My First Stream Was the Absolute Worst
Whoosh.
The sound of warm water pouring down like a fountain from the showerhead.
The sound of my damn water bill skyrocketing like Bitcoin back in its heyday.
I had passed out in the middle of the night. When I finally came to, thinking, Ah, it's morning, the sound that greeted me was the shower, melting away the chill and healing my body.
"...Whew."
For some reason, I was washing myself as if drawn by some unseen force, even though taking a shower was something I used to hate doing first thing after waking up.
Had someone messed up the coding in my brain?
Or was it simply that yesterday's pleasant bath had engraved itself in my mind, naturally drawing me back?
Ignorant and foolish as I was, I had no way of knowing.
I just let out a deep sigh and let the warm streams of water wash over me.
What came to mind was yesterday. The memory of crying in front of all those people who had gathered to watch the moon—a memory so embarrassing I felt like my entire body might explode from sheer mortification right now.
"Aaaaargh!"
Overcome by shame, I wasted the beautiful tone of my vocal cords on a scream.
What the hell did I do yesterday? Fuck...
Do people really lose their minds in the middle of the night? It's so embarrassing. This is a tight-knit, cramped neighborhood where everyone knows who their neighbors are.
Ugh...
The more I think about it, the crazier I feel. Why did I do that? Do I have no shame? No sense of decency?
I knew exactly what would happen if I cried there. With a face that already draws attention, I went and cried, turning myself into an attention whore who stole the spotlight from a moon that only appears once every two hundred years... Why did I do that? Why on earth did I cry like that?
Ah, it's so embarrassing... I want to hide, not just in a mouse hole, but in a crevice small enough for microbes. How am I supposed to go outside now?
...Sigh.
First... let's calm down. Calm down and gather my thoughts...
I close my eyes gently, letting the warm water wash over my body once more.
Then, to soothe my startled heart, I take a deep breath, and with my hands... I fondle my massive "heart."
...They're still massive jugs. No, tits... breasts.
Every time I squeeze them, they feel so soft and squishy like slime. Even though they're mine, they look so tempting that I want to take a big bite out of them. My breasts are so impressive that even I can't help but admire them.
I honestly wonder if they'd taste sweet if I bit into them. Maybe "milk and honey" are actually the same thing. After all, the land of milk and honey is flowing right in front of my eyes.
...Maybe standing under the warm water for too long has made my brain go haywire, but I keep having these weird thoughts as I stare at and play with my breasts. This is surprisingly fun and addictive.
And... I'm the only one in the entire world who gets to see the most important parts of these fun, honey-dripping breasts.
Hehehe... Hehehehe...
...I mean, I know I'm being creepy, but thinking about it like that makes me feel even better.
The raw form of these horny, luscious, beautiful breasts—looking like Venus reincarnated—can only be seen and touched by me.
For the incredibly obvious reason that it's my body.
Isn't that fucking awesome? Right now, I'm more turned on than anyone.
The sense of superiority that only I can do whatever I want with this body.
And... the subtle, suffocating excitement that makes my entire body twitch, heated up from fondling my breasts so much...
Driven by that excitement, I finally bring my finger to the place I've never allowed anyone else to touch...
...
...
..
I ask myself seriously: How am I going to live now?
Having cleared away all distracting thoughts, lust, and excitement, my cooled-down brain is able to think much better. It guides my thoughts on what I should do with myself from now on.
But contrary to my mind, my body moves in the exact opposite direction.
Even though my head is cooler than anyone's.
As soon as I wash and dry off, my body heads straight for the bed. It's not like I have some homing instinct. After washing up, drying my hair, and throwing on some loose clothes, the place I head to is the soft mattress of my bed.
Fortunately, the blankets and bed I cleaned yesterday are all dry, so today it smells like fresh yuzu instead of a disgusting pigsty. ...Though it might just be the scent of my own body.
I lie on the bed, mindlessly playing with my outdated phone, doing absolutely nothing.
Even if it's outdated, a smartphone is still a smartphone...
Whenever I lie in bed, I habitually fall into the swamp of the red devil, a place you can't escape once you enter.
Needless to say, it's the video platform called YouTube.
My brain understands that I don't have time for this.
But I can't stop my hand from scrolling through videos.
Accepting my ruined algorithm without a second thought, I watch and swipe, watch and swipe... and before I know it, a video of a streamer I've never seen before pops up as the next recommended video.
It was a stream of someone in a lower tier of the game I play.
Honestly, watching it, I never once thought she was good. The only difference between her and everyone else was the simple fact that she was a female streamer.
It was a bland video, just edited decently.
The view count easily hit around 300,000—a textbook example of a typical female streamer.
Honestly, watching this video of a moderately pretty girl acting cute and playing games without any real excitement or fun, all I felt was:
"I'm so jealous. So jealous."
Just because she's a girl talking and playing a game that mostly guys play, she makes money like this. I was so envious... Sigh, how nice would it be if I could make money like that?
Wait...
Come to think of it, I'm a girl now, I'm good at games... plus, I have big breasts and I'm prettier than anyone.
Should I try streaming too?
