Corruption of a Geek Goddess

Advisory: This is a story about a young woman, engaged to be married, flirting with and being seduced by a new friend; there are some light cuckold/voyeur elements, but ultimately it's a tale about reluctance & infidelity. It is not a story about a cheater getting her comeuppance. If you don't like this kind of story I completely understand, but you should probably find something else to read.

All characters and events are fictional.

_______________*_______________

Mark and Chelsea sat side by side at the computer, reading the email. When they were done, Mark turned to his girlfriend.

"Well? What do you think, babe?"

"Honestly? It's not the worst idea I ever heard. But, we don't know this guy at all, he's just some internet rando.

"I know. But I looked at his channel and he seems pretty legit. I mean, he's got almost a million subscribers."

"A million?" Chelsea was clearly surprised. "For, what, a guy in his living room giving workout tips?"

"I don't know what to tell you. But, yeah, I guess so. Not to sound mercenary, but that's a lot of fresh eyeballs: could be a good promotional opportunity for us. And, you know, we could definitely use a bump in subscribers. Also, we were gonna do a video on that game anyway."

"Bah. I don't know, Mark — it just feels weird." Chelsea looked at her boyfriend and could tell he wasn't ready to give up on the idea; she sighed inwardly. "Okay. Why don't we look at his videos and see what he's like."

Mark clicked over to the channel to open a couple of the most recent videos and watched as Dylan — the email correspondent — exercised and talked about the proper technique for stomach crunches and bicep curls. Chelsea could almost feel her pupils dilating. Ohhh, ok. I get it now, she thought.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Mark. "He seems friendly enough."

"You know what? Screw it, let's give it a shot. You're right, it could be good. Write him back and say we'll meet him for lunch; maybe he's cool. And if it doesn't feel right, we can always bail. What's the worst that could happen?"

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

To a very specific kind of person, they were a dream couple — exactly the kind of relationship you fantasize about while knowing it will never, ever happen for you. And to these same kinds of people, they were also famous.

Mark and Chelsea stumbled into their new career quite by accident and had spent the first year generally walking around in a daze over their good fortune. Before that there was a rough patch. They were edging out of their mid-20s, living together. Mark had quit his video editing gig and was having no fun looking for new work. And while Chelsea took up odd jobs to support them, Mark kept to his hobby as an avid gamer, spending long hours sitting in front of a screen with a controller in his hand.

But, luckily, this was not a source of tension or resentment. Instead, they'd pass most evenings in the living room, Mark playing his video games with Chelsea right beside him — watching, teasing, bantering back & forth. For whatever reason, they each enjoyed their "backseat gamer" time.

Eventually, just for fun, they made a video about one of the games and put it online. Ostensibly Chelsea's non-gamer review of the game, it was really a vehicle for slickly-packaged jokes, memes, and pop culture references. The video took off, and so they made more. In effect, they'd recreated the experience of being in their living room — like the couple themselves, the videos were sarcastic but warm, witty but accessible, and often very funny. It turned out people just enjoyed spending some time with them, in no small part because they were clearly well-matched and in love.

And it didn't hurt that the pair was easy to look at. Mark, although hardly toned — he sat in front of a computer for a living, after all — kept fairly trim and had amiable good looks: 5'8", with light brown hair and a neat goatee. Notably, he was handsome enough that it was not a bonkers mismatch for him to be coupled with Chelsea ... and Chelsea was a dish. Shorter, around 5'4", with shoulder-length straight brown hair framing her cute, friendly, bespectacled face. Even on camera she tended to dress casual & unsexy, with hoodies or baggie t-shirts camouflaging her slender yet deceptively shapely figure — but it was no secret that most of their fanbase had a wholesome crush on her.

