Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
My boots slip on some grass at the edge of the walkway, and I nearly wipe out. I catch myself on a lamp post and look up, and that’s when I see her.
Stella Moreland.
In high school, Stella was the queen bee—captain of the volleyball team, queen of the Halloween dance, the kind of blonde you see in TV shows about mean girls but who, in real life, was always weirdly nice. When I moved into my dorm freshman year, she lived on my floor, and we’d stay up late watching trash TV and eating boxed mac and cheese and pretending our lives were going to turn out the way we’d planned.
She’s jogging up to me now, her boots leaving neat little divots in the crusted snow, and for a second I’m so relieved to see a friendly face that my knees go weak.
But Stella doesn’t look like herself. She looks panicked, and this girl never looks panicked. She’s usually put together to the nines, but today, her hair’s in a messy bun, with no makeup. She’s wearing a giant puffer and a scarf wrapped three times around her neck, and her hands are stuffed so deep in her pockets you can’t see her fingers.
“MK!” she calls. Her voice wavers a little, and I know something’s wrong.
I shake my head, already starting to edge away. “I can’t,” I say. “Not now.”
She catches up to me anyway, matching my stride, and puts a hand on my shoulder. I try to shrug her off, but she’s stronger than she looks.
“Mary Kate, give me a sec,” she says. She breaks off, glancing around, then lowers her voice. “I know you’re hurting. Just listen to me.”
I can’t answer. My lower lip is shaking, and if I try to speak I’ll lose it.
Stella steers me off the walkway, behind the quad fountain, to a little alcove between the stone wall and a row of evergreen shrubs. It’s the kind of spot where you’d go to sneak a cigarette or make out with your boyfriend after hours—private, but not hidden enough to be sketchy. She drops her voice again.
“Look, I don’t know how to say this. But you know about the videos right?”
I stare at the ground, the salt-crusted concrete, the little slush islands where the plows haven’t caught up yet. I wish I could fall into one and disappear.
“Do you have them?” I ask, so quiet it’s barely a sound.
Stella hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. Boys I know sent them to me this morning. Some even posted them to their stories before getting shut down. I’m so sorry, MK. I am so, so fucking sorry.”
She pulls out her phone. I don’t want to see it, but I can’t not see it.
She opens the first video. The screen is grainy, like it was filmed on a potato, but the face is unmistakable. It’s me—my hair, my eyes, the little scar on my eyebrow from when I fell off the monkey bars in fourth grade. I’m on my hands and knees, cowboy hat on my head along with a pair of sparkly cowboy boots, and nothing else. My tits are out, my puss’s bare, and I’m sucking a dick while another guy rams into me from behind. My mouth is open in a perfect “O,” eyes rolled back like a porn star’s, and I look so into it that for a second I almost believe it’s real.
But it’s not. I never did that. I never wore a fucking cowboy hat. I’ve never even owned boots like that, with spangles up and down the sides. Most importantly, I’ve never been double-teamed by two men, moaning up a storm as I’m spit-roasted by two cocks!
“Oh my god,” I say in a faint voice. “Holy shit.”
“I know,” says Stella in a grim voice. “But there’s more.”
The second clip is worse. I’m in a man’s lap, facing the camera, and the look on my face is pure bliss—cheeks flushed, lips parted, hair sticking to my sweaty skin. Once again, I’m buck-naked, with my giant tits and pussy on display, my ivory curves gleaming in the low lights. The man holds my hips while I lower my asshole onto his cock, whispering praise in my ear as my anus is stretched wide, my moans low and throaty. I can almost hear it, the fake me begging for it, saying, “Mmm, Daddy, yes! My butt, my butt!”
What the fuck?!?! I’ve had anal sex with Kent, but I’d never say “my butt, my butt” like that. But the video loops, and every time, the look on my face seems to get more and more ecstatic, like my only purpose in life is to be used as a man’s sex doll.
Stella doesn’t say a word. She just watches me, her lips pressed together so hard they go white.