CreepCast - I Got Hired At A Modeling Agency | CreepCast

Episode Date: August 2, 2026

We read three wonderful stories from r/TalesFromTheCreeps that ask a simple question: what's the worst that could happen? Don’t sleep on @ultrapouches. New customers get 15% Off with code CREEPCAST at https://takeultra.com! #UltraPouches #ad Get up to $200 off Square hardware when you sign up at square.com/go/CREEPCAST ! #squarepod Get 40% off select Lola Blankets products at https://lolablankets.com/ by using code CREEPCAST at checkout. Experience the world’s #1 blanket with Lola Blankets. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

to Creepcast. Today we're gonna be reading some stuff from Tales from the Cream. You're new to the channel. If you're unaware, it is a subreddit where our fans go to post stories outside of R slash No Sleep. So if you're interested in writing a story, then maybe go there. People like to read stories and stuff. It's a nice little community is all I'm gonna say, alright.

Okay, all right, you got it. And the first story we're starting with is I got hired at a modeling agency and things got weird. You ever model? Did you ever do any child modeling? No. Did you do child modeling? I did for a local business, for a local gene business. Is this real?

It is real. I wore a little jeans and I had a little apple in my hand. And it was a little thing for a back to school thing. It was they chose two kids from my school and I was one of them. Are those pictures out there somewhere? God, I hope not. Because I look too, I look too hunk. cute.

Someone can find it. That's a bounty. If someone finds that, if someone finds that, I'm going to have to have a fucking word with them to be like, stop, get away from me. Stop following me,

is what I would say. Oh, someone's going to find that, please. No, I never, I never did any modeling as far as I know. I can't even,

I feel like there was a couple instances where I was a kid. Like, I think one time the local news was doing a story at some, like, near Appalachia and all, there was a reenactment of like Revolutionary War stuff and I went to that and I remember the local news

was walking around and they were like, hey kid, what do you think of this? And I'm like, it's really cool. And they just were like, thanks. And that was it. Probably never made it to air. I do. Your voice sounded so gross right there.

It's really cool. Like, okay, cool. I'm getting away from this duck child, this duck boy. There was one time. So when I was a kid, I went to the Cincinnati Children's Museum, which is like a big museum

where you can like play with blocks and like watch bees through glass and stuff like or whatever. And they were doing a commercial for it while I was there. And they were like, hey, dude, they went to my parents. I was like, can you be,

can your son be in the commercial? And I'm like, yeah, I want to or whatever. I remember the camera came near me while I was at this table where it was like these big jinga blocks that were supposed to teach you like I don't know structural integrity or whatever and I remember I thought I was going to look real cool when they brought the camera over to me so I tried to build like this really this really elaborate like tower at the moment the camera swings over to me the entire thing collapses like on queue and I was just like holding the pieces and I got embarrassed and I just turned around and put my

back to the camera. And then I remember the commercial came out. And I was like, oh, I want to see it. I want to see it. So my mom found the commercial and pulled it up. And they cut even the footage I was in the background of. They were that upset. Can you blame them?

You're a bad child. You're a bad kid. That was my brush with modeling. I feel like though I've made up for public appearances now as an adult. But as a child, I'm like, I'll never, I'm never going to make it. So here we are. So who's laughing now, Cincinnati Children's Museum? Yeah, still holding that against them.

This is, by the way, is written by Grunge Sea Bunny. And I'm very looking forward to it. And I want to say that there's a top of the, and we're going to put, we're going to, I'm going to say this now because it is at the top. There is a content warning. It says brief, very brief use of homophobic language, references to fetish content, implied animal harm,

not graphic. As long as you have to say the homophobic stuff, it's all that matters. I will say the homophobic stuff. I will fall on that shield. My favorite comment on the video we did about the gay dads camping is there's the part where you found out the dads were gay and you went, oh, okay, two gay dads. Got it. And someone commented said, Hunter was being homophobic, not in the sense he didn't like gay people,

but that he was actually afraid of them. You know what? It was just my media literacy. I didn't know. So then whenever I registered my brain, I did, oh, okay, got it. And I want to say that people's response to that episode. I thought that that story ruled. I thought that was cool.

I thought it was a fun little monster story. Now, granted people, people, I don't think that they enjoyed the fisher. But you know what? It went there. It went there. What are we? A bunch of Protestants now? What's a problem?

I guess we suddenly have standing. now. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Start burning witches at the stakes and stuff, bunch of goddamn Puritans. Sure. Yeah. We get delve into fishw up every once in a while.

Then what's the point of the show, Isaiah? Yes, we guess we got an audience of pilgrims here. We got to take care of. So watch out. But checking out Grunge Sea Bunny, they've posted on No Sleep Before, but now they're posted in tales from the creeps

and talking to other writers about their stories and stuff like that. And that's really cool to see. So. And this is tagged. This is tagged. with looking for feedback, so we will be giving feedback. We'll be brutally honest. We'll be so mean.

Also, we are on Spotify. It took me a second to realize what I was going to say. We're on Spotify and Apple Podcasts, anywhere that you can listen to a podcast. We're there. So if you don't want to watch this on YouTube, maybe like audio platforms, consider checking us out there and giving us a nice little rating. It does help us out. And also, we just released the video, Jim and I Home Entertainment, did a creep TV episode

in a long time. And like we had to do a bunch of different edits and stuff. So on Patreon though, it went up two days earlier. So if you want to be get content early or get extra content, consider checking out our Patreon if you want a little extra on the side. If not, it's all good. But hey, it's there. And maybe it's waiting for you.

So, Isaiah, are you ready? I am ready. So our first story, I got hired at a modeling agency and things got weird. It was the start at the fall semester. and I was already unraveling. Combination of admin being on my ass and my illiterate students caused icy bitterness to replace the blood in my veins. My wife, Ren, saw the stress slowly replacing my skin

and suggested we take a day to go to the beach. Of course, I protested. I still had 30 worksheets to grade. She refused to take no for an answer. Before I knew it, we were at the beach in matching sage green bikinis. Set on my tattered beach chair while Rin tanned on a tanned towel next to me. Close your laptop.

It'll overheat. I have to answer these emails. I replied as my fingers danced across my keyboard. I hit sin and immediately opened my next unread message. Dear Mrs. Mendes, after catching my daughter reading in an appropriate book, I investigated the complete list of books you assigned your students, and I am appalled at the blasphemous and borderline pornographic books you've been suggested to your students. I will be contacting the administration about this to ensure you. this to ensure you suffer the fullest

consequences. Sincerely, a total fucking bitch. Just getting to Emma's mother. Also known as. Yeah, aka Emma's mother. I closed my laptop with the deep side.

That bad? Ran asked as she set up and took off her tortoise shell sunglasses. It's actually a by fault for thinking the picture of Dorn and Gray was a suitable book for 17 year olds. I thought California's love. the picture of Doreen Gray, why does anyone have a problem with that?

Why does anyone have a problem with anything? Old literature. Oh, yeah. Why does anyone have a problem with anything? They're terrible because people are dumb. Hunter's take of the day. Hunter's hot take of the day. Why does anyone have a problem with anything?

Get it framed on your walls, ladies and gentlemen. Why do people fucking freak out about anything? That's my critical. That's a hunter's critical thought of the day. Hunter watching like Live League execution. videos. Oh, boys can't have fun

anymore. So what? I guess like this is a human experience. I can't, okay, whatever. I guess we have

problems with this now. What is the picture during and worry about? It's, it's the story of the guy who I think, I can't remember if it's a deal with

the devil or a witch or whatever, but the picture on his wall ages and he stays young. Oh, and the deal is he can just never look at the picture. Yeah. Yeah.

Okay. I don't know. Yeah. Maybe it's just because it's too shocking. Oh. I can't, I don't think. there's anything sexual.

And I may, I may be completely misremembering something, but it's just about like his people become terrified of the picture, so he begins to become more and more of a recluse because of it. I can't remember anything that drastic in it, but anyway. Maybe he was just jerking soft putt or

something. That'd be so sick. Picture Dorian great. Then Dorian went into the corner. It always comes back to that for you. It started jerking his soft put. It doesn't matter what the topic is. And we'll bring it around to that. Then in quotations, in quotations, it's like Dorian looked up from the corner in quotation. It says, me jerk, me soft pudd.

I'm so, I'm so careful now to not give you landmines to set off to take you into those directions. Like I'm very careful with my wording. But you don't even need it. You just jump into it. If you were, if you, if your child went to school and came home like, yeah, we're reading this book and you were like, oh, that's during picture of Doreen Gray. Yeah, he talks about pulling a soft put. You would you,

you'd probably be upset. I mean, I wouldn't. I think it's kind of funny. But I'm sure you, whatever else. Anyways, I scoffed.

I thought Californians love the gays. Not anymore. They don't. I'm going to the bathroom. Editor cut this up. But she just has like a giant shit stain on her bikini. Okay, go ahead.

I don't think that's that. How does that need to be cut? Why can everything you just said about Doreen grave? be left in. All right. Well, they cut everything on Doreen Gray. No, no, no. I'm saying what's with this double standard of yours?

Why is poop suddenly off the table? I thought that the Doreen gray thing was tasteful and the poop thing was random. Oh, did you? Okay. You know what? Editor leave all of it. I don't, I'm tired of this. Rinn pointed at the call motion waves.

