"Oh, look, we've been Rule 34'd." Otto stared at the image on his laptop and arched an eyebrow.

"Of course we have." Shakira, seated beside him on the couch, sighed and rolled her eyes. "Do I even want to know what it is?"

"Just a sketch of me ejaculating." Otto shrugged and picked another link at random. "Make that two. This one's in full color, though." He raised his eyebrow again. "I really hope I don't make faces like that when I shoot my load."

"That's disgusting. People are drawing child porn." She turned to face one of the wall-mounted cameras. "Those assholes should be arrested."

"I'm almost fourteen. Not exactly a child. Besides, I guess I bring a lot of this on myself because I spend so much time talking about jerking off."

"They're the ones who decided to draw it." She shuddered and kept her eyes aimed at her stainless steel laptop's screen.

Otto shrugged again and jumped to another directory. He selected another thumbnail at random and grinned when it filled his browser window. "Ah, that's more like it."

Shakira slumped forward very slightly. "I'd say I don't want to know, but you'd probably tell me anyway."

"It's a drawing of us having sex. Really well-done, too. The artist didn't make your skin quite dark enough, but other than that, I have no complaints." He grinned and saved the picture.

"Jesus." Shakira took off her glasses and rubbed her hands over her face. "Christ!"

Otto chuckled, moved on to the next file -- and grimaced. "Gyaaah! This guy drew both of us all huge and blubbery. Looks like two bags of wet laundry slapping together."

Shakira groaned and facepalmed. "Kill me."

"Come on, we're on a streaming reality show. Don't tell me you didn't expect stuff like this to happen."

"I didn't. But maybe I should've." She drew her finger idly across her computer's touchpad, leaned forward and frowned, and clicked a link. She shook her head and sneered. "Great. There's an Otto/Shakira shipping thread on the show's message board."

"Ha! I'm kinda surprised it took this long." He grinned and opened the message board in a new tab. "I am so bookmarking that one."

Shakira shook her head, closed the browser, and brought up a list of games stored in one of her online accounts. "People are gonna see that crap and think we're really doing it."

"Well, if we ever did, it'd be the best thing that'd ever happened to me."

She narrowed her eyes and flicked a glance at him. He raised his hands.

"I'm just sayin'." The front door opened and he turned, thankful for the distraction. Thoughts of himself and Shakira going at it had begun having a predictable effect on his body, so the sooner something prevented her from noticing the tent-pole, the better.

Jack burst into the room, followed by Corona and Taura.

"Uh-oh," Otto said. "You look like someone pissed in your pool."

Jack grumbled and strode into the dining room, made a sharp right turn and stomped up the stairs.

"It's a work-related thing," Corona said with a sigh. She glanced at her watch. "At least we didn't miss dinner. No need to rush it, though. Taura and I are gonna see if we can cheer Jack up." She grinned. "With dessert."

Taura smiled, looked at the floor, and cleared her throat softly. "So, um, if you'll excuse us …" She followed Corona up the stairs.

Oh, boy. Gonna have a ramrod all night, now that I have that image in my head. Otto glanced at Shakira, tried to adjust the front of his pants without being too obvious about it, and stared at his screen. He switched back to another tab and checked his private messages.

His jaw dropped when he opened the first new one and began reading. Okay, that one is pretty much instant Boner-B-Gone.

"What's wrong?" Shakira took a deep breath. "Then again, if it freaks you out, hearing about it will probably destroy my brain."

At that moment, one of their housemates, Dale the Hick, sauntered into the room with a can of beer in one hand, plopped onto the armchair across from the couch, and leaned over to grab the remote from the coffee table.

"Eh." Otto waved a hand at the message on his screen. "Some dirty old man just PM'd me. Said he wants me to come on his face."

Dale barked out a laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Sadly, yes."

"If that's the kind of audience we're attracting," Shakira muttered, "I'm starting to have second thoughts about doing this show."

"Guess I picked the perfect time to walk in." Dale kept laughing, took off his yellow Papé hat, and put it right back on at a slightly different angle. "That's pretty fucked-up."

"No kidding." Otto blocked the sender and deleted the message. "Seriously, you don't want me coming on your face. You'd drown."

Shakira stopped moving. After a solid five seconds, she placed her laptop on the cushion beside her, stood and walked slowly to the window, and contemplated the sunset while covering her mouth with one hand and shaking her head slowly. Her face took on a sort of disconnected, distantly horrified expression as if she were on the verge of falling into a fugue.

"Shit, kid!" Dale laughed again. "You scared her off!"

"She's out of my league, anyway. I'm not giving up. I just don't have any illusions about my chances."

Dale snorted. "You're life is gonna be pretty sad if some fat chick is out of your league. You gotta have some standards, kid!"

Shakira whirled around and glared at him.

Otto's mouth fell open again. You fucking hillbilly! He reined himself in and somehow managed to relax his clenched fist.

"That's a good one, coming from a guy who spends every night of his pathetic existence getting drunk, watching fart-porn, and fuckin' a jar of microwaved peanut butter."

Shakira burst out laughing and slumped against the window sill.

Dale stared at Otto, his face going kind of slack as if part of his brain had shorted out. What little there was of one to begin with, at least.

Otto placed his laptop beside Shakira's, leaned forward, and braced his hands on the coffee table.

"I do have standards, you fuckstain. That's why I don't settle for some skank who gets passed around like a bong at a frat party." He closed his laptop and stood. "Unlike some people I know." He slipped his computer into his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I need to clear my head. Think I'll go for a walk. Care to join me, Shakira?"

"Now that you mention it, I could use some time away from here." She returned to the couch and powered down her laptop.

"Cool." Otto headed for the door, turning to glance at Dale as he reached for the knob. "Try not to dribble tobacco juice on the carpet while we're gone."