Page 7 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
What is “this”? Well, many people would probably judge me harshly if they knew. But I would beg them to hear me out, take them back to the beginning so they could at least try to understand.
I suffer from occasional anxiety attacks. I don’t know if something’s broken in my brain or if it’s not psychological at all and stems from something physical.
There are movies in which certain characters, usually timid or nerdy ones, will sometimes panic when confronted with a difficult situation, and they’ll pull out an asthma inhaler and breathe in desperately. I’m sometimes sort of like those characters—although I don’t have asthma, I don’t have an inhaler, and my panic will bubble up out of nowhere. Like, I’ll be on my computer, writing code, and all of a sudden I’ll start thinking about death for no reason. And my mind will spiral out of control, and I’ll feel pain in the pit of my stomach or right in the center of my heart.
One of the random things I worry about, that will pop up out of nowhere, is money. My parents have made clear that they’re not helping me financially with college at all, mainly because they’ve been paying for Nash’s college expenses (heisthe Golden Boy after all) and both of them are still paying off their own student loans. There’s nothing left for me.
Also, I wasn’t a part of my parents’ plans in the first place, really. One time when my mom was lit from a couple glasses of wine, she let slip that I was an accident. They weren’t expecting me. And even though both my parents are super Catholic, my mom claimed that my dad wanted her to have an abortion. But she demanded that I be born.
I’m not convinced that all this is true. But true or not, what a shitty thing to talk to your son about. In her own sick way, she was trying to express her love for me.
“Dad wanted to get rid of you,” my mom said. “I mean, sure, we could afford another child, but that meant paring down financially, buying less of the things that we wanted, going on fewer vacations, sacrificing more. But having you was worth it. I love you so much. You’re worth all the sacrifices.”
After that I was determined to find a way to pay my own way through college, without having to take out loans, because I saw how much debt my parents were in. And whenever they argued, they usually argued about money. I wanted to be financially disciplined. I needed to make a lot of money.
Last school year, when I was a junior, there was one day when I was jerking off to some gay porn in my bedroom when I noticed an announcement at the top of the home page of the site I was on. It said that people could make a lot of money if they uploaded their own videos to the site.
After researching a bit, I found out that uploaders would get a cut of advertising revenue. Plus, visitors to the site would sometimes “tip” people with money if those visitors were generous.
I decided to conduct an experiment to see if getting involved on this site would be a viable source of income.
Because I was so insecure about myself, especially when I compared myself to my brother, and because I burned withjealousy about the financial advantage given to him by my parents, I decidedhewould be the center of my experiment.
So I ordered a spy camera online. (I made a little freelance money working remotely as a computer programmer.) I strategically placed the camera in the vent in the bathroom that he and I share. Sometimes his showers are reeeeeeeeeeally long, so I’ve always suspected that he beats off in there.
On the first day of recording all the activity that went on in our bathroom (the camera was motion-activated), I already struck gold. When I was reviewing the footage that night, I saw my brother masturbating.
I almost immediately started editing down the footage of my brother to the hottest three minutes or so. Now I’m not a sociopath or mean or anything, so I had the good sense to teach myself how to blur out my brother’s face on the video by watching YouTube tutorials. I wanted to make sure that he was anonymous, couldn’t be identified. And then, I created a user profile on the site and uploaded the video.
To my surprise, after a few days, the video started to rack up a lot of views. After all, my brother had the perfect body, complete with muscles and abs, and his dick was a sight to behold. Big, meaty, impressive, but not like freakishly huge.
I saw my cut of the ad revenue increasing, and visitors who thought the user profile belonged to my brother started depositing money into my user account, which prompted me to post more jerk-off videos of Nash.
I eventually made some of the longer shower videos available behind a paywall, and some people actually paid money to watch them. The more shower videos I posted, the more money I made.
At first, I was earning pocket money. Then, it got into the hundreds. Then, thousands.
I think the videos got so popular because, yes, Nash is objectively hot, but in some of the videos he does more than stroke his dick. The videos with the most views and “thumbs up” are the ones in which he’s doing different things, like kissing his own biceps or gliding his tongue along his armpit or cupping his balls or—this one made me a lot of money—massaging his butt cheeks.
What started out as a little experiment turned into a very lucrative business. That’s how I was able to buy that used gray Prius by myself. That’s why I have all that money to spend on me and my friends.
I’ve told my parents and everyone else that the money comes from apps that I’ve created and sold, and everyone believes me because they all consider me a “computer genius.”
But nobody, absolutely nobody, knows how I actually make all this money.
Do I feel guilty? Do I feel like I’m doing something wrong? Absolutely. Like I said, I’m not some kind of sociopath. I know what an invasion of privacy this is. I mean, I would be pissed beyond belief if anybody did this tome.
But I’ve become intoxicated by the money, by the kind of lifestyle the money allows me to have, by the amazing future I’m heading towards because of this money.
Also, any time I think I’m going to quit doing this, I notice the look of admiration and awe that my mom and dad have whenever Nash walks by. So my actions aren’t only financially motivated, but they’re also fueled by my feelings of injustice.
By the end of my junior year of high school, the money coming in from the porn site started to dry up. It was clear that shower videos, no matter how varied, were not enough. I needed to up my game.
So I moved the spy cam to the inside of the smoke alarm in my brother’s bedroom. That’s where it is now, after being there all summer. It’s now the fall.
The lens is aimed directly at his bed, so I’ve been able to record him having sex with Alessandra. There’s some really good money-making footage. Aside from the vanilla sex that I was in the room for this morning, they’re also into rough stuff: tying each other up, throwing each other around. There’s also some weird role-playing with costumes (pirates!).
I haven’t uploaded any of these videos yet. I’ve just been working on blurring Nash’s and Alessandra’s faces, which takes a lot of time.
