Creepy - A Peculiar Kind of Madness

Episode Date: August 9, 2021

Mind the bell...***Written by Matt Dymerski with guest narration by Erika Sanderson***Bonus Episode: "Fan Fetish" written by Kyle Harrison and narrated by Megan McDuffee (Content warning: stalking)***See how you can support the show at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound design by Pacific Obadiah***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.

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This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents. A peculiar kind of madness. Written by Matt Demoski

and narrated by Erica Sanderson. I had always known that my great grandma was an orphan, but in late October of last year, she decided to tell me the truth about what happened to her family. We were visiting her for her birthday. It was a tradition in our house. household. A road trip we knew in the back of our minds would take only a few more times. She was turning 98. So, that was just a cold heart truce of the matter. In my childhood, the journey to central

Iowa had been a fond and lighthearted affair, but now my brother and parents could only maintain strained politeness as we met up and hit the road together. Each of us knew that this trip might be our last. For several hours, we drove through vast, open farm fields that stretched from horizon to horizon. My great-grandma's house was down a narrow dirt road off a wide dirt road off a gravel tractor lane. As a city boy, it was, more or less, the most remote possible dwelling I could imagine. She was born there, had lived her entire life there, and would soon, well, as we parked in an open muddy rectangle and stepped out to stretch our legs, the constancy of the place surrounded me. Every single year of my life, this house and its land had been exactly the same. The sky was

open blue. The earth was a sea of waving gold, and the wind was a smooth river of cool warmth. There was never anything to mar those three pillars of sensory experience except the house, the barn, a defunctable tractor, and the bell. The bell was a simple thing, raised high on an old metal crook. It sat out in the fields about a quarter mile from the house, serving as a measure of the wind. If a storm was coming, the bell was supposed to ring, a necessary precaution in tornado country. The problem was, the bell and its crooked rusted over long ago. Every time I got out of the family van from age 5 to age 26, I glanced that direction, and felt a sense of unease as my gaze fell upon that decayed artifact.

This time, at age 27, I looked over and saw that the bell had been scraped and polished clean or rust. It glinted in the sunlight, practically daring me to look at it. I followed my family inside while struggling with the feeling of dread that I couldn't articulate. Who would clean the bell? And why? I tried to stop thinking about it as we gathered in the kitchen and said our hello's. My great-grandma was making tea. She shooed off our attempts to help. She was a frail woman for whom movement was difficult, but she'd never let that stop her. The Wi-Fi password is on a note in the living room, she told us, with unquestionable authority. Go stare at your phones and the tea will be ready in a moment.

My brother and I did as we were told. But my parents turned on the television. instead of looking at their phones. For a few minutes we stayed in our separate worlds, only returning to the present when my great-grandmother brought in the tea. And we had a nice time. That night, when everyone else was long asleep, I happened to open my eyes and see a glow under the door of the guest room I shared with my brother. My parents were in a different room and would not see the same light.

So it was up to me to investigate. Quietly, so was not to wake him. I crept out and down, trying to my great-grandma still awake. She sat in her big jade leather chair, her gaze on the television. She asked me without looking my way. You don't fall for this stuff, do you? What, like, ads? She pointed her thin little arm at the nearby couch.

Sit. I sat. I'm going to tell you a family secret. She said softly, finally looking in my direction. It's for you and possible. for your brother, but not for your parents. Do you understand? I didn't, not fully, but I nodded.

You know, I was an orphan for a time. Born in this house, lived with my family, but then raised by an uncle after it happened. She didn't wait for my nod. I was ten years old that night. It was my birthday. My mother had gotten me a small cake about the size of your fist. I looked forward to that cake every year since we didn't exactly have sweets bounding about back then. It was 11 cents, so rather expensive.

