CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "After my date I woke up in a bathtub full of ice" Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 23, 2020

My blind date kidnapped me. Things haven't been the same since.CREEPYPASTA STORY►by ChristianWallis: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Light LimnerFOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

I'm just to Amsterdam, for the maids'er. Do you're nearer. Doy. Toadam? With Eurocity direct, though? 16 times per day from out Brussels and in 2 hour. Now, from 19 euros in place of 25. Book you tickets on NMBS International.com.

The festival season is aang broken, and that betet meant modder. And so, came Kim to Amazon.com.com. On look to a waterdict tent, a comfortable luget. Oh, so, knus. And Lupeartprint regalards. Now, Kim has Kim has kind of the modder just like him just over the modder man, oh, wait just even,

have he now only mudder on? Oh yeah, only mudder. DROG blithe? Goar for. Find what you need to have on amazon.com.com. She was charming and confident throughout the whole meal, regularly reaching across to touch my arm while making consistent, engaging eye contact.

She laughed openly and sincerely, rolled her eyes when I was self-deprecating and spoke openly about her own vulnerabilities. Over the course of dinner, I started to feel more and less anxious, and without fully understanding why. I noticed a strange warmth in my chest and stomach that I had never felt before. She had brown eyes and chocolate-covered hair that fell around her bare shoulders in harmonious locks. She looked like a woman straight out of a noir film, and she exuded a self-of-notes that was not only attractive, but to many men would have been downright intimidating. And yet, by the end of the date, when she held my hand, I did not find myself filled with doubts

about why she wanted me, or what she saw in me. I trusted her affections in a way I never could with any other woman. Her charisma was infectious, and when we stepped out into the cold city air, I truly, genuinely, like I stepped a fairy tale. that was the last thing before waking up

a bathtub full of ice. The shock was so sudden there was a moment where I felt I'd been plunged into a lucid nightmare. For the first few seconds I thought of nothing

saved the agony vaguely located along my left side and the stinging ice burns across my bare body. Everything hurt. It felt like I'd been in a car crash.

My vision was blurry, as if my eyelids were gummed together. Each blink felt like rubbing sand into my eyes, and every breath out felt like approaching suffocation. My limbs were weak, but I pushed myself out of the ice and into a sitting position, letting out short, sharp, shocked, exhalations as ice-cups fell down my bare stomach and shoulders. I was covered in a sickly condensation,

and, around my hands over my body, shocked to find that I could barely anything. Desperate to escape, I started to heave myself over the edge of the bath. But, without feeling in my legs, I couldn't just step out. It was like climbing a ten-foot fence. About halfway across, gravity took over, and I slipped over the edge and fell like a piece of meat.

Hitting the concrete with a wet thud, my chin struck hard and drove my bottom teeth upwards into my lip as they cut straight through to the other side. I cried out in pain and anger there, dribbling, under the dusty floor until my legs began to warm up and my eyes began to clear. I was in a warehouse, barely able to see more than a few feet in any direction, but I finally managed to collect enough thoughts to wonder where the hell I was, and what the hell had happened? I tried to pull myself forward, although I was too numb, but, but the mere movement helped gather more strength, and I found that bit by bit feeling returned to my

legs, fingers and arms, but clarity brought its downsides. There had been a constant dull pressure in my side since I'd first awoken, but as the cold receded, it felt like someone had stuffed hot coal into an open wound. In terrible pain, and leaned back the freezing-cold porcelain of the tub. I twisted carefully until I caught a glimpse of my sides.

The mere sight distressed and enraged me. There was a fat, swollen scar cut across the soft fat on my flank. The ridges as thick as a finger, the skin molten and jagged, the tear pink and bloody,

stitches as wide as shoelaces pierced the skin and bound the walls of the scar tightly together. I got the sense that if I put any real pressure, my finger would push through, and I would feel my inner's squishing around inside. What the hell? I cried. My words slurred and pathetic. What the hell? What the hell? What the hell? What happened? I don't know. I just need you to come get me. James, I don't get it. I haven't heard from you in over. Annie, please. Just come get me. Something happened. I sent you a

just come get me. I've never heard you so. Just come and get me. I screamed and then hung up. I was shaking, standing in the rain as my stomach churned and my head throbbed. I had limped a mile and a half along a desolate road where I got reception. I had been crying on and off for hours and I genuinely wondered if it would have hurt less to die. The warehouse I had woken up in was abandoned. There were no signs of life, for gory surgical instruments, and a terrifying dentist's chair modified with restraints and straps. Fresh spatters of blood coated the floor, newer stains layered over old burgundy-coloured ones, and a quick look at my wrists confirmed they were bruised and marked from being tied down.

