CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - Something in my body is trying to escape

Episode Date: June 22, 2024

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by bohemiancouchpotato:   / something_in_my_body_is_trying_to_escape  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►SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"-    • "I wasn't careful enough on the deep ...  ►"Personal Favourites"-    • "I sold my soul for a used dishwasher...  ►"Written by me"-    • "I've been Blind my Whole Life" Creep...  ►"Long Stories"-    • Long Stories  FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter:   / creeps_mcpasta  ►Instagram:   / creepsmcpasta  ►Twitch:   / creepsmcpasta  ►Facebook:   / creepsmcpasta  CREEPYPASTA 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

Have you ever experienced something that shock you to your very core? Something that makes you remember every single little detail of your surroundings from that moment and time, even years after? I can remember so vividly the moment I realized something was wrong with me. I was in my junior year of high school, sitting in class, just like any other day. I remember the smell of erasers, cheap cologne that permeated off my classmate who sat next to me. I remember the scratchy tag of my t-shirt and how I was resisting taking it off in the middle

of class just to cut it off. I remember what my teacher, Mrs. Brown, was talking about, the fall of Constantinople. My mouth felt dry and I kept looking at the clock, counting down the minutes until I had lunch so I could get a soda. The sound of a pen clicking behind me was synchronized with the song that was stuck in my head. All those things were going through my brain at once. My ADHD mind went a million miles per hour when it all came down to a crashing halt when I felt it at 1123.

I felt what I can only describe as a hand grabbing at the inner lining of my stomach. It didn't necessarily hurt, not at this point. That's not why I got so scared. You see, not only do I have ADHD, I also have OCD that manifests itself in the fear of anything growing or moving inside me. Even if I think about the concept of blood moving in my body or a heart that is beating in my chest, I have to think of something else. I've had full-blown panic attacks because of it.

The closest term for this is topophobia. That's technically the fear of pregnancy. I'm a guy, so it's not completely accurate, but it's really the closest term. I mean, I also have a huge fear of pregnancy. Not necessarily of me being pregnant, but even though I knew I could never get pregnant, the thought of it made me feel sick. I bet you can imagine the terror that overcame me as I felt something moving inside me. I made an audible groan and grabbed my stomach.

The whole class turned to look at me. Even my teacher stopped talking to ask if I was okay. I stood up and started to run to the nurse's office without even acknowledging my teacher. My first thought wasn't thinking that something was actually in my body. Even stomach aches and the feeling of gurgling in my stomach made me feel this way before. I didn't have anything on hand to help with the stomach ache unfortunately. However, the nurse always did. I sprinted across the school, hoping and praying that my stomach wouldn't make that awful feeling again before I got there.

I turned the corner into the nurse's office with my tennis shoes squeaking in the process. I saw the school nurse, Mrs. Kennedy, sitting on the couch in her office, reading a magazine. She looked up at me with a sweet smile that quickly turned to worry. Sam, what is it? How can I help? She said as she stood up and hurried over to me, putting a hand over mine with just grabbing my stomach tightly. It's my stomach. Something is wrong with my stomach. I mumbled with a red face. She shuffled a way over to a large medicine cabinet

and she motioned for me to sit down. She asked me questions about my stomach, asking if it was pain, grumbling, cramps, nausea, etc. As she was asking me what my symptoms were and digging through bottles, the feeling happened again. However, this time it was different. It felt like,

fingers grazing against the inside of my body. I screamed and wrapped my arms around my torso. Mrs. Kennedy ran over to me to comfort me. This seems a lot worse than normal. Maybe we should call your parents, she said as she put her hand on my back. It felt like some days I saw Mrs. Kennedy more than my teachers. Any small element would distract me so badly from class that I had to go see her, sometimes multiple times a day. She knew at this point when something was really wrong. Within about 30 minutes, both my parents were there with us. That may seem fast, but I'm an only child and my parents are very aware of my tendencies. They know I can spiral and like to be around if it happens. They kept asking me where the pain was. I think they had to

assumed by the way I wasn't responding to their questions, the pain must have been really bad. The reality was that I just didn't know how to tell them what was going on. I got so frustrated after they asked me over and over again that I just yelled at them. Something is inside me. Get it out. Get it out! I lifted my shirt and was ripping at my stomach, leaving red nail scratches and cuts. My mom and dad ran to either side of me to grab my arms. Mrs. Kennedy had seen me go pretty crazy, but this was the worst I've ever gotten in front of her. My parents, however, had seen a similar situation before.

