Hidden sex in hospital

2020.10.26 05:33 Odd_directions I was found on Halloween, 1993. No one could figure out where I came from. This is my story.

On the evening of Halloween, 1993, a family on their way to Cheyenne stopped their station wagon in the middle of a desolate road after seeing a ten-year-old girl walking by herself. They had been alarmed at the sight of the kid wandering around without her parents in the middle of nowhere and wanted to give her a helping hand. The child was dressed in a Halloween costume, a skeleton to be precise, and was later described to the police as disoriented and confused. When the family asked the child what she was doing on the road all by herself, she said that she was trying to find her way back to her hometown, Ataraxia Springs. The father in the family brought out his map from the car but soon realized that there was no such town in Wyoming.
That child, walking by herself on that fateful Halloween night, was me. The events described above are well documented, and no-one is contesting the way I was found, but how I ended up on that road all by myself was never fully explained. There had been no missing children reports filed fitting my description, and they were never able to locate my parents even though I told them their full names and phone number.
All they had to go by was my own story about what happened that night. A story that they couldn’t believe. In the end, after several years of therapy, I didn’t believe it either. I accepted the fact that I had most likely been kidnapped by sex traffickers, or perhaps even been born into that horrific fate, and chosen to forget it and replace it with my own version of the truth. I was taught that when memories contradict reality, it must be the memories that are wrong and not the other way around. It made sense to me, and I slowly came to terms with the fact that my childhood memories were false.
It wasn’t until last week that I had reasons to revisit these memories of mine. Something happened that made me doubt what all those years of therapy taught me. That’s why I’ve decided to share my story once more. Partly for my own sake, just to make my memories merge with physical reality on the paper, if that makes sense, but also to reach out to others who might have experienced something similar and might also be wondering if that old, strange memory of theirs might in fact have happened after all.
Some of the details in this story are based on the diary entry that I wrote down after I had been found, but I still remember most of what happened vividly. And I remember Ataraxia Springs. It was built around an old tuberculosis sanatorium that had been closed down after the discovery of antibiotics in the late twenties. This detail was drilled into our brains during school since our town took its own history very seriously. The sanatorium itself was built across the lake beside the town, where it was still standing. The older kids had a lot of ghost stories about the rundown building, stories they loved to tell around the campfire on the beach with Ataraxia Sanatorium casting its frightening shadow on the water from the other side of the lake. Other than this piece of history, the town was your average American town.
My parents – not my foster parents, but the ones that were never found – were good to me and my older sister. They gave us a happy childhood in a nice neighborhood and as far as I can remember, if it is a memory at all, nothing was out of the ordinary. Not until that night…
Halloween was a big deal in our neighborhood, and everyone always tried to outdo each other with their costumes. This year wasn’t any different. The air was filled with excitement, and I really loved the skeleton suit my dad had bought me. My sister was a bit too old for trick-or-treating, but she had promised to do it with me so that our parents could stay home and hand out candy to the other kids (and most likely have some time to themselves).
It was all going well until my sister’s punk rocker friends showed up on their bikes. I hated them. They were Ryan, Johnny, and Ashley. They gave the neighborhood a bad reputation – or so everyone thought – and they always teased me.
“Hey, Marjorie!” Ryan shouted to my sister. “Are you babysitting tonight out of all nights?”
Ryan continued and said that they were going to the sanatorium. I don’t remember which words he used exactly, but he said something about it being the perfect night for it and that it was a shame that she had me tied around her ankle like a shackle. I was already afraid, looking up at their tall bikes at the end of the cul-de-sac, because I knew what was coming next. I looked up at my sister and grabbed her hand. Back then, I thought of her almost as an adult even though she was just a teenager. She hesitated, and there was some arguing back and forth until it was decided that she would bring me with them.
“C’mon Melissa,” she said and looked at me as my heart sunk into my belly. “What’s the worst that can happen? It will be fun for you too, just like one of the adventures in your favorite movies.”
I said no, but she told me not to be such a cry-baby. She didn’t want to miss out on her friend’s adventure, or on some quality time with Ryan. I was an inconvenience, and although my sister tried to convince me that it would be fun for me too, I remember feeling like a fifth wheel.
My sister left me with her friends for a few minutes while she sneaked into the garage to grab her bike. It felt like hours. Ryan lit a cigarette with his Zippo. I couldn’t understand what my sister saw in him. With his black mohawk, combat boots, and leather jacket with “FUCK YOU” painted on its back, he looked more like the villain in the Disney movies I loved to watch than the prince. My sister wasn’t like him at all, she was one of the popular girls at school who everybody loved and aspired to be like. And to my mind at the time, it just didn’t compute how someone as sweet as my sister could have a thing for someone like Ryan. It infuriated me. I wanted to run home and tell my mom, but I knew it would just lead to an ugly fight.
My sister put me on the carrier of her bike and told me to hold on to her. We took the shortcut through the woods, which meant a bumpier ride. The sun was already setting, and the closer it came to the horizon the faster my heart beat in my chest. Their laughter echoed between the trees, like hyenas on the hunt. I was so mad at my sister, but also at myself for letting her take me along.
The water on the lake was still this night, reflecting the dark clouds above. They left their bikes in the sand. Marjorie grabbed my hand and followed the others to the old boathouse at the edge of the beach. I tried not to look across the lake, where the sanatorium rose up from the treetops like an evil castle from the movies.
There was an old rowboat inside the boathouse. A wind was building up outside, sending small waves inside that lapped against the side of the boat. I felt a lump in my throat. Water wasn’t my element. I could swim, but if I couldn’t reach the bottom with my feet I used to panic. So, sitting in a fragile, old rowboat with a bunch of renegades didn’t sit well with me. I held my sister’s jacket as tight as I could in the boat. Ryan kicked the boat out of the house and grabbed the oars. There wasn’t that much space, and every time the boat rocked, I closed my eyes and tensed up in anticipation. Marjorie’s friends teased me when they saw how scared I was, especially Ashley.
“Many kids have drowned in this lake,” she said. “There’s something living at the bottom that feeds on little girls like you.” She laughed. “Let’s hope it’s sleeping tonight.”
“Don’t be mean,” my sister said. “I don’t believe in any of those stories.”
“There have been some strange things happening in this area, though,” Johnny said. “My dad told me that a couple went missing around the lake like twenty years ago.”
I didn’t want to hear about it. He sounded serious; not like he was teasing. I looked at my sister to see if she believed him, but I couldn’t tell. And then Johnny continued:
“They were never found.”
“Maybe they just decided to ditch this boring town,” Ryan said with a smirk.
“Sure,” Johnny said, “but their disappearance isn’t the strangest thing about this… While they searched for them, they found this old, naked dude wandering around in the forest who claimed he was the guy who had disappeared. He was taken in as a suspect since he was way too old to be that guy. They never got any answers from him, though. He hung himself in his cell before they could question him. My dad was the one who found him hanging from the top of the bunk.”
We reached the other side of the lake, just beneath the sanatorium. It smelled old seaweed and rotten eggs. Decaying reed crunched under our feet as we stepped ashore. A couple of ducks flew away, scared by our presence. I held my sister’s hand. The sky was covered in heavy clouds, and a rumble spread among them. This was the first time any of us stepped foot on the other side of the lake, and I could see that my sister was afraid as well even though she tried to hide it behind her exaggerated smiles toward Ryan. He lit another cigarette.
“Let’s go,” he said. “I’ve always been curious about this place.”
We followed him up an overgrown road. Something rustled in the bushes. I asked my sister what it was, hoping she would calm my nerves, but instead Ryan answered:
“There are ghouls hiding in there, so don’t go too close.”
“Don’t listen to him,” my sister said, “it’s just birds.”
But I was already terrified. It wasn’t just the scary noises, but the entire atmosphere around this place. It just didn’t feel right. Something in the air felt off. Ordinary things came off as strangely unfamiliar; the leaves on the ground seemed too large, the trees too tall and the sky too vicious.
The courtyard was covered in gravel, but there was dead grass sprouting up from it here and there. Slowly, we approached the stairs to the entrance.
“Can’t we go back now?” I asked my sister in a whisper. “Do we have to go inside?”
The doors were locked. Ryan pulled at them as hard as he could, hoping that the old doors wouldn’t stand a chance against his strength. But they wouldn’t move an inch. It made me relieved, but Ryan was relentless. He insisted on trying to find another way inside. We walked around the building, struggling through the brushy terrain, until we found a small rusty door at the other side. The purpose behind this door was difficult to figure out since it was almost completely inaccessible. To my great disappointment, it was open.
As soon as we closed the door behind us, the thunder outside intensified in an instant and hard rain banged on the door. Ryan lit his Zippo, revealing a small corridor inside a large cellar. The cold air smelled musty. There was graffiti on the walls, dating back a long time by the looks of it. Ryan slowly moved his lighter across the wall, reading a text that had been sprayed on it with a blood-red color: “If you closed the door, it’s already too late.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Johnny said.
Ashely, scared for the first time this night, tried to open the door again but it wouldn’t budge.
“C’mon guys, I can’t get it open!” she said, just as if she suddenly sensed some kind of danger. “Help me out, would you?!”
Ryan and Johnny joined her, but no matter how much they tried the door remained closed.
“Marjorie?” I looked up at my sister. “What’s happening? I’m afraid.”
“I-I don’t know, I–”
“It was unlocked just moments ago!” Ashely yelled.
Everyone was freaking out, yelling at each other, until Ryan raised his voice:
“Enough!” He paused to make sure everyone was quiet. “Let’s just find a way up to the main entrance and exit from there… worst-case scenario we climb out one of the windows. Jesus, relax!”
My sister relaxed her grip around my hand, clearly calmed down by Ryan’s words.
“I have a really bad feeling about this place,” Ashley said. “I don’t know, it just washed over me like a fucking tsunami… this strange feeling of, I don’t know… just a scary feeling.”
“…of dread?” my sister asked with a shaky voice. “I felt it too.”
“You’re all getting worked up about nothing,” Ryan said. “Get it together!”
“It’s all your fault!” I said. “You shouldn’t tell us what to do. This was your stupid idea.”
“Shut up, Melissa,” my sister said, blushing from embarrassment.
“What?” I said. “Mom is right, your friends have a bad influence on you.”
“Shut up!” my sister yelled. “My god, Melissa.”
Ryan laughed. “It’s okay,” he said. “She’s just scared.”
“Mom’s suck,” Johnny added with a smile, but still shaken up just like the rest of us. “I hate my mom. She’s always telling me what to and how to dress and what to think and whatnot.”
I crossed my arms in anger at their attitudes that had clearly gotten us into trouble. “Well, if you listened to your mom maybe you wouldn’t be trapped here, would you?”
"We aren't trapped!" Ryan said and led the way through the dark corridor.
It felt like we walked around the cellar for more than an hour without finding a staircase, and when we did it didn’t lead to the main floor but rather to the floor above it. It didn’t make any sense. We came to a ward filled with old beds. The windows were large but too high up for any of us to reach them. In that sense, the room reminded me of the church downtown. The windows vibrated for every lightning strike outside. Johnny pointed to one of the beds. Unlike the others, it wasn’t empty. We approached it carefully. My sister covered my eyes when we came close enough to see what it was, but their scared voices and Ashley’s screams told me all I needed to know.
“…she must’ve been dead for decades,” Johnny said. “I mean, the body is mummified.”
“Oh my God!” It was Ashely. “She’s wearing my watch!”
“Your watch? It’s a coincidence, I mean–” Ryan said but was interrupted by Ashely.
“What does it mean?! Why the fuck is she wearing my watch?!”
“We need to get out of here,” my sister said. “It’s a dead person, we need to call the–”
“Where did the lower part of the body go?” Johnny said. “Looks like it was ripped–”
“No, no, no,” Ashely cried. “It’s not a coincidence, it’s my watch.”
“But you’re still wearing it!” Ryan said. “Marjorie is right, I think we need to report this.”
We left the room, all scared to the bones.
“I know I’m wearing my watch, but her watch had the exact same crack on the glass and everything… I know it doesn’t make any goddamn sense, but that was my fucking watch.” She cried, holding on to Johnny. “What does it mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Ryan said. “It was just a freaking coincidence!”
We kept trying to find a way out, but the inside of the building was like a maze. My legs ached after walking so much. Another terror erupted from my core and spread out to my skin in the form of a cold shiver. By now, I understood, our parents must have begun to worry, maybe even gone out to look for us. I felt bad for having disobeyed them, and I feared their punishment even though they would probably just ground me for a week. Had I known that I would never see them again, I would probably have felt something else entirely.
We took some rest inside a small library that must have been used by the patients back in the day. The shelves were still filled with books, but they had all decayed over the decades. I sat down next to my sister on what had once been a luxuries divan.
“Are we in danger?” I asked. “Are we going to die?”
“No,” my sister said. “It just looks scary, there’s no one here, we just need to find–”
“What’s this?” Ashley said, now a bit calmer than before. “It’s beautiful.” She removed a newspaper from the floor and picked up a golden sphere the size of a cannonball. “It’s pretty heavy. If it’s real gold it must be worth a fortune!”
We all placed ourselves around her and watched our reflections in the shiny surface of the sphere, transfixed by its perfection. That’s when we heard a crash from further up the hallway outside of the library, followed by a scraping sound just as if something large was being dragged over the floor. I froze in fear when I heard that it was moving in our direction.
“What the hell is that?” Johnny said. “Ryan, go and check it out.”
Ryan hesitated, unable to decide if to be brave or listen to his instincts. He gave my sister a quick look, and she shook her head as if to tell him not to go. The most horrifying sound I’ve ever heard came from whatever was slithering through the hallway. It sounded like an oversized pigeon, but also like the snickering from an old witch.
“Dude, I’m sorry,” Ryan said, “there’s no way in hell I’m going out there.”
We retreated to the next room, a recreational room with a pool table. Ashley still held the gold sphere in her hands. Another crash, just outside. It sounded like the entire door and some of the walls to the library had been completely destroyed. The cooing and the snickering intensified. There was excitement behind it, the same kind of excitement you would expect from a starving hag in a fairy tale who’s just about to feast on an innocent child.
We were all standing behind Ryan, looking into the library. A shadow appeared on the floor, followed by an enormous, gray hand with black claw-like nails. We all screamed in unison and backed up against the pool table, but there was nowhere to go from here. The hand grabbed the floorboards and dragged whatever body it was attached to closer to our room. I was so scared that my knees were shaking. The menacing cooing was so loud now that I had to put my trembling fingers in my ears. My sister repeated the prayers she so reluctantly told in church. There were tears in her eyes. Another giant hand, dragging its body even closer, but still not into view outside the room.
“Help me out!” Ryan said.
He picked up a few books from the floor and lit them on fire with his lighter. Johnny joined him. I’m sure my sister would’ve helped as well, but she had to take care of me. Ashley dropped the sphere and hid behind the pool table, crying hysterically. Slowly, the monster dragged itself into view. My sister released a guttural scream. I wanted to look away, but I was paralyzed by fear. The creature faced us. It was nothing more than a giant, saggy head that pulled itself forward with its long arms that were attached to its temples. A few long strands of black hair grew on top of it and it had a long, crooked nose above its terrifying mouth. It was enough to make it the most dreadful thing I’ve ever seen, but what made it even worse were its eyes; two enormous, expressionless golden spheres. We could see our own reflections in them. It went coo-coo-coo and licked its gray lips with its black tongue. It was just about to stick its arms inside the doorframe and rip it apart when Ryan and Johnny began throwing the burning books at it. It backed away, screaming like an oversized infant.
“Come on!” Ryan called out. “Let’s go!”
My sister picked me up in her arms. We ran past the monster while it was still deflecting the flames, but Ashley was too late. The second she appeared in the door, she was grabbed by the legs and pulled into the mouth of the monster. She cried out for help in a state of utter panic. The sharp, large teeth cut through her legs. The crunch when they went through her bones were blood-chilling to hear. Johnny stepped forward and grabbed Ashley’s hands. He pulled until the threads still attached to her legs separated. We dragged her into the hallway, leaving a trail of blood on the floor, and continued into another ward. Ryan and Johnny put her in a bed. She was still alive. The old sheets quickly turned red from the blood pouring out from beneath her waist.
“We’re back,” she said. “Ca-can’t you see?”
Johnny cried at the bedside. “No, we’ll get you to a hospital.”
The cooing echoed through the hallway.
“N-no,” Ashley said. “This is it for me… I-I love you. Now… go.”
Johnny kissed her face as she lost consciousness. “No, no, no… Don’t– I love you too.”
“I’m sorry,” my sister said. “But it’s almost here. We have to get the fuck out of here!”
The monster spat something out that landed with a bang outside the door. It was one of the golden spheres. Coo-coo – mmm! – coo-coo. It sounded hungry. We ran for our lives. More hallways, more staircases, more wards and offices. But no exit. However impossible it may sound; the building was bigger on the inside than on the outside.
The cooing died out behind us. We slowed down. My sister put me down on the ground and let me walk by myself. She was too tired to carry me any further.
“This place goes on forever,” Johnny said. “It’s a nightmare. There’s no end to it. That text on the wall, it was right. Too late! We’re just running in circles. Going back in time?! My god, Ashley… It was really her that we saw.”
“There’s a way out,” Ryan said. “We just haven’t found it yet.”
“What’s wrong with this place?” my sister said. “It’s like the laws of nature don’t apply here, and that horrible thing back there. Are there more of them? It’s must have come straight out of hell! It spat one of those balls out, did you see that?”
“Hell is a place on Earth,” Ryan said. He tried to lit a cigarette, but his hands were shaking too much. “Those golden spheres looked like its eyes…Perhaps they’re eyes too. It spat them out to see further, you know. It appeared when we found the first one, and it sped up after it had spit out the second one.”
I screamed.
“What is it?!” my sister asked.
“Bugs!” I said. “Look, around that crack.”
Hundreds of them were crawling around a crack in the floor, small black beetles with green spots on their backs. I hated bugs.
“It’s okay,” my sister said. “Just don’t step on them.”
“I’ve never seen any bug like that before,” I said.
We moved forward until we came to an empty swimming pool. Several golden spheres lay at the bottom of it, shining in a strange moonlight coming in through the windows at the other end of the room. The faint cooing started as soon as we saw them, now coming from several different directions. I cried, but not because of the cooing. I was seeing something in the corner of the ceiling, a black shadow that slowly unfolded itself.
“There are more of those heads,” Johnny said. “Can you hear it?”
“What is that?” Ryan said as soon as he saw the shadow.
One leg after another extended out of the shadow until eight long, monstrous legs had appeared out of its body like an enormous spider. We ran next to the pool to get to the exit at the other end of the room. The spider quickly came down from its hiding spot, climbed down the pool, and continued toward us. The legs weren’t attached to a body of their own, but to the back of a decaying human body. I screamed for my sister to pick me up, but there wasn’t any time for that. I had to run, faster than I had ever run before.
“Holy shit!” Johnny said. “Oh, God no!”
The spider was just about to pierce me with one of its legs when we entered the door, which fortunately was too small for the spider to enter.
“Holy fuck, that was close!” Ryan said as we ran further away from the swimming pool.
“No, no, no,” Johnny continued, tears forming in his eyes. “How is this possible? It can’t be!”
“At least we got away from it in time,” Ryan said. “Let’s hope we won’t end up back–”
“It’s not that!” Johnny said. “The body…” He cried now. “The dead body attached to those fucking legs… It was wearing my jacket. Oh, God… No!”
“Maybe it doesn’t have to happen like that,” my sister said. “Maybe we can avoid it.”
“It didn’t work out so well for Ashley, did it?” Johnny said. “And besides, how do you avoid something like that? We don’t know how it could happen in the first place!”
“Calm down,” Ryan said. “Let’s stay focused on the here and now, okay? I’m feeling a breeze, are you feeling it too?”
He was right. We all felt it. Thinking it was an exit, we ran in the direction of its source. But it wasn’t a way out, at least not the one we had been looking for. We came to a large balcony with open doors, looking out over an unimaginable view.
“I told you,” my sister said as we stepped onto the balcony. “We’re in hell!”
In front of us, a landscape made out of living flesh and bones spread out all the way to the horizon beneath a scarlet sky. The ground itself was moving as if it was breathing, and the leafless trees moved their branches like tentacles. Enormous creatures walked across the surface, fighting each other, and the flesh of the screaming birds above us was exposed to the weather. A strong scent of rotting meat and brimstone filled the warm winds. Slowly, a dark gas giant with violet clouds rose to the sky like a black sun, and the monsters howled excitedly to the sight of it.
“I don’t know about hell,” Ryan said. “But it definitely isn’t Earth!”
Millions of bugs erupted from large pores in the ground, swarming in front of the colossal planet climbing the sky. A few of them landed on the balcony. It was the same type of bugs we had seen earlier. And then Johnny sneezed, followed by what looked like a panic attack.
“Fuck!” he said. “It crawled into my nose!”
“Seriously?” Ryan asked.
“I can still feel it crawling around inside my sinus,” Johnny said while trying to blow it out through his nose. “Help me, please, I think it’s eating its way–” He sounded dizzy.
“Let’s get back inside,” Ryan said, even though we were already running back.
We didn’t get far until Johnny fell down on the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. My sister picked me up, knowing full well what was about to happen, but Ryan sat down next to Johnny and tried to help him in whatever way he could. But there wasn’t any hope for Johnny. The convulsions turned into jerks and jolts erupting from his back. Ryan stood up, pale from the sight of his best friend shaking uncontrollably in front of him. After about a minute, the seizure stopped abruptly. Johnny opened his eyes, a bit groggy.
“W-what happened?” he said. “Why am I on the floor?”
“Are you okay, man?” Ryan said, smiling. “I thought you were going to die!”
My sister wasn’t convinced and took a few steps back with me.
“Yeah,” Johnny said, smiling back and trying to get back up on his feet, “I feel fine, but that was a wild–” A sudden jolt spread through his body. “Wait…”
And then he screamed. He touched his back. It was covered in blood. He screamed again, much louder now. I heard his jacket being torn apart from the inside, and a slimy spider leg grew out from his back. He begged us to help him as his face twisted in pain, but there was nothing we could do. Ryan backed up to my sister, grabbing her hand. The process was quick. One leg after the other shot out from Johnnys back as he was screaming. He tried to crawl away, but the legs wouldn’t let him. Instead, they stood up, carrying Johnny above the ground.
“Help me!” he said as the legs began walking away with him. “No, don’t let it happen – please! – help me.” The legs walked away from us with him, and none of us dared to do anything. “I’m still alive,” he cried, “there must be a way.” The legs climbed up the wall and walked into another hallway. “No!” we heard Johnny yell as he struggled, fruitlessly trying to grab the wall with his fingernails. “Please, no!” We stood frozen in our places until his screams faded out completely, leaving us with a faint echo of his last words between his sobs: “Mom, I’m scared! Mom!”
It wasn’t until the cooing increased that we began moving again. Standing still was a death sentence in this place. My sister kept me close to her, and herself close to Ryan. We reached a small room with an old piano standing against one of the walls. It was a dead-end, but there was something going on behind the piano that my sister insisted on investigating. A flickering light, bright and warm like sunbeams. My sister sat down next to the piano and tried to see what it was.
“It’s a way out!” she said. “I can’t see where it leads, but it smells like the outside!”
“Oh, really?!” I said, happiness spreading to my body. “Can we finally get out of–”
Something heavy bounced against the floor outside the room and slowly rolled into view in the door opening. My relief was immediately replaced by dread. It was one of the golden spheres.
“Help me move the piano!” my sister said. “Now, Ryan!”
I looked at them struggling with it. The monster dragged itself closer and closer while snickering and cooing louder and louder. I screamed when it appeared in front of me. Ryan and my sister used all of their strength to push the piano up to the door, blocking it. It wouldn’t last long, but perhaps long enough. My sister returned to me, but Ryan wasn’t so lucky. The monster reached above the piano with its long arm and grabbed him. He didn’t have much time to speak, and he knew it. He picked his word carefully. Perhaps he hadn’t said them before.
“I love you, Marjorie.”
I looked up at my sister and her trembling lips in an attempt at avoiding the sight of him being pulled out into the hallway and eaten, but I could still hear it loud and clear.
The hole in the wall wasn’t so much a hole as an unstable rift in reality. There was a forest on the other side, but just for a few seconds before it changed into a desert that in turn changed into a beach. The beast outside pushed the piano into the room. There was no time to think. My sister picked me up and threw me through the rift. I landed on a forest floor, but not the one we had seen at first because in this forest it was dark outside. I saw the rift floating in the air. My sister was just about to jump through it – the monster’s hand reaching for her – when the rift vanished.
I stumbled through the woods until I came to the road, trying to find my way home to Ataraxia Springs. The rest is history. As I said: over the years they convinced me that my story was nothing more than a manufactured memory, made in a subconscious attempt at coping with some trauma. But something happened, and now I think that the coping strategy might actually have been to let myself be convinced this never happened. Last week I received a letter. It wasn’t sent by mail but delivered by a middle-aged man who claimed that he had found it among his great-great grandmother’s things somewhere in Paris. I sat down at my kitchen table and looked at the envelope. “To be delivered to my sister, Melissa Johansson, in case she’s ever found after I’m gone.” I opened the envelope with shaking hands. It was dated 1970. Tears ran down my face as I read it. It told the story of a teenage girl who had mysteriously appeared in Wyoming in 1889, claiming to come from a small town called Ataraxia Springs. She had gone on to live an adventurous and fulfilling life; surviving two world wars and seeing civilization go from horse and carriages to men landing on the moon. She had married, had a son that she named Ryan, and spent the rest of her life in Europe.
“She was known for searching for her sister,” the man said, “but she never told anyone this. I thought it was fiction or the result of a well-hidden mental illness, but when I found the old reports of a young girl in Wyoming telling people she came from a little town known as Ataraxia Springs… Well, it can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
By now I was crying my eyes out. But it was bittersweet tears. This meant I would never see Marjorie again, but it also meant that she survived that horrible night and that she lived a good life. The letter ended: “All these years, and I still think of you every day. I miss you.” And between my sobs, I whispered: “I miss you too."
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2020.10.25 15:46 Joker_ERP Hidden sex in hospital