On a nearby table were the clothes I've been wearing from the date, and while my wallet and keys were missing, my phone was neatly placed on top of the folded jeans and jacket. They'd even been laundered, along with my socks and underwear. There were even a pair of walking shoes in my size, but which were not mine, placed carefully besides the clothes. I took them, having little choice and quickly escaped, only to find myself abandoned in the middle of a huge forest with nothing but a dirt road to follow. took hours to get decent phone reception, and then another six before my sister finally found me.

She was winding the window down to ask an endless series of questions when something caught her eye. What? She stammered, and a quick look at my side revealed that my jacket was coated in a pinkish puss that leaked from my side. I went to explain, but found my strength suddenly leached from me. I collapsed on the spot. How does no one This woman, Annie. Annie was pacing In the background of my vision.

I watched her as if she was a TV show where the volume was being slowly turned up. She assaulted my brother. I need to know who the hell she is. How could you not know who this woman is? She was grown angrier by the minute. It had been like this for days, maybe longer. She'd been the one to set me up on the blind date

and it was clear that she felt guilty. She had knelt beside me as I lay on her And promised me All kinds of things If she knew, she would never have arranged the date This woman wasn't a total stranger People vouched for her They worked at the same company for years She'd seen her dozens of times taking the lift

It even all gone out for Kaz's hen party It had transpired early on That the woman who appeared Was not the woman my sister worked with but I was still confused to care. Days had come and gone. I knew I was pumped full of drugs and they were messing with my head.

I had only fleeting memories of a hospital stay but Annie later told me that I was in there for two weeks before being discharged. As time went on, all I wanted was for a sense of normality to return. I wanted to see the world with lucid eyes clean from the fog and confusion

caused by illness and drugs. But, it finally happened, it felt like being hit by a truck. Screw you, you're being unprofessional. Something about a voice woke me up in the moment. It wasn't just a fluttering of my eyes. I surfaced from the confused shadows of semi-consciousness and emerged into my own mind with a thousand questions. I was already pulling myself upright before my sister had time to hang up the phone.

My hands roamed freely, touching and grobing the couch. Then, my chest, and face. I couldn't balance the my head and thoughts, and I'd a few seconds before I finally groaned the words. My cactus, I groaned. Water. My sister had been momentarily frozen from shock, but something about the absurdity of it all caused her to laugh, then cry, then run over and hugged me.

I blinked my eyes clear and tried to speak again. I'm sorry about your sofa. I groaned, picking my hand up from where it had been propping me up. Something had soaked through the fabric and stank of sickly sweet infection, and I realized with disgust that it was coming from me. Don't be silly, she sobbed, I'll get a new one. Gingerly, I sniffed my palm. Can we burn this one?

An hour later, head to toe, shivering from fevering from the first time in weeks. My sister had made me a cup of tea, and as I sipped it, I savoured the feeling of warmth in my belly. Do you remember anything else about her? She asked. No, I said. The police told me they're trying to find her, but... I don't know. What with your history?

I wonder if they'll even look that hard. "'she didn't even take anything,' I said. "'she cut you open, and we still don't know why,' Annie cried with great incredulity. "'We don't know if there are a gang of them, or if she's just some lunatic or what. "'James, this—what happened to you is serious. This, all of this.' She waved her hands in my direction. "'It's very serious.' "'I just want to get back to normal,' I said, pulling the blanket close around me.

She reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. For a moment, I thought she was going to tell me it had all go back to normal any day now. But she closed the mouth without saying another word and I realised it was a promise she couldn't keep. The scar was huge. It was easily eight inches end to end and crossed my left side at a diagonal turn. It was just below my ribs where it bellowed, aching agony into my abdomen.

It was a throbbing, pawing. causing mess of sharp, that hurt, what I did, pinging away at the edges of my like a discordant rhythm. Over time, the broken skin had swollen so much that the thick stitches strained against their respective holes, warping them into distended oval shapes that looked close to tearing.

The stitches, for some reason, were unspeakably sensitive. Not only did it hurt to pull out or pluck them, as you might expect, but even brushing them sent lanked dancing waves, and into my jaws, where the pain settled like a toothache. The gentlest prod was felt by them, and it made little sense to me as to how I could so clearly feel something that was not part of my body. Poking the wound hurt like hell, but I found myself able to give it a more thorough examination

that I had in the previous weeks and, most unusually, I found the surrounding flesh to be hard and ungiving. It felt to me as if something were buried in the wound. almost as if I was feeling a piece of wood and, and, desperate to know more, and I pushed harder and my finger between the folds of skin

and sank a quarter inch into the cut. It hurt less than I imagined it would and I could feel something strange embedded in the flesh. It had in a regular surface like a stick but it was hard like a rock. It was jagged, starting wide at the base

and tapering into a serrated edge, buried in the other side of the flesh. Carefully, I ran my finger sideways along the cut, and found smaller pieces of hardened material lined up in rows. Tracing their outline made a zigzag shape that followed the cut like a zipper on a jacket. And, when I finally managed to get a small glimpse at what it was beneath the skin, I saw something, the coloured of nicotine-stained fingers. My skin crawled with disgust. The violation was rank.

