Krysta turned down repeated, enthusiastic offers from Lexie for a ride to the airport. Though she had developed some fondness for Lexie, she had no desire to burden Lexie's boyfriend Ben with the 4:30 AM drive. She had also reached her Lexie limit, and Marla—who coined the term Lexie limit—offered Krysta a rideshare discount coupon. While waiting in the lobby for her ride, Krysta grabbed a complimentary English Breakfast and a banana and stepped into the bathroom for an early-morning selfie.
Krysta wore black leggings and an old blouse, buttoned up to her collar, that draped under her bust, obscuring her curves. After a week under the scrutinizing eye of the camera, she was ready to blend in. The top buttons showed some strain thanks to her continued expansion in the last couple years. Her driver gave her more than a couple of glances, and she caught some double-takes in the airport terminal, but the blouse saved Krysta from significant leering as she made her way to her gate and checked in.
Having gotten through the week spending less money than expected, Krysta treated herself to an $80 first-class upgrade at the gate. From the First Class lounge, she fired off thank you messages to Marla and Lexie and captured a burst of selfies in a bathroom several steps up from the Holiday Inn Express. Though pleased with the shots, Krysta ultimately chose to post one of the photo shoot outtakes provided to her for the express purpose of publicity.
Boarded and seated, Krysta unpacked her laptop and tinkered with the Google Analytics data she'd exported into Excel. She'd gotten a healthy bump in site traffic from the buzz over the photo sets which DreamGirls would release steadily the over next half year. Krysta would also receive a teaser video and photoset to release through her site for cross-promotion. Her exposure to Lexie Cheer's young, active Snapchat following caused a short-term bump in Krysta's mobile traffic. These filtered into a handful of new subscribers which, for the time being at least, would make up for the handfuls she'd lost over the last several months.
"Ma'am, we'll need you to stow your laptop for takeoff."
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Krysta said, promptly shutting her laptop and sliding it under her seat. "By the way, would it be any trouble to get a Waterbrook Mélange Red? I get jittery during takeoff."
"No problem!"
"Thank you so much."
The lights dimmed and Krysta sat back, nursed her wine as she took in a beautiful 6:30 AM sunrise. As her plane lifted into the sky, she watched the horizon grow longer until it disappeared under the clouds.
Away from the excitement of photoshoots, sightseeing, and shopping, Krysta now turned her mind to what was next. While she'd planned her next moves, there remained uncertainty over the farther horizon of her career. As much as Krysta's fans loved her, many already had the content they wanted, while others were happy enough with her social media shares. This left her with limited options for the growth of her operation. Her ever-expanding bust kept fans interested, but the gains were not enough to fight the long-term trend.
"Ma'am, may I get you a—"
"Another Mélange Red, please."
Ready to escape from her data, Krysta signed onto the complimentary Wi-Fi, checking her messages and email. She cleared the Instagram notifications and sorted through her inbox. An email from her old college roommate Sydney jumped out at her.
Like Krysta, Sydney focused on her webcam career after graduation. In the subsequent years, however, she steadily pivoted her career toward traditional modeling. Making a few connections from mid-level music video gigs, Sydney eventually broke into paid club and party appearances. A Psychology & Philosophy double-major with law school eternally on the back burner—she embraced the role of party girl socialite. Eventually, after several years trailing her one-time protégé, Sydney overtook Krysta once again in social media popularity, reaching nearly 900 thousand Instagram followers.
The flight attendant returned.
"Ma'am, may I—"
"The Cabernet this time, please."
Despite agreeing to a 1:45 PM pickup time, Julie arrived at the airport around 2:00. Pulling into curbside pickup, she found a tanned Krysta glued to her phone and leaning precipitously against a baggage cart. Krysta gave a slight wave as she caught Julie’s eye.
"Hey! Quit your textin' and get in," Julie shouted, gesturing at the open trunk.
Krysta neither replied nor looked up, but continued reading as she climbed into the car. When the car did not move, Krysta finally looked up at Julie who grinned, amused.
"What is it?"
"God, it only took one week for you to go full SoCal."
Krysta raised her sunglasses and gave Julie a gentle glare. Julie snickered, pulling out of the loading area and onto the road. "Don't give me that look. You called me."
"Alicia does not drive and, after meeting Whitley's sister, I am not in the mood for more Valentine right now."
"If you're sick of Whitley, you can send her my way. She's the best photography subject I've had in months."
