Chapter 2: Under the Spell of a Profile

The next day...

I wake up with the strange feeling that the night flew by in an instant. The alarm is buzzing and ringing insistently, pulling me out of my dreams. I turn it off and spend a few seconds staring at the ceiling.

Did I really do that last night? I think back to signing up for ForFansOnly, and to Emmy’s profile, which intrigued me just enough to take the plunge. My mind wanders, and I find myself wondering if she’s already sent me a message. But I need to focus—I’ve got a long day ahead.

In the shower, I shake my head, trying to clear these thoughts. It’s ridiculous to be so obsessed this early in the morning. Yet, I can’t help but wonder what I’ll find in my notifications.

Mom, from the kitchen: “Brice, hurry up, you’re going to be late!” Me: “I’m coming!”

I quickly dry off and get dressed before heading downstairs. The kitchen is already full of life. My dad, like every morning, is engrossed in his newspaper. My mom is making toast, while my sister Emma is glued to her phone, as usual.

Mom: “Brice, you seem a bit out of it today. Are you okay? Are you getting enough sleep?”

Me: “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

Emma: “You, tired? That’s new. You’re not the type to stay up late. What happened last night?”

Me: “Nothing important. Just worked on some stuff for school.”

She looks at me intently, like she’s trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth. I try to keep a neutral face, though I can feel my cheeks heat up a little. It’s crazy how sharp she can be sometimes.

My dad, still buried in his newspaper, chimes in calmly.

Dad: “Don’t overwork yourself, Brice. Consistency is key. It’s better to work a little every day than cramming late at night.” I nod in silence, but my mind is elsewhere. In reality, I didn’t work much last night. After my session on ForFansOnly, I spent a good part of the night thinking about what I had just done, what I had subscribed to. I finish my breakfast quietly before heading out to university.

The morning flies by, everything moving in fast-forward around me. Between back-to-back classes and conversations with friends, I stay a bit distant, feeling disconnected. During a break, I slip away to a quiet corner of campus, away from the crowd, and pull out my phone. My pulse quickens slightly when I see a notification. A message from Emmy.

Emmy (message): “Hey! Thanks for subscribing 😊. Hope you’re doing well 🙂 How’s your day going? 🌸” I was expecting something more formal, more distant, but this message is surprisingly simple and friendly. I hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out how to reply without sounding awkward.

Me (message): “Hey! I’m good, thanks. Just a typical day at university. How about you?” I send my reply and wait for a few seconds. I didn’t expect an immediate response, but my phone vibrates almost instantly.

Emmy (message): “Recovering from a short night, but I’m good! How’s your day going? Any exciting classes or just the usual?” I can’t help but smile. The conversation feels so natural that I almost forget this is a paid platform, or even what kind of content it’s supposed to offer. I put my phone away, determined to focus on the class that’s about to start, but my mind is elsewhere.

During lunch, I sit in a quiet spot on campus with a sandwich. The conversation with Emmy keeps playing in my head. Curious, I decide to explore the app a little more. I scroll through profiles, personalized messages, and suggestive photos. ForFansOnly is a world of its own, where intimacy is a currency. Yet, no other profile intrigues me as much as Emmy’s. Is it because she seems so approachable? Or maybe because she’s nearby?

I linger on the app’s features—the messaging, the premium subscriptions. Some creators show a clear professional detachment, with formatted messages and paid services for every interaction. But with Emmy, it feels different. I’m starting to understand why so many people get hooked on apps like this. It’s a mix of curiosity, temptation, and maybe a bit of loneliness.

I find myself diving deeper into Emmy’s page. Her profile is far more detailed than I had imagined. Besides the private messages she’s sent me, there’s a public section accessible to all her subscribers, where she regularly shares content. Almost daily, she posts pictures of herself in various outfits—sometimes casual, sometimes more daring—but always with that touch of sweetness and authenticity that seems to define her style.

In her public posts, she’s warm and engaging, creating a sort of community around her profile. There are regular comments from loyal subscribers who interact with her almost as if they know her personally. Then there are the private posts, reserved for premium subscribers, where she shows a more seductive side, playing with the expectations of those who pay for a more “exclusive” connection with her.

I get lost for a while reading the captions, analyzing the comments. There’s this constant game between distance and closeness. She gives just enough for her subscribers to feel special, while still maintaining that subtle barrier that reminds them it’s ultimately a paid service. Yet, I feel a certain frustration. I start to wonder how genuine it all is. Is she playing a role, or is she really that close to the people who follow her?

Back in class, I do my best to focus, but it’s hard. Every time I pull out my phone, I check for a new message. The professor is showing a video, but I’m only half paying attention. My friends glance at me curiously, probably wondering why I’m so distracted today.

Paul (a friend): “You sure you’re okay, Brice? You seem like you’re in another world.”

Me: “Yeah, don’t worry. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

He shrugs and goes back to his screen. I try to focus on what’s happening around me, but every vibration from my phone pulls my attention back. At one point, I force myself to turn it off to stop the temptation.

During the last hour of class, my thoughts drift back to Emmy. Who is she really? What’s her life like outside the screen? Is she this friendly with all her subscribers, or am I just getting carried away for no reason?!

The day finally comes to an end, and I head home with a strange feeling, a mix of exhaustion and excitement. As soon as I walk through the door, I smell dinner cooking. I drop my bag in the entryway and head to the kitchen where my parents are quietly chatting.

Dad: “Did you have a good day?”