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I had full control, like I normally would have, and Tracer handled the same way she would have in Overwatch. You can be shocked.

But what I know, is that you really do mean a lot to me. Ever since I ended up on that site, you were always there. I know this is hard to buy, but I really do love you, Jeremy.

And you really do make me feel so good. Like a real woman again! Look at me go! She stood out with the stark difference in graphics and art style.

I finished the level with Tracer before going back to my computer. I opened it up to find the next video on my computer. Nothing involving SharkSprite this time.

I clicked on it and opened it. Sure enough, Tracer was waiting there. She was sitting in her living room, on a comfortable-looking couch and fully dressed.

It almost seemed like she actually wanted to talk. Just you and me now! Maybe we can figure it out together. But what I do know is that I want to take the next step with you!

But… there is kind of something really special I want. My heart was racing as the reality of my situation was dawning on me. I want to be on your side of the screen, Jeremy!

You need to give me something from your side. Human life. But it has to be done in a certain way. Trust me, I know. We can be picky. We can find… I dunno.

Some tosser! I thought about shutting the computer off, but would that work? She did say it could just be some asshole, and God did I know some assholes!

I could be yours. Free of this existence, free to be in your world. You and I could be together forever. I really do love you, Jeremy. She was beautiful.

She was perfect. I would kill for her. I had to. She carried the camera through her apartment and towards what looked to be a computer room.

None of the videos had taken me inside there yet. She opened the door and revealed a 3D model of her girlfriend, Emily, tied to an office chair.

That was interesting. This still looked pretty good all things considered. It looked like what Blizzard would have made for Emily if she were in the game.

I could hear her sobbing, and I could see her struggling against her bindings. She picked up a knife from the desk and stood behind her soon to be ex-girlfriend.

You can be merciful. We mostly need the blood. There was no blood at first. The blade just clipped through the model, but the reaction was disturbingly realistic.

Her cries turned into dry gasps for breath. Her body jerked around. The whole while, Tracer stood patiently behind her, waiting for her to die.

But I can send you an image. She drew two circles, one inside the other. The space between them was decorated with ornate circle of lines that looked almost like a labyrinth.

It was complex and confusing. Looking at it made my eyes hurt. I almost swore that it was moving. I watched as Tracer dipped her finger into the blood to add a few more touches.

For a moment, I thought I saw a long nail dragging itself against the screen. I blinked and it was gone.

Tracer was still smiling, her eyes looking at the camera, and at me. You just need to trace the pattern, and after that, we can be together.

Easy, right? It did seem fairly easy. I wondered at the significance of the sigil she was showing me how to draw.

But the why of it was lost to me. Find someone, and we can be together! There was a girl I knew in High School named Karen who might be a good target.

But how would I get her to my house? I needed someone no one would miss! Maybe that was a blessing. I needed a stranger. I needed someone I could get to my place without any issues.

It would probably be easier that way. So I started thinking about who nobody would miss. The answer was honestly pretty simple.

Destiny was good enough for my purposes. I found her in an online listing. She was a tall, toned blonde with short curly hair and a thousand-watt smile.

She came dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a tank top. In a lot of ways, she was very inconspicuous. I kind of respected that about her.

I stared out the window. It felt good. Was this what Tracer would feel like? I knew what I was about to do, and I was starting to doubt myself.

I wanted to ask her about herself. I wanted to find out who she was, why she was doing this. God, was I going crazy? Destiny pulled away and went.

I was sending her to the computer room. Tracer could help me clean up the mess afterward. I took a steak knife from my drawer and clutched it tightly as I followed Destiny to her destiny.

This was a stranger. Someone who had no idea what they were walking into. Hell, she was a fucking whore! People killed them all the time! Why was I so nervous?

She took a step back, going to try the next door. I was coming up behind her now. My heart was racing. I raised the knife and brought it down before I could think properly.

Destiny screamed and lurched forward. The knife was torn out of her body. I stumbled after her as she tried to put some distance between us.

I understood why. I was running on pure adrenaline myself. I rushed towards her, knife in hand and drove it into her stomach, over and over again.

I was panicking! I just wanted her to die! I wanted her to stop making those awful sounds! Destiny crashed against my bedroom door and slid to the ground.

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. Her red intestines spilled out of her open stomach, but somehow she still clung to life. I suppose I understood that.

I wanted Tracer, and for that, she had to die. I put the knife into her neck. Her head slammed against the doorframe. I left the knife in her neck and took a step back, looking at the mauled carcass in front of me.

Destiny was dead. The hard part was done. But why did I feel so sick? Why did I want to vomit? Oh, God, what was I doing? I grabbed Destiny by the leg and dragged her into the computer room.

She was heavier than she looked, and she left a trail. The stink of death was already painfully strong. Apparently, the rumor that your bowels evacuate upon death is true.

I had to head to the bathroom to be sick. Do it, Jeremy. Let me in! I dipped my finger into the blood, and I traced two circles.

Slowly, I completed the design, my hands shaking as I did so. It was messy, but it was there. I finished the infernal design and admired my work on the screen.

I reached for the mouse and opened my folder filled with various hentai images of Tracer, then my folder specially for videos. I opened one of my favorites from SpriteShark and watched as Tracer appeared on the screen.

She looked at the blood on my screen and smiled wider, before tentatively reaching her hand out towards me. Just when she should have touched the glass, I saw it crack.

Her fingers opened, beckoning me forward. I reached out towards her to help her through. For a perfect moment… I touched Lena Oxton.

I touched my beloved Tracer…. I pulled her arm out of the screen. The glass fell away as her head came through. She looked at me with wide, adoring eyes.

She looked at me like she would be mine forever. Her other hand came up and caressed my cheek. Her smile widened. Then her mouth opened. It was the legions of eyes behind them.

The darkness that lurked in the depths of her mouth. That mouth which opened impossibly wide. It yawned ahead of me like a cavern. It was in that moment I understood what had happened.

Lena Oxton was a fictional character made up for a video game. This was right here in front of me, and it was going to kill me.

I pushed her back before stumbling away from the screen, away from the monstrosity that was now partially through it.

I spied the door to the computer room and bolted, but her inhumanly long fingers caught me by the arm. I pulled as hard as I could and I swear I felt myself slipping.

I felt the bone break and screamed out in agony as it did. Then came the sensation of numbness. It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt, but I was free!

I put in one final push as I threw myself at the door of the computer room. The contorted mass that barely resembled the character I loved protruded from the screen like a macabre flower.

In one hand, she clutched my arm. Bone jutted out of the place where it had once been attached to my body, and the blood was soaking into my shirt.

The pain was unbearable. Provided he ever finished it. Elsa's become quite the slut, hasn't she? Can someone make some nude edits of Elsa?

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