Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Wished For Two Perfect Girlfriends

Episode Date: November 25, 2022

🎧 Check out The SCP Experience podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3juM1og 🎉 Ad-free bonus stories + exclusive uncensored animations: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎥 YouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: John Beardify Check out more of his work Here: https://www.reddit.com/user/beardify/ New Book Release Here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09QJXLHF4 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 #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Something else here now. Something new. From exclusively on Paramount Plus. It's the series Stephen King calls Scary as Hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi vision calls it the best show streaming right now. We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules. Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch.

Saving those children is how we all go home. From binge all episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. next story, I'd like to say thank you to my new patrons, Jake, Gavin, not Newsom, and Diamond. If you'd like to support the podcast, head over to my Patreon page, where you will receive new exclusive scary stories every week for just $5 a month. Go to patreon.com slash DR No Sleep. The link is also in the description below. Now back to the story. One night, when he was drunker than usual, my father asked me why I was so damn sad all the time. I didn't have an answer for then. I still don't. Maybe something was twisted in me from the beginning. Maybe I was always destined

to be like this. Maybe I was just one of God's mistakes. It was hard to keep those dark thoughts away when I looked around at the strangers on the subway. I could tell that most of them had careers, dreams for the future, and people who loved them. I had a dead-end job, no friends since high school, and no hope that things were ever going to get any better. But the worst part was that during my 20 years of life, no one had ever once touched me with desire or affection. My reflection in the black glass of the Metro was a daily reminder of all the ways I'd failed.

Listening to depressing music on the Metro ride from my dead-end warehouse job to my empty basement apartment was as good as it got, as good as it was ever going to be. Or so I thought, until the homeless woman dropped a lighter into my lap. I suppose she'd been trying to place it beside me, as she'd done for the other commuters. I've got no home, no money, no family. For only 50 cents, can you buy one of these lighters and help me eat today?

Won't you help a poor old woman? She hobbled on a wooden stick, shaking her can of change and repeating her mantra as she walked. No one even looked at her. and I could see their point. The rattling of her can and her hoarse voice were grating, and besides, she was probably all going to spend it all on drugs later anyway. I didn't exactly want her to touch me with her dirty, broken fingernails, so I held the lighter out to her,

along with whatever change I had in my pocket. I'd grabbed it at random, but I blushed a little when I realized that I was only offering her four cents. When my coins disappeared into her can, She paused in front of me, leaning on her cane with a mad light in her intense hazel eyes. I fidgeted nervously and looked away. Couldn't she tell that I just wanted her to shut up and move on? You gave me something, the beggar said with surprise.

A snaglet-toothed smile crept across her face. Now I'll give you something in return. One wish. A reward in proportion to your generosity. The best way to deal with you. crazies on the metro I'd learned was not to engage with them. I kept my gaze fixed on some gum stuck to the filthy floor, but suddenly I felt those repulsive fingers squeezing my knee. Go on, the old woman insisted. Make a wish. The loudspeaker announced my stop,

trembling with disgust. I squirmed away from her and shuffled toward the battered subway doors with the rest of the crowd. When I looked back over my shoulder, she was still staring at me. Her face, a mask of disappointment. One wish, I thought. That's all. She's just a crazy old woman, and she wants to feel like she's granted your wish. What harm could it do? I figured I might as well ask for something impossible. How about just one girlfriend? I shouted as the doors closed. Wait, better yet? Make it too. The metro wagon sped away, and I saw the beggar woman with her head thrown back and her open mouth like a black pit as she laughed.

