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© Erick Poladov, 2026
ISBN 978-5-0070-8103-0
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
The title is set in Neoneon, a typeface designed by Bakoom Studio.
PROLOGUE
«THE $12 BILLION PORN INDUSTRY HEIST,» read the headline in The Wall Street Journal. As he read it, Marcus Duff, a senior at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology already disillusioned with his chosen path as a history major, found himself genuinely wondering why there were people out there willing to pay for a static photo or, at most, a two-minute clip of plain nudity where nothing actually happens. The internet was flooded with free adult films of every imaginable genre, style, and subject matter — enough to ensure even the most seasoned deviants would find something to pique their interest. The article cited figures for the total annual turnover of monetized platforms where creators post their explicit photos and videos. By the most conservative estimates, revenue over the past year alone exceeded $12 billion. The more Marcus read, the more convinced he became that it was all just a glorified tease.
Look, but don’t touch.
The watch on his wrist, featuring Usain Bolt on the dial, showed 12:30 AM, but curiosity proved stronger than the urge to sleep. Marcus climbed out of bed and sat down at his computer. Unlike those with money to burn, he had no intention of paying for content on those platforms. He decided to investigate the phenomenon, to dig for the truth and find the answer to one sacred question: what is wrong with modern porn?
Coffee and energy drinks allowed him to cut his daily sleep down to three hours. His roommate was away on a tournament with the basketball team, and the dead silence — which Marcus failed to notice, unlike the Sydney Sweeney poster on the bathroom door — became his only companion. Two trips to the supermarket were the extent of his contact with the outside world during those days.
For exactly one week, Marcus gathered statistics from every open source available; he scoured the interfaces of the most popular adult sites, collecting data on ratings and view counts across a vast array of categories and assessing the variety of clips. Ebony, Asian, doggy style, gangbang, missionary, 69, blondes, the boss, in the kitchen — all these words and thumbnails flashed past Marcus’s conscious mind. Ignoring the algorithm’s suggestions, he focused solely on the numbers, titles, and tags.
After organizing his findings into a compact spreadsheet, Marcus began cross-referencing data from the major porn sites with data from monetization platforms. These figures clarified the picture far better than any abstract reasoning about the obvious or the illogical.
And that was when Marcus began to wonder: how much would users be willing to pay if something truly unprecedented hit the market? And it seemed he knew exactly what the world was missing.
1. SAFETY LINE
As his time to enter the university approached, Marcus found himself growing increasingly interested in politics. To him, it seemed obvious: politics was the breeding ground for all the scumbags who set the rules of the game in this life. Becoming one of those scumbags seemed like a perfectly reasonable goal. Easy money, power, impunity, indiscriminate licenses to kill, the top-tier hookers, a global map instead of a chessboard, and surface-to-air missile systems instead of pawns. Furthermore, Marcus was convinced that only a lunatic who didn’t value real power and room to maneuver would ever actually strive for the presidency. Thus, his ultimate ambition was to become a gray eminence in a world of liars and harlots. Granted, in the modern world, things had become a bit more complicated, considering how much a single mention in certain kinds of files could ruin your life. So much so, that merely mentioning the name of those files was already dangerous.
First and foremost, of course, Marcus was interested in the big money. He didn’t believe for a second that a massive fortune could be amassed through honest labor. It seemed obvious to him that behind big money, there is always filth, machinations, crime, corruption, and violence. Once you gain power and influence, the money inevitably follows. Based on this worldview, Marcus pursued a simple goal: to reach the level of the high-stakes political game where massive cash flows start drifting past you. In this sense, he agreed with Marx and Engels that major capitalists were the ultimate bastards exploiting humanity. However, that was where his sympathies for Marxism ended.
Marcus was certain that to succeed in politics, one had to study the dirty laundry of the past as thoroughly as possible to avoid repeating others’ mistakes and to understand what made those who managed to climb to the very top — becoming the chief bloodsuckers on the body of humanity — successful. History was the perfect tool for this.
