quote:

Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 18:22 schreef ClapClapYourHands het volgende:
Is al een topic over
vermiste zieke episodes van cartoons...

SPOILER

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn’t kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.

The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.

After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself…

After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it… or rather didn’t react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After 3 more days passed, the researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: “We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom.”

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: “We no longer want to be freed.”

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in ‘life.’

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject’s thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four ‘surviving’ test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep…

To everyone’s surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject’s teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word “MORE” over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake…

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. “Keep cutting.”

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: “I must remain awake.”

All three subject’s restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military ‘benefactors’ for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone’s surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. “I won’t be locked in here with these things! Not with you!” he screamed at the man strapped to the table. “WHAT ARE YOU?” he demanded. “I must know!”

The subject smiled.

“Have you forgotten so easily?” The subject asked. “We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread.”

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject’s heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, “So… nearly… free…”

SPOILER

Die Russische versies

quote:

Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 18:26 schreef 2Happy4U het volgende:
https://encyclopediadramatica.se/Creepypasta

Alsjeblieft TS

SPOILER

Die Russische versies

SPOILER: Pokémon: Black

Pokémon Black
I’m what you could call a collector of bootleg Pokémon games. Pokémon Diamond & Jade, Chaos Black, etc. It’s amazing the frequency with which you can find them at pawnshops, Goodwill, flea markets, and such.
They’re generally fun; even if they are unplayable (which they often are), the mistranslations and poor quality make them unintentionally humorous.
I’ve been able to find most of the ones that I’ve played online, but there’s one that I haven’t seen any mention of. I bought it at a flea market about five years ago.

Here’s a picture of the cartridge, in case anyone recognizes it. Unfortunately, when I moved two years ago, I lost the game, so I can’t provide you with screencaps. Sorry.
The game started with the familiar Nidorino and Gengar intro of Red and Blue version. However, the “press start” screen had been altered. Red was there, but the Pokémon did not cycle through. It also said “Black Version” under the Pokémon logo.
Upon selecting “New Game”, the game started the Professor Oak speech, and it quickly became evident that the game was essentially Pokémon Red Version.
After selecting your starter, if you looked at your Pokémon, you had in addition to Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle another Pokémon — “GHOST”.
The Pokémon was level 1. It had the sprite of the Ghosts that are encountered in Lavender Tower before obtaining the Sliph Scope. It had one attack — “Curse”. I know that there is a real move named curse, but the attack did not exist in Generation 1, so it appears it was hacked in.
Defending Pokémon were unable to attack Ghost — it would only say they were too scared to move. When the move “Curse” was used in battle, the screen would cut to black. The cry of the defending Pokémon would be heard, but it was distorted, played at a much lower pitch than normal. The battle screen would then reappear, and the defending Pokémon would be gone. If used in a battle against a trainer, when the Pokéballs representing their Pokemon would appear in the corner, they would have one fewer Pokéball.
The implication was that the Pokémon died.
What’s even stranger is that after defeating a trainer and seeing “Red received $200 for winning!”, the battle commands would appear again. If you selected “Run”, the battle would end as it normally does. You could also select Curse. If you did, upon returning to the overworld, the trainer’s sprite would be gone. After leaving and reentering the area, the spot [where] the trainer had been would be replaced with a tombstone like the ones at Lavender Tower.
The move “Curse” was not usable in all instances. It would fail against Ghost Pokémon. It would also fail if it was used against trainers that you would have to face again, such as your Rival or Giovanni. It was usable in your final battle against them, however.
I figured this was the gimmick of the game, allowing you to use the previously uncapturable Ghosts. And because Curse made the game so easy, I essentially used it throughout the whole adventure.
The game changed quite a bit after defeating the Elite Four. After viewing the Hall of Fame, which consisted of Ghost and a couple of very under leveled Pokémon, the screen cut to black. A box appeared with the words “Many years later…” It then cut to Lavender Tower. An old man was standing, looking at tombstones. You then realized this man was your character.
The man moved at only half of your normal walking speed. You no longer had any Pokémon with you, not even Ghost, who up to this point had been impossible to remove from your party through depositing in the PC. The overworld was entirely empty — there were no people at all. There were still the tombstones of the trainers that you used Curse on, however.
You could go pretty much anywhere in the overworld at this point, though your movement was limited by the fact that you had no Pokémon to use HMs. And regardless of where you went, the music of Lavender Town continued on an infinite loop. After wandering for a while, I found that if you go through Diglett’s Cave, one of the cuttable bushes that normally blocks the path on the other side is no longer there, allowing you to advance and return to Pallet Town.
Upon entering your house and going to the exact tile where you start the game, the screen would cut to black.
Then a sprite of a Caterpie appeared. It was the replaced by a Weedle, and then a Pidgey. I soon realized, as the Pokémon progressed from Rattata to Blastoise, that these were all of the Pokémon that I had used Curse on.
After the end of my Rival’s team, a Youngster appeared, and then a Bug Catcher. These were the trainers I had Cursed.
Throughout the sequence, the Lavender Town music was playing, but it was slowly decreasing in pitch. By the time your Rival appeared on screen, it was little more than a demonic rumble.
Another cut to black. A few moments later, the battle screen suddenly appeared — your trainer sprite was now that of an old man, the same one as the one who teaches you how to catch Pokémon in Viridian City.
Ghost appeared on the other side, along with the words “GHOST wants to fight!”.
You couldn’t use items, and you had no Pokémon. If you tried to run, you couldn’t escape. The only option was “FIGHT”.
Using fight would immediately cause you to use Struggle, which didn’t affect Ghost but did chip off a bit of your own HP. When it was Ghost’s turn to attack, it would simply say “…” Eventually, when your HP reached a critical point, Ghost would finally use Curse.
The screen cut to black a final time.
Regardless of the buttons you pressed, you were permanently stuck in this black screen. At this point, the only thing you could do was turn the Game Boy off. When you played again, “NEW GAME” was the only option — the game had erased the file.
I played through this hacked game many, many times, and every time the game ended with this sequence. Several times I didn’t use Ghost at all, though he was impossible to remove from the party. In these cases, it did not show any Pokémon or trainers and simply cut to the climactic “battle with Ghost.
I’m not sure what the motives were behind the creator of this hack. It wasn’t widely distributed, so it was presumably not for monetary gain. It was very well done for a bootleg.
It seems he was trying to convey a message; though it seems I am the sole receiver of this message. I’m not entirely sure what it was — the inevitability of death? The pointlessness of it? Perhaps he was simply trying to morbidly inject death and darkness into a children’s game. Regardless, this children’s game has made me think, and it has made me cry.

