Chapter 32 – Sinking In
by Kleo EriliChloe stared at her phone. The numbers couldn’t be right.
14,159 followers on Instapic.
She rubbed her eyes and looked again. The number remained the same. With trembling fingers, she grabbed her laptop and opened Instapic there. The same picture. Was this a prank by Ben?
She opened a new tab and navigated to Hitter. The little blue check mark next to her name – when had that appeared? – sat enthroned above another impossible number: 11,764 followers.
Last week it was a thousand, maybe.
She pressed F5. The screen flickered briefly, then it was 11,765. One new follower in the three seconds it took to reload.
What the hell?
With a queasy feeling, she scrolled through her Hitter feed. Maven had done a thorough job. Several posts a day while Chloe hadn’t been paying attention. There she was, kneeling on Randy Miles’s worn-out couch, cheeks spread. An animated GIF showed her in the bondage rig at Bound.com, struggling against her restraints while Buck worked her over with the flogger. A still from the Throat Me scene, mascara tears on her cheeks, Trevor Knight’s massive cock buried deep in her throat.
The captions were professionally worded, peppered with hashtags like #ChloeHeart #NewStarlet #Bound #ThroatMe #AdultEntertainment. Links to previews on Naughty Net and full videos on the studio sites. Everything perfectly tailored for maximum reach. She couldn’t even be mad at her.
Maven is just doing her job. And she is obviously doing it damn well.
There were more pictures. A close-up of her face at the moment of orgasm on the Bound.com shoot, her eyes half closed, her mouth open in a silent scream. She couldn’t even remember that shot being taken. Was it a still from the camera? Another picture showed her on Sinful Stepsisters, Steve’s cock deep inside her and her face wasn’t even visible because she was in the dryer.
Under each post were dozens of comments and hundreds, sometimes thousands, of likes and re-hits. She scrolled through the comments.
@ChloeHeartXXX
The last comment made her pause.
Threadit. Oh God.
The sub already had over nine hundred members. The pinned top post was a collection of all her scenes with direct links. Below that: discussion threads with titles like “Chloe’s development from CCC to Bound.com,” “Rumors,” “Best Moments Compilation,” “Is she really only 18?”
She only skimmed the headlines, not daring to go deeper into this rabbit hole. These anonymous strangers were discussing every aspect of her performances, her person, her body. Some had even analyzed screenshots frame by frame.
Too much. This is too much.
She hastily clicked away and returned to Instapic. The little red circle above the message icon showed 47. Forty-seven unread DMs.
She took a deep breath and opened her inbox.
A wave of dick pics. Two dozen penises in various stages of erection, some artistically lit, others photographed in dingy bathroom mirrors, one with googly eyes stuck on it. Delete, delete, delete.
Then came the pick-up lines. “I’m a big fan,” “I’d love to meet you in person,” “I could show you what a real man can do.” Some tried to be more subtle, pretending they wanted to “get to know” her, asking about her hobbies and interests. As if it wasn’t completely obvious what they really wanted.
Delete, delete, delete.
Three messages stood out. They came from names she recognized. Two of them were from Brandon Stayers and Austin Taylor, two guys from her graduating class at Oak Springs.
As if he didn’t know exactly what she was up to. As if her profile picture didn’t show her in lingerie, a photo from her portfolio that Julian had shot. As if her bio didn’t say “Adult Actress”.
Brandon’s message was similarly transparent.
The stupid wink only made it worse. She deleted both without replying.
The third message was from Megan Josephs.
Chloe startled as she saw the name. Megan had been her best friend back in Oak Springs, with whom she had shared some, but not all, of her secrets and with whom she had spent so many nights talking about boys and dreams and the future. The best friend she had left behind without a word when she disappeared to Valley City.
Her heart pounded as she opened the message.
Chloe stared at the blinking cursor in the reply field. What should she write? “Hey Meg, everything’s cool, I’m just investigating my murdered sister undercover and just have to suck some dick to do it, don’t worry about it”?
No. She could never tell anyone about her plan. Not a word to anyone. Two people can keep a secret if only one of them knows about it.
Megan’s words still stirred something in her. If Megan had found her, and Brandon and Austin, then half of Oak Springs knew. And probably her stepfather as well.
Fuck John.
Chloe knew she should close the laptop. That she should sleep, because it had been a long day. But her fingers moved on their own, reopening the Threadit tab.
Just a little more. I want to know… what they know about me.