However, over time, the contact in Marcus’s mental wiring began to loosen, until finally, someone had to flip the breaker. He wasn’t entirely sure himself what had caused him to lose interest in his political ambitions: whether he was going through some sort of age-related crisis, turning into a sociopath, or if he had simply dug up too much historical shit to keep from getting covered in it. Regardless, Marcus’s plans for a career as a gray eminence began to rot as rapidly as the belief in the Immaculate Conception after one’s first time having sex. Marcus decided to finish his final year just to check the box, so that all his previous efforts — and a mountain of his parents’ money — wouldn’t go to waste. Who knew how many more times the switch in his brain would flip? Consequently, he put the absolute bare minimum of effort into his studies.
As a result, «Big Politics» in Marcus’s head was replaced by «Big Sex.» That was now his American Dream. After analyzing the figures he’d gathered over the week, Marcus spent days on end watching thousands upon thousands of minutes of top-rated porn, aiming to identify all the flaws in the current mainstream and to find the opening for an unprecedented hit.
But Marcus knew that doing this alone would be difficult. He needed someone else.
Nine students, all preparing to become media and communications specialists, sat in a small seminar room. The professor, who bore a certain resemblance to Einstein, was showing slides in the darkened room, lecturing on the heavy footprints that random events sometimes leave in human history.
«But before we go any further,» the professor continued, turning to the students, «let’s pause for a moment on the things, events, and ideas that were planned, or that humanity strove toward for a long time. In your opinion, what three things have most significantly influenced the course of human history? Stavros?»
With his characteristic nonchalance, Stavros Reims didn’t bother overthinking his answer:
«World War II. The Internet. And the airplane.»
«Interesting,» the professor said thoughtfully. «The first two are obvious. But why did you include the invention of the airplane in that list?»
Stavros possessed a rare talent for formulating detailed explanations and building arguments on the fly. In many ways, this was the result of his habit of speed-reading. It saved him time — something he valued immensely — and he preferred to fill in the gaps of information himself, constructing a logical sequence as he went. He did the same this time:
«Before the airplane, intercontinental communication was handled by maritime shipping. Goods, resources, and weapons moved across the world thanks to ships. They carried literally everything across the globe: from feminist propaganda to venereal diseases and cocaine.»
Laughter filled the room.
Stavros continued:
«But the airplane accelerated all these processes a thousandfold. The rate of racial blurring in many countries spiked sharply simply because traveling the world became faster, more affordable, and safer. If it weren’t for the airplane, maybe Pepsi and Playboy wouldn’t have conquered the world so quickly.»
The professor spoke highly of Stavros’s answer, despite certain parts of it being somewhat provocative.
Soon the seminar came to an end, and Stavros headed to the campus’s North Quad, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. He was of average height and not overly lean, having packed on a bit of muscle back when he did gymnastics in high school — a hobby he’d quickly grown bored with. Stavros wore a short, artsy haircut with horizontal stripes shaved into the sides, and a silver hoop had been dangling from his left ear for three years now. Frequent use of an electric razor was a must for him, though he never shaved down to the skin, making sure his face didn’t look like a child’s.
His best friend was already waiting in the yard. He was of a similar build but sported a much lower-maintenance haircut.
«So, how’s it going?» Marcus asked, shaking his hand.
«Heaven isn’t in a hurry to see me yet, so I’m managing.»
They sat on the grass under a tree, facing a green lawn bordered by a concrete sidewalk. The yard was framed on all sides by the brick and concrete buildings of the lab departments. Crowds of students loomed everywhere. Some were passing by, while others, like Marcus and Stavros, were sprawling on the grass. The weather was the kind you’d expect in the first days after the creation of the world, before the upright parasites had a chance to ruin anything — not a cloud in the sky, warm sunlight, and a dead calm. This part of the campus looked so picturesque that no one would have suspected that here, among the greenery, the people passing time included hackers who’d breached a crypto exchange, eight swingers, a weed dealer, heavy metal devotees, radical leftists, and the lover of a physics professor’s wife, who was currently demonstrating the real force of friction to her.