SPOILER

Er zit nu een skelet in je lijf.

SPOILER

The following is a witness's rencounter of their incident with The Slender Man
After waking up with a jolt, the girl laid in bed a few seconds longer. Reaching over to switch on her bedside lamp, she tried to remember exactly what had stolen her sweet slumber away. When she couldn’t, the brunette swung her legs over the side of the bed and heaved herself up. Checking the time on her phone, she snorted when she saw it was midnight; the witching hour. Knowing that sleep would only evade her, she left her bedroom for the kitchen, a good cup of coffee on her mind.
As she passed by her front door, a chill spread like liquid fire down her spine. It’s only Winter, she told herself, focusing again on the coffee plan. Measuring out scoops, water, and preparing her cup kept her occupied, but as the dark liquid boiled, she had nothing left to keep her mind from wandering off. The chill returned and she couldn’t help but glance behind her to the front door. It stood there innocently enough, just like always. The deadbolt was still in place and she could see nothing amiss with it. Turning back to her coffee, she did her best to forget about the feeling.

With her cup in hand, she started back towards her bedroom. As she walked by the front door, she decided that a quick glance out of the peep hole would help calm her restless thoughts. The chill worsened with each step she took towards the door and further away from the safety and warmth of her blankets. She pressed her empty hand against the cold, metal door and took a deep breath before leading her eye to the peep hole.

At first, she could only see an inky blackness and somehow seemed to swirl in itself. When she blinked in surprise, the void melted away. She wished it hadn’t. In it’s place, there stood what she could only guess was once a man. The limbs were long and inhumanly awkward, with bulky joints branching off into several arms, not unlike the branches of a tree. The creature was draped in a black suit, somehow making the thing more nightmarish to her. The icing on the proverbial cake, however, was what passed as the hellish thing’s face. It was as though her mind blurred the ghastly visage to spare itself further shock and horror.

Added by RetardoTheMagnificent
She shoved herself away from the door with the hand still pressed against it. The scalding mug of coffee fell, the liquid burning her bare legs as she fell backwards and tried to crawl away from the door. She knew, somehow, that her mind hadn’t been playing tricks on her. As she crab walked away from the door, she watched as tendrils as black as the void itself snake around through the cracks. The girl was trapped between the instinct to flee and the gut feeling to not turn her back on the door. When the door jolted, the urge to flee overcame her and she slipped in the burning liquid as she tried to make it back to her room.
She knew deep down that she was trapping herself in a corner, but she had to get away from the door. The girl was halfway down the hallway when she heard the previously locked door creak open. She screamed and slipped into a wall, cracking her chin on it and stunning her.

After that, there was only blackness.

-

“Nicole?” a warm, male voice snapped the woman out of her trance. As she turned around, she was met by one of her sister’s doctor’s. She nodded, not sure if she should say anything, or even if she could find her voice if she did have something to say. That morning, she had gotten an urgent phone call from the hospital, saying that her sister, Lindsay, was there. Before they had even let her see her, the doctor’s had pulled her off to the side and insisted that they talk to her about what might have happened. Phrases like ‘self-inflected’ and ‘assault’ had been thrown around and Nicole felt her mind reel.

She still hadn’t fully understood what they had been saying until she saw Lindsay with her own eyes. Her little sister had a bandage wrapped around her head, covering both of her ears as well as her eyes. They said it was to keep her now deadened eyes from drying out and to try to keep infection out of the wounds Lindsay had made to her ears. The doctors had guessed that either she or someone else had jammed a pencil into them to keep her off balance or to deafen herself against something. There was the mix of first and second degree burns on her hands, legs, and feet, from what was assumed to be the coffee her neighbors found slipped all over the entry to her apartment.

As Nicole walked into her sister’s hospital room the first time, she thought she had spied the silhouette of a man in the window. That, she knew, was impossible. Her sister’s room was on the third story of the hospital.

SPOILER

Cupcakes is a dark fan fiction set in the My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic universe. It depicts the character Pinkie Pie as a serial killer (though still keeping her in-universe bright and cheery demeanor) who drugs her friend Rainbow Dash, drags her to a hidden cellar and proceeds to slowly and brutally mutilate her to death. The extremely graphic nature of this fic has made it rather infamous within the MLP fandom.