Although it was the middle of summer, a shiver ran up my spine. When I got back to my dingy apartment, the neighbors were fighting again. I'd long since given up trying to intervene. From what I'd seen, they deserved each other. All I wanted to do was to collapse into bed with a bag of chips, doom scroll mindlessly for a few hours,

and fall asleep. That was my plan, anyway, until I switched on a flickering light and saw the shape beneath my sheets. The beggar woman was my first terrified thought. It had to be. Somehow she'd beaten me home and broken into my apartment, where she was waiting in my bed like some sort of horrific mummy. The sheets rose and fell. Whatever was under there, it was breathing. With my right hand, I grabbed the baseball bat that I'd kept by my bedside ever since the meth heads down the hall, had started trying my lock at night. With my left, I threw back the covers. The completely nude girl

stretched and battered her eyelashes at me. Oh, hey, must have dozed off. To say she was beautiful would be an understatement. She was more like half of my fantasies all blended into one. She had the haircut of the emo girl I'd crushed on in high school, the smile of the friendly barista who I never had the guts to ask out, and, if I'm being honest, the body of my favorite porn star. She was perfect. But in that perfection, there was something more than a little unnerving. I dropped the bat. You okay? She cocked her head to one side, with concern in a way that made me want to melt into the floor like microwaved butter. Long day at work, huh? Don't worry. Owen is getting dinner started. That's when I smelled it.

Someone was putting my long-neglected oven to excellent use. You didn't have much in the kitchen, the girl wrinkled her nose. But you'd be amazed what Owen can do with just some old potatoes and Cajun seasoning. Who? Who are you? I finally stammered. And then for the first time, I was being hugged with real affection. I'm your girlfriend, silly. She whispered into my ear.

Then kissed it. I'm Tu-O. I felt the warmth of her naked skin through my filthy wore clothes. A shadow fell across the doorway. Oh, is Tuo up? A female asked. Dinner's ready. If Tuo was half my fantasies made flesh,

Owen was the other half. Two and one. One and two. I remembered what I'd said to the beggar in the metro and felt goosebumps break out of my arms. Tuo must have noticed my reaction because she began massaging my shoulders from behind. She was good at it too.

Her hands were strong, surprisingly so. She probably could have snapped my neck if she'd really wanted to. Let's go, she nuzzled against me. We can't let your food get cold. You're going to need a lot of energy for what we've got planned for you later. The contrast between the two beautiful girls and my filthy bachelor apartment made me wonder if I was going crazy.

Still, someone had cooked the piping hot, perfectly seasoned roasted potatoes that I was shoveling into my mouth. The glass of water that Owen had brought me hadn't just teleported to the table. This was actually happening. I was terrified of speaking, afraid that if I did, it would break the spell and I'd wake up in my unmade bed alone.

But I had to know. Are you two real? I finally asked. Owen and Tuo exchanged a glance, then laughed. We're more real than real. I ignored the implications of what that might mean. Just as I ignored how the girls sat as still as dolls until I spoke to them, their sultry eyes unblinking.

When I'd finished my meal, they both sprung to their feet at once. While Tua washed my plate, Owen grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom. The next few days passed in a blur. When I wasn't sleeping with Owen and Tuo, I was fantasizing about it, at work, in line at the supermarket, on the dingy metro ride home. I was like a kid who'd never eaten sugar,

turned loose in a candy store, the smoothness of their skin in the dark, the feeling of my own unsure fingers gripping Tuo's long silky hair, or Owen's short, choppy pixie cut. It was all I could think about. I whistled on my way to work and tap danced through the day, knowing what awaited me at home. The metro ride began to feel eternal. I passed the endless minutes daydreaming about the disbelieving faces of my former bullies. Those insecure assholes had probably had their first time in the

backseat of a car, finished in 30 seconds, and felt bad about it. They were probably stuck in loveless relationships with trashy girls who used them. Meanwhile, I got to share my home and my bed with Owen and Tuo. My girls, my reward, exactly what I deserved after a life that had been mostly miserable, unlucky and pathetic. Their desires were my desires, and they only had eyes for me. For weeks, I did nothing but go to work, go home, and enjoy the company of my two beautiful, obedient, more real than real girlfriends.

Then one night I woke up at some ungodly hour, with two pairs of eyes glowing in the dark. It was Owen and Tuo. They had been watching me while I slept. I pretended not to notice, but as I slipped away to the bathroom, my mouth was bone dry, and my heart was thundering in my chest.

