Www.ifeelmyself.com -

Then, a voice. It was her own, but softer, the voice she used only in the shower.

The screen flickered, and she gasped. It wasn't a livestream of her face. It was a slow, high-definition rendering of her own hands resting on her knees. The detail was obscene—the tiny scar from a baking accident at twelve, the chipped nail polish she hadn't bothered to fix. www.ifeelmyself.com

But curiosity is a sharper knife than logic. She typed it into a Tor browser on her laptop. The screen went black. For a moment, she thought she’d bricked the machine. Then, a single line of white text appeared: Then, a voice