The air was warm, the sun was shining, and every pony in Ponyville was having a glorious day. The town square was bustling and crowded and busy ponies filled the streets. All the pony folk seemed to have somewhere specific to be. All except Rainbow Dash; her place was in the sky. She tore freely through the air, speeding one way and the next, buzzing the tree tops and racing the wind. The blue pegasus swooped over a schoolyard, much to the delight of the children, then climbed several hundred feet and dove, streaking downward as fast as she could. Seconds before hitting the ground, her wings flew open and she pulled up back into the clear blue. Rainbow felt alive.
Suddenly, Dash remembered that she had somewhere to be; she was supposed to meet with Pinkie Pie in five minutes. Dash had gotten so caught up in her exercises that she’d nearly forgotten that Pinkie had asked to meet her at Sugarcube Corner at three. Pinkie hadn’t said why or what they'd be doing, but Dash knew that with Pinkie, it could be anything. Dash wasn't sure if she really wanted to go, though. She was so engaged with her stunts that she thought about blowing Pinkie off to continue flying. But Dash's conscience got the better of her. She knew that it would hurt Pinkie's feelings; after all, Pinkie had said it was going to be something special just for the two of them. Dash considered it and thought “why not?” What did she have to lose? Heck, it might be more pranking. Pinkie might have found a bunch more fun stuff to pull on folks, and they’d had so much fun the last time. Dash kicked into overdrive to make up for lost time, and sped to her appointment.

When Dash walked into the store, she was immediately greeted by her host, who was bouncing in excitement. “Yay, you’re here! I’ve been waiting aaall day,” said the jumping pony.

“Sorry if I’m a little late, Pinkie. I was doing my afternoon exercises and lost track of time,” Dash apologized.

Pinkie giggled and responded in a gleefully reassuring tone, “Oh that’s ok, you’re here now. What‘s a few more minutes? I’ve been sooo excited thinking about all fun stuff we’re gonna do, I haven’t stopped bouncing since I woke up. I mean, I almost forgot to breathe I’ve been so happy.”

Dash gave a slightly uncomfortable laugh. She had always appreciated Pinkie Pie’s friendly, outgoing way of life, but Pinkie’s overabundant enthusiasm almost creeped her out. Dash maintained a polite expression, however. If Pinkie was this worked up, whatever she had planned must be good.

“So, you ready to get started, Rainbow Dash? I’ve got everything all ready,” the pink pony said.

Dash psyched herself up. “You betcha, Pinkie. So what do ya got planed? We gonna prank somebody? I got a couple of good ones I’ve been thinking about. Or maybe you’ve got some stunts you think I should try? Or perhaps…”

“MAKING CUPCAKES!” Pinkie happily announced.

“Baking?” Dash was disappointed. “Pinkie, you know I’m not good at baking. Remember last time?”

“Oh, that’s not a problem at all. I only need your help making them. I’ll be doing most of the work,” Pinkie explained.

Dash thought for about it for a second. “Well, alright, I guess that’s OK. What exactly do you need me to do?”

“That’s the spirit. Here you go.” Pinkie handed Dash a cupcake.

Dash was puzzled. “I thought I was helping you bake.”

“You will be. I made this one just for you before you got here."

“So, is this like taste-testing or something?”

“Sorta,” Pinkie said.

Dash shrugged and popped the pastry in her mouth. She chewed a bit and swallowed. Not bad.

“OK, now what?” Dash asked.

“Now,” Pinkie informed her, “You take a nap.”

Puzzled, Dash opened her mouth but felt instantly light-headed. A wave of dizziness washed over her, the world spun, and seconds later she collapsed to the floor.

When Dash regained consciousness, she found herself in a dark room. She tried to shake her head but found that a taut leather strap held it firmly in place. She struggled to move, but braces around her chest and limbs glued her to a rack formed from a series of sturdy planks, which spread her legs wide apart. Dash’s wings were the only part of her not tied down, and they fluttered frantically while she struggled to escape. As she writhed, Pinkie jumped suddenly into her line of sight.

“Goodie, you’re awake. Now we can get started,” Pinkie stated gleefully. She bounded into the darkness, and quickly reappeared pushing a small cart covered with a cloth.

“Pinkie, what’s going on? I can’t move!” Dash said urgently.

“Well, duh, that’s because you’re tied down,” chided Pinkie. “That’s why you can’t move. I didn’t think you’d need to be told that.”

“But why? What’s happening? I thought you said I was going to help make cupcakes.”

“You are helping. You see, I ran out of the special ingredient and I need you to get more.”

“Special ingredient?” Dash was now breathing heavily and starting to panic. “What special ingredient?”

Pinkie giggled and responded “You, silly!”

Dash’s eyes widened, and her face contorted in fear. Then she started to laugh and said, in a voice bordering on hysteria, “Woo, you really got me there, Pinkie Pie. I mean, tricking me into thinking I’m gonna get made into a cupcake? I gotta tell you, this the best prank yet. You win, you’re the best.”

Pinkie only giggled even more. “Aw, thanks, Dash. But I haven’t done any pranks today, so I can’t accept your praise.”

Dash was struggling again. “Pinkie, come on, this isn’t funny.”

“Then why were you laughing?” Before Dash could answer, Pinkie grabbed the cloth and whipped it off the cart. On the cart was a tray containing various sharp medical tools and knives, carefully organized and wickedly sharp, as well as a large medical bag.