In the pitch-black bedroom, both of my girlfriends were making a throaty, reverberating sound that was somewhere between purring, growling, and laughter. Both pairs of glowing eyes seemed to sneer at me as I staggered back to bed. I was too keyed up to fall back asleep, and the creeping sensation on my skin let me know that they hadn't stopped staring, not even for a moment. Instacart knows that some people go bananas about getting the perfect, well, banana.

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Via Rae, the voice that we love. The questions that I received when I came back to my apartment from work, or the grocery store, or even just from reading in the park, had seemed cute at first. Now they gave me goosebumps. Where were you, babe? You shouldn't take so long to get home. Don't you know how much we miss you?

What could you possibly have to do that's more important than us? I realized that I was beginning to fear the girls. maybe even hate them a little bit. The sound of their bare feet tiptoeing across the tile floor. The lifeless stare of their glassy, doll-like eyes. I had always been a shut-in, but I started making excuses to avoid going home. I dreaded the sight of those impossibly perfect beings,

waiting patiently on the other side of my apartment door. I wrote letters to people I hadn't seen in years when I rode the metro, just so that I'd be forced to mail them. For the first time, I joined my coworkers at the dive bar where they met after work. I went to the library, the movie theater, the gym. I walked in aimless circles until my feet dragged across the pavement and my eyes refused to stay open. Owen and Tuo, it seemed, could tell that something was wrong, and their attempts to keep me

with them became ever more desperate and unsettling. The moment I walked in the door, Owen would take my jacket like a servant, and two Tuo would kiss my feet like a slave. The apartment would be spotless, with my favorite meal waiting on the table. Owen and Tua would press themselves against me. But their skin felt cold. How hadn't I noticed it before? The chalky, dead taste of their tongues, the unnatural sharpness of their nails and teeth,

the way the fingers that caressed my back seemed far too long, almost as if they had an extra joint. I couldn't pinpoint the specific moment that Owen and Tuo's pleading turned to threats. Soon the way they pulled me toward the table, the couch, or the bed was no longer pouty and cute. It hurt. If I tried to stand up without their permission, those two long fingers would creep across my thigh. And even though I'd started going to the gym, even though neither of them could have weighed more than 120 pounds, their cold hands were inescapable. Things came to a boiling point one evening when Owen snuck up behind me to run her fingers through my hair while I was playing video games. I jumped at the sudden touch.

Leave me alone! I roared, practically throwing the controller. The girls scattered like scared kittens. But when I'd pulled on my shoes, ready to storm angrily out the door, they were blocking my path. Get out of my way! I commanded. No! Owen and Tuo replied at once.

There was a tiny, enigmatic smile on each of their perfect faces. We were created for you, a gift proportionate to your generosity. We exist only for you to satisfy your every desire. And that's what we're going to do, whether you like it or not. Look, just get out of here, the both of you. I could feel myself shaking. I couldn't believe I was doing this. This was great at first.

But now, it's just a lot. not working. So why don't you... With the strength of a professional wrestler, Owen tore me out of my gaming chair and pinned me against the wall with those many jointed fingers. She licked my neck with her cold, slimy tongue. Do you think we have a choice? You think we want to be trapped in here to be your slaves? Do you have any idea of the agony that she makes us feel when you're unsatisfied? Non-existence would be better than existing with you. Owen's voice had changed. Instead of sickly sweet. It was gravelly, deep, and distorted. It sounded like an animal trying to initiate human speech.

So eat up, babe. Owen grabbed a fistful of food from the plate on the table. We made your favorite. Chicken tenders with honey mustard. Mmm, mm, open wide. She pinched my nose shut to force my mouth open. When I resisted, she smeared the cold meat around my face and crammed it into my mouth. Meanwhile, Tuo pulled down my pants and got to business. This is what you wanted, right? Owen hissed to my ears, I choked. Two perfect girls, whose whole existence revolved around you? Well, now you've got it, babe.