Hey there! Today I’ve got a massive list of rp ideas and have written out some starters along with some ideas to how I see the rp going. I’m open to change and ready to do other ideas too. So if you feel like you’ve got an idea I might be interested in feel free to talk to me about those: ).
As for my replies. I write in first person mainly and my reply length varies. I generally do anything from a few sentences to a paragraph or more and generally require my partner to do the same. Fair warning the less detail you reply with the less interested I’ll be in rping with you. (Not looking for a few words as a response)
I enjoy having a story to go along with the smut so it’s not just constant sex, some cute or action driven moments are fun as well. – Hand holding and cute dates are pleasant! I mainly do my rps on kik, discord or here. I also have an RP facebook account, so feel free to ask for my users for those! : )
My kinks and limits list might be a big read, but none are compulsory. I’m just here to have fun and hopefully meet some cool rp partners : )
Kinks: Harems (Which might be obvious with my post), Incest, Outercourse (Which is stuff like titjobs, thigh jobs, grinding, hot dogging) Risky public spaces (Toilet stalls, changing booths. That kinda thing where people could get caught.) Facials, Freckles (Face and body). Big/nicely shaped bums (Especially if they jiggle). Creampies, Cum on tits/body, big cumshots, Thigh high socks. showewater sex (pools, shower, hot tubs ect.) Mutual desire for sex.
Limits: Pregnancy (Hard limit sorry), Vomit, Piss, Blood, Toilet stuff, Rape, Gangbangs (Unless it’s multiple females) Male on Male, futas, rimming/pegging.
There might be more that I’m forgetting so if you’re unsure feel free to ask me! The rougher side of sex like Name calling, slapping choking spanking I can all do as well! : ) Without further ado let’s jump into the starters!
Here's the basic list of ideas if you wanted to look them over before reading the full posts. I’m also open to some ideas that I may have missed!
Rule 34/Fandom ideas: Idea 1: My Harem (Hero) Academia. Idea 2: Pokemon Idea 3: Naruto Idea 4: Bleach Idea 5: Avatar The Last Airbender Idea 6: Persona (Girls from 4 and 5) Idea 7: Harry Potter.
OC Ideas: Idea 8: Fantasy harem adventure. Idea 9: Only Man of the town. Idea 10: Zombie and Nuclear Apocalypse. Idea 11: Scifi space crew.
Incest Ideas: Idea 12: Brother sisteMother son (Or both). Idea 13: Aunt/Cousin. (Can be both) Idea 14: Incest family vacation.
Idea 1: My Harem (Hero) Academia.
(So my character will be a transfer into Class 1-A. His power is the power of persuasion. With the power he’s able to convince someone to do something as if it’s their own will. However, he’s hesitant to use it on other people and to tell everyone he even has it as he’s been outcast at his last school for the villainous nature of his quirk. As such he can’t use it to its full extent and can only issue small commands to begin with.
My idea with this is that one or more (cannon or non) of the girls decide to help him out in a private setting and overtime it gets more and more sexual in nature. And as he becomes more confident, he’s able to issue more longer-term commands. This can also be mixed in well with some story and some action to keep the plot interesting.)
Starter: It was a day which started like most others in Class 1-A. The students got ready in the dorms and headed to class to chat among themselves while they waited for Aizawa to enter. However, unlike most days there seemed to be an extra desk placed in the room. The seat caused some confusion which didn’t last long as the first bell rang and Aizawa entered the room.
“Morning everyone.” He stated in his mainly bored and sleepy tone which seemed to sound like he was stifling a yawn. “Today we’ve got a new student transferring in from another school. He’s from Shiketsu, some of you may recognize the name since it’s got the same level as prestige as U.A. but regardless make sure he feels welcome.” He said pointing a sweeping stare at everyone and finally resting on the problem child of the U.A class Bakugo.
With that he fell silent and I felt it was my cue to enter. Swallowing a little at the nerves I steeled them quickly and entered. My blue eyes sweeping over some of the familiar faces in the room. Many of the students had standout performances in the UA sports festival and as well in the news reports about the villain attack on the training camp.
I had a lot to live up to if I wanted to join these legends in training but regardless, I was determined to do just that. Breathing a little and shifting my auburn hair from my eyes I smiled the best I could. “My name is Schwarzer, Chris Schwarzer. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” I say bowing to the class.
Satisfied with the introduction Aizawa nodded to the spare seat in the room. Taking that as an order I nodded back and headed over to my seat sitting down and getting my books out. Curiously I turned to the seat next to me noticing one of the girls in the class and gave her a slight smile as Aizawa began his lesson.
Idea 2: Pokemon: (So this one is super simple. Some trainers or a trainer and his Pokémon go on a grand adventure. For this one my favourite Canon female are: Marnie, May, Hilda and May. And my favourite Anthro Pokémon are Lopunny, Arcanine, Blaiziken That’s just for reference though and you can really play whoever you like!)
Trainer x Trainer Starter:
I like many others in the world of Pokémon have just started on my journey. Although I had done so a little late. Regardless me and my starter Pokémon Aipom which was a gift from my late father. Setting off with excitement to make a name of myself.
That excitement wore off pretty quickly however as an advanced trainer stepped in my path and soon, I realized how big the gap between us was. He wiped the floor with my aipom and laughed as he took my “Prize money” Scooping up my aipom I rushed through the rest of the route and over to the next town ducking quickly into the Pokémon centre.
Looking around there was a few new trainers who seemed to have fallen to the same fate as I had and I shook my head. Guys like that were total assholes and without hesitating I headed over to the counter where the nurse took my Aipom from me. Once he was gone, I was told there was going to be a short wait due to the amount of Pokémon they had to treat. I nodded as I headed over and sat down in one of the seats.
Trainer x Anthro Pokemon Starter. (So similar to the starter above, rather than having a trainer my character goes on adventures with it’s a Pokémon. Just being transparent that there’s NO circumstances that I’ll do feral, I’m looking for ANTHRO Pokémon only!)
A little way into my journey and I’ve heard reports of a rare Pokémon deep in the surrounding forest. Not wanting to miss the chance to catch it I braved the depths of the forest keeping an eye out for the Pokémon.
Soon I came across a large clearing with a rock. On top was the Pokémon in question no doubt about it. It was strangely human in appearance and without hesitating I sent out my Pokémon. An Aipom. “Alright buddy tackle!” I whispered. Aipom nodded as it charged out of the clearing and threw its body towards the Pokémon in question.
Idea 3: Naruto ( So for this one I like the idea that my character is a young nomadic mercenary hired by the leaf to help train the ninja of the village, maybe he also has some kind of hidden power that boosts his chakra but also increases his libido. Not too sure how I wanna go about this one. )
Starter: The Hokage Tsunade Senju looked over me with a curious gaze and then down to my application form. “You’re younger than I expected given everything you’ve done.” She stated honestly. “But the intelligence division did a thorough search into you and you check out.” She stated as she slammed the approved stamp down onto my paper.
“Just remember, if you do anything to endanger this village, I’ll snuff you out personally.” She said in an icy and threatening tone. Feeling a cold bead of sweat roll down the side of my face I nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.” I say. Internally I make a mental note not to cross her in any way. “Good.” She said putting a smile across her features. “Your first group is down on the training field waiting for you already.” She stated. “Your lodgings will be set up by the time you’re done, here’s the key.” She said tossing the key to me which I caught and stuffed into my pocket. I was a little shocked with how quick she wanted me to get to work but I nodded. “Right!” I say giving a respectful bow before heading out.
It took me a little longer than expected to actually find the training grounds as I hadn’t ever been here before. And when I got there much to her credit there were a few ninja standing around. Approaching them I gave them a sheepish smile. “Sorry I’m late guys.” I called out. “I got lost.” I added on.
Idea 4: Bleach ( So a new human soul reaper makes it into the soul society. His power isn’t captain level to begin with simply being enough to take out the average hollow. And with the resurgence of the hollow threat the Soul Society has offered to give him a substitute badge to take out those hollows deemed too small for the soul society to handle. Maybe he’s paired up with someone or someone like Orihime steps in to help him grow. )
Starter: Another boring day at school followed by a night of boring patrols. With all the big hollows being taken care of by “Full-fledged” Soul reapers it didn’t leave me with much opportunity to train against bigger enemies.
At least that’s what I thought originally. A few blocks from me there was a rift which opened up and the pure spiritual pressure that came from the hollow that stepped out of it was enough to make me feel as though gravity itself was pushing against me.
It was hard to breathe and even harder to stand as my hand clutched my blade in my left hand tightly. I shook my head as I heard the loud roar of the large breast and could even see it’s towering form from my position.
It was nothing close to a menos, but it was enough to tower over a three-story building for sure. “Shit.” I hissed to myself as I knew there were no soul reapers around at this stage. With a threat this big I was sure they’d come, but until then it was up to me to buy some time and make sure no humans or souls were consumed.
Pushing myself forward I reached the park that the Hollow had appeared in. Thankfully the park was deserted at this time of night. When he saw me the hollow. “You don’t smell like much, but you’ll do as a snack.” The hollow commented as it charged forward. “Just evade, buy time.” I comment to myself as I began to leap around the battle field looking a bit like and feeling like an idiot.
The hollow toyed with me a little while enjoying the chase before it seemed to ger bored. Just when I was thinking I was fast enough to keep avoiding it the creature’s mouth opened and its forked tongue shot out at me with faster speed than I was anticipating I raised my blade to defend myself but it was a feeble attempt and I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
Idea 5: Avatar The Last Airbender ( So for this one I guess it can go two different ways. My fave girls from Avatar would probably be Ty Lee, Suki and Toph. Maybe my character is a powerful bender that either the fire nation or team Avatar wants on their side. I think it might be cool to think that Aang isn’t the only airbender and instead a small faction managed to escape and continue the lineage. Either that or my character is a powerful firebender of some kind. I’ll leave whichever you prefer to you in your first reply as I’ll leave it open ended.)
Starter: The world was at war ever since the Fire nation attacked. With the intense fighting came mercenaries. Freelance benders or soldiers ready to fight on either side. For a fee of course. And despite my age, being only eighteen I was quite renown amongst the other bounty hunters for my bending.
Of course, there were talks of the Avatar returning, having repelled an invasion in the south pole, the liberation of Omashu and then the fire nation prison. It seemed they were making quite the stir in the earth kingdom.
It’d only be a matter of time before they reached the small town, I was in. Perhaps they were already here. But if that was the case surely there would be some kind of stir. Pushing my hair from my face I ordered another drink from the barkeep. “You know you’re my favourite customer Schwarzer…. You’re the only one who consistently pays his tab. Unlike the rest of these soldiers or the workers around here.” The older man says in clear annoyance.
“Well who knows, if I wasn’t so successful, I’d probably mooch off you too.” I admitted with a grin. “Try not to talk too ill of the soldiers on either side.” I added on flicking him an extra coin for a tip once my drink was finished. “Well I better check if anyone has a job for me.” I say as I pushed myself up from my seat.
Idea 6: Persona ( So basically this is just gonna be a fairly interesting idea. My character along with the girls of persona 4 and 5 get stranded in this strange dimension where they have to fight their way out to make it back to their own worlds. )
Starter: It all happened so fast. One minute I was in a team meeting with my group discussing what we should use our newfound powers for next. And the next second, I had blinked and I was in some kind of strange room.
One by one more people were added into this room. Some of which were dressed in some elaborate costumes. And I frowned as I looked to each one of them, all of which I didn’t recognize at all and judging by their looks they didn’t recognize me. Although before we managed to introduce ourselves a booming voice broke the silence.
“Welcome all!” The clearly male voice commented. “To the room of my design.” He added on. “I’m sure you’re all confused. And no doubt you’ll want to return back to your homes. However, to do so you’ll need to enter my labyrinth. “Make it to the end and you’ll all return home.” The voice explained.
“Of course, this maze isn’t without its dangers. Enemies, much like you encounter on a regular basis will roam these halls. As well as beasts of my own design far stronger than those… Fear no though for every check point you reach this room will become more furnished with amenities. For now, you simply have beds to rest on.” He said as there was an audible click and the dark room was suddenly lit up. Sure, enough there were rows of beds all lined up one for each person to sleep on.
“When you’re ready to test yourselves step through this door and enter the first level of the labyrinth.” He declared as a large door appeared and opened up in front of them. For a while nobody said anything probably all too stunned to even process the information. “So, I’m guessing we’re all persona users given what he just said.” I spoke up. “I guess we should probably start with names and strengths, right?” I questioned the group. “I’m Chris Schwarzer.” I say. “My persona Serapth focuses on ranged combat.” I explained.
Idea 7: Harry Potter ( So to keep this one interesting I’m thinking of having it set in an AU where Voldemort and Harry don’t exist. However, there are still dark wizards who are part of a cult around. Defs looking for a Hermionie, Luna or Ginny, you could even have other celebs/ecelebs as teachers or students for this one! )
Starter: Another year at Hogwarts, the last for some; and another year of learning was right around the corner. Although times were not peaceful in the wizarding world. Aurors who were the police of the magical world were going missing or showing up dead.
The ministry not wanting to make a panic kept it fairly under wraps, however some of the families have come forward with the information and rumours abounded about what was really happening. Stepping off the train I sighed a little rubbing my temple where a headache had begun to set in. During the train ride here, I found myself stuck next to a boy who wouldn’t stop going on about the rumours and conspiracy theories.
Glad to be off the train I looked around for a minute lost as to where I needed to go. “I know it’s around here somewhere.” I commented, although my sense of direction was always off. Usually I followed everyone else. But this time it seemed I was one of the last ones off the train.
Idea 8: Fantasy harem adventure. (This one is fairly basic in nature. Basically, a young man with little combat experience leaves his poor hunting village once he’s of age and sets off to join the adventurer’s guild to make a name for himself and also to send money back home. He’s fairly modest, naive and kind hearted. Which makes him likable and easy to take advantage of.
We could add a story with war elements, racism and darker themes to show him that the world he idolizes isn’t as cracked up as he thought it’d be. Ideally, I’d like a full harem party for this one but I’m cool with one on one too.)
Starter: It had been a few days since I was finally able to leave the small village, I was raised in behind me. Sword on hip and keen to become an adventurer. Of course, I also wanted to make a name for myself and I was even more excited to see everything the world had to offer. With driving me forward I headed from my village over to the closest city which had a guild branch. A city called Ruan. It was nearly five times the size of my village if not more and yet it was nothing close to the capital city of Grancel.
Smooth dirt paths soon gave way to cobblestone and my boots clacked rhythmically against the pavement as my steps soon got faster and faster as Ruan came into view. My stomach was in knots as I gripped the straps on my bag tightly and after steeling my nerves and taking in the sight of the large city, I headed through the large stone arch to the busy streets beyond.
My excited eyes looked around at every nook and cranny as I took in every detail that was on offer. Soon coming across the large marble and wood building of the adventurer’s guild in front of me. I stood in front of the large building clearly awestruck and for a moment I felt completely overwhelmed. This was it. This was the first step I was going to take on my journey and yet I felt far too nervous to head inside. Instead I stood there shaking slightly as I tried to work up the courage to push those large oak doors aside and declare my presence to the world.
Idea 9: Man of the town. (So again the premise is also pretty basic. My character wakes up in a town where there’s no men, as if they all vanished at once. Including his father which leaves him home alone with his sister and mother. (It’s up to you if you want incest in the plot or not.) We can have a story with an element of mystery to it too if you want! Or we can just bounce around the town having him bonk as many different people as you want. )
Starter: It’s been a few weeks since all the men in the town vanished one day. One day they were there and the next they were gone. There was of course a panic even though it is much calmer than originally, it continues to creep in the back of everyone’s mind. It doesn’t help the fact that no outsiders have come into the town and some strange thick fog seems to stop everyone from leaving.
However, with no answers it was left to the women of the town to pick up the slack and try to push for some level of normalcy. Except for me it seemed. Since the whole act started, I was in lockdown not being free to leave my home since my mother and sister was much too paranoid that I’d disappear too. With the amount of time I spent indoors going stir crazy I began to wonder if it was better to be wherever the rest of them are.
Today was different though and finally I was given the chance to leave the house while my mother was careless and rather quickly, I headed out into the street just glad to take in the scenery as I headed over to a nearby park. I headed over the soft grass feeling it beneath my shoes and then to the pond where I took a seat on one of the mounted benches.
Idea 10: Zombie and Nuclear Apocalypse. (Not a whole lot to say here other than it’s one of your run of the mill Zombie/Nuclear apocalypse scenarios. I might toy with the idea of having multiple zombie types like games such as Dying light and Left for dead in order to spice things up a little but we’ll see where we go with it. As for nuclear I’ll probably be following along the Fallout franchise. Being part of these worlds will probably make my character a bit more brash, blunt and even a little rude. However, given some time he’ll warm up.)
Zombie Starter: No one knows quite when the outbreak started, however it swept over the globe causing panic. People eating people. People dying and coming back to life as a shambling corpse joining the armies of similar creatures. Society crumbled over time and the cities which were now hot zones for hordes of the undead creatures were left abandoned to all but the most daring or desperate of individuals. However, these rabid hordes weren’t the only thing to look out for in the apocalypse.
Society had begun to reform in its most primal form. People grouped together for safety. Those who just wanted to live peacefully became easy prey for those who saw the end of the world as we knew it as a playground to kill pillage and steal what they’d like. These bandits created their own factions with their own fortresses and seemed to have an endless supply of guns and ammo as they used it quite liberally.
I had been on the trail of a particularly nasty group of bandits as they razed whatever small settlements, they had to the ground callously and without mercy. I had just arrived at one of these towns. Dying people lay scattered about while fires licked at the makeshift buildings. It was still quite fresh. Approaching a nearby body which seemed to be moving slightly I turned it over the man was in bad shape and was clearly on death’s door. His eyes looking into mine in a pleading sense.
“Do you want me to make it quick?” I asked him reaching my left hand down to my machete which hung on my belt. Weakly his hand reached out to grip my right as he gave a nod. I knew the death wouldn’t be clean, as I unsheathed my blade. However, I couldn’t waste any ammo on my pistol nor could I risk tipping off the bandits that did this that I was following them. With a quick swing I slammed the blade into the head of the man ending his life and after wiping the blade off on his shirt I slid it back into its sheath my eyes scanning the immediate area for any of the undead which had turned or for a slim chance of getting a glimpse of survivors.
Nuclear Apocalypse Starter:
The world as we knew it ended in a flash. A white light followed by a rumble which washed over the world in nuclear fire. Billions died then and there reducing the world’s population to the brink. Those who were lucky to survive a direct blast were mutated to become much different than humans and more akin to zombies. Those outside of it didn’t have much quality of life as the radiation created mutated creatures which made living in a barren wasteland that much harder.
There were others however who were lucky enough to be given a spot in giant underground vaults. There they lived out their lives separated from the horrors that this new world wrought. One by one these vaults opened to allow these vault dwellers into the wasteland that was our world.
Their blue suits and clueless natures made them stand out and become easy prey to raiders, giant creatures and everything in between. Many of them didn’t get far before being gutted and robbed for their illusive vault suits which earned enough to feed a scavenger or bandit for a month.
The world and society began to rebuild. And with small settlements and towns popping up here and there it wasn’t all doom and gloom for the wasteland. Many were able to create jobs in local milita, mercenary work. Even trading or bartending.
I was such a mercenary a few generations of my family lived through the bombing and the radiation which was lucky enough for me, I guess. I was hired to do whatever someone wanted for the right price. And today I was tasked with delving into a recently opened vault and check make contact with the inhabitants inside.
Colt python on my waist I headed over to the large vault door which at this point was sealed shut and knocked loudly. This job seemed rather easy and was paying a lot which made me wonder who I was working for and what purpose they had with these vault dwellers. However, I wasn’t paid to ask questions nor did I really care at the end of the day. The less I knew the less guilt I could feel.
Idea 11: Space/Scifi. (So this is a scifi adventure. My character is the captain of his own ship and is currently looking for recruits to join him and help run it. There will probably be lots of interesting planets our characters go to and I’ll certainly be making them up as we go along! Your character can range as anything from a human to android or even an alien.)
Stepping out of the tempest I breathed in the humid station air of Astra station. The station which was on the furthest reaches of the space ruled over the galactic council; was a haven for the depraved. Outlaws, mercenaries, drug dealers you name it Astra has it and in bountiful supply too.
Which made it a perfect spot to find someone who was desperate to get off the station. Someone who would work for cheap or for free. All I needed to do was to find them. “Schwarzer, don’t forget to stock up on food, military rations are sad.” A voice commented through the earpiece I had. “Yeah. I’ll head through the slums and to the market. Thanks, Evai.” I responded. “And don’t cause any trouble, I don’t wanna rot in this ship while you’re dead.” The voice added on. “Yeah yeah I’ve got it.” I responded as the communication line was severed and I started on my walk.
I headed through a nearby door and down into the depths of the station. Soon I the overcrowded and frankly smelly slums. Beggars and gang members lined every corner all looking at me with a cautious eye as I passed. There were even a few tweaked out drug users laying scattered about in some dark corners. Even a few corpses.
I didn’t stop though, if you stayed in one place too long down here you were asking to be jumped and quickly, I pushed on heading over to the bustling markets. The food quality here wasn’t the best although it was abundant. I even talked to a few of the store owners to see if they knew where I could find the extra hands to help me on my ship.
Idea 12: Brother sisteMother son (Or both). (So, this starter is gonna be fairly generic, however it’s open to allowing any of the familial ties to be easily included. I have a few ideas for immediate family and will post them below and if you have any ideas, I’m happy to hear them.)
Starter: It’s a hot and lazy day in the middle of summer break. I had laid splayed out on the couch at home. Despite the air conditioner being on full blast my skin underneath my tank top was getting stuck to the leather couch; which did little to alleviate the heat fluster that was going on. I sighed after looking over the back of the couch to the pool outback longingly. I sighed a little resigning myself to bite the bullet and peeled myself from the couch.
As much as I wanted to strip down and run out, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was home alone and as such, I headed up to my room to change into a pair of swimming trunks before heading back downstairs. Passing through the laundry and grabbing a towel on the way.
I headed onto the back deck and draped my towel over the railing before I rushed over and leapt into the pool immediately feeling the cool water wash away any of the heat I had been feeling. I resurface and breathed a sigh of relief as I pushed my messy hair back from my face.
Idea 13: Aunt/Cousin. (Can be both) Again like the incest scene above I’m not quite sure how to spruce this one up so I’ll leave it rather basic and we can go from there.)
Starter: My family has gone on holiday without me as I had to stay behind due to being caught up in exams. Rather than meeting up with them later they decided it would be more fun for me if I finished them up then headed over to spend some time with my Aunt and my cousin across the county. While I wouldn’t be leaving the country, I was still getting a vacation in a way and as such I tried my best to be upbeat and positive about it, even if I was envious of the others.
While it wasn’t the same pristine beaches and high-class resorts that the rest of my family was going to, I was still grateful for the hospitality. The plane lands in the airport and after collecting my bags and checking my phone for a confirmation I was going to be picked up I sent my family and my aunt and cousin a quick text telling them I landed safely. After gathering my small suitcase from the conveyor belt, I wheeled it through security and out to the meeting area keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of my cousin or my auntie. There was a little confusion about who was going to greet me so I wasn’t sure who to expect myself.
Idea 14: Incest family vacation. (So, this one is again going to be like the other two before it. They kinda roll off each other in a way. However, I believe it allows for a wide range of engagements with multiple characters at some kind of beach resort.)
Starter: It’s the dead middle of another scorching summer and rather than tough it out in our homes which has air-conditioning which never seemed to help, our large family decided to all go to a large resort (Could even be a cruise too) together. Many of the rooms were rather luxurious and I was more than excited to see what the rest of the hotel had to offer.
We pulled up into the lobby and while the parents were checking in I headed over to check out a map on the wall. It seemed there were quite a lot of different things to do around the resort. There was a pool with a poolside bar, a beach which had volleyball games, a massage parlour, hot tubs and many different activities ranging from native dances to eating competitions.
Just the realization we were here and the excitement at the many possibilities that could come from the vacation. Maybe I’d even meet someone nice and have a vacation fling. Although with so many family members running around, I doubted that I’d get much peace to do that. Regardless I was eager to get up to the room, have a shower and change into my swimming trunks to explore all the different places.
We headed up to the rooms where I noticed mine had a large double bed. However, judging by my mother’s comments outside It seemed there was some kind of mix-up in the rooms and I’d be sharing the room with one of my family members. Not that I minded too much. I placed my suitcase down and waited to see who would come in and if they were interested in joining me look around.
Closing words: So yeah that’s about it! Thanks for reading and if you have any questions or suggestions, I’m open to hearing them! I know this was probably a big read so thanks again for your time and I hope to talk to some of you soon!
submitted by Joker_ERP to Dirtypenpalsuk [link] [comments]