Not exactly like this, but they didn't skip a beat on trying to help me. Sam, breathe, sweetie. Just remember everything is in you for a reason. It's keeping you alive. Nothing is going to hurt you. My mom said softly to me, trying to calm me down with the words my therapist gave her. Ice cubes, get him ice cubes, she said to Mrs. Kennedy as I started to hyperventilate. Mrs. Kennedy grabbed a Ziplog bag and started to fill it with ice cubes.

My mom went over to her and grabbed her an ice scoop right out of the bag, opened up my hand and put the ice cube in it. This worked in the past to distract me. I knew that's what she was doing and trust me I wanted it to work too but this was different I kept trying to tell myself

that it was just a different feeling I hadn't felt before that it wasn't possible something was physically inside my body but I couldn't help it everyone in the room could see that this was getting intense

I think they assumed it was just a mental breakdown and that nothing was physically wrong with my body but I didn't care. I just wanted help. My parents got me into the car with my mom, even sitting in the back seat with me. She kept trying to distract me with conversation, but my mind was only on that awful feeling in my stomach. We pulled up to the ER and my mom guided me in while holding both my wrists. It felt like she was walking me on a leash, but I didn't fight it. I knew she was just trying to stop me from scratching my stomach.

We walked in and I spoke to the receptionist. All I said was that I had a terrible pain in my stomach. I didn't want to sound too crazy. I just needed a doctor to look at whatever was going on. After giving the receptionist my name and insurance information, we went to sit down. I was sitting in between my parents, and I could see my mom leaned back to try and mouth something to my dad without me seeing. I didn't think much of it. I was way more worried about other things.

My dad then went up to the receptionist. He pointed over to me, and she looked a little concerned. I saw her pick up the clipboard that had my information on it, and she started writing something else on it. I asked my dad what he did, and he just said not to worry, and that he wanted to let know it was urgent. No more than ten minutes went by, and I felt a terrible moving sensation. I cringed and grabbed my stomach, immediately followed by not just the feeling of a hand grabbing my insides, but also scratching and pinching.

I yelled out in pain as the other people in the waiting room looked. looked at me mortified. A doctor and a couple of nurses came running over to me and helped me up, but I couldn't stand up. I was in too much pain. They put me in a wheelchair and started to head for a room. However, they didn't take me through the normal big ER doors that went to the standard examination rooms.

They took my parents and I through a smaller door to the side that had a padlock on it. We walked through a white hallway that was very quiet. The doctor and nurses showed us to my room and helped me into my bed as I was wriggling and wincing. I had one parent at either side of me, patiently waiting to stop my arms from scratching. The doctor was trying to ask further questions, but he could tell it wasn't going anywhere. I knew that my dad probably told that receptionist about my OCD tendencies that I needed to go to the psych ward,

not just to the standard side of the ER. I couldn't take it anymore and blurted out that something was inside my stomach and that it was trying to get out. The doctor just looked at my parents for a reaction and they gave him a sad nod. It was like they warned him that this could happen. The doctor didn't just think I was crazy.

My parents did too. The doctor took a deep breath and came up to me. I knew I was about to hear some kind of dumb speech about how this was just my OCD and everything was going to be okay. As he came closer to me, I pulled in my shirt. And he gasped. Not only was my stomach scratched up like crazy. But we saw movement. It looked like when a pregnant woman can see her baby kicking.

but this was much stronger. It was stretching my skin. My parents stood up and gasped while the doctor looked frantic and unprepared. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, the doctor said as he backed out of the room. Hang on, we're getting this taken care of, just hang tight. Just seconds later, a nurse came in to give me some painkillers.

I started to feel the pain slip away, but something so much worse started to creep in. I heard her voice, not my own, not some creepy-sounding creature, but the voice of a normal-sounding man that I'd never heard before. But that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was what he was saying to me. Get me out, get me out, get me out, get me out. It started in a normal tone, but slowly became more urgent and rushed.

then demanding. The voice would coincide with a movement inside me. He was getting so loud that I was having a hard time hearing the people around me. The doctor came in just a few minutes after I last saw him. It was red and sweaty like he'd just run a marathon. He told me they needed to do just a few tests on what was inside me before taking action. I was trying so hard to pay attention to the words coming. out of his mouth, but all I could hear was the voice.

The voice stopped for just a second and changed what he was saying. Now he was repeating, cut me out, cut me out, cut me out, cut me out now. I now knew this thing didn't just want out, but it wanted out now. I begged the doctor to just get it out now, but he wouldn't listen. The voice spoke up again. This is taking too long. Don't be afraid. Get me out yourself.

