These Hands Remember

I’m a massage therapist. And my only clients are young women.

For every session, I wear compression leggings.

The look on their faces when they see the outline of my body is always the same. A flicker of shock, a blush of shyness, and then… the unmistakable spark of desire.

But the client today, her face was a mask of pure terror.

And in that moment, a wave of relief so profound it almost buckled my knees washed over me.

Because the one I’ve been waiting for, for three long years, had finally walked through my door.

1

My hands, slick with aromatic oil, moved with steady, powerful pressure across her pale, delicate skin.

The woman on the massage table let out a series of low, suppressed moans that filled the quiet room, but my expression remained a perfect blank.

When the session was over, I meticulously wiped the excess oil from her body.

Her face was flushed, her eyes darting constantly toward my lower body.

As she was leaving, she bit her lip and gave her phone a little shake in my direction.

"Want to add me? We could grab a drink tonight?"

I shook my head, declining.

Her gaze fell one last time, disappointed, to the front of my leggings before she turned and left.

I let out a long sigh and wrote a number in my notebook.

1000.

Then I scratched it out with a single, heavy line.

After carefully sanitizing the massage table, I dimmed the lights in the studio. I lit a stick of incense, the smoky scent of sandalwood curling into the air, and put on a playlist of melancholic classical music.

Then, I pressed the buzzer on the wall.

A soft chime echoed, and the door to the studio swung open.

The woman who entered made me catch my breath.

Long dark hair, a short skirt, exquisitely fine features, and skin so pale it seemed to glow in the dim light.

I gestured toward the massage table, indicating she should lie down.

But she didn't move. Her eyes were locked on my lower body, a tremor running through her entire frame.

Seeing that expression of raw terror on her face, I clenched my jaw, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it felt like it might stop.

Three years.

My one-thousand-and-first client.

The one I was looking for was finally here.

2

My name is Noah, and I’m a massage therapist.

If you want to book a session with me, you have to follow two rules.

First, I only work on women under the age of twenty-three.

Second, I must wear compression leggings during the massage.

When I first opened my studio, people assumed the worst. That the rules were just a pretext, a way for me to take advantage of my clients. People gossiped, saying my business would fail within a month.

But a month later, not only was my studio still open, business was booming.

Clients had to book a month in advance to get an appointment with me.

There were three reasons for this.

One, I am exceptionally good at what I do. I studied under a master therapist, but I also taught myself holistic medicine, combining ancient acupressure techniques with modern massage. I create my own proprietary blends of herbal-infused oils and aromatherapy sachets that not only rejuvenate the skin but can also soothe the chronic pain of old injuries.

Two, I am… gifted. The leggings leave little to the imagination, and my physique is an undeniable distraction. Once women look, they find it hard to look away. Some have even offered me obscene amounts of money to spend a night with them. I’ve refused every single one.

Three, I have a face that people tend to trust. I was born with fine features and fair skin. On top of that, I understand women. I know what they want to hear, what makes them feel seen. Almost every client becomes a repeat customer. They recommend me to their friends, creating a steady stream of new business.

When my story eventually made its way online, I became the object of envy for men everywhere. They were jealous that I could make good money while being in such intimate contact with beautiful young women.

But they have no idea. I have no interest in any of them.

I’m doing all of this to find one person.

And today, I finally found her.

3

Looking at the woman trembling with fear before me, I took a deep breath and managed a gentle smile.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly. "Are you not feeling well?"

She finally spoke, her voice shaking. "Could you… could you maybe change into some looser pants?"

I shook my head. "That's my rule. I can't change it."

She hesitated for a long moment before finally, with a look of grim determination, she slowly closed the door behind her.

"I heard your technique is incredible for old injuries," she said. "I have a lot of them. I'm counting on you."

I nodded and directed her to the changing room to put on the shorts and tank top I provided.

When she emerged, she followed my instructions and lay face down on the table.

I brought over a basin of steaming water, a fragrant herbal bath. I wrung out a towel that had been soaking in it and draped it over her back.

As I worked, I kept my voice calm and professional.

"First, we use a gentle heat to open up the pores and promote circulation. It makes the skin more receptive," I explained. "You have to prep the canvas before you can create the art. This will allow my work to be much more effective."

"I've also added some calming herbs to the water. You'll likely drift off for a little while," I continued. "When you wake up, your body will be in its most relaxed state. That's when the real massage begins."

Once the warm towels covered all of her exposed skin, she gradually closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

I looked down at the beautiful, vulnerable form on my table, and the corner of my mouth twitched into a small, cold smile.

4

When the woman woke up, I placed my phone on a tripod and started a livestream.

I’d built up a decent following by posting short videos explaining different massage techniques.

As soon as the stream went live, over a thousand people flooded in.

The chat immediately exploded.

