Page 2 of My Irresistible Enemy

And sure, some people like Purplecumluvr liked to overshare. And at least once a week, I’d get a message from someone like ASDFIDGAF, someone who’d only just signed up for the private messaging tier and immediately used it to ask for a cum or sweat-soaked article of clothing. But no one had gotten mad at me yet for saying no, and I figured they were pretty harmless.

That last message, though, from HungTopXL…

It was hard to say what bothered me about it. Coming from anyone else, I would have dismissed it as dirty talk and not given it a second thought. Hell, coming from the right person, I would have even found it hot.

Maybe it was just thatallthe messages he sent were sort of aggressive. He never interacted with me in any other way. He never just told me I was cute, or asked how I was doing, or even asked me to send him underwear, which still would have been anofrom me, but at least would have been a kind of relief. Hell, he’d never even voted in a poll where I asked my subscribers what they wanted to see next.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was trying to intimidate me rather than flirt. That he wanted me scared. But it was all just a feeling. Nothing in the content of his messages crossed a line, technically speaking. Nothing I could report him for.

And yeah, I could block him at any time. Refund his money. But then I started to think I was overreacting. Wasn’t I supposed to have a thick skin? Hadn’t I encouraged subscribers to message me so they felt like they were getting their money’s worth? What the hell was I freaking out about, really?

Besides, it felt a little unfair to block him without explaining to him first what was bothering me, and giving him a chance to fix it. Only—ugh. The thought of that conversation made me recoil. So awkward.

Maybe it was better to just ignore him. Up until now, I’d always replied to his messages politely, but what was it they said about training dogs? Reward good behavior, don’t give any reaction to the bad? Maybe if I just stopped replying, he’d get the message.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the unease that had sunk in upon reading his message, and began replying to the other subscribers. I’d only gotten through two when a text came in from my brother, Gabe.

GABE: Shit, Aiden. I’m really sorry, my flight got delayed, and I’m stuck in Charlotte and can’t pick you up. Can you take a bus to the ferry terminal?

My heart sank.

It wasn’t that taking the bus was that terrible. As a car-less LA resident, I was used to alternate forms of transportation. But I didn’t really want to get into yet another crowded metal tube right now, crammed in next to people eating smelly egg salad sandwiches and yelling at each other across the aisle.

Besides, I’d been looking forward to seeing my brother, and now, I’d have to wait.

Until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t even realized thatA Piece of Cakewas being filmed in the same town as the one that he lived in. The show picked a different picturesque locale to shoot in each season, and this year, Summersea Island was the big winner. The overhaul the show had gotten between last year and this one might have had something to do with that, though.

A Piece of Cakebilled itself as a family program. Each week, viewers voted on their favorite contestants. The ones with the most votes moved on to the next round, while the judges decided which of the contestants from the bottom three was going home.

In all of the seasons of the show, there had never been a gay or lesbian baker—at least not one who was out publicly. But last year, there’d been a huge public relations scandal when the judges overruled the voting results and sent home one of the viewers’ favorite bakers—the same week that it was revealed that he was gay and had a long-time boyfriend.

Between that season and this one, the show was revamped. Both judges were fired, and two new ones were brought on, one of whom was a gay man. They’d also made a point of casting adiversegroup of contestants, which, let’s be real, was the only reason I’d been cast. It sure as hell wasn’t for my baking skills. The show itself would be filmed on the grounds of a local bed and breakfast owned by a gay couple.

It was like they thought if they threw enough gay people at viewers, they could erase the stench of homophobia that clung to them from last year. Which was kind of gross, except who was I to judge when I’d jumped at the chance to be included? The fact that I’d get to see my brother for as long as I lasted on the show was just an extra perk.

Though I’d have to wait a little longer for that last part, apparently.

With a sigh, I grabbed my backpack from under my seat and made my way off the plane. I wondered how many of my subscribers would revolt if I posted a video with the titleFucked by My Brother, but then it was just me bitching about my travel plans.

Probably best not to find out. I did owe them something, though. With the rush of packing for the past few days, I’d only had time to post a few hastily-snapped nudes, and I knew they were getting impatient. Well, I’d packed some of my favorite toys in my luggage. Maybe I’d have time for a quick video once I got to Summersea.

Of course, I had togetthere first, which meant I needed my luggage to arrive. I waited and waited as suitcases tumbled down the chute at baggage claim and passed me on the carousel, but none of them were mine. Passenger after passenger grabbed their bags and left, all while mine refused to make an appearance. Eventually, the carousel stopped moving and my flight information disappeared from the monitor above it.

Fucked by the Airport Baggage Claim. I sighed and headed for the information desk. Thirty minutes later, I finally got to the front of the line, only to be told that my suitcases had been sent to Kansas City. The lady there assured me they’d send them down to Summersea as soon as they arrived, but couldn’t tell me how long that would be.

To top it all off, I made it out to the curbside pickup area just in time to see the bus for Brunswick, Georgia pull away from the curb. The sun beat down on my face, mocking me. The air was a mix of exhaust and way too much humidity for this hour of the day. I felt filthy, and I’d only been outside for two minutes.

By the time I actually got on a bus headed for Brunswick, I was hot, sweaty, tired, and in a full-blown bad mood. When I checked my CamFans account again, I’d gotten three more messages—two asking when I was going to post my next video, and the third from HungTopXL again.

@HungTopXL: Playing hard to get for your Daddy, huh? Don’t worry, slut. I know how to be persistent. And when I finally get you, I’ll make you pay for teasing me like this. I’ll train you to understand that you’re just a set of holes, and your only purpose is to please real men.

Jesus fucking Christ. I swiped away from the message with a grimace. It was way too early for that kind of talk.

I knew I should consider myself lucky. I’d only had my account for a few months, but I’d already earned half of what I made in a year at the coffee shop. If people wanted to pay to see me stick ever-larger dildos up my ass… Well, it wasn’t like I wasn’t masturbating anyway. Might as well make some money from it, right?

I hadn’t even had sex with anyone on camera yet, but there were still people willing to pay to watch me moan and tremble as I fucked myself with a sparkly purple tentacle dildo. Not that the tentacle dildo videos were the most popular—or lucrative.

No, those were something different.

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