2020.10.25 15:46 Joker_ERP Hidden sex in hospital

Hey there! Today I’ve got a massive list of rp ideas and have written out some starters along with some ideas to how I see the rp going. I’m open to change and ready to do other ideas too. So if you feel like you’ve got an idea I might be interested in feel free to talk to me about those: ).
As for my replies. I write in first person mainly and my reply length varies. I generally do anything from a few sentences to a paragraph or more and generally require my partner to do the same. Fair warning the less detail you reply with the less interested I’ll be in rping with you. (Not looking for a few words as a response)
I enjoy having a story to go along with the smut so it’s not just constant sex, some cute or action driven moments are fun as well. – Hand holding and cute dates are pleasant! I mainly do my rps on kik, discord or here. I also have an RP facebook account, so feel free to ask for my users for those! : )
My kinks and limits list might be a big read, but none are compulsory. I’m just here to have fun and hopefully meet some cool rp partners : )
Kinks: Harems (Which might be obvious with my post), Incest, Outercourse (Which is stuff like titjobs, thigh jobs, grinding, hot dogging) Risky public spaces (Toilet stalls, changing booths. That kinda thing where people could get caught.) Facials, Freckles (Face and body). Big/nicely shaped bums (Especially if they jiggle). Creampies, Cum on tits/body, big cumshots, Thigh high socks. showewater sex (pools, shower, hot tubs ect.) Mutual desire for sex.
Limits: Pregnancy (Hard limit sorry), Vomit, Piss, Blood, Toilet stuff, Rape, Gangbangs (Unless it’s multiple females) Male on Male, futas, rimming/pegging.
There might be more that I’m forgetting so if you’re unsure feel free to ask me! The rougher side of sex like Name calling, slapping choking spanking I can all do as well! : ) Without further ado let’s jump into the starters!
Here's the basic list of ideas if you wanted to look them over before reading the full posts. I’m also open to some ideas that I may have missed!
Rule 34/Fandom ideas: Idea 1: My Harem (Hero) Academia. Idea 2: Pokemon Idea 3: Naruto Idea 4: Bleach Idea 5: Avatar The Last Airbender Idea 6: Persona (Girls from 4 and 5) Idea 7: Harry Potter.
OC Ideas: Idea 8: Fantasy harem adventure. Idea 9: Only Man of the town. Idea 10: Zombie and Nuclear Apocalypse. Idea 11: Scifi space crew.
Incest Ideas: Idea 12: Brother sisteMother son (Or both). Idea 13: Aunt/Cousin. (Can be both) Idea 14: Incest family vacation.
Idea 1: My Harem (Hero) Academia.
(So my character will be a transfer into Class 1-A. His power is the power of persuasion. With the power he’s able to convince someone to do something as if it’s their own will. However, he’s hesitant to use it on other people and to tell everyone he even has it as he’s been outcast at his last school for the villainous nature of his quirk. As such he can’t use it to its full extent and can only issue small commands to begin with.
My idea with this is that one or more (cannon or non) of the girls decide to help him out in a private setting and overtime it gets more and more sexual in nature. And as he becomes more confident, he’s able to issue more longer-term commands. This can also be mixed in well with some story and some action to keep the plot interesting.)
Starter: It was a day which started like most others in Class 1-A. The students got ready in the dorms and headed to class to chat among themselves while they waited for Aizawa to enter. However, unlike most days there seemed to be an extra desk placed in the room. The seat caused some confusion which didn’t last long as the first bell rang and Aizawa entered the room.
“Morning everyone.” He stated in his mainly bored and sleepy tone which seemed to sound like he was stifling a yawn. “Today we’ve got a new student transferring in from another school. He’s from Shiketsu, some of you may recognize the name since it’s got the same level as prestige as U.A. but regardless make sure he feels welcome.” He said pointing a sweeping stare at everyone and finally resting on the problem child of the U.A class Bakugo.
With that he fell silent and I felt it was my cue to enter. Swallowing a little at the nerves I steeled them quickly and entered. My blue eyes sweeping over some of the familiar faces in the room. Many of the students had standout performances in the UA sports festival and as well in the news reports about the villain attack on the training camp.
I had a lot to live up to if I wanted to join these legends in training but regardless, I was determined to do just that. Breathing a little and shifting my auburn hair from my eyes I smiled the best I could. “My name is Schwarzer, Chris Schwarzer. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” I say bowing to the class.
Satisfied with the introduction Aizawa nodded to the spare seat in the room. Taking that as an order I nodded back and headed over to my seat sitting down and getting my books out. Curiously I turned to the seat next to me noticing one of the girls in the class and gave her a slight smile as Aizawa began his lesson.
Idea 2: Pokemon: (So this one is super simple. Some trainers or a trainer and his Pokémon go on a grand adventure. For this one my favourite Canon female are: Marnie, May, Hilda and May. And my favourite Anthro Pokémon are Lopunny, Arcanine, Blaiziken That’s just for reference though and you can really play whoever you like!)
Trainer x Trainer Starter:
I like many others in the world of Pokémon have just started on my journey. Although I had done so a little late. Regardless me and my starter Pokémon Aipom which was a gift from my late father. Setting off with excitement to make a name of myself.
That excitement wore off pretty quickly however as an advanced trainer stepped in my path and soon, I realized how big the gap between us was. He wiped the floor with my aipom and laughed as he took my “Prize money” Scooping up my aipom I rushed through the rest of the route and over to the next town ducking quickly into the Pokémon centre.
Looking around there was a few new trainers who seemed to have fallen to the same fate as I had and I shook my head. Guys like that were total assholes and without hesitating I headed over to the counter where the nurse took my Aipom from me. Once he was gone, I was told there was going to be a short wait due to the amount of Pokémon they had to treat. I nodded as I headed over and sat down in one of the seats.
Trainer x Anthro Pokemon Starter. (So similar to the starter above, rather than having a trainer my character goes on adventures with it’s a Pokémon. Just being transparent that there’s NO circumstances that I’ll do feral, I’m looking for ANTHRO Pokémon only!)
A little way into my journey and I’ve heard reports of a rare Pokémon deep in the surrounding forest. Not wanting to miss the chance to catch it I braved the depths of the forest keeping an eye out for the Pokémon.
Soon I came across a large clearing with a rock. On top was the Pokémon in question no doubt about it. It was strangely human in appearance and without hesitating I sent out my Pokémon. An Aipom. “Alright buddy tackle!” I whispered. Aipom nodded as it charged out of the clearing and threw its body towards the Pokémon in question.
Idea 3: Naruto ( So for this one I like the idea that my character is a young nomadic mercenary hired by the leaf to help train the ninja of the village, maybe he also has some kind of hidden power that boosts his chakra but also increases his libido. Not too sure how I wanna go about this one. )
Starter: The Hokage Tsunade Senju looked over me with a curious gaze and then down to my application form. “You’re younger than I expected given everything you’ve done.” She stated honestly. “But the intelligence division did a thorough search into you and you check out.” She stated as she slammed the approved stamp down onto my paper.
“Just remember, if you do anything to endanger this village, I’ll snuff you out personally.” She said in an icy and threatening tone. Feeling a cold bead of sweat roll down the side of my face I nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.” I say. Internally I make a mental note not to cross her in any way. “Good.” She said putting a smile across her features. “Your first group is down on the training field waiting for you already.” She stated. “Your lodgings will be set up by the time you’re done, here’s the key.” She said tossing the key to me which I caught and stuffed into my pocket. I was a little shocked with how quick she wanted me to get to work but I nodded. “Right!” I say giving a respectful bow before heading out.
It took me a little longer than expected to actually find the training grounds as I hadn’t ever been here before. And when I got there much to her credit there were a few ninja standing around. Approaching them I gave them a sheepish smile. “Sorry I’m late guys.” I called out. “I got lost.” I added on.
Idea 4: Bleach ( So a new human soul reaper makes it into the soul society. His power isn’t captain level to begin with simply being enough to take out the average hollow. And with the resurgence of the hollow threat the Soul Society has offered to give him a substitute badge to take out those hollows deemed too small for the soul society to handle. Maybe he’s paired up with someone or someone like Orihime steps in to help him grow. )
Starter: Another boring day at school followed by a night of boring patrols. With all the big hollows being taken care of by “Full-fledged” Soul reapers it didn’t leave me with much opportunity to train against bigger enemies.
At least that’s what I thought originally. A few blocks from me there was a rift which opened up and the pure spiritual pressure that came from the hollow that stepped out of it was enough to make me feel as though gravity itself was pushing against me.
It was hard to breathe and even harder to stand as my hand clutched my blade in my left hand tightly. I shook my head as I heard the loud roar of the large breast and could even see it’s towering form from my position.
It was nothing close to a menos, but it was enough to tower over a three-story building for sure. “Shit.” I hissed to myself as I knew there were no soul reapers around at this stage. With a threat this big I was sure they’d come, but until then it was up to me to buy some time and make sure no humans or souls were consumed.
Pushing myself forward I reached the park that the Hollow had appeared in. Thankfully the park was deserted at this time of night. When he saw me the hollow. “You don’t smell like much, but you’ll do as a snack.” The hollow commented as it charged forward. “Just evade, buy time.” I comment to myself as I began to leap around the battle field looking a bit like and feeling like an idiot.
The hollow toyed with me a little while enjoying the chase before it seemed to ger bored. Just when I was thinking I was fast enough to keep avoiding it the creature’s mouth opened and its forked tongue shot out at me with faster speed than I was anticipating I raised my blade to defend myself but it was a feeble attempt and I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
Idea 5: Avatar The Last Airbender ( So for this one I guess it can go two different ways. My fave girls from Avatar would probably be Ty Lee, Suki and Toph. Maybe my character is a powerful bender that either the fire nation or team Avatar wants on their side. I think it might be cool to think that Aang isn’t the only airbender and instead a small faction managed to escape and continue the lineage. Either that or my character is a powerful firebender of some kind. I’ll leave whichever you prefer to you in your first reply as I’ll leave it open ended.)
Starter: The world was at war ever since the Fire nation attacked. With the intense fighting came mercenaries. Freelance benders or soldiers ready to fight on either side. For a fee of course. And despite my age, being only eighteen I was quite renown amongst the other bounty hunters for my bending.
Of course, there were talks of the Avatar returning, having repelled an invasion in the south pole, the liberation of Omashu and then the fire nation prison. It seemed they were making quite the stir in the earth kingdom.
It’d only be a matter of time before they reached the small town, I was in. Perhaps they were already here. But if that was the case surely there would be some kind of stir. Pushing my hair from my face I ordered another drink from the barkeep. “You know you’re my favourite customer Schwarzer…. You’re the only one who consistently pays his tab. Unlike the rest of these soldiers or the workers around here.” The older man says in clear annoyance.
“Well who knows, if I wasn’t so successful, I’d probably mooch off you too.” I admitted with a grin. “Try not to talk too ill of the soldiers on either side.” I added on flicking him an extra coin for a tip once my drink was finished. “Well I better check if anyone has a job for me.” I say as I pushed myself up from my seat.
Idea 6: Persona ( So basically this is just gonna be a fairly interesting idea. My character along with the girls of persona 4 and 5 get stranded in this strange dimension where they have to fight their way out to make it back to their own worlds. )
Starter: It all happened so fast. One minute I was in a team meeting with my group discussing what we should use our newfound powers for next. And the next second, I had blinked and I was in some kind of strange room.
One by one more people were added into this room. Some of which were dressed in some elaborate costumes. And I frowned as I looked to each one of them, all of which I didn’t recognize at all and judging by their looks they didn’t recognize me. Although before we managed to introduce ourselves a booming voice broke the silence.
“Welcome all!” The clearly male voice commented. “To the room of my design.” He added on. “I’m sure you’re all confused. And no doubt you’ll want to return back to your homes. However, to do so you’ll need to enter my labyrinth. “Make it to the end and you’ll all return home.” The voice explained.
“Of course, this maze isn’t without its dangers. Enemies, much like you encounter on a regular basis will roam these halls. As well as beasts of my own design far stronger than those… Fear no though for every check point you reach this room will become more furnished with amenities. For now, you simply have beds to rest on.” He said as there was an audible click and the dark room was suddenly lit up. Sure, enough there were rows of beds all lined up one for each person to sleep on.
“When you’re ready to test yourselves step through this door and enter the first level of the labyrinth.” He declared as a large door appeared and opened up in front of them. For a while nobody said anything probably all too stunned to even process the information. “So, I’m guessing we’re all persona users given what he just said.” I spoke up. “I guess we should probably start with names and strengths, right?” I questioned the group. “I’m Chris Schwarzer.” I say. “My persona Serapth focuses on ranged combat.” I explained.
Idea 7: Harry Potter ( So to keep this one interesting I’m thinking of having it set in an AU where Voldemort and Harry don’t exist. However, there are still dark wizards who are part of a cult around. Defs looking for a Hermionie, Luna or Ginny, you could even have other celebs/ecelebs as teachers or students for this one! )
Starter: Another year at Hogwarts, the last for some; and another year of learning was right around the corner. Although times were not peaceful in the wizarding world. Aurors who were the police of the magical world were going missing or showing up dead.
The ministry not wanting to make a panic kept it fairly under wraps, however some of the families have come forward with the information and rumours abounded about what was really happening. Stepping off the train I sighed a little rubbing my temple where a headache had begun to set in. During the train ride here, I found myself stuck next to a boy who wouldn’t stop going on about the rumours and conspiracy theories.
Glad to be off the train I looked around for a minute lost as to where I needed to go. “I know it’s around here somewhere.” I commented, although my sense of direction was always off. Usually I followed everyone else. But this time it seemed I was one of the last ones off the train.
Idea 8: Fantasy harem adventure. (This one is fairly basic in nature. Basically, a young man with little combat experience leaves his poor hunting village once he’s of age and sets off to join the adventurer’s guild to make a name for himself and also to send money back home. He’s fairly modest, naive and kind hearted. Which makes him likable and easy to take advantage of.
We could add a story with war elements, racism and darker themes to show him that the world he idolizes isn’t as cracked up as he thought it’d be. Ideally, I’d like a full harem party for this one but I’m cool with one on one too.)
Starter: It had been a few days since I was finally able to leave the small village, I was raised in behind me. Sword on hip and keen to become an adventurer. Of course, I also wanted to make a name for myself and I was even more excited to see everything the world had to offer. With driving me forward I headed from my village over to the closest city which had a guild branch. A city called Ruan. It was nearly five times the size of my village if not more and yet it was nothing close to the capital city of Grancel.
Smooth dirt paths soon gave way to cobblestone and my boots clacked rhythmically against the pavement as my steps soon got faster and faster as Ruan came into view. My stomach was in knots as I gripped the straps on my bag tightly and after steeling my nerves and taking in the sight of the large city, I headed through the large stone arch to the busy streets beyond.
My excited eyes looked around at every nook and cranny as I took in every detail that was on offer. Soon coming across the large marble and wood building of the adventurer’s guild in front of me. I stood in front of the large building clearly awestruck and for a moment I felt completely overwhelmed. This was it. This was the first step I was going to take on my journey and yet I felt far too nervous to head inside. Instead I stood there shaking slightly as I tried to work up the courage to push those large oak doors aside and declare my presence to the world.
Idea 9: Man of the town. (So again the premise is also pretty basic. My character wakes up in a town where there’s no men, as if they all vanished at once. Including his father which leaves him home alone with his sister and mother. (It’s up to you if you want incest in the plot or not.) We can have a story with an element of mystery to it too if you want! Or we can just bounce around the town having him bonk as many different people as you want. )
Starter: It’s been a few weeks since all the men in the town vanished one day. One day they were there and the next they were gone. There was of course a panic even though it is much calmer than originally, it continues to creep in the back of everyone’s mind. It doesn’t help the fact that no outsiders have come into the town and some strange thick fog seems to stop everyone from leaving.
However, with no answers it was left to the women of the town to pick up the slack and try to push for some level of normalcy. Except for me it seemed. Since the whole act started, I was in lockdown not being free to leave my home since my mother and sister was much too paranoid that I’d disappear too. With the amount of time I spent indoors going stir crazy I began to wonder if it was better to be wherever the rest of them are.
Today was different though and finally I was given the chance to leave the house while my mother was careless and rather quickly, I headed out into the street just glad to take in the scenery as I headed over to a nearby park. I headed over the soft grass feeling it beneath my shoes and then to the pond where I took a seat on one of the mounted benches.
Idea 10: Zombie and Nuclear Apocalypse. (Not a whole lot to say here other than it’s one of your run of the mill Zombie/Nuclear apocalypse scenarios. I might toy with the idea of having multiple zombie types like games such as Dying light and Left for dead in order to spice things up a little but we’ll see where we go with it. As for nuclear I’ll probably be following along the Fallout franchise. Being part of these worlds will probably make my character a bit more brash, blunt and even a little rude. However, given some time he’ll warm up.)
Zombie Starter: No one knows quite when the outbreak started, however it swept over the globe causing panic. People eating people. People dying and coming back to life as a shambling corpse joining the armies of similar creatures. Society crumbled over time and the cities which were now hot zones for hordes of the undead creatures were left abandoned to all but the most daring or desperate of individuals. However, these rabid hordes weren’t the only thing to look out for in the apocalypse.
Society had begun to reform in its most primal form. People grouped together for safety. Those who just wanted to live peacefully became easy prey for those who saw the end of the world as we knew it as a playground to kill pillage and steal what they’d like. These bandits created their own factions with their own fortresses and seemed to have an endless supply of guns and ammo as they used it quite liberally.
I had been on the trail of a particularly nasty group of bandits as they razed whatever small settlements, they had to the ground callously and without mercy. I had just arrived at one of these towns. Dying people lay scattered about while fires licked at the makeshift buildings. It was still quite fresh. Approaching a nearby body which seemed to be moving slightly I turned it over the man was in bad shape and was clearly on death’s door. His eyes looking into mine in a pleading sense.
“Do you want me to make it quick?” I asked him reaching my left hand down to my machete which hung on my belt. Weakly his hand reached out to grip my right as he gave a nod. I knew the death wouldn’t be clean, as I unsheathed my blade. However, I couldn’t waste any ammo on my pistol nor could I risk tipping off the bandits that did this that I was following them. With a quick swing I slammed the blade into the head of the man ending his life and after wiping the blade off on his shirt I slid it back into its sheath my eyes scanning the immediate area for any of the undead which had turned or for a slim chance of getting a glimpse of survivors.
Nuclear Apocalypse Starter:
The world as we knew it ended in a flash. A white light followed by a rumble which washed over the world in nuclear fire. Billions died then and there reducing the world’s population to the brink. Those who were lucky to survive a direct blast were mutated to become much different than humans and more akin to zombies. Those outside of it didn’t have much quality of life as the radiation created mutated creatures which made living in a barren wasteland that much harder.
There were others however who were lucky enough to be given a spot in giant underground vaults. There they lived out their lives separated from the horrors that this new world wrought. One by one these vaults opened to allow these vault dwellers into the wasteland that was our world.
Their blue suits and clueless natures made them stand out and become easy prey to raiders, giant creatures and everything in between. Many of them didn’t get far before being gutted and robbed for their illusive vault suits which earned enough to feed a scavenger or bandit for a month.
The world and society began to rebuild. And with small settlements and towns popping up here and there it wasn’t all doom and gloom for the wasteland. Many were able to create jobs in local milita, mercenary work. Even trading or bartending.
I was such a mercenary a few generations of my family lived through the bombing and the radiation which was lucky enough for me, I guess. I was hired to do whatever someone wanted for the right price. And today I was tasked with delving into a recently opened vault and check make contact with the inhabitants inside.
Colt python on my waist I headed over to the large vault door which at this point was sealed shut and knocked loudly. This job seemed rather easy and was paying a lot which made me wonder who I was working for and what purpose they had with these vault dwellers. However, I wasn’t paid to ask questions nor did I really care at the end of the day. The less I knew the less guilt I could feel.
Idea 11: Space/Scifi. (So this is a scifi adventure. My character is the captain of his own ship and is currently looking for recruits to join him and help run it. There will probably be lots of interesting planets our characters go to and I’ll certainly be making them up as we go along! Your character can range as anything from a human to android or even an alien.)
Stepping out of the tempest I breathed in the humid station air of Astra station. The station which was on the furthest reaches of the space ruled over the galactic council; was a haven for the depraved. Outlaws, mercenaries, drug dealers you name it Astra has it and in bountiful supply too.
Which made it a perfect spot to find someone who was desperate to get off the station. Someone who would work for cheap or for free. All I needed to do was to find them. “Schwarzer, don’t forget to stock up on food, military rations are sad.” A voice commented through the earpiece I had. “Yeah. I’ll head through the slums and to the market. Thanks, Evai.” I responded. “And don’t cause any trouble, I don’t wanna rot in this ship while you’re dead.” The voice added on. “Yeah yeah I’ve got it.” I responded as the communication line was severed and I started on my walk.
I headed through a nearby door and down into the depths of the station. Soon I the overcrowded and frankly smelly slums. Beggars and gang members lined every corner all looking at me with a cautious eye as I passed. There were even a few tweaked out drug users laying scattered about in some dark corners. Even a few corpses.
I didn’t stop though, if you stayed in one place too long down here you were asking to be jumped and quickly, I pushed on heading over to the bustling markets. The food quality here wasn’t the best although it was abundant. I even talked to a few of the store owners to see if they knew where I could find the extra hands to help me on my ship.
Idea 12: Brother sisteMother son (Or both). (So, this starter is gonna be fairly generic, however it’s open to allowing any of the familial ties to be easily included. I have a few ideas for immediate family and will post them below and if you have any ideas, I’m happy to hear them.)
Starter: It’s a hot and lazy day in the middle of summer break. I had laid splayed out on the couch at home. Despite the air conditioner being on full blast my skin underneath my tank top was getting stuck to the leather couch; which did little to alleviate the heat fluster that was going on. I sighed after looking over the back of the couch to the pool outback longingly. I sighed a little resigning myself to bite the bullet and peeled myself from the couch.
As much as I wanted to strip down and run out, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was home alone and as such, I headed up to my room to change into a pair of swimming trunks before heading back downstairs. Passing through the laundry and grabbing a towel on the way.
I headed onto the back deck and draped my towel over the railing before I rushed over and leapt into the pool immediately feeling the cool water wash away any of the heat I had been feeling. I resurface and breathed a sigh of relief as I pushed my messy hair back from my face.
Idea 13: Aunt/Cousin. (Can be both) Again like the incest scene above I’m not quite sure how to spruce this one up so I’ll leave it rather basic and we can go from there.)
Starter: My family has gone on holiday without me as I had to stay behind due to being caught up in exams. Rather than meeting up with them later they decided it would be more fun for me if I finished them up then headed over to spend some time with my Aunt and my cousin across the county. While I wouldn’t be leaving the country, I was still getting a vacation in a way and as such I tried my best to be upbeat and positive about it, even if I was envious of the others.
While it wasn’t the same pristine beaches and high-class resorts that the rest of my family was going to, I was still grateful for the hospitality. The plane lands in the airport and after collecting my bags and checking my phone for a confirmation I was going to be picked up I sent my family and my aunt and cousin a quick text telling them I landed safely. After gathering my small suitcase from the conveyor belt, I wheeled it through security and out to the meeting area keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of my cousin or my auntie. There was a little confusion about who was going to greet me so I wasn’t sure who to expect myself.
Idea 14: Incest family vacation. (So, this one is again going to be like the other two before it. They kinda roll off each other in a way. However, I believe it allows for a wide range of engagements with multiple characters at some kind of beach resort.)
Starter: It’s the dead middle of another scorching summer and rather than tough it out in our homes which has air-conditioning which never seemed to help, our large family decided to all go to a large resort (Could even be a cruise too) together. Many of the rooms were rather luxurious and I was more than excited to see what the rest of the hotel had to offer.
We pulled up into the lobby and while the parents were checking in I headed over to check out a map on the wall. It seemed there were quite a lot of different things to do around the resort. There was a pool with a poolside bar, a beach which had volleyball games, a massage parlour, hot tubs and many different activities ranging from native dances to eating competitions.
Just the realization we were here and the excitement at the many possibilities that could come from the vacation. Maybe I’d even meet someone nice and have a vacation fling. Although with so many family members running around, I doubted that I’d get much peace to do that. Regardless I was eager to get up to the room, have a shower and change into my swimming trunks to explore all the different places.
We headed up to the rooms where I noticed mine had a large double bed. However, judging by my mother’s comments outside It seemed there was some kind of mix-up in the rooms and I’d be sharing the room with one of my family members. Not that I minded too much. I placed my suitcase down and waited to see who would come in and if they were interested in joining me look around.
Closing words: So yeah that’s about it! Thanks for reading and if you have any questions or suggestions, I’m open to hearing them! I know this was probably a big read so thanks again for your time and I hope to talk to some of you soon!
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2020.10.21 10:07 Oresama9000 Hidden sex in hospital