In any event, their channel quickly racked up subscribers, and within a matter of months they were pulling in enough money to officially become full-time content creators. They'd release a new video once every week or two, and in between they'd stream their play sessions to connect with the fanbase and supplement their income. They sold endorsements, they sold merch, and generally they had a grand old time. A few months after committing to their new profession, they got engaged.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

It was after about a year of this that their new life hit a snag. It wasn't any one thing, but rather an accumulation of small headaches. Their subscriber numbers plateaued (as did, therefore, their income). Online trolls sparked a couple of internet controversies that were as stupid as they were upsetting. Mark's latent anxiety condition resurfaced; he had a harder time finding the motivation needed to put in long hours on the computer, and his appearance took a hit — his diet worsened, and his facial hair went from "neat" to "scraggly." Their output of new videos slowed, further sapping their income. They were still getting along in life just fine, but they were in a bit of rut.

All of which is to say that they were casting about for new ideas when they received that first message from Dylan:

Hi Mark, Chelsea. I love your channel — big fan! I saw you mention on twitter that you were planning to do a video on the new PS5 workout game. I thought I might do something with it myself for my fitness channel (link below), and I was wondering if you guys would be interested in a video collaboration. I think it would be a good cross-promotional opportunity for both our channels. And besides, it could just be fun to mix it up and do something different, you know?

Anyway, let me know what you think, and keep up the good work!

Once Mark & Chelsea saw the message it took about 10 minutes before they were on board with the idea. For one thing, Dylan had almost as many subscribers as they did, so it really would be a great chance to reach a new audience and pick up more viewers. For another, he seemed like a good match. His videos were neither grim fitness death marches nor soporific new age-y yoga crap. Rather, they were easy-going and informative: Dylan was just your good-looking workout buddy who knew more than you did but wasn't a snob about it. Plus, he really was good-looking, and it never hurts to have attractive people on a thumbnail.

And finally, he turned out to be local, just a 40 minute drive away from the couple's home. They wrote back within an hour and arranged to meet for lunch the next day.

\/**********\/**********\/

>>Mark<<

Chelsea & I arrived 15 minutes early, sat at an outdoor table, and ordered drinks. About 20 minutes later, just as we were starting on our second round, Dylan arrived. We watched him walk up, and I have to admit he cut a striking figure in the crowd: 6'2" and maybe 210 pounds, with not an ounce of fat that I could see — strongly built, but lean, not hulking. He was clean-shaven, with sandy hair that was cut short and strategically ruffled. All in all, a good-looking dude.

So we sat and drank and ordered appetizers, then we drank a little more. We shared our respective stories of the road to becoming internet-famous. Dylan, it turned out, wasn't even two years out of college. He'd left New Jersey to go to San Diego State on a baseball scholarship, then after graduation he decided to stick around the West Coast for a while. His family has money; they run a successful shipping business, and there was a job waiting for him back east when he wanted it. For now, though, he was having a little too much fun with his extended adolescence on the coast.

I'm sure from the outside we probably looked like a mismatched group — two professional nerds and an uber-jock — but actually we got along famously. It seems like Dylan wasn't bullshitting us about being a fan ("so cool to meet you guys!"), and the alcohol helped. Plus, he's just likeable and outgoing; we had a great time bonding some of our favorite games.

And Chelsea might have had an even better time than I did. She's picked up enough of my bad habits to hold up her end of a stupid video game conversation with no problem. Also, we've been cooped up inside too much lately and I think she just enjoyed socializing in the real world. Whatever it was, she seemed really happy and enthusiastic about the lunch and the upcoming video — I need to make sure we get out more.

By the time the check arrived, I think it's safe to say that Chelsea & I had been thoroughly charmed. We were 100% looking forward to working on that video with Dylan. We tentatively scheduled a day to film together the following week, and we set up a group text so we could all keep in touch and make plans. On the ride home Chelsea was positively buzzing with excitement over the prospect, and it's always nice to see her like that.

>> Chelsea <<

That lunch was a blast. I mean, sure, it was fun because we got to go day-drinking outdoors to shoot the shit, but mostly it was fun because Dylan is charming, man. You know how in high school the jocks on the football team were all pretty much dickheads, except there was that one guy who was very much a jock but was still nice to everybody? That guy was fun, and that's Dylan. It was nice to see Mark socializing and having a great time again; he got to geek out over video games with someone in meatspace for a change. I got tipsy had a blast joking around. And I bet that video's gonna be fire once we put it together.