But my mother got one for every one of us on our birthdays, no matter what she had to scrimp or save. All year long, I saw Mary get her cake in January, Arthur get his cake in March, Eleanor and June, Clarence in July, then Ruth, the week after Clarence. Then it was months and months until me, the odd one out, on October 29th. I was so excited for that cake. As the days rolled closer, as the morning dawned, as the hours inched by, I hopped around the house like a bunny rabbit. But I wasn't allowed to eat until well after supper.

I stared at the clock, so I know. the one on the mantle there, the brass and chrome one. Same one. But I stared at the clock, so I know. Night fell at 6.41. That was the moment bright orange stopped glinting off that clock, and my mother rose to light a lamb. I looked up at her. Now? She smiled and shook her hat. My brothers and sisters complained in a chorus in support of me, but she just shook her head at them. Too soon, and she'll ruin her supper. Father came in from the fields not long after that, dirty and tired as all get out. He ate in silence while we chattered endlessly about what type of cake it would be.

Under the frosting, who knew it might be raspberry, vanilla, or even chocolate. We grew silent as father neared the clearing of his plate, an event which would mark the end of supper. Four pieces of meat and bread remain. Then three. Then two. Any moment now. He stopped at the last piece, holding it unmoving above the remaining dollop of gravy.

We turned our heads. It was the bell. The bell was ringing out in the fields. Father grunted, then put the last piece of his food back on his plate before rising. He opened the front door. We braced ourselves for the wind, but none came. He spat on and held up a finger to the night air, then shook his head. He moved back into our lamplight and sat. Arthur asked, is it going to storm?

Mary asked, is there going to be a tornado? My mother shook her head, smiled at us and told us not to worry. No wind meant no storm. But that bell kept ringing. My father dipped his last piece of food in the gravy and prepared to eat it despite the constantly ringing bell. But then sighed and put it back down. He motioned to Clarence. Clarence was the oldest, so he understood. He was nearly a man himself. and tying the bell would be no problem. He grabbed a candle, protected the flame with his hand, and headed out the open front door. My brothers and sisters and I piled up to the window. Opening it, we found nothing but absolutely still chilly air. We watched his little spot of light move out around the house

and into the fields in the direction of the bell. The clanging metallic sound stopped finally. and the candle's little flame hovered next to it for a solid minute. Why is he taking so long to tie it, Ruth asked. Eleanor suggested, maybe he's having trouble making a knot. Nots are tough. We watched for another minute or two before, and I know how this sounds. The little flame in the distance began to rise,

slowly, smoothly, straight up, We followed it with our eyes, exclaiming the entire time as it moved out of sight beyond the roof overhand. The bell began ringing again. His knot must have come loose, Arthur said. Our parents came to look at our insistence, but there was nothing to see by them. Father motions to Arthur. Happy to help out, Arthur grabbed a full lamp, rather than. than a candle. He hurried out the front door, round the house, and into the fields while we watched him

from the window. The lamp was easier to see, and we were absolutely certain he reached the crook. As the lamp light hovered there, the bell stopped ringing. At that point, we had no reason to think anything was amiss. Maybe the wind had just blown a wisp of burning candlestring up into the sky, and Clarence had gotten lost in the dark. He would see the lamplight, find Arthur, and they would both come back. The rising little flame we'd seen had just been a fluke. Only problem was,

staring out into the autumn night, we still felt no wind at all. We stared at that unmoving light for a strangely long period of time. What was he doing out there? was he calling for his brother? Why couldn't we hear him if so? Our parents looked away for a moment,

and in that instant the lamb went out. We children bleed it, but by the time they glanced back, there was nothing to see. There was only darkness. The bell began ringing again. My father began grumbling, but there were no more sons to send out.

outside. He narrowed his eyes with thought, then handed Ruth, the oldest girl among us, our main lamp. Our mother laughed. Ruth, be a deer and go and find your silly brothers. Ruth was a little hesitant, but she accepted the lamp. Leaving us in darkness without it, she headed out around the house and out into the fields. This lamp was brighter, and we We could actually see her carrying hand and her white pajamas in a small lit halo. On the way there, she regularly called out. Clarence? Arthur? You two lost? About halfway to where the other two lights had stopped.

