Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I should never have subscribed to my girlfriend's OnlyFans account...

Episode Date: September 30, 2021

Check out Bikram Mann's new book here: Unclean Spirits. You can also go to his Reddit page here. 👕 Official Dr. NoSleep® merch: drnosleep.com 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🔔 YouTube animations: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Advertising Inquiries: [e-mail] 📈 Business Inquiries: [e-mail] DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Talk to nicely. I admit it. I'm a simp. And no, I am not proud of that fact. If I could go back in time and stop myself when I first started acting like one, I would in a heartbeat. But I was a horny little goblin back then, and just the tiniest bit of attention from a woman was enough to fry my brain.

In my defense, though, she was absolutely gorgeous. Brown eyes that twinkled mischievously, plump, kissable red lips that parted to reveal white teeth like perfect little sugar cubes and thick dark hair that gently tickled her shoulder blades. Her dresses clung to her like they couldn't get enough of her body. And I understood why. She had just the right amount of curves in just the right places. I wanted to sink my teeth into them, just scrumptious. I couldn't believe it when she smiled at me. My jaw dropped open like a drawbridge. I stared at her from my seat in the cafe, wondering when the dream would end. It didn't. Not even when she got up and click-clacked over to me, her heels making her hips sway hypnotically.

She slipped into the chair in front of me and asked whether I was staring at her. Dear God, her voice. It was like she was pouring nectar into my ears. I shook my head like an idiot. She laughed and it was music, like birds singing an ode to the falling leaves of an autumn morning. Cute, she said, and bitter bottom lip. And that was that. One meeting, and she had me wrapped around her fingers.

To say that our relationship was a whirlwind romance would be an understatement. It all feels like a blur to me, like the view inside a train that is zooming past yours in the opposite direction. I had no idea how she so quickly wriggled her way into my life, settling in like she had always belonged there. I felt like God himself was smiling down on me, and not one to spit on my blessings. I agreed with whatever she suggested, unknowingly losing myself in her, piece by piece. I changed my dressing sense for her, dropped my childhood friends like the dead weight that they were, quit playing video games because it's a child's hobby, not something a grown man in his mid-20s should ever waste his time with. I sold off my G.I. Joe collection. Got a job I hated,

bought a car that was too expensive, and took out a loan for a house much bigger than we could have possibly needed and added her name to the fucking deed. All to please the pert little succubus. At least the sex was heavenly. So heavenly, in fact, that I didn't even protest much when she told me she was going to start an only fan's account. It'll be good for us, she said, flashing her slender wrists at me, making my heart melt. We need the money, babe. Besides, they only get to look. Only you can touch me. Aside, loosened my tie and grunted. Just don't tell me what you post on there. I don't want to know. She squealed with joy and jumped on my lap, reminding me why I was putting up with all this shit in the first place. That's when

thing started to go wrong. Terribly, horrifyingly wrong. I would wake up from nightmares I could never remember, more exhausted than I had been when I crashed into bed that would get soaked to the wood with my sweat. I began sleeping longer, but had absolutely no energy during the day. My skin was losing its color. My eyes had dark circles deep like gorgeous, and my hands would tremble with weakness. At first I chalked it all up to stress. I was overworked, without friends, stuck in a superficial relationship, and burdened with staggering financial obligations. Of course, my body was finally starting to give out. I wasn't a machine after all, was I? But then the bruises started to appear on my hands, thighs, back, knees, elbows,

My body was being dotted with these little red marks that would inexplicably appear each morning, and they would hurt, like the bite of a fire ant. She had no clue what was causing this, but I did. It all began with that damn only fan's account, and I knew I was going to get my answers there. I quickly set up an account and subscribed to hers. But to my utter disappointment, there was nothing out of the ordinary there, just lingerie pictures, a couple of full-body nudes. That's it.

Nothing that would explain what I was going through. This was because she had another account. Under a pseudonym, one that she never told me about. Thank God for my connections in the IT sector. I was only able to track it down thanks to them. As soon as my phone buzzed with the message telling me about her alt account, I ran into the bathroom at the office and locked myself in the first empty stall. I wiped the sweat off my hands and unlocked my phone.

