My reflection stared back at me from the full-length mirror propped against my bedroom wall. I adjusted the lacy black lingerie set that barely contained my modest B-cup breasts, the fabric creating an illusion of fullness that wasn't naturally there. My pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark material, making me look nearly ghostly in the soft lighting I'd set up.
"Too basic," I muttered, turning to examine my triangle-shaped figure from the side. My narrow shoulders and slender waist widened to fuller hips, not exactly the hourglass shape that dominated most lingerie ads, but my subscribers seemed to appreciate it.
I ran my fingers through my long black hair, the straight strands falling just past my shoulder blades. My bangs, freshly trimmed last week, framed my face and partially obscured my eyes, which were typically covered by my thick prescription lenses.
The camera on my tripod blinked its ready light. Seven days into my new "career" as a telekinetic content creator, and I'd already figured out exactly what sold: the combination of my powers and just enough skin to keep the subscribers happy without crossing into that explicit place.
"Okay, Zo," I whispered to myself, using the nickname that only my parents called me by. "Make it look sexy."
I positioned myself on the edge of my bed, arching my back slightly to accentuate what curves I had. With a deep breath, I activated my telekinesis, feeling the tingle in my fingertips. My eyes began to glow that unearthly blue, catching the light and casting shadows across my cheekbones.
The silk scarf I'd placed nearby rose into the air, dancing and twirling around my body like a sentient creature. I directed it to caress my arms, brush against my collarbone, and finally wrap loosely around my wrists, binding them together in front of me.
Click
The camera's remote shutter captured the moment. I changed positions, kneeling on the bed now, letting the scarf hover above me like a canopy.
Click
"Now for the money shot," I murmured, concentrating harder. My black satin robe floated from its hook on the door, gliding toward me until it draped over my shoulders without my having to touch it. I let it hang open, framing my body while the scarf now wound its way around my thigh.
Click
The effort of maintaining such precise telekinetic control made a thin sheen of sweat break out across my forehead. My eyes burned as I pushed my abilities, lifting not just the fabric but also making my hair float around my face as if I were underwater. I'd gotten pretty good at this whole telepathy thing over the course of just seven days.
Click, click, click
I released my telekinesis with a gasp, falling back onto the bed as the items dropped to the ground. The robe settled around me, and the scarf landed across my stomach. My heart pounded, and my breath came in short pants. Using my powers like this was exhausting.
But worth it.
I checked my phone and grinned at the notification banner. Three new subscribers at the $50 tier, and one at the $250 "private request" level. My bank account had gone from double-digit desperation to a comfortable five figures in no time at all.
"Who needs to write romance novels when you can do this?" I said to the empty room, though a twinge of guilt followed the words. I hadn't written a word of "Midnight Passions" since discovering my abilities.
I transferred the photos to my laptop and began editing, enhancing the blue glow of my eyes and adjusting the contrast to highlight the ethereal quality of the floating fabrics. The final results looked magical. Literally.
As I prepared to upload the set to my P*treon, a news alert popped up on my screen: "Telekinetic Cheerleader Performs Gravity-Defying Routine : Video Goes Viral."
My stomach clenched as I clicked the link. The video showed a perky blonde in a skimpy uniform, her eyes glowing green as she suspended herself and five other cheerleaders in mid-air, forming complex patterns while maintaining perfect control.
"Fuck," I whispered, scrolling through the comments.
"This puts that writer chick to shame lol" "Now THIS is how you use telekinesis!" "Unsubscribing from ZoeyMoves right now."
I checked my P*treon stats and felt the blood drain from my face. In the past hour alone, I'd lost twenty-three subscribers.
This had been happening more frequently lately. Every day, someone new emerged with telekinetic abilities more impressive than mine. A construction worker who could lift entire steel beams. A surgeon who performed microsurgery without touching her instruments. A fucking dancer who flies through the air during routines, for Christ's sake.
My novelty was wearing off fast.
I posted the new photo set anyway, adding a teaser caption: "What should I make float next? Your suggestions might come true for the right pledge. ;)"
The innuendo was clear enough to attract attention without being explicit. I'd learned that walking that line was profitable. Suggesting possibilities while leaving everything to the imagination. These perverts loved that kinda stuff.
My phone chimed with a notification from my highest-tier subscriber, the vague user who went by "WatchingU":
"You look beautiful when you're concentrating, but I'd rather see what happens when you lose control. What if you tried using your powers during more intense moments?"
I felt my face flush hot. The suggestion wasn't subtle, and it wasn't the first time this particular subscriber had pushed for more explicit content. Their monthly contribution of $1,000 made them hard to ignore, especially as my subscriber count continued to drop.