Dash was now in full panic mode. She was starting to hyperventilate. Her mind raced as she tried to reason with the pink pony. “You can’t do this, Pinkie! I’m your friend!”

“I know you are and that’s why I’m so happy that I’ve got you here. We get to share your last moments together, just you and me.” Pinkie was skipping again.

“But, the other ponies will wonder where I am. When the clouds pile up, they’ll come looking for me and then you’ll get found out,” Dash cried in desperation.

“Oh, Dash,” said Pinkie. “Don‘t worry, there are plenty of pegasus ponies to take care of a few clouds. And besides, no one will find out. I mean, how long do you think I’ve been doing this?” And with that ominous statement, the lights suddenly came to life and revealed the rest the room.

“Oh, no.” Dash reeled in horror at the image presented to her. The room was decorated with a typical but twisted Pinkie Pie flair. Colorful streamers of dried entrails fluttered around on the ceiling, brightly painted skulls of all sizes were attached to the walls, and organs done up in pastels filled with helium were tied to the backs of chairs. The tables and chairs were made of bones and the preserved flesh of past ponies. Dash cringed upon seeing the center piece of the table nearest to her. The heads of four foals, their eyes closed as if they were sleeping, were wearing party hats made from their own skin. With a thrill of terror, Dash recognized one of them as Apple Bloom’s classmate Twist. Dash’s eyes darted back and forth and then fell upon a patchwork banner hanging from the rafters. Made from several tanned pony hides, the words “Life is a party” were scrawled on it in blood red.

Dash’s attention was brought back by a party horn unfurling and tickling her nose. She gaped at Pinkie Pie, who was standing right in front of her. The party pony was wearing a dress quilted from dried skin, emblazoned with cutie marks. On her back fluttered six pegasus wings, all of different colors. As the earth pony skipped in excitement, her necklace of severed unicorn horns clacked together loudly.

“Like it?” Pinkie asked. “I made it myself.”

Desperately, Dash pleaded with the smiling pony before her. “Pinkie please, I’m sorry if I did anything to you. I didn’t mean it. Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anybody.”

“Oh, Dash, you didn’t do anything. It’s just that your number came up and, well, I don’t make rules. We can’t turn back now.”

Dash was tearing up. How could this be happening?

“Aww, don’t be sad, Dash,” said Pinkie. “Look, this’ll cheer you up. I brought you a friend.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, Pinkie produced a brightly painted blue and yellow skull. It was about pony sized, but it had a very defining feature: a beak.

Dash gaped in shock. “Is... is that... is... that?”

“Hey, Dash, let's hang together. These ponies are lame-os. Dweebs dweebs dweebs,” Pinkie mimicked. “I caught her right before she left town. Remember when I left the party for about twenty minutes? That wasn’t enough time to play with her of course; I had to wait till after the party to do that. But boy am I glad I did. It was worth it for the flavor alone. Griffons taste like two animals at once, it’s amazing. I know she didn’t have a number like everyone else in Ponyville, but when was I gonna get another chance to try griffon? I probably should have asked where she came from so I could have gotten more, but I forgot. I’ll tell you what though, she was quite the fighter. She lasted a long time, which was a lot of fun for me. I got the chance to play with somebody other than a pony and try new things. It’s too bad she had such a meanie mouth. She said so much bad stuff I just had to take her tongue out. You know, bad language makes for bad feelings, Rainbow Dash.”

Dash didn’t have anything to say. She just sobbed and writhed in her tight bonds.

“Well” said Pinkie with an air of finality, “that’s enough reminiscing. It’s time to begin.”

Putting down Gilda’s skull, the pink pony gripped a scalpel in the cleft of her hoof and walked over to Dash’s right flank. Without any flair, Pinkie placed the blade an inch above Dash’s cutie mark and began a circular cut around it. Dash shouted in pain and tried desperately to pull away, but the braces held her still. Finishing the incision, Pinkie grabbed a curved skinning knife from the tray. Screwing up her face in concentration, she worked it under Dash’s skin and sliced the hide away from the muscle. Dash ground her teeth as she tearfully watched her flesh peel off. Pinkie then moved to the other side and repeated the process on Dash’s left flank. Once she had finished, Pinkie held up both cutie marks in front of her friend and started waving them like pompoms. Dash just whimpered. Her thighs burned like nothing she had felt before.

Placing the ragged patches of skin down, Pinkie selected a large butcher knife and walked behind the blue pegasus. “Hope you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna wing it now,” Pinkie laughed. She grabbed Dash’s left wing in her mouth and played with it for a few seconds, yanking it back so the sharp pain reignited the fire in Dash’s flanks. Then, stretching the wing out, Pinkie brought the blade down hard at the base. Instantly, Dash screamed and thrashed her appendage. The movement threw off Pinkie’s aim. She tried to hit the mark again but missed, and carved a huge slice into Dash’s back.

“Dash, you gotta stay still or I’ll keep missing,” scolded Pinkie as her friend howled.

Pinkie took another whack and hit her target. She swung again and again. Blood sprayed into the air, but Pinkie realized she wasn’t getting anywhere. The blade just wasn’t going through the bone.

“Hmm, I guess I forgot to sharpen it. I’ll try something else,” stated Pinkie matter-of-factly as she tossed the knife over her shoulder, embedding the blade in the table. Through the haze of pain and tears, Dash heard the sound of a metal box opening and closing.

“Got it! Say Dash, why do they call it a hack saw? It doesn’t hack; hacking is what I was doing with the knife. This is a saw. I don’t get it.”

