#weird story

[misseviehyde]

BITS AND PIECES

Molly was beginning to regret entering the cursed dolls house with her friend Emma. True they'd been running away from their bitchy bully Madison and her clique and the strange abandoned house on the edge of town had seemed a safe refuge - but some feeling had told her at the time that they were putting themselves in terrible danger.

As they'd entered the old house, its evil magic had taken effect. The girls had groaned as their bodies changed. Plastic skin gleamed as joints became articulated and in a matter of minutes they'd been transformed into living animate dolls. Emma and Molly now looked like toys... but toys that could walk and talk.

They tried to leave, but the mansion also appeared to be bigger on the inside than the outside and now they were trapped clopping around in the impossible maze-like dimensions of the house.

"Oh my goodness," gasped Emma in horror at her new plastic body. "This... this can't be possible!" She reached over to touch her own arm and screamed as she accidentally detached it from the articulated joint with a pop. Then she calmed, realising it didn't hurt and there was no blood.

Molly looked at her friend in shock. "Looks like we have detachable parts now. Just like a real doll," mused Emma - and before Molly could stop her, she had yanked Molly's arm till it came out with a pop.

Molly watched in sick fascination as Emma popped Molly's arm into her socket and pushed her orignal arm into Molly.

Emma giggled, she now had Molly's sleeve of tattoos and she wiggled her new arm with fascination.

"Looks like we can swap body parts now. I wonder if we get out of the house, would this become permanent?"

"Hey! Give me my arm back!"

"Mmmmh. Later. This feels kinda good..."

Ignoring Molly'd protests, the two of them began looking around and finding a staircase they climbed up it hoping to possibly find a window or something on the upper floor.

They found nothing, so wandering around for a few minutes they returned to the staircase - only to find Madison flanked by her bitchy lieutenants waiting.

She and her cohorts were also now plastic dolls. Madison looked like a demented Barbie.

"I don't know how you nerds turned us into these dolls, but you'll pay for this," screamed the plastic bully as she waved her jointed arms around in rage.

But before she could do anything all three girls began to scream as Emma suddenly rushed at them and pushed them down the stairs.

They tumbled and fell backwards, their plastic bodies breaking and falling into pieces as they fell down the stairs. Their heads rolled away from their torsos and other bits broke off as they landed in a heap of bits and pieces.

Molly looked at her friend in horror. "You... you killed them."

"No, they aren't dead. The magic seems to make us invulnerable. We can put them back together again later. But before we do..."

A wicked grin came over Emma's plastic face. Walking down the stairs she picked up one of Madison's legs. It was long and sexy, smoother and shapelier than her own. Popping her own leg off she attached Madison's instead and then grabbing the other one did the same.

"Mmmmmh ohhh fuck that feels good."

Giggling Emma stood up. She was now taller and her legs looked amazing. "Oh fuckkkk. I feel so much more powerful and dominant. Soooo confident. Mmmmh these body parts come with feels and I LIKE it. Taking your arm felt good, but this is even better."

Admiring her legs, Emma began looking around with a hungry look on her face. There was a wild gleam in her eyes.

"Wh... what are you doing?" gasped Molly in sick fascination.

"Just making a few other improvements," smirked Emma. "After all if we have changeable parts now... why not?"

She grinned as she found what she was looking for. Lucy, Madison's minion, had the biggest tits at school. They were huge and round - massive fucking milkers that jiggled and wobbled enticingly. Now those tits lay ready to be used.

Lifting them up, Emma detached her own small breasts and with a click, pushed Lucy's onto her chest. "Ohhhh fuck yes, that feels good," she groaned in pleasure as they attached. "I feel like such a... such a fucking bitch. I need MORE."

Turning round she laughed. She now towered over Molly and her massive tits dominated the room.

Emma mashed her plastic tits with glee. "These are gonna feel so fucking good when I become a real girl again, but they are already making me feel so powerful. Mmmmmh I think I'd like to be a bully. Being pathetic boring Emma is so dull."

"Emma, this is crazy. You can't do this. It's wrong."

"You're right," giggled Emma. "It is wrong but it feels so fucking good. Besides I won't be Emma for long. I'm sick of being so weak and pathetic. My body is in control now and it needs a new head. This body deserves to be bitchy. I can take it all. I can become the bully."

