We Weren't Allowed To Talk To Women | Creep Cast

Charlie Sheen is an icon of decadence.

I lit the fuse and my life turns into everything it wasn't supposed to be.

He's going the distance.

He was the highest paid TV star of all time.

When it started to change, it was quick.

He kept saying, no, no, no, I'm in the hospital now, but next week I'll be ready for the show.

Now, Charlie's sober.

He's going to tell you the truth.

How do I present this with any class?

I think we're past that, Charlie.

We're past that, yeah.

Somebody call action.

Aka Charlie Sheen, only on Netflix, September 10th.

If you can't get enough of Hunter and I telling each other scary stories for some reason, then I'm excited to announce there's a new way for you to get extra content.

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Thank you all for the love and please enjoy the episode, as I certainly did a little too much.

Welcome back to Creepcast.

Today we are going to do something that

sounds something that's very familiar to us, Isaiah, which is the story is called We Weren't Allowed to Talk to Women.

That is the, and I will say right off the bat, there is a not safe for work tag on this.

So don't know what that's about, but super optimistic.

Great.

This is, this is a, you know, obvious, well, compared to anything else, I'll say this one's obviously much shorter than last week's episode, which was Mother Horse Eyes.

11 hours.

What makes you say that?

Yeah.

Yeah.

So just 11 hours.

So we are kind of just giving ourselves a bit of a bit of rest and recoup with this.

But also the title's fun.

And also, we wanted to plug that we do have a Patreon and that we are reading.

On the Patreon, we are reading a story called Blackout.

uh that will be available this week as well but if you are interested in supporting that and some of the other kind of things we have going on behind the scenes feel free to check it out patreon slash creepcast if you'd like extra content if you want more of our disgusting smiles and faces isaiah just smile off your camera for a little bit

uh we've got a bunch of

like ideas for what we're going to do over on the patreon to clarify nothing's changing on the youtube slash audio platform uploads still doing one a week nothing changes there just if you want some bonus content and also want to show some support for some ideas hunter and i have in the future that require a little bit of an investment uh you can you can kill two birds with one stone by joining over there and thank you so much to everyone that's already joined the support even not having like a formal formal video announcement yet it's been very cool to see so thank you guys very much for that it means a lot yeah no we appreciate the support and also too just like a little stuff like posts and polls of like what you want us to read submissions that kind of stuff uh and i'm sure we'll kind of knock out the kinks as well but we got some fun stuff there but also be sure to check us out on spotify and apple podcast if you're an audio listener right now if you're listening on on youtube maybe consider checking us out on spotify it helps us out absolutely otherwise than that let's get into our life blog hold on hold on hold on hold on hold on i have to i have to make i have to make a the joke real quick because there wasn't a chance to say it this title applies to both of us because i grew up you know very like christian very like you know be behave around women kind of thing and you were told this because they had restraining orders on you

That, you know, that was a hysterical joke.

Well, I had it in my head and it had to come out at some point.

So

it was going to be more natural, but because you wouldn't let me speak,

I had to put it out there somehow.

Isaiah, to yourself, read the second line of the second paragraph.

A long winding lineage marked with rape and slavery.

Okay.

Okay.

Well, I said read it to yourself.

Well, that's awesome.

Thank you for choosing this.

I did not choose.

I did not choose today's episode.

I did not pick this.

Hunter's like, hey, I've got a story for us to read.

And the first thing I see related to the story is that.

So that's it.

I chortled to myself, we weren't allowed to talk to women.

I said,

so I said, I said, oh, that's silly.

I said, all right.

And then he read it.

And then he read it and he got to that sentence I just read.

And he's like, the story's about me.

Okay.

This is all about me.

I can't talk to women and those things.

That's me.

Okay.

We have got to edit that out.

That's that's no, we're not.

We

We are absolutely editing that out.

Of all the things I have said on the show, that is not even top five.

Top 10.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

And I'm the one who said it, not you.

I said it about you.

About me, I know.

That's why it's even worse.

All right.

You had nothing to do with that.

Okay, whatever.

That we weren't allowed to talk to women a Hunter Hancock special that Windagoon had nothing to do with.

Written by Solop.

Solops.

A Hunter Hancock special that I had nothing nothing to do with.

I was born into one of those old families of the South.

The kind that has long silenced, toppled, and decayed, attempting desperately to hold itself together.

Oh, wait, we didn't.

We didn't even say.

I feel bad.

We didn't even say anything about the author.

I did.

I said

you got me all messed up.

I said written by Solace.

I said written by Solace, and you kept favoring.

Yeah,

special.

That's all you did.

I fucking shot me.

You put me in a defensive position.

Put me in a defensive position with this.

You put yourself in your own position.

I didn't put you in that now.

You put me in positions all the time.

Let's get that straight.

Okay.

So

the website is

no longer up, but they had their own website.

They haven't posted on Reddit in three years.

But in their bio, it says that they're an aspiring author.

It says I recently cleared out this account of post and comments to keep it solely focused on my writing post.

My subreddit r slash solace is where I cross-post my works and helpful links.

So we'll leave that in the description.

I also have a coffee you can check out, or Ko-Fi, however you pronounce that.

So Solis wrote it.

The story has 11,000 upvotes on R slash No Sleep, which is pretty solid.

So yeah, be sure to check them out.

We'll leave them linked in the description.

Show support for the author as always.

And now, and now that that's out of the way, now that Hunter's got me

knocked off my game and flustered, we can continue.

I was born into one of those old families of the South, the kind that has long silenced, toppled, and decayed, attempting desperately to hold itself together.

We'd had money, once, as evidenced by the grand old buildings that set on our property, but the old barns and guest houses sat empty and abandoned, choked with cobwebs and weeds and Spanish moss.

The forest had begun to reclaim the property.

My family was like many others of its kind.

a long, winding lineage marked with rape and slavery and pain.

But one thing set us apart.

there were no women in my family.

I had no mother, no sisters or grandmothers.

Every member of my family was male.

Now, Isaiah,

do you think that we're going into egg territory?

You'd like that, wouldn't you?

Some men laying eggs.

Man, kind of.

Oh,

little

dinosaur men running around the south.

For one, that's what we are.

Thank you.

My wife is a front to keep appearances up.

But I think the idea is it's going to be some kind of ritual brings the guys forward or something like that.

Given the title, we weren't allowed to talk to women.

Better they kill women after they, you know, get their or it is marked not safe for work, and this is a story you picked.

So, or

dinosaur men.

I don't think dinosaur menu is a menu.

Why can we never get into a horror story?

Do you think that you could never get into a dinosaur human tour?

Hold on.

We absolutely had a dinosaur horror story and you hated it.

What was that one?

The Gregory 88, the Twitter ARG.

That wasn't dinosaurs, those are just big eggs.

No, no, it turns out to be eggs, and you see an image of them, and it's like a skull dinosaur face thing running around.