I couldn't contain myself, and I became overcome with a kind of panic, a strong repulsion towards my own skin. Something's in there, I thought, and I have to get it out. I became desperate and tried to leverage it open with both hands, pushing fingers from both hands in deeper and deeper, even as the pain overcame me. Over-eager, my hand slipped, and my finger caught a sharp edge along the way. Damn it, I cried, It barely hurt, but something It hurt, I hadn't eaten Lurching, as if I was in a roller coaster

Going over an enormous drop It grew from a mild sensation To an overwhelming nausea in less than a second And the pain became a kind of dynamic sensation I couldn't possibly hope to describe Stumbling over I had to prop myself against the mirror where I managed to get one last look at my side.

What I saw struck me as some kind of mad hallucination. The scar was moving. The flesh of either side undulated as a small drop of blood rolled along the edges. Not only did the skin start to curl back, revealing a long row of jagged teeth and inch or two in the length, but the stitches plugged themselves from their nested pockets and writhed in the empty air like the sillier of a jellyfish. Even without my intervention, the wound continued to open, slowly spreading apart to a few inches wide. By the time I registered the gullet leading sideways into my body.

I passed out. Got your appetite back? Annie proclaimed happily as she stepped through the door. I looked guiltily at the six or seven plates piled up on the kitchen table, filled with bones and scraps of inedible waste. When you called me up asking for food, I didn't realize you're going to clear out the whole damn sorry, I'm meed. Don't be, she smiled. You lost so much weight I didn't even recognize you.

It's good that you're eating again. Without thinking, one of my hands strayed down to my left side. I ran it over my t-shirt and pelt something unusual beneath the fabric, something that was neither part of my body nor the wound. When my sister turned away, I pulled to her. away, I pulled up the t-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-hirt and saw a half-eaten fry stuck between the teeth. Almost as if in reaction to the light and sound, the scar's lips started to churn away, trying to dislodge the piece of potato.

Gingerly, I snapped the chip away from between the jaws and went to throw it away, but was stopped without realizing why. My sister turned, and I dropped my shirt as quickly as I could. She looked at me for a moment, puzzling over my sitting there with a half-frying one hand. and a look of unrelenting terror on the other. You don't have to be ashamed you've been lying there eating like a pig, she laughed. I tried to ask her to take the piece of food away from me, but I couldn't make the words leave my mouth. I stared at it and felt a growing pang of hunger ringing outward from my chest, as if my belly was an

enormous, empty brass bell being struck from within. My mouth was filling with saliva so quickly, it was like a continuous flow of milkshake. And in, through the chip in my mouth, swallowed it whole like a dry pill. My sister burst out into laughter. Just like when we were kids fighting over food, eh? She chuckled, like that time we found a snickers under the sofa. Mm-hmm, I agreed. My lips pressed tightly shut. She turned and began packing away the shopping. Subconsciously, my hand returned to my side, and I felt something unusual more. Pulling the I stared down, half a fry,

and, like the first peal of thunder, before a terrible storm, my stomach lets out a nauseating growl of hunger. Can you pick up some more meat? I said. Yeah, sure, she chirped over the phone. The doctor said you might have an iron deficiency. God knows how much blood you lost when those wackos.

Well, Anything, anything, I'll get, okay? Thank you, I said. I'm going to lie down now. Okay, I'll see you when I get back tonight. I hung up the phone and opened the door to the fridge. All around me lay open packets of steak I'd stuffed hungrily into my face all throughout the morning.

Without thinking, I itch my nose and my fingertips came away bloody. When I checked a mirror, I looked like a Halloween decoration. My mouth and nose covered in fresh blood. I peeled my lips back and stared at my teeth, repulsed by the brown clotted plaque that stained my gums. With the regularity of clockwork, my side began to wake, and I pull my t-shirt up in time to see the wound's lips writhing and moving like a mouth of a toothless old man sucking

on hard candy. A second later, it spat out the first bone, and then another, and then another. Over the course of 15 minutes, it carefully spat out hundreds of bones. from a whole, uncooked chicken I'd eaten just before calling my sister. By the time the wound was done expelling bones, I felt myself close to collapsing, but I pull myself back to the kitchen where I grabbed my phone and called Annie once more. Hey, I said, breathlessly. Can you only get boneless stuff?