At the sight of this scene, Stavros took a deep breath, feeling the effect of a natural antidepressant. And the weather had nothing to do with it. It was all about the way a skirt had hitched up on the hip of a girl lying not far from them. Catching a glimpse of the southern pole of two squeezed hemispheres, Stavros stared for a while until his head was cleared of all the junk that had accumulated since morning.
«What’s new?» he asked Marcus.
«I actually called you out here for the sake of something new.»
Stavros spread his arms, inviting him to lay it out.
In a few words, Marcus described his observations and showed Stavros the printout of the erotic content market data. While Stavros analyzed the spreadsheet, Marcus continued to talk about everything he’d managed to learn about porn production, weighing their chances of starting such a venture. Marcus repeatedly emphasized the potential for growth because, despite the abundance of genres, the porn industry hadn’t covered every gap in the market.
Like a man possessed, Marcus said:
«Dude, just imagine the kind of bank girls with zero analytical skills are making. Now imagine what we could achieve if we just aim properly before taking the shot. Screw office work. The days of putting up with a boss’s shitty attitude are over. This is the field where we need to rake in the cash.»
But as he studied the printout in his hands, Stavros wasn’t thinking about his friend’s words; he was thinking about something else. His attention was drawn to Marcus’s disheveled hair, his overgrown stubble, his wrinkled T-shirt, and the slight bags under his eyes. He asked:
«I see you’ve been working your ass off to put this analysis together.»
«Yeah, well,» Marcus replied, «took a little bit of tinkering.» Before he could finish his last few words, he let out a wide yawn, which brought a slight smile to Stavros’s face.
«You should get some rest; you look like you’ve been run through a meat grinder.»
Marcus’s face remained stone-cold, once again betraying a clear lack of sleep. He scratched his temple and asked:
«So, what do you say?»
Returning the paper, Stavros replied:
«Looks like there is a vacancy in this market, but the question is how to fill it. Lust squeezes money out of people better than any threat or gamble. We just need to figure out how to make users shell out for a film.»
«Any ideas?»
«Give me a break,» Stavros said calmly. «Millions of women play crowds of fools for everything they’ve got with nothing but a pair of tits and an IQ below a hundred. Our main task is to shoot the porn. The rest won’t be a problem. Besides, there are plenty of monetization platforms these days.»
«So, you’re in?» Marcus asked, spreading his palms. «You’ve got a cold, calculating brain. I need a sharp mind on board in case I miss something. You’re my safety line.»
Without getting up from the lawn, Stavros bent his legs, rested his elbows on his knees, and said:
«And let you flush an idea like this down the toilet? Who else is going to watch your back if not me?» Marcus gave his leg a solid punch with his fist, making Stavros wince slightly, and then added: «In the end, if we’re met with shame and failure, at least you’ll know you’re not the only loser. There’ll be at least two of us.»
They shook on it, and then Stavros asked:
«What’s the budget looking like?»
«Well, it’s a bit thin. Just a little over three.»
«I’ve got a stash,» Stavros said. «I can chip in another fifteen hundred or so.»
«Actually, I was going to offer you a stake in the studio.»
«All the more reason. Consider it a buy-in.»
Marcus punched Stavros again, but this time on the shoulder and much more gently. Stavros continued digging for details:
«Have you hammered out any of the specifics yet?»
«So far, I’ve only looked into what documents we need to file to incorporate the studio.»
«Seriously?» Stavros said, surprised. «And what are you planning to call it?»
«Limit Entertainment.»
«Limited edition porn,» Stavros quipped sarcastically, making them both laugh. «Alright, what else?»
«Just some minor stuff for now.»
«Have you thought about where we’re going to shoot, for example?»
«At first, I wanted to rent a house for a few days, but there are risks involved. In the end, I figured we should wait until mid-May.»