Her calls went instantly silent mid-sentence. Clarence? Arthur? It wasn't that she'd given up yelling. The sound reaching us had simply stopped completely. We could still see her carrying the lamp, still see her hand in pajamas, still see her turning this way and that. She even raised the house lamp near her face, and we saw her shouting into the darkness.

We just didn't hear anything, nothing except that constantly clanging bell, growing faster in pace and louder in urgency. Mary, Eleanor, and I looked up at our parents with fearful gazes. My father shook his head, speaking for the first time that night. So there's wind out there after all. The air is like a river inside an ocean. It's moving fast out there, carrying her voice away.

But we can't feel it in here. My mother seemed worried, but she nodded and accepted that. We saw her accepting it, so we gulped and believed it, too. We all glued our eyes to that open window. Ruth reached the bell, and in that strong delight it entered our view unmoving the exact same time we heard it stopped ringing. Ruth looked this way and that, clearly concerned. She seemed to silently yell a time or two before moving closer to the motionless bell. A half-tied rope hung from the crook, an indication that someone had attempted to tie it,

but we couldn't see Clarence or Arthur anywhere near her. She put the lamp down on the ground to free her hands for tying the rope the rest of the way, but that mostly hit the light among the low-lying recently harvested stalks. We waited. Breaths held. The air held in my lungs started to burn. At long last, we were forced to breathe again. Roots light continued to sit there, barely visible between the broken plants. What's taking so long? Mary asked. Eleanor said, I hope she's all right. Father told us, she's fine. Damn kids are just playing. a game with us. Our mother nodded in agreement. Eleanor, go fetch your sister, will you? Eleanor shook her head. No way. It's scary out there. It's just a game. You're not playing a game with us, too, are you? No, Eleanor gulped. Then go ahead your sister and brothers. Tell them to come back in. It was pitch black out there, and almost the same inside with us, save for one lone candle.

Trembling, Eleanor took our last candle and crept out into the night, scooting along the side of the house to stay as close to us as possible. Shakily, she called, Ruth, Arthur, Clarence, this isn't funny anymore. Now it was we who sat in the dark. As Eleanor began to move further away with the last of our light, we tensed. Father eyed the open front door, and mothers softly moved to close and latch it. I wondered what they meant by that move, because how were the others supposed to get back in? But I suppose they'd unlatch it if anyone came back and knocked. Mother moved away from us in search of more candles,

though through it all the bell kept ringing out in the dark. Increasingly scared, I held Mary's hand tightly and yelled out the window. Be careful, Ellie! Be careful, Ellie! She must have happened to cross that invisible silent threshold at that moment because she turned around and surprised and stepped closer. I heard your voice go quiet, but there's no wind. Papa's wrong.

She stepped away again. See, when I pass this point, my... She held up the candle to show us that her mouth was still moving, but we heard nothing. Come to think of it, her hair wasn't moving, and we hadn't seen Roots' pajamas billowing in any wind. I asked Father, what's doing that? What's making it quiet out there?

It's just a game, Father insisted. They're all lying. She's just pretending to make noise so it looks like she's being silenced. Eleanor reached the bell. Father's grip on my shoulder squeezed to nearly painful. She reached down for the lamp Ruth had left. lifting it with one hand and holding the candle with the other, she approached the clanging bell. See, Mary whispered to father, the candle's not going out even though she's not protecting the flame.

There's no wind out there. But the bell is ringing, he said gruffly, so there is wind. Eleanor kept looking left and right, as if she'd heard something. Slowly she reached the bell Which was hanging on moving from the crook But we could still hear it ringing Next to me Mary began to cry

It's a game Father said angrily It's just a game they're playing Eleanor threw the lamp at something in the darkness We saw the lamp crash Shatter and go dark But heard nothing She raced towards us

candle in hand, but the flame went out because of her haste. We waited to hear her approaching or screaming, but nothing followed. The bell continued to clang. We waited in terrified silence. Mother returned with a candle for each of us, and we sat vigil at the window. Nothing and no one moved. For hours the bell clanged without wind. The night remained pitchboard. The bell clanged and clanged and clanged, driving deeper into our ears with each passing minute. Near midnight, we broke. Father was beyond agitated. Mary, go find your brothers and sisters.

No, she cried. I'm not going out there. Mother glared at her. You have to. This game has to stop. urged on by both of them, Mary burst into tears and climbed out the window, holding her small candle she inched out into the fields. Her sobs went quiet as she passed that same point out in the darkness.

Her flame reached the bell and the ringing stopped. Her flame snuffed out. We held our breaths. The bell began ringing again. Father clenched his fists. Go, I turned and saw that he was looking at me. I suddenly realized I was the only child left in the house, and I felt horribly alone.

Everything in me shrieked against the thought of going out into that cursed night. No. My mother wavered in place, no longer adamantly in line with my father. She began to cry, too. What are you doing? he demanded. It's just a game. There's nothing to be scared off.

She screamed and demanded, why do you keep saying that? Why have I been helping you do this? He grabbed her and shouted in her face. Because we haven't been sending our children to their deaths. That's not what's happening. She pushed his hands away and ran for the window. Pushing past me, she tumbled out and ran screaming toward the still clanging bell,

not out of fear of father, but out of terror for her children. Arthur, Clarence, Ruth, Eleanor, Mary, for God's sake, where are you? He growled and leapt out after her, yelling, We didn't kill them. Everything is fine. They both continued shouting until they passed that point in the dark. and all went silent, except for the bell. Twice more it stopped ringing, and twice more it began again.

In panic and terror beyond reason, I closed and latched the window and pushed all of the furniture against every entrance to the house. I curled in a cupboard, holding the last candle up to my face as it slowly melted its way down toward my finger. I was alone. Somehow, I was alone. We'd all seen the danger and stared right at it as it happened. But one by one, they'd all gone out there anyway. I'd been surrounded by a full band of siblings my entire life.

And now I was completely and utterly alone in a house in the middle of nowhere. By the length of of my candle. It was three in the morning when the knock came at the door. I trembled, but did not make a sound. The knock sounded again, 40 heartbeats later. It was louder this time. I shook, holding my candle tight. The third knock was more like a tremendous crash or kick, and I heard the door explode inward. Sixty heart. beats of silence passed, and then the floorboards creaked. Something in me told me to put out my candle for fear of it being seen through the cracks in the cupboard. But I didn't dare. Not darkness. I couldn't handle darkness. I would scream

if I did, so I kept it lit. Slow, quiet steps moved through the house. Whoever it was to be pausing and listening at times. At others, they would rush forward to a random spot in a sudden frenzy and then stop abruptly. Four hundred heartbeats after that, the bell began ringing again. But this time, it rang from inside the house. It rang from the kitchen. It rang from near the bed. It rang outside my cupboard. Clang, ten feet away. Clang, five feet away. Clang, right up against the cupboard door.

And then it opened. I said expectantly, mouth open and eyes wide, as I waited for my great-grandmother to continue. After a bit, I realized that was it. But what'd you see? She shook her head. That's not the point. I'm here, so obviously I survived.

And a young man like you doesn't need to know what horrors walk this earth outside the paved cities of man. Gulping, I asked. You're not just pulling my leg. This really happened? Yes. Her gaze went distant by television light. But here's what I want to tell you and what you should tell your brother. The thing that opened that cupboard door and stared at me from the dark,

the thing that hoped to wait out my candle before the coming of dawn, had a bell tied to one of its teeth with a blood-soaked rag, such that it would clang when its mouth was opened for hunting. Somehow, some way, some heroic poor soul managed to tie a warning bell to that thing before they died. We heard that warning bell all night long, and yet my entire family walked out there one by one. We didn't listen because we didn't want to listen. My father knew what he was doing halfway through, but he didn't want to listen. but he didn't want to accept what he'd already done,

so he did even worse to continue living the lie. I narrowed my eyes. What are you saying? She grabbed my hand briefly. Fear will tell you to put your candle out, but your head will tell you to keep it lit. Don't give in to fear. You keep it lit.

You'll get through this. Turning my head, I became aware of a sound in distance. Is that... Is that the bell? I was so caught up I didn't notice. How long has that been ringing? She just clenched her fist and turned back to the television. For your bonus episode,

Creepy Presents, fan fetish. Written by Kyle Harrison. and narrated by Megan McDuffie. I sit covered in blood, head to toe with a rusty hammer in my hand. The camera is blipping, telling me all of my subscribers have just watched me murder a man, all because I started an OnlyFans page. My close friend Cindy was the one who convinced me to join OnlyFans. One night we got into a long chat about making En's meet on Facebook Messenger.

I just want to provide for my girls. I cried. With a body like yours, you could make hot stacks of cash, she teased. I blushed deep red. I could never do that. I would be so self-conscious and embarrassed, but I don't want you to think I look down on you for doing that. You're young and single and look amazing, I told her. And so do you. You would be shocked at the amount of money that people have given me for sending just some simple little nip slips and stuff like that. it's good money, and it's not like you're hurting anyone, Cindy told me. I'll think about it. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to sound old-fashioned. It just sounds so risque, I typed back. If you want to provide your family with the things you need, it's a good option. No pressure, girl. The next week came and went, and Haley missed out on participating in a fundraiser with her friends

because we were low on funds. She was furious with me, and I realized I was robbing her of a normal childhood more than any virus could. So I bought a decent camera and decided to start an only fan's account that same night. I wasn't going to be as bold as Cindy with full-body pictures.

No, I was going to dip my toes in, so to speak, with feet picks. Even though it was only just my feet that I was exposing, to the world. I still felt very self-conscious about it, so I waited until my girls went to bed, and then I called up Cindy to come over and take multiple angles. We stayed up for the next three hours, me trying my best to make my feet look sensual, and her encouraging me to take things a little farther. It felt strange being on camera, but that nervousness began to fade as I noticed. I was starting to get subscribers right away. Cindy left. Cindy left. left me to finish up the page on my own, but I was having a hard time ignoring all of these fans.

Complete strangers that were willing to pay me more just to jack off to my feet. Reading the comments was beginning to give me a new sense of identity. One user, Ross on the run, had quite a few compliments to dole out. Those souls are so pretty. I would suck on your toes all day. Totally lickable. mouth-watering. I'm drooling right now. I would gladly give you a massage any time you wanted, babe. More and more of these adoration came pouring in as I read my only fan's page and got giddy.

Russ stood out, though. It was a bit bizarre, the things he said he wanted to do, but I told myself I shouldn't knock anyone's fetish and that it was just harmless. What do I do now? I texted Cindy. Talk to the spree. Subscribers, ask them what they want, and do it live on camera. Fans go crazy for interaction like that, she told me. That sounded like something I wasn't ready for, so I balked at the last second and told her I needed to get some sleep. The next day, though, as I surprised the girls by taking them to bask in Robbins for ice cream, my mind kept mulling over how easy it would be to earn more.

Just a little more exposure was harmless. It's not like I had anyone in my life that would judge me. me. And the messages on my page were even more encouraging. Reading them was all the motivation I needed. I would gladly pay to rub lotion on those sexy feet. Nobody knows how amazing your feet are, babe. Stunning, just like I remember. That one made me pause, and I checked the username. Russ on the run. Was he really that obsessed? It was a little weird, especially as I checked the other DMs he sent me. We don't know each other, but I would gladly worship your feet. One of them was a video of himself. I had to admit that if it wasn't for the creepy DMs,

I would find him attractive. You will always be a ten. I have dreamed of finding a woman like you my entire life. Can I ask for a private session? I will pay any price. I know we haven't ever met and we don't know each other at all, but this feels like fate. I am. need you in my life. Again, I had to freeze in shock at his boldness. I stopped the video immediately and asked myself, how could anyone be this addicted to just me? I wasn't anything special. I put my phone away and focused on my twin girls, glad they were enjoying the afternoon. Inwardly, I was in turmoil, though, unsure what to think or how to react. When the girls went to bed, I finally got the courage to check messages on my screen. To my surprise, he had sent a little video of himself again.

He scratched behind his ears nervously. Uh, this is really awkward, isn't it? Meeting again like this. You must think I'm some kind of pervert. I have to admit, I have definitely had some wet dreams about you. But this is clearly meant to be, us crossing paths. I know I would be good for you, and I think we should just dive in. It just makes sense. As soon as I finished that video, I noticed he was online and felt awkward. A flashing icon on screen told me he wanted to chat. I clicked the button to connect and waited seven long seconds as his camera came on. It felt like an eternity.

I was thinking that I should just back away. Something was off. But that offer for more money was so great. It scared me more to risk saying no. I was worried I scared you off, unless you're into that. The mystery man said, with a nervous chuckle. Funny, I was thinking my stinky feet would be the fear factor, I said, with a reassuring smile. Everything that was said was laced with some kind of motive, but also in a harmless way.

He was just trying to make me feel comfortable, I told myself. I was ignoring any signs of him being a threat. Well, fortunately the webcam doesn't come equipped with smell sensors, just eyes on you, babe. He kept making me laugh like that all night, and before I knew it, we were starting to talk about connecting in the real world. I just don't think I'm ready for that, I admitted. Sure, I understand, Russ said, sounding disappointed. Then he got him mischievous grin on his face and asked, could I at least ask again for that private show?

It felt a little dirty, extremely exciting, and also gink-changing, that I was even considering saying yes. I can pay. It's no issue. You name the price. I just want all of you. But it felt wrong. He was always so insistent, and also so enticing. Russ had no idea how badly I needed that money, how far I would go, and maybe I didn't know for sure either. Maybe that was what really scared me. He knew that I would not say no as his figure kept going up and up. So, I gave in. I had only been at this for maybe a week, and I was already pushing the limits of what I thought was acceptable.

Less and less clothing, more seductive poses, more than, exhilarating in private videos for Russ. I hated myself for what I was willing to do, terrified at how far I would go. Then, one day when I asked him how he had been, he made a curious suggestion. We've been dancing around this for a while now, so I'm just going to come out and say it.

I like you. I think you are super attractive, and I would love to get with you. He blushed red can on screen. Russ, I don't know what to say. Say you feel the same. Say you need me the way I need you. I want to, but I can't.

I don't want to get hurt again. I'm not like other guys. And I have to think of my family. That was a mistake. I had actually never mentioned having children to him, and it caught him by surprise. I could see it in his face. Wait, are you married?

You sound like you were accusing me of something. I told you before I have feelings for you. I just want to make sure this is actually going somewhere. How am I supposed to get you all to myself? I heft, and I told you I'm not ready. Stop pressuring me. This isn't what I want in my life right now, Russ, and how dare you talk about my girls that way?

I've done everything for you. I deserve something like this. What is that supposed to mean? You owe me some kind of respect, unless you just used me? He snapped back. His eyes were full of a rage I had never seen. I decided to pull the plug immediately and blocked him.