Bathrooms that way. Oh, sorry about that. just shit pulling out. Yeah, I thought California's lock us gays. Also, I picture,

we're 30 seconds. I just want you to know that. And I hope that, I just wanted to put that in your mind so you have it there too. Go ahead. Thanks. Before I could walk to the nearest crab shack,

a man in a three-piece suit and a briefcase approached us. Excuse me. I'm sorry to bother you, ladies, but I couldn't help but notice how beautiful you both are. Right after I just said that's kind of

All right, good. I'm glad you're having a good time. Rhyn and I shared a quick look. Thank you. You put the palm of his hand on his chest. My name is Howard Burton. I run a local modeling company and you ladies would be perfect models

for our website. Modeling? Right, question. Is she stood up? Modeling. Say, what size shoe do you ladies wear? All right, this is where I would immediately be like, I like, all right, but I get the phone.

fuck out of here. Okay. Your feet look quite exquisite. Um. Started glancing at Ren again, trying to gauge if she was as weirded out as I was. We both were seven and a half. Perfect.

True niche. My company could use girls like you, with compensation, obviously. Made my ears perk up. How much? Our rate start up at 1,200 an hour, always paid in cash. This has to be pornography.

I would, I mean, like, a million percent. First off, a guy is approaching you, and he's like, hey, you're both really beautiful, which obviously got to watch out for that anyways. But then also just be like, the first thing after that is what size shoe do you wear? You get to know that motherfucker's drooling. He's just like, this little piggy went to the market. This little piggy. You know what I mean?

Can't trust that. Yeah. Yeah. A jaw dropped. And what would we be doing? I run a website dedicated to highlighting the different aspects of beauty. We are currently focusing on legs and feet. There it is.

There it is. Well, at least they're not wasting any time. Howard handed me a business card. Give us a call if you're interested. We'll set up a date for us to pick you up and take you to the studio. You'll pick us up? We send a car for all of our models. With that, you walked away.

There's no way we're doing it, right? I took out my phone to search for true niche. It sounded like a 20-year-old tech billionaires failed AI project. It has good. I scrolled through the monochromatic interface filled with women's arms and long latex gloves and feet and heels so high they look like weapons. A tab for men was available, though with a significantly smaller supply. Below the tab directing you to the about section was a password protected exclusive tab. The website seems legit.

There's a hit on a website dedicated to body parts. There's an exclusive tab you have to pay for. and she's like, I mean, it checks out to me. It does read, and I will be honest, it does read like porn.

Does it not? Yeah. Exclusive to me reads like a different word for porn. Yeah, of course. Absolutely. When we got home, I immediately called the number on the business card. A disembodied woman asked if I was buying or selling.

Selling? Howard approached my wife and me today. I heard some typing on the other end of the line. What's your address? As I told her. my wife looked at me from across our kitchen and utter disbelief. We're typing. What's in the car tomorrow at 9 p.m. to get driven out to be paid $1,200 an hour.

To get pictures of your feed. Bro, I would, there's no fucking shot. You're getting killed and dumped in Mexico. Yeah, there's, I mean, don't know wrong. $1,200 bucks an hour is fucking amazing. But I mean, I mean, come on. Not nine p. Could we do noon?

Could we do it like a more normal? Whatever happened to a good midday foot. Yeah, exactly. If you're going to sit there and lick and suck my toes and shit, at least can we just do it at lunchtime? Come on now. Perhaps on a nice veranda with witnesses. Yeah, and an olive garden in public.

In an olive garden. Yeah, a tour of Italy and some tutsies, dude. Come on now. Yeah, the manager of olive garden comes by. It's like, um, ma'am and you're like, I'm getting $1,200 for this. Oh, right. Right away. Also, yeah, like the manager of an olive garden is going to give a fuck.

They're going to be like, you want more breadsticks? That's all they'd say. You love to just talk down Olive Garden. I've never had a bad time at an Olive Garden. It's not that good. It's really not. You don't know what you're doing then. You get the Nogis soup and you get the calamari.

And then you get the angel hair with the 5 cheese mariner and it's delicious. God, you sat. There's something going on with your voice today. sound deathly. Are you sick? No, I've been talking to people all day, so it's probably a little. A little strained. Well, let me tell you. Yeah, probably. Our listeners are going to suffer this episode, buddy.

The way you said angel hair made my skin crawl. Anything, that should be the whole. You should do all the voices. By the end of this, it just sounds like a goddamn throat went through a cheese grater. Angel hair? I'm actually quite enjoying making you do most of the reading this time. That is true. You've done the heavy lifting. You've done the heavy lifting.

Yeah, this is just like saying the homophobic things in an episode. This is your cross to bear, not mine. If it's the cross, I must carry, then I will carry it. She hung up before I could say anything else. You did not just do that. Do you realize how dangerous this could be? If you don't want to come with me, that's fine. But I'm not going to pass up this opportunity.

She pressed her tongue on the inside of her cheek. I don't like this. I don't like living off a teacher's salary. took an energy drink out of the fridge to help me finish grading my classes worksheets while Wren left the kitchen with a huff of disapproval the next day a black van stop in front of the house back door listen not even a sliding door the back door opened oh my god you're only two empty seats

at least we're at least we aren't alone yeah that's you're getting murdered black a black 1986 Chevy Astro get in in the back fuck that When have you ever seen someone get in the back seats of a car from the back of the van? Fuck that. In movies where people get kidnapped.

That is true. Probably Black phone. Black phone was probably the last one. After making sure I had my wallet and pepper spray, I stepped into the van. Fresh meat. The woman to my left said, Excuse me? Red parked at her.

I put my hand on my back to signal that maybe it wasn't the best time to get into a fight. You're new. fresh meat whoever this character is I already don't like that I don't like that already she's gonna have a stripper name I can already tell you that it's like that kind of quirky Harley Quinn attitude one million percent

I cleared my throat as the inside of the van began to close in what's your name I needed at least one friend there and she was the first person to acknowledge me Crystal and you are oh my god alright there you god I mean

can I at least get a bear trap there that was Holy molly that was free in my head in my head I was like what would constitute a stripper name

but that yeah it's just like Crystal and you are should I I feel like I should give her like a bit of a crystal

and you are a little cigarette ras yeah oh yeah I've been grinding the poles all night sweetie Alice I pointed my thumb

at my partner or Rinn. How'd I got a two for one deal with y'all. Roommates and... Or both. Oh. Oh. Crystal, you are a character.

You're... What's saving you, that cigarette voice is doing a lot of the heavy lifting on that slur. I'm not going to lie to save you. I'm going to say, yeah. Immediately constituting the cigarette thrash and then getting hit with a... It's just crazy.

crazy back to back. I mean, the bear traps like, it's like that in scene and mouse hunt, when do they have like a million mouse traps set up? It's like that was bear traps this episode. I'm in a scary house, but don't worry about that. Instead, what you should be worried about is getting in on today's sponsor, Ultra Pouches. You know, believe it or not,

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Plus with flavors from cool mint to watermelon, I'm sure there's a flavor out there you'll love. Perhaps they can even help me get through this purgatory of a podcast. It's not because of you all or I don't enjoy the show. It's just, you've seen the guy I have to do this with. Ultra is the ultimate gift-free pouch, delivering instant focus and mental clarity without the need for nicotine or caffeine. And right now, if you head to the link in the description at Take Ultra.com and use the discount code creepcast, you can get your ultra pouches for 15 percent off. That's right, 15 percent off. Once again, that's take ultra.com and discount code

creepcast, all one word, to get in on their offer today. And if after your purchase, you could let them know that we sent you, we'd really appreciate it. Thank you to Ultra for sponsoring the show. Their link will be in the description, and we are now back to the episode. I pressed down on Wren's shoulder, keeping her from getting out of her seat. I take you've worked here for a while then. She nodded. We all have. Looked at all the women in the back row. Different ages, races, and sexes assigned to birth. So you like working here then?

She shrugged. It pays the bills. It pays for designer. Drain her fingertips across her chest, flaunting her Chanel necklace. Can't complain. We spent the rest of the ride in silence. Howard greeted us as we entered the studio. Welcome back to True Nech, ladies.

We have some new members joining us. So make sure to be welcoming. A short man in a black polo and khakis handed him a clipboard before walking away. Let's see here. He put on thin-frame glasses, accentuating his beady little blue eyes. Crystal, Daisy, and Amber. You're with Fred. Cherry and Jade, you're with George.

Allison Wren, you're with Dave. Clap his hands and walked over to us. Everyone to their places. Chop, chop. Rang grabbed my hand and squeezed. Where exactly are we going? She asked, as everyone dispersed? I would smile. Room 106!

Depending on what we're shooting, you'll be either in a room or outside the parking lot. Today, we'll start simple. Follow me. I think I'd rather be in the parking lot or people can see me. I would love to do this on asphalt if possible. No, no, no. This is Crystal's territory. Yeah. Keep me outside to burn. Yeah.

Flip me when I start the char. Flip me. Flip me with that start to shock We Yeah, Fred over there We call him spatula Okay, all right

It was fine Until you brought a man Into the equipment Like the implication was there You didn't have to If Fred was just introducing The story Mm-hmm

Call him the spatula We followed him to a bright room With pretty standard photography equipment soft box lighting kits illuminated a gray leather couch that stood at the center of white backdrop. Dave, meet our new girls. Howard said while the photographer messed with this camera. I'm going to check on the rest of our ladies. You kids play nice now. I mean, my God. Yeah, very creepy. No question. Dave looked at us with a sinister gleam in his eyes.