And you were mad.

I don't remember that.

Well, it must have done it.

I'm saying that if we had something where they said

blatantly, they were dinosaur humanoids.

Do you think you couldn't do that?

Wait, wait, wait.

Do you not remember that one?

The pigeons around here aren't real or whatever, where like people are being grown in eggs.

It's not about the eggs, Isaiah.

I'm saying that if it was dinosaur-humanoids, that's what I'm saying.

And it's blatantly that.

I'm saying, like, Velociraptor stuff.

And I'm asking you a question.

And the question I'm asking is: could you successfully do that, or would it be too cheesy that no one would take it seriously?

I don't think you can have

a legitimate threat in a story that you are like dinosaur-human hybrids, but you could play into that and get like some Jurassic Park-esque moments, I guess, that could be effective.

That's unfortunate.

I think you have to lean into it, though.

I don't think dinosaur-humanoids can be taken seriously.

That's sad.

I wonder if there's ever a way.

I mean, I mean, maybe if it's like a future story or an alien story or something like that, but I feel like when you jump the shark that much, you have to lean into it.

I feel like there's some premises that are so

outlandish that they don't lend themselves to reality.

Now, that doesn't mean you can't have creepy moments and stuff, but the overall tone of the story, I think, can't sit well in a serious note if the idea of it is so far-fetched.

Yeah,

all right.

Well,

I'm trying to think if there's any

I'm sure one will come to mind, but like, I mean, there's stuff with like aliens, like Alien, the movie Alien with the Xenomorph, like that has scary moments.

Yeah, but it's not like a dinosaur.

Maybe if you're setting, it's It's not a dinosaur, exactly.

It's not a human-dinosaur hybrid.

So

yeah.

I don't know.

I can't think of anything to counter that statement, so I'll stick by it for now.

My five brothers and I never thought it strange, though.

We were uneducated and mostly separated from the outside world.

Our days were spent laboring on the decaying property, all of our efforts inevitably useless.

When we weren't plucking weeds or clearing out the decades of trash from the various buildings, we played.

The quasi-wilderness of our home was a perfect stage for our games.

My father was a kind man, but strict.

Our self-contained life came with a strange set of rules.

There was a chapel on the property, a small light thing half hidden in the woods.

It was in better condition than anything else due to my father's doting care.

We were not allowed inside the chapel without him.

However, a padlock on the door prevented us from sneaking in.

We were, on occasion, allowed to go to town.

It was a half-hour walk through the woods to get there, and excursions were highly anticipated.

There were conditions, though.

We had to stick together and we weren't allowed to talk to women.

We could talk to men and other boys, but my father strictly forbade us from talking to women, girls, even old maids.

He instructed us to say hello and good day and yes, ma'am, and thank you, ma'am, like good little southern boys, but other than that, not a word.

This was weird, of course, but everyone in town seemed to abide by these rules as well.

The women would give us curt curt nods and avoid us otherwise.

It was so ingrained into our daily lives that none of us ever questioned it.

Do you remember there was this documentary that came out a while back?

I think it was called the Wolf Pack.

Pretty sure that's the name of it.

It was about a group of boys who their father never let them leave their room.

And like their mother was out of the picture.

I forget why.

But it was like seven brothers or five brothers who all lived in an apartment building in New York.

And I guess they were homeschooled or didn't go to school or something.

And once a year, their father would like take them across the street to get ice cream.

But other than that, they never left the apartment.

But all they did was watch movies every day.

Like that was their only interaction with the outside world.

So all of them talked and behaved like they were movie characters.

Like these dramatic over-the-top things.

Like they would all, they would all, they were all like caricature cameo types of like

trickster guy.

Yeah, hold on.

Let me find you.

You said this is a documentary?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I think it's called Wolf Pack.

Hold on.

So there's a guy who acts like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and there's a guy who acts like Danny Zuko from Greece and stuff.

Well, I distinctly remember all of them dressed like Reservoir Dogs characters.

They all love Reservoir Dogs.

So they all have like nicknames for each other and wear suits.

Mr.

Mr.

Blue, Mr.

Brown, all that kind of stuff.

Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

So the Wolf Pack is a 2015, man, I thought this was older, 2015, is a 2015 American documentary.

It's about the Angulo family who homeschooled and raised their seven children, six boys and one girl, in the confinement of their apartment in Lower Eastside, Manhattan.

Yeah.

So it's like they all just watch movies all the time and that's their interaction.

So like the documentary, if I remember right, it follows them like going out to the real world, quote unquote, like, you know,

they learn about the outside world by watching films, eventually began to reenact scenes from their favorite movies using elaborate homemade props and costumes.

Their father, Oscar, had the only key to the door of their 16-story four-bedroom apartment.

He prohibited the children or their mother, Suzanne, who homeschooled the children.

Oh, the mother was in the picture.

Okay, I'm misremembering parts.

Except for a few strictly monitored trips on the nefarious streets of New York.

Everything changed when the 15-year-old

Mukunda decided to walk around the neighborhood in 2010 against Oscar's instruction.

So a lot of the movies about them like experiencing the real world and seeing that it's a lot more boring than movies make it out to be.

Like every interaction they have with people, they expect to be some big dramatic thing, but it's not.

And they're kind of sad about it, if I remember right.

Yeah, it's a very, very strange movie.

But anyway, that combined with like this just being a group of boys going out, not allowed to talk to women, reminded me of that.

Okay.

I can see the connection.

Also, I'm very interested.

Sorry, I was reading as well.

I am interested in watching this.

I hope that one of them is like deeply entrenched into like everyone's like Quentin Tarantino movies, and then there's one guy who's like, just like mean girls.

I love or like Rob Schneider movies, and that's it.

He's actually Deuce Bigelow, Male Gigelow.

I love Nicholas Sparks.

That's all I can.

Can't get enough of it.

Now,

this video seems, this documentary seems 100% like something you'd cover in a Pop-a-meat video.

I like that.

It wasn't going to work forever, of course.

My oldest brother, Jamie, started making eyes at the pretty girl who worked at the drugstore ice cream counter.

She made eyes back.

Soon, he was sneaking off to be with her during our visits.

He would leave my brothers and I at the drugstore at the park, buying our silence with penny candy and ice cream.

Jamie's little trist didn't last long, though.

Laszlo, the second youngest, had always been loose-lipped.

One day when we came back from town, our father asked us what we did.

Jamie snuck off,

Laszlo blurted.

He always goes and sneaks off to see that ice cream girl.

Pa's face grew very pale.

He turned to Jamie and seized him by the shoulders.

Is that true?

He asked in a voice that was much too quiet.

You're seeing a girl.

A tense silence hung over us.

Jamie opened his mouth, closed it.

Jamie, come join me on my porch, Pa said icily.

My father never hit us.

I want to make that clear.

But when he was truly angry or upset, he had a way of talking that cut you to the bone.

