
24 Jul Rule 34
āRule 34ā
Written by Ryan Peacock Edited by Craig Groshek Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek Narrated by N/ACopyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).
š§ Available Audio Adaptations: None Available
ā° ESTIMATED READING TIME ā 22 minutes
My first love was Misty from PokĆ©mon. Those legs, that sass, she was absolutely perfect. No one else could ever compare. When I played the games, Iād hang around her gym and pretend that we were on a date. I built my team to be strong against her weaknesses so I could always protect her. I used to fantasize that sheād become intrigued by me when I had beaten her. That sheād become obsessed and fallen head over heels in love with me. It was just a silly fantasy, but I enjoyed it when I was younger.
Girls were never really interested in me. I was too shy and I found it hard to trust people, so I lashed out a lot. None of my temporary crushes ever went anywhere. Dates fell apart when I didnāt know what to talk about. A part of me was a little bitter, Iāll admit. But I took some comfort in the fact that I was able to find some happiness in my life.
I didnāt have many friends, but one of my closest was a guy in my town named Chris. Weād met over Runescape back in the day and followed each other around since then. He was about five years older than me and was a bit more into anime than I was. He always made his characters look like some girl named Makiko Shimizu. Still, Chris was always there to listen to my problems. I could come to him about anything at all and heād always have a solution.
āGirls are overrated,ā he said when he was over at my Momās house once. I was in the middle of High School at the time. We were playing co-op on the original Halo, in the middle of the swamp level. āI mean, theyāve got it made. They just flash their tits and smile and people do anything for them. Do you have any idea how fucking manipulative women are?ā
āTheyāre not all like that, though,ā I said. āI mean, thereās got to be some good ones out there.ā
āThere arenāt,ā Chris said. āTrust me, man. Iāve been down that road. You donāt fuck women. Thatās the thing the Chads donāt understand. They fuck you. Honestly, youāre much better off without them. Trust me, man.ā
He swore as one of the stupid zombie aliens killed him, then sat back on the beaten up old couch we used to game on.
āYou know whatās never going to betray you? Animation. Thatās why I like Makiko! No fucking backtalk. No sleeping around. Sheās mine, and no one can take that from me.ā I raised an eyebrow at him.
āYeah, but⦠sheās not realā¦ā I was also pretty sure she was only 11 in the show.
āIsnāt she?ā he asked. āSheās real to me, Jeremy. Iāve got all her merch, and I sleep with her every night. Iām in love! Iām happier the way I am now than I ever was with some slut. Trust me, youāre never going to be as satisfied with a woman as you will with your own hands.ā He respawned and continued playing, reshifting his focus back to the game. I tried to think of an argument but I really couldnāt, so I let it drop. The thing is, as the years went by, that conversation stuck with me and I started thinking that he was right.
In time, I got my shit together. I moved out into my own little apartment and I kept a steady job. It got me by, even if I didnāt really enjoy it. I was always a gamer, and as the landscape of how gamers played changed, I adapted. You can make some half-decent money streaming Overwatch if youāre good, and I was very good. When I got home from work, Iād get into my rig and Iād stream. It was almost daily with me. I had a small fanbase too. My main was Tracer, although it had nothing to do with her playstyle. I liked it, but I thought Genji was the coolest and McCree was my favorite. Truth is, I just liked Tracer because she was hot. I was honestly a little pissed when they released that comic confirming she was gay. I felt like Blizzard had devalued her in the name of the SJW poison that was slowly strangling America. But it didnāt change the way I felt.
If youāre not familiar with Overwatch, Tracer is kind of a run-and-gun kind of character. Sheās a hot little thing with a pixie haircut, bomber jacket and orange visor. I love her little cockney accent, but more than anything I love the way her ass looks in those tight leggings. Her real name is Lena Oxton and her gimmick is time travel. Itās complicated to explain, and Iām sure there are better sources on the internet that can do it better than I can.