WTF, is he really going live with a client like this?

Damn, that woman on the table is a work of art! That skin, those legs… I can’t look away!

Bro, you call that a massage? Let a real man show you how it’s done!

I smiled at the screen. "Hello, everyone, and welcome. The purpose of today's stream is to demonstrate a few techniques for all of you at home."

"Let's get right to it."

I placed my hands on her back and began to knead the muscles.

As I worked, I kept an eye on the chat.

God, I would kill to be that massage table right now.

Wait a second, you guys… does that woman look familiar to you?

OH MY GOD, THAT'S THE INFLUENCER ARIA!

HOLY SHIT, IT IS! I’m so jealous of this dude right now!

Even though I don't follow influencers, I’d heard of Aria. She had tens of millions of followers, earning tens of thousands of dollars in donations every time she went live.

I never imagined she would become a mega-influencer…

I had to bite down hard on my jaw to suppress the bitter jealousy that rose in my throat.

Aria’s body is insane. Better than most celebrities.

Never seen her from this angle before. This is a blessing.

Look closer, guys. Look at all those scars on her body.

Whoa, what the hell happened to her?

Faint, silvery scars crisscrossed Aria's skin, a dense network that looked almost like a monstrous tattoo.

Looking at them, memories I had locked away deep in my mind began to stir, to rise, to surface.

I froze for a moment, biting my lip until I tasted blood to bring myself back to the present.

I shook my head, trying to force the memories back down.

Pouring more oil onto my hands, I let my palms glide over her skin, which was now flushed pink from the heat. From her shoulders down to her ankles, until every inch of her was slick and gleaming.

I began to apply gentle pressure to her lower back and both of her knees.

With each press, she let out a sharp, stifled cry of pain.

I spoke, my tone casual. "You have significant chronic injuries in these three areas."

"Looks like they were caused by some kind of severe impact, right?"

When Aria nodded silently, I increased the pressure.

"For years, these injuries must have caused you unbearable pain every so often," I said. "I understand that kind of pain, because I have old injuries of my own."

"And when the pain comes, the memory of how you got the injury comes flooding back, doesn't it? Which only makes the suffering worse."

Aria's body went rigid. She said nothing.

I gave a faint smile. "Don't worry. I'm going to take very good care of you."

5

My touch became gentler, and Aria’s body slowly began to relax completely under my hands.

Feeling the give and take of muscle and skin beneath my fingertips, I glanced back at the screen.

"I imagine this is getting a little boring for some of you," I said to the camera. "So, why don't I tell you all a story? Something I did a long time ago that I regret to this very day."

"Even though it's been years, every time I think about it, I'm filled with remorse."

My fingers continued their dance across Aria's back as I began to speak.

"A lot of you probably envy my job. You think I get to look and touch beautiful women all day."

"But it's not like that at all."

"You see, I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria when I was young. My body is male, but my mind, my identity, has always been female."

"To put it simply, for those of you in the chat, I'm gay."

"So, no matter how beautiful a woman is, my body doesn't react. At all."

As I said this, I felt Aria's body give a distinct, sharp shudder.

In the chat, some people offered support, while others spammed homophobic slurs.

I smiled faintly, ignoring them.

"Growing up, I always got along better with girls," I continued. "I was part of their circle, we were incredibly close. Several of them became my best friends."

"The guys were all jealous. They'd mock me and call me names behind my back."

"I pretended it didn't bother me, but inside, it hurt. A lot."

"Because there were a few guys I had crushes on, but I had to bury those feelings deep down. I knew that if I ever let it show, I'd be treated like a freak, an outcast."

The chat went quiet. It seemed everyone was listening intently.

Thanks to Aria's fame, people were sharing the stream. The viewer count was climbing steadily.

I went on.

"My senior year of high school, I turned eighteen."

"The hormones of adolescence were like a volcano erupting inside me, melting away all my reason. I wanted to be in love like a normal person. I wanted someone I could confide in, someone whose arms I could fall into."

"And so… I made a decision that I will regret for the rest of my life."

6

As I spoke, Aria's body began to tremble more violently.

At the same time, I slowly increased the pressure of my hands.

"I downloaded a dating app and started pretending to be a woman online."

"I never played sports and didn't spend much time in the sun, so my skin was already fairer than most girls'. My bone structure is small, too. If you only saw my hands or my legs, you wouldn't guess I was a boy."

"So, I learned how to do my makeup. I bought a wig and a set of prosthetic breasts and put on a dress."

"With the help of some beauty filters, the person in the photos and videos I took was, for all intents and purposes, a beautiful woman."

"I posted them on my profile, and guys started messaging me immediately. I scrolled and scrolled, filtering through them, looking for my type."

The chat, which had been silent, came alive again.

What a fucking creep.

