Lot 061 : Be Careful What Your Kids Watch On YouTube and My Friends Found My Dad’s OnlyFans Account

Today's episode is sponsored by I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Get It Now on Digital.

When five friends inadvertently cause a deadly car accident, they cover up their involvement and make a pact to keep it a secret rather than face the consequences.

A year later, their past comes back to haunt them, and they're forced to confront a horrifying truth.

Someone knows what they did last summer and is hell-bent on revenge.

As one by one, the friends are stalked by a killer.

They discover this happened before, so they turn to two survivors of the legendary Southport massacre of 1997 for help.

Starring Madeline Klein, Chase Sue Wonders, Jonah Hauer King with Freddie Prince Jr., and Jennifer Love Hewitt.

I know what you did last summer is a perfect summer slasher, says Jordan Cruciolo of NPR.

Your summer is not over yet.

Don't miss a killer movie night at home.

Q Q equals W.

Ah, yes, you have arrived.

I've been expecting you.

Only a child sees things with perfect clarity because it hasn't developed all those filters which prevent us from seeing things that we don't expect to see.

A quote like Douglas Adams that should find some proper real estate on a t-shirt.

But alas,

this is what we get instead.

Bovo pumpkin.

Not many of these shirts around.

Especially curious that it's your exact size.

It's a kid's show that just a handful of people remember.

Even curiouser still is that there is no information or proof that it ever even existed absolutely anywhere.

Save for this

one.

Original t-shirt.

Yet, still to this day, every once in a while, someone claims to come across a new episode.

The title of this one and the warning that comes with it are one and the same in this case.

Be careful what your kids watch on YouTube.

Welcome to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings

and Odd Goings On.

Be careful what your kids watch on YouTube.

My kids watch a lot of YouTube, but I'm not afraid to admit it.

Sometimes I need a break.

Sometimes I need to cook dinner.

Sometimes I want to hide in the closet for 15 minutes and cry my eyes out.

You know how it goes as a parent.

Anyway, a few days ago, I put my kids on YouTube and walked away for a bit.

I don't want to name any specific names to incite a lawsuit here, but let's just say it was a very popular channel that follows the lives of several 3D animated toddlers and their families.

Let's call it Bobo Pumpkin.

But anyone who has kids knows exactly what channel I'm talking about.

Anyway.

I put on the TV and walked away.

As I prepared dinner, however, I heard some

strange audio coming from the TV.

It sounded like the wheels on the bus song, the specific version from Bobo Pumpkin I've heard dozens of times.

Except

weirdly distorted,

like it was being played back at half speed.

I left a chopped up onion on the counter and walked into the living room.

But when I saw the TV,

I was shocked.

Some cheap rip-off channel with a name in a language I didn't recognize had stolen the audio and video for the classic Bobo Pumpkins wheels on the bus song.

Except, presumably, to avoid getting caught by YouTube's copyright filters, they changed it up.

They changed the audio to half-speed or similar, making the voices low and distorted, almost

demonic.

They'd messed with the video multiple ways.

Turned it upside down, switched up the colors.

The bus was pink and this kid's skin was a cyan blue.

made two mirror images of that intersected in the middle.

These changes didn't happen all at once, but sequentially.

A few seconds of upside down, then a few seconds of weird colors, etc.

When I finally got over my shock, I immediately grabbed the remote and switched it off.

The kids didn't seem to care one way or the other, but

I was thoroughly creeped out.

A few days passed, and I kept a closer eye on the kids while they watched YouTube, but the video didn't come up again.

They assumed that was the end of it.

I was wrong.

On Tuesday, after putting dinner on the table, I called to the kids: Johnny, Amelia, dinner's ready.

No response.

Ugh, these kids never listen to me.

Johnny, Amelia,

Where are you?

Silence.

I charged up the stairs, ready to yell at them for not replying to me.

But when I poked my head into Johnny's room,

he wasn't there.

Amelia wasn't in her bedroom either.

Johnny?

Amelia?

But then I heard it.

That

distorted, half-speed audio from the other room.