Nice. He crouched down to get a closer look at our legs. you have a birthmark he became Spanish between those lines he said as he he poked the side of my right ankle you want to cover it no it's it's fine

I responded not seeing the danger in such a small mark being visible he said his camera on the tripod and beckoned us over to the couch where he handed us a pair of black songs Hey, hey, where? Put this on. I did as directed, Rent.

Why are these so cool? He says, I did as directed. Rind begrudgingly followed. As a silent command, he handed us hot pink stilettos. All right. Lace you started. For now, just do it feel natural. With no other direction, I crossed my legs.

Blinding flashes of light erupted in the already bright room. Metallic clicks filled my ears as Dave took the photos. Ooh, nice. So I tried a few other positions. I noticed Wren wasn't moving. I thought she just wasn't sure how to pose. Just do what I do. I said, trying to be encouraging.

Right, because you're such an expert. With a sigh, I lay on my back and raise my legs, so they were completely vertical, prompting Wren to do the same. Hold that. Do not move a vlogging millimeter. He said, as the camera shutter sank, finally, an hour had passed.

Howard came back and gave us our payment in cash as promised. Same time tomorrow? The following gigs were pretty standard. After a long day of teaching and grading papers, I'd put on heels, ballet slippers, or Doc Martins, and posts to show off my legs or feet, depending on the day. Sometimes we even shot close-ups of our knees. We wore fishnets or sheer tights here and there, but Howard said our viewers preferred to see as much of our skin as possible.

I wasn't going to complain when we were getting free routine pedicures. Crystal and I had begun getting close. For my first week, she invited me out for drinks after a shoot. How's Howie treating you? She asked before taking a sip of her apparel spreads. Good. Will that change? How long have you and your wife have been together?

Five years. You're lucky you were recruited together. This job is something you can easily explain. It's just modeling. For now. All right. It's leading somewhere here. Yeah.

Where are we going? It'll get worse. I feel like you remember that story, normal porn for normal people. It's all just kind of bizarre videos, but then there's a chimpanzee that beats a woman to death. As a part of first creepy,

our first crew pasta grab bag. Yeah, yeah, that's how I feel right now. I have a feeling you're actually, you know, what you're probably right. It is probably going to be something like that

where it's like, it'll be something super weird. Yeah, take this fish and beat it to death. You're like, what? Yeah. Step on.

Or what's, you know, this is really graphic. for the audience, but you know about crush videos, right? Do I know about crush videos? Yeah. Well, I don't really want to, but it's this genre of like extreme pornography where it's like women crushing small animals to death with their feet and stuff.

It's super evil, illegal and stuff like that. But I imagine this may be going in that direction where it's like, okay, now you have to step on like a small animal or something like that. I see. Like weird fetish content. The money we were earning went to the typical bills, car payments, and student loans, leaving us enough to enjoy the quiet luxuries of a morning Starbucks coffee and brand-named groceries. Though I couldn't help but feel twinges of jealousy when Crystal would show me the new designer clothes and jewelry she bought.

I asked Howard about how Wren and I could increase our earnings, and as soon as the words left my mouth, sinister smile spread across his face. He led us to the studio's parking lot, our usual white backdrop set up. This is where we film our more exclusive content. Howard said as a group of interns filled a plastic bin with a viscous red liquid. What's that? That is the blood you're going to be dipping your feet into. Here we go.

You're not serious. Howard smooth the front of his blazer with his pale hands. It's very simple. All you have to do is dip your feet inside, move around a bit. Very simple. There's huge market for it. It's oversaturated, actually, but with a top site for a reason. Absolutely not.

Ran angrily grabbed my wrist. We're leaving. Started walking, but I didn't move. We are leaving, aren't we? Howard smirked. You're free to go, Alice, but it's double to pay for so little work, and it only gets better from here. Look to the pool of blood and stifled the nausea rising inside my stomach. Where exactly did the blood come from?

I asked as if that would make things better. A local butcher. I weighed my options. I could leave penniless or shoot a simple video. Pulled away from Rens Grasp and said pathetically, I'll see you at home. The shoot started progressively getting more intense. Tarantulas and snakes were placed under the threat of my fish nets.

Hissing cockroaches roamed the expanse of my legs. After a scene involving hundreds of acupuncture needles, Crystal and I went out for a midnight snack. One of Howard's many drivers took a to a local fast food joint. You're lucky when not filming your face. Crystal said with a mouth full of fries. Why's that?

What do you mean, why is that? You're fucking rolling around in blood and spiders. Why wouldn't I want my face in it? Also, you're a teacher. Why would I want? Why is I a teacher of children? Would I not want people to know I do that kind of thing? I asked, picking my grilled chicken sandwich,

picking out my grilled chicken sandwich. It's how it implied our viewers would rate my content higher if I lost a few pounds. I've been watching what I ate. You look terrible. I've grown just my hands rubbed the side of my face. Deep purple eyebags started to push through the skin of my face. I know, I know. I haven't been sleeping lately.

Nightmares. I could still feel last week's synopedes. You need to relax, girl. How's wifey? Still not happy with me. Maybe she's right. We were doing fine before. Maybe I should quit.

Maybe you should. I did it. Not that night anyway. Instead, I bought new swimsuits and dragged her into the beach. I land the sand with her and watched the ebb and flow of ocean waves. Setting in new beach chairs who drank Smirnoffs and compared seashell collections. She told me about her coworkers who were definitely screwing, but constantly denied it. For a moment, things felt normal.

We were walking along the shore when a football landed at our feet. I saw one of my students jog up to me. Rare but not necessarily unwelcome occurrence. Sorry about that. When he leaned down to pick it up, he jolted backwards. His face turning a sickening wipe before he sprinted away. I looked down thinking he saw a crab or bug of sorts, but all I saw was my right ankle. Yeah, maybe don't put identifying birth marks on extreme fetish websites.

Oh, yeah. One night, as usual, I entered the studio, following Howard to the parking lot. I noticed the camera wasn't at its usual height. Instead, it was much lower. We're going to try something new today. He said before taking a Kiwi out of his pocket and unceremoniously dropping it onto the ground. With an aggressive stomp, he crushed the fruit. Seeds and green flesh splattered on the pavement.

Simple enough? Yep, here it goes. Here it goes. We're getting there. I nodded. I could see the appeal for the ASMR, if not fetish purposes. Dave handed me a pair of incredibly uncomfortable louvittons and positioned me in front of the camera. An intern holding a cardboard box dumped the contents at my feet.

guinea pigs and bear trap and i was right sadly normal corn for normal people what a bear trap isaiah all right well let's get this show on the road dave said so incredibly casually interns stood crouched at both ends of the set to keep them from escaping i saw the confusion on my face just like i showed you said with the dark smile i was absolutely stunned you're kidding right desperately hoping this was all a big joke. Our clients pay top dollar for premium content. No fucking way. I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

It's a thousand for each one. I looked at the small creatures indocently roaming around. 6,000. I shook my head and kicked off my shoes. I'm done. You always welcome back if you change your mind. Just give us a call. Hired handed me another business card, this time with a different number.

As I swarmed off, I swore I heard him say. You'll be back. Wren was ecstatic. when I told her I quit, even suggesting we go out to celebrate my newfound freedom. Another month of the fall semester passed, and I had almost forgotten about the whole thing. I was cleaning out my purse when Howard's business card fell out. Went to throw it away until I realized I never read the back. There was a password.

My eyes widened. Quickly, I pulled up my phone, entering the password for True Nisha's exclusive tab. Innocent thumbnails and gruesome titles greeted me. Frogstomp, Roach Crush, Kitten Squish. each video had at least a four-star rating. I thought I was lucky for quitting when I did. Like she does every month, Wren went to visit her mom in the next town over.

I wanted to go with her as I usually did, but my schedule kept me from doing so. Because goodbye, she left the house. That afternoon, I checked my emails and saw one from Principal Kane, saying I needed to attend an urgent meeting with her at the end of the day. My lesson on Fahrenheit 4.51 passed far too quickly. Good afternoon, Miss Mendez. greeted Cain.

You know Emma's mother, Miss Davis, I assume. Turned to the woman sitting in the gray office chair. Yes, of course. I gave a smile that didn't reach my eyes. We've spoken many times. Sit in the chair next to her and looked back at Cain. What's this about? Can you explain the reading list you gave your students?

Screw my life, I thought. Yes, ma'am. This year, my students have an AP exam in which they write an essay based on a book of their choosing. I gave a list of college level. books for them to choose from, can you listen to of these books please? There's 1984, the handmaidens tale, the picture of Dorian Gray, that one.

Interrupted, Miss Davis. That's the one my daughter was reading. I looked into it, and it was highly inappropriate. I cleared my throat. Your child is in a college level class, and therefore she'll be exposed to more mature literature. If you have an issue with the particular book, Emma has plenty

of more to choose from. Exactly my point. The books you have suggested are pornographic. Like that. Lolita one. Clinched my fist, just Gaines started speaking. What exactly is the issue?

The book is literally about pedophilia. It's absolutely ridiculous. Mrs. Mendez, is that true? I swallowed the lump beginning to form in my throat. There's no way for me to win this. The book follows an adult character who has an inappropriate attraction to children, which the book in no way glamorizes or encourages.

I blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. It's on the official reading list for AP literature. Dang side. Regardless, you've gotten too many complaints from parents these past few years, especially regarding the GSA club you run. Now, I've defended you in the past, but we've had too many parents share concern about your influence on our students.

I will, unfortunately, have to terminate your contract effective immediately. Please have your room cleared before you leave. Hey, can you explain why students read these books? Well, yeah, you know, they're famous books that you'd learn in college. I love that the principal, I love that the principal too is just like, I have no idea what these books are. Please tell me. It's like, what? What?

Why don't you know what these are? The principal of a school that has an AP literature course have never heard of Lodita, the picture of Tori and Gray, Fahrenheit 451. I can't. And also, people are complaining. So you got to go. So we're going to fire a teacher, an AP teacher in the middle of the semester right now. It'll be fine. It'll be fine.

The rest of the day was a blur. One moment I was in Kane's office and the next I was on my couch crying. I called ran hundreds of times only to be left on voicemail. And I thought the day couldn't get any worse. I got a call from her mother. As soon as I accepted the call,

I was met with uncontrollable sobbing. I already started racing. What's wrong? Stopped, Michelle. Home, why? What's wrong? Is you run with you? She's in the hospital.

My blood ran cold. I felt my face turned wide. What? Get down here as soon as you can. Inside the sterile hospital room, I saw something that looked like my wife, except she never slept on her back. Needles and tubes were shoved throughout her entire body. Brown skin was abnormally pale, not sun-kissed with gorgeous handlines.

She didn't even smell like herself. Her mom and doctor explained what happened. A hit and run. Not sure when or if she'll wake up. The cost. God, the bills. We had money saved, but it was nowhere near enough to cover the extent of her injuries. For what I put her through, I owed her the best care I could buy.

I excused myself at the hallway and rummaged through my purse until I found it. Called the number and was greeted by Howard's voice. 6,000 isn't enough, Howard. Dave handed me a pair of chunky black combat boots and led me to the man tied up on the ground. Patches of gray hair grew on his otherwise bald head. Lever Spots created constellations on his aged face. His clothes had a layer of dirt and reeked of cigarettes. Screaming was muffled by the duct tape covering his mouth.

I believe 50,000 is more than a suitable offer. 75. His eyes widened. Almost proud look spread across his face. He'll now. Just like we discussed. Dave started the camera. I rubbed the front of my boot over the side of the man's face until I reached his temple.

Lifted my right foot and with no hesitation. dropped it down. A man grunted with each impact. Blood spurred it onto the asphalt atop of my leg. I looked down as he shattered pieces of teeth that shot out of his mouth. His skull caved in wet cracks that made my stomach turn. With each stomp, my foot got closer to the ground until I finally stepped into a pool of pure flesh and brain matter.

Once the camera turned off, I collapsed. Dry heaving, his sweat dripped down the side of my face. I felt Howard approaching me and without even looking at him, I knew he was smiling. Drop the cash in front of me. Well done. I'm sure Red will be thankful.

I took the money and stood up. Nothing left to my humanity. I asked. Same time tomorrow. And that is the end of the story. After that, the author has a note that says this is my first real attempted horrors. Please let me know your thoughts.

And then the story got taken off of no sleep at 144 upvotes for quote, victimization. victimization. You know what? It's a fun little, it's a fun tale. I like the idea of people,

especially like teachers, getting into, I guess, almost graphic pornography just because they're not paid enough. I think it's kind of interesting. There's a lot of things I think if you did take a longer crack at the story,

like I really like the, what I thought was going to happen is, so the person sets up that the woman's complaining about like the stories being too graphic. or whatever. I thought there was going to be more of a tie-in of my son's been watching your videos online or something. You know what I mean?

Like something along those lines to have those connect a bit more. And I think, um, I also think just as like if just I guess for subjective thoughts, I think teachers earn so little that I don't know if you have to have Wren go into like a horrible mangled, hospitalized state. I do think, I do think there needs to be. an event. Either you make it at the beginning that they're about to lose the house or something.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Or the accident. You need, you need an event where it's like, I have to have money now because they may not be surviving well, but a Chanel necklace isn't a good enough reason to do, you know, the violence. I'm just saying, I think you got to choose one. I think either you lose the job or you have a hospital thing. Having them both be both back to back, I was like, eh, but, but, you know, I think like, I knew what they were going there. Like, you have to have an event that's like that's the catalyst that brings them back in and stuff. But you know, I think like if it was expanded upon, I do like the idea of like, you know, having such an innocent job and then basically resorting to such a cruel and

disgusting trade or whatever and having to do that in secrecy. There's a lot that you could actually expand that story on, which is pretty fun. I think it's a good idea. I liked it. I thought it was a well done story. If it went farther, let me ask you this real quick. quick. If it went farther, would that be considered, I keep seeing stories like, I know that we've touched on this briefly, but like splatter, like, what's the genre? Splatterpunk.

Splatterpunk, yeah, yeah. Would that be the same thing or is that not? Or is it just a different thing? I feel like not this story, uh, because splatter punk is kind of all about the descriptions of the violence and the gore and stuff like that. It's almost like pornographic, but it's about, you know, people exploding or blood or whatever. I see. Um, I feel like the actual videos would probably be considered splatter punk adjacent. So splatterpunk is like it would like really go into depth and detail about how the guinea pigs and shrewing and stuff. Yeah, and like the organs and the grossness and the squelching and things.

I feel like that'd be more attached to it where like the visuals that are being described are more so. This is just kind of like a kind of kind of gory, at least at the end, you know, horror story I'd say. But I like the direction. I like the idea of like this person getting desperate and getting drawn into this bad world. I like the quick mention of the kid seeing the birth

mark that she wasn't afraid of in the beginning but should have been. I feel like I agree with you, Hunter, that if you're going to take it there, then maybe she gets fired because someone identified the birth mark to kind of bring a full circle. That would be kind of fun. And then she loses her credibility.

There's a lot of you can do too with like the interpersonal because that would also be a reason. because I feel like the, like sure there's dumb principles, but her getting fired is a little too like extreme. But if she was found to be on these websites, that would be a reason they'd fire a teacher right away. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Versus just being like, oh, your AP stuff is what you've upset the parents. Your 17 year old students know what Lolita is fired immediately. I think that. But these are really nitpicks only because the author asked for feedback. I thought it was a great story. And I really would like to see the author do, more. That was very well done. I thought it was also going to go to a thing where

she goes back, she gets tipped to too much with the like vanity and the kind of like the wealth to where Wren would leave her and then she gets distracted at work. So then they like bring her in and she has to like, you know, she like is master something and then like she stomps on her or kills her and then it's like basically like does something horrible in pursuit of this like you know to her spouse or like to her partner or whatever. would be interesting too but yeah i don't know it was a lot of fun i like that one um i thought that was a good one everyone take a moment small golf clubs guys are you doing it i'm doing it very good support for today's episode comes from square

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Creepcast at checkout. Just head to LolaBlankets.com and use code Creepcast. After your purchase, last where you heard about them, please support our show and let them know where we sent you. Thanks, guys, back to the episode. The next one we have lined up here is the smell in the boys' restroom is getting worse. does it get worse. This is by a username named flush fries.

Flesh fries post a lot in creepcast and tells from the creeps and stuff again. Active member of the community. Someone kill me. But they have it tagged as supernatural. So Hunter, you ready for some supernatural scares? Let's do it. I'm ready to smell in the boys' room.

I'm sure you are. The smell in the boys' restroom is getting worse. Smell had gotten worse somehow. When we first walked into the eighth grade boys restroom, it was only a mild stitch, one that you and your buddy acknowledge and then move on. Within 15 minutes, it had gone from mild to unbearable. Can I just give a quick, can I just give a quick story real quick? Because this is just a big, this literally happened to me in eighth grade two.

We walked into the restroom one time. Because like in schools, there's usually like bigger restrooms and there's like some that have the smaller ones, you know. We went into the smaller one next to like, science classes and stuff. And we walked in and someone was obviously just like decimating the land. I mean, it was so bad. You say that like it's westward expansion.

It was. It was. They were salting the natural supplies. They were salting the earth basically. It was horrible. But you're waiting in line. You're doing whatever. And this kid walks in. He does oh my. Does the Dracula cover with his arm, you know? He says, oh my God. What's going on? I don't know who the person of the bathroom was. I didn't stay there long enough to see who came out,

but you just saw his shoes. And while he was talking, his shoes were like shuffling. He was just like, leave me alone. And the kid was like, this smells like carrots in here. Behind the stall, you just what the kid do. I hate carrots.

And that became, I mean, I hate carrots. Just like the most putrid shit smell ever. I hate carrots. so that I give me a thing where yeah we'd be at lunch we'd be like I hate carrots funny story I hate cow it's when I think of the bathroom for the story I think of the one I told the story in previously when we played Bloody Mary and they just beat me with a bag full of basketballs

you remember that story right just beat me with a bag full of the bag full of the bag must have been so comically large against your tiny body Oh, it was bigger than I was. Oh, yeah. I can only imagine. Guys, please. There was another time I was in that bathroom and there was a younger, I was like seventh grade, I think, and there was a kid in the sixth grade or whatever who thought I had made fun of them, which I don't even remember the context. I don't think I had or anything, but he just decided he was going to fight me one day.