This is wild. First time I’ve ever heard a gay guy’s confession live.

Keep talking! What happened next?

The number of viewers kept rising, the stream's popularity soaring.

I moved to a new position and began working on Aria's calves.

Just as I was about to continue, a faint noise came from the storage cabinet in the corner of the room.

Aria lifted her head, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the cabinet.

I offered her a reassuring smile. "It's an old building, we have a bit of a mouse problem. I had an exterminator in, but it looks like one of them got away."

I stomped my foot hard on the floor, and the noise from the cabinet stopped.

I nodded, satisfied, and continued my story.

"Soon, I was talking constantly with one guy. He was exactly my type. We had the same taste in movies, music, books… we just clicked."

"He was seventeen years older than me, but I didn't care about the age gap. In fact, I was drawn to the mature, stable presence he had, so different from the awkward boys at my school."

"But as we got closer, a sense of dread started to build inside me. I knew my entire identity was a lie. No matter how beautiful I looked in my pictures, it didn't change the fact that I was a boy."

"And just as my anxiety reached its peak, the thing I feared most finally happened."

"He asked if we could meet in person."

7

I could feel the muscles in Aria's body tightening, all the previous relaxation gone.

The chat was in a heated debate.

LMAO, I can’t even imagine that guy’s reaction.

Guarantee you the storyteller got his ass kicked.

So disgusting. Deceitful gay men are the worst.

I wiped the oil from my hands, picked up a small massage roller, and began to slowly work it over the areas of Aria’s old injuries.

"Heh, anyone who's ever dated online knows that when you want to meet someone, the urge is impossible to resist," I said. "I imagined the meeting a thousand times. He would be disappointed, angry, furious at my deception…"

"He might even scream at me, or hit me."

"But in the end, I decided to go."

"I was tired of hiding behind a screen. I wanted to see him in real life."

"I prepared for that meeting for weeks. I practiced my voice and the way I walked, trying to seem more feminine. I got a full-body wax, bought the highest quality wig and prosthetics I could find. I would get fully dressed and made up and walk around outside for hours, until I was certain that no one could tell I was a boy."

"Finally, the day we had agreed to meet arrived."

"It was May twenty-fourth. A Sunday."

"There were fourteen days left until my final exams."

"That date… I don't think I will ever forget it for as long as I live."

As I said the date, fragmented memories flashed through my mind. My heart seized in my chest, and the roller almost slipped from my grasp.

Seeing me fall silent, the chat went wild.

???? What happened?? Tell us!

This dude isn’t a masseuse, he’s a storyteller. He knows how to leave a cliffhanger, damn.

Can you focus on the massage? Our Aria is in so much pain she’s gripping the sheets!

I glanced at Aria. The veins on the back of her hands were bulging as she gripped the white sheet.

But I knew the truth. I was barely applying any pressure at all.

8

"That day, I met the man I’d been dreaming of in a park."

"He was tall, and even more handsome than in his photos. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he hadn’t seen through my disguise. In fact, he seemed very pleased."

"For the first time in my life, a man held my hand."

"My heart was pounding so fast I could barely speak…"

At this point, the chat was in an uproar.

Ugh, that’s just sick.

Is it sick? I dunno, I’m kinda shipping this.

So what happened between you two??

I continued.

"The man's voice was gentle, he was well-spoken, and his clothes and cologne were expensive and refined. We sat on a bench in a quiet corner of the park, his arm around me, as he whispered sweet things in my ear."

"In that moment, I wished time would stand still."

"Eventually, he suggested we go back to his place. I wanted to spend more time with him, so I agreed. I got into his luxury car, and we drove to his villa in the suburbs."

"My family was working-class. Seeing his wealth only made me fall for him harder. Once we were inside the villa, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and started kissing me."

"It was my first kiss. The strange, new feeling was intoxicating."

"The next thing I knew, we were in his bedroom. And he had taken off all my clothes."

"He stared at my male anatomy and the prosthetic breasts. His expression turned terrifyingly dark."

"In that instant, it felt like I’d been plunged into ice water."

9

I cleared my throat.

The chat was now mostly filled with mockery.

Hahaha, if that was me, I would’ve beaten him half to death.

For real! So gross, anyone would lose their mind.

You play with people’s feelings, you deserve to get beat.

Wait, is it just me, or does the guy sound like the real problem here?

Yeah, a man in his thirties online dating an 18-year-old? That’s predatory.

Just as I was about to continue, Aria spoke.

Her voice was a thin, trembling whisper.

"Can you… please stop talking…?"

I ignored her and kept going.

"In that moment, my mind went completely blank. I didn't know what to say, what to do. Looking at the expression in his eyes, I knew it was over between us."

"Just as I was about to offer a sincere apology, he walked toward me."