Picking up Madison's lifeless looking blonde head from the floor, Emma laughed madly as she reached up and to Molly's shock casually ripped off her own head.

Her body simply tossed her old head aside like it didn't need it, then with a groan of pleasure pushed Madison's slutty blonde head into the neck socket till it clicked.

Evil eyes fluttered open and the new super bitch stretched happily. "Mmmmh yummy, feels so good to have a new personality in the driving seat. I AM Madison now."

"E.... Emma?"

"In a manner of speaking loser. There's bits of her inside my perfect new body - but I'm like totes the best parts of all you sluts now. Haha, now let's rebuild my minions and then I can leave and start my new hot life as a super bitch. Lucy will just have to cope with smaller tits. Think I'll help myself to a better ass and a tighter pussy too whilst we are at it. Hey... you're a virgin right loser? Bet your pussy is super tight..."

Molly whimpered as her new bully approached with a mad gleam in her cruel eyes and she screamed as the new Madison began to tear her apart...

****

Madison groaned as she exited the house and plastic became flesh again. She loved the sensation as all of her new body parts finally merged and turned her into the slutty bimbo bitch she deserved to be. She was now a mix of all the best parts of the girls and rubbing her massive tits she could feel her new superior pussy start to tingle.

Her two minions exited behind her, now looking smaller and weaker without the assets she had taken.

"What about that loser Molly, you aren't gonna leave her like that are you Madison?" asked Lucy sulking at her now small tits.

"What loser?" laughed Madison as she strode away. "I don't remember any loser. What a shame, imagine being trapped in that house forever."

And deep inside the cursed mansion, a plastic mouth screamed from amongst a discarded pile of bits and pieces...

THE END

[dnschmidt]

Hey, you... Wanna read something?

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐫��� 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

🏰Portal fantasy short story

💀Weird monsters

⚙️Creepy clockpunk vibes

😷Plague doctor(s)

📜42 pages

🪙Only 99 cents

Grab a Kindle copy here!

[thepalecrawlers]

Dog child spirit

[devildomwriter]

Just found out one of my ancestors was murdered on a steamboat in Georgia for his gold. Anyone else have a crazy ancestor story???

[theamenableone]

The Malleable Mannequin Girl

The boutique’s door jingled, and in swept Chloe—a tall, slender girl with a catlike gaze and an almost regal air of confidence. Behind her trailed her friends: Cassie, petite with a quick wit and a mess of auburn curls, and Lisa, a statuesque brunette with an effortless elegance. Bringing up the rear was Amy, the odd duck of the group, a step behind, hands full of shopping bags and expression one of pure, obedient adoration. Amy’s outfit was an exact copy of Chloe’s: same blouse, and mini skirt except that Amy’s was so short that it left the bottom half of her bubbly butt cheeks exposed. Each fleshy cheek bounced with her every step, the deep folds accentuating the soft curvature.

As the girls roamed through the store, Chloe occasionally glanced back at Amy with a smirk, mildly resentful that Amy’s skirt could be drawing more attention than her own. “Hey, Amy. Make yourself useful—grab that blue blouse.”

Amy nodded emphatically, her wide, blank blue eyes lighting up at Chloe’s words. Her lips—plush, ridiculous bags of plump flesh, bouncing slightly whenever she nodded—quivered with gratitude as she obediently echoed Chloe, emulating her unique gaze and confident air but with a gentle twist, as if proud of her subservience. “Oh, absolutely, Chloe! Useful... that’s me! The blue is the best one!”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by Amy’s eagerness. “How about that red one Amy? I think it’s the best,” she tossed out casually as she watched Amy hand Chloe the blouse, knowing Amy would mirror her whim.

“Oh, yes! The red! Definitely the best.” Amy said, the energy of her voice twisting to suit Cassie’s preferences, her expression a carbon copy of Cassie’s enthusiasm. Even her mannerisms directly mimicked Cassie’s, but with an air of humility.

Lisa gave a dry laugh, brushing hair back. “Didn’t you just say blue, though?” she asked with an amused tilt of her head.