Coming from my bedroom.

I burst into my room, and sure enough, I found them both sitting on my bed, watching that

cursed video on my TV.

Johnny!

Amelia!

They didn't move.

They just stared at the screen.

Eyes glassy.

Bright colors flashing over their faces.

Almost like they were hypnotized.

I grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.

They slowly turned toward me.

Sleepy, almost.

Like they were just...

waking up.

Didn't you guys hear me?

Amelia shook her head.

Johnny just stared.

Come on.

Dinner's ready.

But as we sat down to eat, a horrible feeling grew in the pit of my stomach.

That night after the kids went to sleep, I uninstalled the YouTube app from both TVs.

There was plenty to watch on Disney Plus, and there was even that new Bobo Pumpkin show on Netflix.

They just have to live without it for a while.

After cleaning up downstairs and locking up, I took a bath.

I sunk into the warm water, taking deep

breaths-entering relaxation mode.

But only

10 minutes later, I heard something

coming from the other side of the door.

Music.

I strained my ears, listening.

It was muffled enough that I couldn't make out the singing, but from the pitch, I knew exactly what it was.

I got out of the tub, wrapped a towel around myself, burst into the bedroom.

I ran over to my phone, charging on the nightstand.

Sure enough,

I had YouTube open and playing the video.

I stared in horror at the blue-skinned bus driver slapping his hand on the horn.

I grabbed the phone and turned it off.

Must have went off by accident.

Emerald must have tapped the phone, and they've been watching that video so much, it's probably right on my feed.

Our cat Emerald isn't in the room right now,

but the door was ajar.

She could have gotten in, played with my phone, and accidentally opened YouTube.

Right?

It was highly unlikely, but I told myself those lies anyway.

I couldn't go down that path.

Spiral into fear.

I'd done it too many times as a single mom.

Heard a noise in the middle of the night.

Found a stray footprint in the yard.

Saw someone I didn't recognize walking down the street, glancing at my house.

Freaking me out every time.

I was not going to lose my shit over some Bobo pumpkin video of all things.

I dried off, got into my pajamas, and checked on the kids.

Then I turned off my phone, put on airplane mode so I didn't even have internet access, and went to sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and glanced at the time.

3.17 a.m.

I got up and used the bathroom.

Then I decided to take a quick look at the kids.

I'd check on them sometimes just to make sure everything was okay.

As soon as I got into the hallway, though, I saw something was terribly wrong.

Both of their doors were open.

My heart began to pound.

Johnny?

Amelia?

I ran to their rooms.

Their beds were empty.

No, no, no.

I ran down the stairs.

Johnny!

Amelia!

They didn't answer me.

But I also didn't see any evidence of a break-in, a kidnapping, anything.

Where are you?

As I made it to the foyer, I froze.

The basement door was ajar.

And in the darkness on the walls of the stairwell, I could see flickering blue light.

What the hell?

Our basement wasn't finished.

But we did have a few things down there.

An old sofa, some boxes of toys, an old TV with an N64 and Super Nintendo that we sometimes played.

Johnny and Amelia liked to play down there.

Maybe they got up in the middle of the night, couldn't sleep, and

went down there to play.

I opened the door and stepped down onto the first step.

The wood creaked underneath me.

Johnny?

Amelia?

I called.

Nothing.

My heart pounded.

I felt weak,

sick.

I charged down the stairs, my hand slipping over the banister.

Halfway down.

I heard it.

That distorted

half-speed audio from the video.

I ran down the stairs.

Johnny and Emilio were sitting there on the cold floor.

in front of the old TV.

It was playing the video.

But the fuck?

The TV down here was only connected to cable.

It had no fucking way of connecting to the internet.

No way of getting to YouTube.

Johnny!

Amelia!

They didn't move.

I watched in horror as the upside-down daddy gave his son a hug.

And then the video flipped back up and their skin turned bluish green.

Said the warped, distorted audio.

Static rippled across the image.

Johnny and Amelia stared at the TV, barely moving.

The bright colors reflecting in their eyes.

