Cam Girl
Josephine arranges her bed like a coffin, making sure the sheets and pillows form into the shape of a human body. Studio lights on. Web Cam recording. Rank: 55. The chat asks for the act. She gives them stillness. Five seconds. The bracelet wrapped around her leg blinks the word “inside” formed by small, yellow lights. She reaches for the knife on the nightstand. Lifts it to her mouth. The steel touches her tongue.
“Tip if you really want it,” she purrs.
50 tokens. 200. 500. Her rank climbs to 53.
She smiles. Draws the flat of the blade over her breast. The tip catches the nipple. A bead of blood swells, breaks, trails across her chest.
“Do you like this?” she asks.
Yes, beautiful. I’m so hard right now.
She sets the edge of the blade to her throat.
“Ready?”
Speakers of all languages are in her chat-the box blooms with approvals in English, Spanish, Portuguese.
She pulls the blade across her throat. Red sheets over her chest. It soaks the blanket. The knife falls. She holds still.
She did it. This bitch is crazy.Rank: 50.
An alarm goes off. Josephine sits up and wipes the cold dye from her skin. “Oh my god. We did it. Thank you guys so much. You’re all amazing.”
Congratulations flood the chat.
“I need a break guys,” she says. “I’ll be back.”
She climbs from the bed, reaches the mouse, clicks pause. The feed cuts to black.
She goes for the bathroom door and meets her face in the mirror. A red seam shimmers under her jaw.
“You’re almost there,” she whispers to herself.
She peels the plastic pouch from her throat, tears the tube, drops the mess into the bin.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Josephine looks at her cell phone. It’s Camila. She swipes to the right, accepting the call. Camila’s face flashes on the screen. She sits in the driver’s seat of her car.
“Oh my god,” says Camila. “Congratulations, chica. You’re in the top 50.”
“Thank you,” says Josephine. “The guys really like my suicide shows.”
“I could never. What are you doing next?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. I’m torn.”
“Why?”
“The shows get me tips, but the request keep getting more extreme. But I guess it’s worth it if it means that I’ll be in the top 20 on day.”
“Then you’ll be making real money.”
“That’s the plan.”
“I bet in the next month or two you could be the next Olivia Washington.”
“Stop messing with me.”
“No, really. I can see that happening.”
“Olivia Washington is a goddess on Camplanet. Men worship her. There’s no way I’ll be that big.”
“You didn’t hear?”
“Here what?”
“Search her name on Google.”
Josephine taps on the google icon on her phone, types Olivia’s full name, drops her mouth. There’s about a dozen articles reporting Olivia’s death.”
“They ruled it a suicide, but some of us think it was a murder,” says Camila.
“That’s insane.”
“What’s insane was five months ago Jessica Barker, Isla Green, and Maeve Fire all died the same way--Suicide.”
Josephine wipes a stain from her neck as the bracelet on her ankle flashes. She turns the shower handle, and water pours down with a loud thud into the tub.
“I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, chica. Be safe”
She ends the call. Music fills the room from the phone speaker. She undresses and steps in. Was that going to happened to me? No way. I’m in the top 50. Those girls were giants. I’m safe, she thought.
Heat washes the dye from her skin. Red threads cross her chest and run to her navel. A pool gathers at her feet, thick and dark. It circles the drain. Slow as breath. The air tastes of dye. From the vent above the mirror, a thin draft slips across her shoulders, colder than the room. She presses a palm to her throat and scrubs until the skin shows through. The bracelet pulses once, green on flesh. She places a hand on her vagina and rubs her clit with her fingers. Moans. Closes her eyes.
“Nothing is going to get in my way,” she whispers.
Being in the top twenty on Camplanet consumed Josephine. It drove her mad. She needed to have it. Hold it. Taste it. Ever since she got put on house arrest for a DUI, she knew her life needed to change. But how? She never excelled in grade school and lacked any real work skills. All she knew was sex, and sex knew her well. She lost her virginity at sixteen, and since that first experience, she’d been addicted to it. In her eyes, the sex industry was a bridge to a better life. It gave her money-cash she never possessed before. Camplanet became her playground, a space to experiment and discover what worked. At first, nothing did. Then it hit her: violence. Unadulterated violence. The guys on Camplanet were incels, outcasts, perverts, just plain losers. They would beat their meat to anything put in front of them.
Josephine steps from the bathroom in a towel, steam clinging to her skin. Another towel knots her hair.
A red dot blinks on the monitor. New DM.
“Wanna have some fun?”