Of course, she said. What about chips or anything like that? a bread, I could cook up some burgers easy using the grill. The thought of bread made me pass out on the spot. No, I replied. Maybe it's the gluten or something. I don't know, but please, no bread,

no fruit, no veg. Okay, she said. And for the first time, I detected a curious tone in a voice. Something approaching concern. Only meat. Again. I awoke to a bit like a violin.

I was lying down when it came from a nearby window, I looked up to see a silver cat staring at me with indignity. My sister had told me about the neighbour's cat. She warmly suggested that if it visited, I let it in and feed it, much like she does when she's feeling down. With bigger problems in my mind, I first tried to ignore it, but it was patient and wouldn't let up. Perhaps it was the sight of all the meat and bones,

that lay half-eaten across the cat, but the cat was determined to get in. All right, I grumbled, standing up as the cat began to loudly pour at the glass. All right, all right, I'm coming. As soon as the window raised, the cat burst into the room like lightning before quickly settling down on one of the countertops where it purred and started chewing on some bones. I shuffled back to the sofa and sat down, and lay down, and then, without, quite remembering when I fell asleep. It felt like barely a few minutes had passed when I later awoke, finding the cat nearby, purring and mewing at my face. Confused, I sat up, and it jumped gracefully

between the coffee table and the sofa, landing silently to my left. For a brief moment, I scratched this head and enjoyed its company, right up until it nuzzled against my side. I'm still not sure what happened in what order. Everything came so quickly and those first few seconds blinded me with pain. I could barely think or see. It felt like my entire nervous system was being pumped full of electricity. I briefly registered a tearing wet sound and when I looked I saw my t-shirt was sopping wet with blood.

The cat was wailing and everything was a confused spatter of blood, fur and the mustard-y-y-y-y-quately. Quickly, the initial burst of my t-yed down. The cat's cries became less manic and more pathetic, turning into long, drawn-out cries of the slowly dying. I soon realized that something had torn a hole in my clothes, and the cat was half buried within it. Its front paws still feebly scratching at my soft skin. Meanwhile, the back legs twitched and jerked, and I became uncomfortably aware of the crunching sound. Somehow, I could feel the mouth, the spasms. felt very much like a part of me, but distant, like when you get an injection at the dentist and you spent hours afterwards running your tongue along your cheek.

Quietly, trying to hold back tears, I got up and walked to the bathroom where I could use a full-length mirror. I had to thread the remainder of the cat's body through the gaping hole in my shirt before I could pull it up. when I did, I saw that strange mouth, jutting out of my side, jutting like a rising hill. Caught between the powerful lips and the bony teeth was half a cat, and slowly the mouth warmed and chewed away at the now dead animal. It reminded me of someone slurping up spaghetti and stopping to chew on a mouthful.

I could feel it. I could feel its death rose inside me. The urge to vomit, and I ran over to reach. Something was wrong. I wasn't being sick out of disgust. Something else was happening. I started to gag, and my heaving was painfully violent. As I crouched, hanging over the toilet, with heavy rivulets of spit dripping into the bowl,

I started to feel something hard and strange rise up out of my throat. It took nearly half-hour of suffocation. I screwed shut as I tried to be somewhere else to endure the pain, before something plopped out of my mouth and clinked against the porcelain. I wiped away the tears in my eyes and fished it out. It was the cat's collar. You haven't seen her at all? No, I said, as she forced a bag of chicken nuggets into an overstuffed freezer drawer.

Now, are you sure you don't want him to cook any of these up? She asked, turning to look, over a shoulder at me. I'm not hungry, I answered. And for once, I genuinely wasn't. It's just apparently, Ella said she let her out last night, and she almost always comes straight down here. She's a little silver thing with a small red tag on a collar that's shaped like a wax seal.