Their mouths hanging open.

Hypnotized.

I ran over to the plug and yanked it out of the outlet.

The TV flickered off with a static

sound.

They slowly turned towards me.

You're not supposed to be down here.

It's the middle of the night.

Sorry, mommy.

Amelia said.

Why?

Why do you want to watch this stupid video?

They didn't say anything.

How did you even get it to play on here?

Amelia got up.

Then Johnny.

Without a word, the two of them started up the stairs.

I flicked off the lights and ran up after them.

I put them back to bed.

Then I went back to my bedroom and tried to fall back asleep.

But I couldn't.

There must have been some sort of hidden message in the video.

Some sort of weird, covert hypnosis, something to make the kids keep replaying it.

I'd read articles that the actual Bobo Pumpkin channel itself was addictive and overstimulating with its earworm songs and bright colors.

Maybe this corrupted version was like that, but on overdrive.

Or maybe it was some hidden whispering or images that imprinted on the viewer's subconscious.

I grabbed my phone, opened YouTube, and played the video.

I studied it, staring at the grainy compression artifacts, the switched colors, the smiling 3D family with their oversized heads and perfect smiles.

But there didn't seem to be any sort of horrible images or audios added.

The song had been slowed down and the video had been edited to be upside down, colors swapped, all kinds of things like that, but nothing stuck out as sinister.

After five watches, I turned off the phone and went to sleep.

I hoped that would be the end of it.

I was wrong.

In the morning, while the kids were still sleeping, I unplugged all the TVs.

I crept down the hall past their closed doors and headed downstairs, completely disconnecting the TV in the living room and then the basement.

They couldn't watch that stupid video anymore.

But unfortunately,

the damage had already been done.

I heated up their breakfast and called for them.

Johnny, Amelia.

they didn't come downstairs.

Calling them down from bed worked only about half the time under normal circumstances, and they were probably super tired this morning.

I started up the stairs to wake them for school.

But when I opened the doors, my heart dropped through the floor.

Amelia was lying there in bed.

She wasn't asleep.

Her eyes were open.

She was staring straight up at the ceiling.

Her pupils jittering

back

and forth

as if she were

watching something.

Amelia!

I grabbed her shoulders, gently shook her.

Amelia!

Nothing.

When When I burst into Johnny's room, it was the same thing.

He was lying there on his side with his eyes open, staring straight at the wall.

His pupils moving slightly back

and forth,

as if he were watching something projected on the blank wall.

Johnny.

Johnny!

It's been five hours now.

I took them to the ER.

The doctors have no idea what's wrong with them.

They haven't spoken.

They barely even blinked.

They've just been staring straight ahead.

Eyes jittering as if they're watching some invisible video I can't see.

And just a few minutes ago,

for the first time today,

Amelia made a noise

as she lay on the hospital bed next to her brother,

she was humming

a slowed-down version

of wheels on the bus.

The wheels on the bus go round and round.

Catchy ain't it.

Johnny and Amelia sure love it.

Hell, it's all they ever listen to.

You know what?

I've got one more item to grab out of the stockroom for you.

Looks like you could use a double feature.

Make yourself comfortable, and I'll be right back.

Today's episode is sponsored by I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Get it now on digital.

When five friends inadvertently cause a deadly car accident, they cover up their involvement and make a pact to keep it a secret rather than face the consequences.

A year later, their past comes back to haunt them, and they're forced to confront a horrifying truth.

Someone knows what they did last summer and is hell-bent on revenge.

As one by one, the friends are stalked by a killer, they discover this happened before, so they turn to two survivors of the legendary Southport massacre of 1997 for help.

Starring Madeline Klein, Chase Sue Wonders, Jonah Howard King with Freddie Prince Jr.

and Jennifer Love Hewitt.

I know what you did last summer is a perfect summer slasher, says Jordan Crucciolo of NPR.

Your summer is not over yet.

Don't miss a killer movie night at home.

Have a penchant for the demonic?

A lust for darkness?

Oh, we know you surely do.

