I often browse through /r/gonewild. I like girls in addition to liking guys. Girls are different though. They’re beautiful creatures that deserve to be appreciated and respected. I don’t like the way guys talk to girls on there. I know that the girls like it, but they can do better than that. Talk like that often leads somewhere they may not like.
A friend of mine saw me perusing through the pages of nude girls and her face went white. I asked her what was wrong and she told me a seriously disturbing story. In her words, this is it:
About a year ago, I was dumped by a guy after a short month. He was the fifth in only six months. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make anyone fall in love with me. I couldn't make a relationship last more than a month. I was depressed. I found myself browsing porn sites, wishing I looked like those girls. Those were the types of girls guys wanted. I almost wished I enjoyed giving head or getting fucked in the ass, but I didn't.
By accident, I discovered reddit and, not long after, /r/gonewild. At first, I only looked. I envied. I wished I could have that attention. I craved it. I decided that was what I wanted. I could be whoever I wanted to be.
My first post wasn't all that wild, really. I used my elbows to squeeze my breasts together and, at the same time, hiding my nipples. However, the responses were overwhelming. Guys begged to see more of me. I made them wait. It was a whole week before my second post. I felt like I had been looking forward to it though. It was a bit more wild: a picture in pink lingerie.
They asked me to show more skin. They called me beautiful and listed in detail things they wanted to do to my body. I couldn't wait a whole week this time. My third post was only two days later. A shot of my uncovered breasts.
They all said such dirty things. I didn't really like all that dirty talk, but the character I made for myself, Karina, she did. I played this character and talked dirty right back. The very next day, I posted a full body nude. That was the first time he commented.
He said: “Someone so gorgeous deserves someone worthy of her.”
It stood out because it wasn't a dirty comment. It was sweet and innocent. I thanked him.
The day after, I did my first album. I included a few shots of my boobs, my butt, and some of me caressing myself. Of course, they loved them all. Upvotes galore. I was almost famous, it seemed. All of it was going to my head. I was getting overconfident. I started taking shots almost everywhere I went. I would take them in public bathrooms, dressing rooms, and do up-skirt shots in restaurants and on park benches. Honestly, I was a bit out of control.
He commented on all of them. He never said anything offensive. He was polite, yet he was on that subreddit for the same reason as the others. I received a private message from him after about a month of posting. It read: “I would love you if you were mine.” I wasn't sure what to say, but I didn't want to be rude. He was giving me the attention I wanted anyways.
I replied with: “You wouldn't if you knew me.”
His reply was strange, but I thought nothing of it. “But I do know you.”
I laughed it off. “I meant in real life.”
His reply was a link to a picture. I clicked it and my heart stopped. It was me at the mall, looking through lingerie. How did I not notice someone watching me? I wanted to call the cops, but I felt as though I’d brought it on myself by posting on the internet.
He sent me another message. It made my skin crawl. “I want you to wear that pretty red lingerie for me when I fuck you.”
He knew what I bought. I hadn't posted a picture in that yet. I felt sick. I logged off immediately. I wasn't sure what to do. I couldn't tell anyone. I didn't want anyone to know I’d been posting my nudes all over the internet for attention. I decided that I could delete my account. He didn't know where I lived. He just knew I went to that mall from my other pictures. If you were a local, it was easy to recognize.
I logged back in. There was another message waiting for me. It was another link. I didn't want to click, but I needed to know what it was. I wish now that I hadn't. It was me sitting in class at my college. It was taken through the little glass window on the door. I was taking notes. I never even noticed. How long had he been watching me?
I needed to find out how he found me. I must have left some clue in my pictures. I went though them, one by one. I couldn't find anything. Then, I saw it. In every picture, on my right hand, my class ring. He knew what college I went to because of my class ring. I wondered if he was also a student. What if he was near me all the time without me knowing?
I deleted my account. I took all my pictures off imgur. I stayed home from school the next day. I was afraid to leave my house. Around four that afternoon, I received a Facebook message from a girl named Charlotte. I don’t remember adding her as a friend, but I must have. I click on her profile before reading her message. I know her from class. Relief floods through me. Her message asked if I would like to join her study group and that, if I was interested, they were meeting after school at the coffee shop just off campus.
I needed to learn what I had missed during my absence, so I agreed and said I would see her after class.
The next day, I waited at the coffee shop. I ordered a mocha and sat in the corner. I didn't want to draw too much attention to myself since I was alone. I pulled out my laptop and got on Facebook while I waited. I wondered if maybe Charlotte had canceled the study session. No new messages from her though. I had an uneasy feeling. I went back to her profile and noticed something I should have noticed before. I was her only friend. She had no recent post history. She only had one photo. I slammed my laptop shut, threw my coffee away, and left immediately.