"His face had changed. It was sinister, twisted, horrifying…"

"I was terrified. It hit me all at once that I was in a strange, isolated room with a powerful, unfamiliar man. Before I could even think about what to do, his hand flew out and he slapped me across the face."

"He used all his strength. I slammed against a wardrobe and crumpled to the floor. My face burned, and my head was ringing. Before I could even get the words 'I'm sorry' out, he kicked me hard in the stomach."

"The pain was so intense I nearly passed out. It felt like my insides were tearing apart. As I lay on the floor, gasping in agony, I saw that the wardrobe door had been knocked open when I hit it."

"And in that instant, all the physical pain seemed to vanish, replaced by a bottomless, soul-crushing terror."

"Do you want to guess what I saw inside that closet?"

10

Bang. The cabinet in my studio rattled again, much louder this time.

I stood up and started walking toward it.

Halfway there, the sound stopped.

The chat, meanwhile, was buzzing.

Okay, now things are getting interesting.

HOLY SHIT! He was just talking about a closet, and the one in his room made a noise? I’m getting scared…

I thought this was just a boring catfish story. It’s turning into a thriller.

Stop dragging it out, just tell us!

I took a deep breath, fighting to control the emotions churning inside me.

"The wardrobe had two levels, separated by a wooden shelf. From where I was on the floor, my line of sight was level with the bottom shelf."

"There were three enormous glass jars."

"And floating in a clear, colorless liquid were the severed heads of three young women."

"Three pairs of wide-open eyes were staring right at me."

"My heart stopped."

By now, a tidal wave of comments had completely flooded the screen.

WTF, is this story even real?

Obviously fake. He’s making it up for clicks.

Everyone report this loser, let’s get him banned.

Feeling Aria’s body grow even more rigid, I didn’t bother explaining myself to the viewers. I just continued the story.

"The intense fear jolted my memory. I remembered a news report from a few weeks earlier. Three high school girls had gone missing, one after another. They were still gone…"

"The man in front of me… he was their killer."

"Chatting with me online to lower my guard, meeting me in a secluded park, bringing me to his isolated villa… he had used the same tactics on the other three girls."

"Looking at the torture instruments gleaming on the top shelf of the closet, at the marks on the girls' heads, it wasn't hard to imagine the horrors they had endured. I couldn't even begin to imagine what this man, feeling deceived and enraged that I was a boy, would do to me."

"I struggled to sit up. I saw the man was now holding an axe, and he was walking slowly toward me."

Just then, one comment made me pause.

I remember this. Three years ago, in that ritzy suburban area between my city and the next one, something big happened. There were cops everywhere, but you can’t find anything about it online now. The story was suppressed.

What this streamer is saying… could it be real?

A wave of "Holy shit" and "WTF" comments scrolled by. I continued.

"In that moment, I couldn't see any way out. No way to survive. No matter how I fought, I was no match for a large man with a weapon. But the will to live, it’s a powerful thing. Staring into the abyss, I managed to claw out a path."

"And that path was…"

Before I could finish, Aria shot up from the massage table.

She scrambled to the floor and fell to her knees in front of me, slamming her forehead against the hardwood with a sickening thud. Again and again.

The skin on her forehead split open, and blood began to stain the floor.

She looked up, her face a twisted mask of blood and tears, her voice sharp and trembling.

"I'm begging you, please, don't say any more!"

11

In less than a minute, the pristine influencer had been reduced to this pathetic, broken state.

The livestream chat detonated.

"?????????"

"What the hell just happened to Aria?"

"This has to be staged, right? It's a script."

"I don't think so, that wound and the blood are real!"

"Aria definitely has some connection to this guy. Maybe she's a character in his story."

I crouched down, looking directly into Aria’s eyes, and gently helped her to her feet.

"You know that once a story has begun, it can't be stopped."

"Let's remember what happened that day, together."

Aria wrenched her hand from my grasp and scrambled for the door.

She twisted the handle frantically, but the door wouldn’t budge.

What is this guy trying to do?

From Aria's reaction, it seems like she doesn’t want him to finish the story.

Should we call the cops…?

I turned to the camera and held up my hands. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt her. If you want to call the police, you might as well hear the end of the story first."

The chat urged me to go on.

I smiled.

"The only way I could think of to survive was to offer the man a new target."

"As I said before, I had a lot of female friends. One of them, a girl named… let’s call her ‘Sarah.’ She and I were especially close. We told each other everything. We were like sisters."

"She was the only person I had ever told that I was gay."

"She was the only one who trusted me completely, without reservation."

"And she was the only one who would come to this secluded villa with just one phone call from me."

"So, as the man stood over me with the axe raised high, I played my only card."

"I said: 'Don't kill me. I can be your slave. I can find new prey for you. I can call a girl right now. She’s beautiful, tall… exactly your type.'"

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