The app didn't give me time to catch my breath.
Another match loaded before the aftershocks even faded.
Screen split.
This one looked younger—early twenties, maybe. Bright pink hair cropped short on one side, long on the other. Heavy eyeliner. A silver ring through her bottom lip. She was wearing a cropped tank top that barely contained anything and tiny sleep shorts riding high on her thighs. Bedroom lighting, fairy lights strung behind her headboard. Looked like she'd been scrolling mindlessly until the ping.
Her eyes flicked up. Locked on the camera.
Then dropped.
Lower.
She froze for half a second.
"Holy… fuck."
Her voice came out breathy, almost reverent.
I shifted the phone angle just enough. No point hiding it now.
She leaned closer to her screen, eyes widening. Pupils blown.
"That thing is… massive."
I didn't say anything. Didn't need to. The timer was already ticking: 30 seconds.
She licked her lips—slow, deliberate.
"I've seen big. But that…" She laughed, shaky. "That thing will destroy my pussy."
The words hit like a slap of heat straight to my gut.
She wasn't exaggerating for the camera. Her expression was pure, wide-eyed awe mixed with something hungrier.
She tilted her head, studying it like a puzzle she wanted to solve with her mouth.
"Goddamn. Look at the veins. And the head—fuck, it's thick."
Her hand drifted down, slipped under the waistband of her shorts again. I could see the outline of her fingers moving in slow circles.
"You ever… actually put that in someone?" she asked, voice dropping lower.
"Been a while," I admitted.
She bit her pierced lip.
"Lucky bitches."
Timer: 18 seconds.
She pulled her shorts down just enough. No panties. Smooth, glistening already.
"Wish I had more than thirty seconds," she muttered. "I'd let you ruin me. Stretch me till I can't walk. Till I'm crying and begging for more."
My hand moved on instinct—slow strokes, matching the rhythm she was setting.
Her breathing hitched.
"Fuck—show me how you'd fuck me with it."
I angled the camera lower, let her see the full length sliding through my fist.
She whimpered.
"Jesus. I can already feel it splitting me open. Hitting places nothing else reaches. My poor little pussy wouldn't stand a chance."
Her fingers sped up. Slick sounds audible even over the shitty connection.
Timer: 10 seconds.
"Don't stop," she gasped. "I wanna cum thinking about that monster wrecking me."
I sped up too. The pressure built fast—too fast.
Her head tipped back. Throat exposed. Pink hair sticking to her sweaty neck.
"Gonna—fuck—gonna imagine you bottoming out, bruising my cervix, filling me so deep I taste you in my throat—"
The screen flashed.
Connection ending in 3… 2… 1…
Black.
But the system didn't care about the cutoff.
It hit like a freight train.
[High-Yield Physical Pleasure Detected — Mutual Climax]
[Happiness Level: 9.4 → 12.7/100]
Objective Complete flashed across the screen in bold green.
[Starter Objective Completed]
[Happiness Level has reached 10/100]
[Reward: $100 Equivalent – Direct Transfer Initiated]
My phone buzzed almost immediately.
Bank notification.
+$100.00
I stared at the number.
One hundred dollars.
Real.
In my account.
I let out a long, shaky breath and collapsed flat on my back. Chest heaving. Sweat cooling on my skin.
The screen hovered above me, calm now.
[New Objective Available]
[Raise Happiness Level to 25]
[Reward: $500 Equivalent + Random Item Drop]
Twenty-five.
Five times higher than before.
And a "random item." Whatever the hell that meant. A skill would've been useful. This sounded like gambling.
I rolled onto my side, still half-hard, still buzzing from the high.
The rain had stopped outside. Streetlights flickered through the blinds in soft orange stripes across the ceiling.
I felt… lighter.
Not fixed. Not happy in the big, existential way.
But lighter.
Like I could breathe without the weight of every overdue bill pressing on my ribs.
I picked up my phone again.
The app was still open.
"Ready for next match?"
I stared at the button.
Then closed the app completely.
No.
The thirty-second timer was torture.
Every time the connection cut, it felt like being yanked out of a dream right before the good part. The buildup was intense, the release sharp, but the frustration afterward killed half the high. And worse—each match took setup time. Loading, waiting for a decent connection, hoping the other person didn't immediately disconnect or go silent. It added up. Minutes wasted for seconds of payoff.
I couldn't keep grinding like that. Not if I wanted optimal points. Not if I wanted real, sustained satisfaction instead of these quick, hollow hits.
There had to be a better way.
I opened my browser instead.
Scrolled through my history until I found the post I'd seen yesterday on some sketchy forum board. The title had caught my eye because it was so blunt:
"Easy money lending – quick cash, no questions, call this number."
Below it: a local number with a Mumbai area code. A few replies calling it a scam, a couple saying it worked if you were desperate. One guy claimed he got five grand same day, paid back double in a month. Risky. Stupid, probably.
But I had a hundred bucks now. Breathing room. And the system didn't care where the happiness came from—only that it came.
Financial relief was a solid source. Getting real cash, even borrowed, would feel better than these fleeting video flashes. Paying off a bill. Buying actual groceries. Maybe even fixing the leak in the bathroom sink that dripped all night.
I copied the number.
Dialed before I could talk myself out of it.
It rang twice.
A calm male voice answered. Professional. Almost bored.
"QuickLend Services. How can I help?"
I swallowed.
"I saw your post. About easy money lending."
A short pause.
"Name?"
"Noah Everett."
"Amount needed?"
I hesitated.
"Five thousand?" It came out like a question.
Another pause.
"Possible. Terms are simple. We transfer today. Repayment in thirty days, interest at forty percent flat. No collateral required for first-time borrowers under ten thousand. You good with that?"
Forty percent. Brutal.
But five grand today… that would skyrocket the happiness meter. Rent caught up. Bills gone. Food for weeks. Maybe even a new mattress instead of this lumpy piece of shit.
And if the system rewarded financial relief this much for a hundred bucks, five thousand would be massive.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm good."
"Send ID proof and bank details via VatsApp to this number. We verify in ten minutes. Funds hit your account within the hour after."
He ended the call.
I stared at the phone.
My heart was pounding—not from fear exactly. From anticipation.
The screen shimmered.
[Anticipation Detected — High Potential Financial Relief]
[Happiness Level: 12.7 → 13.4/100]
I exhaled.
Thirteen-point-four.
Still climbing.
Even just the promise of money was enough.
I opened WhatsApp.
Typed out the details.
Hit send.
Then I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
The number on the screen kept ticking upward.
Slowly.
Steadily.
And for the first time in years, I didn't feel like I was just surviving.
I felt like I was finally playing the game.
And winning.