It made you feel like absolute dog shit.

When I was really little, got in trouble.

I would hide and cry for hours afterwards, consumed by guilt.

Jamie and Pa went onto the porch.

The rest of us dispersed throughout the house.

The happy mood of the day soured.

For a couple weeks afterwards, we beat on Laszlo especially hard and gave him the worst roles in our games.

After that, he mostly kept his mouth shut.

Jamie returned with a pale face.

He didn't talk to any of us until the morning, where he tried to act like nothing had happened.

I caught him alone that day.

I tucked on his sleeve and asked him, What did Paul say to you the other night?

Jamie looked down at me.

His face suddenly seemed very old.

He gave me a weak smile and tossled my hair.

Not your business.

Don't worry about it.

I wasn't in the habit of displeasing my older brother, so I went along with my life.

Next time we went to town, the ice cream girl batted her eyes at Jamie, but he stared straight away from her.

She frowned sadly.

She wasn't as nice to us after that.

There isn't much else to say of my childhood.

It was unique, surely, but we had always lived our lives that way, and I was not questioning the type.

Our existence continued rather uneventfully for years.

My brother and I cleaned old houses that would never be occupied, and weeded yards that would never be used.

Forest grew in faster than we could pluck.

Then came the day when Jamie turned 18.

Birthdays were frequent in a family of seven, but turning 18, that was special, according to Pa.

On the special day, Pa got us all up early and scrubbed our faces with a spit wet cloth.

He made us put on our best clothes, moth-eaten from disuse.

He gave Jamie one of his old suits, and it hung baggy on his thin frame.

Then we gathered in the chapel.

Inside, the air was still and silent.

I remember feeling disappointed.

Hunter, I have terrible news.

What?

So I was recording this whole time, but I accidentally had display capture open.

So I was not recording

my camera until this moment.

You're going to be in blackness then, my friend.

Just like when my camera went out.

Yeah, but whatever image you use of me, I just ask that it's not the kind of I ask the editor that it's not the kind of image Hunter would want to use of me.

It'll be funny.

Whatever that be.

Okay.

All right.

Whatever.

Well, there's nothing I can do.

It's my fault, I guess.

Okay.

Anyway.

Hi, everyone.

First time for the video.

Okay.

I remember feeling disappointed at the sight of the perfectly normal interior.

I always expected there to be some great, terrible secret that my father was guarding.

But it was just an old chapel.

We sat in the front pew, all in a row.

Paul and Jamie hung back at the door.

They exchanged some quiet words and then began to walk.

They marched arm in arm, staring stiffly ahead.

They stepped in time to some silent rhythm.

Slowly they made their way up the aisle.

My father bent behind the pulpit.

The sound of creaking wood broke the terse silence.

He had opened a trapdoor.

Pa and Jamie, still arm in arm, descended into the door.

Downstairs we couldn't see from our angle.

My brothers and I sat uncomfortably in the pew, restless but quiet.

I felt a strange swelling sensation, like something enormous was happening that I couldn't comprehend.

I channeled this by plucking wildly at the loose threads of my ill-fitting pants.

My brothers and I sat nervously for a while until Pa emerged again, alone.

Shut the trap door behind him.

Time to go home, boys.

I wanted to ask where Jamie was, but my tongue felt heavy.

Instead, I fell into step behind him, and we made a solemn procession back to the rotting mansion where we lived.

Jesus, they didn't even take him, they didn't even take Jamie back with them.

They left him.

Yeah, they just left.

On the fucking trap door.

Opened the fucking trap door, and he's like, all right, we're back home, boys.

That would kind of fuck you.

Get in there.

I mean, that's freaky.

It's the building that their entire life has been hyped up, but they can never go in.

And then they go in, your oldest brother goes down the stairs, and then, all right, that's it.

And only father's door.

Only your fucking snaggle-tooth dad comes back out.

That would bum me out.

That's a bit of a bummer.

Seeing your brother lost in the derelict chapel?

Yeah, that's kind of sad.

Oh, I'm so depressing.

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Jamie was there the next morning, snoring in his bed next to mine.

We all scrutinized him for some change, but he was the same Jamie had always been.

The only answer to our questions we received was a hard sock in the arm when we bothered him too much.

A few months later, Pa came into our room in the middle of the night.

I'd been lying awake, but I pretended to sleep as he quietly roused Jamie.

led him out the door.

I dozed very lightly, only to be reawoken when I heard them coming back up the stairs.

Jamie made his way to his bed slowly.

In the faint moonlight, I could see that his shoulders were shaking.

Crawled under the covers, I could hear the muffled sound of him sobbing.

Good God.

Uh-oh.

I'm like wondering: do you think it's going to be something where it's like you can't talk to other women because maybe this entity or something will get jealous?

It could even be like a motherly.

It could be what I mean.

Yeah, it could be.

It could also be like

maybe,

maybe they're not actually a family.

Maybe it's like like the dad has these boys

captured or kidnapped or they're part of some order or something.

Yeah, but they could very well not be his.

Yeah,

and they just think they are.

And when they turn 18, they're, yeah, I don't know, part of some ritual, forced to be a part of something.

But I do think it involves female figures, like a wife entity or a mother entity.

Mother seems more right because it's like a family dynamic.

So yeah.

Or it could just be a human trafficking operation.

That would be swell.

That'd be very fun and happy.

I also thought it was weird that despite there being seven of them, right?

They all live in the same

room, you know?

Like, it's a mansion, but they all sleep in one place.

That's kind of odd, right?

Yeah, I mean, kind of.

I mean, even like old southern houses, they were built to have like multiple generations of families live in them.

That's true.

So

whatever I'm thinking here is he's prepping his sons for probably what the dad had to do when he was younger as well.

I'm just wondering what that entity.

I keep saying saying entity.

It could be nothing down there, but or not nothing, but I mean, it might not even be something supernatural.

Exactly.

Yeah.

Yep.

I'm tracking.

After that, Jamie was different.

He was withdrawn and angry.

He stopped playing with us and was quick to yell.

There's an angry tension between him and Pa.

Even as young as I was, I knew the change had something to do with that strange place in the chapel.

I wouldn't have to wait long to find out the secret of our family.

After all, I was the second oldest.

My birthday came that November.

I remember every second of that day.

Paul woke me before my brothers.

This is also a fun dynamic where we see all the things that happened to Jamie, and now it's like, okay, now our narrator is going to go through it, whatever it was.

Kind of even more torturous if you think about it.

You see your older brother go through something.

You see your brother go through all that stuff, right?

And you know that you're like, okay, well, that happened on Zat's birthday.

That's going to happen to me this November.

That would be a bit torturous.

Paul woke me before my brothers.

He brought me into the master's suite where he spent the nights of his lonely existence.

The room might have once been grand, but now the walls were ashy with cigarette smoke and it smelled like stale living.

The bedsheets were rumpled on only one side.