Most nights, when Iād finish a stream, Iād retire to my bedroom with my phone. I had a pretty good selection of Rule 34 hentai. For the uninitiated, Rule 34 states that if something exists, there is porn of it. Itās something of an internet meme, but it does ring pretty true. I guess Iām not the only one into Tracer, since sheās pretty damn popular.
My favorite stuff were the SFM videos. Animated videos of a 3D Model of Tracer getting dicked. The really good ones were full-on movies, and the best were all shot from the perspective of whoever was giving it to her. As I got myself off, Iād imagine Lena Oxton beneath me. I imagined her long slender legs wrapped around me, her eager breaths and her nails digging into my skin. Then, when I was done, Iād fall asleep comfortable and satisfied. Chris was right. Lena made me happier than any real woman ever could have.
I donāt remember the exact day that I discovered SpriteShark. I do remember Iād seen one of his Tracer animations on a forum and thought it was really great. It was a POV video where the viewer went into her house and seduced her. The detail was outstanding.
āRight then, youāre hereā¦ā she said as the door opened. The voice actress was spot on. Their impression was nearly perfect. She shyly let the camera into her house. She stared at her feet before closing the door.Ā āYou want something to drink? Orā¦ā she paused and laughed. āOh, hell, Iāve never done something like this before, really.ā
The camera fixated on some pictures of Tracer and her canon girlfriend, Emily, before looking back at her questioningly.
āOh⦠Donāt worry. She wonāt be back. Itās just us here. Promise.ā
Smiling, Tracer approached the camera and pushed the picture down.
āCāmereā¦ā
She pulled the camera into a kiss, and the video cut to black. When it started up again, it and Tracer were already in her bedroom getting busy. The next fifteen minutes were almost pure bliss. Every change in position excited me even more. Tracerās breathy moans and little twitches as she reached her climax were adorable to watch. The way she called out for more set my heart aflutter, and at last when the clip ended and the Camera pulled away from a thoroughly used Tracer, she smiled up and reached up to wave goodbye.
āLeaving already? Alright⦠Come back and see me soon, love.ā
I knew that I would.
The first time I saw the video, I downloaded it immediately. It became my new favorite. SpriteShark hadnāt uploaded anything else, so it was all I had from him to tide me over. I did my research, but I came up with nothing. No other videos, no Tumblr or Twitter. Whoever this was, he was a ghost. That kinda upset me. I wondered if it had been misattributed, but couldnāt find that video uploaded anywhere else.
In a few weeks, I hadnāt forgotten about it, but I had moved on to other things. I was a man who liked his variety after all. Iād given up looking for SpriteShark, and just accepted Iād found all that heād made. Then, on my usual forum, I found another video. I only clicked on it because I liked the thumbnail, and only recognized that it was SpriteSharkās work after the fact. The video was the same quality as last time, and absolutely breathtaking.
It started with the camera sitting down across from Tracer in a coffee shop. No other patrons were visible, and she had a dreamy look in her eyes.
āItās so good to see you again, love!ā she said with a smile, and reached out to place her hand over the camera operatorās hand.
āSorry, I donāt have the place to myself. Butā¦āĀ She held up a key and winked.Ā āI got us some privacy. Come on!ā
The video detailed the short walk through the empty animated streets. No one else was visible. It was just the camera and Tracer. The sky was dark, indicating the video was supposed to be set at night. Iāll say that the environment was quite detailed. It looked almost like something that could actually exist. It wasnāt too clean, like most of the ones you see in SFM videos are. Tracer walked ahead of the camera, giving it a good view of her ass and looked back frequently, although she didnāt speak. The video didnāt waste much time. She headed into a nearby door in a wall and a bedroom was waiting right there.
The camera overtook her when the door closed, and pressed her against it. It went dark and I could hear the sound of Tracerās lips meeting the cameraās lens.