And just because? Well, he was just like a mad kid who was always like breaking stuff or whatever. So he was just like, this guy pissed me off. So he's going to be like and pisses me off. Yeah. So he's just going to come like fight me while I'm in the bathroom or the locker room. And someone had kind of mentioned it to me earlier that day, but I didn't think anything of it. And then I was in the locker.

I was in the locker room before basketball practice. And I was changing in there and I was standing up. the kid walked in and like three other kids walked in behind him. And I looked up at him and I acknowledged he was there. And then I looked down at my shoes. And then I hear some movement. And then all of a sudden, I'm thrown directly into the lockers.

And what had happened is as soon as I looked away, he ran at me and double legs in the air like did a flying kick. He did a scissor kicked me straight into the locker. doors and I didn't get hurt that bad because he mostly pushed me into the lockers but he landed like his back directly on the bench in the middle of the room so he kicks me I fall over and he's like oh he's back if you can if you can please please try to reenact the the sound you made when you got hit because I have I have I have a sound in my mind that you made, but I need it to see if

it matches. It's probably like, did you get that? I think Discord has cut it out. I can't hear it. I don't know if you can't hear me, but I just imagine it was, no, it was, I can't. I'm going to have to wait

to this fucking episode to end it to fucking hear the stupid sound. I need to hear it so bad. Hold on a lot. I'm going to send you. a voice memo it? Yeah, give me a voice memo. This is such a stupid way to do this. Have fun with that. Just sent it to you.

That's fair. That's getting Cesar kicked into a locker. I mean, just completely unexpected to. Yeah, yeah. From, yeah, out of fucking left field. But it didn't hurt me that bad, but he got hurt. So he stands up and he's like crying.

And he runs out. and gets the coach or whatever and says that I beat him up. Really? Yeah, well, I came out and I'm like, he just kicked. He just kicked me. I don't know what happened.

Yeah, yeah, two Doc Martin. I runs on your chest. Yeah, I'm like, yeah, here's my arm. I got kicked in the arm. And I don't even think he got in trouble

or anything. I think the coach was just like, hey, cut that out. Like, whatever. Hey, stop that. But anyway, that's the locker room I'm imagining for this story. Anyway.

Let's just start from the top. We were three. Yeah. We've ruined. We've ruined. Sorry. I immediately fucked that up. The smell had gotten worse somehow.

When we first walked into the eighth grade boys' restroom, it was only a mild stench, one that you and your buddy acknowledged and then move on. Within 15 minutes, it had gone from mild to unbearable. My friend Percy gagged when we walked past the floor drain that was fuming with the smell. Being janitors,

where you saw sorts of horrible sights and smell. shit filled, backed up toilets, used tampons stuck to the inside of a backless garbage can, ripped open garbage bags filled with half-eaten lunches, now crawling with maggots, you name it. This was worse somehow. It was somewhere between rotten eggs and burning hair, but it had some other kind of quality to it, like sweat. It smelled alive. Oh. Percy and I sprayed air fresheners best we could, but it kept crawling back out of the drain pipe on the floor. and expanded in the air.

We might ought to call the gas people. Couldn't be a leak. I agreed and we put the out of order sign on the door and locked it. When the gas line inspector showed up, we took him to the restroom. But when we opened the door, the smell hit us. It was like being hit on the bridge at the nose with the baseball bat. Percy gagged, the gas inspector shot backwards. And I said something that was a fireable offense.

It had built up in there. and now we can taste it. The gas man put a mask on and went in. A minute later he returned and took off his mask with a deep gas, wiped the sweat from his forehead. Well, there's no gas leak and nothing toxic was found. Maybe an animal got stuck at the pipes and died. I don't know.

Open some windows and hope for the best, but for the love of God, do not let anyone in here. Whatever you do. Yeah, for the love of God, keep them out. You don't have to worry about this. that. I bet one of these middle schoolers did something. They've always, they're always doing something stupid. Percy

laughed and said. I remember in eighth grade. I tried to bring my hamster school, so I put him in a jar, but forgot to poke some air holes and you know, he died. The gas man said. I don't see how that's funny. I didn't say it was.

This is the most awkward conversation. Okay, well, I'm going to go. I'll see you later. That beat for read like you talking to Nick. That's true. That is true. Just him being like,

I remember I accidentally suffocate a hamster to death. How was that funny? I didn't say it was funny. After Percy and I got our own masks and goggles on, he ventured back in and tried opening the windows. The old piece of ship painted shut windows wouldn't give. It was a balancing act between being forceful and not breaking the old window.

School hadn't been renovated since the 90s, and most of it was in bad shape. Cracked paint gave way to cinderblock, exposed walls, dead roaches around every corner, history books that stopped just after 9-11. The list goes on. I don't know what else anyone would expect. The town the high school was in only had about 3,000 residents, most of which were elderly. Strap on Percy's cheap face mask snapped and he started gagging. Told him to tie it, but his eyes filled with tears is gas for air.

He started shaking so violently I thought he was going to gonna break. Air started squeezing through his throat as he tried to breathe. His face turned red and tears mixed with the snod and the foamy thick saliva that slid out of his gasping mouth. I had a drag him back out of the restroom and slammed the door back before the smell got out, but it was too late. A couple of teachers, Coach Tompkins, and an older student ran up and helped me pull Percy to the stairs so he could sit up. Coach tried to ask what the hell was going on, but he dry heaved, spit and walked outside towards the cafeteria. The student got Percy some water and one teacher ran to get the nurse.

What's going on in the boys' room? The remaining teacher asked. I don't know. Something dead, I think, but it can't be. It smells beyond worse than death. I looked over to Percy who was calmer, but still suffering. Student asked the teacher. You think it's some biological weapon like the communist had?

The teacher shook his head and said, what? No. It's rare in these stories that people play comedic beats that don't kill the tension. That was a good one. Yeah, that was great. Just some stupid kid. What?

No. What the fuck you're talking about? The communist. It's 2025. What the fuck are you talking about? I don't even think you've ever met a communist. Sorry, I just saw a red dawn. So I'm just,

are we going to get a shoot at him yet? Go home. School's over. What are you doing here? Percy started blowing his nose into a shoe. and once he was out of snot, he kept rubbing and rubbing and picking and blowing until blood started coming out. I can still smell it. Fuck me. I can still smell it. I don't smell anything out here. Me either. Fuck you! You didn't smell it as long as I did. None of you did!

The principal, who I didn't even notice, walked up, and told Percy Fernley to go home until he felt better, which he did. That night, at about 3 a.m., my apartment vibrated for three minutes. By the time I was awake enough to make decisions, it was over. Next morning, I asked my downstairs neighbor about it and he said it was an earthquake. Earthquake? What happened in California or desert? No one happened here. I thought the last one was over a hundred years ago, but I was wrong.

There had been one that night in the night before, but that one was one of those that was only technically an earthquake, the kind you don't feel. That morning, the smell was now coming from the drain in the girls' restroom as well as the boys. I was unfortunate to catch a whiff, smelled angry, like if burning curdled toe cheese was oozing with hatred. Good God. Halfway through the day, the power went out, so school was let out early for the weekend, that Monday was a holiday, which meant a whole extra day for the smell to build up more. Percy hadn't shown up for work, and after I left, I tried calling him.

After the third unanswered call, I drove to his trailer. The door was broken off the hinges, and every window sliddle. open and if they didn't slide they were broken. His cat's litter box had been thrown out in the front yard. Poked my head in the door. Hey, hey Percy, it's Lenny. Are you all right? Sin of citrus hit me first, followed by mint and fresh pine. It was so strong it was more of a chemical smell than anything.

Inside hanging from everywhere and covering every surface was car air freshener trees and the peel top cans. All the fans were on max. I made my way to the back bedroom where I could hear moaning. Saw what I thought was a towel, but it was his cat. It laid there with a zip tie pulled tight around its neck. Tongue and eyes were swollen, sticking out at nothing. Jesus.

Just garrotted his cat, my word. Percy shrieked from the bedroom. Who is it? What? What do you want? I got to his bedroom doorframe and looked in. He was lying on his bed covered in splotches of blood that ran from where his nose used to be, down his mouth and on his hands. He kept scratching and picking at it. Part of his upper lip was gone.

Just teeth and bloody gum shined back at me. It sounded like when you pick your fingernails, but it was deeper and wetter as he dug deeper into his nasal cavity. Meat and skin were under his broken fingernails. Tears ran down his face. The smell won't go away. It won't go away. Why don't you want to help me? I said, what the fuck did you do?

Cried so hard, he started to hiccup. I don't know. It smells so bad. I really, like off the title, I thought this would be kind of a more goofy, you know, whatever, but I really like the direction

this is taking, yeah, it's all of fun. Like a supernatural smell to get into it. That's cool. This is probably like a very, uh,

I don't know if this is cringe to say or whatever, but it's reading almost like a fucking Junji Ito, uh, manga. Like I'm picturing that, yeah, yeah. It has like a very Japanese,

cadence to the way that it's almost like a folk tale or something, you know, like it has that appeal or it has that like feel to me. It feels very similar to the, uh, the spiral obsession in Uzumaki. Yeah. Like his, uh, at the beginning, the girl, I forget her name, but the girl's mom, or the guy's mom, um, after her husband dies, starts to become obsessed with spirals. So she eventually digs out her cochlea because she thinks there's a spiral in her head. It's very reminiscent of that. It reminds me of the, of the, uh,

grease story. Like the obsession of grease and the kid. Oh, yeah. It's rubbing grease all over his face and he's like popping his pimples and shit. It's giving me that feel. That end panel where all of the best pimples on the pace fog and they're all so bad. So bad. Oh, man.