I felt like someone was following me. I glanced around, paranoid. I couldn't go home. I didn't know if they might be waiting for that so that they knew where I lived. What if they already knew? I was scared. I started crying. A man approached me and asked if I was alright. He touched my arm gently. I flinched away like I was burned and ran. I went into a store to hide. I watched the door, terrified it would open and my stalker would find me. That’s what he was at that point, a stalker. I didn't know who he was and that was the scariest part. He could be anyone.
I started crying again. I couldn't leave the store. I sat down on one of the little benches for trying on shoes. I sat there until a lady told me they were closing and that I had to go. I stepped outside and it was dark. He could be waiting for me. I would have been safer in the day time. I panicked. I turned around and started yanking on the door. She had already locked it behind me. She was walking back to the register. I started banging on the door and screaming. I couldn't be alone. “Please, let me in! Let me back in!” I pounded on the glass repeatedly. “Please! Don’t leave me out here with him!”
She came back. I was so grateful. She unlocked the door and let me back in, locking it again behind us. She then called the police.
I lied to them. I had to lie. I didn't want them to know how stupid I had been. I said I met him on the internet and I had no clue how he knew where I lived. I told them about the fake Charlotte Facebook account and the pictures of myself he sent me. There wasn't anything they could do without proof and, since I deleted my reddit account, I didn't have anything except Facebook messages.
I was a mess. They escorted me home and said they would have an officer on my block all night. I barely slept at all. The next day, I was afraid to leave my apartment. I received another message from fake Charlotte. It read: “I saw you at the coffee shop. Why did you leave?”
I strained my mind, struggling to remember the people in the coffee shop around me, but the truth was, none of them stood out. They were just regular people. My stalker looked normal. If he had been wearing a bright purple top hat with a matching suit and held a giant sign that read “I’M STALKING YOU”, maybe I’d have noticed, and still just maybe. The truth is, I’m almost always unaware of the things around me. My stalker was right there and I couldn't tell.
I contacted the police department and told them about the new message. They took note of it and said the officer would be on my block again that night to keep me safe. What about during the day though? How was I supposed to go outside?
I blocked the fake Facebook account and made sure all my doors were locked. I closed my blinds in every room and turned on all the lights. I ate ramen noodles and watched Netflix. I fell asleep on my couch. I was awoken by the text buzzing of my phone. It was from a strange number. I opened it. “I like Clueless too.”
I covered my mouth to stifle a sob. That was the movie I had been watching when I had fallen asleep. I called 911 and told them someone was in my house. The officer on my block knocked on my door just a minute later. I showed him the text and told him I thought the guy was in my house. He searched the house, gun drawn and found nothing. No sign of forced entry on any of the doors or windows. However, he did discover that you could see my TV clearly through my blinds.
They tried to track the number, but it was a TextFree account and the name and email address it was connected to turned up nothing. He knew where I lived. I wanted to leave and go stay with a friend, but I knew he would just follow me. Instead, I invited my older brother to stay at my house for a few days. I told him about what was going on and pleaded that he stay to protect me.
After hearing my story, he decided he would stay until they caught the guy. My brother lived nearby, so it wasn't a big deal. However, he still had to leave me to go to work. During those hours, I paced, constantly peering out the windows and jumping at the slightest noise. When my brother, Sean, was home, I stayed in the same room at all times. I made him take me grocery shopping. I couldn't go alone. I stopped going to school. I needed someone to catch this guy. For the first few days Sean stayed, I heard nothing from my tormentor. I was relieved, but at the same time, it felt like the calm before the storm.
On the fourth day, I got a text from a different number than before. “7 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday”. It was Sean’s work schedule. He knew when I would be alone. I sunk down against the counter, sobbing. It was 12 p.m. on a Saturday. He had six more hours before Sean got home. I phoned the cops.
They tried tracking the number again, but same as before, nothing. I contemplated suicide. My hair was falling out. I couldn't sleep. I had chewed my nails down until they bled. Weeks went by. I received text after text, all from different numbers. They all told me he was watching.
At some point, I decided I couldn't be a victim anymore. I had my brother go with me to get a gun license. I bought a Ruger Compact Pistol. I spent a lot of money I didn't have on that gun and went to a shooting range to learn how to use it. He wasn't going to fuck with me anymore.
