My family was poor and in debt.

My parents did farm work in a small rural town. They'd always thought college was a waste of money. As far as they were concerned, I should have gotten a job and started helping the family sooner.

They didn't want me to go.

I'd cried about it, but crying hadn't changed anything.

Even with financial aid, tuition and living expenses were a mountain I couldn't climb.

Then, one day, a classmate jokingly nudged me.

"Sam, you're so pretty, and you have such a small frame. Put on a dress and make a couple of videos. You'd probably get famous."

He'd meant it as a joke.

I took it as an idea.

I ordered a cheap wig and a bargain dress online, then asked a girl from class to help me with some light makeup.

I filmed a short hand-dance video.

With the wig on and a filter over the footage, I was unrecognizable as long as nobody looked too closely.

I posted it, almost forgetting about it afterward.

It blew up.

People flooded the comments, calling me "baby" and "wife."

"Those legs are insane. My heart is literally hammering against my ribs. Somebody save me."

"She's so cute I've spent two hours kissing my phone."

My direct messages were even worse.

I picked a few to answer.

Z: Are you short on money?

Me: Yeah. [Crying sticker]

Z: Date me. Ten thousand dollars a month. Would you be interested?

Ten thousand dollars?

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

Then I made myself calm down and checked my profile.

Gender: Female.

Which meant Z was straight.

He was only offering that much because he thought the person on the other side of the screen was a pretty, innocent girl.

I almost refused. Lying to someone wasn't exactly admirable.

But then I pictured our shabby house and remembered my mother's calls, pressing me to send money.

Besides, my body was a little unusual.

Calling me a girl wasn't entirely a lie, was it?

So I said yes.

I'd never wanted very much.

Being with Z spoiled me completely.

Once, he asked me to send him a few pieces of clothing I wore regularly. I hesitated.

Me: My clothes run small. And they're really cheap. I don't think they'll fit you.

Z: I'm not wearing them. They're for something else. Is that okay?

I understood.

My face went red.

He also liked having me send voice messages before bed, listening while I chattered about the people and things around me.

His end was usually quiet, except for the occasional sound of his breathing.

I grew uncomfortable and asked in a muffled voice, "You're not making fun of me, are you?"

A soft laugh came through my earphones.

"Of course not. You have a lovely voice, baby. I like every word you say."

Damn him.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

To get him back, I turned the tables and asked him for the same things.

His worn clothes. Bedtime stories. Whatever embarrassing requests I could think of.

Z agreed to everything.

His packages arrived stuffed with his clothes, new clothes he'd bought for me, and imported snacks.

I hugged one of the boxes, absurdly happy, and sent him a message.

Me: You spoil me so much. You're practically my daddy.

Z: Then send me a voice message saying it.

My ears burned, but I wasn't about to admit defeat.

Me: I still need a puppy. Will you be my good boy?

He went quiet for so long I thought I'd upset him.

Then a voice message appeared.

A warm, low voice filled my earphones, soft enough to melt me, with a faintly lazy obedience at the end.

"Woof. Are you happy now, master?"

The sound felt like a hook, dragging a shiver all the way down my spine.

My knees weakened.

I almost dropped my phone.