Ryan's nightly ritual had become a lifeline, a brief escape from the grinding reality of his job and the endless family obligations. But tonight, as he settled into his bed with the laptop glowing in the dim room, something interrupted the routine before it could even begin.
The doorbell buzzed sharply..once, then twice echoing through the small apartment like an unwelcome intruder. Ryan froze, hand hovering over his boxers. Who could that be? Deliveries didn't come this late, and he hadn't ordered anything.
Heart pounding with a mix of annoyance and curiosity, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, padding barefoot to the door.
Peering through the peephole revealed an empty hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering faintly. No one. He cracked the door open cautiously, the chain still latched, and glanced down.
There, on the worn doormat, sat a plain brown package no bigger than a shoebox, taped securely with no shipping label in sight. Just his name scrawled in black marker across the top:
"Ryan Ellis."
No sender, no return address. A prank? Or worse, a mistake?
Sliiinng!
He unlatched the chain and scooped it up, shaking it gently as he relocked the door. Something solid shifted inside, thudding softly against the sides.
Back in the bedroom, he set the box on his bed, staring at it warily. The city's night sounds filtered through the window...horns blaring, distant sirens..but inside, the air felt thick with anticipation. He grabbed a pocket knife from his drawer and sliced through the tape, peeling back the flaps.
Inside, nestled in bubble wrap, was a single hard disk drive sleek, black, and unlabeled. No note, no instructions. "What the hell?" he muttered, turning it over in his hands. It looked like an external drive, the kind for backing up files. Curiosity overrode caution; he plugged it into his laptop's USB port, the device whirring to life as it mounted.
A single video file appeared in the file explorer: "Welcome.mp4." No other content. Ryan hesitated, thumb hovering over the trackpad. Could be a virus, or spam. But the mystery tugged at him, the same pull that drew him to his porn tabs every night.
He double-clicked, and the media player opened, filling the screen with crisp, professional production values. Upbeat music played..sultry synth beats...as text faded in: "Welcome to Femboy Streams: Where Your Desires Pay Off."
Ryan's eyes widened breath quickening. The video transitioned to a montage: soft-featured young men in lingerie, posing seductively for cameras, moaning as they played with toys. A voiceover, smooth and enticing, narrated:
Tired of the daily grind? Turn your feminine charm into cash. Stream live for adoring fans who crave subs like you. Earn thousands from home...be worshipped, be owned." Clips flashed: a femboy on his knees, licking a massive dildo; another riding a toy while chatting with viewers. Tips dinged on screen, dollars accumulating in real-time.
Then, the ad shifted to something more explicit. A petite sub, with features eerily similar to Ryan's..soft face, slim build knelt before a muscular black man.
The dom towered over him, cock exposed: nine inches of thick, veiny perfection, throbbing with promise. "Beg for it, pussy," the dom commanded, voice deep and dominant. The sub whimpered obviously enjoying it, "Please, sir, let me worship your monster dick."
He leaned in, tongue extended, licking reverently from base to tip. Ryan's breath caught, his own tiny cock hardening instantly in his sweats. The sub took the head in his mouth
Gulp! hmn gulp gulp! The moan ringing from the speaker,
Gagging as the dom thrusts deeper, hand gripping the sub's hair like a goat's horn. "Good boy..take it all in."
The video cut to the sub bent over, ass up, as the dom pushed in inch by inch. Moans filled the speakers..high-pitched, needy, ecstatic. "This could be you," the voiceover purred.
"Our top streamers make $5k a month. Starter kits are available now: webcam, lights, toys including our signature nine-inch black dildo. Sign up today and embrace your submission."
Testimonials scrolled:
"I was broke and ashamed now fans own me, and I love it." Links appeared at the end: a site URL, equipment store.
Ryan paused the video, rewinding to the worship scene. His hand slipped into his pants, stroking slowly as he watched again. The sub's adoration, the dom's control..it mirrored his fantasies perfectly. Black monster dick, owning a feminine pussy like him. Shame burned, but arousal won.
He imagined himself in that role, camera rolling, tips pouring in. Money for Mom, for Jayden. No more scraping by.
Sprut! Sprut
He finished quickly, cum spilling weakly, but the high lingered.
Wiping up, he clicked the link. The site loaded: FemboyStreams.com, sleek and discreet. Profiles of performers, earnings dashboards. Anonymous options, face masks encouraged for starters.
He created an account impulsively: username "RyeSub," bio blank for now. The equipment kit was $150..webcam, ring light, tripod, toy assortment.
He added the nine-inch dildo extra, black and realistic. Checkout: credit card details, shipping discreet. "Just to try," he told himself, a way to justify his actions. Hitting confirm. Delivery in two days.
The hard disk is ejected with a beep, task complete. Who sent it? A targeted ad? Or fate? Ryan didn't care; the seed was planted. Sleep came easier that night, dreams vivid:
Him streaming, worshipping on camera, black doms commanding from afar. Morning brought work...cubicle drudgery, Carter's meeting where Ryan stole glances at his boss's broad frame, imagining the package beneath.
Days blurred until the kit arrived, but the mystery package had ignited something irreversible. The spiral deepened, curiosity turning to action.