With shaky thumbs, I made the payment and got access to her account. and what I saw made my head spin in fear. It was just the most bizarre collection of pictures. Animal skulls mounted on some sort of a greasy altar. Candles arranged around a strange chalk diagram on the floor of our basement. Grainy photos of rotting carcasses of dogs with their entrails ripped out and laid in a circle around them. Close-up pictures of accident victims in their cars. Limbs cut off, flesh burnt black, skin melting off, eyes crushed to a viscous jelly.

How the fuck were these photos up? How did she even get them? Why had the folks over at Onlyfans not deleted them? I could feel bile rise up in my throat as I scrolled past those pictures. And the comments to those pictures were just as confusing. Strange symbols and squiggly lines that I had never seen on a fucking keyboard made up the comments. All of them. Hundreds of comments. All in what seemed to be a completely new language. But what terrified me the most were the videos. A primal terror clutched at my chest as I watched those videos. Unlike the pictures, she starred in each and every single one of them, as did I. Some of them were innocent enough. They'd start with her holding the camera and pointing it at her face. She would bring it closer and closer to her mouth until her blood-red lips were almost

touching the lens, and then she'd start whispering. I plugged in my earphones and turned the volume up to the max to hear what she was saying, but it was utter nonsense. I couldn't make heads or tails out of it. It sounded like no language I had ever heard. yet scared the shit out of me. It was like she was running her tongue around inside my ears, threatening to condemn me to a fate worse than death. She would then walk and come stand over my sleeping form. The video would now speed up,

and she would stand over me for hours, for fucking hours as I tossed and turned, tormented by my nightmares. She would stand over me, pointing the camera down on my face. I took a second to calm my heartbeat, which thumped against my chest, my ears, and my temple before moving on.

Another video. This time the camera was set up on a tripod next to my bed. She was there again, hunched over my sleeping form. But this time she didn't just watch. She bent over, splayed my forearm out, and drove a little needle into it, quickly licking the drops of blood that bubbled out before turning and grinning at the camera. The greenish night vision making her eyes gleam. I gasped and almost dropped the phone.

There were so many of these videos, her injuring me, licking the blood. and then grinning at the camera, literally hundreds of them, all with the same script. And then I moved on to the most recent video. The screen flickered to life and our basement came into view. It didn't look anything like I was familiar with, lit up by candles that bathed the room in a dull orange glow. The entire basement had been turned into some sort of an altar, like the pictures I had earlier seen. Unclean cattle skulls were strewn across the room. The floor was slathered with squiggly chalk lines, set up. been strange symbols, tapestries with dizzying designs embroidered on them hung from the rafters,

and smoke arose from somewhere off screen. In the middle out of it all, though, was the love of my life. New, with her entire body soaked in blood, she was writhing on the floor, touching herself and moaning in a hoarse and guttural voice. Propped up on a small table in front of her was a framed picture of me with the eyes burnt off, probably with a cigarette. The fear that crashed into me brought tears to my eyes. She began rubbing herself faster and faster and faster and faster and faster until her hand was just a red blur on the screen. Sharp shadows danced on her face as she began speaking. Soon, she said. Soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon, soon. Her voice rose with each word until she was screaming in a manic frenzy, until the words reverberated

like gunshots in the basement, and then the video came to an abrupt end. I blinked. I blinked, I joined furiously to clear my rapidly fading vision, trying to maintain control of my body from the terror that threatened to shut it down. And then my phone buzzed again, and I almost had a heart attack when I saw the message. Hey, babe, when are you coming home tonight? Thanks for listening. This story was written by Bickram Man. He is a very talented horror writer.

If you'd like to read more of his stories, check out his newly released book, Unclean Spirits, available on Amazon. It's only $2.99 for Kindle users, or free if you'll be. have Kindle Unlimited. The link to his book is in the episode description. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-molyne for 15 minutes. We'd say that's the hour dojo. Pre-to-jew!

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