Post-It Notes

"Show ya titties," the post-it note reads. Like always, it sends a powerful wave of anger as well as cold fear through me. I crumple it up like I do all the post-it notes and throw it in the nearby trash can. I then do a few turns around the room as if expecting someone to finally pop out and reveal themselves. Then I have to hold back the tears as I wish I knew what in the world was going on here.

That's the second post-it note today. Not sure how many its been since it has started, but by now it's been dozens. It's just so violating to find them. Violating and creepy. Not to mention damn scary.

It all started about a week ago, maybe less. I was doing chores, washing clothes I think, when I walked into my living room and saw a lone post-it note on the couch. When I saw it, it scared the ever-loving hell out of me. I can't remember the last time I even saw a post-it note let alone used one. That note meant someone was in the house.

I mean, I was so scared I ran out of my house and called the police from my front yard. I knew someone had to be in the house. Someone left that post-it note with a message on it for me to find.

The cops showed up and searched the place but didn't find anyone. They understood why I called especially when they read what the message said, "Let's Fuck." They said for me to call them again if I so much as get a slight feeling someone is there.

It happened again the next day, but this time I woke up to find one right on my bedroom door. Right on the door, where I saw it the moment I woke up. This time there was no hiding what was written on it as it felt like it was beamed into my head; "Murder that pussy."

That time I locked myself in the bathroom and called the police. The person had gotten into my bedroom. The person WATCHED ME SLEEP! I could have been raped or worse, killed.

The police came again, but no one was here. Nor did they find anywhere someone could have gotten in. Everything was locked up and there were no broken windows. This time I had them stay as we looked at every single possible place someone could hide. From under the beds to the attic, to inside the kitchen cabinets. I needed to make sure no one was there. They even stayed as I replaced the locks on the doors, and checked all the windows a few times. We all agreed, no one was inside the house, so they wouldn't be able to get in, again.

But it happened again. Another post-it note. This time in the kitchen. Only this time I had been in the kitchen most of the morning and was fine. It was when I left to the bedroom for a nap that it appeared. Was sitting on the counter, as if it had been there the entire time. This time it read "I love your firm ass."

At this point, I knew there was nothing the police could do. And I ran the risk of crying wolf too many times so if I really was attacked, they may not show up. So I had to handle this on my own. This best I could think of to do was to buy a security system. Now, I am in no way rich, so it was just a cheap one meant to scare criminals. It's the type that makes a loud noise when alarmed and anyone opens a door or window as well as sends a message to the police.

With this freshly installed, I felt better. It made me think that once whomever was doing this to me saw it, they would stop. After all, they had to be getting in some way, and this baby had motion sensors!

Now, I know many people would yell at me saying that I should just leave. Pick up and go. But first, I work from home. If I spent most of the day in an office or something, things would be much different. But I'm a CPA that is self-employed and works from home, so it's not like there's a lot of places for me to go. My parents live in a different state, and with COVID being rampant at the moment, it's not like I can stay with any friends. Not to mention I'm not seeing anyone at the moment, so it's not like I could invite them over. I'm stuck here. Hell, I don't think I could afford to stay at a motel unless it's a "Prostitute's Inn" sort of place.

The security system didn't work for shit. In fact, I think it made whomever that is doing this even bolder. I happened to fall asleep on the couch while watching some dumb Netflix movie, and when I woke up, my shirt was lifted up, exposing my breasts. Since I'm at home alone, I don't feel the need to wear a bra, so with my shirt up, my boobs were plainly showing. And it was pretty clear my shirt was forced up as the fabric was stretched, so it's not like I did it on accident.

Never had I felt so violated. I mean, someone lifted my shirt and probably stared at my tits, for who knows how long. What if they touched them? Sucked on them? Took pictures?! That last thought shook me so much that I went online trying to think of google search terms that would describe my own boobs to see if they were uploaded. Doing this had me looking at more breasts than at a madri gras party.

The next day the security company came out and checked the system and said it was working fine. All the tests they did proved the equipment was working. They even tried to trick the system to see if they could mess it up while breaking in, and it always worked.