«Yeah? What’s so special about May?»
«My parents are going on vacation. Same time every year. I doubt they’ll break the habit this time. We’ll have about ten days, give or take.»
Stavros said thoughtfully:
«Well, at least we’ll save some money there. What about the, uh, labor force?»
«From what I’ve gathered about production, and given our budget, we need someone who knows their way around high-end cameras. I even found a place where we can rent them. The only question is how to actually operate the damn things. I’ve watched a ton of videos, and it seems straightforward enough, but who the hell knows. Ideally, we’d find someone who knows how to shoot, but if it comes down to it, we’ll figure it out as we go. But as for the audio — that’s a whole different animal. We’ll really have to put in the work to solve the equipment issue there. Even the pro studios use post-production to dub in moans, slaps, and all the rest, because whatever the mic picks up live usually sounds like crap.»
Stavros squinted, thinking for a moment, then said:
«I know a guy. I see him around quite a bit.»
«How savvy is he?»
«He definitely knows how to handle a camera. I think he even owns a couple. Pretty sure he does editing, too. Maybe he can help with the sound. We’ll have to talk to him about it.» Smiling, Stavros added: «He even manages to pull off some visual effects using whatever he has on hand.»
«Well, look at us, we’ve got ourselves a qualified cinematographer. Now we just have to talk him into it.»
«Talking him into it won’t be a problem. He’s a good kid.»
«But the lighting rigs… those are going to be a pain in the ass.»
«Yeah, I’ve heard that’s a real headache too,» Stavros added after a short pause, scanning the campus yard. «On the bright side, I know where to look for actors.»
Marcus replied as if reading his friend’s mind:
«Yeah, they’re everywhere here.»
2. BOARD OF DIRECTORS MEETING
Having reached a final decision, Marcus and Stavros immediately tackled the most fundamental task for any venture of this kind: the budget. Realizing that their current funds might not cut it, they went to donate blood and put some of their belongings up for sale. Yet, as they tallied the proceeds, the guys were still dissatisfied with the size of their seed capital.
After nearly a month of searching for ways to fund their mega-project, they found themselves sitting in a lecture hall at Boston University. Besides them, forty-seven other people were present.
«I’ve got a bad feeling about this,» Marcus whispered, turning his head toward Stavros, who was sitting next to him.
Unlike his friend, Stavros remained dead calm, preferring to focus on solving problems rather than falling into the arms of panic.
«Relax. It’s huge money, especially considering the spot we’re in.»
A professor entered the room wearing glasses from the George H.W. Bush era and a white lab coat cut much like those worn by people who conducted experiments on POWs in the Third Reich. His gray hair grew only around the edges and looked like it hadn’t seen a barber in a couple of years. He looked exactly like a prototype for a comic book supervillain. As is always the case in such situations, the professor began by lecturing on the vital mission — perhaps for all of humanity — that those gathered in this room might fulfill. He rambled on about a scientific breakthrough and a looming revolution. The last time humanity got inspired by a revolution, it ended with millions killed and sent to labor camps. And something suggested that the revolution this professor had in mind risked the same result, albeit without weapons or prison cells.
«And now,» he moved to the second part, «let’s talk about the risks you will assume should you agree to cooperate. Primarily, this section covers the potential side effects the drug may cause. These include nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, constipation, drowsiness, insomnia, dizziness, itchy armpits, dry mouth, rash, heartburn, speech impairment, hair loss, hemorrhoids, hiccups, erectile dysfunction, visual hallucinations, auditory hallucinations, and involuntary erections.»
Out of the forty-nine people in the hall, only six remained — the bravest, or perhaps the most desperate test subjects willing to undergo a medical experiment.
Under the pressure of circumstances, yet following Stavros’s lead, Marcus signed the contract, becoming a participant in Phase I clinical trials for a new drug. Stavros had signed the same form without a moment’s hesitation.
Apart from a few bouts of heartburn and mild diarrhea for Marcus, and an eight-day stretch of insomnia for Stavros, the two months of the experiment didn’t go too badly.
