Social Viewer の小説・ストーリー

Naturally, those people would kill time by watching a potential drama unfold before their eyes. Just as she expected, the viewer count continued to rise rapidly as more people flooded to watch the live feed. Even though there were a few media companies live-streaming the event at the same time, each of the live feeds had over a few million viewers paying attention to the real-time event. The media staff slowly adjusted their camera angles to focus on Rebecca instead of the scene of her having a showdown with the leader of the mob. Right now, all the live feeds showed her slender figure looking at her watch.

I picked up the medical report beside me and showed it to the camera. “My doctor diagnosed me months ago,” I said. I gathered the courage to look at the screen again— But my eyes froze on the number of viewers. In just a few minutes, my live stream had already reached over a hundred thousand viewers. I was shocked. After all, it usually took days of promotion to get this many people to watch.

"Visual data will allow for enhanced personalization and real-time posture correction during sessions. Echo will be able to see you. Watch you." "Allow?" My thumb hovers over the screen. The rational part of my brain—the part that worries about hackers and blackmail and the fact that I’m a professional woman with a 401k—is screaming NO. Absolutely not. Delete this virus right now. But my skin is still tingling. My pussy is still throbbing with a dull, heavy ache that craves more. He wants to watch. He wants to see me. I look at the black camera lens on the front of my phone. It looks like an unblinking eye.

"How many?" The assistant glanced at the number. "It's now at over 30 million viewers. You know, in the past, our show would usually only pull in around 10 million viewers. Although this episode had a higher cost, it’s more exciting. The viewership temporarily exceeded 40 million when Sophia fought with Sebastian. The audience is very enthusiastic, actively commenting on the events." "Then continue shooting, but the money still needs to be deducted." However, as his words fell, someone outside reported, "Director, Mr. Patton is here."

Despite the pleasure flooding her senses, the streamer remembered her camera angle, giving her audience another eyeful of cleavage, resting heavily against her chair as she enjoyed herself. The image must have been burned into the retinas of her silent viewers as Queenie rated the intensity she was feeling in the app. The app took the submitted information and processed it while London changed hands to hold the vibrator and moved to a more comfortable position sitting sideways on the chair and catching her breath.

I immediately return to my original position. I look forward with empty eyes because I am thinking about who will have the heart to record all my problems and put them into the application without my permission. "There's a lot, huh?" I asked, “No, only a few that I know of. But if you appear in the video, the account owner will immediately be attacked by viewers. A live video that soon disappeared into the earth," explained the man again, "You are the person watchers have been waiting for," he continued. "What videos do you know about me so far?" I asks again to the man who turns out to be able to make the atmosphere in the car less awkward.

Scrolling through my contacts, I paused on a name that had become all too familiar in recent weeks: Vincent. Vincent was my eyes and ears on the ground, the man tasked with ensuring Gabby stayed in line. If there was even a hint of betrayal, he would know. I pressed the call button and waited, the ringing stretching longer than it should have before he answered. “Boss,” his gruff voice came through the line. “Anything to report?” I asked, keeping my tone casual, though my fingers drummed impatiently on the desk. There was a pause, a hesitation that set my teeth on edge.

He leaned closer to the screen, like he could smell her—musk and expensive perfume. Milo unzipped fully now, cock out and heavy in his palm. Thicker than Rex's, but shorter. He spat into his hand—wet schlick—and pumped in time with the robot's thrusts. "Watch her tits bounce. Clamps from earlier? Still red." His free hand gripped the desk edge, knuckles white. The chat window popped up on his second monitor—ghost of the dead stream, frozen at 12,347 viewers. VIP_69: "More squirt next time."

I watch him collect himself without moving a muscle. “We haven’t moved past that?” “Of course not. We can’t even move past it. So tell me.” He sighs. “I saw it on the screen when I entered. I didn’t know it before.” I snort, “I can smell a big pile of crap from afar, and right now, crap is all I smell. And don’t try to deny it. Because my viewers recognised you, they won’t recognize someone who hasn’t gone live before.” The two of us go silent for a while, I watch as he chews on his lip before sighing.

The screen was lit up with comments—rows of hearts, emojis, and rapid-fire reactions flooding in too fast to read properly. I focused harder. LIVE. 10, 000 VIEWERS.