She looks for who sent the message. PUSSYMAURADER23. Typing at her keyboard, water beads fall from her hair and spot the keyboard. Keys click.
“Pay first,” she types.
Josephine waits for a few moments. Then a new message appears. It’s PUSSYMAURADER23. She opens the message. Her eyes scan each line, word by word. Her face is twisted in disgust.
“Sorry, but I don’t do that. Tone it down a bit.”
She sends the message again. Waits. One minute. Two. Five. Eventually a new message appears in her mailbox. She scans it.
“Okay, that works. It’ll be 350 tokens. Do you want to go private?” She waits for another five minutes until a message appears.
“Of course beautiful,” writes PUSSYMAURADER23.
“Give me ten minutes,” Josephine replies back.
“Okay,” types PUSSYMAURADER23.
She crosses to the bed. A black slip waits on the blanket. She drops the towel, her skin is smooth like a new born baby, and caramel in tone. Ink hugs her arm. “Bad girl” curves over the rise of her back.
She pulls the fabric over her hips, adjusts the straps and returns to the chair.
Link sent. Camera on. Lights on.
Josephine creates a private room for PUSSYMAURADER23 and sends him the link. PUSSYMAURADER23 enters.
“Hey baby,” he writes. “You’re looking beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Josephine writes back. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new?”
“Yes, baby. Actually, I’m new to Camplanet.”
“So, you’re a virgin? I like that.”
“Can you take off your robe?”
“Of course sweety.”
She takes off her robe and starts to massage her firm breast.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to suck your cock?”
“Yes, baby.”
“How badly do you want it?”
PUSSYMAURADER23 tips 500 tokens.
“That badly.” She laughs.
Josephine opens her drawer and pulls out a long, purple dildo. She holds it next to her face, licking the tip of it with her tongue. Inserting it into her mouth, she continues to rub her breast.
“Your such a good girl,” writes PUSSYMAURADER23. “Now jam it down your throat.”
The dildo goes deep into Josephine’s throat.
“Deeper.”
Josephine pushed the dildo deeper.
“I said Deeper!”
It’s hard for her to breath now. Her face is turning red. Both her eyes are rolling back. She yanks out the dildo, coughing and breathing deeply.
“Wow, you’re rough. I like that.”
“Do you know what I would like?”
“What?”
“Cut out your eye and eat it.”
Josephine’s heart nearly leaps out of her chest.
“Excuse me!”
“I said cut out your fucking eye and eat it.”
“That’s a bit dark, don’t you think?”
“Aren’t your shows dark?”
“Yes, but it’s an act. You’re literally asking me to mutilate myself.”
“I don’t see what the problem is.”
“Well, I do.”
PUSSTMAURADER23 goes silent for a moment.
“Let’s go cam2cam.”
“1,500 tokens.”
“1,500?”
“You heard me. 1,500.”
“Anything for you baby.”
PUSSYMAURADER23 sends the tokens. A wide awkward smile appears on Josephine’s face.
“Thank you.”
Josephine presses the share camera feed button, waits for a few moments, then gets a black screen.
“Don’t be shy,” she says.
The return feed stays black. No voice. No motion.
Static crawls; the picture clears.
A house fills the frame-peeling paint, the crooked mailbox, the hairline crack on the third step. Josephine leans in. The upstairs window glows with a ring of pale light. A figure sits at a desk--It’s her.
Josephine cuts off her feed and stands up from her chair. She turns, rushes to the window, shuts the curtains.
She reaches for her phone on the table and dials 9-1-1. The phone rings for a moment, but then the call drops. She redials 9-1-1, but the call drops again. Looking around the room, she spots her landline phone on its charger. She grabs it and dials the same three numbers. Silence.
“Oh my god.” Josephine exclaims.
CRASH.
The sound of shattered glass echoes throughout the house. Josephine puts on her robe and rushes to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She sits on the floor, cellphone still in hand, and dials Camila’s number. Again, the call drops.
“I’m not dying tonight! I am not dying tonight!”
Josephine repeats this mantra over and over, finding some comfort as she struggles to catch her breath.
CREAK.
The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor creeps into Josephine’s ears. She is sweating, her heart pounding, and despite her attempts to repeat a calming mantra, fear overwhelms her.
The footsteps grow closer to the door and then stop. Silence envelops the moment as Josephine continues to pant anxiously.
