The Lets Read Podcast - 163: THE DANGERS OF ONLYFANS | 22 True Scary Stories | EP 151

Episode Date: November 29, 2022

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about OnlyFans, Baby Abductors, & Vacations... HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT?► www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial FOLLOW ME ON - ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsReadCreepy ♫ Background Music & Audio Remastering: INEKT https://www.instagram.com/_inekt/ PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead Update Description

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If you have questions or concerns about gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. Ben MGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. Back in 2004, me and the wife decided we couldn't face freezing our bits off for yet another British winter, and started looking for a much more tropical location to spend the festive 2004, me and the wife decided we couldn't face freezing our bits off for yet another British winter and started looking for a much more tropical location to spend the festive period. We were working on a bit of a budget and couldn't quite afford the Thai or Vietnamese beaches we'd had our hearts set on. But after a little bit of searching, we came across this lovely little

beachside bed and breakfast in a little town called Gaul on the southwestern coast of Sri Lanka. It was definitely priced as a budget hotel, but the photos the owners had taken showed it to be a quaint, clean, and beautiful little place. And once my wife was taken with it, I had very little choice in the matter, so I made us a booking. The food was amazing, the people were welcoming, and the beaches were everything we could have hoped for. Come Christmas day, we had the most unusual Christmas dinner of our lives, sharing a veritable banquet of different dolls and curries at a local restaurant. And it was so good that neither of us missed pigs and blankets that year.

And I'm sure most of you will agree, that's really saying something. We finished off with a few drinks on the beach, stopping every so often to giggle at how surreal it all was that we were sunbathing on Christmas day. Then, once we were drowsy enough, we headed off to bed for an early night. The next morning was even better. No hangovers, no dodgy leftovers to work through, no going down the local park in the freezing cold to pretend that a brisk Boxing Day walk is anything but an absolute ball ache. Just sun, sea and sandy beaches for five more days. Me and the wife replaced the horrid Boxing Day park walk with drinks and nibbles in this beachside cafe.

Nibbling on dips and Papa Dom's, wondering how we were going to readjust to life back in the UK again. I mean, it had been literally paradise for almost a full fortnight. We could have never have possibly guessed in that moment that our festive little Asian trip would turn out to be the biggest mistakes of our lives. But we soon learned that a dream day can turn into a living nightmare in just a matter of minutes. So we're just sitting there in the open-air restaurant, holding hands, both enjoying that lovely rhythmic sound of the waves gently breaking against the beach, when suddenly, it stops. We heard that big rush as the water was pulled back away from the shore, but no crash followed,

and me and my wife watched as the water crept further and further back away from the shore. And I don't mean by like a few feet or anything, it just kept going and going, until you could barely see the edge anymore, and there was only wet sand as far as the eye could see. I distinctly remember the moment I saw these tiny specks on only wet sand as far as the eye could see. I distinctly remember the moment I saw these tiny specks on the wet sand in the distance and how it almost looked like they were jumping up and down. Only that's exactly what they were doing. They were fish that

had been swimming in the shallows when the water had just disappeared and now they were flapping around in the sand, gasping for breath. I turn to see the young waitress standing behind us and I'm about to ask her what was happening but her face told me all I needed to know. She was gopping even harder than we were and had obviously never seen anything like it in her life. The next thing I know, there are people running out onto the wet sand with plastic bags Scooping up the fish into them before moving on to the next poor flounder It was actually quite amusing for a moment Thinking it must have been the easiest morning's fishing that any of them have ever experienced

But the next moment, I hear this absolute roar of a shout coming from down the beach An older man was bellowing something out to the lad scooping up fish, then he turns and starts shouting with his hands cupped around his mouth, like he's trying to announce something to everyone. I turn around to the Sri Lankan waitress to ask her what's being said, but by that time, her dad showed up, the cafe's owner I later found out, and he has this horrified look on his face. I could tell he was looking out to sea, so I turned to see what he's looking at and that's when I saw that the water was starting to come back in.

Only it wasn't returning as gently as it had rescinded. It was getting faster and faster and the wave was getting bigger and bigger. Sir and madam, please, come upstairs. I remember the owner saying suddenly, there's a big wave coming, a very big wave. We must all go upstairs now, very fast please. The cafe was basically a big hollowed out concrete block, so I was confident that we would indeed be safe if we went upstairs where there was another open air dining area. The only trouble was getting everyone up there as the owner's elderly mother was confined

to a wheelchair. I didn't actually see her at first, she was in another room when we all started to move so I was halfway up the stairs by the time I saw the owner wheeling her to the bottom. It was honestly one of the most horrifying moments of my life. This horrendous, oh no, moment. Because the guy was trying to pull her up the stairs backwards in the wheelchair but he clearly didn't have the strength to do it on his own. I basically pushed my wife up the stairs then forced my way back down them towards where the owner was struggling with his mom. I grabbed one handle, he grabbed the other, but that wasn't working so we tried actually carrying the whole thing by grabbing the wheel spokes but again that wasn't working. The whole time I can hear the wave getting closer and closer, my poor wife from the top floor saying oh my god, oh my god as it's getting near

to breaking. Then it struck. We didn't have the owner's mom up as high as we needed and all this water and debris came crashing over us. It was pure chaos for a second. I was grabbing onto the banister and to someone's arm or leg. I couldn't tell who's just holding on for dear life. All of a sudden, the water level drops a bit but it's still rushing past us. This lets me see that I've got hold of the owner's arm while he has hold of his mom's hands. The wheelchair was nowhere to be seen, like it was there one moment, gone the next, just dragged away by what turned out to be a 15 foot high tsunami. I'm sorry if my writing starts to take a turn at this point, remembering all of this is

really, really painful and I'm sure you'll understand why in just a moment. So I'm pulling with all my might, trying to keep the owner and by proxy his mom from being washed away. They're just too heavy for me to drag out of the water and I'm actually struggling to hold onto myself so I'm absolutely terrified that I'm going to lose grip which will mean not only do I die, but they die too. I can't even express how ashamed I am to say this but there was a moment where I thought about just letting go. I know that sounds absolutely soulless but the kind of terror I felt in that moment, I'd never experienced anything like it in my life.

It was like something else just took over for a moment. A screw-everyone-but-me kind of attitude that placed my life above all else. But even in the moment I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself, it just seemed out of the question. If I lose grip on them, if they get ripped away from me, that's different. But for me to just let go seemed a bit too much, like murder for me to go through with it. Next thing, I'm snapped out of that horrible moment by screaming from the owner and his mom. They're saying things to each other in their language, so I don't have a clue what they're saying. I thought I could pretty much guess that they'd

be saying don't let go, I don't want to die, I won't let you go mom, stuff like that. But then, and I'm choking up as I write this, the owner suddenly let go of his mom's hand. I thought she might have slipped or something, but the way he turned so purposefully and ran back up the stairs, I knew that he'd just let her go. I was stunned, absolutely stunned, but as I said, I'm just in survival mode, so I followed him up the stairs to the safety of the top floor. I feel my wife bear hug me, this full body impact before she burst into tears. It hadn't occurred to me but because she hadn't been able to see what I was doing, she thought I'd been washed away. She's crying and screaming at me,

where did you go? I swear I wanted to tell her but I just couldn't. Instead I looked over the edge of the open top dining area and I just gasped at Instead, I looked over the edge of the open-topped dining area and I just gasped at the utter destruction below us. The entire landscape had been completely transformed. It was almost unrecognizable, and the water just kept going and going inland, never slowing down, never stopping. I remember the moment I realized it could have been happening to the entire island, just miles and miles of coastline completely and utterly destroyed in just a few minutes. Yet although it was bad enough when the water was coming in, it was even worse as the tide dragged it back out again.

Because all that death and destruction that was caused bulldozing its way inland, it was pulled back past us as the wave returned to the ocean. There were so many bodies I lost count. Every other second you'd see a patch of pink or brown flesh floating on the surface, maybe a streak of color from someone's clothing. There were so many dead, so many who just didn't see it coming. But the hardest part for me to bear was yet to come. When the majority of the danger had passed and there was just stagnant water on the floor below us, the owner and one of his sons ventured downstairs to bring up what little food and water they could salvage from the flooded kitchen. We knew rescue wouldn't be quick, and people already working their way through the mess

outside, pulling out dead bodies and survivors alike. Me and my wife pitched in as best we could, but the fact remained that there just wasn't much we could do at that stage other than try to comfort the handful of people with us, Sri Lankans included. That night, none of us could sleep. Even with the free beer that the owner had given us. So, when I saw him smoking a cigarette in the darkness on his own, I thought I might give him a bit of company. I hadn't smoked since I first tried in sixth form college, but that night,

I asked him for a smoke, and we shared a beer and a cig in silence. Then out of nowhere he says, I didn't want to let her go. I didn't even really know what to say to that. I knew he was referring to his mom, but I didn't know if he was just trying to rationalize it or what. So I just nodded. I told him, I know, I know, mate. But he shook his head. He goes on to tell me that his mom had told him to let her go. She knew I couldn't pull them both in, and she also knew that it wouldn't be long before we'd all be dragged off. So she sacrificed herself for us.

The owner told me what their little exchange had been, and I swear to God it almost broke me. He said it went something like this. Let me go son, let me go. No mom, you'll drown. If you don't let me go we'll all drown. Just hold on. Son, I've had a long life and I've had a good life. You've been a good son and you've made me very proud but your family you need to take care of. Do as I tell you. I love you mom. I love you too. Goodbye. He said he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye so he just let her go, turned, then went to look after his family just like his mom had told him to.

This all happened nearly 16 years ago and I still can't talk or think about it without tearing up. I can't even imagine being in that position and just knowing it happened was completely traumatizing. So God only knows how he actually dealt with it himself. I think that's why this has been so helpful to type up. I can't really talk to anyone about what happened that day, people beside the wife anyway. I either get frustrated that they don't understand or if they ask too many questions or, worst case scenario, I start thinking about the owner's mom.

I choke up and then there's no more talking at all. So rather than suffer the embarrassment of being a grown man in tears, I just shut my mouth and tried to deal with it. But I don't really think there is anything to deal with. I think to an extent that trauma just becomes a part of you. It doesn't hurt anyone, it's not debilitating, but it's always there, like the scar left behind after a deep wound. You just learn to live with it. Back in 2015, I went to Cologne, Germany for a work trip.

I put it in quotes because it was all in the company dime, but all it consisted of were a bunch of team-building exercises involving several different offices from around Europe and the US. There'd be go-karting, paintballing, numerous lunch meets, and nights on the town. So although we were there in a professional capacity, it was basically a paid vacation. I was honestly super psyched to be there. It was my first time outside of the US, let alone Europe. So our first night there, I went out with a work buddy of mine, hitting up a few small bars after

dinner to sample some German beers. And I do mean sample because despite what everyone said afterwards, we knew darn well that we couldn't get sauce since we had our first team building activity the following morning. So we're drinking smaller glasses of all the different beers in one place than moving on to the other. These glasses couldn't have been any bigger than 8 ounces or so, and we weren't totally finishing everything. I know it sounds dumb, but even though we were drinking, the aim was to not get drunk. My point is, by the time we got to our third bar, we were basically sober, and had told ourselves that that'd be our last stop before returning to our hotel. We walked up to the bar, checked out the drinks menu, then ordered two

small glasses of fruity, which turned out to be a bright red strawberry beer. Then as we're talking about how awesome it was, some guy sidles up to us like, Americans? We get talking to him just about where we're from and stuff and it turned out he wasn't German but had moved there from someplace else when he was a kid. I didn't want to press him on it as the way he talked made it seem like kind of a touchy subject so we just moved on to other stuff like why we were visiting Cologne. It's around then that he started asking if we wanted him to hook us up with any girls. I knew exactly what he meant by that, so I politely refused on mine and my buddy's behalf, laughing it off and assuring him I was married. He moved

on to drugs, asking if we wanted hashish or cocaine or ecstasy. Again I'm like no thanks remaining polite but then the guy kind of pauses looks us both over and asked me something that shook me to my core. He leans in so the other drinkers wouldn't hear him and he says in a low voice it's boys you want yes? I can get you boys. Very young boys. My buddy was in a mid-sip as the guy said it, and he just about chokes on his fruli as I tell the guy to take a hike. I didn't think he was serious. I thought it was more supposed to come across as an insult or something, but afterwards, I'm not so sure. I think as horrifying as it may seem, he might have actually been able to follow through

with that offer. Anyway, like I said, I just told the guy to go kick rocks since he was getting on my nerves. The guy kinda sneers at us, laughs the rebuke off, then walks away, taking a seat with a bunch of guys over in the corner of the bar. Me and my buddy work through our beers, siphon the pythons in the bar's bathroom, then head back towards our hotel room. On the way out, the guys in the corner of the bar are giving us major stink eye, but with me being semi-street smart, I just knew to stick to brightly lit places and try to shake their tail if they try to follow us. We walk for a few minutes, no one follows us, so I think we're all good.