Amy let out a similar dry laugh and brushed her hair back as well, “Oh, I did, didn’t I?” Amy responded, tilting her head in the exact same way while echoing Lisa’s sardonic tone; her agreeable response filtered through her big, spongy lips. “Red, blue... whatever you like. You all know best!”

Chloe steps in and sternly mutters, “Stop it. It’s obviously... the blue. You’re such a mindless idiot.” Amy’s demeanor instantly shifted again to mimic and echo Chloe. “Yes, Chloe. It’s obviously... the blue. You’re always right! I’m such a mindless idiot. Thank you for setting me straight!”

After a while, the girls grew absorbed in shopping, laughing and trying on accessories and dresses, completely forgetting about the girl with arms laden in bags. The moment they turned away, Amy’s face relaxed, and the flicker of life faded from her features. Her eyelids drifted half-closed, her eyes unfocused, her meaty mouth hanging open and slack. Her whole body stilled until she resembled an abandoned mannequin, not a single spark of attention left in her eyes.

Minutes stretched on. She stood like that, arms limp under the weight of shopping bags, her gaping mouth slightly damp from her parted lips, which jutted forward from her face, heavy and idle. A curious customer walked by and raised an eyebrow at her, poking one of her lips with a finger. The plump, protruding mouth jiggled from the slight flick, the fleshy mass bouncing before gradually settling back, an echo of life in an otherwise blank, doll-like face. The woman stared into the vacant girl’s empty, unmoving eyes and spoke to herself. “These new mannequins are so... strange.” The woman chuckled lightly before moving on, leaving Amy inert as ever.

After what seemed like ages, Chloe and the others finally swept back by, each one plucking their shopping bags and clothes from Amy’s arms, but not one of them addressed her. Amy’s vacant eyes maintained a fixed gaze as they lightened her load, her body remaining immobile, her eyes wide and unfocused as the last bag left her fingers, leaving her arms dangling at her sides. Her massive lips drooped, her protruding mouth beginning to drool profusely.

A few minutes after Chloe’s group left her behind, a gaggle of rowdy guys sauntered in, loudly laughing and jostling one another. The group’s ringleader—a tall, scrapy-looking young man in a worn baseball cap and jeans torn at the knees—spotted Amy’s frozen, wide-eyed form and snickered. He elbowed his friend. “Yo, man, ain’t that that girl we heard about?”

One of his friends, a wiry guy with a cocky grin, leaned in closer, his eyes widening as he took in Amy’s blank, drooling expression. “Oh, yeah... Isn’t she the one known for... uh, her ‘skills’?” He wiggled his eyebrows, snickering with his friends.

Their leader tilted his hat and gave her a quick poke on the shoulder, speaking in a Texan accent and with a condescending mock politeness, “Hey, darlin’, you sure look silly standing there like a statue.”

Amy blinked, life flaring back into her eyes as she took in the ringleader’s rugged, cocky demeanor, instantly enamored by his presence. Her expression softened, transforming into one of adoration as she mirrored his Texan drawl with wide-eyed enthusiasm, and emulated his politeness but instead of executing it with mockery, she does it with an honest but less than dignifying slavishness, “Why, howdy, Sir! You’re so right. I sure do look silly standing here like a statue!” Her meaty lips bounced heavily as she spoke, her voice quivering with gratitude. “How rude of me to just stand here! I’d be mighty honored if I could help you boys out!”

The ringleader’s smirk grew as he chuckled. “Well, you got the right idea. Y’know, you’re gonna have to put those big lips to use for us, got it? Now... follow us. C’mon, get movin’.”

Amy smirks as well, the fleshy pads of her mouth curling upward. She chuckles in a lighter tone before fawning over the imposing man. “Oh, absolutely! Anything to please you, Sir! Thank you so much for telling me what to do!” Amy nodded eagerly, her lips bouncing with the momentum, her face lighting up with genuine joy as she followed behind the group, every step a grateful affirmation. Her gaze stayed locked on the ringleader, drinking in every word and movement as if he were the most important person in the world. The boys snickered to themselves as they led her toward the back hallway.