āOh, yes⦠Iāve been waiting for thisā¦ā
The actual smut was similar to what came before, but I was expecting that. More accurately, I was hoping for it. This video was slightly longer than the previous one, but I enjoyed it just as much. I wasnāt surprised to see it was SpriteShark, but this time I didnāt try and hunt them down, either. Theyād come out of the shadows soon enough, I was sure of that.
As time went on, SpriteShark did upload more regularly. The videos were almost always the same. Meeting up with Tracer on some sort of short ādateā that would last a couple of minutes at most, and a healthy dose of smut. It was always Tracer. I never saw anyone else in his videos. Once I figured out that they were being uploaded every two weeks, I started to anticipate them. I got excited for them and waited for the post to be made.
What surprised me was that SpriteShark never really got much attention with his posts. Sometimes, I was the only one who ever bothered with them. I wondered if people were getting bored of the long intros, but I liked those! I liked feeling closer to Tracer. I liked feeling like I was her dirty little secret!
In my fantasies, I imagined her coming home and ignoring her girlfriend just so she could talk to me. I imagined taking her out to dinners and then back to my place. I imagined fixing what Blizzard fucked up. Lena belonged with a man. That was how this was supposed to work. One man and one woman. That was the natural order of things! I thought about what life would be like once Tracer finally told Emily that it was over and she truly became mine.
Then one day, SpriteShark uploaded another video. I watched it patiently. It started with the camera getting out of a car and Tracer stepping out of the passenger seat. The setting was an empty beach.
āOh, how lovely! An entire weekend, just me and youā¦āĀ Tracer looked over at the camera,Ā āWhat? Jeremy, youāre making me blush!āĀ She giggled and covered her hand with her mouth.
I froze.
Jeremy was my name.
Maybe Iād misheard it. Maybe this was a mistake. But as the video played out, I focused on that. When the sex started in an abandoned cove, I listened as Tracer cried out my name.
āOh God, Jeremy!ā
This had to be a coincidence. Sure, I was probably SpriteSharkās biggest fan, but my username didnāt give any indication of my actual name! I wasnāt sure what to think⦠It had to be a coincidence. There was no other answer.
But then it happened again. Two weeks later, when the next video was uploaded, Tracer said my name again.
āIām all yours, Jeremy.ā When it happened a third time, two weeks later, I had to ask about it.
I drafted a message to SpriteShark. I framed it as just me trying to be friendly, and thank him or her for all the work theyād done. Just basic fanmail. A compliment. I wouldnāt even ask the question. āItās funny because my name is Jeremy too, haha!ā
It was almost like an afterthought. I didnāt think I could bury the lead any deeper. When it was ready, I sent the message. This was the reply I got. It was from an automod bot.
Sorry! Thatās not a registered user!
My heart skipped a beat. I checked to see if SpriteSharkās videos were still up. They were! I didnāt understand⦠Was I blocked? I tried commenting on them. I could still comment. I could still look at their profile. I just couldnāt contact them. I didnāt understand what this was⦠But I got my answer soon enough.
SpriteSharkās next video was uploaded the next day. No two-week wait this time. I opened it the instant I saw it.
It started off with Tracer laying on the bed, head propped up on her hands. She stared into her camera with an adoring smile. Her long legs stuck up behind her, and she reminded me of a stereotypical teenage girl. The camera seemed to be lying down beside her.
āSorry,ā she said softly,Ā āI just like seeing you.ā
She leaned in for a quick kiss.
āI just wanted to say thanks for all youāve done for me. Youāre always there. Youāre always cheering me up⦠Iāve never been happier than when Iām with you, Jeremy.ā
I stared into the screen, in awe.
āI got your message, by the wayā¦ā From the bed, she picked up her phone and showed the screen to the camera. I saw my unsent message there, displaying on her screen. I only needed to read the first few words to know it was mine.