Pinkie placed the tool over the mangled flesh of the last attempt. Standing on her hind legs, she worked the saw back and forth with her front hooves. It sliced effortlessly through the bone and skin. The feeling of the jagged teeth grinding into her made Dash want to vomit. She watched numbly as her wing flew over her head and landed with a fluff on the table. Pinkie moved to the next wing and started sawing. Dash didn’t struggle this time; she’d given up trying to fight and focused on choking back screams of agony. Abruptly, the sawing paused. Pinkie was only half way done, the wing hanging off by a sliver.

“Hey Dash,” Pinkie piped up. “Think fast!”

Suddenly, Pinkie yanked the wing as hard as she could. The bone snapped but the blue pony’s skin held, then tore away. The pull ripped away a long strip of flesh all the way down Dash’s back to her rump. Her body seized at the unexpected trauma. As her pelvis tensed up, Dash felt a warm release between her legs, and her loud, unending melody of pain filled the room. Unable to catch her breath, she blacked out.

Dash awoke with a gasp. The stench of her urine filled her mucus caked nostrils. As her vision swam into focus, she saw a very pouty Pinkie Pie removing a large adrenaline needle from her chest. Stomping her hooves, the frustrated Pinkie lashed out at her helpless victim.

“Didn’t anybody teach you any manners? It’s very rude to fall asleep when somebody invites you over to spend time with them. How would you like it if I came over to your house and went to sleep? ‘Oh I’m sorry Dash, you’re so boring I think I’ll take a nap.’ You think I like always doing this by myself? I told you how excited I got when I found you were next. I was excited to have a friend be here with me while I worked. But NOOOOO! You’ve got to be inconsiderate. You know, I thought you were tough. I thought you could handle anything. I’ve had foals stand up better than you! Do I have to baby you? Huh? Is that how you want me to remember you, as a baby?”

As Pinkie stopped to catch her breath, Dash blinked and sobbed softly. Her back was in agony, her sides were on fire, and there was an intense pain in one of her legs. As she blinked again, she saw Pinkie pop something red into her mouth and began to chew. Noticing Dash’s stare, Pinkie quickly gulped the morsel down.

“What?” Pinkie asked. “Oh, this?” She held up another piece. “Well, while YOU were asleep, I got a little impatient and helped myself to a small sample. I got it from your leg; you’re not bad. Wanna try some?”

Without waiting for a response, Pinkie shoved the strip of meat into the revolted pegasus pony’s mouth. Dash gagged, and immediately spit it out. Pinkie frowned, and picked up the chunk of flesh. “If you didn’t want it, you could have said no.” She contemplated the discarded snotty morsel, then gulped it up. “It’s not like you haven’t had my cupcakes before.”

Swallowing, Pinkie turned her attention to a small can on the tray. She removed the lid, revealing that it was filled with red-hot coals. Lying on top of the coals were several large nails. As the adrenalin filled her veins, Dash began to panic again. Picking up the can, Pinkie walked over to Dash’s left. Holding some tongs with her mouth, Pinkie carefully picked up a nail and positioned it at the seam between her victim’s front left leg and hoof. She then grabbed a hammer and took careful aim.

“No Pinkie!” Dash screamed. “NO! NO!”

The hammer came down and the nail punctured Dash’s skin. The white hot burning was too much. Dash screamed as she pulled and thrashed at the braces, causing her raw skin to rub and tear. Pinkie tried to line up another nail, but couldn’t find her aim, and let out a frustrated grunt. When Pinkie brought the hammer back to take a wild swing, Dash burst out crying and begging.

“PLEASE STOP! PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. Putting down the hammer and tongs, she walked back in front of her friend and stared pensively at the broken pegasus. Gilda didn’t even cry this much when she had a live parasprite stuffed down her throat. Pinkie thought for a minute about what to do next, then had a sudden spark of inspiration.

Rotating a wheel on the rack, Pinkie laid Dash on her back, then moved to Dash’s hind legs, bringing the can with her. Picking up her tools, Pinkie drove a searing hot spike of metal directly into the bottom of Dash’s hoof. As Dash yelled in pain, Pinkie moved around and drove a second nail into the other hoof. Next, Pinkie went back to her cart and located an enormous battery and controller, which she dragged over to where she was working. She tied copper wires between the terminals and the nails driven into Dash’s hooves, then gave Dash a wink and flipped the switch.

Electricity rocketed through Dash’s body. The blue pony reacted immediately; her body seized, and her muscles snapped taut. Dash’s hips thrust skyward, her eyes rolled back, and she let out a deep, throat shredding cry. Pinkie giggled and danced in place, then reached down and turned up the juice. Dash convulsed uncontrollably, and her bladder emptied once more.

After about five minutes, Pinkie shut off the power. Wisps of steam rose from the singed fur around Dash’s hooves, and the area reeked of cooked flesh and burnt enamel. Pinkie rotated Dash upright again and tried snap the drooling, delirious pony back to attention.

“Dash? Dash! Rainbow Dash, wake up!” Dash moaned and managed to give a modicum of weak acknowledgment. Pinkie studied her handiwork, then reached into the medicine bag and produced a large syringe. “Alright, time for the last round.”

Dash focused blearily on the needle, which Pinkie took as a question as to what it was.