And god damn is that man attractive. Now I know why Dylan has so many subscribers for a channel about pushups — I bet he's got half a million horny men and women who tune in because watching him lift is like super-soft core porn.

And that was kinda sorta the only could-be problem: on the drive back, I started worrying that I was a little too friendly with the hot guy. Mark seemed totally at ease, and anyway he's not the jealous type, but was I gushing over Dylan? Was I putting on a little show for him? Preening and laughing and finding excuses to touch his arm? I mean, yeah, I was. If Mark was any good at flirting, I think he would have realized that's what was happening. I swear I didn't mean to do it— it was just instinct. And Merlot.

Anyway, nothing came of it. We all started pitching in on the group text, at first just getting ready for the shoot, figuring out the logistics and floating ideas. Pretty soon we moved on to jokes, memes, and general banter. It was loads of fun. By the time the big day rolled around, we'd upgraded Dylan from "potential collaborator" to "new friend." Feels good, man.

>> Dylan <<

I made sure to get up early on the day of the shoot. I usually sleep in until whenever the hell I want (being a professional influencer is pretty awesome, it turns out), but I was due over at their place around 1:00 in the afternoon and I had a few things I needed to do first.

We were gonna be working out, sort of, so I'd wear workout clothes. But I was also gonna be on camera, in front of a new audience, so I still wanted to look my best. I went through the hamper and put a small load in the washing machine so I could wear my best tank top & gym shorts combo. While the clothes were drying I stopped off to get a fresh haircut and a professional shave, then picked up my clothes and ironed the day's wardrobe. (Look, I know ironing your gym clothes sounds stupid, but it's the little things that make a difference.)

The last thing I did before leaving was get in a real workout before going to the make-believe one we were about film. I didn't really need it, to be honest, but it's an old habit: Chelsea's cute as hell, and if I'm gonna be showing off my body in front of her all day, I'm gonna be sure to look as cut and as swole possible. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I was trying to put the moves on her or anything. It's just a good rule: there's a pretty girl, and you're decently ripped ... flaunt that shit. It can't hurt, is all I'm saying. So I worked my upper body until it popped, then I got dressed and drove over to see Mark and Chelsea.

When I got there I parked across the street from the bungalow they rented — it's a nice little pad and the neighborhood is pretty good with lots of yuppies moving in lately, so I guess they're doing ok for themselves. Before I could even get all the way to the front door the two of them beat me to it. They came out and greeted me with shouts and waves; Chelsea had a big smile and Mark even gave me a high-five, so they must have been looking forward to this.

We went inside and chatted for a few minutes about this and that, about the plan for the shoot. It didn't matter but, just as a guy, in the back of my mind I was slightly bummed that Chelsea wasn't dressed sexier. She still looked damn fine even in her casual clothes (t-shirt and such), but this is a workout! It's a good excuse to wrap that body in spandex, show a little midriff, that sort of thing. I mean, I was showing off for her, right? But it's whatever; I shouldn't get greedy.

>> Chelsea <<

I was appropriately stoked leading up to the shoot, and so was Mark. We'd had such a good time at lunch the other day, and I also think we were anticipating it as professionals. I know they're just silly internet videos, but we take pride in the product we put out, and I think we do a good job. But obviously there's a little bit of "same old same old," and you fall into a bit of rut after a while. A collaboration like this was a chance to do something different, and Mark & I would naturally try to be on our A-game with someone else around.

So Dylan shows up at the appointed hour and we take a few minutes first to chat and figure out how to approach the job. I gotta admit, if Dylan was easy on the eyes that first time we met him, he was distractingly hot on the day of filming. Powerful legs on display (those calves!), this tight little black tank top that left very little to the imagination ... I'm not normally one to pant audibly at beefcake, but a girl's only human, you know? And I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but it was impossible not to compare the two guys in my kitchen. I mean, Mark's hot! I've never had any complaints in that department, but no one's gonna come off well standing right next to Dylan like that. Shit, the dude's prettier than I am.

Anyway, it wasn't more than 20 minutes after Dylan arrived that we got down to it. Mark had cleared a space for us in front of the TV and set up a pair of cameras to film the area from different angles. We set up the motion sensors and booted up the game.