It made me sad to think of Pa sleeping alone every night in that huge, moth-eaten bed.

Pa dressed me in the same suit that Jamie had worn.

Fit me a little better.

This feels very...

Not Nightmare Before Christmas.

What's the one where they're all dead?

The corpse's bride.

This feels very corpse's bride, like all them in like the rot, the underground area, stuff like that.

It's almost like they're all dead.

It fit me a little better.

I was fuller and shorter than he was.

I looked in the mirror and felt a flash of pride.

I was a proper gentleman for once, like those clean-cut men in the old magazines we sometimes found while cleaning, no longer a dirty-faced little boy.

Pa stepped back after fixing my tie, his eyes shining.

Harsh line of his mouth wobbled as he rubbed his thumb across my cheekbone.

I'm so proud of you, he said and hugged me.

My chest swelled with warmth and pride.

We walked through the woods to the little white chapel.

It was cool.

The woods were alive in red and orange.

My brothers gathered in the pews while Pa and I waited outside the doors.

He looped his arm through mine and looked at me.

Just follow my lead, he murmured, patting my arm.

His words soothed me.

The doors of the chapel swung open at their own, and the sound of the church bells echoed through the woods.

Though the rusty bell in the tower sat still,

but I wasn't afraid.

So you can hear the church bells, but they're not from, it doesn't, or it seems supernatural, it's not coming from the actual bell on top of the church.

Okay.

Pa walks me down the aisle towards the empty pulpit.

We walked in time to the toll of the bells.

Something I realized only the two of us could hear.

Oh.

God.

The brothers whispered and fidgeted in the pew.

Jamie sat on the far end, staring straight ahead, his eyes dull, back stiff.

We ascended.

Beyond the pulpit lay the secret trap door, ancient, moldered.

Pa gave the rusted brass ring a mighty pull, and it opened with a creak.

Before us lay a stone staircase, riddled with cracks and dappled with moss and mushrooms.

Shallow stairs led into the dark.

For the first time that day, I felt something other than anticipation and pride.

I was afraid.

But I think, looking back, that I would have been unable to leave if I tried.

Pa and I walked carefully down the stairs.

He still held tight to my arm.

We emerged into an earthen tunnel, tall enough for us to walk upright, though roots from the ceiling brushed our heads.

For a moment, we stood still.

There was a strange sputtering sound, and a breeze blew from the darkness ahead.

That should have been impossible, as the tunnel seemed to only go deeper into the ground.

But as the breeze came, so did light.

Alcoves have been scooped into the earthen walls, and tens of candles suddenly burst to life in their wax-filled recesses.

I jumped as the sudden light revealed hundreds of moths.

They took off, excited by the flame.

Their soft wings flapped and brushed against my cheek.

As Pa and I walked down the tunnel, my apprehension grew.

It started shaking.

Pa stood resolute by my side, his presence steadying.

I don't know how long we walked in silence.

The tunnel was not without its own sound.

The pop of fat from the candles, the drip of moisture from the ceiling, the tamping of our shoes and the fluttering of moth wings.

They landed on my shoulders and my head, bounced off of my face often.

I wanted to ask Pa where we were going, but again, I stayed silent.

Soon, I became aware of a faint, sweet smell.

Almost at the same time, the candlelight revealed a door.

Moths were clustered around it so thickly that it appeared the frame was made of a canvas of pale, shivering wings.

Pa turned to me, the flickering candlelight, the hollows of his face were cast in sharp relief.

He looked more like an ape than a man.

This is where I leave you, son, he said, with his arms on my shoulders.

Don't be afraid.

You won't be hurt, I promise.

Just do what nature tells you to do.

Oh no,

hunter.

This, uh, so then he so he leaves, he's gonna leave him here, and that's what happened on Jamie's birthday as well.

But I'm wondering, yeah, nature.

I know, yeah, it's gonna be might be

uh, yeah,

in the jungle, the moth of the jungle.

A wee mob, a ween bob.

It's kind of, I really loved all the descriptive stuff of like the moth wings pattering, the like drop.

I just imagine like little droplet sounds, you know, like the moisture dropping from this tunnel.

And even just like the fire, like the wick burning and dancing.

It's so quiet in the in the tunnel that you, it, I just, that description was really nice.

It really put me, like, sunk me in, like, wrapped me like a blanket.

It was really good.

The writing's great.

Like, the quality of writing, measured tones and stuff, awesome.

Nature, though.

And what's really funny is as soon as you hear nature in that context, the first thing you go to is in the jungle.

So I can only imagine that that is what plays in your head whenever you are letting nature take out.

He saw that I was shaking, and he let his hand on my face.

This is our family's legacy, Eli.

Jamie did this.

I did this.

My father before me did this.

It's as old and ancient as our blood.

Older, even.

Nothing's going to harm you, okay?

I choked out.

My father smiled wainly and turned and left me before the door.

He disappeared back the way we came, and I was alone.

Cautiously, I pushed open the stone door.

The moss fluttered away from it, forming a cloud that I had to bat away to see.

The chamber that I emerged into was huge.

The walls were lined with hundreds of alcoves with candles burning bright.

More candles were spread across the floor.

Across from me, There was a great white bed, oh no,

surrounded by gossamer curtains.

the sweet smell was overpowering undercut by something primal and funky like body odor dirty pussy then

the bed moved from its side unfolded pairs of strange appendages i struggled to comprehend what i was seeing they were arms human arms ending in human hands

but they bent in too many places and they were too long and pale

long tendrils like feathers flared from their elbows

it wasn't a bed oh shit it was a person

perhaps in the loosest sense of the word its body was huge white and bloated oh fuck what i thought were pillows were actually huge pendulous breasts oh yeah pair of nipples god damn the swell the swell of the bed's comforter was a huge stomach sagging down to the ground in ripples of white flesh oh damn.

Dude, imagine your dad drops you off in the first bit of pussy again.

Your life is this giant-like,

fluffy pillow fuck monster.

Do you think that's a wait?

So, wait, so he's like, Hey, I had to do it, Paul had to do it,

grandpa Benji had to do it.

You know what's funny?

You know what's funny about this?

Last week was my episode.

It was

my episode.

Yeah, yeah.

It was ridiculously long.

It was about the CIA and God and giants and all that stuff.

Went on for 11 hours, like up my alley.

This one is an hour and a half probably.

It's a sweet.

Short hits about

a giant bed woman that these guys are forced to pair with.

And like, hey, but seriously, don't talk to no broads when you're out and about.

Hey, you're going to upset the pillow woman.

You get to do a funny accent.

I love it.

This is definitely my kind of episode.

This is your kind of episode.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Oh.

One for them, one for me, kind of thing.

Also, like a body horror monster.

Like, even the way that he described her arms so far, disjointed.

Like,

I'm imagining like multiple jointed arms.

Like, it's like bending and all kinds of weird shit.

