Page 11 of Game Over

The cameras in her apartment are my finest work—nano-devices embedded in everyday objects. The smoke detector contains a 360-degree lens with infrared capabilities. The light switches house pinhole cameras that can be activated remotely. Even her bathroom mirror has a camera hidden behind the reflective coating, completely invisible to the naked eye.

None of these devices connect to her WiFi network—they transmit on a proprietary frequency my team developed for military applications, making them undetectable to standard bug sweepers. The signals bounce between three different relays before reaching my servers, routed through seven countries. Even if someone managed to follow the connection, they’d end up at a server farm in Mongolia registered to a shell company that doesn’t exist.

“Welcome home.”

She drops her bag and kicks off her shoes. The tension radiates through her movements. I know that walk, that look in her eyes. My pulse quickens as she heads straight for her bedroom.

The night vision camera gives me a clear view as she yanks open her bedside drawer. My favorite show is about to begin. The silicone vibrator, the one I’ve seen her use countless times, appears in her hand.

“There it is.” My cock hardens as she strips, tossing clothes aside with desperate speed. “Show me what you need.”

She sprawls across her sheets, phone in one hand, toy in the other. I activate the screen capture on her device, knowing exactly what she’s searching for. My TikToks as GhostDaddy, just like every other night.

Her phone was the trickiest to infiltrate without detection. Most spyware leaves traces—battery drain, performance issues, and strange behavior which she had noticed in my initial hack and changed her phone. My solution was to create a replica of her phone’s operating system with my monitoring code built into the kernel. I orchestrated a perfect SIM swap during a “chance” encounter with one of my guys at a coffee shop six months ago while “helping” her troubleshoot connection issues. She never suspected that the “kind IT guy” who fixed her phone had replaced its entire digital backbone.

Through her smart TV, Alexa, phone camera, hidden cameras I installed, and every digital eye I’ve placed in her sanctuary, I drink in the sight and sound of her, her subtle arch of her back, the way her thighs spread. But nothing is private from me, not anymore.

“Fuck, baby girl. Get yourself ready for me.”

I lean closer to the monitors, adjusting the camera angles for the best view. Every gasp and every moan feeds directly into my custom audio setup. The whole room fills with her needy whimpers.

My hand slides down to grip my aching cock through my jeans.

I unzip them, freeing my pierced cock. The metal glints in the glow of the monitors. Her moans fill my command center through the speakers, each one sending heat through my veins.

“Fuck it.” I strip off my shirt, revealing the ghost tattoo above my heart. “Time to give you what you really need.”

My fingers fly across the keyboard, activating the protocols I’ve tested a hundred times. One by one, her smart devices respond to my commands. Her Alexa crackles to life, the voice modulation making my words deep and distorted.

This is where most stalkers would make fatal errors. They’d leave evidence in device logs or command histories. But I’ve modified her Alexa firmware to create a shadow system that operates alongside the original. My commands route through a custom channel that never registers on Amazon’s servers. The device will show no record of activation and no unusual activity. When I finish, a cleanup protocol will erase any temporary cache files, leaving her smart home system exactly as before.

“Such a needy little girl tonight.”

Her body freezes, and the vibrator drops from her trembling fingers.

“Who—”

“Shh.” I cut her off, drinking in her wide-eyed panic through the cameras. “Pick it up.”

Her hand hovers over the toy.

“Now.”

She obeys, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. My cock throbs at her instant submission.

“Good girl. Turn it on. Level three.”

The buzz fills the audio feed. Her thighs quiver.

“Show me how desperate you are.”

A moan escapes her lips as she presses the vibrator against her clit. Her free hand grips the sheets.

“Faster.”

My hand matches her pace, stroking my pierced length. The Prince Albert piercing slides against my palm with each pull.

“Please,” she whimpers.

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