I turned on my computer and spent about two hours looking up information on how to stream.
Something about OBS, stream keys, and so on...
I struggled quite a bit trying to figure out these modern technologies, which are tough for an old-timer. Though I'm still in the flower of my youth.
Even though I live a ruined life spending half my waking hours on the computer, I was disappointed in myself once again for being so clueless about streaming and computer setups. Still, I searched the internet and finally managed to get everything ready to start.
Now, all I had to do was write a stream title, select a few minor stream categories, and click the button that said "Go Live."
I didn't struggle with the stream title. They said you need a clickbait title, and when I thought about it, no bait was better than my own username.
So, for my first stream, the title was my username...
I wrote down my proud yet embarrassing username: VirginDetector.
On top of that, I added "I'm a girl," which was obvious bait.
"...Whew."
Nervous, I clicked the "Go Live" button.
The viewer count was still at 0.
Even though no one was watching, the mere fact that I had started streaming made me tense up.
...First, I logged into the game I always played.
Since it was a game that beautifully condensed eight years of my life, logging in didn't even take five seconds.
As soon as the client opened, the number 1167 was visible under my profile.
...This was my level, a number showing just how much of my life I had sacrificed to this game over eight years. At the same time, it was proof that I was indeed VirginDetector.
With the client open to prove I was VirginDetector, I looked at the stream chat, which was starting to move faster than expected.
People gathered faster than I thought.
I had worried what I'd do if the viewer count stayed at zero, but I guess I was a pretty famous roleplayer among the ghosts haunting this game.
In Legend of Fantasy, a game so notorious for its hatred of female characters that picking one was considered griefing, I was the one who climbed to the highest tier using nothing but female characters.
Since the game was a massive hit globally, and especially in Korea, it was only natural for people to take an interest in someone who pulled off such antics.
As if to prove it, the viewer count slowly ticked upward.
10, 20, 50, 80... People who knew who I was were slowly gathering. After all, I was a named user in Legend of Fantasy.
...Still, I hadn't expected this many.
I thought twenty would be my absolute limit.
The chat was filled with messages like "Aren't you gonna talk?" or asking if I was the real Detector.
In response to those chats, I opened Notepad, wrote "No mic," displayed it on the screen, and decided to just play the game I was confident and familiar with.
With trembling hands, I clicked the queue button.
Before long, a match was found in less than ten seconds.
...Fortunately, it didn't look like anyone's role was autofilled.
The usernames were the same people I always saw, in the lanes they always played.
Top, Jungle, Mid, Ranged Dealer, Support.
Out of those five positions, the one I was most confident in and found the most fun was **Ranged Dealer**, commonly abbreviated as **Won-dil**.
High difficulty, high return. However, it was a role of extreme difficulty where you couldn't reach the ceiling of the characters or the position itself unless you ground your entire life away.
It was so bad that in lower tiers, people said the Ranged Dealer was just a passenger role with zero presence. With their low base stats early on, in today's fast-paced meta, Ranged Dealers were practically untouchables, treated worse than supports.
But if it only had downsides, I wouldn't have played this role for eight years.
The charm of this position lies in its "carry potential"—the ability to dominate the game all by yourself.
When everyone is losing and you're forced to drag the game to the late stage, only then do you realize why the Ranged Dealer position exists.
As time passes in a losing game and the gap with the enemy slowly begins to close, if you have the skill, you can sweep the entire enemy team by yourself as time goes on.
A role with a difficulty that makes you curse, but a performance that is second to none when fully mastered. The word "hero" fits it perfectly.
...It's a damn romantic position.
And luckily, in the very first game of my stream, I pulled off the kind of romantic play that every Ranged Dealer dreams of, wrapping up a delicious game.
In a game that had been leaning heavily against us, I capitalized on the enemy's overextension and rode the momentum. Using that as a springboard, I wiped them out single-handedly, secured our lead, demolished all the enemy's towers, and took the victory.
At this rate, everyone watching my stream was bound to praise me.
Even I was impressed, thinking, Wow, I'm playing out of my mind today.
I imagined everyone marveling at my near-perfect play. The chat flooded with "Wow" and "Insane"... and a massive influx of new viewers because of me...
With those expectations, I looked at the rapidly moving chat.
...This isn't right.
Why is no one interested in my play?
I played the best game of my life. Is it normal that not a single person is talking about the game?
The chat, which I had expected to be overflowing with praise and admiration, had instead turned into a battleground.
They started their own league of arguments, and soon, triggered by the "I'm a girl" in the title, they began fighting over whether I was a girl or if there was no way someone like me could be a girl. They treated my stream like their own community forum, and soon, trolls began flooding the endless sea of chat.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
This wasn't what I had in mind when I started the stream.
The word "girl," which I had used as bait, had completely backfired.
Even if it wasn't a stream where we laughed together and shared warm feelings, just a streamer and viewers having fun together would have been my ideal first stream.
My supposedly unbreakable resolve to stream for at least three hours...
Unable to withstand the persecution and hardships of my chat, which had become a playground for countless trolls, finally shattered. I clicked the "End Stream" button.
I'm not doing this...
I can't stream without a mic...