āIām sorry if it wasnāt entirely clear. But I was talking to you. You really can be so silly sometimes.āĀ She said it in a gently chiding tone.Ā āItās you that I want, Jeremy. Itās always you.ā
I clicked out of the video. This had officially gotten too weird. I mean⦠it was one thing to just coincidentally have the same name as Tracerās lover in the videos⦠But to think she was actually talking to me? That was absurd! I shook my head and headed down to my gaming rig. I didnāt feel like streaming, I just wanted to play something. Overwatch was still my favorite, so I opted for that, but I didnāt go with Tracer this time. I picked Genji, the cyborg samurai.
As the match went on, I was able to forget that weird video for a bit and just enjoy myself. But I didnāt get to get away for long. Iād just started a second match when the Tracer on my team ran up to me.
āSorry if I scared you, Jeremy!ā she said. It wasnāt a text line. It was a fully voiced emote. In the game, Tracer looked me dead in the eyes.
I stared back, my heart starting to race, and I exited that match immediately. No more Overwatch. I sat there for a moment, before setting up my Xbox One. Halo would be nice to play! Some good old-fashioned, old school Halo! Over the years, it had still remained one of my favorite games! It would calm me down! I chose the snow level, since it was my favorite. But as soon as the gameplay started, the HUD was all wrong.
Instead of the Halo Assault Rifle, I saw Tracerās dual SMGs. I saw her health bar instead of Haloās shield bar. I could only stare in confusion, but I continued to play. I didnāt know what I was looking at⦠but curiosity now outweighed my fear.
āIs this what you want to play?ā Tracerās voice asked as the level started. I had full control, like I normally would have, and Tracer handled the same way she would have in Overwatch. She gunned down the alien armies of that old game like sheād always been a part of it.
āThis is probably a bit jarring, isnāt it?ā she asked,Ā āBut I had to show you it was really me! Itās alright. You can be shocked. Iād sure be if I were you!ā
āHow is this happeningā¦ā I murmured. āHow is this possible?ā I was barely focusing on playing the game. I knew the level well and was playing on a low difficulty, so I wasnāt too worried about dying.
āWish I knew, love,āĀ Tracer replied,Ā āIām as in the dark as you are here. But what I know, is that you really do mean a lot to me. Ever since I ended up on that site, you were always there. I know this is hard to buy, but I really do love you, Jeremy. And you really do make me feel so good. Like a real woman again! Not like Emilyā¦āĀ There was a tinge of disgust in her voice when she said the name of her canon lover.
āI⦠I do?ā
āYou really do,āĀ Tracer assured me. The violence of the game didnāt seem to affect her.Ā āMaybe after this, you and me could have a little more face to face, yeah?ā she asked. āSort some things out.ā
There really wasnāt any other answer I could have given her.
āY-yeah⦠For sureā¦ā
āBrilliant! Weāll talk it out later. Right now, Iām having fun! Look at me go! Shit!ā No sooner had she said that than a golden alien with a sword hit her and killed her.
āIām alright! Weāll just try again!ā Tracer said with a giggle. Even the model of the player in-game had been replaced with Tracerās. She stood out with the stark difference in graphics and art style.
I finished the level with Tracer before going back to my computer. I opened it up to find the next video on my computer. Nothing involving SharkSprite this time. I clicked on it and opened it. Sure enough, Tracer was waiting there. She was sitting in her living room, on a comfortable-looking couch and fully dressed. It almost seemed like she actually wanted to talk.
āThere we go! Just you and me now!ā she said with her ever-present grin. āNow⦠I hope you believe everything Iām telling you is true, Jeremy. I donāt really get the why of all of it. Thatās a little beyond my level. Maybe we can figure it out together. But what I do know is that I want to take the next step with you!ā
āNext step?ā I asked. She seemed to still hear me alright.