His true colors had shown, and it frightened me. I had gotten too attached, and I didn't know anything about him, I told Cindy. She encouraged me to keep posting. though. You've got a fan base that is paying it through the nose for you. Don't let Russ's obsession be the reason you call it quits. I knew she was right. The extra money had been nice, but the compliments and the avid fans were even nicer. Over the next two weeks, I kept pushing my boundaries even further,

showing more erotic videos, and even giving other members private shows. Several of them were big spenders. Dom, a German that was into bondage. Jerry, a deaf man that I actually signed in lingerie for. Sam, a rich British lord supposedly, and Calvin, a bodybuilder from the same town as me. Each of them lavished me with gifts, and I would display them on camera every time I got one. The attention was addictive, and I craved more. Calvin was the one that made the move that none of them dared to ask. Let's meet up, he offered. He reminded me of the gentleman that Russ had once been, and he never pushed for anything with strings attached.

So I said yes. This was the change I needed in my life. Even though I didn't know what Calvin looked like, I told myself I was ready to give myself to him. Obsession to boost my views clouded my judgment. I arranged for grandparents to come take the girls for the night and dolled myself up. Then I got my camera ready. I figured that Calvin wouldn't mind. The minutes ticked away, seemingly forever, as I stood there nervously.

Then my loft doorbell rang, and I raced to the door in my most alluring nightgown. I opened it, with a full smile on my face. It quickly turned to a frown as I realized. It was Russell. What are you doing here? I asked in surprise, taking a step back. this is exactly how it's meant to be, Michelle. You and me together, he said, as he closed the door to my loft.

Or did you reject me because I wasn't the perfect alpha male like you imagined Calvin to be? Don't you see that I am what's good for you? He asked me in frustration. Russell, this is all very sweet, I said nervously. But you are starting to scare me. You shouldn't have lied to me. You should learn when someone's... says no, that means you need to back off. I'm tired of letting good things slip through my fingers,

Michelle. You'll see, I'm going to make this work. Then he showed me he had something behind his back. It looked like a bag to cover my head. Immediately I screamed and tried to fight back, but he was already on top of me, shoving a rag on my face and calmly whispering, It's going to be all right, Michelle. We'll be together now. I woke up in a plain white room on a mattress. My head was spinning, and I wanted to pupe. My clothes had been changed, and I was now wearing stiletto heels, looking more like a model than I had ever attempted before.

I was also handcuffed to the top of the mattress via a headboard. The room was windowless. It reminded me of the old abandoned apartments on the east side of the river. and in front of me was a tripod with a camera pointed straight at me. Instinctively I yanked at the chains to see if I could get very far, but it was an exercise in futility. It simply tugged me back down on the mattress, and immediately I started to hyperventilate. It was plainly obvious what had happened here. Russell, Russell, I know you hear me. You can't keep me here. I screamed out. I heard strange, noise from somewhere above me, and his familiar voice began to speak from an intercom.

Michelle, you need to calm down. That won't look good for your audience. He chided me. My audience? What are you talking about? Are you putting this content on my only fans page? Of course I am. I realized after we left your loft that it wouldn't be fair for me to just keep you to myself. Not yet. Anyway, the world is needs to experience your amazing beauty and see how they are missing out. So I'm going to be your director now, Michelle, and we're going to make something truly special together. He told me, you've chained me to a bed. You don't even have the balls to look me in the eye for what I did. How can you even pretend anything about this is authentic? He laughed maliciously.

Was anything you ever did real? It was all an act, Michelle. None of those people understood what you were doing. Why, you were doing it. My girls need me. What are you going to do? How are you going to explain that I just abandoned them? I screamed at the top of my lungs. They are taken care of by your grandparents for the moment. And by the time anyone realizes we left, it won't matter. You belong to me now, Michelle. This isn't going to be an act. I will make it real. So I suggest if you want things to be. to get better for you that you cooperate. I will be there in five minutes for our first photo session.

Remember to smile for the camera, or else. I tried a few more times to pull the chain from the headboard, but Russ had it on too tight. When he came in, he was looking every bit as smug as I expected. You're a coward. I knew I was right to reject you. Am I, Michelle? or am I the only one that really sees you for what you are?