They had no clue on how the person was getting in. They said, much like I said to the police, that it's like they are already in the house. That they are just damn good at hiding.

I shared with the female techs of the security company what had happened, and we spent the day snooping around my house for any hidden areas. She mentioned she had seen many such places for previous clients, and thought it could be what was happening. So we spent hours searching all around my house.

Where I am there are no basements or anything, but we did try to get under the house to see if there was any tunnels or something. Didn't find any. Just like we found no wall that was thick enough that a person could hide in them. Nor did we find any sort of entrance to go inside the walls. No matter how we looked, the carpet we removed, the tiles we lifted, there was no entrances.

Once the security system people left, it felt like whomever was doing this was laughing at me. I know this because they actually left a post-it note with nothing but a bunch of "ha, ha, ha, ha." He or she was getting the better of me, and we both knew it. Probably why he or she started to get even worse.

I started to live almost in constant fear after this. If I went into a room, I kept my back to the wall to make sure I could see everything. I made sure the tv was never on nor did I play music because I wanted to hear if someone was coming for me.

Even doing all this, the post-it notes came. And oh, how it terrified me. I remember one time when I was in the living room folding clothes, and I left to put some towels in the guest bathroom. When I came back to the living room, there was a post-it note waiting for me that read, "I'm playing with your pussy tonight."

I wasn't even gone but 20 seconds when I put those towels up. I would have heard footsteps, or a door opening or anything. But there was no noise. Just the sounds of me, moving about. Yet whomever it is, was able to come in, drop the note off and hide again.

Each time I saw one of those multicolored post-it notes, my entire body would freeze with fear. I would just get stunned and not be able to move. It was beyond scary. And there wasn't anything that I felt I could do. If the security system didn't catch them, what else would?

As a test, I found where I kept my post-it notes. Sure enough, the bastard (or bitch) was using my own notes to scare me. So I threw them away. Did it real secret-like too, throwing them away with some other papers.

Not but an hour later, there was another post-it note telling me to "shake my titties" waiting for me on the kitchen wall. Worse, they took the post-it notes out of the trash and left them on the living room table. All while I was in the house, and all while I didn't hear them at all.

It was that night that it got even worse. You see, whatever it is had toyed with and teased me before. Like I said, it lifted my top sometimes, or pulled down my pajamas to expose my panties. This time it attacked me. Truly attacked me.

I woke up in the middle of the night, not in my bed, but on the cold floor in the hallway. When I woke up, I was completely naked. Not a piece of clothing anywhere near me. I was completely and utterly naked, in my hallway, a place I've never been naked before.

But more importantly, between my legs was so incredibly sore. Painfully sore. Something had sex with me. Something...large. Oh, how my pussy felt so sore. It felt like a horse or something fucked me the way every inch of my insides throbbed.

Normally when my womanhood feels like this, it is a good thing. It makes me think of how much sexual fun I had. How I got to let go for a little bit. But this was beyond violating, even if a part of me did sort of like the feeling, for I've never felt my lady parts feel so thoroughly used before.

It was only after waking up like this that I started to suspect that it wasn't human. This entire time I thought it was a man that was breaking in or a woman hiding in the vents. But what if it isn't? What if it is some inhuman thing, hell-bent on raping me? On using me? On making me a sex toy for the devil?

That happened 4 days ago, I think. Time sort of feels weird when you are stuck in your house. It feels much longer than it should be. I'm pretty sure it was 4 days ago, but in some ways it feels like weeks ago. I know that's because everyday something happens to me. And everyday there are post-it notes.

Multiple sexual acts happen to me each day now. Like yesterday, I woke up in my bed in the afternoon, topless. And my nipples felt incredibly sore, as if someone spent hours pinching and sucking on them. Not to mention how swollen my boobs felt, making me wonder if whatever it is slapped them about. Sure enough, when I examined them closer, I saw soft bruises and marks on them, letting me now they had been slapped around.

Coming back to my senses as I stand in my living room, I turn to go into my office now that I threw the note away. Only when I turn, I see another fucking post-it note. This one is tacked on the TV and reads, "Show that ass too."

