Content Obsession

The gym had been a masterpiece.

Isabelle watched Riley strut through the gym like a glowing debutante. From the crop top clinging to his chest to the way his hips swayed with every step, it was everything she'd worked for—weeks of training, tweaking, whispering little truths into his mind. And it had paid off.

But it wasn't just his performance she was proud of. It was what she saw in his eyes.

Those subtle but lingering glances Riley gave to the men around him. The way his gaze dropped and stayed when he passed by a pair of thick, powerful thighs. How his breath hitched when he saw a particularly heavy bulge straining the limits of a pair of compression shorts.

And those men—some looked confused, others intrigued. But many of them looked back. Isabelle noticed it all.

That night, lounging on her bed while Riley hummed in the shower, she smiled to herself.

"Time to turn up the heat," she whispered, already opening her laptop.

She loaded up the program. Riley had been due for a new subliminal for a while. This one would be soft, subtle, just the seed.

"Knowledge is power. The more you learn, the better you become. Watching makeup tutorials is like studying technique, like a craftsman sharpening their tools. You don’t have to wear makeup to appreciate the skill. Real men understand every angle of attraction. This content is fascinating."

The next morning, she uploaded the new audio file to his meditation playlist. As expected, Riley didn’t even notice. He just popped in his earbuds, let out a soft sigh, and let her words soak into him.

A few days passed.

Riley continued his gym routine, becoming even more of a spectacle. He'd start his squats with a dramatic stretch, thrusting his booty shorts-covered ass out just a little more than necessary. His crop tops got higher. His tank tops got tighter.

And his eyes… they had become shameless.

Isabelle caught him staring down a row of runners on treadmills, his gaze bouncing from bulge to bulge like a kid at a candy store. The way he licked his lips made her toes curl with satisfaction.

But it was the post-gym routine that truly gave her joy.

Riley would burst through the door, cheeks flushed, ponytail a mess, chest rising and falling dramatically. He’d declare, "I need to meditate," and immediately disappear into the bathroom.

The water would run a few minutes later, but only after a good fifteen minutes of silence.

She knew exactly what was going on in there.

Then, one evening, she heard the water shut off early. A few minutes later, she walked into the living room and paused.

There he was. Hair still damp, tank top clinging to his frame, legs curled beneath him on the couch. Phone in hand. Eyes wide.

"Hey," she said casually, stepping closer. "What're you watching?"

Riley glanced up with a dazed smile. "It's fascinating. I never knew so much went into this. It's like watching Bob Ross, only better."

She tilted her head. "What is it?"

He turned the screen toward her. A blonde woman with a dazzling smile was talking about undertones and blending brushes.

"Makeup tutorials," Riley said dreamily. "This one's showing how to do contouring based on face shape. Did you know there are six main face shapes?"

Isabelle stifled a giggle. "No, I didn’t. Enlighten me."

Over the next few days, Riley became obsessed. She caught him binging content while stretching, brushing his hair, even while cooking. He started quoting his favorite artists. "Nikkie says a good base is everything," he'd mutter while exfoliating. Or, "Tati doesn’t like this product, so I think I’ll skip it."

Isabelle played it cool, never pushing, only encouraging. It was important he thought this interest was his own discovery.

But by the end of the week, she knew it was time.

He wasn’t just watching anymore.

He was ready to learn.

And Isabelle had just the thing for him.