Dogscape | CreepCast

*music* Welcome back to Creepcast. Today we are diving into a nice body horror world of "Dogscape" which is funny because right before this we were looking at "Dogscape" and there is apparently a "Doggy Daycare" called "Dogscape" and this story is tagged with a "Not Say For Work" content warning. So I would recommend changing your LLC immediately. Isaiah, give us a little rundown of "Dogscape". So "Dogscape" was a story that has been around a while. I remember people talking about it back during the Creepie Pasta heyday. If I recall right, or from what I can find, it seems to be a collaborative effort that was started on 4chan. So I think some people like someone posted the prompt and other people started to build off of it. So it's like a group of anonymous users. The Creepie Pasta website says that it was created by users from 4chan and something awful. So it just seems like it was a group project of sorts. The story itself is broken into multiple logs. Maybe different people wrote different logs or gave like critiques about what should be in it or whatnot. But it's like an anonymous collaborative writing project. I remember people talking about this one a lot. I remember a lot of people considering it one of the better ones. But historically on this podcast, that goes both ways. Every time they write, sometimes they're very wrong. That's true. That is very true. Well, without further ado, why don't we step into the insane world of "Dogscape". And like I said, not safe work tag, trigger warning. Oh no, it's going into the future. But warning. Danger ahead. Another thing on the show that historically has been not great. People get really mad at it. Warning to weary travelers. Bumpy road ahead, right? I feel, I don't know about that phrasing on it. Thank you to everyone supporting us on Spotify and Apple Podcast. It means a lot for you to give us a rating. We'd greatly appreciate it. And of course, thank you to our lovely, lovely patrons who we love so much, who allow us to do stupid things like this podcast and other weird tangents and projects. You guys are the best. We have a short, exclusive, for Patreon story going up there shortly. So stay tuned for that. Actually, I have no idea when this video's coming out. So it may already be out by now. Who knows, I'm stupid. But. No. I think that's everything. I've shut up. I think that's everything, right? Yep. So let's, hey, let's walk down the bumpy road that is "Dogscape". Starting with you. Starting with you, I don't like that you started calling it bumpy when you found out there's a not say for work tag. The ripple, the sticky and probably wet world of dog scape. Oh gosh. When it gets. I don't, I don't think, I don't think there's actual dogs in the story. I don't think there is no dog scape. I'm going to be fucking livid. Well, I think it's like the essence of dogs, but I don't think there is a dog. I may be wrong. Well, the essence of dog. What does that mean? There's like pieces of them. There's like the. That's enough dog for me. If I say snout. Yeah. A little dog snout, a boop of snoot. Yeah. Exactly. It's like a dog's face embedded into a tree. And I'm like, "Oh, cute little puppy." And I just boop of snoot. He says, "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah." And then it'll be nice. Log one. I awaken. I don't know it at the moment. But this day marks my fourth straight year of existing in the dog's cape. I push myself up from the carpet of writhing, twitching dog flesh beneath me and rise to my feet, stretching in the morning sun. Took me a while to learn to balance on the layer of solid dogs that now blankets every inch of solid ground. But nowadays, I can walk and run as easily and as fast as I ever did on soil or concrete. Perhaps faster. When dog flesh, this was by dog flesh, does it mean like a world of just dog skin? Or is it just a bunch of dogs fused together and you're constantly walking on dog? I think we get more details later, but in my mind, it's like, is it dull? The painter who had all the depictions of like weird hellscapes, it wasn't dull. Who was the guy that had the paintings of like these empty landscapes with like, he did the black portraits where it was like. There was like these heavy black images in the midst of it. Do you know who I'm talking about? No, not really. I would have said goose dog. Yeah, goose stuffed all whatever. Well, this is important. It'll be good for the visual. Hold on. No, Bikinski. Bikinski. Yeah, Bikinski. It's him. Bikinski. So the way those paintings looks where it's like these weird, empty landscapes and stuff like that, I imagine that, but it's dog skin. Okay. That's how it looks in my mind, like these kind