I think it could feel me resisting him. Without realizing it, I was looking around the room for something. It was like I didn't have control over my head or eyes anymore. I knew the voice was looking for a knife, but I was trying to ignore the feeling. I knew there weren't any knives around. I was in a very safe place. Just as I had the feeling I was safe, it was immediately taken away.

The thought passed through my head that my dad probably had a pocket knife on him. My heart sank. I knew this thing could hear my thoughts. I knew what it would try to do. The next thing I knew, I was on my feet leaping for my dad. My body hit his. Luckily, it's in pretty good shape for his age

and had no problem putting me in my place. He got on top of me and pinned me to the ground. All the while, I could barely hear my mom in the background, yelling at my dad to be careful. My dad knew something was going on, and that I just needed to be on the ground until I calmed down. My body tried to flail, but it wasn't successful. The whole time, the voice in my head, now yelling and screaming. Not saying any distinguishable words, but just having what felt like a little bit of a little bit of a tantrum. What made my dad the most uncomfortable was the kicking feeling coming from my stomach.

After a couple of minutes, the voice calmed down and I felt in charge of my body again. My dad slowly got up and attempted to help me up. At this point with an audience of hospital staff that looked like they were getting ready to take me somewhere for more tests. Just as I stood up, I felt the voice take over, and I lost all sense of my own body. I felt like a shell of myself. My dad gave me a soft, yet worried smile, and in that instance, I grabbed him and reached into his pocket. My heart sank as I felt his pocket knife. The room started to panic, and about five people tried to grab it from me.

The last thing I remember is plunging the knife into my stomach. I felt a blinding pain and everything went black. Several hours later I started to wake up. Everything was extremely blurry and fuzzy. I could hear a faint voice telling me to relax. As the minutes passed by, things started to get a little bit clearer. I looked around and saw I was in a large room with a few other patients. A nurse was going up to all the beds and checking in on them.

I tried to sit up a bit to get more comfortable. I moved my hospital gown out of the way and saw a huge scar, about six inches across. Most of the scar looked very surgical, like what I'd imagine a C-section surgery would look like. except where I remember the knife going in. It looked like a bunch of extra stitches had to be added where it went in. It also looked pretty bruised. I can imagine that a dull 10-year-old knife that was harshly shoved into a body really wouldn't clean cut through and leave some damage.

The feeling of shock from looking at my stomach was quickly gone when I realized that meant whatever was in me, was now gone. I didn't hear the voice. I didn't feel a hand in my gut anymore. I didn't see that vile kicking anymore. I felt like I could breathe. I asked the nurse what they found.

And she looked flush. Uh, that's something that you, uh... Your doctor will talk to you once you eat something and can speak clearly. She said, and she scurried off, looking upset. Shortly after that, I was wheeled into a recovery room and my parents came to see me. As they walked in, they had a very similar look on their faces as the nurse did. They looked pale and didn't want to look me in the eyes. I kept asking them questions about what was going on.

The ace of the doctor needed to discuss it with me and he wanted to make sure I wasn't feeling high from the anesthesia while we had the conversation. The doctor didn't come and see me for another ten hours, which felt strange. And to add to the strangeness, my parents were taking shifts hanging out with me. There was only overlap when they switched and the other parent took over while the other one left the room. I would understand if they weren't both with me for the whole time. I'm not that needy. But they were only both in the room together for about a little.

an hour. That was the hour before the doctor came to my room. Finally, the doctor came in to talk to me. When he walked in, the room was cold and quiet. It was evident he didn't feel the same relief I was feeling. He seemed awkward, like it was taking way too long to get over to me. He grabbed a chair and scooted it close to me. Listen, Sam, I know this last 24 hours has been very challenging. I apologize for not explaining what happened during your surgery sooner, but we all needed time to figure it out. And quite frankly, process what happened. We feel we have enough information to let you in on what is going on.

