The sun was setting over the mansion, casting a golden hue over the sprawling grounds. Celeste stood by the large windows, looking out over the water of her private pool, her thoughts a whirlwind of success, power, and the ever-growing hunger that gnawed at her. She'd been so focused on the endless cycle of feeding, performing, and expanding her influence that she hadn't noticed how quickly time had passed.
It had been a few months since her mother had moved in, since the world had embraced Birth of a Popstar, and since her transformation into the woman she was now. She had made a name for herself in a way that very few artists could claim, her music reaching the top of the charts, her singles Riot and Popular dominating radio stations worldwide. She was the new face of pop, the icon the world never knew it needed.
But it came with a price.
Marcus and Julian—her binders, her servants, the men who had become more than just tools for her ascension—now lived with her, their primary role being her "pool boys." It wasn't just about sex anymore; it was about making feeding a casual thing, a part of her day-to-day life. The hunger that had consumed her at first was now something that could be sated with a kiss or a touch, with a shared moment of passion. It was a game of power, manipulation, and intoxicating pleasure.
Rollie, her younger sister, had no idea what was really going on. She thought Celeste was just… being a hoe. That was the simplest explanation that Celeste had allowed her to believe. The men were her employees, and while Rollie didn't know the specifics, she wasn't exactly oblivious to the lavish lifestyle her sister was now living.
"Wow, sis, you're really turning the house into a resort," Rollie commented one day, lounging on the couch as Marcus and Julian prepped the pool for the evening. "You're like… some kind of pop queen. These guys literally do whatever you want."
Celeste smirked, but there was a flicker of something darker in her eyes. Rollie wasn't wrong. The two men were at her beck and call, feeding her in the most intimate of ways. She had control, absolute control, and that gave her the ability to manipulate her environment to ensure that she never had to feed in a way that was too dangerous, too obvious.
And Rollie, in her innocence, had no idea what was really going on.
As Celeste turned back toward her desk, she saw the familiar notifications lighting up her phone. The chart positions. The followers. The recognition. It was endless. Her debut album, Birth of a Popstar, was still climbing the global charts, earning more streams than any artist could dream of in such a short time. And now, the messages from her label, Columbia Records, were coming through faster than ever.
We need to start planning your next album.
The world tour is a go. Six months. Are you ready?
Your next album release is crucial to capitalizing on the momentum you've created. Let's get it started.
Six months. A world tour. It felt like everything was moving at lightning speed. She was more than ready for it.
And then, there was the message from Cody Simpson.
The Australian singer had been following her rise for a while, and now they were in the midst of casual conversations that were slowly but surely turning into something more. He was charming, attractive, and already in her orbit, but now, Celeste could feel the undeniable pull between them. They'd flirted in the past, but something had shifted recently.
He was starting to chase her.
Hey Celeste, I've been thinking… I want to see you. Let's hang out when you get a chance?
She grinned at the message, fingers poised over the screen. She had always admired Cody's music, his effortless style, and the way he carried himself in the spotlight. He wasn't like the others—he wasn't asking for something from her the way others had. He was genuine. He saw her as Celeste, the woman, not the popstar.
She replied with a simple, I'd like that.
A few weeks later, Cody had arranged for them to meet up in person. It was subtle at first, casual. Dinner. Drinks. But as the night wore on, there was no denying the chemistry. Cody was different. He didn't expect anything from her other than her presence. He wasn't trying to manipulate or feed off her power like everyone else around her.
And it was refreshing.
But even as they shared laughs and exchanged stories of their respective worlds, Celeste couldn't ignore the underlying feeling that followed her everywhere: the hunger, the need. It was almost like it was a part of her, an addiction she couldn't outrun.
But she could control it. She had learned that much.
Weeks passed, and her relationship with Cody deepened. It was odd, this balance between her public life and the private darkness she was keeping from him. She knew she couldn't tell him about the cult, about the things she had done. But the pull to him was undeniable.
Then, there was the looming world tour.
The Birth of a Popstar album was still making waves—global charts, viral hits, and millions of streams. It was everything she'd dreamed of, and more. But Columbia wanted more. The pressure to produce another hit album was mounting, and Celeste could feel the weight of it.
We need you to start working on the next album. ASAP. We've got a solid window to drop it before you head out on tour.
She knew what they wanted. They wanted more of her—the popstar, the brand. But what they didn't understand was that Celeste was no longer just a popstar. She had become a force.
The album would come. The world tour would happen. But she was no longer just playing the game. She was the game.
Her new power, her control over her own world, was more intoxicating than anything she had ever imagined.
But as Cody reached for her hand one night, his touch grounding her in ways she hadn't expected, Celeste realized something.
The deeper she sank into this world, the further she moved away from everything she once knew. Cody was the only one who seemed to see her as something other than a commodity.
But how long could that last?
As she leaned in to kiss him, the sound of her phone buzzing once more interrupted the moment.
It was another message from Riot.
We need to talk. Your power is growing, and we need you to take the next step. The world is watching, Celeste. Are you ready to become something more?
Her pulse quickened, the hunger thrumming beneath her skin. She had to respond. She had to embrace it. She was a star now, and the darkness that came with it would never let her go.
Not now. Not ever.
And as she stood up from the chair, her gaze moving toward the window, Celeste couldn't help but feel the weight of everything pressing down on her. The tour, the album, the endless expectations. But most of all, she felt the pull of the power she had embraced—this dark, intoxicating power.
And it was only going to grow stronger.
She was ready.