Catfish Curry
“Are you a guy pretending to be a hot Korean guy with sex slaves?”
“I’m not!” he replied. “I’m Korean.”
“That’s what he said too,” I replied.
“I’ve a Korean name.” I could feel his annoyance in his text. Sometimes I felt like trolling and this was one of those days.
“I know of two guys, one white and the other brown, who had Korean names.”
“You saw my profile and instagram pictures,” he said.
“I did, but I was just catfished, and I need more proof,” I said. It was unfair that most guys got to see how I looked like but they weren’t willing to do the same. Yes, I understood their paranoia but what about me?
“What is catfish?” he asked.
“Search it,” I said.
“Don’t treat these people as real people,” H said. “They don’t treat you as real. See how they drop you like that. They don’t care.”
Dropping like flies. A mayfly lasts two days. I should be proud I could keep my fishes hooked for longer than that. And thank H for providing the content to sustain the frenzy feeding.
Being somewhat newb in the online world and two hundred percent more than naive, I was still falling for the “maybe I’d meet a new friend” mode.
Do unto others what you want others to do unto you.
Shit. If only people followed that rule. Maybe that’s why good people are good suckers.
“I can be whoever I want to be online,” said the catfish.
“Yeah. You can but you lied to me.”
It all started with a red flag of my own making. There has to be a rule for this because I did it twice in less than a day, and the results proved that it was a stupid move.
Rule: Never randomly pick strangers on Instagram to make friends.
Unless you knew more, it was hit or miss. There are more misses of finding someone genuine than fake.
At least, from vid chat or dating apps, the guys are bound by rules and id verified not to fake as much. Though one could argue filters and AI tech can completely change a person’s looks, you might as well be talking to an avatar.
It is the human condition to make connections with another real-looking human. That’s why idols exist, and I’m not discounting the realness of anime or game characters, plushies, or, for the kinks, their furries and sex dolls.
To each his/her/their/me/you, our own.
So in his case, he, the guy with a Korean name, is a hot Korean guy with sex slaves. Except he was not. Far from it, but I think it is a catfish curry.
Forgive me for my blatant racism. Until now, I felt warranted to lash out at the man who lied through his teeth, and after blocking him and checking up on him, he was still online playing his games with the same ID.
On the day I met him on Insta, he had over two hundred women of different races. Travel pics in Europe, none of his face. He loved biking, and his statuses were in Korean, and comments from those pretty women showed he was popular.
We started chatting fast. My usual ammo about sex and the Byeontae game dropped like a bomb in a close ten minutes of his DM.
He asked if I’d like bdsm. I have yet to show him my naughty Insta as I spoke to him from my general account. So, this meant he enjoyed power play.
“Light bdsm. Spanking, rope, a little choking, cuffs,” I replied. “U?”
“Yes, me too. My gf like nipple clamps.”
“Oh. Those hurt.” I scowled. I tried them before those pesky metal suckers. They were nothing like the teasing bite of a sensuous mouth.
“The more painful, the more she liked,” he said.
“Really?” In my head, I was imagining a Korean girl with a slim physique with metal clamps to her small breasts and pert nipples. I saw her crying out each time this hot guy punished her.
At that time, I didn’t think too much that I couldn’t see his face in his Insta pictures. His body was enough for me to tell he packed a punch. Plus, to be casually talking about sex and BDSM in the earlier days of my journey made me excited. I was a novice, eager to catch a hot Korean guy.
“She also likes handcuffs,” he added, “And she likes to watch me have sex with other girls.”
“Woah. She does?”
“So you've done threesomes before?” I asked, my voice breathless as I tried to stay calm.
Now, this was a topic I was interested in. Be it male-male-female or female-male-female, the idea of having another added to the fun. However, I didn’t care for the female-male-female myself because a cougar didn’t share, and I was sure I wasn’t into girls. Still, all sex stories were welcomed, always.
“Ask me again if I like girls, and I’d ask you if you wanna be taken by a guy during sex. I’d punch her face.” This usually stopped the guys who were overly enthused about seeing their favorite Milf going at it with another girl.
“I like finding the girls and making them my slaves,” Catfish guy continued.
“You hunt them,” I grinned to myself. I could relate to this: the thrill of finding and securing someone new. The old me would frown upon this. The new Yuki mama loved it. He said he loved them curvy.
Objectification. It’s part of the sexual attraction. The media and fashion peeps were mistaken to think only scrawny-assed women and buffed guys were all that. Power to those who learned that beauty came in all forms and sizes and loved in all their ways and positions.
I wished I had known this earlier — that curvy was always in. Big boobs and ass are always sexy. And whatever my Asian mom and relatives told me growing up, to push me down was never what I needed to believe.
In a warped way, the elders probably thought that was a good learning experience. If we could take the verbal and psychological bullying from the people closest to us, we could take on anything and, one day, as they planned, rule the world.