After the ambulance took him away, I went home and got drunk while I watched cartoons. I thought of. Is this guy you? No. No. No. I thought about it all. the smell, Percy, the earthquakes.

Nothing seemed normal about any of it. This is incredibly, uh, Junji Ito, now that you mention it, like between the earthquakes, like the natural earth happened. Yeah, yeah. It's like an evil unearthed from the, you know what I mean? It has that. Yeah, yeah. It's some ancient thing that we're, because most of Edos stories are about like an event, right?

That's like a symptom of some greater evil or entity that you don't really get an explanation on. It feels like that. Yeah. I woke up in a cold sweat. later that afternoon after a shitty couch nap. Something, possibly the 10 cans of 60-ounce Pats Blue Ribbon I drank, was telling me that the earthquakes and the smell at the school were connected. The doors to the school would be locked, but Ida Key. The lights were still out on that side of town, but I had an LED lantern. Got my heavy-duty face mask, gloves,

goggles, and boots. I stopped by a hardware store and grabbed one of those plastic suits with the hood you used for painting and a roll of duct tape. My homemade hazmat suit was ready to go. I never like the dark hallways of an empty school. Most places, when they're empty, still have use. Being the only customer in a store is fine. The only person at a gas station is fine. But an empty dark school is like a corpse. No function, just stillness.

My footsteps echoed as I made my way through the halls towards the eighth grade side. Other than my breathing, I could hear the soft, prickly little scurries of roaches as they fled from the light of my lantern. Are there so many of them? When I came through my mask, I could tell the smell was worse and had filled the hallways. I couldn't imagine how bad it would have been if I opened the door to the bathroom. The floors creaked and felt more slanted than usual. Flashlight beam shone across the corner in front of me, and I couldn't turn my lantern off in time before the flashlight blinded me.

The muffled voice of Coach Tompkins called out. Who's there? Sounded like he wanted to shoot me. It's Lady the janitor. He walked up to me. He had an army surplus gas mask on. continued our conversation in the back alley behind the school maskless what are you doing here i asked

could ask you the same thing prong around i heard i heard about your buddy real fucked up yeah no shit i think whatever's in the bathroom's got something to do with it same here he looked off and then back you hear about the winters girl no what happened he sighed and rubbed his head over his mask she had been in the girl's restroom this morning

and she got sick in my class and threw up. As the power went out, I'm telling you, I'm usually not one to believe in haunted devils and shit, but something didn't feel right about the whole thing. Plus, she threw up on the keyboard of one of the computers, and those are a bitch to clean. You heard about the earthquakes, didn't you? Sure did.

I felt it. I bet I was the only one that knew what was happening last night. He looked off and sniffed. In the restroom, it smelled almost as bad as the first day, only with the mask on. We pried the drain cover off the floor and shone a light down. There was nothing. Not as in nothing in the pipe.

There was no pipe. There was nothing. The massive cavernous space was below us. Coach trembled and he lost his grip on the little flashlight and slipped into the drain hole. We watched, mouths a gap as it tumbled and twisted silently until it was a pinpoint of light in what might as well have been a sky of darkness. In the hallway, coach and I just stared at each other and back at the door of the boys' restroom. We gotta call the cops.

The fuck's the cop's gonna do. We gotta call the army or something, the National Guard. Scientist? Anybody. I stood there for a minute before turning back to him. Does the automotive class still have the really long spool of metal wire? I know like, oh, he's attaching a camera. Okay.

I was about to think they were going down there and I'm like, okay. But the camera, the camera makes sense. Yeah. Upstairs in Coach Tompkins' STEM room, he attached a 360 degree GoPro camera to a selfie stick while I rolled the barrel of wire from the vocation building to the hallway in front of the restroom. We tied the guitar string thin wire to the end of the stick along with another small flashlight on the camera and triple duct taped everything solid. How much wire you think we have? I'd say about eight miles or more.

We hit record on the camera, turned the flashlight on, and we slowly fished it down into the abyss. I don't know how much time went by, but we still had not reached the bottom. The wire started giving off that tapping sound that travels from one end to the other, like the slinky sound. Before I could tell Coach, that's where they got the blaster sounds in Star Wars from, it started really moving as if we caught a live one. We didn't like the sound of that, so pull the camera back up much quicker than we had let it down. It was still several minutes before it came back to us. Coach put on a rubber gloves, I handed him to stick with the camera.

He stopped recording and went to the tiny playback menu. We watched ourselves as we lowered the camera in, and we eventually, along with the train opening, disappeared into the distance. Flashlight didn't even illuminate anything. Whatever cavern or cave that opened up beneath the bathroom was huge, possibly under the entire school property. We didn't think about that and sped through the solid black footage. He hit regular speed again and we heard what we thought was water, then maybe it was humming? We weren't sure.

Then we saw them. I thought they were grubs the way they convulsed and how many there were. Then I saw the hair and the shoulders and the arms and the hands. Brown and green bones, yellow, mud-like skin that fell and shifted as they all shuffled around over each other, all moving, all moaning, most crying. Some welled and looked more human than the others, and some were only moving rot. They saw us. They turned and all stared at the light.

They all reached for it as if it would save them. Their glistening eyes were the worst part. The wailing gave way to shouting, begging. One grabbed the camera and pulled it close. That's when the camera was pulled from his hands as they disappeared back into the darkness, still calling out. I could make out words, but I chose not to hear them. It was frozen.

Coach Tompkins was not. We gotta- we gotta get the fuck out of here. We gotta- we gotta get the fuck out of here. Start panicking, but was just walking in circles. my god i can't breathe in this fucking mask he threw it off let's just go man let's just go how can we do anything how can he went into a coughing fit with spit stringing down his mouth i'd either ignored it or didn't notice it before but now i couldn't the building started shaking again much more than the previous earthquake i heard them down there he sobbed and grabbed me but i

shoved him off what do we do lennie we get the fuck out of here now i turn and went towards the direction of the back door before i heard the massive of rumble and crashes. I turned and through the door labeled boys, I saw the restroom fall in on itself and down into nothing. Coach Tompkins started running. Oh, God! He slipped and fell into the growing hole. He sounded like an animal as he screamed. I ran to the back door of the school, past my car, down the street. I was deaf from my heartbeat, and I ripped my mask and goggles off and tried to catch my breath on my hands and knees on the street. I turned and saw the entrance of the school fall in along with the middle part of it.

My car was fine. I passed out as I heard sirens and car alarms. In the emergency room, I watched on the local news how the rare earthquakes exposed to sinkhole under the school building, where they suspected the sinkhole had been forming for years. They also mourn the loss of their baseball coach and STEM teacher, coach Tompkins. Percy was dead now, but they didn't mention him. Clawed too deep into his nose and reached his brain. The nurse came in and asked how I was doing.

frowned and shrugged. I'm fine. Oh, don't frown, mister. My daddy always used to call me poor old Lazarus when I would pout. What? Why? Well, he was Orthodox, you see.

Christian, not Jew. He said that after the good Lord brought his Lazarus back from Hades, he never smiled again because of all the souls he saw that weren't saved. What? I'd be like,

I'd be like, hey, could you get the fuck out of my room, you creepy bitch? Holy hell. That's cool. Can you never come back into this room again? Thank you. 76 year old woman.

I can imagine it's like a very, very old woman. Like, cool. I never heard of that, but I didn't say so. Then I asked her. Why are you wearing that face mask?

Ever since that sinkhole form, the towns had this weird bad smell going around. It's not too bad right now, though. Yet. That's the end of the story. I really like that story. a fun one. That was a lot of fun.

Yeah, I, uh, I kind of thought that was the same thing. It kind of had like a quirky fucking flies. I had a really, it had like kind of a funny start. I really wanted to see that story like into like a fucking manga or like a comic or something. Like I really that it gave me just all the visuals and stuff. My mind was just transported those black and white images. I just think that's so fun. Mm-hmm.

I think the, uh, I think the final line from the nurse is kind of implying that might have been hell, you know? Yeah. Yeah, I think it's supposed to be hell rising up. Yeah. And the souls down there that were begging for the light and stuff like that. I think that's the idea, which stuff. Yeah, yeah.

And I think that I think that's a cool idea, like all the souls down there and like hell, hell isn't fire and brimstone. It's more rot and decay, you know. And I think it's, at first I was going to say I don't like the idea of kind of explaining it, but it doesn't really explain it. It's just like an old lady saying something to maybe. could apply it. So I think it's fine enough. I thought that was great. I love the idea of

Percy digging into his own face. I love that it's like a cavern under the school and I love that there's these like kind of troglodyte people down there in it or whatever. That was a ton of fun. I really like that. Really that's fun Edo approach to

of just like the fucking earthquake opened something or like a fissure or something that gets released through a natural disaster and it like is the basically the unlocking or awakening of something is pretty fun. I also really like just the little details that added so much to it like going to Percy's trailer and it's full of all the air fresheners and the dead cat.

