Stripes Creepypasta Novels & Stories

But my thoughts were a storm, and distractions—even the temporary kind—had their uses. Music played softly from the speakers. They danced, shedding what little remained of their clothing, their bodies moving in rhythm. But my mind wasn’t on them. It was on the scorpion. On the man who thought he could crawl into my world and stake a claim to something that wasn’t his. One of the strippers crawled near me, a seductive smile on her face. I watched as she trailed her fingers around my belt, her intentions clear. My irritation built until it became unbearable.

The color drains from her face, leaving her chalk-white. “Lyra?” My voice is sharp with alarm. I pull my hand back, cupping her face. “Lyra, look at me. Come back.” She doesn’t hear me. She’s not here. She’s trapped somewhere in her mind, reliving something unspeakable. Her trembling intensifies. A low, choked sound comes from her throat, a sound of pure, animal terror. “Lyra, please!” I shake her shoulders gently. Nothing. Her eyes are wide, unblinking. They stare straight through me. Then, I see it. A thin, dark red trickle starts from the corner of her left eye. Then the right. It’s not a tear. It’s too thick. Too dark.

He whispered into the night, a ghost of a breath escaping his lips as a thick puff of smoke. Something started to shuffle underneath a frosted log and warmth began to spread through his face. Out came a scrawny, shivering stray dog with one clouded eye. It was a pathetic creature, the kind his father would have had drowned for its lack of purpose. Dimitri named him Stray, ironically. He was the only one in the manor that didn’t look at him with eyes he couldn’t read. He watched Stray gobble up the bread he had stolen from the kitchen with a desperate, frantic hunger.

Thorne shut the door behind him and slowly approached me, like a predator eyeing its prey. “W-what do you want?” I stuttered, taking a step back and he scoffed at that as he continued approaching me. “What do I want? Have you forgotten what I told you?” He was now in front of me, towering over me like a giant. “I own you, stripper, and I can do whatever I want with you.” He growled. “My name is Calista.” I said, through clenched teeth, completely furious about the fact that my body craved him so badly when all he did was insult and belittle me.

Her body trembled as a wave of panic surged through her. Suddenly, her skin began to crawl, literally. She gasped, clutching at her back, the spot where the mark had been made. It felt like something moved under her skin, like tiny, invisible tendrils were twisting beneath the surface. Cold fingers. Crawling. “Stop…” she whispered, her voice breaking. The whispers grew louder, more insistent. “YOU SHOULD SCREAM” “BURN IT DOWN.” “HE'LL NEVER SAVE YOU.”

She figured this would work to her advantage, as the old man would surely lose his mind. Gigi opened her purse and reapplied her red lipstick. She also adjusted the wig she was wearing. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she left the bathroom. She really needed to get that flash drive containing all this old man's dirty deeds so his evil could end and there would be no more victims.

I come with a guttural groan. The first rope hits Lila’s tongue. Second across Sophia’s eyes. Third into Lila’s open mouth. Fourth stripes Sophia’s cheeks. I keep going—pumping thick spurts across their foreheads, noses, chins—until both faces are absolutely glazed. Dripping. Obscene. They swallow what lands in their mouths, moaning softly. I step back. They stay there—legs spread, holes gaping, faces painted with my cum—breathing ragged. I grab my phone from the nightstand.

Trepidation crawls up my spine as it purposely creeps in my direction. Closing my eyes again, I repeat my mantra and try to calm down my breathing. “It’s not real, Zoe. It’s not real.” Taking another deep breath, I slowly open my eyes. A scream lodges in my throat as the mist rises and takes shape. I stumble back and look on in horror as it opens what looks like a mouth with sharp fangs and growls.

She remembered how Julia had told her that things looked better when the sun was up and was relieved that it seemed to be true. “Yes, I remember him,” Stephanie replied as she looked at a picture of James Leroy. “He was fun. We met at a bar and I went back to his place. I didn’t stay over, though.” She had thick, blonde curls, which framed her face. She wore tight jeans and a tank top. “I’m sorry to hear he died, but I didn’t really know him.” She looked at the officers and handed the picture back. “I was just stressed and needed a quick hook-up.” They sat in her studio apartment. There were clothes scattered throughout and dishes in the sink. She was a waitress and told them she’d been busy

Ero **** on the first date she confided in me i have a chromosomal disorder, disorder, disorder i need love and pain strangely mixed together my elixirs i suffer reality distoooorrtions a ghastly Vatican of ****** compulsions my soul is black matter my **** a seething cauldron of despicable desire my *** cries for homicidal cruelty mold me into a ******* fold me like a two dollar beach chair the wrong way tear me to bits unwind my intestine eat me like a blood ******* ghoul make me squirm like an anime victim i thought oh finally a soul mate with soul strange as a Dionysian mad hatter on hallucinogenics hot girl creeping grimacing at me meandering conjurations by ****** contortions stunning