I typed back: "I keep my content tasteful, as you know. But I might be able to arrange a special photoshoot demonstrating the effects of certain emotions on my abilities."
The response came immediately: "Name your price."
I swallowed hard. This was veering into territory I hadn't planned to explore, at least not publicly. But with my newfound fame fading faster than I could keep up with, and my bank account soon to follow...
My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I battled between financial security and my own boundaries. The cursor blinked, waiting for my decision.
That's when my laptop screen was suddenly covered; the image distorted before resolving into a glowing blue rectangle, similar to the one I'd seen when my abilities first manifested. This was the first time it had popped up since then, and what she saw on the screen differed greatly from what had been there before.
[Zoey Chambers] [Gender: Female]
[Class: Telekinetic Scribe (Rare) | Lv. 1]
[Mana: 47/100] [Mind Fatigue: 72%]
[Skills:
Basic Telekinesis (Lv. 1) → (Lv. 2!)
Enhanced Imagination (Passive | Lv. 1)]
"What the actual fuck?" I whispered, my conversation with WatchingU completely forgotten. I leaned closer to the screen. This wasn't just a notification, it was an actual status window, like something from those RPG games I used to play in college.
My mana was at less than half capacity, which explained the exhaustion I'd been feeling after the photoshoot. And my mind fatigue was pretty~ high. Was that why I'd been getting those throbbing headaches after extended sessions?
"Level two," I murmured, running my finger over the screen where it listed my Basic Telekinesis skill. "It leveled up? Like a video game character?"
The window disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. I blinked at my laptop screen, now showing my regular desktop and the half-edited photos.
"No, no, no-come back!" I waved my hands frantically, as if that would summon the blue rectangle again. Nothing happened. "Shit!"
I closed my eyes, trying to remember exactly what I'd been doing when it appeared. Oh, that's right! I'd been chitchatting with some random guy living in who knows where.
"System," I whispered experimentally. Nothing. "Status?" Still nothing. "Show me my stats? Player menu?"
And oh yeah, over the past week, people with abilities (like me) have been called 'players,' and dungeons filled with scary ass monsters have appeared all over the world. Personally, I'd never step foot in one because, seriously, what do I look like, dying for no reason?
Feeling increasingly foolish, I concentrated on the tingling sensation in my fingertips that always accompanied my telekinesis. I visualized the blue rectangle, willing it to appear.
The air in front of me shimmered, and suddenly there it was again, hovering translucently in front of my face.
"Holy shit, it worked!" I squealed, bouncing slightly on my bed. The movement made my robe fall open, but I was too excited to care. "It's like a real-life RPG!"
I examined each line carefully. My class was something called a "Telekinetic Scribe," which made sense given my writing background. But what did "rare" mean? Were there other classes out there? And what exactly was "Enhanced Imagination"? I didn't feel any different as a result of it.
I focused on the skill, willing it to show me more information.
[Enhanced Imagination (Passive | Lv. 1): Increases the vividness of mental projections and creative thought. Passive ability that enhances telekinetic manipulation of objects through visualization.]
"So that's why I'm good at precise movements," I murmured, thinking of how easily I'd manipulated the silk scarf during my photoshoot. My years of writing detailed scenes had apparently translated into an advantage here.
I noticed a small "+" symbol next to my Basic Telekinesis skill. Curious, I mentally pressed it.
[Basic Telekinesis (Lv. 2): Ability to move objects with mental power. Maximum weight: 15 pounds. Maximum distance: 20 feet. Control precision increased by 25% since Level 1.]
Below this description was a progress bar, showing I was about 5% of the way to Level 3.
"This changes everything," I breathed, my mind going on a trip. If I could level up my abilities, maybe I could compete with these other telekinetics after all. Maybe I could do things they couldn't.
A notification from my laptop pulled me back to reality. WatchingU had sent another message:
"Still waiting for that price, beautiful. Don't leave me hanging."
I glanced back at the status window still floating in front of me. My mana was low, and my mind fatigue was high. I needed to rest. But~, I also needed to maintain my income stream.
With a sigh, I dismissed the blue rectangle with a thought (discovering I could do so was oddly satisfying), and turned back to my laptop. I could explore this system later. Right now, I have bills to pay and a reputation to uphold.
"$5,000," I typed back to WatchingU. "For a private video. One time only, no distribution rights."
The response came almost instantly: "Deal. When can I expect delivery?"
My heart hammered in my chest. He accepted that outlandish price so easily... I should've asked for more!!!
"Grrrrr..." A deep, guttural growl arose from within me as I pulled the skin on my face downward with my good hand.