“This is a little something to take the pain away,” Pinkie informed Dash as she walked around to her victim’s ruined back. Dash flinched as Pinkie jabbed the needle into the lower part of the blue pony’s spine. Moving in front of her friend again, Pinkie leaned down and elaborated.

“In a few minutes, you won’t be able to feel anything below your ribcage. Then you’ll be able to stay awake to watch the harvest.”

Dash started to cry again. “Pinkie?” she choked out.

“Yeah?”

“I want to go home,” Dash sobbed.

“Yeah, I can see wanting to do that,” replied the party pony. “Sometimes, I just wanna give up, just say ‘I’m done with this mess’ and go to bed. But you know what? You can’t shrug off your responsibilities. You got to pull yourself up and meet the challenges head on. That’s the only way you’re gonna get ahead in life.”

Dash hung her head and cried.

Minutes passed as the drug took effect. Eventually, Dash was completely numb from her chest to her flanks. At this point, Pinkie approached with a scalpel. Glancing at Dash and smiling, Pinkie made a long horizontal cut across the pegasus pony’s pelvis, just above her crotch. Moving up Dash’s body, Pinkie made a similar incision under her ribs. Finally, Pinkie made a long vertical cut down Dash’s stomach, connecting the first two.

“Looks like I got my ‘I’ on you, Dash,” Pinkie giggled.

With a moist, gooey sound, the flaps of skin opened. The sight of her own organs and the lack of feeling caused Dash’s breathing to intensify. Pinkie carefully sliced open Dash’s abdominal sac and grabbed her large intestines. As she separated the organ from the rest of the digestive tract and pulled it out of the new cavity, Pinkie grew jovial. Laughing as she gutted her friend, Pinkie began to make jokes. Dash, growing weaker from this new source of blood loss, tried desperately to shut out the macabre comedy act.

“Look at me, I’m Rarity!” Pinkie laughed, slinging the intestinal tube around her neck and spraying blood in all directions. “Isn’t my new scarf soooo pretty?”

Reaching back inside, she sliced the smaller intestine off from the bowls. Squeezing out the excess excrement, Pinkie filed the slimy organ through her teeth and dragged it back and forth. “Dentists say you gotta floss every day, Dash.”

Dash was barely aware of what was going on anymore. The shock was causing her to fade. Disappointed, Pinkie dived back into the blue pony’s guts, ramping up her routine.

“Aw, don’t go yet Dash.” Pinkie started pulling out the rest of Dash’s organs, pausing with each removal. “I know I can be a real pancreas, but you know I’m just kidney with you. You really got to learn to liver it up. Boy, these jokes are getting bladder. Guess ya gotta develop a stomach for them.”

Pinkie placed the discarded body parts into a bucket, keeping the last one for bit longer. “Ooo, bagpipes.” she said, placing the end of Dash’s esophagus in her mouth and the stomach in her armpit. She squeezed, and a spurt of acid hit her tongue. “Eww! Oh hey look, there’s your cupcake, Dash!”

Dash didn’t hear her tormentor. She had slipped from conciseness minutes ago. Pinkie, not yet satisfied, hit Dash with another adrenaline shot. Dash woke up for the last time, her heart pounding. Warm blood flowed out from the wound in her chest in great spurts. It wouldn’t be long now.

Pinkie brought Dash around onto her back again and straddled the blue pony’s chest, scalpel at the ready.

“Ya know, Rainbow Dash, I’m disappointed. I thought you would have lasted longer. I really wanted to spend more time with you before we got here. But I guess it’s my fault; I should have taken it a little slower. Oh well. It was really was nice knowing you, Dash!”

The blade sunk into the blue throat and worked its way up to Dash’s chin. Coming back down, Pinkie’s scalpel then circled Dash’s neck. The last thing Rainbow Dash felt was her skin being cut away from her skull, and the metal of the blade scraping her teeth.

Then she was gone.

Pinkie Pie stared into the mirror. She had done a really good job, even keeping the eyelids. She winked, and Dash winked back. Pinkie smiled.

But still, she was sad that her friend was now gone. Dash had only lasted fifty minutes, not nearly as long as Pinkie had wanted. She looked back at the cadaver hanging in the center of the room, the last of her friend’s fluids draining into a pan. Yup, no more Rainbow Dash.

As she looked, Pinkie cocked her head. She began to take notice of the fact that there really wasn’t much damage to the corpse. “In fact,” the pink pony mused, “I think….” An idea exploded in her head. She was good at sewing and she had all the pieces, all she had to do was put them back together. Yeah, she just had to get some stuffing and bingo, she’d have Rainbow Dash forever. In fact, thought Pinkie, that’s what she’d do for all her best friends when their numbers came up. She was so excited, she skipped right over to the body with her skinner to get started. The cupcakes could wait; Pinkie Pie had a friend to make.

quote:

Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 18:26 schreef summer2bird het volgende:
Russian sleep experiment:

SPOILER

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn’t kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.

The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.

After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself…

After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it… or rather didn’t react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After 3 more days passed, the researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: “We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom.”

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: “We no longer want to be freed.”

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in ‘life.’

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject’s thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four ‘surviving’ test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep…

To everyone’s surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject’s teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word “MORE” over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake…

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. “Keep cutting.”

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: “I must remain awake.”

All three subject’s restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military ‘benefactors’ for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone’s surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. “I won’t be locked in here with these things! Not with you!” he screamed at the man strapped to the table. “WHAT ARE YOU?” he demanded. “I must know!”

The subject smiled.

