Creepypasta Russian Sleep Experiment Novels & Stories

I mumble with my eyes closed, “Let me sleep for a while... I am too drunk...” She lays next to me. I spoon her and fall asleep. ...... I am still half asleep but I am feeling uncomfortable and slimy. Something is wrong. I am not sure if it’s sleep paralysis or what, but I am trying to wake up.. I am feeling something, but I don’t want to believe it. When I force myself to open my eyes. I feel disgusted and dirty when I see what Sadie is doing. Sadie is naked and has undone my pants and is licking and sucking me. I am shocked and speechless for a moment but I bark at her, “SADIE!!!”

I am fine with that . I gulp . I am pretty sure I locked the door though . ' Just do it . Turn around . Don't be scared . Ghosts aren't real ' I turn around in an instant , almost getting a whiplash and look behind . There was ... Nothing there. I sigh with relief . I must have imagined it . They say that stress and sleep deprivation can affect the brain in many ways that scientists are just beginning to understand . It must be some sort of hallucination . I should get some sleep .

Modern, furnished and beautiful and looking new everyday although the house was five years old already. Juana's coffee was transparent, lot of water,lot of sugar, no milk. So she could see her face while sipping at it. Her big blue eyes were a bit undefined, her expression showed fear with a mixture of helplessness and unusual calm. Then the dream came again. Avocado. Garden. Branch. Third branch. Corpse dripping with blood. Loose. Screaming. Empty House. Dream. "Oh my goodness" she sighed, dropping her half empty mug. She tried to make meaning out of it, but it was a little creepy..

That night, the nightmares came like a tidal wave. I was back in the dark van, the smell of gasoline and sweat. Hands grabbing. A mask over my face. My mother’s screams fading into the distance. Then the bright room. The straps. The cold gel on my temples. The voice saying, “Begin the stimulus. Record the neural response.” I screamed myself awake, bolting upright in the bed, drenched in cold sweat, my throat raw. The door flew open before the echo of my scream had died. Jeremy and Raphael. They weren’t in sleep clothes. They were in jeans and t-shirts, as if they’d been waiting, listening.

I inserted my hand into the pocket in my jacket and walked on. ~~~~ Fire! Screamed! Fear! Darkness! That was all I could pictured in my sleep for 13years of my life. I saw no faces, but a child crying so loud from a distance that do brushed my eardrum. Was this connected to the past I knew nothing about? I swallowed the heavy load in my throat, reached for the table clock on my table, then I dropped it back on the stool. It is morning already. I flicked off the blanket from me and rose up from the bed. I relieved this with music or exercise.

Harper lay on the ruined four-poster bed, chest heaving, body glistening with sweat and her own juices. Her legs were still spread, pussy visibly throbbing and leaking from the relentless ghostly attention she had already received. She let out a weak, hoarse laugh. “You three… are going to kill me. Death by orgasm. I can see the headline now: ‘Skeptical Girl Fucked to Death by Victorian Ghosts. Science Still Has No Explanation.’” Elias hovered above her, his handsome face glowing with dark hunger. “We’re not done with you yet, Harper. Not even close.”

From where he was standing, this looked very very bad. “I slept walked,” I still tried to explain, blurting out whatever came to mind. “It’s been happening. I swear. This wasn’t… I wasn’t... I just fall asleep sometimes and wake up at your room. Well usually not in, but outside at your door. And—” I stopped as I noticed his nostrils flaring as he was clearing taking in a scent, and his pupils dilated to twice the size they’d been. Oh shitake mushrooms! “Techka…” Nikolai murmured.

Let's have Elsa demonstrate her incredible memory for you, shall we? Mom looked at the version of me that had been turned into a machine expectantly, saying, "Go ahead, Elsa." On the livestream, the robot slowly turned its head toward the dark camera lens. Its lips moved stiffly as it began to recite a string of numbers. Then, it froze, staring straight into the camera. "Memory failure. Data corrupted." The voice that came out sounded like a damaged tape recorder. For a moment, the livestream exploded. "No way, this has to be fake. That can't be a real person!"

It was such a fucking erotic sight, and her pupils, glazed and wide, dilated as she watched the ropes of semen drop on her skin, with that large palm pumping his monstrous cock furiously. The spurts of jism hit her face, stomach and tits, until he was spent, panting for breath above her, his cock flaccid. Elena felt boneless, physically exhausted and too stunned to utter a word. That was probably the reason she didn't protest when Mikhail gathered her in his arms, And burying his face in her neck, he sucked in a deep breath, and muttered, "Sleep, Elena." Like the program he had designed, her eyes fluttered shut, sleep luring her to its web.

But, of course, the worst was that Ruth had dreamed about the murder, in detail, before it had happened. The student exhibitionist, that could have been coincidence. The rape she dreamed about, with the nurse, that wasn't confirmed, and besides, "incidents" happen all the time. Dream about a rape, there's bound to be one soon, somewhere. All the orgasms Thursday night. Well, there are probably dozens of students out screwing each other, but there's no way to know whether what she had dreamed really happened, or was going to happen. But the murder, the crushed skull and "mutilated body," the location just where she dreamed it happened, that really made a believer out of her.