I have shit English, It's my 3rd language. I speak primarily mandarin and Japanese. I don’t think anyone will honestly believe me, but on the off chance that someone might give me advice I’ma try. I 24M are thinking of kidnapping my best friend and have her locked in my house for a bit. Now hear me out first. She 23F has posted on here, she has tried to reach out, and got seriously no replies. So She’s assuming she should just stay.
I have known my best friend, we’ll call Lily as she has that as her fake name on accounts for years as she posts her diary entries on here but disappeared from Reddit a year ago after things changed. I have known Lily since elementary school. I taught her Japanese. I am Japanese. She was my first crush, and my first love. I don’t love anyone but her. She’s what I wanted since the day I saw her before we ever met, and I did everything to make her mine which worked for years. And no, I’m not gonna kidnap her because I’m obsessively in love with her.
I have 2 older brothers that I’m going to mention, I have more siblings but will focus on those two. I’m second youngest in my family of all boys. My eldest brother is 9 years older than I am, 10 years older than Lily. My second eldest is three years older than I am and four years older than her. Lily is one of the most kind and gentle people I have ever met in my life. She’s the most absolute pure human being I have ever known and never says anything negative to anyone and is kind to people who are even cruel and bullied her in school. It would piss me off more than anything and she just said “You never know what they are going through. I know what they do to me is wrong, but maybe they have a horrible life and don’t know how to be better”.
She was always there for me when my mom died when we were in middle school. She was around so much I could sorta say she lived with me and my family almost. She only left when she needed to sleep pretty much. She lived less than a block from my place. In the beginning of high school her brother started being around all the time. Her brother pretty much became closer to me than my own brothers and best friend. He’s a true bro. He’s older than Lily by 3 years, so 2 years older than I am. She’s pretty damn attached to him too but nothing in a wrong way.
I think she called her brother Luke in her post so I guess I’ll call him that too. Luke and Lily don’t look related for crap despite being full siblings. Lily is Caramel skin with black hair and eyes. She’s very small, 159 cm (5’2” for Americans), and is shy and extremely quiet. Most people really think Lily is mute. She will specifically only talk to my family and her family only. She’s not all good at telling how she feels or else she stutters and gets very red, so art is everything to her. I can always tell how she feels because she will draw and the theme of her art is easy to tell. Also she’s a godly level of art skill. Everyone always tells her “Hey, Disney called, they want their artist back” jokes. Lily is always passive, and a very submissive person by nature. Not gonna lie, I did take advantage of that a few times which is how I first got her to let me do her. I knew she would be really nervous, and I knew she would hesitate and make excuses instead of saying no directly.
But I thought back then that unless she said no that meant no, but she told me later that she’s happy I did get her to have sex or else she probably would have been afried of it her whole life. She was the type to very adamantly wanted to be a virgin until marriage, but was gang raped when walking home after staying out late to study. A part of Lily was never the same. She failed school, and her dad died shortly after he found the truth. She was terrified of anything for a while.
Now for Luke. As I said Lily looks nothing like Luke. Luke is a very tall guy. He’s 188 cm (6’2”), and has light olive skin, I guess white but not pasty af white. He has blue eyes or green. Lily says hazel in her post. IDK they change color in different light. But he has dirty blonde hair. Luke was pretty much my solid man. He was my inspiration and pretty much idol. My grades went to shit in school, but he tutored me a lot which led us to chilling. The dude got everything. He got all the girls, which Lily was literally his wingwoman since she knows the type of girls he likes more than anyone else. He had the perfect honors grades, and he did sports. So not those lanky tall guys but the ones who looks like he can judo kick you through a wall.
I don’t know if this matters but I’m 183cm (6’0”). So Lily is incredibly tiny compared to me also. She’s weak up until she snaps. I only seen her snap once, and that was one time when She purposely did the silent treatment to me when I was 19 and she was 18 (She lived with me at the time cuss we were dating n shit) I got really angry and did the one thing I should never to in my life. I tore her sketchbook. I took a few pages out during dinner and shredded them. I have never seen someone go from 0 to 1,000 that fast. Wasn’t even 100 but a 1,000. She threw the whole damn dining room table at me. Not even flip it but picked it up and threw it while screaming like all hell god of war. I thought I was gonna die. Lily threw another chair at me before it took my eldest three brothers to hold her down because she took one of them down. Which my eldest three are actually taller than I am. My other 2 brothers sorta just stared in silence and noped into the other side of the room.
And now I have a phobia of touching her sketchbook. That’s the one and only time she was ever violent and doesn't remember anything she did. I should also mention she has autism but its aspergers. So the art is also attributed to that as well as not only is it her form of communication and expressing emotion, but it’s something she’s devoted to with all her heart and mind.
So Lily stayed with me after she got gang raped. Her family was pretty much blaming her except Luke who visited daily and always helped take care of her. She has a lot of medical issues so at times she can be completely fine one day, and the next she will be unable to move properly due to severe pain from a skin condition as well as no immune system. A cold is deadly to her. I noticed a pattern that every time she gets a cold she gets hospitalized, then goes deaf for a couple months due to having a none stop extremely high fever for over a week. When I saw her get sick it would make me worry so much as I never know if she’s gonna make it or not.
So while she dated me she fell in love with my eldest brother… go figure... it's always the eldest brother. I knew she liked him most. She always has since childhood. She didn’t even care about the age gap but looked at him like he was treasure. She never acted on any of her desires while with me. This part is all on me as I realized he actually reciprocated the feelings. I pretty much called him every name under the sun even calling him a fucking pedo because he was 27 and she was still 17.
The arguments turned into screaming matches, and the screaming matches turned into fistfights. Which Lily hated. She can’t stand violence. She always tried to stop us but one of my other brothers would grab her and hold her back. Eventually Lily got really angry and said she can’t deal with it anymore and she was my girlfriend and not my brothers. But with our behavior she couldn't stand staying at our house, and said that we wither solve it or she’s gone. She said she doesn’t even flirt with my brother, only has feelings to which he actually said she really doesn't initiate or do anything and if he ever tried to advance she would say no and sorry and how she can’t go behind my back.
Funny enough… my brother and I ended up deciding to share her since neither of us would just give her up. I was surprisingly not as possessive of her as I thought I would be by sharing her with him. Oh… and she said no for a whole hour and was yelling how morally wrong and fucked up it was to be with two men at the same time let alone them being brothers, but after both of us talked to her and we basically said “You told us to solve it, we solved it, so just deal with it” she said fine and actually ended up liking it. (And for those perves that fucking wanna know if we fucked her at the same time… yeah we did. Just never the same hole at the same time and wont go in the hole if the other came in it since we never used a condom and only finished in or on her)
Fast forward to this month. October is her favorite month since she says the air smells in a specific way she likes. I personally can’t smell it, but she has a fucking scent of a hound so I know she can smell stuff I can’t. Her hearing is also extremely sensitive too which overwhelms her if she goes in crowds, so she just can’t deal with being in places with too much activity. She broke up with my brother when she was 21 and I because this guy who was super obsessed with her tried to kill her with the literal phrase “If I can’t have you, no one can” and he pretty much tortured her for 3 hours with a friend of his and they would rape her in between on and off. It was honestly horrible. Her phone audio recorded it. I listened to the whole thing and never have wanted to kill anyone so much in my life.
Seeing her in the hospital was the worst as I’ve never seen her so hurt before too. She had to get stitches all over, and her thumb was burned with a lighter. I’m not gonna go into too much detail but that's just a bit of the damage done to her. She was too terrified to even want anything to do with anyone, but fuckinig hell. She fell for a fucking other Japanese guy she called Ren who is the same height as me. And fucking married him 34 days after meeting him. He too though became as close to me as Luke is. He’s also that close to my eldest brother too. Fucking ironic. So anyways, her mom moved out on the 5th this month half way across the country. And shit hit the fan so fucking hard.
HERE IS WHY I WANT TO KIDNAP HER! To put it very bluntly her berother went fucking nuts. Luke raped her 3 days after their mom moved away. And it wasn’t some he got horny and decided incest was gonna be cool suddenly. I mean… Yeah that's one thing, but he was very violent and aggressive. She moved back to her moms house 2 months ago. So it’s only her, Luke, Ren, and I in the house now. I am actually in her old bedroom as I’m typing this. Her bedroom was next to another room which was the guest bedroom, but since she moved in the rooms reversed. So her old bedroom is the guest bedroom and the old guest bedroom is her now bedroom. I’ve only been here for 2 days.
I only found this out yesterday too by the way. No I’m not calling the fucking cops. I’m too conflicted right now. But anyways, if Luke fucking incestuously raping her wasnt enough, the next day he beat the shit out of her, which he never done before, Then 2 days after Ren is all up on “well I I think Luke is in the right and you should just deal with it” bullshit. Ren began violently raping her right after he said that. I right away noticed that week something was very off with her.
She and I text on a daily basis and she out of nowhere could barely respond within the hour or have full sentences. I asked her if anything was wrong because the only times this ever happened was with her gangrape from almost 7 years ago, and that fucking psycho from 2 years ago. I kept asking if things were okay. I even called her. She just cried but barely said anything and said she was fine. I asked if Ren and Luke were there and know she’s crying. She just got silent for a second and said they know then quickly said she had to go. When she hung up I thought it was fucking weird as hell. I texted Luke and Ren who say she’s just being emotional and she’ll calm down eventually. Which is weird af too. Since they are always right there and make sure she calms down, not just wait for her to chill.
Lily posted on Reddit the day her brother raped her and she noticed her husband was watching and asked reddit for help and said the whole situation but again, no replies. That's about the time when I called her too and the crying on phone thing happened. Shit got fucking worse. They would take turns on her soon after that. And they forced her to orgasm by using something. I’m not gonna go into details, but it was a 100% forced orgasm, as she gets 0 pleasure from anything they do. And that’s when I guess she broke. This was I think a week and a half ago.
I started realizing something was severely fucking wrong with her when 4 days ago I finally got to talk to her. And she was out of it as hell. She talked almost like she was in a daze, she couldn't remember what she did the whole week. She only was in and out of spacing out. She didn't cry at all. But had such a dullness in her voice like she was just completely dead inside. She mumbled something about how maybe she deserved what happens to her in life. Which I didn’t understand what she meant at the time. I asked her how Luke and Ren are. She pretty much looked like she came out of her daze. She said they were okay.
They are happier than she’s ever seen them before. I had this horrible feeling and asked how they are treating her. I never really asked that question before but her reaction is what made me decide to go over here. She just paused. Full on paused and her eyes widened like she was terrified for a second but then stuttered they are good. She only stutters like that when she lies. I Asked her whats going on. She said nothing, with the stutter. I asked what Ren is doing to her which she paused again and said he’s being his usual self. Lied again. She then suddenly said how he’s so affectionate to her. Ren isn’t the type of guy to give affection at all. He never does more than holding hands.
I could tell by the way she described it that she was telling the truth. I asked her why he’s being so kind and she just paused again. And said something like “He’s changed a bit… I guess it's to make up.” and when I asked to make up what, she looked mortified and asked if she said that out loud. I asked about Luke, pretty much the same shit. And I pretty much realized they are doing something to her. But holy shit did I not expect this level of fucked up.
I talked with them and they said okay to me coming over for a few days. If they are doing shit I want to document it at least for proof. Lily is fucking horrible looking. I actually can see her right now and she's sorta just… staring off into space while listening to music. She looks dead inside. Also she hasn’t showered since they first started this. That’s not disgusting as tbh if I was in her shoes I wouldn’t really be fucking coherant enough to prioritize showering either. She has dark circles under her eyes, shes rapidly losing weight. She barely sleep. She’s began to mumble a few times to herself today. I think her mentality is completely deteriorated to even properly think whats right or wrong.
I caught it yesterday. I noticed odd squeaking cries from her, in her room and a shush sound and a smack sound. I thought at first Ren was fucking her since the movement sound. But had this feeling to just check on her. I honestly feel horrible for my reaction. I opened the door. Ren is holding Lily down by the wrists above her head while his dick is right at her face. Luke is balls deep in her and the other 2 freeze and yell at me to get out of the room. Lily pretty much scream cried but was muffled since Ren slapped a hand on her face. I didn’t even think. I just said sorry and just closed the door.
It took me a good 10 seconds to even process and realize what was going on. They didn’t stop by the way but did lock her door. I really have no idea what to do. Those two are so fucking close to me. Were there for me at my worst. But Lily… Lily is there more and longer and I still love her. But I just don’t know what to do about those two. Everyone fucking pretended nothing happened and I pretended I didn’t see anything until much later in the day when I was able to pretty much corner Lily alone in the house because she thought I was gonna do that shit too. And kept avoiding me.
I do have to say the way I went after her wasn't really the best thing. Because I should have approached her calmly. Not spend a whole 5 minutes chasing her through the house and then stand over her like the way I did when she scooted against the wall and sorta just curled into a ball. She begged me not to do what the other two do. I did get to her level after sorta in shock for a few seconds and when I went to touch her shoulder she flinched so I just got on my knees to her level more and talked to her. It took about 10 minutes to convince her I won’t rape her.
I told her to go with me and to be quiet because I don’t want her brother and husband to hear me with her. We went to the garage and she told me everything. I said she needs to leave. Nope. She refused. Absolutely won't even consider it. She says they are so kind to her anyways most of the days and even much better than before and do her favorite things for her when they don’t do that. I got angry. I told her they are using that to condition her to stay. She’s too fucking brainwashed to realize it. She won’t leave because she has stockholm now I guess.
So I just got the idea to kidnap her. Take her away from Ren and Luke. Have her safe. And in time she will realize how horrible they are and what they are doing is wrong. I’ve been already thinking of places those two don’t know. I have thought of how I would keep her there. I know if I tell my eldest brother he will help me. He will even be at my place to watch her too if I need him to. So that when I sleep he’s awake, and when I’m awake he can sleep. Just basically someone up at all times to make sure she can't run away back to them. I can’t get police involved. I still very much care about Ren and Luke.
Also Lily threatened she would rather die than have those two go to jail and she can’t live without them. So she’ll kill herself. She will do it. I know it. She’s too mentally fragile to think straight and will keep to that word. So for not Police and any form of authority is completely not an option. Also her health is so severe that without me or those two she will die. I know what her health is, everyone knows without specific accommodations, it's 100% fatal for her. I looked up every goddamn place for help, she actually did too before she pretty much… went metally gone and stuff. And not a single place can accommodate so she’s screwed if just taken away without me there. Her health is so bad that sometimes she can’t even get up or even change her clothes and needs assistance with it at times since she was 21. She isn’t gonna live to see her 40th birthday, but I want her to have at least a happy and good last 10 years of her life.
The biggest issue I have is that in her post her biggest fear is Ren and Luke manipulating me. Today they started saying things to me as to keep quiet and stuff. Convincing me why calling the police is a bad idea and that she’s gonna just die without them and I know that too. They said how we’ve been so close for so long and I can’t just turn on them. I really don’t know what to do about that. So I really aren't gonna get the police involved. That I’m not changing at all no matter what. My biggest issue is that they talked about the time when i first started fucking Lily. And asked if it felt great doing it like that.
I got pissed off as hell saying I never physically forced her into anything like they have. But they contradicted that and I suddenly remembered that when Lily tried to make excuses I did tell her to shut up and interrupted her and said she owed it to me or some shit like that. And said she lived with me for free so it’s the least she could do. And when she just got quiet I pushed her to the bed and said sexual things to her but after that point she was compliant with me and listened to everything I said and let me do everything to her without even a bit of resistance, and even had an orgasm herself. And in the morning was cheerful as could be but then later cried saying it wasn't about us having sex, but because of her feelings for my brother.
I got really pissed that they knew so much details but they said they got Lily to say it the day before I came here. They said I’m no better than them. It pissed me off more than anything. But I also feel like I myself are completely shutting down mentally. This is so overwhelming. They asked me if I felt powerful and so happy doing it, if I felt like a God, if I felt euphoric. I refused to answer. They took it as a yes. Which actually was a yes, no fuckin hell am I saying it out loud to them. They asked if I wanted to just feel that way again. And I’ve shared her before so what difference would it be. It’s been messing with my head all day. It’s all I can think about all day now.
I look at Lily and almost feel tempted to wanna feel that again, but then just have this horrible crushing feeling in my chest of even considering it. I am on and off thinking I wanna feel that way, and feeling bad and completely refusing to ever want to hurt her. I really fucking need help. Lily pretty much still spacing out and it’s been 2 hours of me writing this. Luke today during dinner made a slut joke at the table, which actually was pretty funny and everyone other than Lily pretty much laughed. And she made some comment which made Luke say something cruel to her. She said something back and he said “Says the one who is having dinner with three people she fucked. How does it feel being in a house of people you fuck?” That's when I got quiet and Lily got up and just went to her room not saying anything else.
I did say that was horrible to him to say and Ren pretty much just said Luke wasn’t lying. And I just continued eating since technically they are right. I ate the rest of Lily’s half eaten sandwich that she left and made her a completely new one which she actually just asked for it finally and I gave it to her a few minutes ago. Also I’m not picking a fight with them because yeah I’m fit n shit, but still it's 2v1. Ren does boxing, Luke does martial arts, I just do normal shit. The only person who could probably take them on is probably my eldest brother since he's the one who actually fucking goes to do martial arts and boxing with Ren and Luke. He’s also 195cm (6’4) so bigger than both of them too.
I’ve never felt emotions like this before. I ever looked at Ren and Luke with so much anger, hatred, but still have the same bond, feeling and loyalty to them and care about them. But also look at Lily with almost temptation but so much pain and desire to help her I feel so sorry and bad for her. Should I kidnap her like I plan on? I thought of doing it on Monday. I’m still adding onto the list of things I should do and how to keep her hidden. It’s all for her own good. I’m gonna help her. I’ll make her better. She will get out of her sick mental state and see the truth and be better. I know she can’t be okay. She probably never will be the same, but she can work on it. My third eldest brother is a therapist anyways for people who are through situations like this. But I’m not gonna say it anything yet as he will just call me a fucking psycho and say I should have called the police by now.
Again, please, what should I do?
TL;DR My best friend who is also my ex girlfriend is being raped by her brother and her husband and who are my 2 best friends in the world. I’m staying with them right now and are playing along, I guess to not raise suspicion as I am trying to kidnap her to get her away from them and to safety before further action. Really want advice if that's a good idea or not.
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2020.10.19 22:49 Atrophied_Silence Hidden sex in hospital

A continuation of my story, The Angels Burned
Check it out here if you have not read the first part

It was gearing up to be a long night.
The place was packed two-deep with thirsty patrons, and our barback was nowhere in sight. I wouldn’t know it until hours later, but he had quit out of the blue, leaving me to manage the tides myself.
The entrance to our pub was tucked away inside a bricked alleyway, marked with a crooked street lamp. Beyond the frontage of oak and stained-glass windows, the inside oozed with old-fashioned character.
A western fireplace fitted with wrought iron pokers, rickety wooden stools, dozens of triple X whiskey water jugs hanging from the ceiling, and old-world goods for display on the dark shelf-lined walls.
The perfect Old West backdrop for tourists.
That’s how all the seasons go in Vail, Colorado.
When visitors weren’t coming to freeze on the slopes, they came rolling in for the summer glamour, the velvety hills, and the smell of fireweed and creek water in the air.
Stressful as it made my shift, and as much as I wanted to wring the barback’s neck for it, I was used to handling things on my own.
It’s how I cut my teeth in the bar trade—my rite of passage, you might call it. Multi-tasking like a maniac, memorizing cocktail recipes, and answering the electrified calls of drunks—maybe a shot or two on the side to take the edge off.
A few of my regulars were perched along the bar—a triad of glossy-lipped girls fresh in their college years. I could never remember their names, but I always remembered which of them tipped the best.
As the three of them laughed noisily and shouted back and forth to each other, I was keeping an eye on the fellow two stools down from them.
He’d strolled in just as they arrived and settled quickly at the bar.
“What are you thinking, boss?” I asked, taking his order.
“Vodka, neat,” he muttered with an inkling of drowsiness. “Keep my tab open.”
His face matched the drink, a hard, marbled expression with nothing else mixed in, straight from the bottle to the glass. He wore a dark coat with a red cap fighting to keep his ruffled hair from poking out. A beard enveloped his mouth and dangled under his chin like that of a billy goat.
He’d been eyeballing the girls for a while, and noticeably, none of them cared for it. As two of the girls went to the restroom and one stayed behind, he took his chance.
Busy as that night was, I couldn’t help but watch him give it his best:
A subtle gesture to her glass followed by a shake of her head.
A little bit of chatter, and another shake of her head.
But Goat Beard would not be swayed, and I heard him asking something along the lines of, “Do you smoke? Want to go out and smoke with me?”
“Sorry, no,” she said, turning her entire body to convey the end of their conversation.
Finally deterred, he left her alone and made his way around the tavern.
Watching him rubber-leg his way over to the dartboards, I wished I had caught how drunk he was before pouring that last drink.
He took a seat near a group of younger guys and watched their darts fly. Whenever one missed its mark or landed clear off the board, the boys—along with their new spectator— erupted with laughter.
He leaned back, teasing the chair on its last two legs, and cackled loudly. Others looked over in curiosity and annoyance until even the jukebox tunes were second to the horsey laughter. The group of guys didn’t seem to mind it. They even welcomed it, with one of them enthusiastically high-fiving him. But eventually, the obnoxious chortling wore out its welcome, and the group made their way elsewhere.
Goat Beard followed and asked one of the boys something—the one that initiated the high-five. Judging by him tapping a V shape against his lips, it seemed like another request to go out and smoke.
The boy shook his head, denying the offer.
Striking out twice, the man stumbled his way back to the bar and reclaimed his seat, hunched over like a brooding Paul Bunyan. He seemed anxious, hands clenched and fingers trembling.
Soon enough, his neck arched back up to me and hollered, “Hey! Another neat, bud.”
“Sorry, man,” I replied bringing him a glass of water, “We’re going to need you to slow down tonight.”
He eyed the water and then blinked bullets at me, “What?!”
“Have to cut you off for now. Just sober up a bit, alright?”
Betrayal crossed his fleecy face like I had spat on a long-lived kinship. “I had one shot, bud. Ain’t even drunk yet. Now pour me another, alright?”
No drunk liked to be 86’d, but such things were necessary in the world of adult baby-sitting. I shook my head at him, “Sorry, you have to sober up a bit.”
“I’m not even drunk,” he challenged me again and then not even a second after, he slammed both palms on the table. “Now take my fuckin’ order!”
He grabbed the glass and doused me with the water I had poured for him.
I signaled for our bouncer who immediately made his way over and locked arms with the disturbance.
“Bastard!” he yelled, digging his heels into the floor, “My money’s good here, my fuckin’ money’s good here!” As he was dragged out and his screams dissipated, onlookers returned to their drinks and conversations.
I wiped off the water as well as I could and went back to work. It wasn’t the first time I’d been swilled by an angry customer, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last.
Ten minutes after the last call, we stopped serving drinks. Thirty minutes after that, we emptied the bar and closed shop.
I counted the money to make sure the checkout was correct, and ran a cursory sweep over the place for any stragglers in the bathroom or under the booths. The last thing we needed was a drunkard waking up to their own alcoholic Wonka factory.
***
The night air always tasted nicer after a long shift, especially if there wasn’t the residue of vomit in the pavement or cigarettes in the air.
I made the short walk to my car, parked in the space reserved for on-duty bartenders. Half the parking lot was glazed in the fluorescent light of a streetlamp, while the other half was covered in 4 a.m. blackness.
As I fished the keys out of my pocket and opened the door, a ring of icy steel pressed against the nape of my neck.
“Don’t,” a voice breathed from behind me as I reactively tried to move away from it.
From the window, I could make out the orange-dipped reflection of a man with a gun and a tufty beard.
“Okay, okay,” I said quietly, my hands pitifully up in front of me. “Take it easy. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Shut up.” Goat Beard grunted, digging the muzzle deeper into the scruff of my neck. “Get in the car.”
I did as he was told and gripped the wheel.
He circled to the passenger door, found that it was locked, and tapped the gun against the glass.
Sure, I could have jammed the keys into the ignition and whipped the car into a screeching reverse, but the short seconds to do that felt much slower than a bullet smashing first through the window then through my skull.
I unlocked the door.
He opened the door and seated himself, the snout of a firearm still marked on me. “Start the car.”
The engine rumbled awake. “Good,” he grinned, the light outside casting a grotesquely clear look of his sweaty pores. Something awful lingered in his breath—the foul musk of a rotten tooth. “Now drive.”
The gravity of the situation hit me all at once, a blast of fear obliterating everything else out of my system. My insides shook like the temperature had just plummeted.
I looked up at my own eyes in the rearview mirror. What I saw was undiluted fear and desperation, “Please,” I whimpered, “I’m sorry for what happened. I really am, man. Take the car, it’s yours, I won’t—”
The hand holding the pistol slammed the dash. “DRIVE!” he screamed in an almost forlorn bellow.
I dropped the gearshift into reverse. As the car’s backside turned and faced us toward the road, I shoved it to drive.
“Go west on the interstate,” the man said clicking in his seatbelt and gestured for me as well. How ironic.
We followed the dark slate of road and slid up the ramp of I-70, heading into the gloomy darkness of the westbound highway.
We drove in silence for some time, during which the tight panic in my chest had shifted to a hot anger. All this for a drink. Really? All this for a goddamned drink?
I’d dealt with angry drunks before. Hell, I thought that I’d dealt with the worst of them. But I’d seen nothing like this. This guy was an entirely new level; he was bat-shit insane.
I slipped a glance at him. His eyes were turned vaguely toward the road. I hated everything about him—his shape in my peripheral, the awful smells wafting off him, his oafish breathing through those whiskers.
Where were we going? What was going to happen when we get there?
Wherever it was, I was running out of time.
Hit the barrier, I thought, and grab the gun when it drops out of his hand. I was tempted, even commencing countdowns in my head to swerve off the road and blindly grab at him in the chaos. I eyed the orange needle of the speedometer, fluttering over seventy miles per hour. Bad idea.
This was not about to become a scene in an action flick for the unscathed hero. It was real life. And in real life bodies hesitate, fingers pull triggers, and both people die in a fiery car crash.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
Instead of a response, I caught the dim, grubby shape of his profile as he flicked open a lighter.
Cigarette smoke wafted out of the mottled formations of his face, no open window for it to escape.
I guess he’d finally found someone to smoke with.
He instructed me to take the next exit and to merge on Highway 24, to follow the mountainside.
At one point, a set of headlights came from the opposite direction. I pushed on the accelerator, bringing the needle up to an illegal ninety, praying that it happened to be a cop ready to have us pulled over. My passenger didn’t seem to notice our gradual rise in speed.
As the car shot right by us, it was, unfortunately, a sedan, probably heading home to a safe, warm bed—a place I should be right now.
A wet belch sighed out of him, and he sucked it back in. Digested alcohol now joined the smells of cigarette tar and a decaying tooth. I prayed for him to vomit and for the vomit to clog up his throat and turn his face blue.
What did he want? To kill me? To demand a ransom for me? My head ached with the possibilities.
There had to be something I could do to get out of this.
“My son’s birthday is next week,” I lied, hoping some form of that would reach the sliver of humanity floating around him somewhere.
He exhaled out a puff of smoke, and that was all.
I kept pushing. “He wanted one of those small cars, the one you have to build the little plastic track for and everything. We were going to have a surprise party for him.”
“Slow down,” he blurted, signaling to an upcoming side road. “Turn here.”
As the road became a C-shaped flank along the mountain, the turn-off practically came out of nowhere.
Ahead of us, a large metal gate meant to block off the path had been left wide open. Someone had taken a pair of bolt cutters to the padlock securing it. Hanging off its side, a sign read in bold letters: Trespassers will be prosecuted.
The road twisted into an aspen-lined path and became much grittier and less kempt. Loose, rocky debris crunched under the tires, and a stray branch snapped like a femur bone. We maneuvered around a few large stones that had tumbled their way along the track.
Houses clad in deformed shingles and decrepit, sagging porches formed out of the darkness around us. Their walls had either crumbled entirely or were coated in elaborate graffiti. Rundown. Abandoned.
The old neighborhood sat in Terrance-like rows along the mountainside, now left to slump along its incline.
A ghost town, one of the many that littered Colorado’s terrain.
“Do you know this place?” Goat Beard asked, surveying the deserted homes himself.
I shook my head, not interested in doing anything else.
“I’ll give you a clue—silver boom of the 1800s, once at the dead center of all zinc and lead mining productions. Back then anyway…”
I wasn’t interested in answering him, and in response to my silence, he shook his rugged head, “Gilman! Come on bud, you don’t know your own state’s history?”
The sudden shift in his tone irked me greatly, like this kidnapping had become a friendly outing together. Fuck you, my thoughts grunted.
Without being prompted, Goat Beard continued, “In 1899, half the mining town was wiped out. The school, the iron-mask hotel, a shaft house—poof!” He flexed his fingers. “All lost to the fire.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His drunken eyes found me again. “Do you know what the townsfolk did? They came together and rebuilt what was lost. Made it better. A tragedy made into a communion. Do you know what I mean?”
I didn’t answer.
“Forest fires—those are tragedies, right? Wrong. They clear out the dead litter, make room for new generations of growth. Thriving in the ashes. That is what we need, you know? That is what this cold, fuckin’ world needs.” He was slurring to himself more than to me now, “Men, woman, everyone out there prays to some distant God, crying for the angels to fly down and save us. But he is out of angels to send, so we must abide. We must make them.”
His gaze shifted, a bent smile forming in the scruff. “Thank you.” He almost wept. “Thank you for making me choose you.”
Truly, it was the sudden giddiness in his voice that scared me the most, like the very reason he’d drank himself half to death tonight had finally been resolved.
The neighborhood led us to the town area, where we passed by an old workshop, a sun-bleached garage, and two Gilman dump trucks, their sides plastered with ancient mud. From out of the cracks, weeds had pushed their way through the untended turf.
"We’re here. Stop,” Goat Beard snapped as he rolled down the window to flick out his cigarette.
We came to a stop before a large, boxy building. Though it was one of the many paint-flaking fossils surrounding us, this structure looked especially dismal. Its once-white coat was murky with age. The few windows that weren’t clouded with grime were entirely blown out, their bits of glass shimmering like teeth in the moonlight.
More graffiti lined its base in one of which sat the grey outline of a cat. And sprouting atop the structure’s roof sat a single cracked chimney.
“Shut it off,” Goat Beard ordered again, gesturing obnoxiously toward my keys and then grabbing them as I did so.
Out from the building’s dark entryway, a silhouette came.
My insides rippled with fear at the sight.
This was it, the end of our journey together. Of course, this would be the perfect place to make me disappear. Nobody would know, and even if someone found me, they’d only stumble upon my corpse, rotting like everything else in this toxic place.
I was done playing ball. This was going to end my way, not theirs.
As Goat Beard moved to open his side of the car, I snatched at his gun.
My fingers locked around his wrist and jerked to the side to spin the barrel away from me. Its nozzle smacked against the dashboard, but his grip remained locked tight around it.
I yanked again, harder this time, using whatever leverage I could muster in the tight, little space we were in.
The parts of his face still visible to me were screwed with anger.
“Son of a bitch!” he screamed, trying to wrestle my hands off of him, growling like an angry dog.
My thoughts were loud, screaming in a unified chorus: Take it, take it, take it! That is all I cared about, all I wanted in the world. To take it meant the end of this horrible night, to live through it.
I pried desperately at his grubby fingers, feeling them starting to break their hold.
As from out of nowhere, a calloused fist struck my face. Pressure filled the inside of my cheek and made it clench. His free hand struck again, even harder this time. My head flopped back, but my hands only clutched tighter.
The gun was almost out of his grip, almost in mine.
Then there was a sound behind me, and a pair of hands ripped me right out of the driver’s seat.
The underside of my legs scraped painfully across the gravel, and before everything stopped spinning, I was pinned on my stomach.
A broad knee dug between my shoulders. Something looped around my wrists and then bit into them as tight bracelets. Zip ties.
“Easy! Easy, guy,” a new voice spoke, infuriatingly calm.
I heard the passenger side close as Goat Beard bustled over to join whoever had a hold of me.
I spat and cursed at them, feeling sharp bits of grit push into my cheek.
“He’s a troublemaker,” Goat Beard jeered, hawking a gob of mucus on me.
My teeth ached and the blood was rushing to my left cheek, probably swelling like a balloon.
Without warning, the two men yanked me up to my knees, crammed something into my mouth, and slapped a streak of duct tape over my lips.
“That’ll put a muzzle on him,” Goat Beard chuckled, proud of himself.
The man who had just pushed his fingers into my mouth nodded. He was much taller, with a bristled frosty chin and a nose permanently bent to the side.
“Listen,” he spoke with that collected voice, “if you keep causing trouble, I will have to take this…” He held up a knife and pressed it up to my groin, “and unzip your sack. So, behave, huh?”
I stopped struggling at the sight of it.
Whatever they’d just shoved in my mouth rolled along my tongue. It felt like a tablet—some kind of drug, maybe. In no way was I going to swallow it, but that wouldn’t stop it from dissolving anyway.
“We need to hurry,” Goat Beard mumbled, to which Bent-Nose nodded and lead me into the wretched building.
Inside, they walked me down a short, cramped hallway.
The air I had to force in and out of my nostrils was stale and feverishly thick. Mold had built up and crawled down the wall from the ceiling, trailing along the cracks.
The interior of the room we entered resembled a kind of workshop, somewhat lit by a flashlight propped up on a table.
In its beam, someone else had their back to us. A hunching figure with a veiny bald head and a raw-hide coat that hung off his wiry frame.
He was dipping his fingers into what looked like a jar and smearing it in oval strokes on the wall, humming a hymn while he did so.
Piled along the left flank of the wall were heaps of worn medical equipment, pushed aside and left in a dusty pile.
Paper and negatives from an X-ray were littered all over the floor.
This was a hospital—or at least something along the lines of one.
Behind the mound of grimy equipment, a woman was hunched against the wall.
Her dark eyes peered up from the duct tape, cheeks creased with eye shadow, and her face sagging with the weight of hopelessness. As our eyes met, neither found comfort in the other.
I felt the urge to gag as the thing in my mouth melted into a bitter glaze. It tasted horrible.
“Are we ready?” Goat Beard asked from behind me, his gun pressed firmly into my spine.
“Almost,” Skinny replied, turning his pointy face toward us before returning to the thing he was creating. His wide eyes held a fierce intensity behind them.
Bent-Nose joined him, grabbing a jar of his own and streaking the same circled pattern over the next half of the room.
Dozens were on the walls—large red circles filled with six inner rings. Grayish chalky writing had been scribbled into them. Not words at all, but layers upon layers of gibberish all winding toward the sphere’s center.
They seemed like sigils, like ones you might find in a cult.
That explained Goat Beard’s crazy speak, but what was this, really? Our captors didn’t strike me as cultists with robes and hidden, hooded faces. They were more a gang of scruffy misfits showing off their toys.
I looked at the woman. Her eyes had gone elsewhere, swaying and wobbling around the room. Muffled, droning sounds buzzed behind the duct tape. She was on something, probably the same thing they’d forced-fed me. To keep us “muzzled.”
“Alright!” Skinny spoke excitedly, clapping his spattered hands. “Who should we start with?”
“Her,” Bent-Nose spoke, gesturing to the girl who continued to sway and teeter in her corner.
Skinny looked at the woman, and then blinked back at him with irritation, “What are you doing? Where are her restraints?”
Bent-Nose scoffed at him, “She’s high as a kite, wouldn’t even notice a fly on her face right now.”
“That isn’t the point,” Skinny snapped. “Do you want this to end up like the Moselys? Think!”
Musing on that, Bent-Nose fastened the cables over her wrists and yanked her off the ground, her bare feet dragging along the floor.
As she was laid in the center of the room, she rested whimsically on her back, putting up as much fight as a sex doll. He ripped the duct tape from her mouth before leaving her there.
A pause fell over the room, and then the men began to chant in unison. It swelled from their throats, pulling straight from the chest and meshing together into a low, prolonged baritone.
In the poor acoustics of the room, their voices bounced off the stained walls, gaining more volume with an unmistakable deep, powerful devotion.
Between their vocals, Skinny spoke out, straining his lungs into some gravel-throat language.
I was starting to feel clammy and prickly all over the place.
My mind focused on breathing—sucking in the awful fumes around me of body odor and decay.
As my heart pumped frantically, I tried to focus on its rhythm, tried to ignore the sounds of vibrating vocal cords rumbling my ears.
I forced down a swallow and breathed. The drug couldn’t be affecting me now, could it? This quickly?
The walls around us didn’t feel like walls anymore, but massive slabs of canvas coated in waxy circles. Awful art. Horrible, awful art.
The voices rose, heaving out their vocals even louder.
My leg muscles squeezed together, then relaxed, like taffy being rolled and stretched from a machine.
I wanted to sit down—to sit down and breathe. But as I started to drift downward, Goat Beard forcefully hoisted me back up again. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Are you feeling it? Are you feeling the good shit, yet?” His words trickled with them a warm, rotten breath.
Whatever harness keeping my thoughts together was loosening. I wanted to squeeze into one of the cracks around us, to sleep and make the bad world go away.
The walls started to move, puffing in and out in perfect tandem with my wheezing chest. In. Out. In. Out.
Even the sigils moved, shivering their waxy bodies with the dark chorus. Within them, the chalky figures danced and wriggled with such life I almost believed they each had their own pulse.
That was when I saw the fire.
It clawed over her, starting as a bluish ripple that quickly flared into a bright, savage red.
Even as the burst of heat rolled over my face, I didn’t think it was real. The men hadn’t ignited her—or doused her in anything—or even flicked a match. A hallucination, that’s it. I’m hallucinating, my mind pleaded, trying to grip its last fibers of that harness.
But the sound of her screaming was what made it real. She bucked and writhed beneath the flames, crying out for any of us to help her.
Smoke burrowed into my nostrils and bristled the back of my throat. I retched emptily into the duct tape and tried to pull away, only to be forced back toward her.
“Watch,” Goat Beard hissed, only stopping his chants to whisper into my ear, “Watch the angel shine.”
I could smell her hair burning. Her skin roasting.
Faces appeared around her, forming with the blaze and then in the same instant, rippled into the smog.
She screamed until her throat split and her echoes fell to a dry, breathless yowl.
The ties bounding her hands had finally snapped and released them to flail helplessly about.
All the while, the strident chants continued, feeding the inferno as it spat more pieces of her into the air.
They sang, they cheered, and as their shadows throbbed up and down the walls, I could swear those changed as well. Oily shapes with bodies contorted and torturously stretched into things not even remotely human.
Skinny stood the closest to the burning woman, both hands raised in sadistic glee over their living kindle. Just another man outside these walls, but here in the firelight, he looked like the devil.
Psychopaths. Monsters!
I fought in Goat Beards grip, jerking my head back to break his nose, kicking my feet backward toward his knees. I couldn’t stomach any more.
Something blunt struck the back of my head. I keeled over onto my knees. Even in a drugged-up daze, the static spreading around my skull told me I’d just been pistol-whipped.
The last of the strained cries finally crept from the woman’s throat as she succumbed to a crackling silence.
I thought she was finally gone, prayed for it even.
However, she convulsed once more, turning her stomach up and letting her head hang downward—now looking at me.
I saw her face clearly. Her skin resurfaced with blisters and curling raw patches. Her nose a mottled stump of white seared tissue. And the last remnants of her hair coiling against a ruined scalp.
Then her lips, which had dried to thin scabs, suddenly parted.
I expected another hellish scream to empty out of her, but it was something else—a warped laugh only possible with a throat full of charcoal. Laughing hysterically in an upside down-grimace.
Though no eyes were left in her sockets, I could feel their gaze swallow me up.
Stop, I whimpered internally, please stop looking at me.
Her suffering had ended, but in its place, something different had taken its place, clawing its way out of the burn.
The laughing seized as she struggled back to her feet, standing tall in the lashing flames. Fragments of clothing hung from her grizzled frame, fused to the skin.
The chorus of the men had stopped as they backed away from her, like lion tamers who had suddenly lost their whips.
She seemed to pay them no mind as her neck slowly swiveled around the room, eyeing up each of the hastily smeared sigils.
Her heels scraped against the floor as she chose one of them and gradually shambled toward it.
Upon reaching the crest, her body collapsed forward. A skull-rending crunch resounded from the impact and left her limply against it. Pieces of her torso—followed by everything else—began to fall away from her, dispersing in blackened particles.
The flames shrank and sputtered as more of her body broke down into fine-grained piles around her. Before long, she had crumbled to nothingness, a vague smear of her existence marred into the wall.
As the last of the embers fizzled in their ashes, the room returned to its heavy darkness.
“Beautiful!” Skinny cheered, looking like he’d just wiped away a tear, though it was probably to rub the sweat off his face. Those wide, intense eyes traveled to me, “One down, one to go.”
I looked once more at the crest on the wall, smothered by the left-over shape of a woman.
Then I was on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.
They’d left me in the same spot, peppered with her ashes. Beneath me, the scorched floor burned against my spine.
Goat Beard smiled as he tore the duct tape from my mouth. Why? So, they could hear me scream next?
My limbs had jellied into uselessness. Maybe from the fear, or maybe from whatever godforsaken substance they’d forced into my system.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought about my parents’ faces and the last time I’d seen them. I thought about my first bar gig, and how many times I had messed up the mixes.
An angry shout tried to tear out of my throat but was rasped short by how raw it had become.
I didn’t want to die. Not here, not in this demonic place.
When the chanting started again, I squeezed the tears shut, and prayed for my nerves to burn quickly.
Then the sounds stopped.
Silence stilled the room, save for a few scraping feet.
“What was that?” Bent-Nose spoke. “You hear that?”
“Go check it out,” Skinny ordered as a set of shoes pattered out of the room.
A few anxious mumbles passed between him and Goat Beard until a flurry of shouts rang from the hallway.
Both of them beat past me and ran toward the disturbance.
Something surged through my body—an electricity which kicked my limbs from their paralysis and back to working order.
I pulled my upper half from the ground and into a sitting position. Once my feet were under me, I got myself back to standing. Just being vertical again filled me with absolute joy.
The sounds from outside came as incoherent barks from the hall until they were silenced by a loud crack then two more in its place—gunshots.
I pulled my arms below my body and carefully lifted one leg at a time over my wrists, bringing them back to the front of me.
After that, I brought both over my head and threw them down into my stomach. The ties didn’t break. I tried again, raising them as high as I could. Break, you bastards, and slammed them down even harder.
The locking mechanism snapped, finally freeing my hands.
From behind the thin walls shuffling movements registered from the outside. “My ear!” a voice bellowed sounding very much like Goat Beard’s slurred speech, “Shot—my fuckin’ ear!”
Car doors opened and closed as an engine revved to life and an accelerator was depressed. They sped off, retreating from something.
As I twisted myself toward the exit, a man was now standing there, his gun pointed at me. “Stay away!” I screamed haggardly at him. “Stay the hell away from me!”
“Take it easy, I’m not one of them,” the man said lowering his weapon, a whole new face in the fray.
We stood at an impasse inside the acrid, unlit room. I wanted to believe he was my rescue, but my nerves were shot. The fact that things around me hadn’t stopped moving didn’t help.
His eyes scanned the workshop and settled on the human-shaped scar on the wall. A look of familiarity tensed his features. “Do you know where you are right now? Were you forced to come here?”
“Please,” I breathed, “just let me get out of this place.”
He nodded in agreement and led the way through the narrow hallway.
The fresh night air prickled down my throat and coughed back out of me. I bent over and retched into the ground. The ashes were all over me, on my clothes, in my hair.
The stranger retreated from me, almost like he was expecting something to suddenly happen. When nothing did, he cautiously drew closer. “My name’s Tucker, can you tell me yours?”
“Peter,” I responded, blowing the remaining spittle off my lips. “Are you a cop?”
“I used to be.” He itched the back of his neck, then continued “I need you to tell me everything that happened here Peter, everything that you can remember. Can you do that for me?”
I looked up at him and rubbed the imprints dented into my wrists, “You aren’t going to believe any of it.”
The ex-officer then smiled, “Try me.”
submitted by Atrophied_Silence to DrCreepensVault [link] [comments]


