My heart pounded as I read the task details. Giving my Facebook password? That felt too personal, a line I wasn't sure I wanted to cross. But then I reminded myself, it was just a new account, barely used, created to ease my loneliness and boredom. No deep secrets, no personal memories, just a handful of college friends and no one from my hometown or family. There was nothing on Facebook worth protecting, nothing to lose. And βΉ2500 was a lot of money, more than I could ignore. I felt uneasy at first; I'd never even uploaded a photo on Facebook before, and the idea prickled my nerves. But the money was so tempting, whispering promises of relief from my constant financial strain. Maybe it wasn't such a big deal, I thought, hoping no one would notice the post since my account was new with so few friends. Before I could overthink it, my fingers moved on their own, typing my username and password into the DCT app.
A second thought hit me, the likes and comments from my last task flashed in my mind. Why not post a picture like that again, sweaty and raw? Should I take one now? My eyes flicked to the mirror: messy hair, damp clothes sticking to my skin, flushed cheeks glowing with nervous energy. Would it be bolder to post as I was? The idea sent a shiver of excitement through me, a thrill that made my pulse race, but something held me back, a flicker of the old me, cautious and modest, tugging at my conscience.
Instead, I turned to my wardrobe and pulled out a red salwar kameez, modest, comfortable, familiar. I'd always dressed conservatively: long sleeves, high necklines, even my nightwear was sleeved loose tops, gowns, and full-length pajamas. I wanted to look presentable yet feel at ease. But I was too sweaty to slip into something as nice as this salwar without cleaning up first. So, with the salwar and a towel in hand, I headed to the bathroom, the excitement building so much that I'd been holding my pee for what felt like forever. As soon as I reached the toilet, I frantically tugged down my pants and panties, my body trembling, every muscle taut from holding it in so long. The second I sat, I couldn't hold back, a warm, rushing flood burst out of me, hitting the water with a quiet splash. Oh god, the relief, it was like every tight, twisted knot inside me unraveled at once. My whole body sighed, the ache dissolving into sweet release. I was lost in the pure bliss of letting go.
I stripped off the rest of my clothes, standing naked now, and caught my reflection in the mirror. My skin glistened, slick with sweat, every curve shining under the bathroom light. I couldn't help it, a proud smile spread across my face. All this sweat, this wildness, was proof of my nerve, my boldness. What was pushing me into these crazy moments, these little adventures that left me breathless and grinning? I took a quick bath, letting the cool water wash away the stickiness, refreshing me from head to toe. Back in my room, I styled my hair quickly, still a little wet since I didn't have a hairdryer, and applied a light touch of makeup, nothing fancy, just enough to look fresh.
I took a few pictures and chose the one that made me feel good. The red salwar kameez was modest, long sleeves, high neckline, my dupatta draped over my chest. I added the quote:
"I love my body shape, and the body is the temple of the soul."
I posted it on Facebook, unsure how to share it to the DCT app, so I sought help from their support. They assured me they'd handle it, and I went to bed, not thinking too much about it.
The next morning, I opened Facebook to check my post, and my jaw dropped. The picture had over 3,000 likes, 500+ comments, and 300 new friend requests. I felt stunned. Was this really happening? I'd never received so much attention in my life. I wasn't used to it, but it made me feel special, like I was finally noticed, no longer invisible. A rush of joy bubbled up, tingling through me.
I checked the DCT app, and just like that, βΉ2500 had been transferred to my account. I was over the moon, the app had kept its promise. The excitement was overwhelming, so much so that I forgot to delete the post after 12 hours. It didn't bother me; in fact, I desperately wanted to read all the comments, but I was already late for college. Since I'd bathed the night before, I skipped it, used the washroom, changed into my uniform, and ran out the door. During class, I couldn't focus, too caught up in the thrill of recognition. The excitement buzzed through me, drowning out the lecture, so I secretly checked the comments on my phone, managing to avoid getting caught. Some were definitely from DCT app members, they referenced the app or my last video, while others I couldn't place, a mix of random Facebook users or maybe more DCT fans. The comments were a rollercoaster, just like before, and I loved it, every word fueling my growing confidence. Likes, comments, and friend requests kept pouring in, and I didn't even consider deleting the post anymore.
During the college break, I opened the app again, eager for the next task. Two options appeared: a simple task for βΉ3000 or a daring task for βΉ5000. I couldn't see the details until I chose one, and once selected, there was no canceling or backing out, it'd affect my grade, like failing. Since I was still at college, I picked the simple task.
Task 5: