Creepy - A Man In A Costume Is Pretending To Be My Mom's Dog

Episode Date: August 5, 2021

Bad dog...***Written by ShaneStarr93 and narrated by Nate Dufort***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is the bloody disgusting podcast network. No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastors and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories make... graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy presents. A man in a costume is pretending to be my mom's dog. Written by Shane Sarr 93 and narrated by Nate DuFort. I haven't heard from my mom in about three days. That was around the time her Beagle Buster died and she was really depressed, so I decided to give her some space to cope. So when she called me out of the blue yesterday, sounding all bright and chipper, that was when I knew something had happened.

We live in a small town in Iowa, a couple kilometers north of Spirit Lake. There isn't much to do to pass the time, and since my dad died and I moved out for college, mom relied heavily on Buster for company. I finished up my last semester and went back home, ready to fit back into life, at least until it was time to go job hunting. And that's when she told me the news about Buster. I tried my best to console her and even promised to get her a new dog, but she wouldn't hear a word of it.

Buster was a gift for my dad for their 12th anniversary, so to her, Buster was the last thing that made sense to her. And losing him meant losing my dad all over again. I spent a few nights at her house to try and cheer her up before getting back to my apartment about ten minutes away until I got her phone call. The sun hadn't even risen properly above the horizon when I heard my phone rattling on the nightstand.

Mikey, you need to get over here right now. You wouldn't believe who came to visit me last night. I had just woken up from a deep sleep and her loud, energetic tone was a little overwhelming for me. Ah, I don't... Buster! He must have come in through the doggie door, although I don't know how, because he's so big now. I paused for a minute, trying to make sense what I was hearing. I looked at the phone screen to make sure it was my mom and glanced at the time to see it was just 505 a.m. Are you sure it isn't another beagle? It could be someone else's dog. Of course it's him. I know my Buster anywhere. Come over and say hi.

I wanted to ask more, but between my sleepy haze and obvious confusion, all I managed was, uh, okay. I looked at my phone screen again, unsure if what just happened was a really vivid dream or if my mom had fallen into some psychotic episode. I put on a sweater and slipped on my jeans and sneakers before leaving for her house. All the while over, I was genuinely worried about her mental health, and I bled. blame myself. Dad died around the same time I started school out of state and he was barely in the ground when I up and left mom on her own. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed that

I was the one to blame for all this. And to make matters worse, I still didn't have a job. As I bent the corner I half expected to see Buster running around our front lawn as I'd seen him before so many times walking home from high school. But there was no dog. probably inside. I walked up the cobblestone walkway and heard mom making her ridiculous baby talk that I'd often hear when Buster was still alive. As I walked in through the front door, nothing could prepare me for what I saw. As my eyes focused the room, I saw Mom sitting on the couch, as I'd seen her a hundred million times before, with a black mass curled at her feet.

As my eyes adjusted to the light of the house, I stood frozen. unable to say anything. Doesn't he look great, Mikey? What I saw was a man, six foot eight. Fuck me. He could have been closer to even seven feet tall from where I stood, wearing a matte black dog mask and a full-body jumpsuit. The man was so tall he almost completely covered the white carpet mom

and laid out on the ground. I don't know where he was, but I'm so happy to have my big man back, mom said as she pat the man's stomach. I still couldn't move or say anything. Through the eye holes in the mask, I could see the man studying me intently and a pang of fear struck my chest. He looked as if he was plotting his next move, thinking of what to do. What did I just stumble upon exactly?

I shifted my gaze to my mom and saw that she was in her glee. The only time I saw her this happy was when I told her I got accepted in Nebraska state. It felt so sincere and warm. It tore me up inside. Then I looked back down to the man and looked at his eyes again through the holes of his mask. I could only see his eyes, but I swore they had the most smug look as if to say, Yeah, I made her this happy when you couldn't. But of course, he didn't say anything.

He was a dog, after all. Dogs don't talk. My God, I had to say something. "'Mom, what the fuck?' I blurted out. "'Of course, that's not exactly the words I wanted to come out, but the shock of the situation sort of chose my words for me. She raised her head, and the warm, doting smile melted from her face. "'What's your problem? Buster's back, can't you see?

"'Mom, who is that? Where did he come from?' "'Mom looked back at me like I had a skull full of shit. This isn't funny, Mikey. You're scaring Buster with your loud talking. My mom wasn't much of a prankster. Come to think of it, she wasn't much of anything. For as long as I could remember, she pretty much lived for her family. Whatever dad and I liked, she liked as well, but I still held out hope that this was some elaborate joke at my expense. But her eyes and facial expression behind her comically tiny Looney Tunes glasses,

made me realize that something was terribly wrong. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, I heard it. Wimpers coming from the thing that lay on the ground. Oh, what's wrong, bussy? Want to go out? You don't, okay. Well, stay inside with Mama. I could feel beads of sweat forming below my hairline in clusters.

