Chapter 13. 610 Viewers - A Laugh Escaped

610 viewers. A laugh bubbled up from me. Instead of the swollen nipple, I pressed the pen tip hard against the other side.

"Hauk...!"

My breast yielded, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sinking around it, and chat exploded with messages scrolling too fast to read.

The me that people wanted, and the me that I felt – they were starting to become one. Down below, my soaked pussy throbbed with the impulse to rip off this damn outfit.

"...Heh. Did I... do good?"

I held back, lifting the underside of my breasts toward the camera, jiggling my perky nipples for show.

"Thanks for the sponsorships~..."

It was the finale for the big donor who'd pre-booked the next act. As if reading my mind, the donations poured in again without delay.

I glanced at the screen for a moment.

"...Huh?"

The urge to plunge something into my pussy right then faded even more under their demands. Clutching the pen that had tormented my nipple moments ago, I brought it right up to my lips – close enough for my breath to graze it, but not touching.

Staring straight into the lens, I exhaled slowly.

"Hoo—"

Another breath. This one longer. The pen tip quivered just shy of my lips. Then my plump, pink ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tongue darted out to greet it first.

It tasted faintly salty from rubbing against my hand and clothes. Pursing my lips, I smooched it – wrapping them tight around the thin shaft and sliding back and forth a little. Somehow, my pussy twitched in response.

Is this... a woman's instinct?

More, more...

I slid the pen into my mouth, saliva starting to coat it. With each back-and-forth, my lips glistened wet, my eyes glazing over.

Love me, stay with me.

The smaller amount didn't matter. Whatever they wanted, I craved to obey. Pulling the pen out with a pop, I rubbed it against that pink-shining spot. My white tee grew damp with spit, the nipples sharpening into view.

"Haaang...!"

My grip slackened; the pen clattered to the floor. No patience left to pick it up. I grabbed my handful-spilling breasts, kneading them wildly – until psshh, out of camera sight, I squirted a flood onto the chair and floor.

How I cleaned up my ravaged, masturbated body or ended the stream? No memory after that.

Morning had long passed; I woke around lunchtime. Grabbing my phone, yesterday's me filled the screen.

Clip tab #1: [Newbie Camgirl's Massive Tits & Puffy Nips Reveal 😱😱]

[GreatGalaxy.mp4]

Quality deliberately blurred, captions clumsily hilarious. I hadn't named it 'PuffyNip PenClip' – but male or female communities alike, autocomplete glued it to me now.

Scrolling down, reality faded. Yesterday's peak viewers: 610. Communities overflowed with edits, GIFs, fanart. My face photoshopped on stranger bodies – cradled in a musclebound hunk's arms, slotted naturally among top female streamers.

Staring blankly at 'Eunha' searches, a quiet notification dropped.

One DM.

The sender's nickname froze my hand. The name always topping platform mains. Famous for skyrocketing noobs with one collab. Center of the 'Chosen One' meme.

I straightened up, even kneeling, to open it.

The message stayed polite to the end. No pressure, no sleaze. I stared at the screen, unblinking.

"...Me, with him?"

Later I noticed more DMs – similar pitches. But my eyes drifted back to that name. Kanju, real name Jo Hyo-gwang – so huge, nickname and real name everywhere.

Is this legit? Not a scam?

I typed it into search – then hesitated. Double-checked spelling, hit profile, followers, pinned clips. Scanned latest thumbnails.

"...It's real."

Conviction hit, but relief gave way to nerves. The Kanju I knew. A weird disconnect crept in.

Am I really at that level? Can I even? What if I get flamed for overreaching...

Stepping into that world felt less thrilling, more scary. But this was my new life – not the old me. Eunha, whose every word on cam drew cheers. This was her shot.

Impulse struck; I set the phone down, picked it up. Typed, deleted, rewrote. "Hello" felt too casual – gone. "Thanks for reaching out" too servile – gone. Finally, two lines:

Hello.

Got your message.

Collabs are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠new for me – mind chatting first?

Heart dropped post-send.

...Cocky as hell on reread.

I fidgeted, waiting three minutes for 'read.' Neither short nor long – I fussed with my posture anyway.

But the reply came quicker than feared: Pre-meeting link, date, time. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Below: [Casual clothes fine^^]

Ah.

I shot up from my seat. No time to think. In this cramped studio – bed, desk, peeling wallpaper – a scream ripped out.

"Aaaaaaaah!!!"

Real. Real, real.

Clutching my head, I spun in circles. Bare feet slapping the floor.

"Insane... insane, this is insane..."

Breathless, words tumbling. Kanju collab. Echoing in my skull.

Col. Lab. Me? With him? Same screen?

"No way this is a dream... right? Message still there?"

Snatched the phone, opening/closing chat, scrolling frantically. Read receipt, timestamp, profile – all intact.

Knowing it was real didn't make it feel real until now.

"Whoa..."

A deflated laugh leaked out. Plopped on bed's edge, then bolted up to fling open the window. Motorcycle hummed by outside; laundry flapped in the opposite studio.

That mundane scene glowed rose-tinted now.

I'm streaming with others now.

Not solo ramble-jerk sessions.

Laughing together, chatting, crowds pouring in.

Scenes played in my head: My name called among pros. "Newbie's killing it." "Who's that?"

...Sure, as Eunha, but details.

"Ah... I'm losing it."

Even muttering, my voice bubbled. Rifled closet open/shut, shuffled cup on desk pointlessly. Heart racing nonstop.

Excitement, thrill – and a sliver, paper-thin anxiety.

What if I flop and get buried?

Shook it off hard.

"Nah. He reached out."

Pro saw me, approved, messaged. That alone made this shoebox feel suffocating.

"Ha... for real..."

Flopped back on bed, staring at ceiling. Nothing started yet, but next life chapter felt flung open.

"Tier-1 collab... insane..."

From a two-year shut-in rotting in her room, dreaming aloud – each one made my chest flutter.