For the record, the game was an insipid piece of crap, more of an excuse to show off the company's new motion-capture hardware than a real attempt at a fitness trainer or a video game. After attaching the sensors the game would put a cartoon avatar of you up on the screen, then offer prompts to guide you through a series of stretches and exercises that got harder as you went along. The better you were at duplicating the right form or keeping up with the repetitions, the more points you'd earn as the game shouted cheesy words of praise and encouragement at you. In short, it was pretty lousy. But that was no problem: the whole point was to get footage for an entertaining YouTube video, and making fun of a lousy game was usually entertaining.

There was limited space in the living room, so the three of us set up in a shallow diagonal line facing the screen — Mark top-left, Dylan bottom-right, with me right in the middle — and we let the game put us through our paces. The moves started off boring and laughably easy, so we cracked jokes while waiting for something interesting to happen. After 15 or 20 minutes the game did start to ramp up to something mildly challenging. Of course the whole thing was child's play for Dylan, but eventually Mark & I did start missing cues or falling behind, and we had loads of fun teasing each other.

Dylan had no trouble keeping up with the banter — turns out he's kind of a natural performer, so that was good — but then sometimes he'd give us actual tips or move over to show us how to do something right. Sometimes me, sometimes Mark, but before long mostly me. And that's where my day went sideways, because it turns out the line between training and groping can be a little blurry. Like, how do you move someone's body into the proper position without laying your hands on her in a really familiar way? And if you're the "her," and the guy is stupidly good looking, how do you not feel a certain kind of way about it?

So for instance, we'd be working on this set of stretches, and I'd fuck it up and make a joke, then Dylan who was standing right next to me would come up from behind and be all, "haha, here, let me show you," like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. And then he'd be pressed up against my back, holding my wrist and my hip to move me around, talking right into my ear, and I can smell his sandalwood aftershave, and I'm way way too aware of the contact between us and I start blushing, and is he intentionally rubbing up against my ass like that? Should I move away? And my heart is in my throat when that treacherous fucking game sees I'm hitting the right pose and shouts out "NICE! KEEP GOING!" like it thinks this is funny.

And then I get worried and glance over at Mark, but he's kind of in front of us and can't see what's happening, so he's just paying attention to the screen and making quips while this Adonis cuddles with his girlfriend from two feet away. This happened, oh, six or seven times. Or eight. Or nine.

After a couple hours of filming we figured we had everything we needed and settled in the living room to chat and have a beer. Mark was having a good time, but I was a secret flustered mess and made sure Dylan left after the first drink. I said I needed to take a shower, but really what I needed was to address the fact that my panties were now federally protected wetlands. 30 seconds after closing the bathroom door I had the showerhead in my hand with the massager set to full power, and I just went to town on myself.

God, Dylan, he just ... put his hands all over me, spoke with his lips right up beside me where I could feel his breath tickle my ear. Little micro-doses of intimacy ... I had to stifle my moans in the shower thinking about all this ... and then the image flashed in my mind of the back of Mark's head, he was right fucking there and Dylan didn't give a shit ... that's what set me off for good and I completely failed to stay quiet. Jesus.

It was obnoxious how much this all got to me. I must be imagining things. At least a little. Because maybe Mark couldn't see what was happening, but we were on camera, for crying out loud, and Dylan wouldn't feel me up like that when he knows Mark will see all the footage, right? It has to be more innocent than it was in my head ... especially because, in my head, it was fucking lewd. Maybe Dylan wasn't thinking about being on camera, but I sure as hell was, and it was a struggle not to visibly swoon. Shit.

Alright Chelsea, settle down. Breathe. I'm sure it wasn't as bad as all that. And if it was, maybe it won't show up on camera and Mark won't notice. And if he does, he can't really be pissed at me, right? And if he is, what about that girl at Comic-Con last year who came up to us and gushed about what a big fan she was? She was flirty. She was hanging off Mark like a shameless trollop while she got her selfie. And Mark sure was friendly right back, believe you me. But did I make a stink about it? I did not. I laughed it off. We both did. So, there: I've got precedent on my side.