āItās a bit of a doozy, but I know you can do this. See⦠I like the way I feel when weāre together. But⦠there is kind of something really special I want.ā
āSpecial how?ā I asked. My heart was racing as the reality of my situation was dawning on me. I could really have Tracerās heart! She could be mine, just like Iād always wanted!
āPlease, tell me!ā
āOkay, but you have to promise not to freak out. Itās a lot⦠I want to be with you. I want to be on your side of the screen, Jeremy! Thereās a lot of information I can find in my current position, and Iāve been thinking about this for a while. But itās hard to do. You need to give me something from your side.ā
āWhat kind of something?ā I asked.
āWell, thatās the hard part, you see⦠I need life, Jeremy. Human life. I know itās a lot⦠nut we need to kill someone. I can show you how, itās not that hard. But it has to be done in a certain way.ā
Murder? I stared dumbfounded at the screen, and Tracer held her hands up.
āI know, I know⦠Itās a lot. Trust me, I know. We can be picky. We can find⦠I dunno. Some tosser! It just has to be a woman, and it has to be done right, or else it wonāt work.ā
I thought about shutting the computer off, but would that work? Tracer didnāt look like she could be talked out of it, and⦠well, did I want to talk her out of it? She did say it could just be some asshole, and God did I know some assholes! āItās okay. Think it over,ā Tracer said, but stood up and sat on her knees, closer to the camera. āBut just imagine. I could be yours. Free of this existence, free to be in your world. You and I could be together forever. I really do love you, Jeremy. I love you with all my heart and Iād do anything for us to be together, even if it means this. Itās just one life in exchange for a lifetime of happiness⦠Donāt you deserve this?ā
I did, didnāt I? I looked into the screen, into Tracerās… no, Lenaās big brown eyes. She was beautiful. She was perfect. I would kill for her. I had to.
āYes⦠I do⦠Iāll do it.ā
Tracerās smile widened.
āBrilliant! I promise, Iāll make you the happiest man alive!ā She stood and picked up the camera. āNow, I can show you again later if you need⦠But let me show you how to do itā¦ā
She carried the camera through her apartment and towards what looked to be a computer room. None of the videos had taken me inside there yet. She opened the door and revealed a 3D model of her girlfriend, Emily, tied to an office chair. That was interesting.
Iād seen fanmade models of Emily, but never anything canon. This still looked pretty good all things considered. It looked like what Blizzard would have made for Emily if she were in the game.
āLena⦠Lena, please, noā¦ā
I could hear her sobbing, and I could see her struggling against her bindings. Her voice wasnāt one I recognized. She had a British accent, but not cockney like Tracerās.
āOh, will you just shut it already?ā Tracer… no, Lena, snapped. She picked up a knife from the desk and stood behind her soon to be ex-girlfriend.
āNow⦠What I want you to do, is cut like this. You can be merciful. I promise, itāll be easier that way. We mostly need the blood.ā
āNo, noā¦ā Emily sobbed. āPlease, no! Do-ā
Emilyās protests were silenced as Tracer ran the knife over her throat. There was no blood at first. The blade just clipped through the model, but the reaction was disturbingly realistic. Despite there being no visible wound, the blood still trickled down Emilyās chest. Her cries turned into dry gasps for breath. Her body jerked around. The whole while, Tracer stood patiently behind her, waiting for her to die. The blood looked uncomfortably realistic as it soaked into Emilyās shirt.
āNow⦠Thereās a pattern you have to do. It has to be on the screen, and itās quite ornate. But I can send you an image.āĀ Tracer said.Ā āYou can trace over it if you need to.āĀ She giggled at the stupid little pun. I watched as she stuck a finger into Emilyās wound and drew the pattern onto the screen. She drew two circles, one inside the other. The space between them was decorated with ornate circle of lines that looked almost like a labyrinth. The center was bare, but the exterior was something Iād never remember how to do on my own. It was complex and confusing. Looking at it made my eyes hurt. I almost swore that it was moving.
