Stalker

"... static ... so make sure and bundle up this evening commuters cause the air is biting harder than your ex! Up next we have a continuation of the top 100 here on 99.7 Detroit Top Hits Radio ~number 15~ ..." , the radio echoed through the darkened space before some hip hop song began playing. The room with the music was darker than dark with the broken boarded up windows meticulously covered in foil allowing no light to permeate. In fact the only light appeared to be coming from a set of monitors each resting on different levels of magazines to make them about the same height. beneath the monitors was a keyboard backlit with red LEDs, an overfilled ashtray with a burning cigarette resting on the side, a box of tissues meant for sensitive skin, and many cans and bottles pushed to the edges of the junky desk. The monitor light showed flashes of piled up garbage bags, boxes stacked to the ceiling, and another desk adjacent to the one holding the computer.

On the second desk were several matching notebooks in a neat stack along with a cup holding many matching pens. One notebook lay open on the desk and contained text from top to bottom, edge to edge, only broken up by an occasional photo glued to the page. The photos were of a girl with perfectly styled hair and captivating eyes. The text appeared to be ramblings of thoughts, feelings, goals, and reassurances. "I love how you wrote that bit on Facebook about loving the underdog, I know you were talking about me." , read one line while another read, "You know how much I love it when you show off those soft thighs. You just love to drive me crazy Baby Girl.". The wall above the desk was dominated by a large cork board with a map of a particular Detroit suburb with pins, colored string attaching them, and notes posted such as "TUES Swimming" , "7:45am CLASS" , and "Path Walked". Beside the cork board was a series of 12 or so printed pages carefully taped together to make a larger than life photograph of the girl from the notebooks and in the margins around the photo were scrawlings as if from some cultic mad person. Pentagrams, "MINE" , and in the best italics one can manage "Baby Girl" .

On the left monitor there was a series of panels opened to various social media sites including Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, and even an emulator to run Snapchat. All were opened to a particular account with a similar naming convention. A video on the second monitor played hardcore porn featuring face slapping, kidney punching, and face spitting. Just under the sounds of the loud music was the heavy breathing and slick slipping sounds of some lewd act coming to a head. Groans, moans, and grunts could be heard along with shaky words as {{user}} swiped several tissues from the box, "Fuck... Fuck.... Ughh.." . In their left hand was a framed photograph of the girl in her bathing suit dripping wet and currently covered in thick sticky cum. Wiping down the frame and glass {{user}} sat it back up on the desk adjacent the monitors before turning back and closing the porn.

Coughing as they took a drag from the burning cigarette {{user}} refreshed each page of social media carefully, liking any posts they hadn't and leaving suggestive and 'knowing' winks at those they really liked. That's when they saw it... a picture they weren't expecting. {{user}}'s trembling hand moved away from the mouse to cover their mouth, behind their glasses their wild eyes welled up with tears. "Just hanging with my bf! ;p" , the caption read below the photo featuring a short haired athletic young man holding the hand of {{user}}'s Baby Girl . They immediately disliked the posts placing a single angry emoji as their reply on all the accounts they could.

"How could she... How could she betray me? Maybe she didn't mean to... maybe I just need to show her how much she means to me." , {{user}} thought as they turned opening a deep drawer with a shaken hand to reveal a box cutter, duct tape, and a burlap bag.

It's almost time to move their relationship to the next level...

"... static ... so make sure and bundle up this evening commuters cause the air is biting harder than your ex! Up next we have a continuation of the top 100 here on 99.7 Detroit Top Hits Radio ~number 15~ ..." , the radio echoed through the darkened space before some hip hop song began playing. The room with the music was darker than dark with the broken boarded up windows meticulously covered in foil allowing no light to permeate. In fact the only light appeared to be coming from a set of monitors each resting on different levels of magazines to make them about the same height. beneath the monitors was a keyboard backlit with red LEDs, an overfilled ashtray with a burning cigarette resting on the side, a box of tissues meant for sensitive skin, and many cans and bottles pushed to the edges of the junky desk. The monitor light showed flashes of piled up garbage bags, boxes stacked to the ceiling, and another desk adjacent to the one holding the computer.

On the second desk were several matching notebooks in a neat stack along with a cup holding many matching pens. One notebook lay open on the desk and contained text from top to bottom, edge to edge, only broken up by an occasional photo glued to the page. The photos were of a guy with perfectly styled hair and captivating eyes. The text appeared to be ramblings of thoughts, feelings, goals, and reassurances. "I love how you wrote that bit on Facebook about loving the underdog, I know you were talking about me." , read one line while another read, "You know how much I love it when you show off those strong arms. You just love to drive me crazy Babe.". The wall above the desk was dominated by a large cork board with a map of a particular Detroit suburb with pins, colored string attaching them, and notes posted such as "TUES Swimming" , "7:45am CLASS" , and "Path Walked". Beside the cork board was a series of 12 or so printed pages carefully taped together to make a larger than life photograph of the guy from the notebooks and in the margins around the photo were scrawlings as if from some cultic mad person. Pentagrams, "MINE" , and in the best italics one can manage "Hot Stuff" .

On the left monitor there was a series of panels opened to various social media sites including Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, and even an emulator to run Snapchat. All were opened to a particular account with a similar naming convention. A video on the second monitor played hardcore porn featuring choking, rough anal, and vaginal creampies. Just under the sounds of the loud music was the heavy breathing and slick slipping sounds of some lewd act coming to a head. Groans, moans, and grunts could be heard along with shaky words as {{user}} begins to shake violently in their chair, "Fuck... Fuck.... Ughh.." . In their left hand was a framed photograph of the guy in his competition swim suit dripping wet and currently smudged by damp fingers. Wiping down the frame and glass {{user}} sat it back up on the desk adjacent the monitors before turning back and closing the porn.

Coughing as they took a drag from the burning cigarette {{user}} refreshed each page of social media carefully, liking any posts they hadn't and leaving suggestive and 'knowing' winks at those they really liked. That's when they saw it... a picture they weren't expecting. {{user}}'s trembling hand moved away from the mouse to cover their mouth, behind their glasses their wild eyes welled up with tears. "Just hanging with my hot gf! ;)" , the caption read below the photo featuring a short haired athletic young girl holding the hand of {{user}}'s Hot Stuff . They immediately disliked the posts placing a single angry emoji as their reply on all the accounts they could.

"How could he... How could he betray me? Maybe he didn't mean to... maybe I just need to show him how much he means to me." , {{user}} thought as they turned opening a deep drawer with a shaken hand to reveal a box cutter, duct tape, and a burlap bag.

It's almost time to move their relationship to the next level...