"She might take you up on that, being suspended for a week and all."
"For the volleyball fight?" Julie said. Krysta responded with a surprised look. "What? I have Instagram too, not to mention, ya' know, the internet. She even made the Yahoo! News homepage."
"Regardless, she is all yours. Alicia and I walk a delicate enough balance at home without Whitley being stuck at home moping and hot-boxing the place."
"Like I said…"
"I will tell her you are willing to pay and feed her. She will probably come right over."
"Sounds good. So, how was the rest of the week? Have your mega-bobos reached celebrity status?"
"If anything, they are trendy again. DreamGirls will release the half-dozen or so sets we did over the course of couple years. They definitely plan to milk this one."
"That's a fun image."
"Plus, Alexis Cheer posted more pictures of me in the last week than she did of herself. The woman is nothing if not a cheerleader."
"Nice."
"And the check from DreamGirls will cover next month's mortgage and part of the next."
Julie whistled. "Sounds like a bucket of wins to me."
"For sure. I am still glad I waited this long. I was starting to run low on inspiration."
"Judging by the weight of your suitcases, you brought back more than just inspiration."
"I did some shopping. Lexie took me on a day trip to a specialty bra boutique in Los Angeles as well as some trendy vintage shops. DreamGirls even let me hold onto some outfits. So yes, plenty of new wardrobe choices for upcoming content."
"And some new stuff to sell on your eBay page. I'm always surprised how much you make from those. I mean, I assume people are buying your old outfits to wear them, right?"
"I tend not to think about that part of it and just focus on the tax deductions. Again, it is for the fans. They paid for most of my shopping, least I can do is give them something to enjoy."
Julie gave Krysta a sidelong glance. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were talking about a boyfriend.
"For all intents and purposes, my fanbase is my significant other."
"Krysta, that's sad."
"I suppose," Krysta said with a shrug, "but it is akin to being married to my job.”
"Oh, that's way better. You think that's healthy?"
"Julie, I am an internet pinup model. Nothing about this is healthy. Fortunately, the giant breasts schtick has more longevity than conventional modeling, and that makes up for my extra pounds and plain looks."
"You could jump on the Snapchat train."
What the hell would a geek shut-in with no social life post to Snapchat? 'Reading the International Journal of Mathematics! Hashtag Holomorphic isometries!' No, I cannot do social messaging."
"No, Krysta, you don't do social messaging because of the cost-benefit analysis, and you won't do it because it's too easy. You could easily analyze your way to Snapchat success, but you also know you could toss up random cleavage photos and have five figures of followers by the weekend. You don't do it for the same reason you turned down the UC Berkeley Doctoral Scholarship in favor of starting your own tits website."
Krysta shoved her folded arms under the balcony of her breasts, a maneuver that promptly dislodged the already straining top buttons of her shirt. Two pops were followed by the sound of one button ricocheting off the window and a second settling on the dashboard.
Julie's eyebrows shot up. "I bet you wish you had video of that."
With a resigned smile, Krysta tugged the collar downward and outward, framing her décolletage. "Yes, Julie. Any ordinary girl with double-Ds and a low neckline can have four or five figures of Snapchat followers. You know what, though? Anyone with half a brain can do math."
Krysta pulled up her camera app and took pictures of her cleavage and the buttons sitting on the dashboard. "The thing is, having a magnificent rack will not serve a Doctoral program nearly as well as statistical methodology expertise serves marketing very softcore smut."
Julie nodded. "You do have an edge there."
"Math is the code of the physical world. It is also achingly predictable. Here, I get statistics, sociology, psychology, art, data analytics, accounting, photography, media studies, public affairs, business management, and marketing, all together. For me, internet modeling is bigger than a career; it is my gesamtkunstwerk."
Julie tapped on her phone, mounted on the dashboard. "Hey, Siri. What does—"
"In English, it translates to 'total work of art.' It is most often attributed to composer Richard Wagner regarding his approach to opera, but was actually first used by philosopher Karl Trahndorff in—"
"Jesus, Krysta, how much wine did you have on the plane?"
Krysta rubbed her stomach and groaned. "Three glasses too many."
"So, four?"
"Five. Hey, I need to reset my circadian rhythm. Can I interest you in hitting up a sandwich shop for dinner? My treat."
"My treat. You're only offering because you're tipsy."