of nothing, empty horizons, you know, that's how it looks in my head. That was definitely worse the time it took to find that 100%. This was a city once, I think, the which one I can't remember. I only owe my guests to the massive pillars of dogs jutting into the sky. Perhaps ancient buildings now completely filled and overgrown by canine biomatter. I climbed one once, syncing my fingers and toes deep into the dog while they came purchased. And after hours and hours of climbing, I was rewarded with an incredible vista. Fur and eyes, panting tongues and wagging tails, hugging the contours of the once barren land and stretching in a single amoebic mass farther than the eye can see. So yeah, it's like one giant blob fusion of dogs. It seems like makes up the entire landscape. Now I don't do that though. Now I merely go about my day. I hike to the gardens where the dog plants sprout up in bizarre shapes from the floor of the dog's cape and reach up to pluck the fetal puppy fruits right off the wagging energetic branches. I bite into the succulent flesh, the juice is dribbling down my chin and dripping down to be reabsorbed by the ground flesh and a revel in the savory taste. I'm thirsty, so I range until I find one of the mother hounds. There I suckle at the teeth patch until I've had my fill of milk. Sometimes I see other humans around me as well adapted to the dog's cape as I am, but I barely acknowledge them, say nothing. What, after all, is there to say? The world is different now. What meaning would our old words have? Ranging dogs are becoming rare and rare to see now, and those I do see seem as lost as passive as I am. They too graze on the dog plants, step carefully over the angelating, bleeding dog floor, dimly acknowledge myself and one another. In the distant sky and on the far horizon, I sometimes see massive forms, sail or crawler, angelate, and I wonder if in this new world, normal singular ambulatory dogs have become as obsolete as I am into vlog one. That's, well, that's a lot. It's insane to think that there's just like giant nipples everywhere that you're supposed to crawl up to. That's how you stay fed. You're like walking down. There's also two. It's not even like you're alone. It's like there's other people, but it's like, what the fuck? Like what's the point of even talking to each other? It talks about dog plants coming up, and they pluck the fetal puppy fruits, which I imagine are like either the moles, malformed blobs of newly born dog flesh, or it's like wrongly grown flesh. So you have to eat the flesh and drink the milk to live. That's rough. That's a very rough start to. I like how also it's like, it doesn't even tell us like, well, here's how I got here. It's just like, well, this is just the world war and this is the dog scape. This is a dog scape. It's what it looks like. I will say that it is a very brutal world from the get go. It's very creative in its brutality, right? Like all the little details of how they have to survive. And people don't even really care to interact with each other anymore. Yeah. Log 2. I dug down once, down beneath the dogs, beneath the hair and the ears and the barking. It was hard and took a lot of planning. I had to destroy one of the dog trees with my hands, rip out the twisted yards long communal spines that serve them as branches and lash them together with tendons and skin. But soon I had tools, pitchfork, spears, shovels, picked a spot where the dog floor seemed shallower, set to work. The blood started spurting when my spear first broke the surface and it didn't stop for hours and hours and hours. I was drenched in gourd and viscera, covered in flecks of bone and meat and brain, and I learned to ignore the sickening squelching sounds. Worn off the smell, just keep going deeper and deeper, spearing and levering out dogs of stranger and stranger size and build. Dogs with two heads, dogs with human hands, dogs with writhing tentacles where their back legs should be. Eventually I came to the end of the dogs, perhaps the beginning of whatever lies beyond the dogs. An expanse of multicolored patchwork fur that extended as far as I could dig in any direction. I could perceive it with great difficulty, but it barely bled. Tries I might. I could only barely peel the skin away, revealing a layer of striated, grayish muscle beneath. It started to tremble as I watched it, shaking the very dog matter around me. And I realized that the dog's escape was beginning to regenerate itself, loosing over me, sealing me in. So I fled, climbing back up into the light. And to vlog two, that's like, this, so this reminds, there's a lot of stories to read where it's like humans are made into flesh stuff, you know, like