My Boyfriend Tried To Groom Me Into A Teenager — Then I Found His Secret ‘Target’ List

Part 1

I thought I was living a fairytale when I first met Greg four years ago.

He was a successful IT engineer, driven, and seemingly obsessed with treating me like a queen.

I was twenty-four back then, fresh out of college, still wearing my old sorority t-shirts and denim cut-offs.

He loved my long blonde beach waves and my carefree attitude.

He constantly told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

I genuinely believed I had found the perfect guy.

He seemed so attentive and sweet, always complimenting my outfits and buying me small gifts.

I never realized that his obsession with my appearance wasn’t admiration.

It was ownership.

Fast forward to now, and everything has drastically changed.

I am twenty-eight years old and have a demanding career as a public relations director.

My lifestyle completely shifted.

I swapped the cheap tank tops for tailored business suits and elegant pencil skirts.

I cut my long hair into a sharp pixie bob because it felt incredibly empowering.

I started running marathons, trading softness for pure, unapologetic muscle.

I outgrew my party phase and finally started taking myself seriously.

Most partners would celebrate that kind of personal growth.

Greg absolutely despised it.

It started with subtle, passive-aggressive comments.

He would stare at my new outfits with visible disgust.

He constantly asked why I didn’t want to wear my old skimpy clothes around the apartment anymore.

I explained that I just felt more comfortable in my workout gear or casual loungewear.

He ignored my reasoning completely.

He even started hiding the professional stud earrings I bought, replacing them with massive hoops I hadn’t worn since college.

He begged me to bring back my long hair and act like the spontaneous twenty-four-year-old he originally dated.

I thought he was just nostalgic for the early days of our relationship.

I tried to be patient with him.

I suggested couples counseling to help us navigate this new phase of our lives.

He stormed out of the very first session after five minutes.

He accused me of being a control freak who was deliberately trying to make myself unattractive to him.

The therapist looked absolutely horrified.

I went home that night feeling completely broken and confused.

Things escalated when I noticed he was removing recent photos of us from the living room.

He replaced them with pictures from our first year together.

I felt like I was living in a bizarre time capsule.

He refused to use my professional name, insisting on calling me by my old college nickname just to spite me.

Our intimacy completely died.

He told me he could only get turned on by looking at old photos of me from my early twenties.

My self-esteem plummeted to rock bottom.

I actually started wondering if I was the villain in our relationship.

I seriously considered growing my hair out just to make the tension stop.

I was completely desperate for the man I thought I knew.

Then came the incident with his laptop.

Greg is incredibly secretive about his devices.

He always locks his phone and never leaves his computer open.

But last Tuesday, he rushed out to a dentist appointment and left his laptop completely unlocked on the kitchen counter.

I only went over to it because it was loudly pinging with incoming messages.

I tapped the trackpad to mute the notification.

The screen woke up.

I found myself staring at a secret Instagram account I never knew he had.

He had thousands of followers, but none of them were real people.

They were all bots he had clearly purchased.

My hands began to tremble as I scrolled through his direct messages.

There were hundreds of them.

He was actively messaging dozens of nineteen and twenty-year-old girls.

These weren’t just random women on the internet.

They were waitresses from local college bars and interns from his office building.

He was systematically cornering them.

He was using a rented Porsche to impress them.

He was sending unsolicited bouquets of flowers to their workplaces the day after forcing them to give him their numbers.

I read messages where these young women begged him to leave them alone.

I saw screenshots of him calling them prudes and snobs when they rejected his aggressive advances.

He was a complete monster.

I clicked on his most recent conversation.

It was with a nineteen-year-old waitress named Heather.

He had flown to her state just to sit at her bar and stare at her.

He bragged in his messages about how easy it was to manipulate her because she was young and inexperienced.

I felt physically sick to my stomach.

I realized he didn’t just want me to look young.

He wanted me to be vulnerable, easily controlled, and dependent.

I took photos of every single message.

I found Heather’s real profile and sent her a direct message explaining who I was.

I asked her if Greg had been bothering her.

I waited in agonizing silence for three hours.

When Heather finally replied with screenshots of what Greg had been sending her, my blood ran cold—because I realized he wasn’t just a creep, he was hunting.