"You are only offering because you have more money than you know what to do with. Just to warn you, I will be ordering a few courses: garden salad, a side of olives, and a Cubano—no peppers. The salad is for now, the Cubano is definitely for after the show, and—"
"...the olives are for eating out of your cleavage during your show."
Krysta crinkled her nose in frustration. "Am I that predictable?"
Julie rolled her eyes dramatically as she pulled off onto the exit for downtown Northshore. "Achingly predictable."
"All right, I will try eating a couple hands-free, but after that, it is back to normal snacking. These are good olives, you guys!"
Krysta leaned forward, resting her breasts on the desk in front of her. Her doughy flesh rose from the packed-beyond-capacity 34H demi-cup bra, leaving her plenty to work with as she slipped the small mason jar of olives into her cleavage. With the jar full, she waved both hands, before placing them palms-down on the table.
"How easy is it for me to do this?"
Krysta tilted her head forward and plucked two olives from the glass into her mouth.
"Ta-da!"
Following the initial success of launching of her pinup website, Krysta spent a year developing ideas for live video. She studied dozens of successful webcam performers, playing their videos side-by-side with her own recorded attempts to emulate them. Krysta eventually developed her own on-camera style which Sydney would dub 'the halfway point between Reading Rainbow and softcore porn.'
Krysta extracted the jar of olives from her cleavage and set them aside. "That concludes the tricks portion of our show. Before we transition to Q&A, I would like to again thank everyone for tuning in this evening."
"Hallo, Sehrsebastian! Guten Abend!"
"Sorry, but that is all the German I know. I will keep practicing!
Krysta had long trained herself to hold a straight face while reading comments. She'd also learned to drown out the noise and pick out a few for steady conversation. It had taken a lot of practice.
"You know, AlanCentaur, that is an interesting question. Maximizing the awesomeness of one's tits comes down to three things: bra, posture, and makeup."
Krysta elucidated the basics of bra styles, makeup shading, and neutral spine, demonstrating along the way. It was hardly the first time she'd fielded the question. Next to her desk sat a wooden shelving unit packed with props including oils, lotions, several styles of glasses, a water bottle, cough drops, measuring tape, and a hairbrush.
The highlight of the show for her would be several members expressing their surprise at seeing her in sweatpants when she got up to retrieve additional bras for demonstration.
"Yes, I am wearing sweats. What did you think I would be wearing?"
"Sorry to disappoint. I am wearing gray sweats. That is not to say, however, it is what I am always wearing when I do these."
"How old am I? Easy enough to answer, but why tell when you can show? You can find that info, along with my measurements on kcupkrysta.com." Krysta tabbed over to her real-time site visitor analytics, the number jumping from the fifties to triple digits in seconds.
"Do I like it? Par for the course for me. I suppose at some point it will become impractical, but I am not there yet."
Krysta had planned for this question to the point of rehearsal.
"I had a wonderful time with her. She has very different energy from mine, and it pushed me into places I did not expect. It was incredibly fun, and I think you will enjoy the results."
"So, we have a couple minutes before we transition into topless tutoring. Please give me a moment to reset the stage."
Krysta reached down and pulled out her two binders of archived notes from her desk drawer. Years of handwritten notes from high school and college math courses had been relegated to a prop for her live videos. She'd even replaced the original binder with a more visibly worn one she'd found second-hand.
"All right, I typically save this for my paid subscribers, but everyone tuning in on Instagram today gets a topless tutoring teaser."
"Well-played, Nigel. It will be a titillating topless tutoring teaser."
Krysta decided if she weren't going to post stories to Instagram, she would find another way to give the fans a controlled glimpse at her life beyond breasts. She preferred this to photographing her every meal, bus stop selfies, or—God forbid—inspirational quotes.
"Okay, who has the first question?"
"Luke, I will start with the spoiler: it is false. Unfortunately, you will not get far without explanation, so let's start with that function 'f' and work from there."
Krysta had seen the question before and often ignored it. She had never had a short answer.
"Hmmm. Quathboom asks: why show your tits on the internet when you could be a college math professor?"
Krysta adjusted her glasses and propped her chin forward into her hand, being careful not to obscure the camera's view of her cleavage. A coy grin snuck onto her face.
"Because, Quathboom, I do not want to be a college math professor."
Krysta leaned in, letting her breasts rest on the desk in front of her. "I want to show my tits on the internet."
"Okay, now let's get back to that function 'f.'"