you see insides of like hives of creatures or caves or alien planets where it's like human flesh or it's very like the alien hives from the movie aliens, you know, like the xenomorphs make like the walls and like the slime everywhere that's like themself. It's like those settings, but dog. Yeah. I think the reason that it is a dog is a, it adds to that surrealist kind of fucking nightmare. It's weird. It's like if it was humans, you would be, there's just something so abnormal about choosing a dog for this landscape. You know, I mean, you think it's just because dogs are so innocent or like dogs are like you know, I think it's because everyone likes dogs, you know, and it's like, well, nothing bad would happen to them, you know, but now it's like, what if that thing was the form that some cosmic being or like some presence we couldn't understand? What if that was the form it used to lay a flesh curtain over the earth, you know? Yeah. And like all the bi, it's like a sick game like, oh, you can survive, but you have to use the biology of the dog to do so in a gross way, which saying that out loud, I'm now worried about where the not safe for work tech comes in, but we'll see. I wonder because I thought it was really interesting too that if you pierce the ground, Karen reminds me, or just it's interesting that it's like you stab the ground and just bleeds and it'll continue bleeding. And then you get to the grayish muscle matter. And then you can notice and then you notice that like the tendons and stuff are starting to grow back. It's just like a mortal ever healing just like like billions of dogs kind of put together, amassed together in a weird, like ocean. Yeah. Did you do? Are you familiar with the same called mystery flesh pit national park? Yeah. You've like really have to be way early at the beginning of this podcast. You like, you even had some merch from it and stuff. I'm pretty sure. Yeah. I had some merch from it. And I made a video about it way back on the channel. But the whole idea is that there's this national park that's an open wound on this giant creature that's like the size of Texas that's underground. That's cool. So they've made like the stomach acids and the lysosomes and like it's cis and stuff like that into these attractions. You can go through and visit. This feels like a world like that where there's some huge entity underneath. And we just see the presence of like that. We just see the footnotes of the side effects. And it just so happens to look like dogs just seems like dogs or choose the form of a dog. Also reminded me of that. Let's not forget especially the part about digging down. Also, this is also like, don't forget that this is also tons of random people coming together to add to this fucking monstrosity. So whoever adding this, your psychopaths. There you go. Yeah, yeah. Right, right. That's what we call you for being more creative than us psychopaths. Sure. Log three. Stream trickled warmly past the black leathery edges of the puppy mouth stream saliva waters churned as they flowed from the bed of the stream lined with the ever lapping tongues of eager greeting puppies to feel a rock on the shores to find sharp milk teeth of ween dogs cast the tuffs of mange weeds growing into spits and banks. The head of the stream is split by a single mound of golden fur like an impulsored boulder set with a large golden eye that swerves to see passing visitors. The waters will bubble and froth should the ICU, the tongues lap nervous, loving greetings with gurgled yips into vlog three. It's almost like it's almost like the perspective of a flea. You know, yeah, like a super tiny thing walk because it describes like the matted hair or like the toughs of mange weeds growing into spits and banks. And so all the subscribers like this, this slobber coming out of a dog's mouth, but it's like running streams. It's very, it's gross. It's like man found his way into dog hell. Like when dogs go to hell, this is what it's like. This is dog hell. You know, dogs are like, wow, it's just more for me. That's so cool. But what does the dog have to do to go to dog hell? I think I think dogs go to dog hell if they eat the wrong thing. Like if dog gets into like a big dark Gary Delay chocolate bar, you go to dog hell. They go to hell for that. You'd have to imagine that. Don't eat chocolate. I think they have commandments now. I think so because they have such a stringent diet, right? Like, I don't think dogs can eat garlic. There's a lot of things dogs can eat. I don't think dogs. Yeah. Well, hold on. So they're eating for big. That's for their health. Yeah. But that's okay. Okay. Well, I see that a little. I see it now. You say that way. I see