At first, I thought it was like spider legs or something

is how I kind of pictured the arms at first.

You know what I mean?

Like the bed itself is a whole person.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

This sounds like something you would make for one of your

like a Margaret kind of thing, like one of your Papa Meat house creatures, right?

It's an entire bed, but the bed is a thing, like a person.

Yeah.

As I watched, a pair of the arms reached to gently part gossamer curtains like a bride lifting a veil.

Its face.

How to describe its face?

Once, cleaning trash out of of our house, I found an old China doll.

It had a puffy, exaggerated expression of innocence, though time had worn the paint from its face and gave it only the barest imitation of humanity.

The creature's face looked like that doll.

But its eyes were large and bulging and completely black.

God, fuck that.

Dude, that's terrifying.

I hate that it's even a kind of a human-esque face.

That makes it worse.

Yeah.

I imagine it where the headboard would be, you know?

Like linged up, looking at him.

It's like these dark black eyes, yeah.

Most notably of all, from its forehead sprouted a pair of long, feathery antennae.

They were as long as its arms, reaching towards the high ceiling.

They waved back and forth gently like ferns.

As I took it in, stunned by the wrongness of it all, the creature smiled at me.

Its pale, fleshy lips parted, revealing a dripping black mouth with no teeth.

And then it spoke.

It said.

The voice was so wrong.

The annotation of words were clearly English, but the voice feminine.

But it had a weird buzz to it, and a thick quality like someone speaking with their throat blocked.

I was somehow able to find my own voice.

A strange buzzing and clicking noise came from the creature.

The fat on its body rolled like waves and the toothless mouth gaped wider.

It was laughing.

I am you.

You are the fruit of my loins.

I buried your brothers and your father and your father's father and his father before him.

I know every inch of you.

You were fresh, for it grew and pupated within me.

Now,

the time has come for you to give, to give of yourself, so I may have your son.

dude

i love this

oh

dude imagine

his mother imagine having to your your imagine having to your mom grandma and great grandma all together dude it's like a giant it's like a giant insect it's like a giant brood mother with the antenna and the shape of it and everything like that it's like um feathers it's like this alien that maybe like way back in generations like convinced the first member of the family and then threatens them if they ever leave from it.

So it's like using them to grow people.

Ugh.

Ugh.

I understood almost immediately.

I felt a mix of horror and revulsion, but it was far off, suppressed.

The sweet smell filled my nostrils.

It made my head swim.

My skin was hot and itchy in the ill-fitting suit.

Oh, making them wear a suit like it's a, like it's a wedding, like they're the groom.

Do you think this has anything common?

Do you think this has anything to do with the incestuous nature of southern

commentary on that?

Like how old

southern aristocracy, like even the way of like this.

Yeah.

That could be the idea.

And it's also like...

There's kind of this theme that's floated around about like the rot of the family.

Like the house is decrepit.

The forest is trying to reclaim it, almost embodying the forest as if the forest is trying to do a justice by getting rid of the property.

And he says at the beginning it dates back to slavery, right?

So it's like there's been such great sins committed by the lineage of this family.

It's like everything around the family is trying to do away with it.

The house is trying to rot away.

The forest is trying to overtake the property.

And now we have a physical embodiment of the rot in the family in this incestuous bug underneath the property that they that birthed this entire generation and the generations before it

Yeah, it's it's yeah, I think that's fair to say there's like a statement there being made about it.

Yeah, I should have been terrified.

I should have been disgusted.

I am in retrospect, but I was under the spell of the creature Scent of its pheromones too powerful for my brain to comprehend at that moment.

I knew that my body served a singular purpose And I knew what that purpose was.

Than I was before the creature.

Its many arms petted my hair, my body, my face, and the soft feathers tickling me.

It cooed and spoke to me as I climbed on top of it, my body sinking into its soft and yielding flesh.

I lay on its stomach, its bosom as my pillow, lying against its skin, though it was tacky like dough.

I felt a comfort I had never known, nor ever known since.

I was safe.

I was swaddled.

I was loved.

It wrapped its spindly arms around me, its buzzing words of encouragement

burrowing into my brain like worms.

Oh, gosh.

It's like a mother and a...

We're pretty gross.

I will say.

I will say.

I had a pretty stern stank face right there, if I'm being honest.

This is cosmic punishment for me making goth mommy jokes for so long.

It's like, oh, you like that?

Is that what you want?

Okay, here you go.

It's like, okay, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm tapping out right now.

I regret it.

And then I began to move my hips.

And I was in heaven.

Yeah, old boy Shakira.

Them hips don't lie.

Not to encourage you, but the bed bug thing is singing that the whole time.

Yeah, I'm on the line.

I'm a hipster.

Any Shakira, actually.

I fuck, I love Shakira, dude.

I honestly probably get down with the bed monster if it was fucking shit singing, Shakira.

I'll spare you the mechanical details of that coupling.

Me recalling having sex with a moth monster who was also oh feathery antenna.

Yeah, moth.

Duh.

yeah a moth monster who was also apparently my mother and grandmother is just as traumatizing as you reading about it but what i must say is that i have never felt pleasure like that since i have never once felt so loved so held and so safe i know now that i wasn't in my right mind and recalling it makes me nauseous There are still nights I jolt awake feeling a ghost of that heavenly pleasure.

For a moment, I grieve that I'll never feel it again.

Damn.

I don't know how long I was in that chamber with that thing.

I vaguely remember dressing myself slowly, still drunk from the pheromones in the air.

I remember the creature rubbing its belly.

Bruh.

Gosh, dude.

Yeah, he definitely.

Old boy left some sourdough in the oven when he left for sure.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Oh, goddamn.

Remember the creature

rubbing its belly as I left, followed by a cloud of moths.

Little easy bake oven.

Shut up.

You're awful.

Call that monster Betty Crocker.

No, go ahead.

This is so up your element.

I love it.

This is your element.

I will say too,

the idea, like the description that I thought was fucking revolting and awesome was him saying that the skin felt like dough.

Whenever you touch a dough and it's kind of sticky.

Oh, like

it's soft.

It's like a cloud.

But when you try to pull your hand back out, it sticks to you and you realize it's kind of sandy almost.

And the whole time it just has these words of encouragement the entire time.

How fucked is that?

Oh, gosh.

The motherly thing with it and like its shape and like you sink into the stomach of it.

All those things combined.

Oh.

Oh, God.

Oh, okay.

You know, this is also a payback because last week I was listening back to the Mother Horse Eyes episode, and there's so many parts where it's me like nerding out about biblical stuff.

And you're just like, okay.

And now this is payback because you get to be hype.

And I get to like, I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I legitimately, the entire time I've been sitting here, I've been thinking about like what moth pheromone, like what moth pussy pheromones smell like, dude.

I was like,

I mean, but that's like,

it's such an interesting descriptive where I was just the whole time I was just like Cinnabon for sure.