The silence filled the room. It felt like no one was brave enough to break it. And, I asked with confusion. I think it'll be easier if we just show you. The doctor, along with my parents, helped me into a wheelchair, and we started to make a way across the hospital to an entirely different section. I couldn't believe all the things running through my head at what we're about to see. I felt like cruel and unusual punishment to leave me in anticipation and not just tell me what

I was about to see. When I went around the corner, I couldn't process what I was looking at. I thought they were showing me a large tumor or growth of some kind. Why would a tumor be in a big incubation chamber with tubes connected to IVs and machines coming out of it? I got closer, I started to see human features on it. It was mostly just a six-foot lump of flesh, but I could see a hand sticking out of it. It was small, but what made it creepy was it looked like a fully developed man's hand,

just small. I could see a patch of hair coming out of what I assumed was its head. It had no discernible facial features, just a few teeth. scattered in one section. As I looked at it with disgust, coming to terms with this thing that was just in my body. I had a realization. I wasn't feeling sick at the thought of something being in my body. Sure, I was grossed out that this particular thing was just in me, with the thought of bacteria in my body, didn't make me want to throw up. I thought about all the blood pumping through my veins, and I felt normal.

Not only was the voice and kicking gone, but my OCD was gone too. It was just this thing, trying to find its way out for years. As I was staring at the creature, the doctor came and put his hand on my shoulder. We believe this is your twin brother. I immediately looked up on my parents who looked very disturbed and upset. I let the doctor finish talking. We believe that you absorbed him in the womb, and that he's been living inside you your whole life.

This is an extremely rare condition called fetus and fetus. It seems he didn't quite have the best opportunity to develop normally. That's why he looks the way he does. Despite his appearance, He has all the organs he needs to survive. Looks like he's missing a lung and his gallbladder. Also a bit of his liver, but other than that, it looks like he will live for at least a few years.

He won't be able to leave this room due to him needing a feeding tube and a few other things that his body cannot do on its own. He needs a lot of support just to live. What makes this situation extremely unique is that your twin is still alive. despite your body not sustaining him anymore. Even though we have him hugged up to a few IVs and machines, it is unexplainable how he is living outside of your body.

I was in complete shock. I didn't want to believe it. I asked my mom why she never told me I absorbed my twin in the womb, and she said she had no clue. There was never a sign when she was pregnant with me. He also mentioned that sometimes, even in pregnancies, women will go their whole pregnancy without even getting a belly. It's called a cryptic pregnancy.

I've always had a bit of a gut, but never anything big enough to cause suspicion. I guess in my case, I had a fetus fetus v2 and an experience similar to cryptic pregnancy, even though it was in my stomach. At least, that was the doctor's best guess. although it all sounded like BS to me the doctor and my parents kept trying to explain more and more details to me I don't know why they didn't slow down a little bit for my sake how could they not tell I wasn't processing any of this

I noticed something while they were trying to explain things to me they kept calling it he now listen I'm not some kind of asshole who won't respond someone who wants to be called a specific pronoun. I've never been that kind of person. But this is where I draw the line. Not just that, but this thing had a name. My parents named it and said it was its birthday. While they told me all this information, they didn't look happy about it. It seemed like they were forced to do all this nonsense. And now it was my turn to be convinced. I could tell they were trying to force it. The doctor told me, despite it not having a

high probability for a long life, that we should still try and give it all the love it deserves. Of course, the doctor referred to it as a he, but I refused to. This thing disgusted me. This thing tried to kill me and ruin my quality of life for so long, and now we're going to treat it like it's some kind of prince? No, absolutely not. Luckily, it seemed like it would never leave the hospital, but my parents planned on going to visit it daily.

Visiting it? Are you kidding me? It has no eyes, no ears. It's probably miserable and has no concept of people even being around it. I'm refusing to ever see this thing again or acknowledge its existence. I could get in trouble for even talking about this. The hospital, or anyone involved, has signed NDAs to not share any information about this

until it officially dies. This is because it's a medical anomaly and the first of its kind. They want to do the proper research and how this all occurred before coming out with a statement. I just have to get this all off my chest. I feel like I'm the crazy one here when I know I'm not. I don't care if I get in trouble. I'm scared that the doctors are trying to force my parents into giving this thing a proper life. I think that's why it took them so long to tell me.

I think they scared my parents into keeping it alive and guilting them or even forcing them into being its parent. I'm all for every life being important and all that stuff. But I have a feeling my parents are terrified of this thing, just like I am. am. I'm convinced they gaslit my parents into believing this thing is my brother. If there wasn't any sign of him while my mom was pregnant with me, could this thing be something else? This all happened about two years ago. It's still alive and they're still researching it. My parents continue to visit it despite everything. My therapist told me that I'm probably just struggling with jealousy now that I'm not

an only child anymore and so much of my parents' attention is on him now. But it's so much bigger than just jealousy. Since this thing showed up and my OCD is pretty much gone, I've hardly seen my parents.

I know I'm not just jealous. There is something more to this. I know it. Something just feels off about this whole thing. What is this thing? Where did it come from? And what does it want?