what you're saying a little bit. But dogs. So the sayings all dogs go to heaven. So they have to automatically go to heaven. They have to commit an act to do something wrong to go to hell, right? So like is eating something that hurts you wrong, like a moral way, you know, I think I think what's poisonous. I think if somebody drinks it out, this is controversial thing to say. I think of a human drink chlorox bleach until they died, I would say that person's going to hell. And maybe and that's that's I'm going to also not say for work tag. So people can't be offended by that. You have been warned. So, so, so you, you hunter handcock are making your official statement that if you, if you purposefully take your own life, no, no, no, no, wrong. Okay. I'm saying in the context of a dog having stringent diet rules that if a person knowingly is like, oh, I really just bleach seems tasty. Doing that. Okay. So let me, let me change. So you hunter handcock are saying that if someone takes their own life by knowingly taking by drinking bleach, they go to hell. I'm going to say I, I will have to confidently say yes. All right. All in the record. So if you take your own life and by ingesting something or do you have a bunch of batteries, be it a bunch of batteries because I'm pretty sure that would count as ingesting something that would kill you. I think so. Yeah. Okay. But any other form and I'll be completely honest. This is a thought that I've had for 30 seconds. So it is not very well thought out. But I'm just trying to find rules of what why dogs go to hell. All right. Because I know a lot of people are going to say dogs can't do anything wrong. They're beautiful little peppers. Right. And I agree. But there has to be rules. Dog rules. Why didn't you put something that's actually like a bad thing like biting kids or, you know, but chasing the male man or something like that. Because to me, I'm like, that's just, that's just dogs way a bad moral act. That's the dogs way. So that's the dogs way. But eating garlic is punishable by health. Absolutely. Because dogs like to eat all kinds of stuff, they eat shit. That doesn't kill them to eat everything. And it's just like, you can eat anything you want. Puked. You can drink your own piss. You can eat shit. You can eat whatever you want. You just can't eat these things. Do you know what I mean? It's like, there's a lot of freedom. But they're just like dog god dog, the god is a, he says, he says, no, he says no grapes. Rough, rough. Everyone's like, okay, fine. No dark chocolate, bark. And like no garlic pressure. The also the list of things. Dogs. It's pretty extensive. Things. Dogs. And freeze that ones on there. Grape chocolate, macadamia nuts. See how random is that? No, no macadamia nuts. Avocado's dogs can't eat. Avocados yeast dough, onions can have onion chives. That's his ironic bones. That can't be dairy products. Garlic raw eggs, salt, citrus nuts, onions, cherries. I mean, like, what exactly? I mean, nothing, if anything, they're already fucking demons. Anyways, don't eat anything on earth. The compounded. Right. The compounded. It's like dry nuggets that we pour into your bowl. That's all you can have. So if you're, if you're, if your series correct, then most dogs, if, because most dogs will have a little bit of that of their life and not die. So most dogs are going to hell as far as you think. I, I think Disney did a disservice by saying all dogs go to heaven. I don't necessarily know. Also now that we've gone to the public press of this conversation. It's under handcuffs. Go ahead. From sources across the web. I see all these, these lists, right? Not once, Isaiah. Not once is bleach on here. Well, I feel like that's like saying don't ingest razor blades or a bomb. Well, what if every dog, it does that thing like in a cartoon where they eat it? They're, they're belly gougedly big for a second. It goes back down. I mean, then I guess it'd be okay. But then according to you, they would go to hell when they don't. Can dogs drink bleach? I think that's about. I think I can't. I'm joking. Cut that. Can. No. Can dogs drink? I don't like to call her. Can dogs. No bleach. They will get poisoned by bleach. Guys, editor note, put in dog. Do not give your dogs bleach. Thank god. I read this before. Also, also, editor, put in an editor note that says Hunter Hancock's official statement. If a dog ever ingest anything he's not supposed to, or if you as a human in You're going to help you knowingly or otherwise you go to hell. Well, yeah, I think that we found today's theme. I think it's going to be just finding out what exactly makes you go to hell and I'm going to have to be the voice of those and I'm sorry. Okay. We'll