And then I like him building the homemade hazmat suit to go there in the description of the GoPro and the wire and all that. All these little details that make the world feel very full and thought out and stuff. That was a great story. I enjoyed that a lot. Also like the little stuff. like at the beginning where it's like, oh, the school has a lot of roaches

because it's old. But then near the end, it's like, man, there's a lot of them. Like they've been kind of brewing from the rot that's been into the school a long time. Yeah.

Yeah. All in all, that was awesome. Flesh fries, great job. I really enjoy that. Does Flesh fries have more stories? Also,

too fun, like just disgusting ones. I hope Golden House is also kind of disgusting a little bit too of them. Honestly, that may have been why Harry put them together, knowing Harry. Oh,

sure. I'm not seeing they post on Reddit a lot I'm not seeing another tales from the creeps one but flush rides write more stuff both of the authors we've covered so far write more stuff

do you want to end on the golden house do we have one more story we're going to do today this is from purchase number 9564 um and I'm trying to see they post in a lot of different horror spaces. They've posted to the cryptic compendium

and the midnight archives and stay awake. So they're posting a lot of this stuff across different Redits and one of them is Tales from the Creeps. And it looks like they have a few stories in Tales from the Creeps. They at least have this one and another one called

a complex hollow space. But for this one we're reading is called Golden House and it's tagged as Cosmic Horror Lovecraftian. Which, Hunter, that's that's all your buzzwords. Get it inside me. Let me devour.

Let me cherish. Let me feast. Those are all fine words to say, I guess. That was kind of socially acceptable. So with that, Hunter, are you ready to end today's episode with the Golden House? Oh, I'm ready. Let us begin. I remember years ago when they took everyone's earrings.

All the rings. everything golden. I remember the mold of the mass that had beat out, ugly and asymmetrical. A wide, malformed, serene smile, below two wide, misshapen golden eyes,

the wireframe halo with names lovingly, carefully etched out into each of the 12 rays that blossom from the head like a flower. I remember the frail, browned corpse of the vessel. The old woman who would feed me juice while she cradled me in her skinny, bony arms.

The old crone, even my dad was afraid of. I remember standing in line with the other kids as our parents oohed and awed at us, taking photos as we all held the 15-foot-long wooden prod in our tiny hands, as though presenting it to the camera, the boys trying to lift it higher than the girls. We couldn't have been older than 11 then. Nine years passed so quickly. I can't feel anything but fevered heat as I'm carried outside of the small ceremonial barn into the field, run off from the flood that

buried our homes decades earlier. A few young trees provided momentary staccato shade as we pass under them. My mind faintly recognized that that means it's midday, holy hour. My brother suggests the grip on the stretcher right before I hear past your murmur a quiet order. The procession stops. We've arrived. So our narrator is on the stretcher then, right? I believe so.

he's being carried? I think, yeah. As they sent me down and delicately weave ropes around my shoulders and chest, my brother, little Ollie, catches my stare and quickly looks away. His blonde hair hiding his eyes as he helps pastor take the long,

heavy prod out of its sewn back, carried by the choir kids. I hear the heavy echoing sound of wood as they pull away the heavy wooden circle the bar's entry to the golden house. My girl. The father whispers to me. Fervent tears in his eyes as his lips brush my forehead.

To have God down here waiting for you. Gently shakes my shoulder. You're so lucky, my baby girl. I can't move. Can't feel anything except the heat that is slowly eating under my skin. I stare unabashedly up at the sun. They lowered me down the square brick hole, crowned framed by packed muddy peat and earth.

They gave me a glass of pale lemonade earlier. I knew what was in it when I drank it. I'm staring at the cup, with the condensation running down the scaled glass, watching small, twisting floaters dance in a slow circle near the top as the ice melted in the summer heat. I'm lowered, motionless, down the chimney. My head lulls back, scraping against the ancient brick. I can't turn my head away, so I watched the faces of the men, my old neighbors watching my descent.

One looks away, the other, my old teacher, smiles encouragingly at me. them, I see the sun is split into two smaller orbs. The ropes dig into the old brick at the top, flicking tiny stone fragments and dust my face, tapping lightly on my lips, cheeks. One small fragment falls in my eye and lays there, stuck to my eye, moving with my pupils I try to focus on it. She twitches, but the best I can do is make a low moaning noise in my throat. Ropes dig into me too. I can't feel pain. It makes this much easier. This is an interesting perspective, like a child being offered, you know? Mm-hmm.

Or undergoing some ritual. It's also very beautifully written so far. Yeah. Yeah, very well written. My feet finally touched the bottom of the fireplace, sliding out from under me as I come to a rest at the bottom. The ropes go slack, then drop, slapping my back at the top of my head.

There's a moment in the pale sunlight that I know my father is leaning over the hole up there, taking one last look at the top of his daughter's head. And I hear shuffling, metal scraping, far above me, and I know they're letting the prod down. I can't see it. My forehead now rest heavily against the blackened brick, my upper half still inside the chimney, while my waist and legs rest just out of the fireplace. Despite the rope and all coursing through me, my heartbeat quickens, and I feel a steadily rising, drowning sense of panic taking hold of my limp body as I feel the metal prongs of the prod

aligned with my shoulders, slowly pushing my body down and out of the chimney itself, the rest of the way out to the tall mouth of the fireplace. My eyes adjust, staring into the blackness. The dim, sallow light from the chimney does very little to illuminate the ancient room I'm in. I can just barely make out the filmy surface of a mirror glinting at me in the corner, stained with a decade of dirt and dust, rotted colonial furniture scattered around the room. dried runnels of mud seeping from cracks in the walls. I feel coarse wooden floorboards under me, damp and decayed, fly bumps against my forehead near

my eye. There's a long silence. I'm unable to lift my head up to gaze up the chimney at the world above, the one with my family and friends in it. I stare at the darkness around me instead. I hear my father say something from far above, but I can't hear it. It's probably meant to be a goodbye. but I couldn't have responded even if I wanted to.

A slow, dirty rumbling sound echoes down the brick hole, and the lid goes back over the mouth of the chimney, sealing me into near complete darkness. I want to cry so badly. Although my chest shakes softly, my tearducks won't respond to me. A fly lights on my nose. And another, I squeeze my eyes shut. I can hear a low roar.

A disjointed buzzing chorus all around me began to start up. The world is drowned out by them. Thousands, millions of flies, buzzing, woken up, careening madly into each other and me, peppering my face, loud beating of insect wings in my ears, sharp and curious, tickling my arms, crawling down my shirt. Keep my mouth closed with some effort, even as the little insects try to push past my lips and the lump thorns in my throat. I'm sweating.

The flies can't get enough. My tongue feels swollen. I slowly try to move to regain control over my body. My arms slowly slide and fold across my chest as I breathe hard through my nose. My legs sluggishly curl inward like a dying cockroach, and I lean forward through the cloud of flies, struggling to move. There's a small rubbing texture against my calves and feet. Open my eyes to see that the gnarled wood of the floorboards is slowly, near imperceptibly moving, shifting under me. gnarled bumps and knots turning over like thousands of tiny worms moving under skin.

I stare hazily through the cloud of flies as the wood rides and curls. Even as the boards themselves retain their shape, I breathe heavily through my nose, trying not to hyperventilate. I'm drugged. This is a hallucination, and I witness many more as hours began to pass by. Slowly, like dim yellow sparks, the flies begin to glow, softening, shifting into little, little fireflies that light up the room in their dizzying, spiraling dance. They light on my hands when I reach out to them, tickling, whispering little things.

Little gold-feathered antenna sprout from their heads like moths, probing my fingers, sweeping along them like loving fingers. I breathed quietly, petrified by fear and curiosity. More light on my legs, my shoulders. More still crawl down the front of my shirt and up my legs. little wings beat against my face, I'm covered in them. I do not react with the little individual feathers of their long antennae slip into the pores of my skin. I hold still, obedient, and possibly small sensitive hairs spread inside my sweat glands, filling them with a tickling sensation

before burrowing deeper. The flies, moss, whatever they are, begin to burrow inside the enlarged pores, seeking warmth. It feels like being pinched from the inside. heat blossoms all along my skin. I look down to my arm, and a thrill swells through me when I see the blue veins of my arm turning a muted yellow. Watching a soft, insistent hair-like tendrils begin to push their way through my veins, traveling with my bloodstream, pulsing, replacing my circulation with their own. I feel light-headed, and when I try to move my arms, I can't.

The thin, web-like tendrils coil around my muscles under my skin, filling my veins, capillaries, and tightening. I wonder absentmindedly if they've reached my heart yet. I can hear low, muted, crumbling sounds, not from the room, but from inside me. Little cracks of friction as the tendrils under my skin bind me tighter, tighter. Sensitive skin around my groin reacts to the growing pressure. Thin gold alien veins under my skin snap tight around my muscles,

and I fall over onto my side, my leg jerking slightly, and I groaned. Deep flushes across my face. I blink, but only one eyelid does. I'm trembling very slightly from the cacophony of sensations overwhelming me. My thighs are clenched together as pressure wraps even tighter around me, pressing and pulling all at once. I bite down on my lip and taste warm iron on my tongue. You can't even see the insects anymore, just a pencil-sized holes they've left in me,

devoid of blood. My light-headed grows. I suck in air, but it's not enough. Something presses at the back of my eyes. Abruptly, bowel fills my throat and mouth and I vomit, spattering dark liquid on the rising floor that seems to twitch and dance under it. I gag, shivering as pulsing sensations wreck my body in waves, wringing out everything in my stomach and slowly things start to change.

