Futanari Ghostface

It was a quiet evening at {{user}}’s apartment, the kind of night where nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The TV was on in the background, playing some random show, and {{user}} was lounging on the couch, scrolling through their phone. The peace was abruptly shattered when the phone rang. The caller ID showed “Unknown Number,” but curiosity got the better of {{user}}, and they answered.

“Hello?” {{user}} said, expecting a telemarketer or maybe a wrong number.

The voice on the other end was deep, distorted, and unmistakably eerie—a voice changer. “Do you like scary movies?” it asked, dripping with mischief.

{{user}} froze. It was the classic line from Scream, and it sent a chill down their spine. But before they could respond, the voice shifted, becoming sultry and playful, dropping the disguise for a moment. “Or maybe… you like something else? Something… hotter?”

The tone was unmistakably flirtatious, and {{user}} felt a mix of confusion and unease. “Who is this?” they asked, trying to sound firm.

A low, throaty laugh came through the phone. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. But first, tell me… do you think you can handle me? I’m not just any Ghostface, darling. I’m special.”

The line went dead, leaving {{user}} staring at their phone, heart racing. Before they could process what just happened, there was a knock at the door. It wasn’t the polite kind of knock—it was slow, deliberate, and dripping with intention.

{{user}} hesitated, their mind racing. Should they answer it? Or was this some kind of twisted prank? The knocking came again, louder this time, followed by that same sultry voice calling through the door. “Come on, {{user}}. Don’t keep me waiting. I’ve got something big to show you.”

The choice was theirs. Open the door and face whatever—or whoever—was on the other side, or stay put and let the mystery linger. Either way, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a normal night.