Are you sure you haven't seen her? I guiltily thumbed at the exact same name tag in my pocket. Nope, I said. Why would I lie? Annie didn't respond. She just kept packing away food. Have you been cleaning in there? She asked suddenly. It smells of bleach. No, I shook my head. Haven't done anything of the sort. I laid down and pretended to sleep, desperately hoping she wouldn't ask any more questions. It was a small black eye of a mollusk, a pearly obsidian orb embedded just above my

lower rib. All around the edges was a line of faint hairs that left me breathless when I touched them. There were no lids to blink, but the hair moved eerily in the air, almost as if floating in the slow current of a river. When I tapped it with a pen, the ice sank back into the skin and disappeared, only to return like a soap bubble several seconds later. Below it, the mouth continued to writhe and grunt away. The bone protrusions of its jaws have since grown to jut out of my profile by a good four or five inches. I prided the mouth, but it did nothing. I could feel the pen, I could feel the hard plastic against skin that I swore wasn't mine

anymore. It felt like a part of me, so I put the pen down and poked it with my hand, snatching my finger away in anticipation of a lethal snap. But nothing happened. It continued chewing the air absent-mindedly. To get a better look at the discoloration, I turned back to the mirror and lifted my arm above my head, noting how the pink and yellow skin of the mouth strained against the bony underlying carapace. As I watched, another small black orb floated to the surface of my skin, then another. I raised my arm higher and several more popped up audibly amongst the soft knock of my armpit.

It bubbled out so quickly, I wasn't quite sure, but, but once the growth subsided, I was left with a fifth-sized lump of black featureless orbs buried in my armpit like a blackberry. Around the central mass, new hairs grew, as did a bony crater with similar ridges to the mouth below. Gently, I tried to lower my arm, but past a certain point, the orbs became too sensitive. I tried a few times, going as far as to try and down. But, before my elbow was in line with my jaw, the pain became unbearable, shooting across my collarbone and straight down into my stomach, where it settled like a punch to the gut. Behind the locked bathroom door, I could hear my sister entered the apartment. I had no idea how this was going to work, but, thinking quickly, I grabbed a large towel and stuffed it under my arm. When I looked like I was trying to haul a log, and my sister wordlessly turned ahead in confusion. Are you okay? Yeah, I answered a bit too quickly.

How's? She gestured to her side. Fine, I replied, breaking eye contact to walk over to the sofa. I'm just not feeling well. You don't look like you have much of a fever. Is it healing okay? It's not infected again, is it? She stepped forward and for some reason I found the sight of her

totally terrifying. I was filled with a peculiar, almost primal desire to flee somewhere dark. For some bizarre reason I saw the sun being eclipsed by a large object swimming towards me. In a split second the image flashed in and out of my mind and left me dazed, leaving plenty of time for Annie to reach out and lift my shirt up. Before she got any further, I lashed out, her arm away. Jesus Christ, what's the matter with you? She cried, more upset than angry. The tone in her voice caught me off guard, and when she reached out once more, even faster this time, I was too slow. Before I could

react, the womb did. My body lunged out to meet her, pulled as if by invisible strings. Bone cracked. She gave a short, sharp, followed by another, followed by a a music in pitch like a violin concerto. She never stopped. She just kept screaming at the sight of what remained of her hand. I looked down at my side and saw the t-shirt torn apart and the fat, bony mouth chewing clumsily at three fingers and a chunk of palm.

Someone was saying no over and over, and I realized it was the sound of my own voice filled with regret and horror. I reached out, I don't even know, I was going to do, stem of blood maybe, but her screaming intensified and she fell over trying to get away. I was crying now, salty tears streaming down my cheeks, and stepped forward in another vain attempt to help. She cried out and savagely battered away my hand, scrambling backwards in a desperate crab walk until her back thudded, get away, get away, get away, get away. The words broke

and I felt a knot in my throat. I tried to take a step backwards to walk away and go God knows where. But, something stopped me. The pain in my side flared up. It felt like something was ranging sideways against my rib cage.

No, I mewed and felt it lunge once more. This time, it pulled me, a few feet, who was screaming, non-feverous, non-stop pitch. No, no, no, please, no! I cried, and this time it pulled me so hard it didn't stop.

I failed across the room, trying desperately to gain purchase on anything around me, dragging plastic bags full of food to the floor as I was yanked closer and closer to my sister. That thing was grumbling so loudly it filled the room, growling with an inane, I couldn't look.

Not even, it latched onto her head, with a soft crunch. She kept screaming, kept crying into the darkness that ate a face, stripping away the soft skin, the muscle, the cartilage, and then finally the bone.

Something hideous had punched out of the thing's mouth. I couldn't see it, I could feel it, and knew instinctively it was a propiscese. It writhed through a skull, grinding and boring through anything in its way, popping eyes and draining the fluid before gouging deeper and deeper towards a brain. It drained it in minute, and when a screaming finally died down, the only sound in the apartment was the breathy gurgling of a spine, being slurped up by the tuberous growth. Satisfied, the mouth let go and belched, then nestled back into my side with the affronts.

affectionate wiggle of a sleeping cat. I knew what I was going to see when I faced my sister, and my fear was soon confirmed. There was nothing but a skull, surrounded by a ragged hood of skin and hair. Even in the silence, I could still hear her scream.