If you are among the chosen few who can hear a seemingly nonsensical string of letters being spoken aloud on your way out the store, then you are most certainly marked by the purveyors of the never was.

Hail to the defiled.

Hail, Erebus.

To unlock their secrets, it's quite simple, really.

With the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings' handsome brass cipher pin.

Available now at theantiquarium.myshopify.com.

As an anointed one, listen for the hidden cipher key that will reveal the rotation of the inner circle of your device.

This could be a number that will dictate the position shift starting from A, or quite simply, an equation such as D equals J.

Your cursed decoder will then whisper the true meaning of the scrambled letters, further cementing your faith with us in endless purgatory, where your filthy soul will continue to rot and fester from your insatiable appetite for the unclean.

Ave domino noctus.

So sorry for the interruption, and even more so for what I'm about to share with you.

This little box contains a badge.

Not unlike a badge one might wear on a lapel, which is coincidentally exactly where this one was found.

As to what is on the badge, you'll discover that when you open the box.

Not in here,

best to find somewhere private for.

My friends found my dad's OnlyFans account, and they're unhealthily obsessed with his posts.

My friends found my dad's OnlyFans account.

And they're unhealthily obsessed with his posts.

Nick, your dad is on OnlyFans.

Tom, 25, male, messaged on Discord.

What a way to find out.

Of course, I, 24 male, rolled my eyes at first.

It just seemed like one of my friend's infantile jokes, a playground insult that might have tickled me when we were younger.

I wouldn't have taken my oldest friend seriously if it hadn't been for the link I received a moment later.

There, Dad, 54, male, posed in all of his glory.

Ugh.

Not in the nude, thankfully, but far from decent.

My father's cover photo depicted him lying provocatively on a leopard skin rug, revealing his greasy, matted chest hair through a silk robe of matching black and orange design.

It was not a pose that his employer would have found appropriate.

And even with the knockoff ray-bands covering his eyes, I recognized him.

That goofy smile, once so endearing, was edged to me.

It felt as if the image were cutting my eyes.

What the fuck?

I messaged Tom.

I knew Pete was struggling after mom left, but fuck, man, that is shit.

I've always wanted to see Papa Pete's cat.

My other friend, Simon, 24 male, said, Shut up, I replied.

What do I do?

Do I confront him?

You should sub.

Fuck off.

He's kind of right, Nick.

You need to know what the fuck is that?

No, I don't.

I really fucking don't, I replied.

Then we'll do it.

Uh, we,

yeah, Tom.

I'll need your emotional support and a bottle of bleach after combing through all those photos and videos.

We'll take turns.

I'll look at a post, then you look at a post.

Oh, Pete has thousands of nudes.

His account dates back to 2020.

How about you look at the first photo, let us know the damage, then I'll subscribe if you want to share the burden.

I already seen it.

It was weird.

WTF, you subscribed without telling me?

I messaged, feeling betrayed.

Sorry, Nick, curiosity got the best of me.

But don't worry, I didn't see your dad's pecker or hole.

Jesus Christ, I replied.

Please, don't ever say those words again.

Don't send the photo.

Please.

But describe it.

It was worse than a nude.

Your dad was licking what looked like a wax arm, and he wore a badge attached to his lapel labeled Mr.

Morphophilia.

I googled that word

Pete has a fetish for deformed people

Oh, that's not so bad.

I was expecting worse.

No offense Nick, but it was kind of a given that your dad is into freaky shit.

He is an OnlyFans creator.

Pete's page is insane.

His fans are unhinged, Nick.

They're commenting all sorts of degenerate things.

I mean, like, fair play to him.

He's got a devoted following, but he might want to get some security because these subscribers are a little too into him.

They're giving me psycho vibes.

Do you want me to send you some screenshots?

I said nothing in response.

I closed my laptop, curled into a ball under my duvet, and hoped I would wake hours later to find that the whole thing had been a bad dream, or that my friends had fooled me.

Created some convincing AI images of my father, perhaps.

Still, I knew them.

And I knew even that level of Simon and Tom foolery, as I often called it, was beneath them.