But it's shortly after that that I realized I was actually really, really drunk. Made sense, I know, I'd been drinking, but I was too drunk. Like way too drunk for the amount I'd actually consumed. Literally the last thing I remember too drunk, like way too drunk for the amount I'd actually consumed. Literally the last thing I remember is saying, Bro, I feel gross. Then there's just nothing. I know we kept walking for a while, but I don't remember where and I don't remember passing out or seeing those shady guys from the bar again. But given that both me and Buddy woke up a few hours later, just as the

sun was starting to rise and he had been completely rinsed clean of all valuables, I'm willing to hazard a guess as to what happened. All the symptoms we felt the next day were completely consistent with being drugged with GHB or some other kind of sedative. When we reported it to the cops, they had us give urine samples and tested our urine, and lo and behold, they tested positive for some kind of knockout drug. It wasn't specifically GHB, but it was some other long three word name, but it basically had the same effect, and we both felt absolutely terrible for the next whole day. Honestly, it's not the worst thing that's ever happened to me, like, I know it could have been so much worse,

especially if those dudes were as shady as I think they were, but that's just it. I think what they did was kind of a warning, like a, this is what we're capable of kind of thing. How did they manage to slip something into our drinks? I have zero clue. It must have been when he cleaned it, but I didn't see a thing. It certainly makes for some impressive sleight of hand and certainly makes it clear that whoever we're dealing with, they were pros. Heck, if they'd really wanted to, they probably could have made us completely disappear.

We missed that first team building exercise in the morning of the second full day. Go-karting too, which really stunk knowing that we wouldn't be going again. But we had bigger fish to fry. Ultra dangerous criminal fish too. But no matter how detailed of a report we gave or how much we pointed the German cops in the right direction, they came back with nothing. I think the closest we got to a definitive answer was when one cop said that he strongly suspected it being the work of an Albanian group that were known to scam tourists. As soon as the guy said it, both me and my buddy were like, yeah, that sounds about right. The shady guy did say that he was from another country, and his unwillingness to talk about it could have been genuine.

I know all the ex-Yugoslav countries went to some terrible times in the early 90s, which could well explain why the guy was in Cologne in the first place. Thankfully, we never ran into those guys again, and the rest of the trip was so much fun, it pretty much made up for the initial drugging and robbery. But I always let it serve as a reminder that not everyone in a foreign place is some kindly stranger, and letting your guard down in a new and unfamiliar place can come with a heavy, heavy price. If I said to you Medellin, Colombia, what do you think of? Pre-2015, only a handful of people would have given the answer that is commonplace today. But since that narco show was on TV, almost everyone knows what Medellin

is famous for. And that's for being the home of the Medellin Cartel, headed up by the one and only Pablo Escobar. These days, the Medellin Cartel are confined to the history books, but the legacy of violence lives on in the city and the problems didn't exactly die along with Escobar when the law caught up with him in 93. But it's there, in the city of Medellin, that I met a girl named Stephanie while I was traveling around South America. Steph was from Canada, on a similar sort of rolling vacation as I was, and there was this almost instant chemistry between us that ended with me asking her out. We drank cheap Colombian beers, compared traveling tattoos, she definitely won with her traditional tippy-tap Filipino tribal piece, and generally

just had ourselves a great time. But when it came to the end of the night, we were put in a rather precarious position. You see, that old legacy of violence and suspicion means that in a city like Midijin, you can't get anywhere without the right credentials. And as a result, neither of us were allowed any guests in our respective hostels. So we thought on our feet and decided the night was warm enough for us to spend it in one of Midijin's public parks. So, we spot what seemed like a nice enough place to lay down. Only as we're walking over, we see these four Colombian guys hanging out on a bench. No reason to be suspicious, right? I mean, it was a nice enough night, and the South America idea of a late night is totally different to ours, so not everyone hanging out past midnight is some kind

of reprobate. I suppose that goes for the states too, but I digress. So me and Steph are sitting there for a few minutes when one of the guys from the bench comes over to talk to us. My Spanish is still embarrassingly dire at that time, but I knew enough to know that he was asking for a cigarette. I told him I didn't smoke, no fumo lo siento, but he carried on asking for stuff like money, then other things with words I didn't understand. I kept saying, lo siento, lo siento, tengo nada, tengo nada, but he just won't give it up. He keeps talking to us, then spits out something mean sounding in Steph's direction. So at that point, I really take issue and I have enough Dutch courage to tell him to get effed before I lead Steph off to another spot further away from them.

I'll spare you the finer details of what followed, but needless to say, Steph and I ended up having a little cuddle, shall we say, until we heard and saw something that almost scared us half to death. A police siren and flashing lights, and it was just a few feet away near the boundary of the parkland. Steph quickly pulled her dress back on and we attempted to make ourselves as presentable as possible as the cop car screeches to a stop. Two guys jump out and they come jogging over to us. How they knew we were there I don't know but I figured the guy asking for smokes had called them and has a kind of screw you for not being generous to us.

I'm on the verge of a full-on freakout as all I can think is I'm going to end up in a Colombian jail and that's going to be the end of it for me. Colombia has some of the worst prisons in all of South America and to no offense to our Latin cousins, but that's really saying something. What's worse, I didn't have the money to pay a fine or a bribe, so there was absolutely zero chance of me talking my way out of it. But still, I didn't really have a choice. The best I could hope for was to pull off a speech skill 100, so I got down to it. As this little Colombian cop, I don't even say that to be mean, the guy was literally no smaller than 5'4", is shining his flashlight in my face, I'm just pouring this stream of bilingual, apologetic consciousness that probably sounded something like, Dude, lo siento, seriously, no borrachos, han cansado, just tired, I'm sorry. I swear to God.

But all the cop does is scold us in Spanish, talking so fast that I can barely understand a word. Steph is like welling up with tears at this point, as she too obviously thinks she's about to be arrested. All I could do was shut up and let the cop burn off whatever angry energy he had and just pray he didn't drag us both off to jail there and then. I just hit him with a lo siento, no entiendo until he finally calms down and pulls his smartphone out of his police vest thing. When I see he's pulling up

google translate, I know something isn't quite right. If he really was just going to throw the cuffs on us, he'd have done it already, right? So what are we about to type out? I'll never forget what came next and how I foolishly tried to anticipate his words without stopping to consider the context. First thing he typed was translated, these men, and pointed over to where the cigarette guy and his friends had been. I look over, expecting to see them looking all smug, but there's no one there, and it dawns on me that they'd beat feet as soon as they'd seen the cops arrive. I go to say something like, yeah, I know they called you, I'm sorry, but the cop cuts me off with a little sock puppet hand gesture, clamping the thing's mouth shut as if to say be quiet.

So I do as I'm told and carry on watching him type. These men, he continued, are very dangerous. You must leave now, or they will come back and... The cop stopped for a second, like he was trying to find the right word, then wrote, They will come back and violate the girl. Understand? My chin is dusting the floor at this point. Like I had no idea we were in that much danger and right before I can say anything,

the guy types, they are known to us. They have done things before, they will do things again. Again, we just nod, too stunned by how dumb we'd been to really be relieved that we weren't in any trouble. The cop then types out, don't come back here during the night again, shows us the message, then escorts us to the well-lit street nearby. As you can imagine, that whole thing really killed the mood. And even though I walked Steph back to her hostel, there was never any talk of me getting inside to continue where we left off.

I saw her a few more times before she moved on to Argentina and yes, we did conclude some unfinished business, even kept in touch for a while after I returned to the US. But you can bet your bottom dollar I didn't go anywhere near any poorly lit places in Medellin after the remainder of my stay. I'd learned my lesson, and I learned it good. 6 years ago I flew over the Atlantic to South Africa for my first ever safari. I've always had a fascination with Africa and the wildlife of the Serengeti, one that actually stems from being obsessed with the Lion King when I was a kid. I had that Elton John soundtrack on cassette tape too and I used to annoy my mom by belting out Circle of Life every time we drove anywhere. But over time, that love for Simba and friends evolved and matured and soon I was reading books on Maasai culture. It got to the point where I was fixated on the idea of traveling

to Africa, and while my sorority sisters talked about visiting the beaches of Bali or the Bahamas after they graduated, my heart was set on the Serengeti. It took me years to be able to afford the flights, accommodation, and in-country transportation, but eventually I had a good enough job and a padded enough bank account to be able to afford my dream trip to South Africa, and it was every bit as amazing as I imagined. I spent a whole week on various jeep safaris, hanging out of a 4x4 with a pair of binoculars, and let me tell you, even at a distance, just knowing you're looking at an actual lion is a serious adrenaline rush.

On one of the safaris, a nice Canadian guy mentioned how incredible an experience it was, but lamented that he couldn't just get a little closer to some of the wildlife. Our guide reminded us that even at 200 meters away, some of the wildlife we were admiring could close the distance in just a matter of seconds. It was every bit as humbling as I expected, like I've never felt quite so vulnerable in all my life, even in the relatively safe confines of the various jeeps I traveled in. But that feeling was nothing compared to what I felt when I decided to take a very different kind of safari. I first started properly considering an air safari after I landed in Johannesburg and began to see various commercials for them. I'd never really been interested until I spoke to someone on one of my jeep safaris that talked about air tours like they

were God's gift to naturalists. According to her, air safaris were by far the best way to see the wildlife and she'd go on an air safari every time if she could only afford it. Apparently the animals don't react in quite the same way to the buzzing of an overhead aircraft as they do to a loud, clearly visible jeep, and she mentioned that the best way to get unfettered views of the animals acting completely naturally was with an air safari. That settled it for me. It didn't matter if it'd take a chunk out of my budget, I needed to get on that air safari to

experience the same rush that she had. I ended up exchanging emails with a representative from one particular air safari company who promised me an extensive tour at a very reasonable price. A few thousand dollars later, I was meeting up with a bush pilot on this little airstrip in the middle of nowhere and staring at the single-engine propeller plane that we'd be flying around the Serengeti. The battered old thing looked like it'd be like 20 or 30 years old, but the pilot assured me that she was the most reliable aircraft in their inventory and that she'd never failed him yet. I was a little apprehensive but since he seemed so confident in the plane's abilities,

I saw no reason to disbelieve him. If he didn't think it was safe, surely he'd be the first person to refuse to fly it, right? So with that in mind, I climbed into the passenger side of the prop plane and off we went into the skies above the Serengeti. At first it was everything I'd hoped for and more. The plane flew low and slow enough for us to get some frankly incredible views of the animals and I was amazed that they didn't react more than they did to some big metal bird in the sky buzzing over their heads. Only the younger animals in each herd seemed to pay any attention to us. All the while, moms continued to graze like, chill, we see these things all the time. Sometimes we'd fly up just a little higher than lean into a gentle turn that allowed us to circle any herd that I took an interest in, giving me a full-on bird's eye view. I'll admit it was a

little less personal than the jeep safaris. We didn't quite get the same adrenaline hit but little did I know I was about to get a lifetime's worth of adrenaline in just a few short minutes. About 20 minutes into the flight we were circling over this herd of elephants with the steady droning of the plane's engine buzzing in our ears. Then suddenly, the buzzing stopped. It didn't just stop dead either. There was a stuttering, start-stop rattling sound as the engine tried to keep itself going, but then it just gave out altogether. I looked at the pilot, completely baffled, but he waved away my concerns while thumbing the plane's ignition, making out like it happened all the time and nothing was to worry about. I've stalled my car in traffic before,

slightly embarrassing but nothing to worry about, so I figured what we were going through was the aviation equivalent of just that. Irritating at best, scary at worst, but still nothing to actually worry about. Yet as I'm waiting for the engine to whir back into life from the pilot's repeated attempt to restart it, it dawns on me that this isn't some run-of-the-mill mechanical problem. The engine had died, and it wasn't coming back to life. And that horrifying fact became obvious once the pilot stopped trying to restart the engine. How I managed to avoid a complete mental breakdown, I don't know. But as the pilot turned to me and said, we're going to have to land, I just heard, we're going to crash.

I remember wanting to ask him if we were going to die, but the words just wouldn't come out. I just stayed quiet as the pilot talked me through what we were about to die, but the words just wouldn't come out. I just stayed quiet as the pilot talked me through what we were about to do. We're not going to crash, don't worry, but this is going to be a bumpy landing, okay? Again, I couldn't say it, but at the time, I was convinced it was the end. And when I realized that, this weird feeling of calm came over me. This bizarre acceptance and all of a sudden, I found I was completely calm. It was like there was no point worrying about something that I was doomed to face. We were going down and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it other than brace for impact.

The only thought I had left by the time we began to drop altitude was hoping that it would be quick, that we wouldn't burn to death before the vultures devoured whatever charred mess was left. At 200 feet I was concentrating on my breathing, trying to keep calm as the trees and foliage below got bigger and bigger. At 100 feet I began shaking unlike anything I've ever experienced before. I mean think less nervous shaking and more terrified vibration. I turned to ask the pilot something and I remember him barking back, shut up and let me think woman.