always keep you going to hell then. I'm even going to say it now. I'm going to say that if humans, you have the same kind of every time a human eats a grape, they're going to hell as I'm going to say every time you eat something that's poisonous to a dog, you're going to hell. That's only fair. So most humans are going to hell. You know what? Honestly, I would say really all of them actually, I would say all of them actually. If it's really heaven, Isaiah, I would assume not a lot of people. This is not busy. I mean, you got it, you got it, you got to give me that one. Right. I don't, I don't actually have to give you anything. You got it for the sake of, for the sake of the bed, I'll entertain your theory that heaven is empty because anyone that's eight and onion, that's the biggest irony of all. Why'd you put it down there? Why'd you eat it? Just because it's there. Does mean I've eaten it. You didn't have anything. Did that say two words in heaven? Isaiah, two words, elbow room, and that's what makes it heaven. Oh, so there's like seven people up there. I would at least say a baker's dozen. It's entirely like babies that like died young, too young to eat onions. And I'm not going to, I'm not going to touch anything. I'm not going to be a verdict on that. I will only be a verdict on that. Oh, now you're not going to touch the controversial logic. I'm not trying to say anything controversial. Hmm. Right. Log four? Log four, I think. The dog's cape. That's what we call it. We sit around campfires and cook the welps we collect from the dog trees. The only flammable material we have is the accurate fur that grows everywhere. It depends all senses, but soon the meal is prepared. The only food sources are the dog trees and the mother-mounds. Some foolish enough dick for meat. Though the reward is great, many don't come back. For the dog flesh regrows above them, trapping them inside the moist ground. Primitive tools are forged from bones and leather, such as shovels and knives and clothes. I've lived here for as long as I can remember. There are faint shimmers of the time before the dog flesh, but what use is there dwelling on the past when they cannot fill our stomachs in the present? I'm our tribe's tribe. My name is Doc. I used to have a real name, but it escapes my memory. I record all of our findings and knowledge in my leather pages using dog blood as ink. There were times when there were more of us. The tribe started with as many as 60 people. Now our numbers are as few as 20. Our leader is Keith. He instructs us to find blood, build shelter and bring fire. He abuses his power, taking five wives and eating more than his share of the food, but those who speak against him meet death in the night. It is hellish, but there's no other choice. Without guidance, we will die out here, so he must remain under his leadership. I like that deal of like I had a name, but I've forgot it. There's too many dogs to remember what my name was. There's so many dogs that I am just called spot. No, I tell you what, this is hell. Imagine the only meals you get are dog meat, dog titty milk, and then like polyamorous couples all around you, just like becoming engorged from the dog meat. What is this Portland? Yeah, got him. Portland just becomes like a massive flesh and fur, and it's like, what is this Portland? They changed the scenery around here again. What is all Jagan to play down the road later? That's right. The tribe is like a court gesture. He's just walking around all the time like, what is this Portland? No one knows what Portland does. The tribe leader has taken five wives, so the rest of them are just like, well, I guess I'll just sit around here, sip on titty milk and fucking paws until we have to get up tomorrow and do it all over again. Why don't you, they just kill themselves? Well, because there's no onions bleacher. That's right. That's right. That's right. That's true. They can't go to hell. So. They're already there. If you find a big dog mouth, you could just put an onion in it, and then that would save the world right? You have to imagine dogscape. There are no avocados, grapes. No. Oh, that would make sense. 