I woke up around 5 a.m., having only managed to get

three hours of sleep.

And when I opened my laptop, I saw that my friends had continuing messaging each other, continued conducting their research.

I subscribed.

Shit.

The next photo is worse.

I know.

You've seen it?

I thought we were going to take it in turns.

You know, look at alternating posts to save our sanity.

Tom messaged.

Yeah.

I get it.

I feel it

Nick, I

hate to say it, but

this is legitimately

beautiful.

Simon, did you watch the video Nick posted a week ago?

Next fucking level.

I know.

I think I recognized that girl.

She was in no spoilers.

Let's wait till Nick wakes up.

No spoilers.

My god.

I've not felt this way in a long time.

Swadeo.

Yes.

There was a gap of one hour without any exchange of messages.

I hoped that my friends would have changed the topic after the initial unsettling flurry of opinions on my father's OnlyFans content.

Hoped that they would have said something to remind me that they were my friends.

They didn't.

And they weren't.

This wasn't some practical joke.

I knew Tom and Simon well, and this wasn't them.

Their conversation resumed around 4 a.m.

It started with a short clip that Tom had attached.

And I wish I hadn't played it.

The video opened with a shaky shot at my friend's desk.

Hello, Nick.

He said, gleefully giggling behind the camera.

On Tom's monitor, I caught a glimpse of Dad's OnlyFans page for a moment, peeked over the paywall, and felt a pang of agony.

The same sensation that I'd felt upon eyeing his cover photo, but twice as painful.

Even through a phone's camera.

An image of an image.

Given the change in my friends,

I dread to think what gazing directly upon my father's posts would have done to my mind.

I don't think I want to know, but it was clear that Tom and Simon had seen something which fundamentally altered their very souls.

That flicker of the computer screen, fortunately too hazy to distinguish, seared more than my eyes.

It seared my skin from top to toes,

stopping just shy of consuming more than my physical form.

I screamed, feeling some unbound force trying to untether my mind from my body.

I didn't know what was happening to me, but I knew it was the same thing on a lesser scale that had happened to my friends.

Perhaps dad had brewed the perfect combination of pixels to hypnotize folk into

parting with their money.

Perhaps he'd been consumed by something beyond earthly explanation.

I still don't have an answer.

I want you to understand,

Nick,

Tom continued, moving a kitchen knife on his desk into view.

I want you to see that your dad has done a beautiful thing.

I'm going to be part of that thing.

I

trembled as I realized what was about to happen.

My friend placed the camera on the desk, making sure he was in shot.

There were no theatrics, no pause, no grand monologue.

He seemed to be hurrying, and that was what made it all the more awful.

Tom didn't utter a sound as he sawed through his right arm, a sound that even my piercing shriek didn't drown.

His calm demeanor whilst enduring such pain almost made me doubt the validity of the footage, but his face was finally in frame, and it told me that this was real.

There was no fake in his ghastly smile, accompanied by tearful, jubilant eyes.

That wasn't my friend.

With the awful squelch of innards and sharp cracking of bone, my friend's forearm came loose, came free like pulled pork just below the elbow joint.

Tom released a triumphant roar as his blade met the blood-soaked wood below, then he let his severance instrument splash into the growing pool.

My friend was shivering not with agony, but primal delight as he lifted the dismembered limb with his remaining hand.

Lifted the bloody appendage towards the camera.

The video ended there.

My face was painted with snot and tears, and I was struggling to breathe through sharp intakes and releases.

through a throat hoarse from screaming.

That was why when I saw a discord message from Simon had been removed, I felt relieved.

I don't know what my other friend sent, but if it were anything like Tom's video, I wouldn't have wanted to see it.

However, the final three messages brought my teeth together.

Nick isn't ready for mine.

No.

He isn't.

But he felt it for a moment.

Felt what we feel.

he felt it for free, Simon.

For free.

What a gift.

Do you think Daddy wants him to see?

I think Daddy wants us all to see.

My garden's motion lighting suddenly sprang to life.