Sean offered to take off work to stay and watch over me, but I refused. Instead, after he left, I went out. I wanted to bait my stalker. I needed to know who he was. I needed him to slip up and reveal himself accidentally. So, I went out window shopping. I flipped through racks of clothes and tried on shoes. I watched the people around me, but I didn't notice anyone watching and I didn't see anyone twice.
I didn't receive any texts. It was like he knew I was trying to catch him. He stopped for a week. I started going back to school. My first day back, he sent me a picture of myself at my desk. Again, it was through the glass window in the door. My head snapped to the right. He was already gone. I excused myself from class. When I got out in the hall, I didn't know which way he had gone. I didn't know what he looked like. I had left my gun in my car. I couldn't take it in the school. It was hidden under my seat. I felt a lot less brave without it.
I weighed my stalker’s options. Left led to the lunch quarters and right led out to the main office and visitor parking. Assuming he wasn't a student, I went right. I ran. I reached the parking lot and saw a car leaving. I didn't know that it was my stalker, but I memorized the license plate and saved it in my phone. After that, I went to the front office and asked to speak with security personnel.
A balding, overweight man who fit the donut stereotype spoke with me. I told him about my situation and asked him if I could see the security footage from the time that I was in class and received the photo. He allowed me to see it. During the moment I received the photo, he was already gone, but before that, a guy in a black hoodie watched through the window for nearly ten minutes before snapping the photo. It was sent a few minutes later after he’d already gone. I felt defeated. He was smarter than I thought. The car I saw pulling out couldn't have been him. I asked him to play the footage from when he was coming down the hall, when he would be facing the cameras. He kept his head low, but I could see he was white with dark hair. I couldn't see much more than that.
I had the security guy send it over to the police. They were able to determine his height and guess his weight. They put him at 6’4” and around 200 lbs. They put pictures of him and the only information they had on flyers and had them tacked all around the college. The urged anyone who had seen him to call. They received a few calls. Someone had seen his face.
His description was put out on the news. I felt better than I had in weeks. I finally had him. They were going to get him. That night, I got a call. It was panting and grunting. It sounded like someone jacking off over the phone. I was pretty sickened and hung up. I got another text. “I’m going to fuck you before they get me.”
I didn't answer as always, but this time, he kept going. “I love those little black panties you’re wearing.”
I was wearing black panties. I was frozen with fear. “You know that sexy little yellow dress in your closet?”
“It smells nice.”
I bolted out of the room and grabbed my purse, whipping out the gun. I fumbled to turn off the safety. He was in my closet. I went back to my room and ripped open the closet door and fired. I managed to blow a hole in the back of my closet wall as well as make my ears ring worse than I thought possible.
I had another text. “Nope, not in there. I hope the panties I took aren't your favorite. You left them in the bathroom floor.”
He was in my house. He had taken my underwear. He had been in my closet. I hadn't been able to do anything. I updated the cops and they tried again to track the number. I knew they wouldn't find anything, so I changed mine. I would no longer know he was watching me. I can’t say which is worse, knowing or not knowing.
Since he couldn't text me, he would have to find another way to contact me. And he did. He started another Facebook account. This time it was a guy named Chance. Someone also from class. “You’re cute. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out for drinks sometime?”
I knew it wasn't Chance. Chance was gay. But I sent back: “I would love to. What place did you have in mind?”
He told me to meet him at a bar on the North side of town. It was an old bar and it didn't get a lot of business. There would probably be no one there. I told my brother and he let the police know, just so my stalker wouldn't see me communicating with the police.
I made a show out of getting ready for my “date.” I got ready in my room, where I already knew he could see though my blinds. I wore the yellow dress. My heart was beating way too fast. Sean told me that the police would be watching and not to worry.
I drove to the bar and stood outside in my yellow dress. I was a bright splotch in the darkness. I could barely breathe. A car pulled up next to mine. It was a shitty navy blue Ford Probe. I waited, holding my breath. No one got out. At the last second, he reversed and peeled out of there pretty fast. The undercover cop parked across the street sped after him.
They caught him. Do you know who tortured me all that time? Do you know who ruined my life all because of some naked pictures on the internet? A fucking kid. He was a sixteen year old dropout who spent all his time fapping to his computer screen. When he saw my class ring and realized I was so close, he became obsessed with having the real thing. I still have nightmares because this fucked up little brat couldn't get some.
This is a warning to you, girls of /r/gonewild, watch what you put in your pictures. Be wary of everyone. Don’t lead anyone on and, if someone starts harassing you, don’t wait to tell someone. Protect yourself and your identity. NEVER show your face in a post or give out your location, phone number, etc. You don’t want to go through what I did.