I was like, I bet cinnamon rolls, a little bit of icing on top of that.

Well,

he prepared the icing.

He sit there and he was talking about it.

There you go.

With the you, the you being you.

Come on, man.

Come on.

Do you think that

actually kind of be like, it'd almost be like having sex with the Pillsbury doughboy?

Okay.

Actually, that's literally what it'd be like.

Would it not?

Okay.

Giggling and shit.

You don't see that little motherfucker anymore, do you?

There's no commercials with that little son of a bitch name.

Even though you walk

fucking laughing.

You touching his belly.

You walk into the room.

That's the noise it makes.

Yeah, dude.

I can barely remember what they sound like.

Yeah, I don't know.

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We are now back to the episode.

I slept dreamlessly for hours and hours.

Over dinner, I made eye contact with Paw as I was shoveling spaghetti into my mouth.

He beamed at me proudly, and I felt good.

Jamie was looking at me also.

He didn't return my smile.

His mouth was now permanently set in a grim line.

As the encounter with the moth creature faded like a dream, Jamie continued to bother me.

Had any experience the same heavenly pleasure I'd had?

Sure, there were lingering dregs of fear, even disgust at what I'd done, but if everyone in our family had done it, what was the harm?

It was our legacy, after all.

More time passed, and my confusion turned to anger.

Jamie barely interacted with us anymore.

Did he think he was better than us?

Did he think that his feelings made him separate from the family somehow?

I never got the chance to confront him.

He came to me.

It was about five months after my 18th birthday.

Life had continued as normal, but one morning, when we woke up, There was a strange feeling in the air.

I made a comment about it to my brothers, but they just looked at me blankly.

As we went about our chores, I felt strangely happy.

We were walking out to one of the old guest houses when Jamie grabbed me roughly by the arm and pulled me away.

He was nearly nose to nose with me, and his eyes were bright and wild.

You listen good now, Eli.

Why the hell do you think Paul never let us talk to the girls in town?

I looked at him in confusion.

That thing in the chapel, it doesn't want outside competition.

It gave birth to all of us, boys, but it can't control the gender of the baby it makes.

Why do you think there's no girls in our family?

What do you think happens when one is born?

See, I assumed it was all automatically boys, but that's interesting.

The beginnings of dread began to creep up from my stomach.

Yours is coming today.

Jamie continued.

His mouth turned into a scowl.

Let go of the bice grip on my arm.

For your sake, I hope it ain't a girl.

His face fell.

Oh, I wasn't so lucky.

That explains why he's shaking out of the delirium.

That

well,

I'm wondering if

you don't produce a boy, if it fucking mutilates you or something.

I'm wondering if it bites off your dick or something like that.

I think it just kills the girls.

When it gives birth to a girl, it kills it.

Yeah, eats it or something.

Yeah, something brutal.

So that's what happened.

Because remember, Jamie, several months afterwards, got let out at night, then he came back different.

That's what he saw.

Yeah, he shipped.

So it's about to be

Eli saw.

Yeah,

he saw his daughter slash

sister-in-law.

Oh,

Ada's bald or something like that.

Yeah, slash step-aunt.

Oh, oh, he gave, is that how that would work?

Step-aunt?

Yeah, no, just aunt.

You know what, Isaiah?

I'm going to say it.

It's just all plain wrong.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

The dynamics of that are rough.

Okay, anyway, it's like that song on my own grandpa.

I have never heard that.

I don't know what kind of fucking backwoods stuff you've been listening to.

Have you ever heard that song?

It's by the guy that did

the squirrel went berserk.

Nope.

No.

You don't know that one?

Nope.

The day the squirrel went berserk in the first self-register.

Is this a very gay subject?

That sounds like

one of the gayest things I've ever heard.

Hold on, hold on, hold on.

In the most middle school way I could say it, that is one of the gayest things I've heard.

Just like when the squirrel went berserk, hold on, hold on.

It's like so fucking stupid.

Just go, Ray Stevens.

Ray Stevens.

Oh, God.

It's Ray Stevens.

He has a song where he's explaining that, like, he married an older lady, and his dad married a younger girl, and it turns out it was a mother and daughter.

And then he's like, by cause and effect, because I married her.

Or no, he has a kid with the older lady.

So then he's married to

no, no.

His dad has a kid with the younger lady, which makes that like his grand, which makes that his son, but also his

dad is his grandfather.

So he does the math and he's like, I'm my own grandpa by like the cause and effect of it.

Yeah.

Anyway, that is completely unimportant, but yeah.

Okay.

Before I could say anything, he was gone, stalking off after the rest of our brothers.

Stood staring after him.

As night came, my dread grew.

Dawn was my pleasant mood from before.

Night found me sleepless, and I stared at the ceiling for hours.

When the door creaked open, I knew it was Pa.

He came to my bedside and motioned for me to join him.

We made our way through the dark woods to the chapel.

That bad feeling was everywhere, soaked into the very air.

The creatures of the night were silent, and it was cold.

The chapel stood a white smear in the darkness.

We went inside.

The floorboards seemed to vibrate, and when Pa opened the trapdoor, I heard it.

A terrible buzzing wail full of anger and pain punctuated by inhuman squeaks and growls.

I had heard the sounds of animals in pain before.

This was like some sort of horrible symphony of all of those cries.

I recoiled at the sound, standing rooted to the spot.

I looked at Pa to see if my horror was reflected in his face.

It was to some extent, but over it lay a veneer of hardness.

I realized that whatever was happening was no mystery to him.

He'd probably experienced it a hundred times before.

Took my arm and practically dragged me down the tunnel.

The moths were flapping around wildly, diving at us and bouncing off the walls.

A few of them flew into the candle flames, their feathery wings burning as fast as paper.

The screaming got louder.

Came to the chamber.

The creature was in the same spot, but this time, its body was rippling like a wave.

Some of its arms were braced on the walls and floor.

The sweet smell was gone, replaced by that of blood and viscera.

The creature's puffy doll face was twisted in a horrifying mask of pain and rage.

Spittle flew from its black mouth as it wailed, the sound bouncing around the chamber.

Its antenna swiveled wildly around its head, every feather twitching and shaking.

At the sight of us, its pallid face contorted further.

Let me!

Bellowed my father's name.

Wolf have you wrought!

The fruit of your loins beget me!

Only curses!

I was transfixed by the creature's rippling body, bile rising in the back of my throat.

It was pushing something out.

Ugh, I realized.

A dark puddle was forming on the floor beneath it.

My father moved towards the creature like he meant to comfort it.

A pair of arms sideswiped him with surprising strength, sending him careening into the wall.

He tripped over the candles.

The creature let out a deep, throaty groan.

Its body gave one more powerful ripple, and there was a wet.

Oh, gosh, this is so gross.

And there was a wet noise

as something dropped onto the floor of the cave.