It was the kind of comment that would have me clapping back in any normal situation, but in a dead engine prop plane over the African bush, I decided to just take it on the chin. At 50 feet, the pilot suddenly shouted, hold on, then our nose tilted down slightly and he began to bring us in for the emergency landing. I remember just gripping onto this little handle in the cockpit, but I couldn't watch, so I decided to just shut my eyes and hope for the best. Then wham.

We hit the dirt hard, but instead of rolling over or crashing, I could feel the landing gear of the plane rumbling against the earth. The plane was shaking like a leaf and I was convinced it was about to just fall apart at any moment, but somehow it didn't. I heard the pilot shouting, Come on girl, come on, you can do it. As he talked to the plane, then out of nowhere he just started whooping and hollering in celebration. It didn't feel like we were safe, but the pilot evidently knew that the worst was over and that we weren't going to just explode in a ball of flame.

When we finally came to a complete stop, the pilot started laughing maniacally, kissing the dash of the plane and telling me, I told you she hadn't let me down yet. I was in just complete, total shock, thinking, oh my Jesus Christ, I just survived a plane crash. I literally just survived a freaking plane crash. And that's when the euphoria hit. I'm still shaking, but I'm turning to the pilot, high-fiving him, telling him he's the man. It was the most intense feeling of my entire life and one I'll never, ever forget. We were pretty banged up but we were otherwise okay. It was nothing short of a miracle. But we weren't quite out of trouble yet.

Once the euphoria died down we realized we were stranded in the middle of the Serengeti and our crash had attracted an awful lot of attention. Now most animals would have literally run a mile to get away from the big metal bird that came crashing down to earth, but not all of them. Some were attracted to the chaos and the destruction and it led to my closest encounter with any animal in all of Africa. We were quite easily able to relay our rough coordinates to the rescue team, and the pilot had a few flares that he could light and throw out on the ground if it got dark, so it's not like we were going to be stuck there for a frighteningly long length of time.

But even the 90 minutes or so that we had to wait seemed like an eternity, because we totally were exposed to all of the wildlife the Serengeti had to throw at us. We got kinda lucky in the end I think, but we still had a rather close encounter that frankly scared the life out of me. When you think of the scariest animals in Africa, you'd tend to think lions, maybe hippos, definitely snakes and spiders. I doubt many people's first answer would be hyenas, but you can bet your butt that that's my answer after a pack of them wandered within just 50 feet to get a look at us. People say they laugh, right? How the hyuk hyuk sound that they make is kind of

like a person laughing. Let me tell you, once you hear that sound with your own ears, it sounds nothing like laughter. It's terrifying. I remember jumping back in the cockpit of the crashed plane like, there's hyenas over there. The pilot was taking a freaking nap, but woke up to show me the pistol he kept in the same place as the flares. Let me know if they get close and I'll give them a fright, okay? Now try and relax. Try and relax, he tells me. Try to relax with a gang of baying hyenas just a few feet away.

If ever there was a clear sign that that bush pilot was completely insane, it was that. But I still owed him my life, so you can bet I didn't say squat to him. Not long after I heard the distinct sound of an engine in the distance and the plane's radio buzzed into life. It was the rescue team, having driven as fast as they could for almost a hundred miles to reach us and I'd never been so happy to see another human being in my whole life. They drove us back to civilization and I ate the single best meal of my life with a pilot at this little roadside diner. He asked for two orders of bunny chow which turned out to be an entire loaf of bread stuffed with curry and as it turned out,

a bunny chow and several beers are exactly what a person needs after surviving a small scale plane crash in the middle of Africa. To be continued... do a little traveling around Southeast Asia. I'm not some trust fund baby and the only reason I had the money was because my dad had died in my senior year. It was a mammoth task just to ensure that the grief didn't affect my studies too much so by the time I graduated, a long vacation was sorely needed. So a few days after I arrived in Bangkok, I was exploring the Khao San Road when I bumped into a bunch of other Americans. I know I was supposed to be soaking up in ancient eastern culture but,

my god, if it wasn't good to hear some familiar accents that far away from home. But as much as it was nice to meet up with those guys, they were way too crazy for me to party with. All I wanted was a few beers and some Thai street food. But those crazy leathernecks were trying to take themselves out by vodka while chasing snake blood. And that wasn't code for anything either. They were literally looking for a place that would let them eat a snake's still beating heart before downing a shot of its blood. Like I said, way too crazy for me. So when we bumped into a Canadian dude who was working more at my pace, I said my goodbyes to the leathernecks who were headed to some

crazy strip club, while me and a Canadian guy moved on to somewhere much more chill. We found this little sports bar, got talking hockey, and ended up chatting with these two hot South African girls. I'm working on one, he's working on the other and at one point, one of the girls invites me into the little smoking area for a cigarette. I don't smoke but I sure followed to keep up the momentum so we ended up chatting and flirting out front of this little sports bar. Right up until we heard the scream. Obviously, our conversation ceases immediately and we're both looking around to try and see where the scream came from, and it didn't take us long to find out. Because just across the street, clear as day, is this Thai guy and he's punching some black girl in the face over and over again. And what's worse, no one was doing

a thing about it, they're just walking past pretending it isn't happening. Now I realize that not only should I do something, but I'm presented with a golden opportunity to impress this South African girl by being a genuine white knight. So I give her my beard a hold and I run over and try to break up what was a very one-sided fight. I'm all like, hey, what's going on, man? She's a girl, you can't hit a girl like that. He lets her go, she runs away, and now it's just me and this guy with almost everyone in the street staring at us waiting for me to do something. I lower my voice, adopt a slightly more respectful tone and tell him, look man, you can't just hit girls like that. But the guy just steps to me, this grin on

his face as I realize the bouncers from this nearby bar, as well as a handful of tuk-tuk drivers, are all walking over to encircle us. It's only then that I realized there was a good reason why no one had tried to stop this guy from hitting that girl. He was somebody. Somebody well known to locals and tourists alike. He was someone bad. You don't know who I am, do you? The guy said in alarmingly perfect English. Most Thai people know at least a little English so they're able to corral tourists but it's heavily accented. But this guy talked with what I can only describe as a British accent, like he was that well spoken. I just told him no, not exactly the truth but it was more like I just needed to see where the situation was headed. Then as I'm eyeing this guy's back up which had just materialized out of nowhere, the man himself takes a step forward,

put his hand around me so he's grabbing the back of my neck, then draws his fist back in preparation to punch me. Now I'm not exactly some MMA master but I did attend some jiu jitsu classes in high school so I knew enough to be able to block the punch by dropping my head and raising both hands flat to my forehead. I follow up by shoving him away from me and then trying to back up to get out of there. But bang, someone behind or to the side of me throws a sucker punch and I just felt my knees buckle out from under me. Next thing I know, I'm being helped into some other bar by some guys who'd obviously seen me getting destroyed.

They're trying to hold me up and they're trying to walk me behind a bar, probably to give me some first aid and a back office or something. I'm hazy, beyond belief, but I'm grateful enough to the guys helping me that I try to turn a little to thank them and that's when I see it's the same guys who had just knocked me out in the first place. They weren't holding me tight to keep me up steady, they were holding me so I couldn't get away. They wanted to get me in the back of that bar alright but I suddenly realized that it probably wasn't for anything good. So I start to buck and wriggle trying to escape their grip. More punches come in. I start screaming for help and I turn to look at all the customers trying to see if any of them will help me. But then again, it was just like when that girl was getting punched. All these

faces, western and Thai alike, and they're either just silently staring or acting like nothing is happening at all. I've never been as scared as that in all my life, man. It's one thing having something scary happen to you, but it's another when all kinds of people can see it, but are either too scared or too apathetic to do anything about it. That's a special kind of terror right there, and it comes with this… this feeling of doom. I don't know how else to describe it. Like you're condemned, like you're a dead man walking. Then right as they get behind the bar, right when they pry my grip off the bar hatch, I hear this oddly familiar voice shouting, Hey, get your hands off that man!

I look up, and it's the Marines I'd been drinking with earlier. They must have been walking past the bar, still in the search for snake blood, and heard all the help screams I was bellowing out. Then, being the kind of people they were, they ran in the direction of the trouble and found me. I know you all probably want to hear about some big bar fight that exploded into action with tables and chairs being thrown as the marines came to my rescue, but fortunately for me, there was no such destruction. Once the marines made it clear that I was with them, I figured the Thai gangster thugs must assume that I was a marine too and

if they ended up beating up or killing a US serviceman, there might have been more trouble for them than what it's worth. So they just let me go, with the gangster dude making out that there had been some kind of mistake. He even apologized to me as I limped out, telling me to come back soon with your friends, drinks are on me. But dear god, I'd never go back there. In fact, I tried to avoid the Khao San road entirely after that. I know it's mostly just friendly business types, giving the younger tourists a fun experience abroad, but there are people down there who live and breathe violence and exploitation, and I think that's

what I want to say to any prospective travelers. Don't treat foreign countries like places you can't be hurt, or where actions don't have consequences. Because as much as I think I did the right thing overall, I know it almost got the life beat out of me, and maybe even worse. In late 2016, the father of British entrepreneur Tim Stokely gave him a loan of £10,000. It wasn't the first time Tim had received a business loan, and as much as he assured his father that he'd return every penny of it, Guy Stokely was skeptical. Out of the handful of loans he'd already given his son, Tim had failed to pay any of them back in full. This is going to be the last one, Guy reportedly told him. It was Tim's last, best

chance, and he was determined not to screw it up. So in November of 2016, Tim founded a website, one designed for use by artists, performers, and content creators of all varieties to provide video clips and photographs to monthly subscribers. Tim's brother Thomas became the company's operating officer, while Guy occupied the rather fitting position of chief finance officer. All that was left to do was come up with a name for the company, and together, they decided to call it OnlyFans. Initially, OnlyFans catered to a small but fairly lucrative clientele.

It didn't exactly make Tim Stokely an overnight millionaire, but it was definitely more successful than any of his previous ventures. However, many of his fellow entrepreneurs noticed the untapped potential of such a business, noting low overhead costs and boundless availability, and it wasn't long before one of them made their move. Two years after the company's founding, Ukrainian-American business magnate Leonid Redvinsky contacted the Stokely family with an offer they couldn't refuse. For an undisclosed sum, Redvinsky acquired a 75% stake in OnlyFans' parent company, effectively gaining complete control of the business. Although the exact amount isn't readily available online, the fact that Tim Lau lives in a gated mansion with a cinema and sauna in Bishop's Stortford, Hertfordshire, we can safely assume it was an obscene amount of money.

But Radvinsky didn't just recognize the company's potential, he had a vision for it. You see, previous to purchasing OnlyFans, Radvinsky had owned and operated the adult-oriented webcam site, MyFreeCams, and given that he understood how lucrative such an industry was, he knew that if he pushed OnlyFans into the explicit direction he had in mind, he had a potential billion-dollar business idea on his hands. By mid-2019, OnlyFans had become one of the primary sources of amateur adult-themed content on the internet. Charging just a 20% fee for all transactions, OnlyFans seemingly took all the selling power out of the hands of the adult industry and put it right into the hands of its users. And as a result, one news outlet noted that OnlyFans has gained a pop culture reputation for being a hive of adult-themed content.

Yet it wasn't until April of 2020 that the website truly exploded, when Beyonce Knowles released a remix of the Megan Thee Stallion song Savage. The remix included the lyric, Pips tick-tock when I dance, on that demon time, she might start an OnlyFans. Listeners rushed to find out what Beyonce was referencing, and what followed was a boom in popularity that no social media site had ever experienced before. CEO Tim Stokely claimed OnlyFans was seeing about 200,000 new users every 24 hours and 7,000 to 8,000 new creators joining every day.

By August, American actress Bella Thorne reportedly earned $1 million in 24 hours after opening a profile on the site, a watershed moment in what had become a burgeoning industry of adult content. As of today, OnlyFans has over 2 million content creators and more than 130 million users, and one of those users is named Kathleen West. 42-year-old Kathleen Kat West met her husband Jeff West at a 2004 Super Bowl party. Jeff was working as a recruiter for the U.S. Army at the time, and after chatting and swapping contact information at the party, the pair began dating. It seems they must have fallen in love pretty quickly because

it only took four months for Jeff to propose marriage. Cat accepted, and the couple tied the knot after traveling from their humble Alabama home to the bright lights of Las Vegas. Their relationship continued to move at a rapid pace with their first child arriving in 2005. And although Jeff's job took him all over the deep south, their nomadic lifestyle didn't seem to dampen their romance. and for a long, long time, Kat and Jeff were still very much in love. In 2014, the West moved to a small Alabama city of about 15,000 known as Calera. Jeff had retired from the army by this point, but soon found work as a campus police officer at the nearby Birmingham Southern College. The only trouble was, the job didn't bring in nearly as much income as his recruiter's position did,

leaving the young family's finances with a sizable hole in it. But around 18 months after the move, Cat had an idea to bring in a second income for the family after hearing of a little website known as OnlyFans. She started up a profile under the username KittyKatWest, and over the weeks and months that followed, found herself garnering a few hundred subscribers from the risque photos she posted. But without doubt, the most lucrative part of her new modeling gig was the special requests she'd received from followers. If Kat dressed, posed, or behaved in a specific way, certain subscribers would tip her double, sometimes even triple their subscription amount.