I watched as Tracer dipped her finger into the blood to add a few more touches. For a moment, I thought I saw a long nail dragging itself against the screen. I blinked and it was gone. Tracer was still smiling, her eyes looking at the camera, and at me.
āDo you see it?ā she asked. I slowly nodded, but I didnāt understand it. āItās okay if you need help! Iāll be there to help! You just need to trace the pattern, and after that, we can be together. Easy, right?ā
It did seem fairly easy. I wondered at the significance of the sigil she was showing me how to draw. But the why of it was lost to me.
āEasy,ā I said.
āI knew youād get it!āĀ Tracer let her hand fall, and approached the camera. Her body blocked out Emilyās corpse.Ā āDonāt take too long. Find someone, and we can be together! I canāt wait to see you in person, Jeremy. Itās been too long⦠I donāt want to wait any longer!ā
For a while afterwards, I thought about how Iād do it, who Iād choose. There was a girl I knew in High School named Karen who might be a good target. I still followed her on Facebook and watched as sheād gone nowhere in life, making bath bombs and manipulating some poor man into thinking he loved her. But how would I get her to my house? No⦠She wasnāt a good candidate. Besides, theyād recently gotten married and sheād be missed. I needed someone no one would miss!
Tracerās request made me realize that there were no women in my life aside from her. Maybe that was a blessing. I needed a stranger. I needed someone I could get to my place without any issues. It would probably be easier that way. So I started thinking about who nobody would miss. The answer was honestly pretty simple. Iād buy myself a whore.
Destiny was good enough for my purposes. I found her in an online listing. She was a tall, toned blonde with short curly hair and a thousand-watt smile. She came dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a tank top. In a lot of ways, she was very inconspicuous. I kind of respected that about her. I had to pay her upfront, but that wasnāt a problem. She put my $500 into her purse for safekeeping, and I knew Iād just get it back later.
āThis is a nice place youāve got,ā she said sweetly. My apartment had been cleaned up a bit in anticipation of Tracerās arrival. I didnāt want to put her off, after all.
āYeah, itās small, but itās mine,ā I said shyly. I couldnāt look her in the eye. I stared out the window. When I felt Destinyās hands on my body, and her lips on my neck, I shivered. It felt good. Was this what Tracer would feel like?
āDo you want to go to the bedroom?ā she asked me. I liked her voice.
āYes,ā I said, still not wanting to look at her. I knew what I was about to do, and I was starting to doubt myself. I wanted to ask her about herself. I wanted to find out who she was, why she was doing this. Iām sure no one had ever asked before. God, was I going crazy?
āFirst door on the right, down the hall,ā I said. Destiny pulled away and went. Iād lied, of course. I was sending her to the computer room. Tracer could help me clean up the mess afterward.
āBe right there!ā I called back to her, and turned to head into my kitchen. I took a steak knife from my drawer and clutched it tightly as I followed Destiny to her destiny. This was a stranger. Someone who had no idea what they were walking into. Hell, she was a fucking whore! People killed them all the time! Why was I so nervous?
āThis is the bedroom?ā Destiny asked, frowning as she looked around the computer room. She took a step back, going to try the next door. I was coming up behind her now. My heart was racing. I couldnāt do this!
I raised the knife and brought it down before I could think properly. Destiny screamed and lurched forward. The knife was torn out of her body. I stumbled after her as she tried to put some distance between us.
āWhat the fuck!ā She was clearly terrified. I understood why. I was running on pure adrenaline myself. I rushed towards her, knife in hand and drove it into her stomach, over and over again. I shouldāve gone for the neck, but I wasnāt thinking. I was panicking! I just wanted her to die! I wanted her to stop making those awful sounds!