What lay before me was essentially...

a cocoon.

It was roughly watermelon-sized, white, and it's glistening with fluid in the light.

The creature's screams died to rattling breaths.

As I watched, the cocoon began to tremble.

A tiny red fist tore its way through the gauzy membrane.

From the hole, I heard a cry, weak and plaintive.

It was a baby.

Something came over me.

I somehow knew that the baby was mine.

I'm sure others can tell better stories of parental instincts kicking in, but that's what happened to me at that moment.

While my father and the creature struggled to recover, I knelt down and began ripping the cocoon apart, trying to free the baby within.

The cocoon had the texture of spider silk, thin and sticky.

It dissolved at my touch.

Soon the baby was free.

Its skin was red and blotchy, and it looked like a lumpy potato, but its face and cry were wholly human.

And as I held it in my hands, I could feel the very gears of the world turning.

My fate was changing.

The creature rasped.

I looked up at it.

Its expression had relaxed, its black eyes grown wide and shining, reflecting the candlelight.

Its antenna had calmed, resuming their slow and gentle waving.

It reached its nearest pair of arms out to me.

Bring it to me, demanded.

I lifted the baby in front of me and realized with sudden dread that something on it was missing.

The baby was female.

The creature's arms strained for the baby, and I instinctually clutched it to my chest.

Why?

It isn't a simple.

It is a curse.

And the labor was long.

I am hungry.

Yep, it eats the babies.

How messed up, dude.

How

it licked its lips, leaving behind a film of gray spit from a black tongue.

Jamie's words came back to me then.

And I realized that he was right.

Pod got to his feet.

He clutched his side, clearly hurt, and his clothes clothes were singed from candle flames.

Just give it to her, son.

It'll be over soon.

I looked down at the baby.

It was crying and squirming.

It grabbed onto my shirt as tightly as it could, its little fist bawling the fabric.

For the first time in my life, I made my own decision.

I turned away from my family, and I ran.

Ah, shit.

I held the baby tightly to my chest as I spread it into the tunnel.

My father called after me, but his voice was drowned out by a buzzing wail that grew in volume until it seemed a physical thing, a wave pushing me out.

Moths bounced off my face as I ran past the candles.

They blew out, filling the tunnel with darkness.

I thought I heard my father scream, a sound of terror beneath the creature's anger.

I don't like to think about it.

Left our property towards town, the baby still bawling loudly.

Finally, I had to stop running.

My lungs burning and my legs cramping.

I'd never been as afraid as I was limping through that dark dark forest.

My daughter's cries, a dead giveaway to any who would follow.

But nothing dead.

I walked through the town, knocking on doors until someone answered.

My daughter's sobs had tapered from a steady stream to quiet whimpers, and I knew she needed care soon.

The ice cream girl answered the door.

Her hair must have sleep.

She took in the sight of me, recognizing me immediately, and her eyes widened at the baby in my arms.

Please help us, I croaked.

It was the first time I'd spoken to a woman,

really spoken.

Shirley's family took care of me for a while.

They taught me how to care for my daughter, how to change diapers and prepare formula and burp her.

I never left their house for fear of seeing my family.

I was there for only a week or two.

Then my daughter and I hit the road again.

Went from town to town, surviving on the kindness of strangers.

It was usually women who ended up helping us.

I met all kinds of women.

Women hardened by the world, bitter ones, gentle ones, fiery ones.

They taught me about the world, about all the things I'd been missing.

We were far enough north that I felt safe.

I began trying to settle down.

My daughter was growing into a healthy, fat little toddler.

She, oh no, I'm really afraid that the daughter is going to be one of those bed things.

That's what I'm wondering, too.

She was the axis on which my world turned.

Everything I did, I did for her.

Eventually, I named her Deborah.

Debbie for short.

I found a decent job with on-site daycare for Debbie.

Back then, it was a little easier to provide for a child than it is today, I won't deny.

But I still worked myself to the bone.

It was the easiest way to chase away the shadows that plagued my mind.

I had lovers here and there, both men and women, but it hasn't lasted.

Sex was difficult for me, considering what I had been through.

I always felt disgusting afterwards, always unable to ignore the simple fact that I would never feel as good as that.

And that knowledge made me feel like a monster.

Eventually I stopped trying to feign interest in sex and I was happier for it, but it meant that I had never got into a real relationship.

I didn't need a relationship.

I had Debbie.

As the years passed and she grew bright and smart and funny, shadows of my past seemed farther and farther away.

But I was a fool to let myself be comforted by time.

I cannot escape the curse of my blood, no matter how far I run.

Yesterday was Debbie's 14th birthday.

Today she locked herself in the bathroom in the morning, crying for hours.

She finally let me in, I could barely contain a scream because there, bursting from my daughter's forehead, was a pair of long, feathery antenna.

That was awesome.

That was sick.

What a great little ending there.

So much for the

oh, that's rough, dude.

Such a, goddamn, such a short, sweet little thing.

Compared to last week, too, it's still packed such a great punch.

Also, too,

so

I'm wondering, too, obviously the competition, right,

of not wanting any female children, do you think it was just solely so that moth creature could be the only one?

Or do you think it was just like, or first let me ask, is that something that moth do in general?

Do they eat their own children?

No,

I don't.

I don't think that happens.

I'm so curious.

Do you think that the moth killed the dad and the family?

No, no, hold on, hold on.

Children, no, I'm crazy.

Absolutely not.

Because moth, I don't think moth eat at all.

Maybe some do, but they're just the adult versions of the caterpillars that go to the chrysalis.

And then they're just normally just in moth state long enough to eat.

I mean, not eat, to breed, and then they die.

I'm pretty sure.

So this is one that's continuing to eat to where if it b if it

oh, I wonder actually if the moth died because it was unable to eat its young or whatever.

You know what I mean?

That's not.

Adult moths generally do not eat much and some species don't eat at all.

Interesting.

Interesting.

I wonder if it was just keeping itself alive through like generations of this, of like the men coming back to like basically keep it alive through sex.

You know what I mean?

Yeah, the idea of eating the daughters is so brutal, eating their own children.

And now that creates an there there are some interesting things about, like, you know, he is a moth, or like he's a half-moth creature throughout the story, right?

And now it's like you go back to the mother

and, you know, you give it another child that's the same way as you.

And it doesn't want competition.

So does that mean when his daughter gets old enough, she's also going to put out pheromones and try to convince her father to keep this lineage going?

That I don't know.

And also I'm wondering at what point in the bloodline did a man find a giant alien moth creature underground and just it sounds like well, it sounds like it was something that came up from the dirt, like something ancient that started to like insert itself onto his family.

Also, I like the parallels earlier of what they said of like the family was born on slavery, rape, and pain, basically.

You could look at that like literal slaves, but you could also the family itself has been enslaved by this thing.

And like is, you know, unwillingly having sex with this thing and

basically continuing its bloodline that way.