Hours later, as the boutique emptied out and the lights dimmed, the janitor ambled out of the storage room with his mop and bucket, whistling a low tune as he went about his business. In the dim glow of the bathroom’s half-lit space, he barely registered the silhouette of a woman posed in a squat position in one of the stalls behind him, her empty eyes gazing forward, her enormous lips drooping and hanging agape as saliva drips to the floor, forming a pool below her. Her body is so still it blends in with the background.

Without a second glance, he started his mopping, oblivious to the shadowed, inert figure lifelessly posed behind him. The inert young woman’s head slowly fell to right, the pillow pads of lip meat flopping sideways and drooping with such juicy weight that they pulled her head further downward, almost meeting her shoulder. Her squatting lower half remained unmoving except for her faint breathing. The janitor, who didn’t even notice, kept mopping and whistling to himself, lazily ignoring the stalls.

[unadulteratedpiratepizza]

So, after the big apocalypse thing happened, and we were all left suffering and starving, I thought to myself, "Now would be a great time to become a Post-Apocalyptic Raider." And you know how much I've always wanted to be a Post-Apocalyptic Raider, right?

So I go on down to the local Post-Apocalyptic Raider camp and I find their leader, Grognak The Breaker, and I say to them "Hey Grognak The Breaker, I know you already have plenty of Post-Apocalyptic Raiders, but this has always been a dream of mine, so could I please pledge my life to your cause and become a Post-Apocalyptic Raider?"

And you want to know what they said to me? They said they were only looking for experienced Post-Apocalyptic Raiders, and that all applicants need to have at least five years of experience. Can you believe that!? Five fucking years!? The Post-Apocalypse has only going on for three! How did all of their raiders already have experience? What was I supposed to be doing, raiding while society was in decline but before the total collapse? Of course, I don't say any of that, I just thank Grognak The Breaker for their time and see myself out, and that's basically where I'm at now.

Anyways, so how was your day?

[nixierain]

Hey I had a new story idea

Its inspired by the song "Honeypie" by jawny and the game "Rot in paradise" from SIG (you guys should already know these things alright. Also since this is my brain making this literally yesterday, the lore is not compleate and has a lot of holes in it currently.... So uh, yeah...

anyway warnings (no pics in this only mentions):

Blo*d (LOTS of it)

people popping like popcorn

Gaslighting

Disturbing things

drowning

Also y'know its me, my stories are typically horrible

BE WARNED

Mc: Drew Nicotine (belive it or not, not my first chracter to have the last name of an addictive drug) Other character: Callie Sage Backgrounds ig: The bartender, the random people drowing. Most of these people are just silloettes Title: Honey Pie

So Honey Pie takes place on a nice summer day at the beach. Drew is happily eating a slice of Honey Pie. Recently dumped (no hard feelings), he has a seperate slice. He finnishes his half and looks around to see if he can find anyone to share with. Then he see's this girl named Callie. She's pretty and alone sl he goes up to her, greeting her thoughtfully. She's very skeptical. So instead lf being a normal person, Drew decides to gaslight her into thinking that they had a class in high school together. It "works" she knows hes not, but rolls with it anyway, free food is free food.

The two hang out on the beach for the rest of the day, enjoying the sun. They go in for a kiss, and that is when drew FINALLY notices the people drowing (mind you they've been drowning all day) and realalizes somethings wrong. He doesnt kiss Callie and looks up. In the middle of saying something a person explodes, their guts going everywhere, then another person. The beach freaks out and everyone (unsick) is running away, the sick people are hunched over right before they explode. Drew hears something about the food at the bartending having something in it. He grabs Callies hand and tries to help her get away... But she explodes right in front of him, her guts and blood splattering him and the sand.

And thats what I got for the story :3 do yall like it. I will probably reblog this later with the character designs. Still WIP and sorry for the spoilers. Well comment below your thoughts alright, theres always room for improvement!!

[fakesurprise]

There were questions you didn’t ask when the answers could only bring pain.

[forgetyoursingalongsandlullabies]

So there’s a squirrel skeleton hanging out of a hole in the wall in the apartment facing mine and we joke that he is our apartment’s guardian.