It seems at first Jeff was more than happy to help her bring in that second income, and even took some of the more revealing photos himself. Which makes what happened next, and the ultimate explanation for it, make very little sense at all. Cut to the night of January 12th, 2018. Jeff and Kat were out on a date, something they did regularly as a way of keeping their marriage fresh and healthy, while the couple's 12-year-old daughter, Logan, was spending the night at Jeff's parents' place. Like most of their date nights, the couple attended a fancy dinner at an upmarket restaurant, drinking multiple bottles

of wine in the process. At around 8.45pm, Kat and Jeff stopped by a liquor store and were filmed by the establishment's security cameras purchasing additional bottles of alcohol. When they arrived back home, they were carried on drinking for a while with Kat changing into some lingerie before asking Jeff to take her picture. What happened between then and the following morning had been hotly disputed by both professional and amateur sleuths alike, but the fact remains that as the sun rose on the 13th of January, a neighbor discovered Kat's lifeless body lying on the sidewalk opposite the West's abode. Lying next to her was a half-empty bottle of liquor, as well as her cell phone.

The cause of death was later determined to be an acute skull fracture caused by a single heavy blow from a blunt object. There was no sign of any lewd interference with her body, although a closer examination revealed that she had recently made love. Her blood alcohol content was 0.23, which is just shy of three times the legal drunk driving limit, so there's no doubt that she was highly intoxicated at the time of her death. As you can imagine, one of the first people the police suspected of being the murderer was Kat's husband, Jeff. He was taken for an interview in the local police precinct that supposedly lasted over five hours, and after his release, those that interviewed him announced that he was cooperating with their investigation.

But the police also investigated a number of suspects they believed Kat had come in contact with via her OnlyFans site, or the several social media pages connected with it. Given the nature of her content, police began to theorize that an obsessive or disgruntled fan might be to blame, and that Kat's work had earned her a stalker that would eventually work up to taking her life. Investigators found very little evidence of any interactions with the homicidal stalker, but an absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, and there's little doubt that Kat had several extremely devoted fans whose interest in her verged into the unhealthy. Regardless, the police decided that Jeff was their best bet and shortly after, he was arrested on suspicion of murder. During his arraignment, the prosecution offered Jeff

what's commonly known as an Alfred plea. This is when a defendant maintains their innocence, but also while admitting that the prosecutor has enough evidence to convict him of the crime in question. Had Jeff accepted, he would have done time served than just a two-year probationary sentence, essentially absolving him of his wife's murder in what the prosecution assumed was a classic crime of passion. This is just about the sweetest deal that any spousal murderer could possibly find in front of them. Yet the idea of allowing the legal system to brand him a man that murdered his wife, that was simply unacceptable to Jeff and he decided to take the case to trial in order to completely clear his name. This means that either Jeff was arrogant to the point of delusion or Jeff really was innocent of Kat's murder. Before his murder trial was due to begin, Jeff was offered yet

another plea deal by the prosecution. But again, this was flatly rejected by a man who was steadfast in his declarations of innocence. Jeff was being advised by his defense attorney that the prosecution's case was flimsy and that they barely had enough for a conviction. But the prosecution had a trick up their sleeve. They asked the judge if an additional last-minute charge could be added to Jeff's rap sheet, one known as reckless manslaughter, that carried a sentence of up to 20 years in prison. They knew that if all the details of the case came out, that it would be almost impossible to convince the jury that what happened that night was outright murder.

But paint the killing as a crime of passion and charge him with a lesser crime and the jury might concur enough for them to land a guilty verdict. It worked and Jeff was convicted and sentenced to 16 years in prison. But the question remains, was Jeff West actually responsible for the death of his wife? Well, not only did Jeff have ample opportunity to commit the crime, but it's difficult to argue against the idea that Kat was doing things both online or offline that could have made Jeff angry, possessive, or overtly jealous. On top of that, the bottle of liquor found near Kat's corpse had Jeff's fingerprints on it That might well be expected, given it was the same one they had purchased just a few hours previously But as the prosecution pointed out, Jeff's fingerprints appeared in an inverted pattern

Indicating that he had held the bottle upside down at some point Possibly during the act of hitting Kat over the head with it. The prosecution also pointed out that the bottle had a sliver of glass missing from it, but this could have just easily been incurred if Kat had tripped and fallen at any point. However, the positioning of the bottle, leaning perfectly at Kat's cell phone, was deeply suspicious, and the prosecution argued that it had been deliberately placed there by Jeff after he'd struck her with it. There was also Jeff's apparent lack of emotion, as one witness put it, upon discovering that his wife's corpse had been found. He didn't ask for any updates or details on her condition,

and this is very inconsistent with commonly agreed upon, innocent behavior. There were also several inconsistencies in Jeff's version of events. Firstly, he told the police that he went to bed alone at around 10.30 that evening. However, a health-related application on his cell phone showed that he was up and moving around just past 11pm. Jeff also says that the next time he awoke was the following morning when his dogs began to bark at the attending police officers in the street outside. Yet a neighbor testified that she saw Jeff pacing back and forth much earlier than the cops showed up, almost as if though he was worried about something. Here's what the police claimed had happened.

They claimed text messages showed that an argument was unfolding on the same night of the murder. Jeff was unhappy with Kat's ever-increasing drinking habits, as well as her increased interactions with her OnlyFans followers. Kat's phone was cracked when her body was found, and while Jeff claims this is from where she fell, homicide detectives assert that it occurred when he tossed her phone out into the street in an act of rage. As she went to retrieve the phone, she took the bottle of alcohol with her in a drunken rage. Jeff followed her out into the street, grabbed the bottle from her, and hit her over the head with it. While Jeff insisted that Kat had simply fallen, police argued that such an impact would have knocked her out cold. But if that was the case, why were there two pools of blood at the crime scene?

Sure, it was feasible that Kat fell, hit her head, stood up, then fell over again, but the prosecution argued this was highly unlikely. Not only that, but the damage done to her skull would have been impossible to achieve through an accidental fall alone, especially when Kat's height was factored into the equation. Therefore, it stands to reason that Jeff had hit her over the head with a bottle, and that this was the blunt force trauma that ended her life. It's a sad reality that many spouses or partners of OnlyFans users have reacted badly to their online presence, and we can understand why irrational possessiveness or jealousy might cause Jeff to act in a violent or controlling manner. But Jeff had absolutely no history of violence. By all accounts, he was an

exemplary soldier with a pristine disciplinary record. Police also failed to find any blood on Jeff's clothes, or any other incriminating tissue for that matter, which amounts to a solid example of what we'd call reasonable doubt. Kat also had a history of falling over whilst intoxicated, an inevitable result of her love for hard liquor and six-inch heels. And while it's not certain that a fall killed her, it's not an overly outrageous explanation. It's also very possible that Kat may have picked up one or two obsessive fans as a result of her online presence. She was posting pictures on OnlyFans for years and engaged with scores of users to fulfill personal requests or one-to-one interactions. It seems much more likely that one of these users could

be overwhelmed with jealousy, given Kat's marital status, especially since Jeff was apparently just fine with Kat's online activity, so much so that he participated in the creation of it. Is it possible that some maniacal online stalker managed to catch Kat standing drunk in the street, then managed to kill her in a way that a completely innocent man could be implicated. The horrifying thing about this case is that's very, very possible. So no matter how you look at it, and as unjust and tragic as it may be, having an OnlyFans account may well have been a direct contributor to a woman's brutal and to me, bartending is about so much more than just serving drinks. It's about community.

So you can only imagine how heartbroken I was when the pandemic hit and we were basically forced to just close our doors, indefinitely. I tried to find other sources of income. I even tried running a cocktail delivery service for a while. I did okay, but just not nearly enough to live comfortably. I was looking at having to sell my car, pawn a guitar or two, but the final straw came when it looked like I might have to put my dog up for adoption. I can put up with a lot of nonsense, man, but the idea of having to take Ripper to the pound? Never.

I just couldn't. That's when I got desperate. Desperate enough to consider something pretty drastic. To make it clear, I'm a guy in my late 20s, not completely awful looking, but definitely not Brad Pitt. So I'm sure it'll come as no surprise to many of you when I say that my financial salvation came when I started a, yep, you sure could guess it, an OnlyFans account. It all started when I heard two of my friends talking about dad bods. Dad bods, I remember saying. You'd for real prefer a beer gut to a six pack? Okay, not like a beer gut, she said with a giggle, but like, I don't

know, like the slightly out of shape look, it just feels real. And besides, gym rats just don't seem fun, you know? Dadbots are like, chill. That was probably some bad phrasing on my part, but you get the picture. The whole dadbot thing had been around for a while. But when I told the girl she must have something of a niche interest, she just laughed. Nope, it's way more popular than you think. And she brings up this OnlyFans profile of some Nick Offerman looking dude who had like a ton of posts up, all with a buttload of likes and comments. This guy makes thousands of dollars a month,

his profile is free to sub too, but he does a bunch of request stuff too. Watch. I'm like, no, no, no, no, no, no. Thinking she's about to show me this guy's junk or whatever, but no. Apparently the guy did like tuck you in videos or good morning, sweetie videos where he pretends to wake up next to you before offering you breakfast and stuff. It was the tamest adult content imaginable, legitimately PG-13 stuff, and he was charging upwards of $50 for a personalized video. The whole rest of my shift, I kept thinking about that guy, thinking how happy he must be to get all this money, and his following was so wholesome too. What's not to like about a setup like that? Sure, I bet there was some steamier stuff behind a paywall somewhere, but come on, a few thousand bucks a month just to tell some girl to sleep well?

Why couldn't I get a piece of that sweet, sweet OnlyFans money? But nah, I'm not that guy, or at least I wasn't. I had all the confidence of two-day-old fawn back then, but then again, I suppose desperation drives us to do stuff out of the ordinary. It was pretty surreal setting up the account. Like I had to come up with a fake name and a tractive username, I had to take a display picture selfie and banner picture. It was a whole thing. I was doubting myself the entire time, but I still went and did it, and since all the pictures were as anonymous as I could make them, those masks helped to protect more than just my breathing, I suppose, I wasn't all that concerned about getting found out. Besides, that would pretty much be the end of the whole thing.

It wasn't like I was going to actually get any followers or anything, right? Right? Well, wrong. Because maybe three days after, just when I was starting to forget about the whole thing, I get an email notification from OnlyFans that says, like, user 7876 is now following you, just to be as generic as possible. I'd set up my sub-fee to $4.99, then when I checked the payout section, boom, like $4 was headed into my back account at the end of the month as an upfront charge. I also had a direct message that just read,

Loving your pictures. Can't wait to see more. X. I couldn't tell who the person was. There was no bio on their account, nothing to even clue me into if they were male or female, but still. I just reply, thank you so much. If you know anyone who might enjoy my content, please share my profile with them. I get a will do in return. Then that's that. A few days later, I get another sub, then another, and by the end of the week I have a grand total of 10. Loyal but totally

anonymous subscribers. The extra $40 a month was paying for most of Ripper's dog food by that point. Not the good stuff, but I didn't have to consider giving him up anymore, and that meant you can bet your butt I carried on posting. If the only way was up, then up I was going. By the end of my sixth week of OnlyFans, I had just short of 50 followers and was making just under $200 a month, and I put that down to solely me opening myself up to special requests. A lot of them came in the form of daddy stuff, which is undeniably kinky, but still mostly just sweet and affectionate. I didn't have a

problem with it at all and once I'd gotten a little confidence under my belt, I'd go so far as to say that I got pretty good at it. But as it turned out, the real money was in a kind of domination that was considerably less wholesome. Some people didn't want me to just be nice to them, they wanted me to be really, really mean. I remember the first time I started to feel really disillusioned with the whole thing. One special request wanted me to make a video where I basically just downright was abusive. Then when I read that they wanted me to call them all kinds of slurs, I just felt gross. It was the first time I'd had actual confirmation that some of my subscribers were gay guys, but that wasn't really it. It was the things they wanted me to call them.

They're what made me feel deeply uncomfortable. I replied to the DM saying, sorry, I can't do that. Is there anything else I can work in for you? But no. The reply was almost instant, and it consisted of them just doubling the dollar amount they were offering. The first time they did that, I actually got a little offended. Did they honestly think that I just caved because they flashed some cash? It was about principle, not making money. So you can guess how straight up gross I felt when they threw a four-figure amount at me. And I... I feel gross just typing this, but yeah, I accept it. I called them some of the most despicable things that have ever come out of my mouth.