2020.10.19 22:46 Atrophied_Silence Hidden sex in hospital

A continuation of my story, The Angels Burned
Check it out here if you have not read the first part


It was gearing up to be a long night.
The place was packed two-deep with thirsty patrons, and our barback was nowhere in sight. I wouldn’t know it until hours later, but he had quit out of the blue, leaving me to manage the tides myself.
The entrance to our pub was tucked away inside a bricked alleyway, marked with a crooked street lamp. Beyond the frontage of oak and stained-glass windows, the inside oozed with old-fashioned character.
A western fireplace fitted with wrought iron pokers, rickety wooden stools, dozens of triple X whiskey water jugs hanging from the ceiling, and old-world goods for display on the dark shelf-lined walls.
The perfect Old West backdrop for tourists.
That’s how all the seasons go in Vail, Colorado.
When visitors weren’t coming to freeze on the slopes, they came rolling in for the summer glamour, the velvety hills, and the smell of fireweed and creek water in the air.
Stressful as it made my shift, and as much as I wanted to wring the barback’s neck for it, I was used to handling things on my own.
It’s how I cut my teeth in the bar trade—my rite of passage, you might call it. Multi-tasking like a maniac, memorizing cocktail recipes, and answering the electrified calls of drunks—maybe a shot or two on the side to take the edge off.
A few of my regulars were perched along the bar—a triad of glossy-lipped girls fresh in their college years. I could never remember their names, but I always remembered which of them tipped the best.
As the three of them laughed noisily and shouted back and forth to each other, I was keeping an eye on the fellow two stools down from them.
He’d strolled in just as they arrived and settled quickly at the bar.
“What are you thinking, boss?” I asked, taking his order.
“Vodka, neat,” he muttered with an inkling of drowsiness. “Keep my tab open.”
His face matched the drink, a hard, marbled expression with nothing else mixed in, straight from the bottle to the glass. He wore a dark coat with a red cap fighting to keep his ruffled hair from poking out. A beard enveloped his mouth and dangled under his chin like that of a billy goat.
He’d been eyeballing the girls for a while, and noticeably, none of them cared for it. As two of the girls went to the restroom and one stayed behind, he took his chance.
Busy as that night was, I couldn’t help but watch him give it his best:
A subtle gesture to her glass followed by a shake of her head.
A little bit of chatter, and another shake of her head.
But Goat Beard would not be swayed, and I heard him asking something along the lines of, “Do you smoke? Want to go out and smoke with me?”
“Sorry, no,” she said, turning her entire body to convey the end of their conversation.
Finally deterred, he left her alone and made his way around the tavern.
Watching him rubber-leg his way over to the dartboards, I wished I had caught how drunk he was before pouring that last drink.
He took a seat near a group of younger guys and watched their darts fly. Whenever one missed its mark or landed clear off the board, the boys—along with their new spectator— erupted with laughter.
He leaned back, teasing the chair on its last two legs, and cackled loudly. Others looked over in curiosity and annoyance until even the jukebox tunes were second to the horsey laughter. The group of guys didn’t seem to mind it. They even welcomed it, with one of them enthusiastically high-fiving him. But eventually, the obnoxious chortling wore out its welcome, and the group made their way elsewhere.
Goat Beard followed and asked one of the boys something—the one that initiated the high-five. Judging by him tapping a V shape against his lips, it seemed like another request to go out and smoke.
The boy shook his head, denying the offer.
Striking out twice, the man stumbled his way back to the bar and reclaimed his seat, hunched over like a brooding Paul Bunyan. He seemed anxious, hands clenched and fingers trembling.
Soon enough, his neck arched back up to me and hollered, “Hey! Another neat, bud.”
“Sorry, man,” I replied bringing him a glass of water, “We’re going to need you to slow down tonight.”
He eyed the water and then blinked bullets at me, “What?!”
“Have to cut you off for now. Just sober up a bit, alright?”
Betrayal crossed his fleecy face like I had spat on a long-lived kinship. “I had one shot, bud. Ain’t even drunk yet. Now pour me another, alright?”
No drunk liked to be 86’d, but such things were necessary in the world of adult baby-sitting. I shook my head at him, “Sorry, you have to sober up a bit.”
“I’m not even drunk,” he challenged me again and then not even a second after, he slammed both palms on the table. “Now take my fuckin’ order!”
He grabbed the glass and doused me with the water I had poured for him.
I signaled for our bouncer who immediately made his way over and locked arms with the disturbance.
“Bastard!” he yelled, digging his heels into the floor, “My money’s good here, my fuckin’ money’s good here!” As he was dragged out and his screams dissipated, onlookers returned to their drinks and conversations.
I wiped off the water as well as I could and went back to work. It wasn’t the first time I’d been swilled by an angry customer, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last.
Ten minutes after the last call, we stopped serving drinks. Thirty minutes after that, we emptied the bar and closed shop.
I counted the money to make sure the checkout was correct, and ran a cursory sweep over the place for any stragglers in the bathroom or under the booths. The last thing we needed was a drunkard waking up to their own alcoholic Wonka factory.
***
The night air always tasted nicer after a long shift, especially if there wasn’t the residue of vomit in the pavement or cigarettes in the air.
I made the short walk to my car, parked in the space reserved for on-duty bartenders. Half the parking lot was glazed in the fluorescent light of a streetlamp, while the other half was covered in 4 a.m. blackness.
As I fished the keys out of my pocket and opened the door, a ring of icy steel pressed against the nape of my neck.
“Don’t,” a voice breathed from behind me as I reactively tried to move away from it.
From the window, I could make out the orange-dipped reflection of a man with a gun and a tufty beard.
“Okay, okay,” I said quietly, my hands pitifully up in front of me. “Take it easy. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Shut up.” Goat Beard grunted, digging the muzzle deeper into the scruff of my neck. “Get in the car.”
I did as he was told and gripped the wheel.
He circled to the passenger door, found that it was locked, and tapped the gun against the glass.
Sure, I could have jammed the keys into the ignition and whipped the car into a screeching reverse, but the short seconds to do that felt much slower than a bullet smashing first through the window then through my skull.
I unlocked the door.
He opened the door and seated himself, the snout of a firearm still marked on me. “Start the car.”
The engine rumbled awake. “Good,” he grinned, the light outside casting a grotesquely clear look of his sweaty pores. Something awful lingered in his breath—the foul musk of a rotten tooth. “Now drive.”
The gravity of the situation hit me all at once, a blast of fear obliterating everything else out of my system. My insides shook like the temperature had just plummeted.
I looked up at my own eyes in the rearview mirror. What I saw was undiluted fear and desperation, “Please,” I whimpered, “I’m sorry for what happened. I really am, man. Take the car, it’s yours, I won’t—”
The hand holding the pistol slammed the dash. “DRIVE!” he screamed in an almost forlorn bellow.
I dropped the gearshift into reverse. As the car’s backside turned and faced us toward the road, I shoved it to drive.
“Go west on the interstate,” the man said clicking in his seatbelt and gestured for me as well. How ironic.
We followed the dark slate of road and slid up the ramp of I-70, heading into the gloomy darkness of the westbound highway.
We drove in silence for some time, during which the tight panic in my chest had shifted to a hot anger. All this for a drink. Really? All this for a goddamned drink?
I’d dealt with angry drunks before. Hell, I thought that I’d dealt with the worst of them. But I’d seen nothing like this. This guy was an entirely new level; he was bat-shit insane.
I slipped a glance at him. His eyes were turned vaguely toward the road. I hated everything about him—his shape in my peripheral, the awful smells wafting off him, his oafish breathing through those whiskers.
Where were we going? What was going to happen when we get there?
Wherever it was, I was running out of time.
Hit the barrier, I thought, and grab the gun when it drops out of his hand. I was tempted, even commencing countdowns in my head to swerve off the road and blindly grab at him in the chaos. I eyed the orange needle of the speedometer, fluttering over seventy miles per hour. Bad idea.
This was not about to become a scene in an action flick for the unscathed hero. It was real life. And in real life bodies hesitate, fingers pull triggers, and both people die in a fiery car crash.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
Instead of a response, I caught the dim, grubby shape of his profile as he flicked open a lighter.
Cigarette smoke wafted out of the mottled formations of his face, no open window for it to escape.
I guess he’d finally found someone to smoke with.
He instructed me to take the next exit and to merge on Highway 24, to follow the mountainside.
At one point, a set of headlights came from the opposite direction. I pushed on the accelerator, bringing the needle up to an illegal ninety, praying that it happened to be a cop ready to have us pulled over. My passenger didn’t seem to notice our gradual rise in speed.
As the car shot right by us, it was, unfortunately, a sedan, probably heading home to a safe, warm bed—a place I should be right now.
A wet belch sighed out of him, and he sucked it back in. Digested alcohol now joined the smells of cigarette tar and a decaying tooth. I prayed for him to vomit and for the vomit to clog up his throat and turn his face blue.
What did he want? To kill me? To demand a ransom for me? My head ached with the possibilities.
There had to be something I could do to get out of this.
“My son’s birthday is next week,” I lied, hoping some form of that would reach the sliver of humanity floating around him somewhere.
He exhaled out a puff of smoke, and that was all.
I kept pushing. “He wanted one of those small cars, the one you have to build the little plastic track for and everything. We were going to have a surprise party for him.”
“Slow down,” he blurted, signaling to an upcoming side road. “Turn here.”
As the road became a C-shaped flank along the mountain, the turn-off practically came out of nowhere.
Ahead of us, a large metal gate meant to block off the path had been left wide open. Someone had taken a pair of bolt cutters to the padlock securing it. Hanging off its side, a sign read in bold letters: Trespassers will be prosecuted.
The road twisted into an aspen-lined path and became much grittier and less kempt. Loose, rocky debris crunched under the tires, and a stray branch snapped like a femur bone. We maneuvered around a few large stones that had tumbled their way along the track.
Houses clad in deformed shingles and decrepit, sagging porches formed out of the darkness around us. Their walls had either crumbled entirely or were coated in elaborate graffiti. Rundown. Abandoned.
The old neighborhood sat in Terrance-like rows along the mountainside, now left to slump along its incline.
A ghost town, one of the many that littered Colorado’s terrain.
“Do you know this place?” Goat Beard asked, surveying the deserted homes himself.
I shook my head, not interested in doing anything else.
“I’ll give you a clue—silver boom of the 1800s, once at the dead center of all zinc and lead mining productions. Back then anyway…”
I wasn’t interested in answering him, and in response to my silence, he shook his rugged head, “Gilman! Come on bud, you don’t know your own state’s history?”
The sudden shift in his tone irked me greatly, like this kidnapping had become a friendly outing together. Fuck you, my thoughts grunted.
Without being prompted, Goat Beard continued, “In 1899, half the mining town was wiped out. The school, the iron-mask hotel, a shaft house—poof!” He flexed his fingers. “All lost to the fire.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His drunken eyes found me again. “Do you know what the townsfolk did? They came together and rebuilt what was lost. Made it better. A tragedy made into a communion. Do you know what I mean?”
I didn’t answer.
“Forest fires—those are tragedies, right? Wrong. They clear out the dead litter, make room for new generations of growth. Thriving in the ashes. That is what we need, you know? That is what this cold, fuckin’ world needs.” He was slurring to himself more than to me now, “Men, woman, everyone out there prays to some distant God, crying for the angels to fly down and save us. But he is out of angels to send, so we must abide. We must make them.”
His gaze shifted, a bent smile forming in the scruff. “Thank you.” He almost wept. “Thank you for making me choose you.”
Truly, it was the sudden giddiness in his voice that scared me the most, like the very reason he’d drank himself half to death tonight had finally been resolved.
The neighborhood led us to the town area, where we passed by an old workshop, a sun-bleached garage, and two Gilman dump trucks, their sides plastered with ancient mud. From out of the cracks, weeds had pushed their way through the untended turf.
"We’re here. Stop,” Goat Beard snapped as he rolled down the window to flick out his cigarette.
We came to a stop before a large, boxy building. Though it was one of the many paint-flaking fossils surrounding us, this structure looked especially dismal. Its once-white coat was murky with age. The few windows that weren’t clouded with grime were entirely blown out, their bits of glass shimmering like teeth in the moonlight.
More graffiti lined its base in one of which sat the grey outline of a cat. And sprouting atop the structure’s roof sat a single cracked chimney.
“Shut it off,” Goat Beard ordered again, gesturing obnoxiously toward my keys and then grabbing them as I did so.
Out from the building’s dark entryway, a silhouette came.
My insides rippled with fear at the sight.
This was it, the end of our journey together. Of course, this would be the perfect place to make me disappear. Nobody would know, and even if someone found me, they’d only stumble upon my corpse, rotting like everything else in this toxic place.
I was done playing ball. This was going to end my way, not theirs.
As Goat Beard moved to open his side of the car, I snatched at his gun.
My fingers locked around his wrist and jerked to the side to spin the barrel away from me. Its nozzle smacked against the dashboard, but his grip remained locked tight around it.
I yanked again, harder this time, using whatever leverage I could muster in the tight, little space we were in.
The parts of his face still visible to me were screwed with anger.
“Son of a bitch!” he screamed, trying to wrestle my hands off of him, growling like an angry dog.
My thoughts were loud, screaming in a unified chorus: Take it, take it, take it! That is all I cared about, all I wanted in the world. To take it meant the end of this horrible night, to live through it.
I pried desperately at his grubby fingers, feeling them starting to break their hold.
As from out of nowhere, a calloused fist struck my face. Pressure filled the inside of my cheek and made it clench. His free hand struck again, even harder this time. My head flopped back, but my hands only clutched tighter.
The gun was almost out of his grip, almost in mine.
Then there was a sound behind me, and a pair of hands ripped me right out of the driver’s seat.
The underside of my legs scraped painfully across the gravel, and before everything stopped spinning, I was pinned on my stomach.
A broad knee dug between my shoulders. Something looped around my wrists and then bit into them as tight bracelets. Zip ties.
“Easy! Easy, guy,” a new voice spoke, infuriatingly calm.
I heard the passenger side close as Goat Beard bustled over to join whoever had a hold of me.
I spat and cursed at them, feeling sharp bits of grit push into my cheek.
“He’s a troublemaker,” Goat Beard jeered, hawking a gob of mucus on me.
My teeth ached and the blood was rushing to my left cheek, probably swelling like a balloon.
Without warning, the two men yanked me up to my knees, crammed something into my mouth, and slapped a streak of duct tape over my lips.
“That’ll put a muzzle on him,” Goat Beard chuckled, proud of himself.
The man who had just pushed his fingers into my mouth nodded. He was much taller, with a bristled frosty chin and a nose permanently bent to the side.
“Listen,” he spoke with that collected voice, “if you keep causing trouble, I will have to take this…” He held up a knife and pressed it up to my groin, “and unzip your sack. So, behave, huh?”
I stopped struggling at the sight of it.
Whatever they’d just shoved in my mouth rolled along my tongue. It felt like a tablet—some kind of drug, maybe. In no way was I going to swallow it, but that wouldn’t stop it from dissolving anyway.
“We need to hurry,” Goat Beard mumbled, to which Bent-Nose nodded and lead me into the wretched building.
Inside, they walked me down a short, cramped hallway.
The air I had to force in and out of my nostrils was stale and feverishly thick. Mold had built up and crawled down the wall from the ceiling, trailing along the cracks.
The interior of the room we entered resembled a kind of workshop, somewhat lit by a flashlight propped up on a table.
In its beam, someone else had their back to us. A hunching figure with a veiny bald head and a raw-hide coat that hung off his wiry frame.
He was dipping his fingers into what looked like a jar and smearing it in oval strokes on the wall, humming a hymn while he did so.
Piled along the left flank of the wall were heaps of worn medical equipment, pushed aside and left in a dusty pile.
Paper and negatives from an X-ray were littered all over the floor.
This was a hospital—or at least something along the lines of one.
Behind the mound of grimy equipment, a woman was hunched against the wall.
Her dark eyes peered up from the duct tape, cheeks creased with eye shadow, and her face sagging with the weight of hopelessness. As our eyes met, neither found comfort in the other.
I felt the urge to gag as the thing in my mouth melted into a bitter glaze. It tasted horrible.
“Are we ready?” Goat Beard asked from behind me, his gun pressed firmly into my spine.
“Almost,” Skinny replied, turning his pointy face toward us before returning to the thing he was creating. His wide eyes held a fierce intensity behind them.
Bent-Nose joined him, grabbing a jar of his own and streaking the same circled pattern over the next half of the room.
Dozens were on the walls—large red circles filled with six inner rings. Grayish chalky writing had been scribbled into them. Not words at all, but layers upon layers of gibberish all winding toward the sphere’s center.
They seemed like sigils, like ones you might find in a cult.
That explained Goat Beard’s crazy speak, but what was this, really? Our captors didn’t strike me as cultists with robes and hidden, hooded faces. They were more a gang of scruffy misfits showing off their toys.
I looked at the woman. Her eyes had gone elsewhere, swaying and wobbling around the room. Muffled, droning sounds buzzed behind the duct tape. She was on something, probably the same thing they’d forced-fed me. To keep us “muzzled.”
“Alright!” Skinny spoke excitedly, clapping his spattered hands. “Who should we start with?”
“Her,” Bent-Nose spoke, gesturing to the girl who continued to sway and teeter in her corner.
Skinny looked at the woman, and then blinked back at him with irritation, “What are you doing? Where are her restraints?”
Bent-Nose scoffed at him, “She’s high as a kite, wouldn’t even notice a fly on her face right now.”
“That isn’t the point,” Skinny snapped. “Do you want this to end up like the Moselys? Think!”
Musing on that, Bent-Nose fastened the cables over her wrists and yanked her off the ground, her bare feet dragging along the floor.
As she was laid in the center of the room, she rested whimsically on her back, putting up as much fight as a sex doll. He ripped the duct tape from her mouth before leaving her there.
A pause fell over the room, and then the men began to chant in unison. It swelled from their throats, pulling straight from the chest and meshing together into a low, prolonged baritone.
In the poor acoustics of the room, their voices bounced off the stained walls, gaining more volume with an unmistakable deep, powerful devotion.
Between their vocals, Skinny spoke out, straining his lungs into some gravel-throat language.
I was starting to feel clammy and prickly all over the place.
My mind focused on breathing—sucking in the awful fumes around me of body odor and decay.
As my heart pumped frantically, I tried to focus on its rhythm, tried to ignore the sounds of vibrating vocal cords rumbling my ears.
I forced down a swallow and breathed. The drug couldn’t be affecting me now, could it? This quickly?
The walls around us didn’t feel like walls anymore, but massive slabs of canvas coated in waxy circles. Awful art. Horrible, awful art.
The voices rose, heaving out their vocals even louder.
My leg muscles squeezed together, then relaxed, like taffy being rolled and stretched from a machine.
I wanted to sit down—to sit down and breathe. But as I started to drift downward, Goat Beard forcefully hoisted me back up again. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Are you feeling it? Are you feeling the good shit, yet?” His words trickled with them a warm, rotten breath.
Whatever harness keeping my thoughts together was loosening. I wanted to squeeze into one of the cracks around us, to sleep and make the bad world go away.
The walls started to move, puffing in and out in perfect tandem with my wheezing chest. In. Out. In. Out.
Even the sigils moved, shivering their waxy bodies with the dark chorus. Within them, the chalky figures danced and wriggled with such life I almost believed they each had their own pulse.
That was when I saw the fire.
It clawed over her, starting as a bluish ripple that quickly flared into a bright, savage red.
Even as the burst of heat rolled over my face, I didn’t think it was real. The men hadn’t ignited her—or doused her in anything—or even flicked a match. A hallucination, that’s it. I’m hallucinating, my mind pleaded, trying to grip its last fibers of that harness.
But the sound of her screaming was what made it real. She bucked and writhed beneath the flames, crying out for any of us to help her.
Smoke burrowed into my nostrils and bristled the back of my throat. I retched emptily into the duct tape and tried to pull away, only to be forced back toward her.
“Watch,” Goat Beard hissed, only stopping his chants to whisper into my ear, “Watch the angel shine.”
I could smell her hair burning. Her skin roasting.
Faces appeared around her, forming with the blaze and then in the same instant, rippled into the smog.
She screamed until her throat split and her echoes fell to a dry, breathless yowl.
The ties bounding her hands had finally snapped and released them to flail helplessly about.
All the while, the strident chants continued, feeding the inferno as it spat more pieces of her into the air.
They sang, they cheered, and as their shadows throbbed up and down the walls, I could swear those changed as well. Oily shapes with bodies contorted and torturously stretched into things not even remotely human.
Skinny stood the closest to the burning woman, both hands raised in sadistic glee over their living kindle. Just another man outside these walls, but here in the firelight, he looked like the devil.
Psychopaths. Monsters!
I fought in Goat Beards grip, jerking my head back to break his nose, kicking my feet backward toward his knees. I couldn’t stomach any more.
Something blunt struck the back of my head. I keeled over onto my knees. Even in a drugged-up daze, the static spreading around my skull told me I’d just been pistol-whipped.
The last of the strained cries finally crept from the woman’s throat as she succumbed to a crackling silence.
I thought she was finally gone, prayed for it even.
However, she convulsed once more, turning her stomach up and letting her head hang downward—now looking at me.
I saw her face clearly. Her skin resurfaced with blisters and curling raw patches. Her nose a mottled stump of white seared tissue. And the last remnants of her hair coiling against a ruined scalp.
Then her lips, which had dried to thin scabs, suddenly parted.
I expected another hellish scream to empty out of her, but it was something else—a warped laugh only possible with a throat full of charcoal. Laughing hysterically in an upside down-grimace.
Though no eyes were left in her sockets, I could feel their gaze swallow me up.
Stop, I whimpered internally, please stop looking at me.
Her suffering had ended, but in its place, something different had taken its place, clawing its way out of the burn.
The laughing seized as she struggled back to her feet, standing tall in the lashing flames. Fragments of clothing hung from her grizzled frame, fused to the skin.
The chorus of the men had stopped as they backed away from her, like lion tamers who had suddenly lost their whips.
She seemed to pay them no mind as her neck slowly swiveled around the room, eyeing up each of the hastily smeared sigils.
Her heels scraped against the floor as she chose one of them and gradually shambled toward it.
Upon reaching the crest, her body collapsed forward. A skull-rending crunch resounded from the impact and left her limply against it. Pieces of her torso—followed by everything else—began to fall away from her, dispersing in blackened particles.
The flames shrank and sputtered as more of her body broke down into fine-grained piles around her. Before long, she had crumbled to nothingness, a vague smear of her existence marred into the wall.
As the last of the embers fizzled in their ashes, the room returned to its heavy darkness.
“Beautiful!” Skinny cheered, looking like he’d just wiped away a tear, though it was probably to rub the sweat off his face. Those wide, intense eyes traveled to me, “One down, one to go.”
I looked once more at the crest on the wall, smothered by the left-over shape of a woman.
Then I was on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.
They’d left me in the same spot, peppered with her ashes. Beneath me, the scorched floor burned against my spine.
Goat Beard smiled as he tore the duct tape from my mouth. Why? So, they could hear me scream next?
My limbs had jellied into uselessness. Maybe from the fear, or maybe from whatever godforsaken substance they’d forced into my system.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought about my parents’ faces and the last time I’d seen them. I thought about my first bar gig, and how many times I had messed up the mixes.
An angry shout tried to tear out of my throat but was rasped short by how raw it had become.
I didn’t want to die. Not here, not in this demonic place.
When the chanting started again, I squeezed the tears shut, and prayed for my nerves to burn quickly.
Then the sounds stopped.
Silence stilled the room, save for a few scraping feet.
“What was that?” Bent-Nose spoke. “You hear that?”
“Go check it out,” Skinny ordered as a set of shoes pattered out of the room.
A few anxious mumbles passed between him and Goat Beard until a flurry of shouts rang from the hallway.
Both of them beat past me and ran toward the disturbance.
Something surged through my body—an electricity which kicked my limbs from their paralysis and back to working order.
I pulled my upper half from the ground and into a sitting position. Once my feet were under me, I got myself back to standing. Just being vertical again filled me with absolute joy.
The sounds from outside came as incoherent barks from the hall until they were silenced by a loud crack then two more in its place—gunshots.
I pulled my arms below my body and carefully lifted one leg at a time over my wrists, bringing them back to the front of me.
After that, I brought both over my head and threw them down into my stomach. The ties didn’t break. I tried again, raising them as high as I could. Break, you bastards, and slammed them down even harder.
The locking mechanism snapped, finally freeing my hands.
From behind the thin walls shuffling movements registered from the outside. “My ear!” a voice bellowed sounding very much like Goat Beard’s slurred speech, “Shot—my fuckin’ ear!”
Car doors opened and closed as an engine revved to life and an accelerator was depressed. They sped off, retreating from something.
As I twisted myself toward the exit, a man was now standing there, his gun pointed at me. “Stay away!” I screamed haggardly at him. “Stay the hell away from me!”
“Take it easy, I’m not one of them,” the man said lowering his weapon, a whole new face in the fray.
We stood at an impasse inside the acrid, unlit room. I wanted to believe he was my rescue, but my nerves were shot. The fact that things around me hadn’t stopped moving didn’t help.
His eyes scanned the workshop and settled on the human-shaped scar on the wall. A look of familiarity tensed his features. “Do you know where you are right now? Were you forced to come here?”
“Please,” I breathed, “just let me get out of this place.”
He nodded in agreement and led the way through the paint-flaking hallway.
The fresh night air prickled down my throat and coughed back out of me. I bent over and retched into the ground. The ashes were all over me, on my clothes, in my hair.
The stranger retreated from me, almost like he was expecting something to suddenly happen. When nothing did, he cautiously drew closer. “My name’s Tucker, can you tell me yours?”
“Peter,” I responded, blowing the remaining spittle off my lips. “Are you a cop?”
“I used to be.” He itched the back of his neck, then continued “I need you to tell me everything that happened here Peter, everything that you can remember. Can you do that for me?”
I looked up at him and rubbed the imprints dented into my wrists, “You aren’t going to believe any of it.”
The ex-officer then smiled, “Try me.”
submitted by Atrophied_Silence to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.10.17 22:32 annemoriarty Hidden sex in hospital

Emanuela Orlandi,15-year-old girl, was the daughter of a clerk working at the Prefecture of the Papal Household [that manages the Papal residence in the Vatican] and disappeared in Rome on June 22, 1983. Her disappearance was then linked to the disappearance of another Roman teenager, Mirella Gregori, who disappeared on May 7, 1983 and was never found again. What at first seemed like a common case of two missing girls, soon became one of the darkest cases in Italian and Vatican history, involving the Vatican itself, the Italian State, the Vatican bank , the Magliana Gang [criminal organization], the Banco Ambrosiano [Catholic bank] and the secret services of several countries. The real nature of the events has never been defined.
flyer with photos and info of the girls: https://images.app.goo.gl/ERHHSNA7epWqFgca6
*** Sorry for any mistake, English is not my native language, I hope everything is understandable 🌈

Mirella Gregori was the youngest daughter of the owners of a bar in Volturno Street in Rome. She lived with her parents and was described by everyone as an absolutely normal girl. She attended a technical high school in Rome. On May 7, 1983, Mirella went to school and returned home around 2pm, after spending some time with a friend in a bar near her home. That friend said they had talked about normal everyday things and could not provide any other information. Back home, Mirella was called on the intercom by someone called "Sandro", who was pretending to be her friend, and to whose requests to go out Mirella exclaimed: "If you don't tell me who you are, I won't come out!". Then she said they could meet at 3pm. Around 3 pm the girl went out, telling her mother that she had an appointment at Porta Pia with an old classmate, who, after being heard by the investigators, declared that he was busy elsewhere that afternoon and had a alibi. Since then, the family has not heard from the girl. The mother reported that her daughter, shortly before she disappeared, bragged to her that she was able to find the money to buy an apartment that her parents could not afford; however, that idea at the time was dismissed as a joke.
Emanuela Orlandi (born in Rome on January 14, 1968) lived in the Vatican city with her parents, brother and sisters: she was the fourth child of five. In June 1983 she had just finished the second year of high school at the Vittorio Emanuele II National Boarding School. She had considerable musical talent and had attended for years a music school in Piazza Sant'Apollinare in Rome, not far from Palazzo Madama [office of the Senate of the Republic]. There she attended piano, flute, choral singing and solfeggio courses.
The day of her disappearance, Emanuela went to music class around 4 pm, but left at 6.45 pm, ten minutes earlier than usual. Then she phoned her older sister Federica from a telephone booth, saying that she would be late because the bus didn't pass and that a man had stopped her on the street offering her a job during a fashion show for the sum of 370,000 lire [about 500 euros today]. It was a job of a few hours as a promoter of cosmetic products of a well-known brand [Avon] during a fashion show in the Sorelle Fontana atelier, in a few days; however, her sister advised her not to heed such a proposal and suggested that she return home as soon as possible to discuss it with their mother. This was the last contact Emanuela had with her family. Later, it was found that the cosmetics company in question - which moreover employed only female staff - had nothing to do with the job offer allegedly made to the young woman and it also turned out that, in the same period, other adolescents of the same age of Emanuela had been lured by a man under the false pretext of advertising cosmetic products at events like fashion shows.
After the phone call, Emanuela together with two classmates (Maria Grazia and Raffaella), reached the bus stop in Corso Rinascimento. According to the girls, Emanuela alluded to a very attractive job offer she received and, warned by them, said that she would first ask permission from her parents and that she would still be careful to avoid nasty surprises. Around 7:30 pm, first Maria Grazia and then Raffaella got on two different buses headed home, while, according to Raffaella, Emanuela didn't get on the bus, because it was too crowded, and said she would wait for the next one. From this moment, all traces of the girl are lost. According to another later version, after the phone call Emanuela confided to Raffaella that she would stay there and wait for the man who had made her the offer, to inform him that she would first ask permission from her parents to participate. Raffaella then reported that she had seen Emanuela (from the bus window) talking to a curly-haired woman, who was never identified, although some suggested that it was most likely some other student of the music school.
When Emanuela didn't come home, her father Ercole and her brother began searching at the music school and in the vicinity of it, they contacted the principal of the school who provided the telephone numbers of some of Emanuela's classmates and advised to wait before alerting the police; nevertheless Ercole Orlandi went immediately to the "Trevi" Commissariat to report her disappearance, but the staff invited him to wait before filing a complaint, suggesting that the girl had stopped for dinner with friends and forgot to call home. The complaint was formalized the following morning (June 23) by her sister Natalina. The next day (24 June) the Roman newspapers "Il Tempo" and "Il Messaggero" published the news of the disappearance and a photograph of the girl, with the plea for help from the family and their telephone numbers.
On June 25, after a series of unreliable phone calls, a interesting phone call arrived from a young man. His name was "Pierluigi", 16 years old. He said that together with his girlfriend he had met two girls in Campo dei Fiori [Roman square]; one of them was selling cosmetics, had a flute with her and said her name was Barbara. "Pierluigi" also reported that "Barbara", at the invitation to play the flute, refused because to do so she had had to wear glasses, which she did not like and had added that she would have preferred a Ray-Ban model like the one that the alleged girlfriend of "Pierluigi" wore.
Three hours later "Pierluigi" called back, adding that "Barbara's" glasses were "teardrop glasses, to correct astigmatism" but refused to meet with Emanuela's family or letting his girlfriend talk to them, claiming that she was distracted and unreliable. These calls appeared reliable to the family, (Emanuela was astigmatic, she was ashamed tof wearing glasses and played the flute). On June 26, "Pierluigi", during another phone-call answered by Emanuele's uncle, added some information about himself: he said that day he was with his parents at a restaurant by the sea. He also communicated that "Barbara" said that she was going to play the flute at her sister's wedding scheduled for September, but refused any further collaboration to track down Emanuela and meet her uncle in person; indeed, when Emanuela's uncle asked him to meet in the Vatican city (at Emanuela's parents' house)"Pierluigi" was surprised and asked the uncle if he was a preist. The investigators found out that among Emanuela's friends there was indeed a boy named Pierluigi, who, however, was on vacation elsewhere at the time of her disappearance.
On June 28 it was the turn of "Mario", who claimed to be the owner of a bar in Rome, near Piazza dell'Orologio [very close to Ponte Vittorio, along the route that Emanuela usually took to go to the music school]. "Mario", who had a strong Roman accent, said he was 35 years old. He claimed to have seen a man and two girls selling cosmetics, one of whom claimed to be from Venice and was called "Barbarella". During the phone call from "Mario" a small detail was significant: when asked about the height of the girl, he hesitated and then said "She's quite tall", but Emanuela was barely 5,2 feet tall. In the background, a second voice was heard, saying "No, more!".
In another phone call, "Mario" explained that "Barbara" had confided to him that she had voluntarily left the house because she was tired of the domestic routine, but that she intended to return at the end of summer, for her sister's wedding. The family, considering this hypothesis impossible, lost faith in the phone calls from "Mario" and "Pierluigi". Years later, it was suggested that "Mario" was a man close to the Magliana Gang [criminal organization], but this hypothesis was never proved.
In the days following Emanuela's disappearance her brother and some friends discovered that a young woman, described as very similar to Emanuela, had been noticed talking to a man (both from a police officer and a traffic policeman on duty in front of the Senate). The man was about 5,7 ft tall, between thirty-five and forty, slender, elegantly dressed, with a long face, balding, he carried a briefcase or bag and drove a green BMW Touring. The policeman claimed there was a casing, perhaps a haversack, in the man's hands.
A collaborator of SISDE [Italian secret services] and friend of Orlandi's cousin, Giulio Gangi, soon managed to track down the "tundra green" BMW; he discovered that it had been repaired (despite being undocumented) by a mechanic from the Vescovio district. A blonde woman had brought the car to this mechanic; the damage involved the breakage of the glass of the right front window, but this breakage did not seem to have been caused by a direct action from the outside towards the inside, it was from the inside towards the outside. Gangi quickly tracked down the woman in question, but she refused to cooperate and on the way back to his office Gangi discovered that his superiors had been informed of what he was doing, despite using fake documents and a fake license plate.
Gangi had also checked the Fontana sisters' atelier, where he was informed that a lot of girls had showed up, deluded to be able to participate as presenters of cosmetics. That possibility was definitely excluded by the director. A year after Emanuela's disappearance, a Roman teenager was lured by a young fake promoter of cosmetics; the man was stopped but turned out to be unrelated to the Orlandi case.
Wikipedia page about the attempted assassination of the Pope (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attempted_assassination_of_Pope_John_Paul_II
Wikipedia page about the Gray Wolves (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grey_Wolves_(organization)
Wikipedia page of Mehmet Ali Ağca (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mehmet_Ali_A%C4%9Fca
On July 3, 1983, the Pope John Paul II addressed a plea to those responsible for the disappearance of Emanuela Orlandi, formalizing for the first time the hypothesis of the kidnapping. On July 5, a phone call came to the Vatican press office. At the other end of the phone a man, who spoke with a strong Anglo-Saxon accent (and for this reason was immediately renamed by the press "the Amerikano"), claimed to be holding Emanuela Orlandi hostage, arguing that many other elements had already been provided by others members of his organization, "Pierluigi" and "Mario", and requested the activation of a direct phone line with the Vatican. He asked to release by July 20 Mehmet Ali Ağca [turkish terrorist, member of the terroristic organization Grey Wolves, he shot the Pope in St. Peter's Square a couple of years earlier]. An hour later, the man called Orlandi home, and played a tape of the recorded voice of a girl with Roman accent, who repeated a phrase six times, perhaps extrapolated from a longer phrase: «School: Vittorio Emanuele II National Boarding School, it's my third year of high school».
On July 8, a man with a Middle Eastern accent phoned a friend of Emanuela, saying that Emanuela was their prisoner and that they had 20 days to release Ali Ağca, then asked for a direct phone line with the Cardinal Agostino Casaroli [Secretary of State]. The young friend declared that she and Emanuela had exchanged telephone numbers on the same day of her disappearance, to keep in touch for the preparation of a concert, adding that Emanuela had transcribed her number on a piece of paper that she had placed in her jeans pocket. On July 17, a tape was found in which the request for the release of Ağca and the request for a direct phone line with Cardinal Casaroli was confirmed; the voice of a girl on the tape was begging for help, saying she felt ill; it was found that the voice had been extrapolated from a film and was not Emanuela's. The phone line was installed on July 18. A few days later, in another phone call, "the Amerikano" asked Emanuela's uncle to make public the message contained on the tape.
The phone calls from "the Amerikano" were 16, all from telephone booths. Despite the various requests, and the alleged evidence, the man (never traced) did not open any real leads. No evidence was ever produced that the girl was actually hostage of the Gray Wolves, the organization of which Ağca was a member of. In the press release of November 20, 1984, the Gray Wolves declared that they kept Emanuela and Mirella Gregori as prisoners. The "Turkish lead" of the Gray Wolves, however, has been disavowed by 'former Stasi [East German secret services] officer Günter Bohnsack, who stated that the East German secret services exploited the case of Emanuela Orlandi and wrote fake letters to Rome, to consolidate the thesis that connected Ağca with the Gray Wolves, in order to exonerate Bulgaria from the accusations during the investigation into the attack on Pope John Paul II.
On February 2, 2010 Pietro Orlandi, Emanuela's brother, had an interview with Ali Ağca, in which the terrorist confirmed the hypothesis that the kidnapping was orchestrated by the Vatican (already mentioned in the phone call of July 5). He mentioned the name of Cardinal Giovanni Battista Re (considering him a person informed on the facts) and reassured him that "Emanuela is alive and will soon return home". According to the former Gray Wolf, the girl “now lives in a secluded villa in France or Switzerland. She will come back home ». A year later, the recording of the interview was published on the show "Who has seen it?" [Italian true crime show], where they censored the cardinal's name. There, Pietro Orlandi announced that he had spoken with the cardinal himself, that denied the words of the terrorist.
Wikipedia page of Cardinal Battista Re (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giovanni_Battista_Re
According to some newspapers and publications, the identikit of "the Amerikano" corresponds to Monsignor Paul Marcinkus, who at the time was president of the IOR, the Vatican "bank": SISDE specialists, analyzing the messages and phone calls received by the family, for a total of 34 communications, considered them reliable and linked to those who had carried out the kidnapping. The mysterious person had a thorough knowledge of the Latin language, better than Italian, was probably of Anglo-Saxon culture and had a high cultural level and knowledge of the ecclesiastical world and the Vatican, in addition to the in-depth knowledge of different areas of Rome (where he probably had lived).
Wikipedia page of Monsignor Paul Marcinkus (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Marcinkus
Wikipedia page of the Gang (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banda_della_Magliana
Wikipedia page of De Pedis (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enrico_De_Pedis
Wikipedia page of Cardinal Poletti (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ugo_Poletti
Wikipedia page of Roberto Calvi (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roberto_Calvi
Wikipedia page of Michele Sindona (English): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michele_Sindona
On July 11, 2005, an anonymous phone call arrived at the editorial staff of the program "Who has seen it?" in which it was said that in order to solve the case of Emanuela Orlandi it was necessary to go and see who was buried in the Basilica of Sant'Apollinare. They had to check "the favor that Renatino did to Cardinal Poletti". It was thus discovered that "Renatino", the deceased man buried there, was none other than a boss of the Magliana Gang, Enrico De Pedis. A journalist managed to obtain the photos of the tomb and the original documents relating to the burial of the boss, commissioned by Cardinal Ugo Poletti, then president of the CEI [Bishop Assembly]. On February 20, 2006, a repentant of the Gang, Antonio Mancini, claimed in an interview with a journalist of "Who has seen it?" that he recognized "Mario"'s voice as the voice of a hitman at the service of De Pedis, called Rufetto. However, the investigations conducted by the Public Prosecutor's Office did not confirm Mancini's statement.
A postcard depicting a southern town was then sent to the editorial staff, with the following text: «Leave Renatino alone». The same year Sabrina Minardi, ex-wife of footballer Bruno Giordano, said in an interview that between the spring of 1982 and November 1984 she had a relationship with De Pedis. In 2007 Antonio Mancini released statements relating to the involvement of De Pedis and some Vatican exponents in the disappearence of Emanuela Orlandi, revealing that in prison, at the time of Emanuela's disappearance, "it was said that the girl was ours [of the Gang], one of us had taken her ". Mancini's declarations also seem to be confirmed by Maurizio Abbatino, another repentant of the Gang who, in December 2009, revealed some rumors among the Gang members on the involvement of De Pedis and his men in the kidnapping and murder of Emanuela. In June 2008 the press reported the statements that Minardi had made: Emanuela was killed and her body, locked up in a sack, was thrown into a cement mixer in Torvaianica [Roman district]. On that occasion, according to Minardi, De Pedis also got rid of the body of an 11-year-old boy killed in revenge, Domenico Nicitra, son of a old member of the Gang. Little Nicitra, however, was killed on June 21, 1993, ten years after the time period described by Minardi, and three years after the death of De Pedis himself, which occurred at the beginning of 1990. According to the woman, the abduction of Emanuela would have been materially carried out by De Pedis, at the orders of Monsignor Marcinkus "because they wanted to send a message to someone above them".
In particular, Sabrina Minardi said she arrived by car at the Gianicolo bar, where De Pedis had told her to meet a girl she was supposed to "take to the Vatican gas station". A dark BMW arrived at the meeting, with "Sergio" ( the driver of De Pedis), then a red Renault 5 arrived with a girl called "Teresina" (the housekeeper of Daniela Mobili, a friend of Minardi) and a confused girl on it, recognized by the witness as Emanuela Orlandi. Then, "Sergio" put Emanuela in the BMW that Minardi drove. Left alone in the car with the girl, the woman noticed that she "was crying and laughing together" and "looked like a drug addict." When she arrived at the gas station, she found a man "who looked like a priest" waiting in a Mercedes with a number plate of the Vatican City. They took Emanuela.The girl then spent her imprisonment in Rome, in a house owned by Daniela Mobili (Minardi's friend) in Pignatelli Street, which had "an immense basement that almost reached the San Camillo Hospital" (whose existence, in addition to a small bathroom and an underground lake, was ascertained by the investigators in June 2008). The housekeeper of Daniela Mobili, "Teresina", took care of Emanuela; according to Minardi, Daniela Mobili was close to Danilo Abbruciati, another leading exponent of the Magliana Gang.
Mobili denied knowing Minardi or having a role in the kidnapping, since in those years she was, like her husband, in prison. However, Minardi has referred in the past to the housekeeper "Teresina", who actually worked at the apartment at that time, even though she did not have a driving license. Subsequently, Minardi cited another member of the Gang, who, traced by the police, confessed that the refuge in Pignatelli Street was indeed a hiding place, "but not for the kidnapped, [but] for the wanted. It was the refuge of "Renatino" [De Pedis] », denying the connection between the former boss of the Magliana Gang and the kidnapping of Emanuela Orlandi.
Minardi said she had dinner twice together with De Pedis (at that time already wanted by the police) and Giulio Andreotti [seven time shady Italian Prime Minister] and that it "has nothing to do directly with Emanuela Orlandi, but with Monsignor Marcinkus, yes". Minardi's statements, although they were recognized by investigators as partially inconsistent (due to the woman's drug use in the past), gained more credibility in August 2008, following the discovery of the BMW that Minardi herself said was used for the transport of Emanuela Orlandi and which appeared to have belonged first to Flavio Carboni, an entrepreneur investigated and then acquitted in the trial on the death of Roberto Calvi [Italian banker], and subsequently in one of the Gang members'. The publication of what Minardi said sparked protests from the Vatican, which, through Father Federico Lombardi, spokesman for the Holy Press Office, spoke of "a lack of humanity and respect for the Orlandi family ", and he defined as" false the accusations made against Archbishop Marcinkus, who has been dead for some time and who's unable to defend himself ".
On June 30 of that year the show "Who has seen it?" transmitted the full version of the anonymous phone call of July 2005, left private until that moment. After the revelations on the tombs of De Pedis and Cardinal Poletti, the voice added "And ask the bartender in Montebello Street, that his daughter was also with her ... with the other Emanuela." The bar turned out to belong to the family of S. D. V., a friend of Mirella Gregori. The staff of the program was also threatened by another anonymous phone call from a certain "Blond". On November 21, another interview with Minardi was broadcasted on Rai News 24, where she said that Emanuela Orlandi had spent the first fifteen days of imprisonment in Torvaianica, in the house owned by Minardi's parents.
On March 10, 2010, the existence of a new suspect was announced, it was Sergio Virtù, indicated by Sabrina Minardi as the trusted driver of De Pedis, and who allegedly had a role in the kidnapping of the girl. The man was under investigation for aggravated voluntary homicide and kidnapping. Virtù was arrested on the day of the interrogation for other crimes and transferred to the Regina Coeli prison. He had two previous sentences for fraud crimes. Virtú denied any wrongdoing on the matter, in particular that he had known or had friendly relations with De Pedis. There were also some statements by another woman, defined by the investigators as a former cohabitant, who also allegedly had a role in the kidnapping and had received compensation for this.
In July 2010 the Vicariate of Rome gave the go-ahead for the inspection of the tomb of De Pedis in the Basilica of Sant'Apollinare and the DNA sampling was compared with the DNA of De Pedis's brother, relatives of Emanuela and Antonietta Gregori, Mirella's sister.
In July 2011, the district prosecutor of Rome arrested some members of the De Tomasi family, accused of crimes including usury and money laundering; according to the investigators, Giuseppe De Tomasi, known as "Sergione", affiliated with the Magliana Gang, was the same person who phoned the Orlandi family in 1983, identifying himself with the name "Mario", while his son, Carlo Alberto De Tomasi, was the author of the phone call to the show "Who has seen it?" in 2005. In 1984 De Pedis was arrested in an apartment in Vittorini Street, propriety of Giuseppe De Tommasi. Sergione, as told by the repentant Abbatino, was pardoned by De Pedis and organized his wedding reception in June 1988. He also attended De Pedis funeral. De Tommasi defended himself by saying that he could not have made that call in 1983 because he was in prison. On July 24 Antonio Mancini, in an interview with " La Stampa", stated that Orlandi was actually kidnapped by the Gang to obtain in return the money invested in the IOR [Vatican Bank] through the Banco Ambrosiano [Catholic bank] (as also hypothesized by judge Rosario Priore). Mancini added that he believed they wanted to ask for 20 billion and that it was De Pedis who put an end to the phone calls, despite the fact that the money had not all been returned, but obtaining in exchange, among other things, the possibility of being buried in the Basilica of Sant'Apollinare, as it actually happened later.
On May 14, 2012, the tomb of De Pedis was finally opened but inside there was just the body of the deceased who, as wished by the family, was cremated. It was then excavated more thoroughly, but only small remains of bones (dating back to the Napoleonic period) were found; no traces of Emanuela and Mirella's DNA was found. Four days later, on 18 May, Monsignor Pietro Vergari was investigated for complicity in kidnapping. In October 2015 the GIP [preliminary judge], at the request of the Public Prosecutor's Office and due to lack of consistent evidence, closed the investigation into the disappearances of Emanuela Orlandi and Mirella Gregori, started in 2006 due to the statements of Sabrina Minardi and which found six people under investigation for murder and kidnapping. In 2018 Abbatino revealed that he learned from Claudio Sicilia [member of the Magliana Band] that De Pedis was behind the kidnapping.
“It was for the money he gave to the Vatican. Money ended up in the IOR pockets and was never returned. And there were not only the billions of De Pedis but also the money of the mafia. The murder of Michele Sindona [italian banker and criminal] and that of Roberto Calvi [italian banker] are linked to the Orlandi kidnapping. If the first one is not resolved, the truth about Calvi's alleged suicide and the girl's disappearance will never be solved. In my opinion it was not an order [from the mafia] but a thing done in agreement. I know of Renatino's relations [De Pedis] with Monsignor Casaroli. I can confirm the Gang's relationship with the Vatican. But I have never met Don Vergari. He may also have done charity but he was certainly not Catholic, Renato was a Buddhist. Relations between the Vatican and the Magliana Gang date back to those years [at least to 1976]. And they are due to Franco's [Magliana Gang member] friendships. There was a homosexual boy, his name was Nando. It was him who brought Franco to Casaroli. Casaroli was known. Franco knew him. And I know that this friendship was "inherited" from Renatino."
According to Father Gabriele Amorth [excommunicated priest, exorcist, and all around not a reliable person], Emanuela Orlandi was drugged and then killed in an orgy of pedophiles held in the Vatican. This is the hypothesis that, in an interview released in May 2012 to" La Stampa", was advanced by the man defined by the newspaper as the "world leader of exorcists"; the theory is also published in his book "The Last Exorcist". In the interview, the exorcist stated the following: «As also stated by Monsignor Simeone Duca, Vatican archivist, parties were organized in which a gendarme was also involved as a" recruiter of girls ". I believe that Emanuela ended up as a victim [...] I never believed in the international lead, I have reason to believe that it was a case of sexual exploitation resulting in murder shortly after the disappearance and concealment of the body. The crime also involved diplomatic personnel from a foreign embassy ”. The same hypothesis, with the addition of the involvement of Monsignor Paul Marcinkus, was made by the collaborator of justice Vincenzo Calcara, former mafia affiliate, who reported to the show "Who has seen it ?", in 2014, an alleged statment of a mafia boss, affirming that Orlandi died during a drug and sex party and that she's buried in the Vatican with other alleged young victims.
An anonymous source, in 2005, stated that Emanuela died, perhaps accidentally, following a "convivial meeting" held in a house near the terminal of the bus that the girl took to return home. The house was propriety of a high prelate or a person close to the Vatican, and her body was probably hidden nearby. No proof of this was found.
In June 2011, during a live debate on TV about Pietro Orlandi's book "My sister Emanuela", a man who declared himself a former SISMI [Italian military secret services] agent stated that "Emanuela is alive, she is in an asylum in England and is always sedated" . He added that the cause of the kidnapping was the knowledge by Ercole Orlandi, Emanuela's father, of "dirty" money laundering activities, linking the kidnapping to the death of Calvi [italian banker].
In September 2017, the journalist Emiliano Fittipaldi, author of two other books concerning the Vatican, published "The impostors. Inquiry into power". In May he came into possession of a report dated March 28, 1998 sent by the then leader of the APSA [who administers the patrimony of the Holy See] Cardinal Lorenzo Antonetti (who died three years earlier) to the archbishops Giovanni Battista Re [substitute for the General Affairs of the Secretariat of State] and Jean-Louis Tauran [in charge of Relations with States] titled "Summary report of the expenses incurred by the Vatican City state for the activities relating to the citizen Emanuela Orlandi" and in the first paragraph reads: "The Administrative Prefecture of the Patrimony of the Apostolic See has received a mandate to draw up a summary document of the economic services necessary to support the activities carried out following the kidnapping and the subsequent events of the citizen Emanuela Orlandi. "
The document, which would prove that the girl was alive, was allegedly stolen in the night between 29 and 30 March 2014, from the safe in an armored cabinet of the Prefecture of Economic Affairs, which was under the responsibility of the secretary Monsignor Lucio Ángel Vallejo Balda. Balda was arrested on November 2, 2015, as part of the so-called Vatileaks 2, for providing confidential information for the publication of the book "Via Crucis" by Gianluigi Nuzzi (which ended up under investigation together with Fittipaldi who had written "Avarizia") and was then pardoned by the Pope. Francesca Chaoqui, a member of COSEA [Pontifical referent for the organization of the economic-administrative structure] under Balda's control until his arrest, revealed that in the safe, in addition to the dossier on Orlandi, there were also dossiers on Michele Sindona [criminal and banker] and Umberto Ortolani [shady banker] (as also confirmed by Monsignor Alfredo Abbondi, head of the Prefecture office), on the IOR and on the political expenses of Pope John Paul II during the Cold War and she also said that the theft was faked by Balda himself.
The report in Fittipaldi's possession was typewritten with a font dating back twenty years, it did not contain official stamps and therefore could also be a fake. It listed the expenses between January 1983 (six months before the disappearance) and July 1997 for a total sum of 483 million lire [around 250000 euros] used to investigate at the Atelier Fontana (from which the girl made the last call home before her disappearance), then they investigated the secretary of State Agostino Casaroli, the president of the CEI Cardinal Ugo Poletti, the boarding and lodging at the Catholic student hostel in London, Emanuela's travel and medical expenses, the trips to London by senior representatives of the Vatican [...].
In June 2017, the Orlandi family had already filed an application to be able to view "a dossier kept in the Vatican" (Pietro Orlandi had learned of its existence in February / March according to their lawyer). Monsignor Angelo Becciu (substitute for General Affairs of the secretariat) denied its existence, however, Cardinal Re assured that "the secretariat of state (of which he was substitute in 1997) had nothing to hide" and on the phone with Fittipaldi stopped the conversation.
In October 2018, the Vatican permitted the DNA analysis on some bones found during restoration work at the Vatican Nunciature in Rome. The investigations, entrusted by the Holy See to Italy, and in particular to the Rome prosecutor and the scientific police, were aimed at comparing those bones with Emanuela Orlandi's DNA. However, the bones found in the Nunciature did not belong to Emanuela Orlandi, nor to Mirella Gregori. From the analysis of the Scientific police the bones of the Nunciature undoubtedly dated back to a period prior to 1964. And above all they were attributable to the skeleton of a man. On 11 July 2019, a further inspection was carried out in two graves in the Teutonic cemetery, those of Princess Sofia of Hohenlohe-Waldenburg-Bartenstein and Princess Carlotta Federica of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, following specific leads. But no human remains were found inside.
documentary (Italian): https://youtu.be/ObQCgKGivqc
Wikipedia pages (English):
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disappearance_of_Mirella_Gregori
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disappearance_of_Emanuela_Orlandi
others::
https://www.insider.com/everything-we-know-about-the-1983-disappearance-of-emanuela-orlandi-2018-11
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2019/jul/20/emanuela-orlandi-brother-anguish-vatican-missing-teenager-investigation
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-49055783
submitted by annemoriarty to UnresolvedMysteries [link] [comments]


2020.10.14 07:23 Silexfire TW: My Mom Passed Away in February Suddenly from Rapid Metastatic Cancer and I Just Finished Designing the Engraving Guides for Her Headstone...

I was going to post this a few weeks ago when I HAD submitted the headstone design but thought it was too much emotional dribble. Today has been nothing but that and I’m still feel in’ it so y’know... fuck it:
“TW / Long Post Alert | This is an absolute novel but I just CAN’T keep this inside anymore and I NEED to vent! TL;DR at the bottom. I’ve never recounted the full story before so this is mostly me thinking as I write for future reference...
Guys, I’m cycling through SO many emotions right now...
Some Emotionally Upheaving Context:
My mom had been diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer back in 2012. (I was 16 then and in a specialist IOP program for trauma recovery from years of repeated sexual assault from a ‘friend’ and my mom was my absolute rock during this time. She came to EVERY meeting and therapy session with me, even when it meant squeezing doc appointments in between my sessions.) She underwent sx to remove a small tumor and surrounding lymph nodes, then, intense rounds of chemo, followed by radiation, and continued on estrogen suppressants until mid 2019, until her scans showed full remission. She discontinued all medications in March last year, telling me that her doctor said she “no longer needed them” and our family was ecstatic. About a month later, my dad’s hidden life (and at least two other families) surfaced. As did the torment he’d put my mom through the entire time they were married. My grandpa was an economist and had played well with his investments, in hopes of leaving a trust fund for my family after he’d passed. My dad’s ONLY purpose in marriage was to get at these funds. After my dad’s pornography addiction involving children was discovered, my mom finally fought for herself and told him she wanted him to move out. He agreed but harassed and degraded her more than ever, gaslighting and manipulating her, demanding money she’d earned, alone, “for work”. Though it was clear he was spending it on alcohol, prostitutes, and gifts for his “other ladies”, she could never bring herself to divorce him, for religious reasons. Despite pleas from myself and even her some of her ecclesiastical leaders, she wanted to stay married. She said he scared the shit out of her and was an emotionless man, unless money or his authority were concerned. Still, she never signed papers because she could not un-love him, she said, and did not want the burden or ugliness of hatred to affect herself or her children. I kid you not, she said this to several people. Anyway, I could never find that depth of pure forgiveness in my own self. So, upon reading the journal she kept for us when she realized her health was failing, I learned something I am STILL really struggling to NOT do something stupid about: Her doctor had never advised her to stop taking her medication. My dad had. He’d told her after a therapy session that he would never touch any kind of porn again if she could have sex with him X times per day. That he felt ashamed for even saying it but had prayed about it and felt that it was the ONLY way they could save their marriage and keep us kids from being in a broken home. He’d never go fuck someone else again. It was like the therapist had said: it was an addiction that needed treatment. Sometimes treatment is extreme. He’d read online that her cancer meds and estrogen suppressants lower libido and she’d have to stop taking them but it would save their family from eternal separation. She loved me and my siblings more than life, so she agreed. This entry was six months prior to her new prognosis.
THE RANT: SKIP HERE
My mom passed away in February of this year. Her sudden decline in health was a shock to my entire family and we had all barely stopped reeling from her breast cancer reappearing after years of remission when she told us she had stage 4 (August last year). She was immediately put on an aggressive chemo/rad combo treatment, strict medication regimen, and required frequent care. This was when my father completely disappeared from the face of the Earth. He quit his job and completely left, leaving my mom with a small healthcare package one client of hers had offered to pay for after hearing about her diagnosis. She had an in-home nurse and the rest of the medical monitoring was left to my younger brother, 21 and just married a few months prior, working. I was in states away, my husband active duty army. I felt so stuck and like nothing I could do would really help. I planned to leave to stay with her and my brother while my husband finished his contract. My boss had recently lost a dear friend to cancer and was more than empathetic; he even offered to keep sending my regular paychecks. As I planned to fly over and was figuring out details with my husband, I got a call on my way home from work one night. My brother and his wife had gone to check on my mom before bed and found her completely unresponsive in her room. They called the EMTs who transported her to an ICU a few cities away. By the time my brother got there, she was conscious but incoherent and in extreme pain. The next morning, a CT found the six tumors in her brain and 3 on her spinal cord. I took my boss’s offer and flew out that day. The next 2 months were a blur. I barely slept, ate, or thought about anything other than my mom and the various legal responsibilities left to my siblings and (mainly) I in the complete absence of our Dad. I watched her fight with the courage and wisdom of someone I could only hope to resemble, and all while being the perfect example of a mother. Right up until those tumors paralyzed her, she was asking how me, my brother and sister were doing. She was worried about us and felt that she was leaving too soon. She didn’t want to leave and didn’t feel ready. But she was in so much pain. I’ve had my fair share of physical agony but she went through things that will always haunt me. And it absolutely broke my heart when we had the conversation: “I’m so sorry for screaming, I’m just not good with pain.” “Mom, I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I don’t think I could handle it at all.” “Oh... honey, you’ve already been through so much worse! I wish you’d never had to feel that much pain so young. I wish I could have saved you from all of that.” And how could you respond to that? I just held her and sobbed. From the start of the whole ordeal, my brain kept telling me, “Save her! There’s got to be something! You have to save her!” And it killed me to hear her say that. We both cried and laughed and were silent together for almost a month in that hospital room. I was too afraid to leave the hospital because I didn’t want her to die by herself. I’m not religious but still recognize the importance of spirituality and the whole experience was rawly spiritual for me. By the time she was gone, I knew I’d lost a huge part of me with her. I grappled desperately with the injustice and pain she’d endured after a lifetime of loyalty and benevolence. I had to keep fighting hard afterwards, to be strong for my family, and to not vow vengeance against my Dad, who went vacationing in Phoenix and tried to sue my family for her trust fund instead of coming to her funeral. I just focused on numbing the feeling that the last, truly good part of this world had just left.
CONCLUSION
As the flashbacks and PTSD symptoms hit me like a freight train upon returning home, the only thing that kept me going was the powerful sense of honor I’d felt in carrying out my mom’s final wishes. Her funeral was beautiful and as perfect as I could make it. I did everything in my power to celebrate her for the warrior she was- from flower arrangements to carrying the casket- and to help those who knew her recognize her impact as I had. I think she’d be both proud and incredibly touched by that. But I still feel so cheated for her.
When I sent the engraving outlines to be finalized today, I felt a bigger hole than ever. I felt such purpose and pride in honoring my mom’s last wishes and such joy in others’ recognition of her. I stepped up when no one else did and followed her example of unwavering love despite hardship. Right now though, it feels like it was my last lifeline to her. It’s been just short of a year from her passing and yet that drive to “save” her still lingers. Now, I’m facing the true finality of the situation: she is gone and I cannot bring her back no matter how deeply personal her tributes are. Sending that file really solidified for me the reality of everything that happened, and that time has passed since it did. I worked really hard to make sure her engraving was very special to my family, and mostly to her. But as intricate as it was, there’s a part of me that dragged the process out because I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to believe any time had passed at all since her death because, for me, the world stopped when she left it.
So this file has been sitting, finished, on my hard drive for months until today. Today, I finally accepted that it’s going to hurt like hell but I need to take a step forward. I cried for way too long after the memorial home responded to me saying they were starting work on it. I feel simultaneously guilty for putting it off at all, angry at the injustice of her situation, and purposeless as I have no role models to make proud. I am a completely independent adult now, and I never realized that notion frightened me until now. ***I know how PTSD and grief can do a number on one, and am seeking EMDR and therapy services currently just to clarify. I am safe. As overwhelming as these feeling are, I know I will overcome them and move on. I will be holding on to her legacy for the rest of my life. And if I live to be even half the example she was to me, then she’s not completely gone.
TL;DR: I’m crushed by my mother’s sudden death and my father’s potential role in it and am having a right shit time processing it. Though horrifying, the necessity for me to step into the decision making role during her decline gave me a focus in the fray. Now that I’ve finished the last, albeit meaningful, step in the technical bits surrounding a parent’s death, I feel lost and scared because I know I have to work on my own emotional healing now and that sucks even though I’m an independent adult.
This really dragged on so congrats if you made it even halfway. I do hope that anyone who got thru this text wall can at least identify with some of it and feel less alone. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from years of therapy, it’s that I’m not alone and neither are you, even if feels like It right now. And if there’s one thing that makes me feel better, it’s knowing I’ve helped someone else.”
submitted by Silexfire to mentalhealth [link] [comments]


2020.10.12 15:11 Dgnslyr Hidden sex in hospital

It’s hard to put into words my feelings on the situation. Anger, sadness, disappointment, pity; none of these seem to cover it. I am not the worse DM in the world, but the situation is so....I don’t know.
I have been DMing my group for the better part of two years. We started with MoP but then branched off into a Homebrew taking place mostly in Neverwinter. My BBEGB is a dimension hopping spellslinger that is trying to permanently open portals to the gods realms on all of the realms so that they can duke it out and destroy existence. His story started in Neverwinter which also is home to the cult of Asmodeus. I tied the cults existence in Neverwinter to the BB and to one of my other characters backstories.
I have been friends with one of my players for the better part of 8 years. We have had many a drunken nights out on the town and have been there for each other during difficult times. He joined my game as a Dragonborn fighter; a mercenary type that he plays pretty much as Vegeta; super prideful and boastful when he shouldn’t be. His backstory is a little convoluted as it kind of kept changing because he couldn’t settle on it; he hails from an island protected by a hurricane and watched over by a Blue Dragon.
Problem 1 arose when he didn’t want to do a “zero” session with his character. All of my players had a zero session with just me, where we actually played their horrendous backstory that players normally just write down. This gives me a chance to feel them as a player and gives them an emotional connection to their home and the characters that inhabit it. It also gives me fuel for later encounters so I can tie it in if needed (names, locations, dates, ext.) Without his zero session, I had little to run off of other than his brother was chosen to do the job he wanted to have but his brother didn’t even want it. So the player left his island when he wasn’t supposed to so that he can prove he is as good as his brother.
Problem 2 peeked its head out when my playstyle came into question. Gold is equivalent to a hundred dollars. Not every peasant or guard offering jobs will have a lot of coin to split between four people, especially as beginning adventurers that no one had heard of. Also, magical items are a rarity in the world. Not every cave or dungeon is going to have a +1 item of something or another, even uncommon items are a bit rare. I do this because I want them to really cherish magical items when they get them, an accomplishment from them delving and exploring the world instead of something a common noble can buy if they save up enough.
He really didn’t like that. He didn’t like that he didn’t have hundreds of gold saved up by level 5-6 and he wasn’t fond of how there were few magical items given out. His problem occurred when, after the first few levels of being the primary DPS because my other players are magic users; he went up against creatures that were immune or resistant to normal damage and he was suddenly taking a backseat so the other players could shine. I explained how I run my world to him (which is something I do during session zero) and he complained how he didn’t know that and would have planned his character accordingly.
I had two private one on ones with him to discuss why he wasn’t being an active player. Once they reached enough renown as adventurers, they started seeing more gold and more magical items due to going on harder adventures. I thought that would fix it.
Then came his need for items that didn’t exist. First was the armorers handbook from DMs guild, he brought it to my place and kind of left it there assuming I would implement it without asking. I was still new at the time and was still bogging down games with other rule lookups and other nonsense when it came to shopping; I didn’t want something that wasn’t WoTC approved to bog me down even more (keep in mind this was still during the time where they weren’t seeing much coin from their adventures and the battles either ended up with the heroes barely sweating or barely breathing, balance was an issue in the beginning). Then he tried to order custom items; a shield that he could attach to his arm to give him a +2 and use of both of his arms, a Gladiator style full arm pauldrons that he wanted to basically function as half plate but without any of the downsides of heavy armor, armor he saw in an anime that was basically half quarter plate pauldrins with a shield on the forearm but he thought would give him full range of dexterity (the common way you see it is that it gives you a bonus to ac if you don’t attack that round, except he wanted the ac even if he attacked).
Once I felt comfortable enough to work on basic custom orders and implementing RAW work times (5gold per day depending on the item) he then got mad about wait times. This peaked when he tried to order a double decker style carriage that was armored and had water towers and trap doors with hidden compartments. For the life of me I needed time to figure out how much this sudden and random thing would cost and I promised him that it would not be cheap especially since they would need several draft horses to pull it, and probably take a few months to make. He got mad that he wouldn’t immediately have the thing during their three week downtime and cancelled it in a text before the game started. He pointed out that I would frequently forget orders they placed or items given to them. I would quickly say “thanks for the reminder, I do a lot between sessions” and rework it into the game. Last session a player brought up a book I gave her as a quest reward; it was a reward she was supposed to utilize 6 months ago when I gave it to her. I forgot, he got snarky because I forgot, but with a quick reminder of what it was I was able to remember and move the game along.
Pacing in my game is not the fastest. I design encounters that should take normally just a few sessions; however I let my characters role-play and do things for themselves because I was accused of railroading during one of my one on ones. For example, I designed a wizards tower encounter where they fought a “school of magic” construct and its minions on each floor. There was also a treasure puzzle on each floor to give them magic items if they could figure it out. It took the better part of 4 to five weekly sessions to get through it. Not bad in reality, but in game time it had been half a day and he had orders for leather armor he wanted so badly. The tower was supposed to kick off a three day festival full of games and competitions that rewarded the victor with the use of a Wish spell. It should have only taken four sessions as there was an adventure in it they didn’t know about. One of my players made poor decision after poor decision that I was not subtly hinting at that resulted in her getting captured by slavers. I had to create a whole new encounter that took a few more sessions but I had tie into her backstory to give it purpose. The whole event took 7-8 sessions because I let my other three characters role-play if they wanted. They won the wish spell which he initially balked at because they used it to bring back a group of kids from the dead that they were responsible for and challenged the Lord of Neverwinter (I saw it as him challenging the DM) as to why he wouldn’t use it to do the same thing in the first place. He made a note during a one on one that they had been in Neverwinter too long, so I let them choose wha they wanted to do; I had given them enough plot hooks at that point. They left Neverwinter to return to Phandelin to claim a reward that was waiting for them. When I made a passing note that they were passing the first clean ocean they had seen in months, two of my players wanted a “beach episode” to relax after what they went through. He was not at all happy with that decision because he had just gotten his leather armor and the session endied with them about to assault a necromancer and his army of undead to gain back an item a player promised another player that they would return to her (Which he, again, asked “why are we doing this?”) I was okay with a fun session because, I had plot hooks in place but didn’t know which direction they would go, the stall gave me a week to plan the next encounter accordingly.
During those last few sessions, he and “his character” lost interest in everything that the group was doing. While everyone was having fun role-playing their encounters that were trying more and more to the overall plot, his “mercenary” character “didn’t give a fuck” as he not so eloquently put it. They expressed that they were getting gold and fame, what a mercenary would want; but he wasn’t having it.
It got to the point where he would have headphones in listening to music (sometimes singing to it) while looking over different rule books and supplements of monsters and other rules. My other players (one of which is my GF who is just as good of friends) were starting to get mad at him but kept being friendly. As a normal DnD trope, we would partake of alcohol to loosen things up and have better laughs, not to get drunk but mildly buzzed. He started drinking a bit heavier towards the end, almost as soon as he arrived.
After the last few sessions of him leaving very curtly when the session wrapped, once walking around our block to “clear his head” and the last time just so suddenly and with a simple “later.” I asked what was up.
The texts I got from him were just heartbreaking for me. In previous texts when we had a problem with another player he told me that I was a great DM, that he was having fun, and it was about hanging with friends. Now he said that he has zero motivation to come to the sessions, that his time was precious and he feels that he isn’t accomplishing anything coming. The rewards they were receiving as 8th level characters were laughable even though everyone enjoys their magical weapons and shields, hat of disguise self, and literal bags full of mundane magical rewards, I even gave him a weapon gem that granted him an area of effect spell for an attack, a fighter ability that doesn’t exist, and gloves that enchant weapons he uses so that they gain the “magical ability” just without the +1 so he wouldn’t feel useless in a fight. He told me he drank so much just to have a “stable attitude” for the sessions. The drinking thing finally broke me and I told him he should rethink coming if that is his attitude, that I asked all three other players for advice and non of it worked. He told me that I asked everyone but him; even though I had the one on ones with him.
He talked to one of the other players who is also a DM that when he “runs sessions” (I have never seen or heard of him being a DM) that he takes everyone’s story into account and makes each quest so that they have zero conflict with the player. All four players had different feelings and personal traits that 100% clashed with each other; and he never told me his characters backstory. Three of my players stayed up late one night to chat about dnd while I went to sleep for work, and he told them that his character was in relations with a lady that called out his brother name during sex once (edgelord much?) but it was the first I had ever heard about it. Everytime I tried to work his backstory in, I was met with arguments of “that’s not how it would happen.” Once they were under an enchantment that made them fight a construct made from their worst fear (yet again a way to tie backstory), one player fought slavers that raided and kidnapped her village, one player fought a Kyuss cultist that killed her mother (5th time hearing it, second time seeing it, first time fighting it so lots of emotion). But he, like a certain Saiyan Prince he based his “pride” off of, was afraid of nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. One player that he had relations with in the game (my GF) brought up that he wasn’t afraid of loosing her? Solid nope.
When that DM told him that his expectations are unrealistic and that player and character growth happen outside of their backstory or interests, that it is a big world out there and the likelihood that every quest could be catered to them is incredibly unlikely; the player stopped responding to him. I told him that I hope this decision doesn’t affect our friendship and he is welcome for normal game night any time; no response. My GF went to the hospital where I spent most of my waking hours if I wasn’t asleep or at work; he messaged her several times and me a total of zero. It’s been two weeks since I have heard from him.
Due to my time in the military, I have anxiety issues about loosing friendships. I am playing it off well enough for my group, but I am severely upset about how this all happened. One of my players brought up a reason why he was acting out but its not a reason I ever want to be true. I am sorry if this is long, convoluted, and boring; I just needed to vent before my session restarts tonight.
submitted by Dgnslyr to DnD [link] [comments]