Thinking back, catfish guy wasn’t the super dom he thought he was. In fact, he was ruled by his domme — she — the nipple clamping girl — she was the one pulling his balls.
“The quiet ones are the best,” he said proudly. “They look at you shyly and are the last to leave. They are the most perverted.”
“How do you meet these shy types?” I asked.
“Friends of friends and other social gatherings,” he said.
“And how do you ask her to join ur 3some fun?” I asked.
“It takes time and patience. I’m never in a hurry,” he replied.
“Ah…you like to play with your prey.”
“Yes. I make her want me. Get her wet. She has to tell me she wants to have sex with me first.”
“And how do you find one more girl? Do you pick two of your slaves and then do it?’
“No, no. They are usually friends.”
“Friends? Isn’t it harder?”
“Friends like each other, so the next step to having sex together is easier.”
“Interesting.” I wondered if it worked with men, too. I didn’t want gay action. Just like I’m not into women, I don’t expect my boys to like each other sexually. In fact, in the game of sex, power play was one of the highlights.
“You’re not sexually positive,” said H at one time. “You, of all people, should be open to all types of sex.”
“I choose what gets me off. I wanna hear their stories, but I don’t have to part of it.”
Catfish and I spent two more days chatting. I showed him my naughty Insta and told him more stories about the people I’d met. Sharing sex vids and talking about what type of sex I liked. He flirted with me a lot, and at some point, we were sexting. It was obvious he was trying to reel me in.
My ego said I shouldn’t. It’d be playing into his hand but I was curious and didn’t want to wait any longer. “Let’s meet.”
Now, this was a topic I was interested in. Be it male-male-female or female-male-female, the idea of having another added to the fun. However, I didn’t care for the female-male-female myself because a cougar didn’t share, and I was sure I wasn’t into girls. Still, all sex stories were welcomed, always.
“Ask me again if I like girls, and I’d ask you if you wanna be taken by a guy during sex. I’d punch her face.” This usually stopped the guys who were overly enthused about seeing their favorite Milf going at it with another girl.
“I like finding the girls and making them my slaves,” Catfish guy continued.
“You hunt them,” I grinned to myself. I could relate to this: the thrill of finding and securing someone new. The old me would frown upon this. The new Yuki mama loved it. He said he loved them curvy.
Objectification. It’s part of the sexual attraction. The media and fashion peeps were mistaken to think only scrawny-assed women and buffed guys were all that. Power to those who learned that beauty came in all forms and sizes and loved in all their ways and positions.
I wished I had known this earlier — that curvy was always in. Big boobs and ass are always sexy. And whatever my Asian mom and relatives told me growing up, to push me down was never what I needed to believe.
In a warped way, the elders probably thought that was a good learning experience. If we could take the verbal and psychological bullying from the people closest to us, we could take on anything and, one day, as they planned, rule the world.
Thinking back, catfish guy wasn’t the super dom he thought he was. In fact, he was ruled by his domme — she — the nipple clamping girl — she was the one pulling his balls.
“The quiet ones are the best,” he said proudly. “They look at you shyly and are the last to leave. They are the most perverted.”
“How do you meet these shy types?” I asked.
“Friends of friends and other social gatherings,” he said.
“And how do you ask her to join ur 3some fun?” I asked.
“It takes time and patience. I’m never in a hurry,” he replied.
“Ah…you like to play with your prey.”
“Yes. I make her want me. Get her wet. She has to tell me she wants to have sex with me first.”
“And how do you find one more girl? Do you pick two of your slaves and then do it?’
“No, no. They are usually friends.”
“Friends? Isn’t it harder?”
“Friends like each other, so the next step to having sex together is easier.”
“Interesting.” I wondered if it worked with men, too. I didn’t want gay action. Just like I’m not into women, I don’t expect my boys to like each other sexually. In fact, in the game of sex, power play was one of the highlights.
“You’re not sexually positive,” said H at one time. “You, of all people, should be open to all types of sex.”
“I choose what gets me off. I wanna hear their stories, but I don’t have to part of it.”
Catfish and I spent two more days chatting. I showed him my naughty Insta and told him more stories about the people I’d met. Sharing sex vids and talking about what type of sex I liked. He flirted with me a lot, and at some point, we were sexting. It was obvious he was trying to reel me in.
My ego said I shouldn’t. It’d be playing into his hand but I was curious and didn’t want to wait any longer. “Let’s meet.”
Next morning, H and a few of my online friends knew I was going to vid chat with Catfish. I wore my lingerie under my blue hoodie, planning to surprise him when we met online. We talked about plans to finish off where we stopped in our sexting.
I was nervous. Thinking he was a hot Korean guy I’d snagged. At our scheduled time, I called him on Insta. It rang a few times and then he hung my call.