What is that supposed to mean? You're on camera now, my love, and your subscribers only care about one thing. To them, you are just an item, a toy. You've forgotten what it's like to think for yourself. They don't care about you. I was the only one who ever did. He started the camera. Just remember to behave, or something bad will happen to all the...

you care about? You started to cry and looked into the lens. I could see my reflection, and I was sure that Russell was hoping I was disgusted with myself. But I wasn't about to give him that pleasure. I motioned with my hands as I started to pose for the camera, making Russ smile. But he didn't know I had a different motive. As the camera focused in on me, slowly I moved my hands in a certain pattern, just noticeably. enough that someone out there might get my message.

You're getting me so hot and bothered, Michelle. You really are something. Russ said. I smiled for him, continuously motioning the camera a set of signs. If I was really lucky, Russell was wrong about my subscribers. You know, I still want that truly private session. Just you and me and the camera. That way it lasts forever, he said. I clenched my fists, trying not to sound terrified by his perverse mind. Then why don't you come over here and we can film it together? I said in the most seductive voice I could muster.

It was bait that he couldn't resist. I knew you would see things my way, babe. He said as he got closer. I smiled and let him close in for a kiss. I had to keep this act going until I knew that he trusted me. I'll show you how I really feel about you, Russell, I said as he started to put his hands on me. I wasn't about to let this go any further.

With every bit of force I had in my body, I wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled him next to the headboard. Thanks to the way he had chained me down, the metal acted as a noose, forcing him to remain motionless as I pinned him down. "'You little bitch!' "'He screamed. "'Give me the key!' I shouted.

"'But he responded by kicking me in the chest. "'His pure brute strength made the chain snap "'as he ripped through the headboard "'and tried to grab at my neck. "'I had only a second to respond, "'so I reached the pillow and smothered him, "'forcing him to be unable to breathe. "'Michel, no, this isn't how it's supposed to be,'

He said as he coughed up a little blood. I saw a hammer nearby and strained the chains to reach for it. I'm tired of hearing your voice, I said, pulling the hammer and slamming it again and again in his head. He tried to lunge for me again, and in an act of self-defense I hammered into his face. He screamed and fell to the mattress, grabbing at my arms. I knew if I didn't kill him, he was going to kill me. I kept clobbering his skull over and over, blood splattering over his body as I finally realized he was dead. Russ was gone, but I was still trapped.

I checked the loft doors only to confirm I was locked in. Then I sat on the mattress in the blood and looked at the camera. Someone out there has to help me. Please, I'll do anything. I choked up those words, feeling. guilty for what I had been forced to do. No, this is what Russell had forced me to do. The comments from subscribers were even more terrifying.

You want free, babe? Show me what you can do with blood on your body. That whole thing was hot. I want more badass from you. I adjusted the camera and swallowed my pride. You want more? Fine. I will give you more. I raged for the back pocket of Russ, pulling out a hunting knife and placing it against my wrists. I'm serious about this. Get me out of here or your little show ends here and now! He screamed to my viewers. The camera blinked, uncaring about my plight. I started to cut, blood dripping onto the floor.

Wait! The message popped up. I can help. It was Jerry. the deaf man I had signed to that ultimately was able to figure out where Russ had kept me when the police came and I was freed he told me that he was sorry for being a part of the gory show I had been victim to

I didn't realize any of it was real until you started to hurt yourself he told me over chat just like the others they thought everything I did was an act I will hopefully get a chance to thank you someday you saved my life I told him sending him a price

private video. But honestly, after my ordeal, I don't know if I can even perform as a creator on OnlyFans anymore. I can't really believe that these fans are going to dictate what you are, Cindy asked me. How can I be sure that there won't be other creeps out there? You can't. You embrace it. That's the only way to overcome any fear. And the fans told me the same thing, offering me support. Besides, if push comes to shove, just make sure to always keep the camera rolling. 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 license, or with written consent from the authors. 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.