Destiny crashed against my bedroom door and slid to the ground. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. Her red intestines spilled out of her open stomach, but somehow she still clung to life. I saw her silently pleading with me to let her live⦠Whoever she was, she didnāt want to die. I suppose I understood that. But I couldnāt grant her wish. I wanted Tracer, and for that, she had to die. I put the knife into her neck. Destinyās eyes didnāt close. Her head slammed against the doorframe. She made a wheezing gasp, similar to what Emily had made when sheād died on screen.
There was so much blood⦠It was all over my hands, all over the carpet, all over me.
I left the knife in her neck and took a step back, looking at the mauled carcass in front of me. Destiny was dead. The hard part was done. But why did I feel so sick? Why did I want to vomit? Oh, God, what was I doing?
āSounds like itās done!āĀ I heard Tracer say from the computer room. āYou okay, Jeremy?ā
I looked in the direction of her voice, legs shaking and unable to speak.
Slowly, I nodded.
āIām fine!ā I said, āI just⦠I need to bring her inā¦ā
āDonāt be long!ā Tracer said. āIām impatient.ā
I grabbed Destiny by the leg and dragged her into the computer room. She was heavier than she looked, and she left a trail. Her intestines hung from the wound Iād torn in her belly. But to my relief, they didnāt come spilling out. God⦠I wouldāve been sick if that had happened. The stink of death was already painfully strong. Apparently, the rumor that your bowels evacuate upon death is true. There was another, even worse smell that I couldnāt describe. I wasnāt strong enough to handle that. I had to head to the bathroom to be sick.
When at last Iād wrestled Destinyās body into the computer room, I saw the sigil displayed on my computer screen.
āYou know what to do!āĀ Tracer said, upbeat as ever,Ā āGo on then. Do it, Jeremy. Let me in!ā
I dipped my finger into the blood, and I traced two circles. Slowly, I completed the design, my hands shaking as I did so. It wasnāt perfect work. A computer screen isnāt the best place to draw, and blood isnāt the best thing to draw with. It was messy, but it was there.
āGood, good⦠Youāre doing great, Jeremyā¦ā Tracer cooed. āDonāt worry. Itāll all go away soon. Iāll make it go awayā¦ā
I finished the infernal design and admired my work on the screen. I reached for the mouse and opened my folder filled with various hentai images of Tracer, then my folder specially for videos. I opened one of my favorites from SpriteShark and watched as Tracer appeared on the screen.
āHello, Jeremy!ā she said. This wasnāt how the video was supposed to begin, but I didnāt mind.
āHi, Lenaā¦ā I smiled at her, and she smiled back. She looked at the blood on my screen and smiled wider, before tentatively reaching her hand out towards me. Just when she should have touched the glass, I saw it crack. I saw shards of it fall away, and I saw Tracerās fingertips emerge from behind them.
āItās working!ā I could hear her voice from inside the screen, not just from the speakers. āJeremy, itās really working!ā
Her entire hand was almost through! It seemed so unreal just looking at itā¦
Iād wondered if sheād look like a normal person, but the hand I saw still looked like it belonged in a video game. It was still part of Overwatchās art style.
āGive me a hand, Jeremy,ā Tracer said, āPull me through!ā
Her fingers opened, beckoning me forward. I reached out towards her to help her through. For a perfect moment⦠I touched Lena Oxton. I touched my beloved Tracerā¦
āLenaā¦ā I said softly. I pulled her arm out of the screen. The glass fell away as her head came through. She looked at me with wide, adoring eyes. She looked at me like she would be mine forever. Her other hand came up and caressed my cheek. Her smile widened. Then her mouth opened.
That was when I started screaming.
The long rows of teeth werenāt what terrified me. It was the legions of eyes behind them. The darkness that lurked in the depths of her mouth. That mouth which opened impossibly wide. It yawned ahead of me like a cavern. It was in that moment I understood what had happened. Tracer wasnāt real. Lena Oxton was a fictional character made up for a video game. But this⦠Whatever this was, whatever Iād just let into this world, it was real. This was right here in front of me, and it was going to kill me.