2020.10.10 20:20 harmony4850 My Story (Trigger Warning: childhood physical and emotional abuse, corporal punishment, sexualization of trauma, self-injury)

So I have not been diagnosed with CPTSD (although I sometimes wonder if I could have it, or wonder if I am at least traumatized), but I have been diagnosed with several anxiety disorders throughout my life. I had panic disorder throughout high school, as well social anxiety and generalized anxiety disorder for several years (I am a 22 year old female btw). But I wanted to post this here, because although I have talked in therapy about my childhood and issues that have resulted from my childhood experiences, I was recently triggered during a class in the graduate counseling program I'm in, and I feel that maybe people here would understand and relate and could maybe provide any insight to what I have experienced and currently experience. Before I share my story, I want to note that have several trigger words. Certain words give me feelings of extreme discomfort, anxiety, embarrassment, and shame. Despite my discomfort, I will use these words anyway so that I can effectively share my story. These words revolve around corporal punishment, such as spanking, belt, beating, whipping, and anything else related. Are these trigger words for anyone else?
My childhood life at home up until about 8-10 years old is very foggy, it just feels completely blank when I try to think about what life was like at home and about my parents. The only way I could think to describe my parents back then would be that my dad was the quieter parent (but always really annoying, he purposely annoys my siblings and I for fun to this day), and my mom was the angry parent. Anything else is a blank. But fast forward to when I hit puberty. I began at a young age, even before I hit puberty (so around 8-10 years old), to have an interest in spanking and anything related. I would search through books I had, such as Little House on the Prairie, and dictionaries and look for spanking and related words. While I had an interest in it, I also had shame about it as well, and a need to keep this interest of mine hidden. Once I was around 12-13 years old, I would frequently fantasize about being spanked by one of my female teachers, who I felt intimidated by. Often in these fantasies, a man would come in to save me from the spanking and/or comfort me afterwards. When I got my first iPod touch, the entire internet was in my hands, and I would look up spanking videos on Youtube and spanking stories on the internet, and when I learned, I began to masturbate to these too. This interest of mine was an addiction. I daydreamed in school almost every day about being spanked (and then saved from it afterwards). The older I got though, the more this behavior decreased.
I had a very difficult time living with my parents. I finally moved out several months ago when I got married. My mom is the kind of person that always needs to be right. I was not allowed to speak my mind or feel emotion. If she was yelling at me for something, I just had to take it, even if I didn't do anything wrong, because I feared her too much to even try to speak for myself. When I was 13 years old, I had cleaned the bathtub for the first time. My oldest sister showed me how to do it, and I did it exactly as she showed me. There was this stain on the floor of the tub, and I tried my hardest to scrub it off, but it wasn't budging. I figured it really was a stain that couldn't be cleaned. Years later my other older sister told me that the stain is from the iron in the water and she has tried to clean it before with no success. But when I was done cleaning the bathroom, my mom went in to see how I did, and when she saw the tub, she flipped out. She forced my to stand in the doorway while she screamed to the top of her lungs in my face, saying how lazy I was, and I don't remember what else she said. I tried to tell her that I tried my to get the stain up but she wouldn't listen, it only made her angrier. Crying also made her angrier. After that, I went into my room by myself and closed the door. I was so distraught and angry that without thinking, I picked up the nearest sharpest object, which was a wire hanger on my bedroom floor, and I started to scrape my wrist with the hook on the hanger. I didn't bleed but left marks that healed within a couple of days. I forgot about it after that and didn't self-harm again until 2 years later.
It was after another conflict with my mom that I cut myself for the first time when I was 15. It became the norm for me every time I ran into conflict with my parents. Since I wasn't allowed to show anger or tears to them (because it would just make my mom angrier and yell at me for showing anger or crying), even if my anger and tears were completely justified, I then started to take care of it myself by cutting myself. It was the only way I knew how to relief my anger in private. Sometimes, I did it to spite my parents. Even though they didn't know it was happening (and still don't know to this day) it was my way of getting back at them for wronging me. Sometimes I just did it for the sense of calm that washed over me when I did it. The self-injury didn't stop completely until I moved out, when I didn't have a need to do it anymore.
Late high school, I started to really confront my issues. I questioned why I had so much anxiety all the time, why I had panic disorder throughout high school for seemingly no reason, and why my sexuality wasn't "normal." I never craved sex, only spanking. It made me feel like I was weird and different from everyone else in the world. I started to research a lot, and that is when I realized that I wasn't the only one that dealt with the sexualization of spankings. Around this time of self-exploration, my sisters began to bring up our childhood more. They spoke about things that I had no memory of. Apparently, my older sisters went to school everyday with bruises all over their bodies from beatings from my mom. This led me to remember that I used to have a lot of bruises too, mostly on my legs, but I don't know if it was from my mom or from being a clumsy kid when playing. Does anyone else remember having bruises but not sure if due to abuse or clumsiness/playing? Other memories my sisters have include my mom hitting my oldest sister in the head with a textbook, my dad trying to protect my sister as she was being beat repeatedly by my mother with a belt and my dad trying to tell my mom to stop and that's enough, and my mom taking turns sitting on me and my younger sister as she beat us with a belt (I don't have any memory of this, but apparently it was a frequent thing).
My younger sister told me that we didn't get it as bad as our older siblings. She did say that my older sister said that she was never scared when she witnessed spankings given to my younger sister and me, but there was one particular instance that did really scare her. She told my younger sister that she thinks she remembers it being me who my mom was beating that time. So I went to my older sister and asked her about it. She described to me what she remembers and I felt like my heart dropped into my stomach. What I heard sickened me so much that I started to panic. What she told me was that my mom was sitting on me (a young child) and beating the crap out of me with a belt to the point where I was shaking. Afterwards my sister held me as I cried and cried with me. I still have no memory of it.
I know in my mind that I was beaten by my mom, and not infrequently, and I can remember some things, like threats and things leading up to punishments, but never the actual beating itself. I do remember my mom throwing a hairbrush at my older sister. I remember my mom threatening my sister and I that she would put hot pepper on our tongues (she would actually taking the spice out of the cabinet and show it to us, I don't remember if the threat was ever carried out). I remember my mom tightly grabbed my younger sister's cheeks with her hands and was yelling in her face. I remember an incident where my mom threw her sneakers at my sister and I as we were crying and running away from her, and afterward my dad comforted us while we cried in bed. I remember my mom chasing me around the dining room table with a belt, telling me if I didn’t stop running away that it would be worse, but I have no memory of the beating that followed. I remember being pulled out of bed at night to get beat, but I don't remember what came next. I remember my mom always hanging the belt on the bedpost at the corner of the bed as a threat to my sister and I. I remember all the sounds of a coming beating: my angrily jumping out of bed at night, stomping across the creaky hardwood floor, the sound of her noisy closet door sliding open, the sound of her grabbing the belt, the flicking on of the hallway light-switch. All of those sounds stuck with me. Sometimes I wished I remembered the actual beatings so I felt more validated in my story, but part of me is scared to remember what happened to me.
I've had several nightmares. I remember a couple nightmares as a kid of my mom hurting my younger sister, but they were exaggerated and not things that actually happened. For example, in one dream my mom was angry at my sister and then threw her out her bedroom window into the backyard. The other dream my mom was angry at my sister and then threw her against our fireplace in our living room. I had a nightmare a couple years ago that my then boyfriend was hurt and in the hospital, but I had a mini nightmare about my mom in the dream that only lasted very shortly and then went back to my boyfriend being hurt. I think in my dream I was having a “flashback” and that’s why my dream was momentarily interrupted by the mini nightmare. It wasn’t an actual memory (I know this because I was in my then current room which I didn’t move into until I was much older when my mom wasn’t hitting us anymore), but it still held some truth to it. I was in my room, and was laying on my back on my bed, and my mom had a belt in her hand yelling at me to turn over, and she was pinning me down and trying to turn me over onto my stomach, and I was freaking out, crying, and screaming Jesus’s name, asking Him to help me, and that’s when it ended and my dream went back to what it was previously about. I feel like that even though it was a dream, Jesus actually heard me still and ended the nightmare for me. I had another nightmare a year ago that my mom was angry and yelling about a cereal box being in the wrong cabinet and it making a mess in that cabinet. She was blaming me for it and yelling at me, even though I knew that I did not have anything to do with it. She had my sister and I clean it up. My now husband who I was only a few months in of dating was sitting next to me on the couch downstairs, and I was really humiliated about being yelled at in front of him. I wanted to hurt myself but I could not because he was right next to me. I just stared off into space instead. At one point I did try punching myself but he stopped me. As I walked away from him into the hallway, I began to hit my head against the wall. I came around into the kitchen where my sister was helping clean the cabinet to help her. During all of this my mom was still angry and yelling. I said quietly to my sister that I did not do it and she quietly said that she believed me. I had the strong urge to just slam my head against the kitchen counter. Once we were done cleaning up, I was angry for being blamed and yelled at. In response, I loudly shut the cabinet door. My mom was downstairs when this happened and heard it and turned around and got even angrier. I started to walk out of the room to get away from the situation which made her even angrier, saying my first and middle name. I started to cry and tried to explain that I was just angry. She began to come after me, and I backed away terrified, and then I woke up. Any nightmares I've had about my mom in the past couple years, I've woken up very distressed and mid-crying out, and then crying more.
There were incidents with my dad when I was in late elementary school and in middle school, which my mom stopped beating us by then. I have no memory of whether or not my dad ever punished my siblings and I when we were younger. I do remember him comforting us after punishments. But there was a time (and I remember this because I was 10 at the time) where he got mad at my sister for not putting away her scooter that she left outside when he kept asking her too, but she kept saying she was scared to go outside because it was getting dark (I now think to myself, the easy solution to this would be for him to just go outside with her to put it away). He continued to ask her and she continued to refuse. He finally got angry and told her that he was going to get the belt. After he went and got it, he and my sister argued with each other for a little until he chased her upstairs. I can still hear her screams and the sound of the belt hitting her. It's unpleasant. I walked upstairs and saw her trying to hide behind my older sister, who didn't do anything. The last thing I saw was my dad hit her again. She was 9 years old when this happened. There were moments where I saw a smirk on my dad's face. He enjoyed threatening her and enjoyed beating her.
I remember being hit by him a couple times (I was around 9-12 years old). Once he slapped me hard across the face. It felt degrading. I don't even remember what it was for (what is the point of physical punishment if we don't even remember why we received it?). My sister pointed out to him that the skin on my cheek was red and raised. He felt sorry about it afterwards. I remember another incident when I was around 12 where he smacked me hard on the backside about 3 times with his hand (again I don’t remember why), and by that point I had already developed my sexual fetish/obsession with spanking and punishment, so it felt violating and extra uncomfortable for me. I feel extremely uncomfortable and disgusted still when I think back to it now, since it was a sexual violation for me, and still would be if he or anybody else did that to me now. We were at my grandmother's house later that day and he mentioned with amusement in his voice in front of a few family members that he spanked me earlier that day, which absolutely humiliated me. I get almost like intrusive thoughts about the whole experience once in a while at night so that I have trouble sleeping and it’s really distressing for me.
Today, I still have extreme discomfort thinking about any of these things, let alone talking about them with another person. When I first began sharing with my husband about any of these things while I was dating him, I would completely freeze up, not being able to speak or move, and it would last for several minutes. All my muscles would be so tense that by the end of it I would be in pain. And this is really hard to admit, but I even had sexual arousal while writing all of this, not in a way that I was turned on, but in a very uncomfortable, violating way. I'm not sure if anyone else experiences that when thinking/talking about something that is traumatic for them. I feel like after I came to the realization that I was abused (it still feels extremely weird to even admit that), that everything in my life and my identity connected. I see how my earliest sexual fantasizes were a picture of my angry mom and my comforting dad who "saved" me from beatings. It took me a very long time to get comfortable using my trigger words with my husband. I don't even use them in terms of abuse, only for sexual play in the bedroom, which only then is still barely tolerable for me. My self-injury habit was a direct result of my mom's emotional abuse towards me. I have anger issues still, I don't know how to express my anger. I have difficulty regulating my emotions in general, although ever since I started on Lexapro, emotional regulation and symptoms of generalized anxiety disorder and social anxiety got a lot better. I wonder if the panic disorder I had in high school and generalized anxiety disorder is related to any of this. I find it hard to believe that I had and still have anxiety disorders for no reason. I would never bring up any of this stuff to my parents, how they affected me. My mom is in denial of it. At the same time I pity my parents, because I would feel so guilty if I this is what I did to my kids. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. For those of you who are reading this, thank you for giving me a space to share my collections of memories, from myself and my siblings, and share how I think my identity as a person developed for those who are reading this. I want to know that I am not the only one, that other people go through the things I do now as a result of childhood abuse. Typing anonymously on the internet is much easier than talking to someone in person. For anyone who is concerned for me, I have been in therapy in a while and have shared some of these things. But I guess my therapist and I had thought that was all I needed to move on, so we haven't touched on it for several months. But since I am being triggered in school, I will be bringing it up in my next therapy session (my therapist is awesome by the way). Thank you again.
submitted by harmony4850 to CPTSD [link] [comments]


2020.10.10 15:27 stevenxdavis Sex hidden in hospital

My Position: Writer
Looking For: Artist
Genre: Fantasy / Humor
Audience: PG-13
Title: Saint Dewey's Hospital for Villains
Synopsis: An intrepid hero has finally triumphed over a nefarious villain, tossing said villain over a cliff into a pit of lava on a marooned spaceship hurtling toward a dying sun in an alternate universe ten billion years ago. In next week's episode, the villain comes back for more. Saint Dewey's Hospital for Villains tells the story of a medical school graduate who begins his residency in a secret health care facility only to find out it exclusively treats caters to villains and uses dangerous, experimental treatments. Despite his moral misgivings, he develops a crush on a former villainess turned candy striper and decides to stay.
The setting is a large hospital hidden in the rainforest of an unspecified South American country. There is nothing around except a nearby strip mall with a diner, general store, veterinary clinic for villainous creatures, law office, and whatever else might be relevant to the plot. Outside this setting, we can assume that essentially every fantasy and science fiction story is happening, and any kind of villain can show up for treatment.
Format: The webtoon would be in multiple-episode chapters, with each chapter having a self-contained story featuring one or more villains who would be original creations, non-infringing parodies of well-known villains, or a combination of both. The main characters' story arcs would span multiple chapters.
The genre is primarily fantasy, but the story has a lot of humor and some moments of drama and romance (similar to The Good Place, although I'm flattering myself by making that comparison). There would be some swearing, innuendo, and fantasy violence, but no graphic violence, nudity, or sex.
Schedule: The artist can decide on whatever regular schedule works for them. Ideally, we would release something each week to keep up interest.
Art Style: I'm looking for an artist who can draw expressive faces and is willing try to draw anything and make it recognizable in a consistent style. The story is all about humanizing bad guys and dealing with thorny ethical problems, so it's more important that readers empathize with the characters than it is for the characters to look any particular way. Can you draw a depressed Bowser sharing a hospital room with a cheery Cruella de Vil? Can you depict that triumphantly uncomfortable feeling when you carve your name on the moon with a giant laser but accidentally spell it wrong? Can you draw a convincing three-armed gunman in a sweatsuit?
Most panels will be character dialogue over basic backgrounds, with establishing shots and occasional action panels. If the artist wants to do simplified or exaggerated art styles for certain panels, that would work, too.
Me: I've been writing and editing for a long time and I've done some cool stuff. You can check out several short stories on my (badly out of date) website, including the one that sort of inspired this webtoon idea. I've also worked with an illustrator to self-publish a children's book through Kickstarter.
Payment: Right now, this is voluntary, but I'm hoping it will become an actual 50/50 collaboration. I'm utterly useless as an artist, but as a law student, I can do lots of boring managerial stuff, so I could run a Patreon, Kickstarter, website, social media, and so forth. For what it's worth, I've also worked as a proofreader and math tutor and can help with that stuff.
Contact: Please DM me on Reddit or Discord (stevenxdavis#5565).
submitted by stevenxdavis to webtoons [link] [comments]


2020.10.06 16:01 0kthb14 [Kpop] A nurse costume in a music video, a Korean labor union, fanwars, and discourse on sexism in Korean society

I'm a longtime reader of HobbyDrama, but this is my first time posting. I've been following this particular controversy on social media, and it's been driving me nuts, so I gave it a shot and did this writeup. Hope I did it justice, I tried my best to present everything in an even light.
Background
Blackpink is one of, if not the most popular girl groups in Kpop right now. They've been around since 2016, and since then, some of their music videos have passed a billion views, they've collaborated with Lady Gaga, Cardi B, and Selena Gomez, and they performed at Coachella last year. Disclaimer, I'm a Blackpink fan in terms of liking their music, but I don't really engage with the intense fandom spaces, particularly Twitter, so this is all stuff I've just observed.
On October 2, Blackpink put out the music video for Lovesick Girls , the main single from their first album, creatively titled The Album. Like you might expect from the title, it's a song about breakups and heartbreak. Nothing that could stir up controversy, right?
Jennie and Her Costume
In the second verse of the song, the music video for "Lovesick Girls" shows one of the members, Jennie Kim, playing both a patient and a nurse in a therapy session (starting at 1:32). Jennie appears in the nurse costume for less than 10 seconds, as it only appears in that scene, and even then, it's more focused on the "patient" character. But some were displeased with the nurse costume, and made their displeasure known online.
It's also worth mentioning that this particular member, Jennie, has been subject to online hate before, which should be kept in mind coming into this dustup. She's arguably the group's most popular member (although all 4 are absurdly popular), or at least its public face, and some Blinks (Blackpink's fandom name) have viewed management decisions by YG Entertainment, their label, such as giving Jennie flashier stage costumes, or giving her a solo debut before any of the other members as evidence that she's the company favorite, and have directed hate her way for it. Her public image of being more chic and sexy, as opposed to the more typical cutsey innocent girl group persona, has also garnered her hate, for the typical sexist reasons.
During some performances in 2018, Jennie also came under scrutiny for allegedly lazy dancing , which garnered her a ton of online abuse as well, as these trolls said this was clearly evidence that she didn't care about the rest of the group, and was selfish and entitled, yada yada. In August 2020, a Blink's post on the Korean blog site Pann stated that in fact, Jennie had been working with an ankle injury, which was why her dancing had declined in 2018. In response to this, Blinks trended #ApologizeToJennie on Twitter, and in general have become pretty protective of her.
The Initial Controversy
On October 5, the Korean Health and Medical Workers Union (KHMWU) put out a statement taking issue with Blackpink and their label YG Entertainment for their portrayal of nurses (translation via Soompi )
"In the YG Entertainment group BLACKPINK’s “Lovesick Girls” music video that was released on October 2, one of the members appeared in a nurse’s outfit. The cap, tight and short skirt, and high heels are completely different from an actual nurse’s outfit. The outfit and portrayal directly imitate the typical sexual stereotype and excuse it as a simple “costume.”
Even though nurses are professional healthcare workers, for the sole reason that there are more women in the profession, they have been subject to sexual objectification and derogatory portrayals expressing doubts about their professionalism. Nurses have been fighting for a long time to change this, and in 2020, when the discussion about women’s rights is more active than ever, YG Entertainment sexually objectified the image of a nurse in BLACKPINK’s music video. The music video gained almost 100 million views in three days since its release. In a real hospital, not the ones in the media, nurses are fighting at the frontlines of COVID-19 and taking on the risk of infection for the safety and survival of the citizens. There has been a climate of heroizing nurses as well, but there are still those who call nurses “hey” or “young lady” and let out their stress on them or exercise their power on them. Furthermore, nurses are the healthcare workers who are the most frequently exposed to sexual abuse. If the media continues to show a distorted image of nurses, situations like these will only get worse.
After the music video was revealed, hashtags like #NursesAreNotCostumes, #Stop_Sexualizing_Nurses, and #nurse_is_profession appeared on social media. Sexual objectification of professions with a higher ratio of women to men has gone on for too long to simply think of this as the voice of the minority in an online space.
The Korean Health and Medical Worker’s Union strictly opposes sexual objectification of women and nurses. As BLACKPINK’s new song is ranking high on charts globally, we call on YG Entertainment to take responsible measures to match their popularity and influence."
Initial Fallout and Fanwars
As you can imagine, fans did not take this well. I can't link to anyone's personal Twitter, but from what I saw, some Blinks have taken to spamming hate at any Korean users who use the KHMWU's hashtags. However, despite kicking off this controversy, much of the drama has become between Kpop fans, rather than between Blinks and Koreans who support the KHMWU.
Some Blinks have suggested that the ARMY (fans of BTS, mega-popular Kpop boy group) are behind the campaign, and trying to sabotage Blackpink's success to boost BTS (who are also doing very well internationally right now). Sections of Kpop Twitter quickly devolved into a BTS-Blackpink fanwar.
Those in support of the KHMU point to the real issue of the "sexy nurse" stereotype, and how it harms women in the healthcare field, and promotes a sexualized view of women who are just doing a job, which can lead to harassment and abuse.
Blinks and their supporters argued back that Jennie and Blackpink are unfair targets for this issue, as the nurse outfit in question only appears for a few seconds, and although inaccurate, is not particularly revealing (no cleavage, the skirt is knee length, though she is in stiletto heels).Blinks have also pointed out that other popular Kpop groups, such as Girls' Generation and the aforementioned BTS , have worn doctor and nurse costumes in music videos without getting backlash like this.
One public figure who I can link to is Jeff Benjamin, a music journalist who covers a lot of Kpop, and recently interviewed Blackpink, who weighed in, calling the controversy a sexist double standard . If you look at the replies, some comments, mostly from Blinks, thanked him for supporting Jennie, but others criticized him for being a white man speaking on a Korean women's issue, and called him ignorant of the issue of misogyny and objectification in Korean society.
The Nth Room Angle
One Korea-specific angle a lot of non-Korean Kpop fans are ignorant of is this controversy's relation to the "Nth Room" case. The Nth Room was the name of a set of groups on the encrypted messaging app Telegram where a ring of anonymous Korean users spread blackmailed and sexually exploitative pornographic photos and videos of both women and underage girls, some of whom were kept as sex slaves. In the last year, the group was uncovered, some of the perpetrators have been arrested, and South Korea has tightened laws around online sex crimes. Really grim, upsetting stuff, link to an article here for more detail.
This case and the uproar are related to an overall movement by Korean feminists and women's groups against pervasive sexism and abuse of women in modern Korean society, and the Nth Room case further escalated public anger. A related issue is "molka", referring to voyeuristic videos and pictures taken from secret spy cameras hidden in public places, the vast majority of which target women. This has been the focus of much of the Korean #MeToo movement, as feminists have pushed against the sexualization and exploitation of women in everyday settings.
How does this relate to that Blackpink video? Allegedly, there was a section of the Nth Room specifically dedicated to nurse outfit fetishes. Some comments I saw (although I'm not sure if this is right) said that sexualization of nurses was so bad that Korean search engines had to age-restrict simply looking up the word "nurse." Thus, for the KHMU, the image of the sexy nurse is a particularly sensitive and objectionable topic right now, as the Nth Room saga is still quite fresh in the public mind. Mix in the COVID-19 pandemic, and you can see why people might be sensitive around perceived offenses towards healthcare workers.
Official Response
In response to this controversy, YG Entertainment stepped in and issued a statement on October 6 (translation via that same Soompi article)
"First, we express our deep respect to the nurses who are always staying by the patients’ sides and fighting in the frontlines.
“Lovesick Girls” is a song that raises the question of why we continue to find love when we are hurt by it while also conveying a hopeful message.
In the “Lovesick Girls” music video, the scene with the nurse and the patient reflects the lyrics, “No doctor could help when I’m lovesick.”
There was no specific intention to it, but we are concerned about the distorted views.
We ask that you think of music videos as an independent genre of art, and we would appreciate it if you could understand that each scene was made with no other intention than to express the music.
The production team is currently deliberating and discussing whether the scene should be edited out"
This isn't the first time this year a Blackpink music video has faced controversy and calls for edits. In June, the video to the single "How You Like That" caused controversy for including a statue of the Hindu god Ganesha as a prop sitting on the floor of one scene. This caused an uproar from many South Asian and Hindu fans, and the music video was re-edited to remove the shots with the statue.
As of writing this, the nurse scene is still in the Lovesick Girls video. While they still could edit it at any point, I'm not certain they will, since when the Ganesha statue issue came up, they quickly edited the video, and only made a statement to announce it had been edited, not that they were considering it.
As always, it's a mess when obsessive fandoms meet real world social issues, and the (very legitimate) issues the KHMU raised have largely been drowned out by arguments on stan Twitter. Blinks, from a cursory look at Twitter, seem to view the whole thing as another unfair attack on Jennie, but YG seems to take it more seriously than most fandom drama, as they actually put out a statement, albeit a fairly handwavey one.
EDIT:UPDATE 10/7:
YG Entertainment issued an apology and has decided to delete the scene featuring the nurse costume
Full statement:
"This is YG Entertainment.
We have decided to edit out all of the scenes with the nurse uniform in BLACKPINK’s “Lovesick Girls” music video, and we will replace the video as soon as possible.
While working on the music video for a long time, we did not expect this issue to be raised because [the scenes] had no specific intention to them. We feel greatly responsible for this and will consider it an opportunity to deeply learn.
We relay our apologies to the nurses who felt discomfort, and we once again express our respect to all healthcare workers who are working hard for the sake of the health of the citizens.
Thank you."
Needless to say, this has only inflamed Twitter Blinks, who are taking it as a betrayal of Blackpink and Jennie. Many tweets demanding they "protect" Blackpink.
EDIT 2: UPDATE 10/8
As of October 8, the music video for "Lovesick Girls" has been edited to remove all shots of Jennie's nurse costume.
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