And you know, I did a pretty good job of it too. I wanted that money, and it's honestly shameful how quickly I abandoned my principles. I felt bad, really bad, for like a few days, but when another offer came in from a different user asking the same thing for the same price, I just couldn't say no. The bar wasn't even paying us any sort of unemployment anymore. We were like three months into lockdown and the money just sort of dried up. So by then, whether I liked it or not, I was almost entirely dependent on OnlyFans for my income. And when the requests got worse, I had little choice but to fulfill them. Looking back, I shouldn't have let it escalate. I could have kept things at the level they were at and still live pretty comfortably until the New York City bar scene opened up again.

But no. My greed took over and at one point, I bought an entire pack of wet Italian sausage just so a guy could imagine what his junk would look like after I stamped on it in steel-toed work boots. I thought this was as bad as things would get. I was wrong. The redline event for me was getting a follower from another user827484-style account, the anonymous kind you always get the weirdest DMs or requests from. The guy threw an obscene dollar amount at me,

but also mentioned that some of that money was for procuring materials, as he put it. Long story short, this person wanted me to head down to an apartment building where a Hispanic lady was selling puppies. I was to go down there, pick one up, then bring it back to my apartment. I asked why but they wouldn't tell me. They just gave me some spiel about being genuine and being a huge source of potential income in the future. But this was a puppy. Nothing good could have come out of mixing only fans and baby animals. And what do you know? I was right. I won't go into too much detail about what this user wanted me to do, but it was some of the most evil, heinous stuff

I'd ever heard. They wanted me to hurt the puppy. Not just kill it. Hurt it. Over the course of days, maybe even weeks from some of the stuff that they were DMing me. When I outright denied their request, the threats began. Whenever I blocked an account, another one would pop up and pay the sub fee, knowing it would be returned when I inevitably blocked them. And by the time I started getting scared that this person or group of people I could never tell would get a hold of my contact details, I had to be brave enough to just click that little delete profile button and face the music. So, I'm currently living with my mom and her boyfriend out here in New Jersey. I can't actually describe how much it sucks to be living in a garage with my 30th

birthday fast approaching, but I also know my life could be so much worse. Every time I miss Williamsburg, every time I miss having my bank account being padded for next to no work at all, I just look over at Ripper, give him a pat and think, yeah, COVID has sucked, it's ruined a lot of lives including mine, but at least I have my pupper. The End In September of 2020, a 20-year-old Australian university student posted a harrowing personal account to the popular social media site Reddit. In it, she detailed the terrifying ordeal she'd been subjected to after posting intimate pictures of herself on a social media page known as OnlyFans. One involving obsessive stalking, internet loopholes, and ultimately,

a clear and present threat to her life. Only through a completely anonymous throwaway account did she feel safe enough to share her story, adding that her local police force had finally taken action against the person responsible. But even then, the girl made it adding that her local police force had finally taken action against the person responsible. But even then, the girl made it clear that her complaints should have been taken seriously long before she was in any imminent danger. According to the girl, the incidents all started after she moved back with her parents during the summer break. The girl was particularly excited to be home as the family had just bought a new puppy. By all accounts, the girl was having a ball getting to know her new furry friend.

But as anyone who's ever had a puppy will tell you, to say they can be erratic would be the understatement of the century. One night, the girl awoke to hear her puppy yelping at the back door. They were in the middle of potty training but the pup didn't quite have the hang of it yet. So she climbed out of bed, put on her slippers and went downstairs to let the dog out. She says it was as late as 2am and there didn't seem to be another soul around as she stepped down into the night. But she soon found that she wasn't entirely alone. I saw this figure in a car, she said.

I could tell they were looking at me, but it was pitch black outside, and I couldn't make out their face. I felt a bit uneasy, but I didn't really think anything of it. Only when I go back inside, the car started up and followed me up my driveway. The terror of such an experience is undeniable, and even though the girl was so close to home, there's no denying that being out alone in the middle of the night made her very vulnerable indeed. I was terrified, the girl added. I sprinted back inside and locked the door,

and kept an eye out for them in case they tried to break in. But as far as I know, they just backed out of our driveway and left. When she woke up the following morning, after a terrible night of restless sleep and deep concern, the girl found an envelope inside her parents' letterbox. The envelope contained not only 20 Australian dollars in cash, but also her OnlyFans username. I thought long and hard about how he could have found my parents' address, the girl said, and I worked out that the problems didn't start until I shared my Amazon wishlist. OnlyFans and Amazon were both adamant that their security systems prevent leaks like that from taking place.

However, it appeared that wasn't the issue, as third-party sellers are not bound to the same data protection laws as large multinational companies. Although she doesn't know for certain how her stalker got her address, the girl is 90% sure that they got in touch with a third-party seller and obtained her home address in that way. Whether it was money, coercion, or intimidation that caused the seller to give up the info is another question entirely, but the fact remains that it's the most likely of all explanations. After that, when I moved back to the college town where I was studying, I stopped posting content, the girl goes on to explain. But somehow my stalker still managed to track me down. The girl said she basically closed down her OnlyFans account and started a YouTube account because of how unsafe the former felt. Her first big vlogging project was due to be a shopping trip to a local mall,

but when she got to her car to depart for the day, she found it had been ransacked. The vlogging camera was missing too, she said. I know, it's my fault for leaving it in the car, but I was using it the night before and since I lived in a gated area, I didn't think I would be unsafe. Yet she added that the camera was inside of her glove box and contained an SD card with unreleased photos and videos on it. It was almost like someone knew it was there, but as bad as that was, it only got weirder from there. She eventually contacted her building security personnel, asking if they could review security camera footage from the previous few nights. And it was through this that not only did she see a man break into her car and ignore

other cars in the parking lot, but she also had proof she was being deliberately singled out for targeted harassment. After they got the camera, they walked around the duplex until stopping near my window, the girl wrote. My bedroom faces an outside street and the blinds are broken so it's very easy to see in. I have a curtain, but it doesn't cover my window all the way. Look, what I'm trying to say is, this person watched me sleep for an hour or so. I have no idea why they didn't try to break in, but thank God they didn't. The woman explained her camera was later recovered at a nearby second-hand store, suggesting whoever is stalking her has a prior history of criminality.

However, she added that the camera's memory card was missing. I know he kept it as some kind of trophy, I just know it, she added, and has since moved and hopes her stalker hasn't followed. I believe the police are still trying to track them down, but I have broken my lease and moved to a new place so hopefully this will keep me safe. But what's so scary about the girl's story is that it seems like only a matter of time before this stalker decides to take things further. Unless they're caught, stalkers will only ever escalate their activities until their obsession reaches a deadly and permanent end. Based in Richmond, Texas, 33-year-old Instagram influencer and freelance model, Janae Gagne, had the kind of lifestyle that many can only dream of having. Having amassed over 2 million followers on her various social

media profiles, Gagné reportedly netted a six-figure income as a result of her many sponsorship and endorsement deals. Using the pseudonym Mercedes Moore, Gagné's social media followers included the likes of Cardi B, Megan Thee Stallion, Snoop Dogg, and Meek Mill, meaning that by August of 2020, she was arguably one of the most famous social media influencers on the planet. Like many of her peers, being introduced to the website OnlyFans presented Gagné with a lucrative opportunity. Interact even more intimately with her gargantuan online following, whilst also opening up a potentially massive new revenue stream. But according to Janae's father, Mark, the titanic amount of attention she received

brought just as many problems as it did benefits. We kept her real private. Not even some of her friends knew her real name, they just called her Mercedes. I moved my daughter into new apartments three times because of my insecurities, he said late last year. The sheer number of people following her online had scared me, he continued. Some of them followed her because they admired her, loved her even, but some were crazy and obsessed. It was just obviously unhealthy. So at around 4pm on Sunday, August 29th of 2020, when Mark Gagné hadn't heard from his daughter for almost 48 hours, he decided to stop by her home in Cortland Apartments to check on her. They pulled up, knocked on the door, but no one answered. Mark Gagné then pulled out his cell phone and gave his daughter a call, swearing he

could almost hear it vibrating from somewhere inside. That's when he heard movement coming from inside the house. He hadn't heard from his daughter in days, and no one was answering the door to her apartment. So who was moving around inside? Mark Gagné said that he began to suspect something was horribly, horribly wrong, so in the next instant, he reeled back and sent his foot flying into the lock, kicking it open in one furious attempt. The sight that greeted him inside instantly broke his heart.

There was his beloved daughter, lying lifeless at the bottom of the stairs. Her apartment had been completely trashed and there appeared to be lipstick graffiti all over the walls of the apartment. Yet before he had a chance to read any of it, Mark Gagné heard a noise coming from upstairs. Mark says that in the heat of the moment, he thought his daughter might have fallen down the stairs and broken her neck. But hearing something coming from upstairs had him bolting up to that floor as fast as his legs could carry him. Only then did he see a man lying in a pool of his own blood, gurgling and choking with a knife stuck in his throat as the life slipped away from him. Mark demanded answers from the dying man, but it was too late. He passed away just

moments after Janae's father had broken into her home. Yet in a disturbing twist of fate, Mark Gagné wouldn't be plagued by questions for very long. Because after he called 911, he began to read some of the lipstick graffiti that had been scrawled on the walls. I was used for money, read one piece. I should have stayed in Florida, read another. The final piece Mark read was, I wish I never loved her. Sorry to the landlord and the family. He couldn't bring himself to read anymore. Although it appeared that his daughter's murderer had been scrawling over the walls for days, he'd summed up

his feeling and motive in just a few short sentences, and to Mark, it only confirmed that his worst nightmares had come to life. Janae's killer turned out to be a 34-year-old Florida man by the name of Kevin Ocorto. A man with such unhealthy obsession with Janae that he somehow managed to track her down and kill her, all before taking his own life. He did not have any kind of prior arrest record in his home state, but during the subsequent investigation, police tried to establish that he'd had any prior history of mental health issues. I don't even know how he found her, Mark Gagné later said. I guarded my daughter. I wouldn't even

let her friends know where she lived. Police still don't know how or when he got to Texas. There's so much that's still a mystery. The news of her death was broke by a Canadian rapper Tory Lanez who paid tribute to her with a post that read, Rest in Peace Queen. But few of the tributes seemed to address the causes for death. She was very cautious about her surroundings, Janae's mother, Janetta Grover, said. But unfortunately, someone basically was stalking and killed my baby. It's irrefutably horrific and abhorrent that Kevin Ocorto was able to track down and kill such an innocent young woman.

But it's clear that Mark Gagné's fears were justified. No matter how much he tried to keep his daughter safe, the determination her stalkers showed in locating her significantly outweighed their efforts. And somehow, a man who wasn't exceptionally computer literate was about to somehow track down her home address. Some have speculated that the Cortos somehow got hold of Janae's billing information and discovered her real name and address in that way. In which case, OnlyFans has a long way to go before it can truly secure its content creators' privacy and security. So maybe, until then, the risks of having an alluring online presence will outweigh any potential financial reward. To be continued... a few years back now and I've been recognized a grand total of three times because of my tattoos. I keep them covered up in my job because it's the kind that really doesn't like you showing

off ink like that, let alone how badly they'd freak if they knew I had an OnlyFans. The point is, I like to be discreet and my subs for the most part seem to understand that. The first time was about a week after my birthday. I told my subs that it was my birthday month to be discreet whilst still raking in the birthday tips. So although they didn't know exactly when I was born, they knew it was like roughly that time of the year. I had one guy give me a few looks on the subway which isn't totally out of the ordinary if I'm honest, but just before he got off he barely even looked at me as he said happy birthday and called me by my username. Like I said he didn't

make it obvious who he was talking to, he just ghosted immediately after and there was no other interaction. I mean if you're going to get recognized for OnlyFans, you could do way, way worse than that. Second time was by a guy who literally screeched to stop on his bike, pedaled back to look at me, then turned bright red and said, oh my god, then literally zoomed away like I was going to attack him or something. Granted, he could have been just having a moment but trust me, when you have an OnlyFans, you just sort of know where people recognize you from. Anyway, now for the third time and by far the worst time. I don't show my face on my OnlyFans but I did used to show my tattoos, though not anymore. God bless those cute arm sleeve things. So this one time a guy stops, visibly starts checking out my tattoos before

he kind of gasps and looks up at me. I just play it cool like there had been some kind of mistake. There blatantly hadn't and just ignore him while I carry on reading and drinking my coffee. I half expected him to keep moving but he didn't. He sat down next to me and started calling me by my username. I'd never been confronted like that and it didn't exactly put me in the mood to be like, oh hi, yeah it's me. So I continued to deny it while also shooting him this look that tried to say, dude stop, it's me sure but please just shut up. But then he reacts in such a horrid, violent way like, What? You think I'm dumb, huh? You'll take my money? The money I work my butt off for and you won't even acknowledge me in the street?