“Have you forgotten so easily?” The subject asked. “We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread.”

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject’s heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, “So… nearly… free…”

quote:

Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 19:03 schreef LookAtMe het volgende:
Deze is ook nice:
[ afbeelding ]

quote:

Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 18:26 schreef summer2bird het volgende:
Russian sleep experiment:

SPOILER

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn’t kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.

The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.

After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself…

After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it… or rather didn’t react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After 3 more days passed, the researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: “We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom.”

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: “We no longer want to be freed.”

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in ‘life.’

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject’s thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four ‘surviving’ test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep…

To everyone’s surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject’s teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word “MORE” over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake…

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. “Keep cutting.”

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: “I must remain awake.”

All three subject’s restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military ‘benefactors’ for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone’s surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. “I won’t be locked in here with these things! Not with you!” he screamed at the man strapped to the table. “WHAT ARE YOU?” he demanded. “I must know!”

The subject smiled.

“Have you forgotten so easily?” The subject asked. “We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread.”

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject’s heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, “So… nearly… free…”

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Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 19:06 schreef HAL9000S het volgende:
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Deze is echt vreselijk eng:

http://comic.naver.com/we(...)217&no=31&weekday=tu

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Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 19:10 schreef LookAtMe het volgende:

[..]

Die tekst heb ik al gepost. Weet je misschien van welke film die eerste is?

Mama

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Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 19:03 schreef LookAtMe het volgende:
Deze is ook nice:
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Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 19:38 schreef HAL9000S het volgende:
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Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 20:54 schreef summer2bird het volgende:

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Wasda?

SPOILER

http://jkcinema.com/gamesmov.asp?type=5

Urban Legends: Fact or Fiction?

SPOILER

Let me start at the beginning. It was a stormy night and I was with my friend. We hadn't seen each other in a while and wanted to catch up. So we decided to get my N64 console and he will get some games from around town. He said he knew a place.
Added by Cheese Lord
I responded that as long as its a legal copy it will do. When I saw him he was carrying six shoe boxes full of N64 games. I asked how many games he got and he responded he brought all the ones at the garage sale. I opened one of the boxes to find that they where all completely black with one circle of ductape around it displaying the name. I opened another box and saw the same thing. I asked him what the heck was this all about. He said that the guy said that the original cartridges where damaged so he made new ones. He must have been handy I thought to myself. I decided to chuck one game in the system and grabbed a controller.
It's title was The Legend Of Zelda 64. Knowing that there was no game with that title I presumed it was Ocarina Of Time or Majoras Mask. I waited till' my friend was ready and I turned it on. I heard nothing but static and saw some hard to make out pictures of what appeared to be link. The game flashed on pretty normally. No Nintendo thing came on. I was a little worried about what this game was. It had only one profile space. So i named it Link like I always did. I saw an odd opening.

It was kid Link running from something. An evil looking face popped up on the screen for half a second. I wondered what it meant. We were scared to shitballs by then. Suddenly Link was engulfed by a giant fireball and he screamed. The scream that still haunts my memories. The game opened in some kind of forest with bridges connecting the trees. I realized this was probably Kokiri Forest. But it looked so different. Link was sleeping in his bed when he awoke with a startle.

You could here screams outside now. We went outside his house and the screen went blurry. Then Sria was impaled by a sword. We made Link go over to her. Guess what he did. He pulled the sword out like nothing happened. Blood squirted up from her corpse. I realized this wasn't the regular Link for when we went to the items menu the description for the sword said. "The blood on it taste fresh and delicious. Me friend and I where startled at that. There was still something to do with the corpse then.

I lured myself to press A and he bent down and you heard a gnawing noise along with blood splattering. Link came back up with his face covered in blood. My friend ran to puke in the sink. I foolishly kept going. I saw Mido holding the shield and I grabbed it off of him. I also noticed another option for him. It was decapitate. So i did it and Link bent down and cut off Midos head. Not only this but when you did it you heard evil laughs from Link. I left the forest and noticed next area had a bunch of people with black bloodstained robes on.

They attacked Link and destroyed him being extremely powerful it only took them 1 hit. To finish him. I selected Midos head and when I did they bowed down to me like I was their god. One of them spoke introducing them as the death bringers As they did this my screen look as though it was melting. And then it came up with a hit list. A list of Zelda characters to kill. There where only two to start off with. One was that annoying owl and the other was Malon. I chose the annoying owl and then the game froze on me and it started playing a tune backwards while the screen went all negative colours I couldn't stand it anymore, I ripped out the game cartridge and ran into the kitchen to get my friend who was still vomiting. I told him we need to go see that man. He agreed. I put the game back into the box and went to his car. He drove there and then I saw a sign saying for sale. I asked what had happened he said that he didn't know and that it was fine yesterday. I asked the neigbour and he said he had moved away suddenly without a reason. I looked a the games and noticed that he must have stayed only to get those games away from him. When my friend bought them he automatically left town.

It was only then I noticed the note on one of the boxes reading. "Thank you for getting rid of these games. Play them at your own risk. They are cursed. Never buy an unofficial game." So i guess it goes to show you that you should always check for the proof that what you are buying is legit. Unfortunately its too late for me because being a Zelda fan that game is haunting my memories

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Op dinsdag 17 juli 2012 18:30 schreef 2Happy4U het volgende:

SPOILER: Pokémon: Black

Pokémon Black
I’m what you could call a collector of bootleg Pokémon games. Pokémon Diamond & Jade, Chaos Black, etc. It’s amazing the frequency with which you can find them at pawnshops, Goodwill, flea markets, and such.
They’re generally fun; even if they are unplayable (which they often are), the mistranslations and poor quality make them unintentionally humorous.
I’ve been able to find most of the ones that I’ve played online, but there’s one that I haven’t seen any mention of. I bought it at a flea market about five years ago.

