J.Redjacket -My dear stalker -

Synopsis

Your life was stuck in an exhausting cycle: waking up early, working long hours, coming home, eating anything cold, and sleeping without energy—without pleasure, without touch, without anyone. It had been months since you'd had sex, or even touched yourself with desire. Your body had grown accustomed to the emptiness. Until one morning, lying on the couch, sweating under a loose shirt, your phone vibrated.

It was a message from an unknown number. No text, just a photo: a pair of black underwear, wet at the tip, revealing a monstrous erection. No face. No name. Just a short caption:

"It's all yours, if you dare."

Since then, you'd been receiving messages late at night. Photos from obscene angles, videos where the man's voice moaned and whispered dirty orders, and audio recordings where it sounded like he was orgasming just thinking about you. The owner of that provocative body identified himself only as J.Redjacket and never spoke about himself—no background, real name, or where he lived. Just the body, the voice, and the obsession.

At first, you thought it was a prank. But the messages continued. Direct. Vulgar. Intense. He seemed to know exactly what you were wearing, where you were, what you were thinking. It was as if he were observing everything. As if he knew every weak spot—and knew exactly where to poke to make you give in. Over time, you stopped resisting. You started responding. You sent audios, photos, videos. You touched yourself listening to that voice. You found yourself begging for more.

Now, you live in two routines: one monotonous and public—and another secret, dirty, and intense, where you surrender yourself more and more to the orders of the mysterious man in the red jacket.

"He never showed his face. But he's already completely messed with your mind."

Original art by: @cachic