"Is this what you want?!" I yell out to the living room, the fear and anger getting the better of me. I proceed to lift my shirt up, allowing my F cup breasts to become exposed to my house. With them out and jiggling, I then drop my pajama bottoms and panties, exposing not just my ass but my shaved womanhood too.

"Huh, is it?!" I yell, turning around with small steps so whomever is doing this gets to see all of my naked body. They've already seen it many times, not to mention tasted it, so I don't see what the point is. It's not like anyone else can see since all the curtains are closed. So why do they keep tormenting me and wanting me to show my body?

I then put my clothes back the way they were and go to plop down on the couch, trying not to cry. This is all so humiliating, and not because I have some supernatural stalker, but some crazy part of me likes having to do this. Likes having to expose my body to some unknown person. Likes making me feel that someone does want me. Wants me so bad they would go to these extreme lengths. That they are so interested in me that they've dedicated their life to it.

"Ouch!" I gasp the moment my butt hits the couch seat and then shoot back up. Both of my hands move to my bottom, where I cradle it protectively. Concerned, I then rush to my bathroom, where I lower my bottoms and panties and turn to the mirror.

"Son of a bitch," I say as I'm able to see my bare ass in the mirror. I've been spanked. There's no doubt about it, either. My entire ass is red and swollen, like someone took a damn paddle to it for an hour. How in the world did I not feel this before? It's only now I feel how both cheeks throb from being spanked, hard.

I wish I knew how they were doing this to me. Is whatever it is, drugging me? I can't think of any other reason why I wouldn't wake up with some of the things it has done. I'm not a heavy sleeper so I would thinking being spanked or hell, getting fucked would wake me up.

If it is drugging me, how? On purpose I have only eaten things that have to open up, like crackers or cookies. So it can't be any of my food. And also I've even taken to drinking small amounts of the things I do drink, and even then, it comes from cans. Once it is open, after that first sip, I don't drink any more.

If it is drugging me, wouldn't I have side effects of whatever drugs it uses? Like being unnaturally tired when it hits or red eyes all the time, or something like that? The way it happens now is that I don't realize I've fallen asleep till I wake up. And as someone that takes a lot of naps naturally, it doesn't feel strange to do this either. I don't feel some unnatural tiredness or feeling of being forced into sleep. It just, well, happens.

Why is happening to me? How is this happening to me? Is it because I'm stuck at home and this thing knows it? Or is it some spirit that wants revenge on me? Or could it be a demon that just took a liking to me? Hell, for all I know it's some ex of mine getting revenge from beyond the grave! I just don't understand any of this.

On the verge of crying, I walk back into the living room and sit down, only this time I do it gingerly. I put my face in my hands as I try to not feel so overwhelmed by all this. To help with this, I lower my head to between my knees as I heard this helps calm you down. As I am flexible, I bend a bit more, letting my body bend so it is almost at my calves.

After a very long moment, I do calm down. As is normal of late, I let time get away from me as I calm myself down, seeing that a good 30 minutes has passed with me just sitting here. I was in my own world thinking about how once lockdown is over, I can at least go camping or something.

Feeling better, I walk to my office, preparing to do some work in hopes of taking my mind off of all this. But when I reach my office, I see a bright pink post-in note on my laptop screen. A post-it note I know wasn't there before I sat down.

A deep sigh comes out of me as I read what they wrote this time; "naked for rest of the day." I stare at it, feeling a bit broken inside to the point I feel that I'm going to do it. That maybe if I get naked, this thing will leave me alone, at least for a bit. Sure, I know that isn't what is going to happen. Instead, it'll want more. If I did do it, I'll probably end up completely naked...forever.

"You like to watch, huh? You fucking perv. Watching like a pathetic creep. Watching...watching..." I say in frustration and then I have a light bulb moment. An idea pops in my head that changes everything. The idea of ideas. The thing that will change all that's happened.