“Hey,” I said. “Why did you hang up?”
“My room is a mess,” he said.
“So?” I replied. To be honest, he’d should have cleaned it up earlier. We knew we were planning to meet the day before. “Aren’t we gonna play?”
“Yes. Yes,” he replied.
I waited. Surfing the net and waited ten more minutes.
“So?” I DM him. “Are we?” Each minute that passed was a strike against him. My time was very precious. In my opinion, if I’d spared my minutes with someone, I hoped they would make the time for me too. And lessons learnt too many times, I was worth the wait and not vice versa.
Finally he called. I watched the window to his room appear. It seemed normal enough except it was missing the most important element.
“Hey! Where are you?” I peered into the screen to get a better look. “Aren’t you too old to be playing hide and seek?” I laughed.
“Woahhh…” he typed. “You are real.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I am.”
“You…you are so beautiful.”
“Why? You get catfish a lot?” I smiled. “So…” I waved. “Come out and show yourself and stop typing.”
At this point, even though I was being friendly, my heart was beating fast. The red bells were ringing in my head and I’d lost my interest in playing.
“Hello.” He finally spoke.
My heart dropped to the pits. Dark, dirty and dungeony. “Holy fuck.” That was what I thought but years of training to treat everyone equal held the reins.
“K?” I spoke again, this time all fun and laughter gone from my voice.
“Yeah,” he replied nervously. He still hasn’t shown himself but I’d already knew.
He was not a Hot Korean guy who had sex slaves. In fact. He wasn’t even East Asian.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I treat all people equal and have friends of many races. Girls or guys whatever, it doesn’t matter.
But, as I’d told many guys whom I chatted with, and I’d go into more details in my later chapters, I’m a sex racist.
Yes. Sex racist.
I don’t sleep with guys other than East Asian. Well, at least at this point when I’m writing this story to you, I haven’t found that one special guy to break the spell.
So. No. He wasn’t East Asian. More like South Asia as in from India. And like bees to honey, those guys in that region totally love me. I’m not joking. I’m being serious. Since I was young, it had always been the case and till now, in the dating apps, I get thousands of likes and many trying to get my attention.
“Wow. I really like you, Yuki,” he said.
My heart shriveled. I wanted to run. I wanted to yell at him for lying and for being an assholic cheat.
“Can you guess where I’m from?” he asked.
Dude, wasn’t it obvious? In my mind I’m praying with the slightest of chance that he’s a Korean who grew up in India and had that accent. But, of course who was I kidding.
“India, dude,” I said, my voice already sounding annoyed. “Why did you lie? And just show your face now. I’m showing mine in good faith.”
“I’m not lying. I’m role-playing.”
What-the-fuck. And I’m too fucking nice to not slam down the laptop and of all things, my conscience picked the moment to tell me I shouldn’t reject so awfully because that would make me a racist.
I’m a nice girl. Super nice. Naive to the world of the Internet. Prancing around happily flirting with guys and flashing my boobs and more to give them a rise. I liked doing that. Be that sexy, naughty Milf.
But not that day. I had to be that puritan, politically correct woman.
I won’t bother you with the details. So, I let that jerk explained his way out of his ass on why pretending and lying to all the girls that he was Korean and in his another life, he wished he was Korean, was okay.
Especially after what he told me that I shouldn’t talk to the cop. “The Internet is a dangerous place. He might not be a real police man or maybe he is. He can track you down,” Catfish said.
H said that too. About reverse image tracking. Now, that caught my attention more. H was my hubby and being in Tech, he knew what he was talking about. But, chatting with cop guy was too hard to resist.
However, in the case of Catfish giving me a lecture of getting online arrested if I should enter Korea because I messed with cop guy, that was a whole lot of Bullshit. In fact, as Catfish K was reciting his slave plans again, I got more disgusted with myself for falling for his stupid stories and lies.
“Okay, this is enough,” I said checking my clock. I gave him ten minutes. That should be enough to say I’m not a pure racist. “We are done.”
“What? No. Please, Yuki. You’re so beautiful. I want to be your friend. I want to play with you.”
“You gotta be kidding me, right,” I glared at the empty room. “You won’t even show yourself.”
“Okay, okay! I will!” He sounded desperate now. And just as he was or maybe was going to do it, I slammed my laptop down, and blocked him.
Who cared if he showed his real face? In fact seeing his face would make the memories worse. And he tried many times to follow me again, changing his Insta and what-not. That was one of the many reasons why I kept my account private. Not only was I protecting myself, I was also protecting the people who followed me.
Just the other day, he sent another message. It had been more than a year, and he wanted back into my naughty account. He asked if I remembered him.
Of course I do, Catfish K.
You’re the Indian guy who pretends to be a hot Korean guy with sex slaves — the loser we will all remember.