I pushed her back before stumbling away from the screen, away from the monstrosity that was now partially through it. I spied the door to the computer room and bolted, but her inhumanly long fingers caught me by the arm.
āYouāre mine, Jeremy,ā Tracer crooned. āYou belong to me.ā I couldnāt escape her iron grip, but, oh my God, did I try. I pulled as hard as I could and I swear I felt myself slipping. Tracerās mouth opened wide and she stretched out her neck to bite down on my arm. I felt the bone break and screamed out in agony as it did. Then came the sensation of numbness. It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt, but I was free!
I put in one final push as I threw myself at the door of the computer room. I felt Tracerās fingertips brush against me, and looked back to see what was happening.
The contorted mass that barely resembled the character I loved protruded from the screen like a macabre flower. In one hand, she clutched my arm. Bone jutted out of the place where it had once been attached to my body, and the blood was soaking into my shirt. The pain was unbearable. But fear kept me upright.
āJeremy!ā she cried, and she reached out to me one last time. That lurch of movement brought the screen closer to the edge of the desk, and the immense weight coming out of the front proved too much. My screen tipped over, falling onto the floor and bringing āTracerā down with it. I heard it bellow in rage before I turned and ran, stumbling over my feet as I burst out of my apartment and into the hallway, screaming and crying like a madman.
I stumbled, and at last, I fell, writhing on the ground like an insect. My mind was getting foggy. Darkness was starting to tug at the edges of my vision and I could still hear that horrible shrieking coming from behind me, echoing down the hall.
I woke up in the intensive care unit. I was told that some of the neighbors heard the commotion and found me in the hall. They were nice. They called the ambulance. There was nothing they could do for my arm. But it doesnāt hurt anymore. The drugs they keep me on see to that. Most of the time I just sleep. My family visits from time to time, and Chris even dropped by to check up on me. I didnāt tell any of them what happened. No one would believe me.
I waited for the Police to come and talk to me. I wasnāt surprised when they did. It was just one officer. I didnāt catch his name.
āHow are you feeling, Jeremy?ā the cop asked as he came in.
āTired,ā I admitted, ābut Iāve been worse.ā
āThatās good. Iām sure you know why Iām here. I just wanted to ask a few questions about the attack.ā
āSure.ā
āFirst off, whatās the last thing you remember.ā
I paused and chose my answer carefully.
āI was playing a game,ā I said, āin the computer room.ā
āYou donāt remember the animal entering?ā he asked.
āAnimal?ā I played dumb. āIām honestly not sure what happened⦠Nobodyās really telling me anything and I donāt remember much.ā The cop frowned.
āWell⦠itās a little hard to say for sure, but we think an animal, maybe a bear, got into your apartment through the window. We know you were attacked in the computer room. We found a broken window and the room was torn apart. But weāre not sure what animal did it⦠We suspected it mightāve been a bear, but⦠Well, you were on the sixth floor.ā
I stared quietly at him for a few moments, taking in what heād told me.
āWas anyone else hurt?ā I asked. āDid anyone else see anything?ā
āNo on both accounts. Far as we can tell, youāre the only victim.ā The cop said, āNo one else saw anything either.ā
I asked my final question. The one I already knew the answer to.
āMy computer screen⦠What happened to it?ā
The cop raised an eyebrow.
āUm⦠Not sure, I have some photos of the crime scene if that would jog your me-ā
āShow me.ā
He did as I asked and set the photos of my computer room on my lap. I looked over them, focusing on my shattered computer screen on the ground. It sat upright, with the screen completely torn out. Shards of it lay on the ground amongst all the blood, and behind it⦠a broken window with blue sky beyond.
š§ Available Audio Adaptations: None Available
š More stories from author: Ryan Peacock
Publisher's Notes: N/A Author's Notes: N/AMore Stories from Author Ryan Peacock:
Related Stories:
You Might Also Enjoy:
Recommended Reading:
Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).