Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - [BONUS] Our Alien Overlords Are Wonderful and Benevolent

Episode Date: July 4, 2026

Listen to the full bonus story including over 90 more with a 7-day FREE TRIAL of ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Dr. NoSleep Premium⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Just go to ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/drnosleep���⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ to join. Cancel anytime. No commitment. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If you're into horror with a heavy dose of sci-fi, classified experiments, and things humanity was never meant to understand, check out my other podcast, the SCP experience. Each episode pulls you into the hidden world of the SCP Foundation, where dangerous anomalies are studied, contained, and sometimes unleashed. These aren't just scary stories. They're classified nightmares. Click here to listen now or search for the SCP experience wherever you get your podcasts. The closet I sleep in is hot. Kicking off the thin, scratchy blanket, I stretch my arms out as far as the small space will allow. Then I extend my leg from its cramped, folded position, trying to wake up the nerves and get the blood flowing again. Pins and needles assault me, but I don't cringe or complain.

At least I'm alive. Which is more than I can say for most of my friends and neighbors. The taste in my mouth is horrendous, so I hunt around my crawl space for my water ration, finding my bottle of thin plastic, and getting thinner with every reuse. I sip the last few drops and pray that I'll be given more soon. My stomach rumbles, but I ignore it. My food rations ran out yesterday morning.

I may get watered today, but I won't be handed more food until tomorrow afternoon. Right? Tomorrow afternoon? I checked the hash marks I've notched into the wall behind my sleeping pallet and count the days since my last ration allotment. Eight days.

Wait, eight days? That can't be right. I'm supposed to get food rations every five days. Double-checking the hash marks, I confirm my first count. For the 17 months, two weeks, and four days I've been here, food rations have always come every fifth day. I don't know what this means, but it can't be good. Of course, the reality is that nothing here is ever good.

My stomach rumbles again, and using the set of shelves that loom above my sleeping space, I pull myself up to get ready for the day. The general alarm hasn't even gone off yet, telling everyone that it's time to wake up. But I'm ready for the hellish day to begin so we can get it over with. Seventeen months of this hell have taught me to always be early, so I don't even need the general alarm to get my ass out of bed. If you can call this a bed.

I look down in my sleeping palate and tears well in my eyes. No, no, not this morning. No crying this morning. Be strong, be strong, damn it. Balancing on my one leg, I find my crutch and tuck it up. under my armpit for stability. Then I perform my morning routine of awkward contortions while I tried to dress myself without falling over. I've gotten pretty good at it if I do say so. Sure, I could sleep in my clothes, but they have become so rank and stiff from a lack of washing that I might as well

sleep wrapped in tinfoil. Dressed, still upright, and hungry as hell, I snag my water bottle and shove open the closet door, crutching my way into my classroom. The students' desks are lined up neatly. three rows of six, all facing my desk up front and the chalkboard looming behind it. I navigate between two of the rows, careful not to disturb their perfect alignment, and rest for a moment at my desk before I take care of my next task. Before all this, teaching came with its share of humiliations. Now, those humiliations are the price I pay to survive one more day. I crutch over to the corner of the room next to the row of boarded up windows,

the glass long shattered from the sonic booms of arrival day. Pushing on one of the boards, I make a gap large enough to let some fresh air in and let some of this stale, suffocating air out. It also gives me ventilation for my next task, the waist bucket. Balancing awkwardly over the bucket, I lower my pants down my one remaining leg

and take care of what little dignity this place has left me. Cleaning myself isn't easy as I lean a shoulder against the wall and try to plant my one foot as firmly as possible on the floor, while wedging the crutch against one of the legs of my desk. Done and sickened by what I am forced to do day in and day out, I pull my pants up, then I move the bucket of filth from one side of the classroom and over to the other side, where I set it next to the door. Someone will be sent to fetch the bucket and get me a clean one.

I'm hoping that it's Teddy. I haven't seen his face in weeks. Alyssa and Marcus have been the ones on bucket duty lately. We can't speak to each other without severe punishment, so I haven't been able to ask them about Teddy. I pray he is all right. I doubt that he is. No one is. The smell in the room is horrendous, and I hope they fetch the bucket soon. The general alarm blare as I crutch my way back to my desk, ready to take my seat and wait for my students to arrive. A strange combination of the class bell and the fire alarm, the two systems make the most awful, headache-inducing, ear-splitting, nightmare soundscape imaginable. With my shoulders tense and up to my ears, I plop down in my

rickety chair and settle myself behind my desk. My throat is dry and my mouth tastes like butt. Please let today be a water day. The general alarm stops dead and I involuntarily sigh with relief. I instantly clamp my hands over my mouth and look up at the ceiling. The surveillance dome stares back at me. It's black glass like an accusatory eye. Did they hear the sigh? Would it count as breaking silence if they did? My guts clenched so tight with fear that I may have to hobble over to the bucket again. But then the day's announcement blares from the wall speaker, and I shove my worry aside. Um, good morning, everyone.

A weak, tired voice says. There's a small yelp of pain, and the voice continues in a much chipper voice. I mean, good morning, everyone. I hope you all are having a splendid morning. Trina has been handling the morning announcements these last two weeks, ever since her brother Jason was removed from announcer duty. No one has heard from Jason since, literally and figuratively. I think it's because he accidentally yawned one morning.

They don't like it when we yawn or sigh or moan or make any noise really unless it is in subservience to them. Trina starts in with the obligatory ass-kissing. Let's all thank our wonderful friends who are now looking at. over us and guiding us in making our civilization and planet a better place. Trina says, I look up at the surveillance dome. Thank you, I say. Without you, we are nothing but animals.

Without you, we would be smart apes killing ourselves and our environment. Without you, we are lost. I can just barely make out other teachers repeating the same exact words in other classrooms. It's this moment every morning that I know there are still others beyond who come and pick up my waste bucket. This morning, our wonderful and benevolent friends will be coming by each classroom to make an assessment. There's the sound of paper shuffling. Then Trina quickly clears her throat.

I do not have any other details on the assessment, but I am sure it will be for our good. She yelps again, and I can hear her pleading with someone away from the microphone. I'm sorry about that, everyone. The assessment will not be explained. Be sure to thank your friend who comes by today. Thank them for all of the wonderful and benevolent things that they do for us. Thank them for all the wonderful and benevolent actions they have taken to preserve our planet. Think them for all the wonderful and benevolent plans they have for our civilization and species.

God, Trina sounds as exhausted and fried as I feel. She clears her throat, and I can hear the sickness in her lungs. Malnourishment, unsanitary living conditions, constant stress and fear. They are all contributing to our slings. deaths, but nothing contributes more than the students. Just a reminder that any noises you make will be held against you. Incidental noises like shuffling your feet or scooting your chair are allowed, but any utterances like words or sighs or laughter will be punished immediately.

Silence is the rule. Silence is the way. Silence is the law. Listen to the rest of this bonus story, including over 90 more with a seven-day free trial of Dr. No Sleep Premium. You can cancel any time. No commitment. Just go to patreon.com slash DR.

No Sleep to join. That's patreon.com slash DR. No Sleep.