It’s a kind of gross story. When we moved into this apartment 3 years ago there used to be a live squirrel who lived in that hole and we would watch him bring in food and rags and it was funny because it was a hole in the 5th floor of a brick apartment building. Then one day about 8 months in, his head was hanging out for too long and I said Oh no he’s dead! We told our super because we hoped that he would be able to get in contact with the super from the other building but nothing was ever done about it. Over the next several months we had to watch him swell and rot from our window. We have curtains, we were just morbidly curious I guess. Eventually he became a clean white squirrel skeleton just poking out from the hole always staring directly at us. We named him Hernando. Our cat Wednesday goes into that window and stands on her hind legs with her front paws on the window and stares and sometimes finishes with a downward dog type of bow. We say she worships our squirrel guardian and he protects us. I don’t know how skeletons work or hold together but I assumed his skull at least would eventually fall but he’s still there after almost 2 years.

[strickenspirit]

[tangledrootsparanormal]

Family trees have twists and turns, branches that bend and break, but it is in the complexity of their growth that the true beauty and resilience of a family's story is revealed.

[thepalecrawlers]

Out of body experience during surgery

[the-adventures-of-random]

597.

Random sat down and then stood up again. He did that a few more times, then he stood up and walked out of the room. We went into the waiting room and looked around for people. He didn’t see any, so he sat down by himself in the corner. He waited for a few moments then started to read through the magazine that was resting on the table. Random made a paper sculpture out of a page and then he made another one and another one, then he had built a whole city out of paper. Then the wind blew, and the city collapsed.

[writings-of-a-madman]

Paintings by Whales

TRIGGER WARNING - discussions of murder and mutilation of people, depictions of animal torture, depictions of animal death, a whale explodes

I will always remember that day so vividly. Holding my mother's hand in mine, looking back I can almost see how small my hand used to be, surrounded by hers. I remember how soft and warm the wind was, it felt as though it was embracing me. I remember the sun beginning to set, it made the filth look almost palatable. Almost.  

I always knew, even as a child, how disgusting my city was. Crawling with filth.  

Filth? 

Filth. So much of it. In every corner, every street, everywhere. Not even the people could escape its poisoning touch, turning them to monsters. Some places almost escaped; the beach was so close to beautiful. So close. But the people walked across its smooth sand, turning it black beneath their feet. But it became beautiful, so, so beautiful. 

How? 

The whale of course. When I first saw it lying there, wrapped in the soft sand, I thought it was a monster, but I realised it wasn’t. How could I ever accuse such a beautiful creature of being a monster.  

I had never seen one before, it felt like I was seeing an angel. My mother told me not to be scared, it was simply a beached whale, eventually people would go to help it. I hoped no one would. It didn’t need help. It sat there comfortably asleep. I asked if it would move again, if it would wake up. I remember the look in my mother's eyes as she told me no, she looked so sad. I didn’t understand why. I was glad it wouldn’t wake up. Forever peaceful. Forever beautiful. 

My mother should have probably realised that maybe it was a bit too round, its belly a bit too full. She didn’t. She didn’t expect it. Neither did I. It was peaceful, and then suddenly. 

Boom. 

I know my mother tried to shield me from the view, told me not to look, pushed my face against her own stomach to try to protect me. I think she was scared I was ‘traumatised’. 

Weren't you? 

Why would I ever be scared after witnessing such a blessing?  

A blessing?

A true blessing. I saw an angel and it saw me, and it blessed me with beauty. It rid my home of filth. The beach once so close to beautiful now was. It was beautiful at last. It made it beautiful. It made it all beautiful and I was a witness to it.  

I wanted to make the whole world beautiful, to share the beauty, is that such a crime? Wishing to share the wonder I was so lucky to behold. I wish I could have saw it again, just once more. 

You didn’t? 

No. People came. They took the beauty from its slumber. Dragged it away back to the sea. How lucky the sea must be. They covered the beauty it gave back with filth. Back to the blackened sand. How did no one else see what a miracle we had been blessed with? Why couldn’t they see? Were they blind to the beauty? To the gold it laid in front of us? I had to bring the beauty back, I had to. 

How? 

Recreation of course. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, so they say.  

How did you do it? 

Small at first. I wasn’t going to disrespect this miracle before perfecting it. I would never commit such an atrocity. 