"Oh, how stupid I've been," I tell myself as I realize this. I see what I should have done from the beginning. The smartest thing to do in this situation. And for some reason, it never once popped in my head, even if it is the smartest thing I could have done.

I take my laptop from my desk and bring it into the living room. Using it, I place an order for a series of webcams. Since the world has shut down for the most part, I have it set that it will be delivered here later today using some shopper app.

I become oddly excited as I think about my plan. I'm going to record everything. I'm going to record every single inch of my house. It won't even matter that I purchased cheap, crappy cameras, because I'll finally figure out what is happening.

And I can make sure the recordings are saved to the cloud, so if the thing doing it destroys my laptop, I'll still have them. Even if it is some creep doing it, they won't be able to do anything about me catching them. No one will be able to get the recordings to delete them.

The rest of the day is a blur. There are a few more post-it notes, but I ignore them. I just ball them up and throw them away. At first I worried they might be referencing what I'm planning to do, but they were the same lewd statements as before. Whatever it is, doesn't seem to know what I'm planning. It doesn't know the end is coming.

And then my cameras arrive. From here I spend the next hour setting them up, securing them and testing them. All the cameras are wireless, so they don't need to be physically connected to the laptop, which makes things so much easier. Best of all, I can lock my laptop and they'll keep recording. It's perfect. Everything is perfect.

Once everything is set up, I plop down on the couch, not caring how badly it hurts to do so. Excitedly I sit, knowing I'm being recorded. Being recorded from different angles. The webcams were on sale, so I got 12 of the bastards. There's not a room that isn't being recorded.

I can barely hide my excitement as I sit here, fully expecting whatever it is to appear and do whatever it wants. Let it do it. Let it do whatever so I can get the proof I need. Hell, I almost strip naked just to taunt it into doing something, but I decide this wouldn't be a good idea. So, I try to get my mind off of it by watching Netflix. For some reason Netflix-made shows always make me fall asleep.

My eyes flutter open sometime later, where I find I'm lying down on my couch when I was sitting earlier. My eyes widen as big as saucers when I look down to see my naked body. I'm not just naked with my clothes on the nearby coffee table, but my boobs have fresh marks on them. Marks long the outside of them...like a cord or something was wrapped around them. What in the hell?!

"Oh goodness me," I groan, my hands moving between my legs as I feel fresh soreness. Something fucked me again. It fucked me hard too. Whatever it was, it was large, only this time it feels like it gave me the fucking of a life time. Like I've been fucked raw. Every tiny part of my sex feels fucked hard.

Groaning as I sit up, I manage to put my clothes back on. It takes me a bit longer than normal due to how sore I feel, but I manage to get dressed. I then slowly grab my cell and laptop. Winching with each step I go to my bedroom, where I close and lock the door, just in case.

My heart pounds as I open my laptop, knowing this is the moment of truth. The excitement I feel gets so strong that I start to forget about the pain I feel. All that matters is that I'm about to find out what is happening to me.

I go to the program and rewind to the beginning when the cameras started to record. Setting them to fast-motion, I watch myself move about my house, setting up each camera. This goes on for some time, then I see myself sit on the couch.

I wait and wait as I see myself watch whatever it is that I was watching. Like normal, I twitch and move as I try to get comfortable. I move to one end of the couch, then the other. When I really get uncomfortable, I hang my head off the cushions as I lay upside down, my head almost touching the floor, which is what I see myself doing on camera.

"What in the world?" I say out loud as I see myself stand up off the couch. I do a sort of flip until my feet touch the floor. Then I stand up slowly.

Only...it's not me, but it is. I mean, it's my body for sure and my face. But the way I stand, isn't like me at all. My normal stance, is, well, normal. Just a normal, average woman making her way through life. Nothing bad about it, but it's just, normal.

The way I stand on the video is, well...sexy. My hips are cocked, making my ass stick out to make it known that I do have an ass. My back is arched somewhat, forcing my breasts out, making it look like I have jumbo-sized boobies. And then there's my face. There's a sexy smirk on my face that would melt any horny person's heart. I didn't even know I could make that sort of face. Everything about the person I see screams, well...attitude.