Obsessive Stalker Novels & Stories

Daniel walked into the room and he couldn't figure out what was going on with him. He couldn't put his finger on it and it frustrated him. He paced the room, feeling restless and agitated. In a fit of anger, he slammed his hand on the expensive glass table and made his way to the mirror. He stared at his reflection, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. "This is not like me. What is happening? I don't understand." He said as he shrugged his shoulders. Daniel grabbed his phone and sat on the bed, but still, he couldn't get hold of himself.

“Who the hell thinks it’s okay to watch someone from the shadows? That’s not affection. That’s obsession. It’s creepy and messed up.” He blinked at me, like I’d spoken in a language he didn’t understand. “I’m not a psycho,” he said slowly, as though he was trying to convince himself as much as me. “Is it wrong that I find you pretty?” “Finding me pretty and stalking me are two very different things,” I said, my voice cold enough to cut glass. “Now let go. I don’t have time for this nonsense I’m going home.” I wrenched free and shoved past him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how badly my hands were shaking. My arm throbbed where he’d gripped it too tightly, the bruises alread

“Don’t be silly, Jake. You’ve been gone for a month and you spring out of God knows where to accuse my fiancée of having an affair with you of all the men in the world?” “She knew all those men when she came to me whenever she was down and hurt by something you did.” “You were always right there in her face, wherever she turned, you were right there waiting to act like the best friend she never needed. Even though she couldn’t see it back then, you were a stalker, an obsessive at that. I knew it from the first time I saw you.” “I know you think I’m wasting my time but if you want to preserve your name and hers as well, you’ll pay me upfront in order not to release the articles and pictures I

I shout, the numbness that surrounded and protected me now starting to crack. “Miss, it doesn’t take a lot to get these kinds of stalkers going. Sometimes it can be something as innocent as a friendly hello, a smile, passing on the street or even seeing your picture somewhere. They build this obsession in their head and this entire fictional world that they believe is real and think you’re aware of. I may not know who is doing this, but I do know it’s not your fault,” asserts the officer. Maybe he’s not entirely desensitized as I thought.

“I like knowing you want to see me.” “You don’t understand,” he growled, pressing into me from behind while I fumbled to unlock my door. “This feeling is not normal. Or natural. I haven’t even known you a week. How can I become so attached so fast? That’s borderline stalker behavior, isn’t it?” “Well… Stalkers are unwanted, for one thing. And I’m actually a fan of whatever this is you’re experiencing, so… That suggestion’s off the table. Obsession, on the other hand—”

PROLOGUE What does it feel like to experience the sensation of being stalked? Is it as if every move you make is being recorded, and you are being watched at every step? How far do you believe an obsession can lead someone? What do you think is the boundary of obsession? Can it result in dangerous situations for anyone who comes close to the object of obsession, or even touches them? Doesn’t the thought of being stalked sound terrible, terrifying, and scary? Unfortunately, that is what happened to me.

It felt like he was reading an adventure story except that, here, he was not a reader, but one of the characters-the suffering protagonist probably. His stalker was the villain here. "You fucking undermined me, but I'm sure you have come to your senses now." The stalker said again, "If you make any more funny moves, I am going to catch you, and torture you severely. I have got all your life under watch, right here before me. All your life in a computer."

Last night, I remember how Anna said that she wanted Adair back and the countless number of times that Adair told me how she wanted to see him even though they shouldn’t. According to what Aaliyah told me then, and drawing on previous stalker cases of husbands and wife, what Anna is doing is an act of obsession. I’ve seen plenty of cases where the wife or husband doesn’t want to let go even when the marriage is totally broken, to the point where the other person no longer wants to be with their spouse. “Hello earth to Sarah!” Aaliyah snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Oh, sorry I was thinking about what you said.” I state taking a sip of my coffee.

The arrival of the "Stalkers" turned the "Unmapped" North into a "Living Theme Park." These were not the Architects with their clinical logic, nor the "Voters" with their distant indifference. These were the "Obsessed"—the humans who had spent years "Subscribed" to the Thorne-Blackwood bloodline, and who had used the Gallery’s fall as an opportunity to physically enter their favorite "Exhibition." They stood in the courtyard, their modern fabrics looking like "Narrative Errors" against the violet-gold stone of the keep. They didn't have weapons; they had "Observation Units"—devices that recorded every scent, every tear, and every drop of biological gold.

Dakota POV I stand in the doorway of the bathroom, watching her wash my cum off her face. She turns me on in unreal ways. I want to own her body. I want to be deep inside her pussy. The thoughts I have of her are not typical. She is my obsession. She cleans her face and walks to me, standing in the doorway of her bathroom. “What do you want to do to me now, stud?” Tonya asks me. The thoughts that are going through my mind are wild and machinist. “I want to take you to your bedroom,” I say to her.