I didn't know what to do. Do I call the police? Clearly my mom was unwell if she felt this thing was her dead dog. Then without warning, the man got up on all fours and started growling at me. I felt that pang of fear at my chest again. Harder this time. I clearly couldn't counter my mom for help, so what was I going to do? The man in the suit looked like he had to.

at least 50 pounds on me, and he was clearly deranged. Buster, come back here. Leave Mikey alone. He just wants to play with you, Mikey. He hasn't seen you for so long. Then I could see him tensing up as if to charge. Before waiting, I ran out the open door and back into the street, not stopping until I got home. As I type this now, it seems ridiculous, me running from a grown man in a dog costume, but I don't know. There was something so unsettling about the incident. Clearly, it was a man dressed as a dog, but I don't know. His eyes, while they were definitely human, had something else behind them that seemed

inhuman and animalistic. I walked back over to my apartment trying to make sense of what happened. happened all the way. Who was that person? Where did he come from? Was he dangerous? Last and definitely not least. What do I do now?

Do I go to the police? Tell them my mom's home has been invaded by a crazed dogman? Even if I did convince them to come to the home with me, what would they have done? I read a story online once, where a man, out of some strange fetish, decided to live out the rest of his days as a horse in California with his wife now owner, and there wasn't anything the authorities could do about it. Even if the police did something, is that really what I wanted to put my mom through? Between Dad's death and my going away, she clearly had a lot of mental baggage

and a trip to the police station to file a report, assuming she would in the first place. place was the last thing she needed. But still, leaving her in there with whatever the fuck that was wasn't a solution either. I sat on my bed and thought for a while till I realized I had to do something. I walked back over to Mom's House. The front door still open. still unsure of how to approach the situation. I pulled out my pocket knife in case things took a turn for the worse.

That's when I saw one of my old neighbors, Ms. Johansen and her patio, looking in the direction of my house. I whistled her over to the sidewalk, careful not to make too much noise for my mom or buster to notice. Mikey, is your mom okay? Um, why do you ask? She studied me carefully. Well, she's been laughing and giggling really loud, and just before I saw you, she started cursing at someone.

I know she lives alone since you left, so I don't know what's going on. Maybe she had the TV on. The thing is, it's not just that. Last night, I got up to use the wall. washroom and through the window, I saw a huge dog in your front lawn. It was about the size of a great Dane. I thought about calling animal control, but who would believe in old coot like me? Who would believe that indeed, I thought to myself. Thanks, Miss Johansen. I think maybe you should call the police. Usually, Miss Johansson was the kind of old biddy to ask why, but she sensed the urgency

of the situation and hurried inside to call the cops. No sooner had I turned back to face the house. I heard my mom scream. I hopped the wall of the house and walked inside to see the dogman trying to mount my mother as she fought back. I tried to focus on what was happening before my very eyes. His growls and snorts together with my mom's scream almost sent me crazy. My fear and shock quickly turned to rage when I folded out the blade from my pocket knife

and threw myself at him at full speed. I crashed into him and took him down to the ground and a move reminiscent of my old Pop Warner days as I slipped the knife between his shoulder blades. I could hear him yelp in pain as I grabbed him and began punching the leather mask he was wearing. I heard his animalistic growls again as he lunged forward and bit my forearm.

A bolt of pain ran up my right arm as I tried to pry his mouth open from the mask. Mikey, what are you doing? was all I could hear from behind me. This fucker was strong. I felt him trying to pull me closer with one arm, but I fought back with everything until I heard the police sirens. The most human look of fear washed over his eyes as he opened his mouth

and ran on all fours out the open back door and over the neighbor's fence. I was bleeding everywhere, and my mom wore a confused look on her face the entire time. When the police cleared the house in the neighborhood, with no reports of a seven-foot-tall man. I wasn't particularly surprised. I deliberately left out the details of the dog suit. I didn't need the police looking at me side-eyed.

We made a report as usual, and investigators chalked it up to a homeless derelict who thought he could fit himself into Mom's home. It still didn't answer a lot of questions. For now, Mom is staying with me at my apartment. I have an appointment lined up with a psychiatrist for her the next morning. I love her so much, and I just want to do what's best for her, what I should have done all along. I hope this whole episode is over.

Reading it about a year from now might seem a little less terrifying and a little more funny, but the growling I hear ever so often outside my door as I write this doesn't help ease my mind. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, please visit creepypod.com. If you'd like to submit a story for consideration or recommend a story, please see our submission page at creepypod.com slash submissions. All stories told on this podcast are done so through creative comments, share-a-like licensing, or with written consent from the office. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the stories author.