That was his cue to just go off. And this guy just tore into me while an entire coffee shop and passers-by looked on. I'd rather not give him the satisfaction of repeating what he said or go into detail about how much it hurt my feelings, but I'll put it this way. I spent almost $90 on arm sleeves to cover up my tats and I haven't been recognized since. It really did mess with me for a while though, like the reoccurring thought was, you were lucky he found you in the day.

If that had been the night on some dark street somewhere, I might not have been nearly as lucky, and I might not have walked away at all. First of all, let me say this is not an indictment of OnlyFans. If someone wants to profit from sharing pictures of themselves or their body, that's totally their right and I respect that. I'm not casting judgments on anyone who chooses to do so. But let me be clear, OnlyFans just about ruined my life and I've never even set up a profile. It all kicked off not long after I broke up with a guy I'd been dating for about 3-4 months. As a single mom, it's way harder to get dates than I'd like it to be, but at the same time, I totally understand why someone wouldn't want to raise

a child that isn't theirs. I mean, I wish more guys would be open to it, it's not like I'd never have a kid with them too but it's just a sad fact that it puts guys off when you've got a child from a prior relationship. So you can imagine how excited I was when I met Richard. It's not his real name but I'd rather not attract his attention thank you very much. Having a six-year-old son didn't seem to bother him in the least bit and he even asked a lot of questions about him. I found the whole thing so refreshing and mature that by the time Richard asked me out, I just about bit his arm off accepting the invite. But then the first red flag appeared when he started making comments about my son calling him daddy. That wasn't the red flag in

and of itself, it was more his reactions when I told him, no, my son has a dad and I don't want him confused as he grows up. Richard didn't seem to respect that position whatsoever and actually said some quite personal things regarding my taste in men, as well as the integrity of my son's father. It's a complicated situation, I'll concede that, but Richard's take on the whole thing was frankly disgusting and misogynistic. But given that it was a very unusual setup, I didn't want to give up on him so quickly, not since guys like him seem to be so hard to come by. But then, after two months of clashing, not often I should add, I had to face the music

and accept that if there was a guy out there for me, it certainly wasn't him. I've dated guys for 18 months who took the breakup better than Richard. They're always rough, but I think if I actually told you what Richard did, you'd think that I was making this all up. Needless to say, his reaction totally justified my decisions to end things. End things, and that's exactly how I phrased it too. But that breakup was far from the end of my ordeal with Richard. And you know what? It's kind of my fault too. In fact, it's mostly my fault. Because if I hadn't been so trusting, I wouldn't even be writing this right now. The one big mistake I made was trusting Richard to keep private certain pictures I'd sent him. I think I trusted him because, well, he sent me pictures of him too.

I think that's why there's a lot less nude leaks than there are nudes. It's like Americans and the Russians in the 80s mutually assured destruction. You release mine, well, I'll release yours. But after we broke up, I deleted all of his intimate pictures and I was foolish enough to think that he'd also done the same. Because the next thing I know, I got a message from a friend of mine saying something like, oh, you have an OnlyFans? You go girl. I had to ask her what OnlyFans was, I literally had no idea at the time. She replies like, you're joking right? Was this supposed to be a secret?

Immediately I start googling OnlyFans and as you can imagine, I'm pretty shocked at what I see. The whole website is basically homemade lewd images and for those that aren't familiar and from what I could gather, the girls in question make quite a lot of money too. I mean, I wouldn't say no to an extra two grand a month, but I hadn't set up a profile, had I? I asked my friend to send me anything she's found with my name on it, then what do you know? There's a freaking OnlyFans profile set up in my name, and the whole preview picture in the banner was a raunchy picture that I'd sent. To Richard. The profile said, like, free to subscribe, so I made a dummy user account to sign up,

only to discover that Richard must have uploaded about ten different pictures I'd sent to him, all with these disgusting captions that I'd rather not repeat here. I was angry. So angry. But I didn't get scared until I saw that he'd put up my home address. My actual home address. Apartment number. Postcode.

Everything. It kicked in how much danger I was in. And I just burst into tears thinking that my own selfish actions had exposed my only son to danger. I know it was all Richard, and I know if he was just normal then yeah, it wouldn't have happened. But I'm a mother, I should know better. I'm not some attention-seeking teenager anymore. I just wanted to feel wanted though, surely people can understand that. In the end, I managed to get the profile taken down and I think OnlyFans and other sites like that now make you verify your identity so

stuff like that can't happen again. But what if you manage to get a hold of a girl's ID or something? The system they have doesn't completely eliminate the chance of fake profiles being set up. Like I said at the start, I don't mean to judge anyone who wants to do that kind of thing. I just hope they have their safety and security in mind because, as I think we all know, there are some serious psychos out there. So this might not be directly related to OnlyFans membership, but it definitely scared me. So here goes. I'm a 45-year-old overweight guy from Philly. Never in a million years would anyone want to see me naked.

Maybe they'd pay me to keep my clothes on, but definitely not the other way around. I also work with a revolving door of different offices from all over the east coast, meaning that there's not really a set team I work with and sometimes I can be working with total strangers from day to day. So at one point we're in a group email talking about how we've been handling our projects over the weekend. I said that I've been a little busy responding to my OnlyFans followers and that I'd only found the time to get a little of it finished. Just a throwaway comment, obviously sarcastic, especially if you know me. But then one of the CCs chimes in like, what in God's name is OnlyFans? Someone explains to her what it is and why it's funny and that I might be popular on it. But our coworker just doesn't

seem to get the joke and at one point she asks me, do you really make homemade smut like that? The way she asked me caught me off guard and yes, I'd be lying if I said a little bit of laughter didn't creep out in that moment just from the shock of her asking. I tell her no, that really was just a joke and I think that's the end of the issue. But the following week, my boss gets in touch to ask if I can take part in a Zoom call with some members of upper management. I think this is promotion related, so of course I accept. But as it turned out, they basically tricked me into a disciplinary call that involved them asking a whole bunch of probing questions about, you guessed it, my non-existent OnlyFans account. I tried to explain that it was just a joke, but

they didn't seem interested at all, only that it was damaging to the company that I might have an account. Once I assured them that I didn't, they basically called me a liar and they claimed that the only reason that they dragged me up was because the cops had been in touch. Turns out our humorless little friend had tried to make me out to be some sick freak, even predatorizing children, and had just told the cops to search his name on fans only, to find out what a sick freak I was. I was never all that worried about getting fired since I didn't have an account, but rumors that I was a kitty diddler going around town could have been really bad for my health. Definitely the scariest thing that's ever happened to me, let alone involving

work or the internet. Sveta Kriva A few years ago I was working as a healthcare assistant at the hospital and recently having moved out of my dad's home, I had started renting a small detached home in the countryside. I had one neighbor on this street, a man in his late 30s who I'll call Jake. He was single and lived alone. My first encounter with Jake was when I was moving in. My dad couldn't accompany me on my first day of moving in due to his work schedule so I was unpacking by myself. Jake walked up to me, introduced himself and offered to help with moving my heavy items. I'm a very small woman so I appreciated the help. My first impressions were that he was a very kind, open and polite gentleman.

He chatted to me about his job, told me that he liked to play instruments and write in his spare time. We bonded over both loving the band Tool and we both enjoyed playing the bass. The next day I brought him some beer as a thank you. We bonded over both loving the band Tool and we both enjoyed playing the bass. The next day, I brought him some beer as a thank you. He wasn't in, however, so I left it by his front door and included a thank you note for all the previous help the day prior. Over the next few weeks as I settled in, Jake would pop by, we'd chat about music, discuss shared hobbies, drink beer and occasionally even watch movies together. I was new to the area and didn't have many friends yet so he helped provide some social interaction outside of my job. But as you can already tell, things didn't stay so good.

I got home one evening to see a basket full of flowers on my doorstep and an included card which read that this was from Jake and he wanted to speak with me when I had the time. I walked inside with the basket and I didn't even get a chance to put it down before I heard knocking at my door. It was around 11pm and I wasn't expecting anyone. I looked through the window next to the door to see Jake waving at me. I opened the door and that's the first time I can recall where I started to feel uneasy around him. He asked if I saw the basket and if I liked it. He asked to come in but I said something along the lines of how tired I am after work and that we should speak tomorrow. He didn't say anything for a few seconds before he asked if I would want to grab a coffee with him before work tomorrow. I said sure and closed the door.

That next morning we grabbed coffee at Acosta and that was close to the hospital I worked at. He seemed very excited and giddy. Soon after he asked me to be his girlfriend. I had to decline as we'd only known each other for a few weeks and, well, he was significantly older than me. He suddenly dropped his cheery demeanor and, as if he had become someone else in a matter of seconds, he grabbed his things and left, saying only that he has to go to work. I went to work and tried not to think too much on it. I had to work overtime that night and started heading home at around midnight.

When I pulled up to my home I saw Jake sitting on my doorstep. I really, really didn't want to get out of my car but I did and walked up to him. He started off politely asking if I had thought over his proposal. I said no, that I'm sorry I'm not interested. Once again as if a switch had flipped, he went off on me, calling me spoiled and ungrateful. I was scared at that point and asked him to leave, but he wouldn't. I managed to get my car with him following me and showed him through the window that I'm calling the police. He swore at me and left. I didn't call the police that night.

I gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking that he was just frustrated. One of my biggest regrets is not calling them right then. The next morning I found wildflowers that looked like they were picked from a garden at my front door, as well as a post-it with the word sorry and a sad face drawn on it. At work that day, I was called by the nurse in charge who took me aside saying my boyfriend was here to see me, as it's urgent. She also told me to tell quote-unquote my boyfriend that he should not come to see me at work, especially since I wasn't on break as it's unprofessional. It was Jake. He wanted to ask

me if I had gotten his flowers and message. And I just went off on him. Saying things along the lines of how dare he come to my work, get me in trouble no less, pose as my boyfriend. And all this took place in the canteen. He didn't say anything, didn't apologize. I told him to knock it off and I left. And things only got worse from there. He would often wait for me when I got home, try to bribe me with gifts, more flowers, even went as far and got me a new guitar. I accepted nothing and always left everything where he put them. I eventually broke down to my dad who asked me if I wanted him to speak to Jake. I said no. He offered for me to move back with him, but I had too much pride and declined. My dad was really worried about me. One day everything came to a halt where I came

home to my front door ajar, though not broken. My front room looked absolutely ransacked. I ran to my car and immediately called the police. Nothing was missing, absolutely nothing, but my front room, kitchen, and bedroom were all rummaged through. I told the police I had an inkling it was Jake, so they ended up questioning, but his friend vouched for him and said that they were together that evening so it couldn't have been Jake. I still don't believe that. I tried to tell the police everything that had been happening with Jake and how I was starting to feel very unsafe. However, I had no proof but the notes that he had left me which weren't threatening. So since there was no threat to life or well-being, they literally could not do anything.

My dad helped me clean everything up and I had my locks changed. Jake actually left me alone for a while after that. I started looking for new places to live around that time. Then one evening I had come home, ate some food, showered and went to bed, only to be awoken, I'm not sure exactly when, to somebody standing in my doorway. I didn't move. I remember originally thinking I was having a sleep paralysis episode, but after moving my fingers I realized I was fully awake, with a dark figure clearly standing in my doorway. My phone was under my pillow so I rolled over to my side, pretending to still be asleep and I just waited, with my hand under my pillow and my phone. There was no way I could call the police without alerting the person in my doorway.

Eventually I could hear the footsteps fade and call the police, only telling them my address and that someone just broke into my home and I think that they're still here. I got out of bed, grabbed my keys in my nightstand and got out of the house by going out of the window and bolting to my car. I had on a tank top and shorts, I didn't even have shoes on which made driving horrible. I saw him then when I was pulling out, standing in the kitchen through the window. It was Jake. I had a small essential oil diffuser next to the window that shined enough light to be able to tell who the figure was. I drove as I spoke to the police. I remember just completely detaching from reality. At least that's what it felt like.

I drove to my dad's house. After looking over my felt like, I drove to my dad's house. After looking over my house, the police drove to my dad's home where I was. I told them everything about Jake, how he's been following me, coming to my work, waiting for me when I got home, and now I was 100% sure that he broke into my home and was planning to do god knows what. I was told that they found my front door locked when I got there and went to knock on Jake's door. He answered and looked as if though he had just woken up. They asked him some questions and left him alone. It is so unimaginably hard to prove that you're being stalked in the UK.