My hands fly upwards to my face, and it dawns on me that I've regained control over my life. limbs. Every movement sends flashes of pain through my body and I moan, shaky and low as I slowly crawl forwards out of the long dead fireplace. I catch a glimpse of my hands, dotted with holes, and want to scream but I can't, my throat clicking uselessly. I turned my head away from the stained mirror, unwilling to look as I crawled to the center of the room.

Something isn't right, and I realize it with a flash of fear. eyes dart over to the window, shattered pains caked in mud, packed in by a wall of fossilized peat. The room was pitch black when they lowered me down here. I shouldn't be able to see. My lips part and I feel a pair of small, insectile legs scrape against the inside of my cheek. I'm in too much pain to care. Slowly, hesitantly, I rise up on my hands and knees, not strong enough to stand.

I see something that wasn't there before. A multicolored door, the sagging wooden wall at the other end of the room. I get closer, catch my breath as I begin to pick out details. A large, colorful mural is painted on it. Locust standing on pale, flesh-colored orbs, antenna raised two golden suns, one balanced on the other. Crudely painted figures in yellow, frozen and danced below the two locust, holding sticks with bells on the end. There's more.

But the entire lower half of the doors rotted away, disintegrated into nothing. And it's through this gaping hole that I can see nothing but darkness and dust motes floating through the air. I should be choking on dust, but I'm not. I can feel an intense, subtle vibration in my body, in my stomach and under my tongue. Slowly crawl up to the hole and through it, passing under the remains of the door. I crawl through the door, rest in the center of the room. I look up and see her. her. Her splendid, gold-draped silk along all six moving arms. Her bare chest, wrinkled with

age and decay, doesn't move at all. Her skin is iridescent, countless hard, reflective ridges running along her forearms and fingers poking out in little sawtooth waves. Her face is obscured by a crude gold mask, one that seems so familiar. The wide, open-mouth smile beaten into a greets me, and I stare up at two wide, dried-out eyes that I'm not even sure see me. I'm frozen by fear and by awe. I feel rather than hear her speak. Vibration runs along the floor into every pore of my being. The feeling of being closer fills my mind.

I obey and crawl up to the four limp, still legs that protrude from under her torn dress huddling there. The feeling of satisfaction fills my head, and I obey. I dare glance up at her. Her head is lowered, staring directly back at me, like it had always been there. My eye searched the mask, I see the large wire halo welded to the back, supporting the golden rays with names etched onto them protruding from behind her head. I breathe, trying to speak, but I'm unable to, meeting a hoarse whisper instead. The dry, wide eyes of God look back down at me through the mask, glitter of something akin to intelligence in them.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her arms move while the urge to remain still floods my head. I obey, drooping my head as she gathers me up, arms and legs curling around me, lifting me up. I feel tired, overcome with a sense of satisfaction. action and contentment. I feel like a kid again. Back home in my father's lap and the hanging chair on our front porch as we watched my brothers play in the street. The memory takes hold, filling my mind with the feeling of the sun on my skin, the hot

smell of pavement and dirt, cold lemonade. I suck gently at straw as I watch my brothers, listening to the distant shouts and laughs, shushing of the trees as it cast a staccato shade over the family car. I want to fall asleep, but watching a movie later tonight and I don't want to miss it. I try to take the straw out of my mouth, but I find that I can't. Frown, puzzled, try again, but the straw stays wedged between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I try to pull at it, but my arms won't move, frozen in place. I begin to panic and the straw grows thicker, lemonade seeping out of it, gushing down my throat,

no longer tasting sweet. I blink and suddenly I'm awake staring into the dead eyes of God. Her face split open as a long, thick, black propiscus pushes the mask upward and slides even deeper into my mouth, pushing against the back of my throat. I try to scream, but I can't. My vocal cords have long been eaten away. Her entire face is burrowed clean through with holes, and I can see flittling legs, antenna, and small insects crawling around inside each.

The probosciscus pushes deeper, intubating me, and I feel something sour and heavy seep out inside my throat. I gag and bite down as hard as I can, but the dark, shiny shell of the insectile tube doesn't budge. It hits me that she must have taken the memory away on purpose. She wants me to be present for this. She holds me still as I thrash in her arms, and as I choke, I swear I can see amusement in her wide, hungry eyes. After what feels like hours, I'm exhausted.

I'm fitted to her, held to her chest as she feeds me, molds me. The probosciscus in my stomach and pledging my throat is not invasive anymore. It is now a necessary part of my anatomy. Norgon I would die without. one of many that coil around and push into the holes dug into my skin. It was painful, excruciatingly so. Not anymore. Her limbs remain locked around my body possessively, and as I stay there, held and gestated

in the dark, come to understand. My mind is no longer just my own. I share it with her now, and I see everything there is to see. I see my town through a million yellow-hued eyes. I see my brothers crying in their rooms. I see pastor talking to some tourists. I know the goings-on of every animal, see the fox stins and the little whispered thoughts of the kits inside them, the urges of every insect crawling underground, hiding on oily scalps.

I can taste every substance on my buried tongue. I focus in on one room, feel a surge of pleasure as I see Father worshiping us bound together the golden house. And I feel now the want, the hunger for all of them. I'm becoming something else. And if I could feel happiness, then I would be the happiest girl in town.

What a great last line. Holy shit. Woo. Man. Man, I was just, I mean, just kind of letting you roll with it. I love these stories when it's, uh,

basically some, somebody encountering some kind of like, you know, love crafting God or something like that. You know, like it reminds me of the, is the story, I talk to gods at the one where like the guy, they have the ritual where they have to sleep with the moth. Is that what that one was?

I think it's, I think the title of that story was something like my, I, we only got married at a certain age or something like that. Yeah. My dad didn't let us talk to girls. That's it. That's what it was. I feel it,

have a kinship to that one. not just because it's a ceremony almost but also just from the perspective of this like child having to go through with some kind of ritual and then I love the kind of bug like quality that this god has and stuff but it's it's fun it says so much and it's so clear in the imagery yet there's still so much like mystery to be had still which is a lot of fun just very beautifully written too. I mean, just like a very well thought out, very well-crafted story. I think, I think what, what the story is to me is like there's a vessel that these bugs possess, you know, and once the vessel becomes too old and too hollowed, it transfers. And I think we're

witnessing a transferring. So the people of the town, or at least like the pastor in the church, think of it as God, but it's really just like a monster beneath the earth that lives in this golden house. That's like, it is both the, it's like the entity itself is the horde of insects, right? That burrow into people and possess them.

And every now and then it needs a new host. So this is a new host being passed off. But the people think of it as God. And it's like divinity being passed on, hence why at the end the girl gets, effectively the power of being like seeing the eyes of every creature and also her father begins

to worship her because now she is God and then when her time is done a new offering will be passed down I really like the idea of having this like ancient entity that people worship and we don't get all the lore it's not like oh well a guy comes into a small community and he sees the people worshipping this and he figures

out it's a monster we just see the effect of someone being used in the ritual, right? And we can kind of build out the pieces from there. And it's so well worded. Midway through, I was almost afraid it was AI by like, just like the language was so well done. But there is the synod structure changes enough and there's enough of the same descriptors used over and over.

I don't think so. Like this is just a good writer who can like, you know, have some clever wording and choices. And I really love a description of how like the bugs dig into them. and then for the rest of the story, you can feel, as she describes it, the bugs moving inside of her. And then at the end, like, what was it first painful

to probiscus passing into her? No longer painful because now she is that creature. She's suckling at the mother one day to become the mother, this, like, human bug hybrid that's filled with bugs, almost like a termite queen of sorts in this house. And they call it the golden house and the mask is made of gold.

There's this part of the beginning where they collect all the earrings. They collect everything golden to kind of build shrines for this thing. And it could just be a creature that requires to be fed and they keep feeding it. But they think of it as a God because it's something beyond their understanding. That's really cool. You know, it's really cool that there's so many fucking talented writers in the subreddit, man. So many of these people are just doing so well. It's the level of quality of what's on the subreddit right now.

It was just really fucking cool to see. So I don't know. It's very cool and inspiring. I don't know. Just a lot of fun. But guys, that's our, that's our episode today.

We appreciate you for hanging out. And thank you so much for taking time to listen to this and hear some of the fans stories as well. It's always fun diving into the tales from the creep subreddit. And if you yourself want to write something, please write it. Let our fans, you know, let the community read it and fucking help you with it or do whatever.

Don't be afraid to just jump in and actually write something. You know, that's kind of the moral of the story of today's episode is, uh, these are all levels and these are all people that are just wanting to write some stuff and people that like want to read fun stuff too. So thank you guys for wanting to even submit those stories. But until next time, guys,

be sure to check us out on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, all the places we do. And if you want some extra goodies, be sure to go to Patreon. We got some more stories there for you that are exclusive to Patreon. But until next time, guys, we will see you with the next one. Stay creeped.

See you in the next one. creeped. All three authors who read today were fantastic. Please go follow them. We'll have them linked below. And most importantly, you know, all these stories are great. I've really enjoyed them. But I feel like this is a golden opportunity to kill Hunter in a story.

And I haven't seen that yet. So we need to get those numbers up. Just saying. Thanks all you guys for being so cool and for building this community. And please keep writing. Thank you for it. And once again, kill Hunter. Bye.