Now you've got it. I came back to consciousness slumped against the wall. My face and chest were sticky with sauce, and purple-finger-shaped bruises had begun to appear on my wrists and neck. Tuo softly sang one of my favorite songs with perfect. pitch as she cleaned up the mess of my broken gaming chair. I felt Owen's cold hand slide underneath my armpits and begin to drag me down the hall toward the bathroom. Awake now, are we, babe? Owen asked, Chipperly, as though she hadn't nearly killed me only minutes before. Then let's get you

cleaned up. I ran for the door. Owen and Tuo's hysterical laughter followed me as I staggered down the hallway, filthy, pantsless, and disoriented by terror. And that was how she found me a few hours later, swaying down the sidewalk like a homeless drunk. The only thing that snapped me out of my days was the tapping of her wooden cane and the jangling of her coin-filled tin. The beggar woman from the metro. You! I nearly spat. I've got no home, no money, no family. For only 50 cents you can buy. one of these lighters and help me eat today.

Won't you help a poor old woman? Her words, so pathetic before, now sounded cruel and mocking. She recognized me. I was sure of it. I gave you four coins. You gave me a wish. I stammered. A wish proportional to your generosity. She corrected me through empty gums. What? What kind of generosity would I need to show to undo that wish?

Oh, that's easy. She waved a gnarled hand. All of it. All of it? I wondered. Everything you have. Money, phone, the apartment, and everything in it. All of it.

I guess that includes my soul and my firstborn, too, right? I asked, sarcastically, sickened by the thought of losing the little life I'd built, the one I'd undervalued for so long. The beggar woman didn't answer. She just raised an eyebrow. What do you think? She sneered.

I thought I'd had it rough before, but I'd had no idea. I'd had no idea of what having nothing was truly like. After the first night of sleeping under sheets of cardboard among some bushes in the park, my muscles ached from shivering. I spent as much time as possible in the library, sending out one job application after another and taking advantage of the free heat and bathrooms.

It wasn't long before the fluorescent hum, the glow of the monitor, and sheer boredom threatened to shred whatever sanity I still had left. Even after I'd spent the peak commuting hours begging for money, gone dumpster diving for food, and scouted out a place to sleep, there were still so many hours left in the day. Hours left to sit with my thoughts and the stink of my own grimy, unwashed body. A sandwich shop clerk who gave me a free meal at the end of that first exhausting, week, gave me a warning along with my footlong. If you weren't already crazy when you started living on the street, by the end of it, you will be. Get out as soon as you can. I'll never forget the Indian exchange student who saw me panhandling outside a pizza parlor and got me access to his

gym with a guest invitation. While I was using the machines and stretching, just like everyone else, as if I didn't sleep under cardboard in the park. I felt like I could breathe for the first time since I'd become homeless. The hot shower felt like the most profound that life had to offer. On my way out the door, the receptionist stopped me. Now that I was homeless, I felt guilty just for existing in a space sometimes, so I thought that I must be in some kind of trouble, until the receptionist handed me a plastic card. The Indian grad student had bought me a full year membership. Before I'd lost everything, I was focused on my problems,

on what was wrong with me. On the streets, however, my focus shifted. What mattered was reading the gourmet pizza chain's garbage cans without getting caught. What mattered was keeping needles out of the arms of people I'd just met, but come to care about. And many of those people were women. Not some two-dimensional fantasy or some reward that I felt I was entitled to. Not a prize to be won or a symbol of success, but real breathing people with problems like mine.

Slowly, I learned to forget the horror I'd left behind in my basement apartment, and the person I was when I'd wished for it. It took eight months and a lot of help for me to get back into a place I could call my own, with work that paid the bills and food on the table. A place with no grinning doll-like faces waiting on the other side of the door. A place where no nude shadows crept along the walls. A place where no one was bound or beholden to anyone else. As far as I'm concerned, it's a reward.

Proportional to my generosity.