I managed to get a restraining order on the grounds of harassment with proof that he had come to my workplace posing as my boyfriend and a co-worker would support me in this as she had overheard our conversation where I had asked him to stop following me. I had also saved some texts that he had sent me where I asked how he got my number and told him to stop contacting me, but he went on to send some vaguely threatening messages along the lines of, I'll be waiting when you come home today, which along with the workplace incident as well as the fact that I had mentioned Jake to the police when my house was broken into, managed to get me my restraining order. I went back to that house once, with my dad and his

friend to gather all of my things. I didn't see Jake that time, or ever again for that matter. I had to transfer workplaces back to my original workplaces I moved back in with my dad. I'm now moved away and live alone again, trying to put the past behind me. But this type of thing definitely messed a little with me. I had to get some therapy and found it difficult to develop friendships, especially romantic relationships. They somewhat ruined that for me. I've not made any new friends since. Never had a boyfriend either. I find it very hard to trust people outside of work colleagues and family. To be continued... Years ago, I moved to follow my boyfriend and to do a PhD in his country.

I won't name the place, but it's an across-the-ocean type of deal. At first, I was very excited. It was a wonderful adventure. Until it wasn't. It's hard to describe the complexity of what I felt. I felt alone, misunderstood, far from my family and friends and even though my boyfriend is wonderful I really felt the weight of not finding any human connection. This could explain why I acted so weird and disconnected from reality in the following story. I'm also a very naive woman

and I like to see the best in people around me. This has been problematic more than a few times but this story is maybe the worst example of where this candid attitude got me. My boyfriend and I are into BDSM. We do it alone, on our own and don't participate in events or anything like that. I do have an account on a website that hosts that kind of stuff. I go there to find new ideas for our sessions and I sometimes but rarely post pictures. No face, no tattoos and I often wear wigs. I get contacted by interested doms once in a while even though I clearly state I'm not free. Usually they send copy-paste messages so I just try to ignore them. Once in a while though I'd get a more personal message and make an effort

to answer that I'm not interested and that I'm in a relationship. This is how my discussion with Nick started. He didn't approach me with a will you be my sub but with curiosity of how I got into this. Stating he was quite new to the domain and was interested in understanding the way of life, so I gladly explained. Explanations turned into discussions. He told me he was in the police and that he investigated drug cartels. He also told me he was married and that he had kids. Interestingly, we had a lot of hobbies in common. A lot. I won't go into details about those hobbies, but they're kind of specific.

Feeling very lonely, combined with the fact that I felt I could trust him because he was married and had kids, I accepted his invitation to start texting on WhatsApp. I want to be clear. My boyfriend knew about this from day one. Plus, we had been talking on this website for almost three months before switching to WhatsApp. I want to be clear, my boyfriend knew about this from day one. Plus, we had been talking on this website for almost three months before switching to WhatsApp. He was very friendly and interested in my day-to-day life. He'd share pictures of his kids and of investigations he was working on. This went on for another three months. Then, one day, he told me he had to interview a suspect close to the town where I lived and asked if we could meet for coffee. I agreed and we met for the first time.

Before anyone panics, my boyfriend was hiking with friends for a few weeks. I texted him but he didn't have signal. Plus, we have a very trusting relationship. He has a lot of girlfriends and back in my country I hung out with a lot of boys and this wasn't weird for us. And back to this first encounter, it felt as if we had known each other for years. We had a great time from the beginning and I was so happy I'd found a friend far from my country. He knew I loved reading thrillers and enjoyed murder investigation videos so he showed me his gear. Handcuffs, sampling kits for small investigations, other restraints, etc.

It didn't feel weird at the moment but afterwards I kind of understood this could have been a way for him to show off what he could do. However, as the night went on after grabbing drinks from a nearby bar, he forced me against a wall and kissed me. I was shocked really and barely managed to push him off me. I told him it was inappropriate, that he was married and that I was in a relationship. He was really sorry and felt ashamed. He told me he felt that there was something between us and I was like, yeah, it's called friendship. I was disappointed and we parted ways.

Days later, after he apologized over and over again, he called me to meet up. He wanted to take me for a ride in his hometown. It's a pretty safe place. He's got a bike and he wants me to enjoy the scenery in this country I barely knew. And I agreed. It's his hometown. It works there. He lives there with his wife and kids. Surely I'll be safe. In short, I wasn't. Again, he kissed me, tried to push for more and in the middle of a park, a park where he brought his children to play on weekends. So I told him to bring me back to the bus station so I could leave. He did and then proceeded to tell me a story about how he

had recently got a drug seller out of hiding by modifying text messages sent by his girlfriend. He basically made me believe that she was cheating on him to get him to confront her and then arresting him. I don't know if it's true. I don't know if it's possible. Due to what had just happened, what I heard was, I can make your boyfriend believe you're cheating on him. And my boyfriend was still on his hike by that time. We did talk once every few days and I told him everything from the moment he had some cell signal. Meanwhile, I was confronting Nick about that. His behavior was really strange as he went from, I'm sorry, I think I'm in love with you,

to, if you tell the cops, who do you think they'll believe? Their colleague or an immigrant? I got scared and tried to cool things down with him. I just felt he could go crazy at any moment. He clearly wasn't used to girls refusing him. At that point, I thought it would be safer for me and my boyfriend to maintain contact with Nick, albeit with less enthusiasm than before. But after understanding how obsessed he was, I blocked him from all platforms where I knew he had an account. But he found me. He sent me my address, asking if I loved living in that particular part of town. I never gave him my address. Guess he could pull some strings at the station to get my info. He even came to visit me at my job. I was so scared I just played it as if though everything was okay.

I told him my boyfriend wanted me to cut ties with him because he was angry about what had happened, which was true, but I also wanted him out of my life. I didn't know how he would react if I told him, however. Nick insisted that I loved him, that I could be his mistress, and that my boyfriend didn't have to know. He was obsessed with me, and he didn't hide it anymore. He told me that he wanted to do things to me, how we'd be a great couple, how he'd father our kids. He went from I'll be husband material to I'll assault you in a matter of seconds. I refused again and again, blocking him, changing my accounts. I got scared when I got calls from unknown numbers. I was terrified when I saw anyone slowing down on a motorcycle close to my apartment.

I was wary of going outside and going to my job. The quarantine was welcome for me, really, and I didn't get any news from him for months. And then I broke my cell phone. I knew I could transfer all my numbers from one phone to the other, but I didn't know it would unblock previously blocked numbers. Days later, I got a message from him. He told me he had divorced his wife, that he still loved me, and that he wanted to marry me. He apologized for making me believe I was only mistress material and that I was worth so much more. He said my boyfriend didn't love me

and that I deserved better and that he was waiting for me. When he saw that I saw his message he said finally I thought you'd never unblock me. Does this mean he had been sending this message over and over again in hopes I'd finally see it? That narcissistic man used all the manipulation tactics he knew. He had told me, before we met in person, how he had learned those skills to toy with criminals, to have them tell the truth and admit to crimes. Fortunately, I had dated manipulative men before and knew the signs. Basically, he wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. He was attractive, rich, interesting, and he knew that. I blocked him again and we moved a few months later. I just hope he doesn't get his hand on this information. I believe Nick's last move was trying to hack

into my Instagram account as I got a notification that someone from his hometown had tried to connect to my account. I just hope that we never meet again. I was backing up the photos on my phone today and I found some which I took the day of the incident. I gave it some thought and decided why not share it on here, being anonymous and all that. Maybe this can even serve as a PSA of sorts, always trusting your gut feeling. Last year I was living by myself at the time before my partner and I moved in together. For some background, my partner used to work very hectic shifts. Sometimes he finished at 5pm, sometimes 6, sometimes 9pm and he would let me know that he'd be dropping by that day, though he usually wouldn't be able to give me a time but at least I knew that he'd be coming by. It was around 8pm and I was upstairs in the bedroom working on an

embroidery project. I had my airpods in so wasn't too aware of what was going on around me. I remember feeling the bed rattle since my bedroom was right above the front door, so whenever someone closed the door, seeing as it was very old and heavy, it always rattled my bed frame and this would usually indicate my partner has arrived. I didn't immediately go downstairs to greet him as I really wanted to finish off the piece of embroidery that I was working on. It was about five minutes before I took out my airpods and proceeded to make my way out of my bedroom and onto the stair landing. I was about to call out for him when I realized he didn't

leave his work jacket or work boots in the entry. He knew full well that I don't like shoes, especially work boots, all over my carpeted floors. I assumed I must have imagined feeling the bed shake. I went back into my bedroom and was about to put my airpods back in when I very distinctly heard a big crash come from downstairs. It sounded like something very heavy was dropped. I freaked out and called my boyfriend's name down from my bedroom doorway. I got no reply, but I sure started feeling heavy boots pacing toward the entryway. I got feeling that something here was very wrong. I turned and grabbed my phone from the bed and bolted to the bathroom, which was the only room in the house with a lock. I called the police as I started hearing those same heavy footsteps make their way up the stairs.

I've never, ever been scared of those creaking sounds coming from the stairs, but it was different then. At the time, it felt as if though I've never heard a scarier sound. As I was on the phone with the police, the only thing I could tell the lady on the phone was my address over and over again. I was more focused on how I was going to get out of there. I wasn't going to wait and see what would happen or who this person was, so I flung open my small bedroom window and feet first slid down onto the lower roof. My adrenaline was so high, I had to momentarily put my phone into my bra, as I had no pockets and needed both of my hands. I just remember hearing the police

dispatcher keep asking over and over if I'm okay and what was happening. I didn't even have time to tell her what I was doing. It felt as though my body had gone into autopilot. Once on the bottom roof, I lowered myself again, now onto the pavement. As I fell right onto my knees no less, I got right up and bolted it down the street. It was completely dark with it being mid-October. The dispatcher was still on the phone when I finally got on it again and I told her whilst running that there was someone in my home and how I just jumped out of the window to get away. I ran for what felt like forever until the lady on the phone said to focus on finding a shop where I could go into and wait for the police. I remembered my boyfriend and told the lady I

needed to call him. I made it to a Tesco Express by then and though she wanted to keep me on the phone, I said that I needed to make sure my partner didn't go into my home and potentially risk running into the other person. I got in contact with my partner who had just finished work, it was around 9pm by then, and was driving to my house. I told him what happened and he instead started heading towards the shop that I was outside of. I felt such relief when he got here. I remember taking a picture of my scratched up knees when I got into the car. For some reason I got very fixated on them. My partner called the police back for me as the shock started setting in and he let them know that he was with me. It took some time before the police finally arrived at my home. I was told my

front door was left wide open and in the living room, the side table had been knocked over. My home wasn't ransacked, but it did look as though someone booked it out of there relatively quickly. Upstairs, my bathroom door was kicked in so hard that the door frame itself was indented in, though nothing was stolen. Once they looked over the place, I was called and told I could return. An ambulance crew was called and they looked me over. They sorted out my knees and did some sort of assessment to see if I was okay mentally and told me to go and see my GP the next morning about my knees. Reports and statements were written up and I stayed with my boyfriend for two weeks after

that. I had to hire someone to fix my door frame along with having a security system installed as I don't think I'd be able to return without it. They never found out who this man was. My neighbors had cameras and all we figured out about this person was that he was a man who just walked right into my home like it was his, zero hesitation. My front door was unlocked as I was expecting my partner to arrive soon. I live in a very safe village and leaving the door unlocked was a common occurrence, though I've never left it unlocked since. I still live here with my partner and two dogs now. The man has never come back though. We have quite obvious cameras around the property, although with visible security company signage. This was easily the most terrifying experience I've had in my life.

It's so hard to describe or tell to people, it's like I wasn't in control of my own body when this was happening. Autopilot went on and all I knew was I needed to get out of there. I'm 57 years old. This is a memory that never goes away, never fades. In 1986, I stopped in Topeka, Kansas on my way back from working in Yellowstone National Park for the summer. My friend had also just graduated from high school a few years before and had moved to Topeka with his parents. I stayed about a week. His parents invited me to stay an extra day for their family reunion before I headed back home. We drove way out into the country for their family reunion in his old beater car and spent all day with his extended family.

In the late afternoon, we made our way back to Topeka in his old beater car with the broken gas gauge. Unfortunately, we ran out of gas. He said we were probably six to seven miles from the nearest gas station. This was pre-cell phone. We were trying to figure out what to do when suddenly a van with no windows pulls over and asks if we need help. When you're young, you think these things just miraculously happened for you. When you're older, you know better. We tell him we ran out of gas.

A friendly enough man offers to take us to the nearest gas station. We get in the van and discover that there is a total of three men in the vehicle. There are no seats in the back. We're just sitting on the floor in what appears to be a work-type, beat-up, older, model, white van when we clearly hear the men discussing doing us harm. The driver says he knows a good place to go. The older man in the passenger seat, eyeing me, agrees. He's in and nods in approval. Only one man sitting near us says he's not in and doesn't want to be involved

in this at all. That he's got a baby now and he's not cool with this. That he doesn't want any part of it. The driver in passenger seat rider said something under their breath I couldn't hear. There was an angry silence while the driver thought this over. In my mind I prayed one word. Help. My mind felt like I was stuttering thoughts. Part of me was in denial, another part in shock. Fear hadn't even set in yet, just like a jolt to the system of an unreal horror happening to someone

else because an hour ago I was completely safe without a care in the world. And now the absurd idea of someone doing absolutely horrendous things to me. I was acutely aware of this now. And leaving us somewhere nobody would find us. Those things were flipping through my mind. Have you ever been in Kansas? Lots of lonely, godforsaken, desolate roads to nowhere. If, at this point, the third guy changed his mind or simply said to just let him out first, I wouldn't be sharing this with you right now. They stopped talking to each other. They had never spoken to us at all from the moment we entered the van. My friend and I didn't speak to each other.