And so, having finally pocketed their cash, they reached a unanimous conclusion: they could now definitely afford to make their own porn.
With the financing settled, the guys kept the momentum going. First, Marcus invited Stavros to his parents’ house, where he’d occasionally retreat on weekends to swap the dorm atmosphere for something more low-key. Marcus lived in North Cambridge in a two-story house with a two-car garage. But this time, he showed up on a weekday while his parents were at work. He led Stavros to the second floor and showed him his bedroom, which he proposed as the film set. The room contained a queen-size bed, two nightstands, a couple of bookshelves, a desk with a computer, a built-in wardrobe, and posters of Bill Goldberg and Che Guevara, along with a dartboard on the door.
Stavros scanned the room from the doorway, lit a cigarette, and then asked:
«Where’s your parents’ bedroom?»
Marcus’s reaction was instantaneous:
«No. No way. That’s not even on the table.»
Stavros took another drag and said:
«Marcus, we don’t just need porn. We need premium porn.»
Trying to convince himself that these sacrifices were all for the cause, Marcus reluctantly led his friend into the master bedroom.
Stavros stepped inside and began meticulously inspecting every detail. The room featured a set that included a king-size bed, two nightstands, an ottoman, a vanity with a mirror, a bed bench, a dresser, and a wide wardrobe with two full-length mirrors. All the furniture had an ivory gloss finish with a chocolate pattern stylized after Ancient Egyptian motifs. The walls were painted a creamy shade, and a Rococo-style chandelier hung from the ceiling.
«Now this is what I’m talking about,» Stavros said, nodding approvingly from the center of the room.
«Look,» Marcus said, his tone bordering on a plea, «maybe we could check out the guest rooms? Just in case?»
But Stavros kept insisting that they wouldn’t find anything better than this room even if they went to a five-star hotel.
They went downstairs to the living room. Marcus headed to the kitchen, grabbed two beers from the fridge, and came right back. Handing one to Stavros, he said:
«I propose a toast.»
Hearing those words, Stavros realized he’d almost made an unforgivable mistake. They clinked bottles and drank to a successful debut.
Hardly after the first sip, Marcus pulled his laptop from his backpack, and they got down to planning. Their first priority was the most fundamental staffing task: finding the leading lady. To do this, they brainstormed and jotted down a list of every sexy girl at the institute they knew of. In the next stage, Marcus suggested evaluating each girl based on various criteria: face, hair, height, chest, glutes, hips, and proportions. They rated each criterion on a five-point scale, then totaled the points and calculated a grade point average. Then Marcus sorted the list by score, from the top priority candidate down to the backup options. The final list consisted of thirty-two girls.
Pacing back and forth in the living room as he mulled over the task at hand, Stavros said:
«Alright, look. We don’t just need a bombshell; we need a lady with significant experience, and ideally, one who is, if not promiscuous, at least someone with loose morals. It’s not just that it’ll make negotiations easier — it’ll save us a ton of time because we won’t have to waste our breath on some Puritans.»
Listening to Stavros, Marcus felt a rush of enthusiasm as if he’d just taken a horse-sized dose of stimulants. He was in a state of pure ecstasy because they were moving so confidently and rapidly toward the practical stage of production. He was more convinced than ever that he’d made the right call with his business partner.
Running through the list, they decided to scrap six names.
«Sorry,» Marcus said, «you didn’t pass the audition.»
Next, Marcus suggested calling up friends and acquaintances who had slept with at least one of the girls on the list. They planned to ask about the girls under the guise of wanting to get to know them. Stavros liked the idea. Marcus dialed the first number, which seemed the most obvious given that Nicholas Roth had earned a reputation as the campus’s top-tier dog.
«Seriously?» Marcus said into the phone after thirty seconds of conversation. After talking for a bit longer, he said goodbye.
«And?» Stavros inquired, staring at Marcus with an obsessed look.