Unable to actually ever have like a real human existence, too.

But yeah, I was curious because they said it was, he was lumpy like a sweet potato.

So I'm curious if even when it was a baby, did it look normal or did it look like, you know, has it always been kind of a weird-looking?

Well, they said it was weird, but, or that the little girl was weird, but that she had a cry that was distinctly human.

So

I think it looked human up until it was 14 and started growing the antenna.

Right.

Yeah.

Whatever way you look at this story, it's incredibly messed up.

Like from every angle, this is brutal.

It's rough.

It hurts.

Such an interesting thing.

Also, it got us there in such a fast way.

Like, I don't know, bought into like weird southern culture thing of like dad who like does not allow his sons to talk to women,

only to find out that like basically the family survived by inbreeding with this thing that is like not, it's his father's, mother's father mother's grandfather all that kind of stuff just so fucked up and weird also too good for elias elias is a dope character getting the fuck out of there also too jaime having the the will i yeah yeah yeah eli yeah elias it's elias my bad yeah elias is our main character and then the uh

and then jamie even having the gusts just like kind of warn him as well but obviously he had to suffer through that i'm so curious if he hadn't gotten that warning his daughter would have been eaten yeah But then it's like, okay, would it have been better if she was, if this is going to start again and the process continue, you know?

I'm wondering if he, because of that altercation, when he's just like, just think about it, because at first he was like, so on board with just being like, well, this is what our family does.

It is what it is.

If he doesn't get that, if he didn't get that kind of interaction with his brother and that kind of perspective, do you think he would have saved his child?

Or do you think that his fatherly instincts would have kicked in and he's just like, would it would have still been the same fate?

You know what I mean?

Would he still have taken it and ran away?

I don't know.

Kind of an interesting thing.

Also, he has so many other brothers that I'm wondering.

I'm so curious to see from the author's perspective: if, like, the, you know, is the thing still alive?

Is it still going on?

There's so many like fun little things to think about.

Because in this case, I'd like to think that this is actually the thing that killed the creature.

And now the dad and them are able to, like, I don't know, live their lives normally.

However, that is, though, the dad is fucked because he's just, I mean, it's a lifetime mentally distressed.

I mean, he got, well, he got ripped apart is what it sounds like.

I heard my father scream over the sound of the creature's anger.

I don't like to think about.

That sounds to me like

he probably did die then.

Who knows?

Well, it says earlier, you have brought me only transgressions or whatever she says.

And then she hears the father scream.

So I think that means that it killed, you know.

Oh, it's kind of interesting because that means that the dad was killed.

Which is fine.

Which is fine.

That means the dad was the last one to actually have

a son.

And then now I think what he means is you've only given me transgression I'm wondering if it's saying like you your kids only bear women women yeah that's what it sounds like to me also this is kind of reminiscent of Tommy Taffy and that it's a father who has a curse that willingly tries to let their children get through the curse and it's a sexual curse funny enough

or it has sexual elements to it And it's like, we just have to maintain.

We just have to, you know, get through this stage.

But at least with the original Tommy Taffy, there was evidence of that family trying to stop it.

Even if, you know, me and you made jokes about like, you should have tried harder.

There was some attempt to like push it back.

Whereas here, it seems like the father was just bought into it.

But at the same time, maybe the father was still under the delusion.

Maybe, you know, I'm sure there was daughters he had mixed in, but he thought he needed to take care of his sons.

Who knows?

If it's all you've ever known.

And that's how you've been raised and stuff.

I mean,

what else?

What else would you know?

I mean, is it different?

Yes.

But at the same time, if that's just like what life has been, then of course you're going to like continue to carry on the kind of

the kind of, I guess, systematic fucking shit that happens in your own family.

You know what I mean?

My dad did this, therefore I do it, whatever.

And especially if you don't allow them to associate with anybody in the outside world, especially women, then what's the...

you know, what do you expect?

I don't think I can fault the dad.

I just think he's just a person that, I mean, years of delusion, you know, to this point now where you have a character like Elias who's sitting there and he sees his brother Jamie talking to the other girl.

Like, you can tell the younger guys are interacting more than they should be with people outside of,

you know, the dad's reach to where that probably gave them a bit of perspective as well.

So,

I don't know.

Very interesting.

Like you said, though, definitely my kind of story.

I love

just weird.

Man, I just was thinking in my head about the big pillowy kind of monster thing.

Also, it just living in this like fucking underground tunnel with candles lining the wall.

Like visually, such a fun story.

Also, the author, Solas, did Solas did an incredible job with some of the descriptions.

Just like intro, like even just the, I'll go back.

I know I've already talked about it, but I just love that descriptor of the dough skin.

Just that feeling of like, I already know what that feels like.

Like, I'm, and I've just, I feel like I've felt it on my hand since we've been, we've been reading this, or even

Elias tearing open the cocoon and it's like a silk, like a spider web kind of like texture and stuff and the sounds that would make of tearing that open.

Super fun.

Also, too, just like, you know, this could easily be a story that you stretch out and stuff, but it was just such a fun little, like, almost social media post, you know.

Even at the end, he's just like, and it has just that little cherry on top with the antenna at the end.

Really enjoyed it.

Yeah, that killed.

That was awesome.

we like ye we like ye and it's nice to have a nice little digestible fucking a nice swift punch to the gut after a long episode so this is just a nice little palate cleanser uh to kind of get us back into our normal routine of having episodes be like two and a half three hours long like it's always nice whenever you find a story that's just short and punchy like this really like it

So they have, I'm looking at their stuff, they have at least two other stories posted to No Sleep.

One is called Saint in a Box that's still up but they had another one called drowning doesn't always kill you that was removed from no sleep uh knowing no sleep it may have been removed because they said like yeah because they they gave a location the fictional locations like address or something like something fucking one of the one of the giant arbitrary rules that they have on their fucking submission boards that's kind of if you're watching this if you're watching this so list just throw it on creepcast whatever throw it on creepcast dude throw it on creepcast we'll we'll leave it up also it's a great name for a story

not uh drowning does it always kill you pretty fun yeah so well guys thank you so much for listening today i know this one was a short one we like i said we were just trying to give ourselves a bit of time after that behemoth we recorded before but this is this one turned out to be great not often do you get a nice fuck fuck family moth uh pussy story dude that you know very rarely happens in this lifetime so we're very lucky uh be sure to check us out on spotify and uh Apple Podcasts and all those kind of places.

And as well, if you're interested in checking out the Patreon, feel free to check it out there and support us and get some more behind-the-scenes content or just extra content in general.

But, like we said before, it will not affect our weekly uploads that we have here for you for free.

So, just let you know.

Thank you so much for listening to Creepcast, and goddammit, we'll see you next week.

Bye-bye.

My level of discomfort and all of that was fitting compared to the level of comfort I had last week.

So, I guess we're even.

Bye.