She scrolled more slowly this time, reading more carefully. One post analyzed her “development” from her first Casting Couch Cuties scene to her Bound.com performance. The author had juxtaposed screenshots of her face in various stages of feigned and genuine pleasure. Someone else had a theory about why she seemed more “authentic” than other performers. Yet another had isolated her moans in an audio file and uploaded it as “ASMR”.
Jesus Christ.
There was a GIF thread with dozens of animated loops from her scenes. There she was, writhing in the bondage rig. Her breasts bouncing on Randy’s couch. Her face contorted with pleasure as Buck brought her to orgasm, over and over again in an endless loop.
She clicked on a link to Naughty Net. Her Bound.com scene had over 345,000 views. Almost three hundred and fifty thousand times, people had watched her hanging there tied up, begging, coming. The comments below… she forced herself not to read them, but snippets still caught her eye. Anatomical descriptions. Fantasies. Timestamps of the “best moments”.
Another link led to a collection of screenshots. High-resolution, razor-sharp. Moments she could barely remember. Close-ups of her pussy in 4k that she herself had never seen in such detail.
All public. All saved. Forever.
The thought slowly crept up, growing bigger and bigger. This would never disappear. Never.
Too late. You knew that, Chloe. It’s too late now.
Her breathing became shallower. The room seemed to shrink.
Chloe closed the laptop with trembling hands. The numbers and images and comments still burned behind her eyelids as she stood up too quickly. The room tilted slightly, and she had to hold on to the bedpost. Her legs felt like jelly.
She staggered into the bathroom. Water. She needed water. Or fresh air. Or a time machine.
The bright light from the bare bulb above the mirror made her flinch. She blinked, waited for her eyes to adjust, and then she saw…
Her face.
The same face she’d had her whole life obviously. The same hazel eyes, the same button nose her mom had always called “cute” when she was a kid. When her mom was still alive. But that wasn’t the only face she saw.
It was also her face. Chloe Heart’s face. The face from the videos. The face that hundreds of thousands had seen, distorted with lust, tear-streaked, covered in cum.
That’s me.
The realization didn’t hit her like a bolt of lightning. It seeped in slowly, like cold water through a leaky ceiling. Drop by drop, until everything was soaked, until she felt the cold in her bones.
This was no longer an abstract consideration or a theoretical problem for later. This was now. This was her life. Every moment she had spent in front of those cameras, whether with Randy’s disgusting cock in her mouth, Buck’s flogger on her skin, or choking on Trevor Knight’s cock, was captured forever. In 4K. From multiple angles.
These videos would never disappear. Even if the internet collapsed tomorrow, some perverted collectors would have saved them on their hard drive and could upload them again the day after tomorrow. Even if she stopped today. Even if she found Samantha’s killer tomorrow. Even if she explained her true motives to the whole world, her heroic undercover mission, her sacrifice for justice… it wouldn’t make any difference.
I am Chloe Heart.
The carefully constructed divide between Chloe Thompson and Chloe Heart had been an illusion. To the outside world, there was no difference. Chloe Thompson was Chloe Heart. She hadn’t merely played a porn actress. She had become one. Truly, genuinely, irrevocably and there was no way to make this undone.
There was no after. Who would ever hire Chloe Heart for anything else? “I see a gap in your resume between 2015 and… oh, wait, isn’t that the woman from Bound.com Episode 454? Unfortunately, we have decided to pursue other candidates whose skills and experience more closely align with the qualifications we are seeking for this role. We wish you all the best in your job search.”
She made it to the toilet just in time before Steve’s chicken nuggets came back up. She gagged and vomited until only bile came out.
She sank against the bathroom wall. Her face was wet with tears she hadn’t even realized she was crying. She was shaking.
Chloe sat on the cold bathroom floor for several minutes. She no longer fought it. She no longer tried to rationalize it away or sugarcoat it. It was just there, this naked truth. As real as the smell of vomit in her nose.
Pull yourself together, Chloe.
Eventually, she pulled herself up on the edge of the sink. She rinsed her mouth and splashed cold water on her face. In the mirror, she looked like a wet raccoon. A wet raccoon that hundreds of thousands of people had seen orgasm.
That doesn’t help you right now. What’s done is done. So what now?
If this was her life now, then she had to make the best of it. She had to think strategically. Develop a plan.
But not tonight.
Her eyelids felt like sandpaper. Her head was pounding. She staggered into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed fully clothed. It was uncomfortable, but she was too exhausted and tired to undress.
Tomorrow, she thought as she curled up in the fetal position. Tomorrow I’ll think. Tomorrow I’ll make a plan.
I have to.
And this is sadly just the first instance she‘ll find out how many holes her “plan“ has……..
Likely!