Suddenly, an axe crashes into the door, creating a hole. It swings repeatedly until an opening appears. A hand reaches through, grasps the doorknob, and swings the door open. Josephine sits frozen like a deer caught in the glow of headlights. PUSSYMAURADER23 stands in the doorway, wearing all black-a hoodie, jeans, and Addidas sneakers. A leather mask conceals his face, and in his hand, he wields an axe.
He lunges toward her, swinging the axe, but she narrowly dodges the blow. Regaining her footing, Josephine rushes out of the bathroom, with PUSSYMAURADER23 close behind, axe in hand. As she races toward the bedroom door, she snatches a snow globe from the dresser, turns, and hurls it at his face. The impact knocks him off balance, causing him to fall to the floor.
Josephine seizes the opportunity, turns, and bolts out of her bedroom. She sprints down the hall but trips over a bag of laundry at the stairs, tumbling down. At the bottom, she lies unable to move as the sound of footsteps creeps into her ears. She tries to lift herself up, but each attempt fails. The footsteps draw closer. Summoning enough strength, she pushes herself up and limps toward the door, resting her hand against the wall for support.
As Josephine reaches the entrance of her parents’ house, the sound of footsteps grows louder. She turns to see PUSSYMAURADER23 standing just a few feet away, axe in hand. He swings the axe, but Josephine dodges just in time, and it strikes the wall instead. PUSSYMAURADER23 struggles to pull the axe free, but it remains stuck. Seizing the moment, Josephine swings open the door and rushes out of the house. She makes it to the street but stumbles, still unsteady from her earlier fall. PUSSYMAURADER23 follows closely behind, now without his axe. When he reaches her, he kneels down, flips Josephine over, and wraps his hands tightly around her throat.
Josephine flails her arms, desperately trying to grab onto him. Her face reddens, as if about to burst. As he chokes her, he removes his mask, and Josephine’s eyes widen in shock.
“Camila!”
Camila stops choking her and smiles-a sinister grin.
“What the fuck?” Josephine gasps, too exhausted to escape now that Camila has released her grip.
“I thought it was time for a visit,” Camila replies casually.
Josephine coughs, the effort causing some spit to land on her robe.
“But we’re friends.”
“I don’t have any friends,” Camila says. “Just rivals.”
“What? The past five years were nothing.”
“Look, I might of liked you. But that stopped tonight.”
“So, I don’t deserve to be like Olivia, Emma, or even Maeve.”
“No, puta. You don’t. I do.”
“This doesn’t have to happen,” Josephine says. “You can still walk away.”
“No way,” says Camila. “There’s no room for the two of us on the top.”
“Listen, I need to make the top twenty-not for clout or bragging rights, but because I need to improve my life style.
“All my life, I’ve been the underdog. I was always the last picked, the last on the list. Managers forgot my name, teachers gave up on me, and boyfriends disappear when things got serious. This ankle monitor? It’s punishment. I messed up. Had too much to drink and thought it was a good idea to drive. I was being reckless. But Camplanet is the only place I feel seen. I go live, and people actually show up. Making the top twenty means I’d be on the front page, earning so much money-enough to never work again after a few years. You can hate me and say I don’t deserve it, but killing me and other girls won’t improve your rank or fill the void. Let me climb. Let me breathe.”
Silence reeked the air for a moment. The only sound echoes from the faint bleeping from Josephine’s ankle monitor. Camila looks down and sees that Josephine’s ankle bracelet indicates “outside.”
“¡Mierda! You were stalling!”
Sirens wail in the distance as two cop cars race down the street. Some of Josephine’s neighbors step outside to see what’s happening. Josephine bursts into laughter. The cop cars screech to a stop, and their doors fly open. About four officers emerge, guns drawn, pointing them at Camila.
“Kiss the ground!” one officer shouts.
Camila drops to her knees, pressing her palms against the ground. Two officers approach and cuff her wrists, escort her to the patrol car, placing her in the back. One cop helps Josephine to her feet. Her robe slips off, revealing her nude body. Another officer wraps her in a blanket.
“Are you alright, miss?” the cop asks.
Josephine nods.
The rest of the night blurs for Josephine. She spends at least an hour answering the officers’ questions. Some neighbors come over to hug her, reassuring her that she can turn to them if anything like this happens again. But Josephine knows this isn’t the end; she understands what she needs to do.
Seated at her computer, Josephine is dressed. The settings page on Camplanet stays open on the screen, and at the bottom, a large red button reads “Delete.” She freezes for a moment, takes a deep breath, and clicks it. A pop up window appears, asking her if she is committed to this decision. She freezes again. This time her finger trembles, shaking her mouse.
“No!” She whispers. “That’s what she wants.”