We barely looked at each other. We were afraid. I could hear the clanging, rattle, trap van noises and the tires on the road. I saw my friend flexing as if to warn he would fight to defend himself while they were discussing where they would take us. Everything felt surreal. But the guy in the back... fight to defend themselves while they were discussing where they would take us. Everything felt surreal. But the guy in the back, that guy said no. And just like that, the driver pulled over and the guy in the back opened up the side door and let us out and it was over.

The air smelled somehow fragile and tainted. The ground looked different, like I couldn't quite trust it. My friend looked as shaken as I felt. We had survived a close encounter with shark-like predators, the blackest, darkest evil. I looked at the gas station in the late afternoon, waning sunset just before dark. That gas station had transformed itself into a beacon of shining light, a safe haven of shelter and safety and I knew once we got into the gas station that there was no way I could walk back to the car. The white van with no windows pulled away from us and it all still felt so surreal, like even looking at it might give it the power to suck us back up into its vacuum of ill

intent. Today I can still see that van pulling away, a sort of mirage from a nightmare that had crossed over into my waking reality. I just had my baby in April of this year and he was my first. He's my world. In February I was around 7 months and finally starting to show. I was a late shower so the 7 month mark was finally the point where you could say with certainty that I was pregnant if you saw me in passing. I live in Arizona as well so it doesn't get too cold here and I was wearing a tight sweater that showed off my bump. I was super proud of it. Anyway, I was at Walmart after work picking up

a couple of groceries and I was approached by a lone woman. She was a little shorter than me and had brown hair and looked around 35 if I had to guess. She seemed normal enough and sweet. She struck up a conversation with me about my bump. The typical, how far along are you and I can tell it's a boy by the way you're carrying. Again, she was sweet but she lingered a little too long. I can't think of a reason for this in that particular moment but the woman gave me a super weird vibe. I let her know that I had to get home to make dinner and then she asked me

for my information. She said she owned a children's boutique and would love to meet up to give me clothes for the baby. This seemed odd for several reasons. Why, as the owner of a children's boutique, would you just give away your merchandise to a stranger you just met? I politely declined and then she asked to take my phone number down in case I changed my mind. Something inside me was screaming not to give it to her. I let her know that I was really not interested and went to check out. For some reason after that interaction I felt super unnerved and as I walked out I looked behind me. She was leaving the store as well. I had already started walking to my car but it was dark and I was parked far away so I began to walk faster. I parked far because I had

heard walking was good for pregnant ladies but in that moment I was regretting making that decision. To my relief she walked to the passenger side of a car in the same row as mine and I still had a ways to go. I didn't see her get in or anything but I was relieved nonetheless. When I finally got to my car I suddenly got the intense urge to lock it as soon as I closed my door. I'm thankful every day that I did because a millisecond later the woman sprinted up to my car and violently tried to open the passenger side door. When it didn't open she banged on the window shouting all sorts of terrible obscenities and then sprinted away. I was scared out of my mind and I peeled out of there as soon as possible. I didn't even see where exactly she went and I never went back to that location again.

I'm not sure what would have happened if I had gone to meet her or if I didn't lock my doors right away. I'm not sure what she wanted. But I've heard stories about women who steal babies out of pregnant women's bodies, and I fear that may be what she was trying to do. I can't be sure. I don't even like to think about it. To be continued... and it happened last night about a quarter after midnight. I was in my bed when I heard frantic knocking. I walked out of my bedroom while the knocking continued again and heard a woman saying please help me along with crying but it was faint. I looked out the peephole to see that no one was there and no other doors were being knocked on. Just mine which is is odd by itself, but I'm also on the third floor. Why would someone

walk all the way up just to my apartment if in distress? I think it was a recording because if someone really needed help, they would be banging on everyone's door. I called the police immediately and the dispatcher told me not to open the door and if I had a weapon. I have heard of this tactic before while slightly different with it being a recording of a baby crying. Just insane when thinking about the statistics of stranger abductions usually result in murder. Also, just so sick to try and prey on people's empathy. Police drove by, I saw them using their spotlight to look through the complex, but as of now, I have no idea if anyone was found or by chance someone was hurt if they found her. I've barely slept with all the possibilities of how this person found me, where they saw me, when they followed me or if they live in this complex.

I'm 4'10", live alone and don't know many people in the area. No family close either. Have they been watching me and know all this? I mean, it's just making me go crazy. Stay vigilant. Don't fall for these tactics and know that not everything you read on the internet is false. I heard about this a year ago and wonder if I hadn't already been aware of this, would I have opened the door?

Where would I be right now? Would I be alive? The world is just so messed up. Update 2.57pm. I have talked with the management to let them know what is going on. As of right now no one else has reported to them of anything similar happening. I'm going to contact police again for an update. I was redirected to another police department but they weren't the ones who responded to the call. I know it takes some time for reports to be filed so I'm trying to be patient. I just want to know if this has happened to anyone else. I had ordered a ring camera and we'll be picking it up shortly. At least this way I could get video of them if they come back and it'll help me sleep better. As far as it being a prank, absolutely it could be, but I would be more inclined to believe that if it happened to other women in the apartment, maybe it has but haven't said anything.

One side of the coin is it's a very cruel prank that I shouldn't worry about. The other is that someone has been watching me and had something sinister in mind. It's horrifying to think that someone would pull an elaborate prank like this or real world things that happen that we never think could happen to us. With guns and self-defense classes I will be getting both of these but they both take time and a lot of money. I don't want to just get a cheap gun with no training, that won't help much. It'll be something I'll invest my time and money into, but for the short security,

I can really only get a ring camera and stay updated with the police department. Thanks to everyone for your helpful tips, like the neighborhood apps and gun safety. I appreciate it so much during this very scary time. To be continued... doing cardio on a treadmill. It was pretty empty, not very many people there on a Thursday at noon. I always use the treadmills in front of the mirrors so I can pay attention to my surroundings like a safe young woman. I was on a treadmill two away from the end and all of them were empty save one at the opposite end where I was. This man gets on the treadmill right next to me, which is weird but okay. I have my headphones in and am watching a criminal minds and every so often I look up at the mirrors just to check my

surroundings and every time I look up this man is staring at me. Around 37 minutes of my 45 minute planned cardio he drops his phone on the side of his treadmill closest to me. I was watching in the mirror and he basically threw it down next to me. He gets off the treadmill, picks his phone up and then taps me on the shoulder. Now I never took out my headphones so I couldn't really hear what he was saying. He introduced himself, I never caught his name, and then asked me my name. I gave a fake one. He then said something else but I couldn't hear him because Derek Morgan got in a shootout. I just nodded and returned to my show clearly uninterested in whatever he had to say. At this point I only had like 5 minutes left and every time I looked

in the mirror he was staring at me. I finished my workout and went to the stretching area that is near the treadmills still in front of the mirrors. I also took a glance at how long he'd been on the treadmill and it was something like 8 minutes so not actually long enough to be a real workout or honestly even a warm up. When I moved to the stretching area he moved to the closest machine and was still staring at me. Using the mirror I started counting his sets and reps so in the middle of his next set, I got up and left, thinking that this would give me enough time to get to my car and leave before he even noticed I was gone. I got to my car, sat down, turned it on, grabbed my seatbelt, and as I was about to click it into place, my passenger side door opened. I screamed,

don't touch my effing car car and pulled out of the parking lot with both doors wide open. I was back into parking spots because I saw something online from police saying that was the safest thing to do and I'm constantly worried about my safety. I drove a mile down the road with my passenger side door open. Then the next day I went into the gym to report him but like I said I had never got his name and the gym didn't want to look at the cameras with me there and said that once they figured out who it was they would talk to him which really didn't feel like they were doing anything about the situation so the next week I cancelled my membership and I've never been back. Back when I was in college and finally got my own car,

my usual Friday nights were taking my cousins and my brother to my old high school's football games since we were all fans of the sport. The games would usually end by 9.30 in the evening and after we got done with our late night fast food joint runs, the time would be about 10.30. When I drop someone off at their house, regardless of what time of the day it is or how much of a rush I am to go somewhere, I always make sure to sit in my car to wait until I see them enter their house. My mom and dad were the ones who always engraved this in my head because doing this ensured that they actually got home safely. My mom's fears were that they didn't have a key to get inside and that they were locked out of their own home. And far worse, there was

someone menacingly hiding behind the bushes or against the wall far out of our sight. So the time was around 10.30 and I pulled up to my last cousin's house. The passenger side of my car that my cousin is sitting in is facing directly in front of his house's driveway. So as my cousin is gathering his stuff, I glance over to my aunt's house to see if there's anything or anyone around. That's when I see my uncle over to my aunt's house to see if there's anything or anyone around. That's when I see my uncle is underneath my aunt's car doing some car work or as I thought. Before my cousin steps out of the car, I take a closer look and I now know that this man is not my uncle. I pull my cousin back into the car and tell him, look, who is that? He is frightened at seeing this and I tell him to call his dad and make sure that this isn't him. As he does, I pull the car to

the other side of the street just in case things go bad. His dad comes out as fast as he could, as do I, and now he and I are confronting the man underneath my aunt's car. The man is way underneath the car as his legs are the only part of his body that isn my aunt's car. The man is way underneath the car as his legs are the only part of his body that isn't under the car. As it turned out it was just a homeless man who had had a few drinks as he was slurring his words as we kept on trying to tell him that he needed to leave. I know that the man meant no harm but I tell this story to people as a cautionary tale on why you should always make sure to scan the area and wait for your family members, friends, or whoever you're

dropping off to make sure that they enter their house safely. This happened to my best friend about a year ago. We were both 18 at the time. My friend and I are female and both about 5'3 and 110-115 pounds so we're kinda easy targets. My friend and I went to the lake one day with a group of friends. We were hanging on the beach playing cornhole and listening to music. After a few hours my friend had to leave because she had work. I asked her if she wanted me to walk her to her car and she said no. A few minutes later she called me and this is the story she told me. She got to her car with no issue.

Before she left she was sitting on her phone when she heard a knock on her driver's side window. Some white trash middle aged woman was standing right outside of her car asking her to roll down her window. My friend was a little startled so she cracked her window slightly and asked the woman, can I help you? The woman then told her that she needed help with her car and had jumper cables and asked if my friend could walk with her to her car and give her a hand. Of course my friend told her she wouldn't be much help as she's not strong enough and didn't know much about cars. The woman begged her to help and said, My car is just right through those trees and pointed to an area that was completely empty. There was no car.

My friend told her that she needed to go because she was going to be late for work. The woman put her hand on my friend's window and aggressively said, No, you need to come with me. My friend then threw her car in reverse and gunned it out of the parking lot. As she was driving away, she looked in the direction of where the lady pointed and saw a large man hiding behind one of the trees. We suspected the woman was trying to lure my friend out there so the man could grab her. They were most likely part of a team of traffickers. I've heard many people say that they use women to go up to girls because they are less sketchy. We have went to that lake several times after and have never experienced anything like that again.

Stay safe out there. I hope my friend and I never come in contact with that woman again. I'm a leasing agent at an apartment complex. It's a very large building with over 500 residents, so needless to say, I interact with a lot of people and sometimes I meet some interesting characters. This old man walks in inquiring about our property and wanted to take a tour. I asked him for his ID before the tour, it's the law and policy, and he made a joke saying, what? Do you not trust me? I let out an awkward laugh and didn't think anything of it. I thought it was just a boomer telling stupid boomer jokes. He complied with giving me his ID and we started the tour. The majority of the time

on this tour he was telling me how much I reminded him of his daughter and told me all these stories about her growing up. I thought it was cute and that it was just an old man reminiscing about the good old days. Again, didn't think much of it. At the end of the tour he decides to apply and later that day I ran his screening and it came back rejected. There could be a number of reasons why. One, he didn't meet the income qualifications. Two, he has poor credit or rental history. Three, he has a criminal record. It turned out to be about option three. He had a criminal record.

I don't have access to specifics, but my boss does. I tell her about him and saying how he didn't give me bad vibes at all and maybe it was for minor offenses, but regardless, you can never judge a book by its cover. My boss was intrigued, so he was able to pull up the police reports. He was arrested in the 80s and put on an offender list for doing terrible, terrible things to his daughter. To be continued... Hey friends, thanks for listening. Click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations. I release new videos every Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 7pm EST. If you got a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit r slash let's read official and maybe even hear your story featured on the next video.

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