I convinced my mother to get me fish from the local pet shop. I think she thought that was how I was coping with the event. I don’t know why I would need to cope; I experienced beauty for the first time. I tried to lay them out, wrapping them in warmth. They never gave beauty. Just more filth. 

Filth. Filth. Filth. 

I tried birds next. The way they flew, as though swimming through air, maybe they would bring beauty. They didn’t. 

All they brought was filth.  

So what? 

I tried harder. I used a pump, attempting to get the eruption of beauty I witnessed.  

It never came. 

I used rocks, hammers, books. Everything. It was all filth. 

Then I used my hand. I broke them. Wing by wing, foot by foot. Each feather fell off its body. It was no longer filth. It was beauty, a beauty I controlled. A beauty I painted across the floor, the walls, myself.  

It wasn’t the same. This time I was a God, controlling the beauty my angels gave. 

My mother pretended she never knew; that she didn’t see, but I did. I saw it all. Saw her scared face, the green tint to her flesh when she cleaned the beauty off my walls. I saw all, my ever-present eyes witnessing her betrayal of the miracle I blessed into our home. 

As I grew, my angels did to. I no longer found them swimming through the sky or sea, now I found them swimming through oceans of people, following waves of music.  

I found them swimming so alone and forgotten. But I could see how clean they were. How beautiful. The few that weren't covered in filth. 

And I shared their beauty. 

I made my miracles; I shared these miracles. Shared these beauty's no one else appeared to appreciate. 

Why? 

Because I was a kind God. 

You seem to think of me as a monster, I can see in your eyes, the questions. ‘How could I do it. All those women, children, men, how could you’, I'll tell you how I could; because the world deserved beauty. I was giving beauty to the world, and you have decided that was evil. You have decided I was the monster, that I was the one who brought filth to the world but that was you. All you. You are the filth; you embody the filth. You should be on your knees, thanking me for the miracles I have blessed you with. 

I brought you beauty, yet you sit here, judgemental and filthy, deciding I am the monster.

[seryu-17]

School curse?

So, I am going to tell you about a thing about my school which I think is really weird and kind of scary. This isn't normally the stuff I blog about, but today I talked with a friend about this and I found it pretty much scary and I wanna know hat y'all think about this. Idk if you can call it a curse but tell me your opinion!

So, last week an old student (20 years old) from my school died in a car accident. He gratuated two years ago I think. We've lost a couple of old student in the past few years and I think all due to car accidents. They we're also around 20 by the time.

My friend told me, that a teacher told her, that it is like a curse, because it's kinda like that always at least one student of a class dies in a car accident after they finished school. This year, my class will gratuate from school and I am afriad that someone of us will die in the next years due to a car accident. I am ofc also afraid, that it could be me. I guess, everyone would be afraid to die. But the teacher is kinda right. As my friend told me told me today what he has told her back than it kinda hit me and I realised that he has a point.

Maybe I am tooo paranoid, but what do you guys think about that and Istg that it's always a car accident. One of my friends that left our school earlier had a ar accident and she was super lucky that she survived. She was in the same class as me and almost died in a car accident. Idk if this already has to do something with this "Curse". Another person of my class had a bike accident and luckily survied. It isn't a car, but still.

So let me know your thoughts about this. Maybe I am just overreacting....

[whoevenisoliver]

so I just left my examination centre and my friend told me weirdest fucking thing just happened in the exams ever.

for context, me and my friend are assigned to different examination centres because we go to different schools.

picture this, you're sitting down, nervous as all hell, waiting for your examiner to hand out the papers as someone storms in the room 5 minutes before the exam starts, WITH 24 APPLE JUICE BOXES.

'okay completely normal' ,you think, maybe they're high, who knows.

they plop down the boxes beside their seat.

midway through the exam you start hearing crinkling at the back of the room.

THE FUCKER WAS CHUGGING ALL THE JUICE BOXES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EXAM. WHAT THE FUCK.

the examiner looks at them shakes their head and looks back down at their tea, catching their head in their hands.

the examiner didn't even check the boxes to see if they were cheating. weirdest thing ever.

for further context this same guy fucking BLENDED HIS FINGERS DURING HIS COOKERY EXAM.