And less than a moment later, a rock punctured my bedroom window.

tore like a bullet into my room, leaving glass shards on my duvet and a lasting jolt of fear in my chest.

Quivering, I shuffled along the bed, then peered around the edge of the window frame.

Something I immediately regretted.

In the garden, stark naked, were Tom and Simon.

Without clothes to hide behind, there was no fudging the facts.

Under the bright white glare of the garden's lighting, no practical effects would have explained the dismemberment of my two friends.

Tom stood, right arm absent, with his remaining hand gripping the left handle of the wheelbarrow below.

And lying in that cart, like a bloody mound of mulch and brambles, was the still moving body of Simon.

A living, breathing body without arms and legs.

A torso immobilized, but somehow more alive than ever.

Even from the top window of my home,

I saw the smile on Simon's face.

A face coated in trails of blood from the eyes he had plucked from their sockets.

Tom called from below.

Simon yelled something incoherent, opening his mouth wide to reveal that he also lacked a tongue.

Simon says it's time for you to see daddy's page, Tom shouted before pushing the wheelbarrow towards the patio doors.

I yelled at the sound of shattering glass.

Then I hurriedly slipped into my joggers.

I did not run towards the front door as I knew I would only meet my two unhinged friends.

I tore open the bedroom window, ignoring Tom's delirious cackles as he dashed through my house and I reached towards the trellis on my rear wall.

An exterior feature I was glad to have installed the summer before.

I'm gonna have to leave you here for a minute, Simon, but it's gonna be okay.

I heard my other friend release a series of giddy, unintelligible murmurs, the hauntingly happy moans and groans of a man trying to speak without the means to do so.

Stairs creaked rapidly, and I screamed as I hurled my body out of the window, fingers weaving through the crisscross structure.

The wooden framework of the trellis bent and strained under my weight, working fiercely to cling to the wall.

I descended at great pace before my makeshift ladder decided to clock out.

And halfway down, Tom's bare upper body burst through my bedroom window.

He swung an arm and a severed stump in my direction, and if he hadn't dismembered himself, my once friend may well have seized me.

But

I made it to the safety of the paving slabs below, and then I fled.

I still want to see dad.

I want to know what he did to the 3,789 people subscribed to his OnlyFans account.

Before all this, we'd barely spoken in in two years, but I don't understand what's happened to him.

Don't understand why my own father would convince thousands of people to do such unthinkably odious things to themselves.

I might never have known my dad at all.

Maybe he's always been this way.

Maybe something has changed him as much as it changed my friends.

I don't understand any of it.

I don't know who my father has become,

and I won't be subscribing to his account to find out.

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Thank you for your patronage.

Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history.

It does come with our usual warning, however.

Absolutely no refunds, no exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession.

If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances, maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers.

Please reach out to antiquariumshop at gmail.com.

A member of our team will be in touch.

Till next time, We'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes in the space between sleep and dream

during regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, only for you,

our

best customer.

You have a good night now.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings.

Lot 061.

My friends found my dad's OnlyFans account.

Written by Dominic Eagle, starring Conan Freeman as Nick.

Jeffrey Allen Sneed as Simon.

Trevor Shand as Tom.

For more, visit Black Volumes on YouTube.

Be careful what your kids watch on YouTube.

Written by Blair Daniels, narrated by Romy Evans, starring Jade Shand as Amelia.

Featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer.

Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand.

Theme music by the Newton Brothers.

Additional music by COAG and Vivek Abishek.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand.

Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod.

Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.

Get ready for the aftermath as Creep IE returns to Southern California September 5th through 7th with over 200,000 square feet of pure terror.

Monsters, bands, horror legends, twisted vendors, nightmarish photo ops, and fear around every corner.

Bloody Disgusting will also be on site to share swag, raffle off can't miss prizes, and host star-studded panels.

Kicking off the festivities with a celebration of the Creep series featuring Patrick Bryce and Mark Duplas.

This is not your average con.

Get your tickets now before they vanish at creepiecon.com.

Now, prepare for the aftermath.