Here’s a picture of the cartridge, in case anyone recognizes it. Unfortunately, when I moved two years ago, I lost the game, so I can’t provide you with screencaps. Sorry.
The game started with the familiar Nidorino and Gengar intro of Red and Blue version. However, the “press start” screen had been altered. Red was there, but the Pokémon did not cycle through. It also said “Black Version” under the Pokémon logo.
Upon selecting “New Game”, the game started the Professor Oak speech, and it quickly became evident that the game was essentially Pokémon Red Version.
After selecting your starter, if you looked at your Pokémon, you had in addition to Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle another Pokémon — “GHOST”.
The Pokémon was level 1. It had the sprite of the Ghosts that are encountered in Lavender Tower before obtaining the Sliph Scope. It had one attack — “Curse”. I know that there is a real move named curse, but the attack did not exist in Generation 1, so it appears it was hacked in.
Defending Pokémon were unable to attack Ghost — it would only say they were too scared to move. When the move “Curse” was used in battle, the screen would cut to black. The cry of the defending Pokémon would be heard, but it was distorted, played at a much lower pitch than normal. The battle screen would then reappear, and the defending Pokémon would be gone. If used in a battle against a trainer, when the Pokéballs representing their Pokemon would appear in the corner, they would have one fewer Pokéball.
The implication was that the Pokémon died.
What’s even stranger is that after defeating a trainer and seeing “Red received $200 for winning!”, the battle commands would appear again. If you selected “Run”, the battle would end as it normally does. You could also select Curse. If you did, upon returning to the overworld, the trainer’s sprite would be gone. After leaving and reentering the area, the spot [where] the trainer had been would be replaced with a tombstone like the ones at Lavender Tower.
The move “Curse” was not usable in all instances. It would fail against Ghost Pokémon. It would also fail if it was used against trainers that you would have to face again, such as your Rival or Giovanni. It was usable in your final battle against them, however.
I figured this was the gimmick of the game, allowing you to use the previously uncapturable Ghosts. And because Curse made the game so easy, I essentially used it throughout the whole adventure.
The game changed quite a bit after defeating the Elite Four. After viewing the Hall of Fame, which consisted of Ghost and a couple of very under leveled Pokémon, the screen cut to black. A box appeared with the words “Many years later…” It then cut to Lavender Tower. An old man was standing, looking at tombstones. You then realized this man was your character.
The man moved at only half of your normal walking speed. You no longer had any Pokémon with you, not even Ghost, who up to this point had been impossible to remove from your party through depositing in the PC. The overworld was entirely empty — there were no people at all. There were still the tombstones of the trainers that you used Curse on, however.
You could go pretty much anywhere in the overworld at this point, though your movement was limited by the fact that you had no Pokémon to use HMs. And regardless of where you went, the music of Lavender Town continued on an infinite loop. After wandering for a while, I found that if you go through Diglett’s Cave, one of the cuttable bushes that normally blocks the path on the other side is no longer there, allowing you to advance and return to Pallet Town.
Upon entering your house and going to the exact tile where you start the game, the screen would cut to black.
Then a sprite of a Caterpie appeared. It was the replaced by a Weedle, and then a Pidgey. I soon realized, as the Pokémon progressed from Rattata to Blastoise, that these were all of the Pokémon that I had used Curse on.
After the end of my Rival’s team, a Youngster appeared, and then a Bug Catcher. These were the trainers I had Cursed.
Throughout the sequence, the Lavender Town music was playing, but it was slowly decreasing in pitch. By the time your Rival appeared on screen, it was little more than a demonic rumble.
Another cut to black. A few moments later, the battle screen suddenly appeared — your trainer sprite was now that of an old man, the same one as the one who teaches you how to catch Pokémon in Viridian City.
Ghost appeared on the other side, along with the words “GHOST wants to fight!”.
You couldn’t use items, and you had no Pokémon. If you tried to run, you couldn’t escape. The only option was “FIGHT”.
Using fight would immediately cause you to use Struggle, which didn’t affect Ghost but did chip off a bit of your own HP. When it was Ghost’s turn to attack, it would simply say “…” Eventually, when your HP reached a critical point, Ghost would finally use Curse.
The screen cut to black a final time.
Regardless of the buttons you pressed, you were permanently stuck in this black screen. At this point, the only thing you could do was turn the Game Boy off. When you played again, “NEW GAME” was the only option — the game had erased the file.
I played through this hacked game many, many times, and every time the game ended with this sequence. Several times I didn’t use Ghost at all, though he was impossible to remove from the party. In these cases, it did not show any Pokémon or trainers and simply cut to the climactic “battle with Ghost.
I’m not sure what the motives were behind the creator of this hack. It wasn’t widely distributed, so it was presumably not for monetary gain. It was very well done for a bootleg.
It seems he was trying to convey a message; though it seems I am the sole receiver of this message. I’m not entirely sure what it was — the inevitability of death? The pointlessness of it? Perhaps he was simply trying to morbidly inject death and darkness into a children’s game. Regardless, this children’s game has made me think, and it has made me cry.

Creepypasta