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I'm lucky that Keith cannot read, for if he had seen my statements about him, I would be dead. Yesterday, one of our tribe members, a cot, was killed by accidentally stepping into one of the open dog mouths. His screams of pain as it chewed forced me to crush his skull with a shovel, killing him instantly. The bastard, Keith, claimed Cot's food ration as his own. I can sense the others are beginning to tire of Keith's position of power as well. Nobody spoke a word at that night's feast. Well, not sleep well the night, hearing Cot's screams in my nightmares. Was this saying he fell into a mouth that was big enough to catch a person like a torso inside of, and his top half was sticking out? Yeah. Because I imagine if you fall into a giant dog head, they can't get you. Yeah. Also, it seems like you just suffocate. That's kind of what the men think whenever they're like, you can dig deeper, but it will regrow. And I think you just like probably just suffocate and die. Yeah, you're just stuck down there, or like in Keith's case here, or Cot's case here, it seems like he fell into like a sore like pit looking mouth thing and started chewing him up. I fear for my life. Beck was killed in front of a saw by Keith today. He refused to continue digging for me. So the monster beat him to death with his bare hands, a sign that he would not tolerate a refusal to work. I cannot stand for this much longer. Beck was not even an adult. He could not have been more than 17 human years. Springs are numbers down to 18. There's Keith, his five wives, me, the remaining 11 diggers and gatherers. The others whispered to me in secret that I should be the leader instead. I guess they think I have all the answers because I'm described only time we'll tell. I was awoken at the crack of dawn by one of the diggers, cars specifically. He told me that tonight would be the night. The others had a plan. They want me to announce that I am the new leader during the feast. When he is distracted with rage, they intend to kill him from behind. I tell Gar that I accept his plan and I will assist him tonight. What if I got him myself into? Damn them all. I told Keith I planned to replace him. He arose filled with rage. I waited for the blow to strike him. Never hit Keith. Instead it hit me. Gar was Keith's spy all along. They dragged me far away from the gardens and tied me to a barren dog tree. He said that a quick death would not be fit me, and I would waste away under the deathly sun. I can just barely reach my journal from here. I suppose this is the end of me. When the sun was highest in the sky, the heat became unbearable. I saw figures on the horizon. They were not human. They were the hounds that come to eat what the humans leave behind. I thought they were going to eat me. Instead, they went for the blood-soaked meat ropes that held me in place. I was free. I kneeled down to the hounds and looked deep in their eyes. I told them I knew where they could fill their bellies to the brim. They barked once in what I assume was confirmation. I stood up and we set off to feast. When we reached the settlement, it was amidst their feast. I approached death in my gaze. Keith was shocked and angry. The diggers and gatherers were quick to his defense. I guess he bribed them. I whistled and the hounds slink through the fur to my side. We struck like a lightning bolt. My fists mashed at a Keith's face just as my hounds pounced upon his closest guards. Though I was physically weak, I was quite fast. I stole his shovel and quickly buried it at a Keith's bloat while he was disoriented. The smell was sickening, as I expected from a man like him. The hounds made quick work of the rest. I helped, of course. None were spared. I made sure I had my vengeance upon Gar. The hounds were quite full by the end. I took my time and buried each corpse, or what was left of them. I leave this book upon their graves in the hopes that someone who can understand it finds it. If you do take key to these words, dog scape knows all and is strict but fair. She provides justice where justice is due. End of log four. This is, yeah, that was log four. So it seems that each log is from a different point of view, right? And I like the vignettes that some people don't interact with people at all. Some are in these weird like caveman-esque tribes where it's killer be killed. The dog scape almost has like, he almost has a conversation with it where they both understand what the other one wants. It's fascinating how, again, it's collaborative, so different people have different perspectives, but it's fascinating how much can be done with like a barren wasteland made of dogs, right? Yeah. Well, I think so far log four is my favorite. I think that the, I think that dog scape is very interesting as a post-apocalyptic setting. Like, even if we never figured out what it's from, I like this environment that's like extremely hostile and kind of silly. Yeah. But I like the idea of like weird tribes, power dynamic type stuff that's starting to form. And then you get these little glimpses and these little vignettes of people that are existing in the support post-apocalyptic landscape. I think like that's a lot of fun. Yeah. Yeah. It's, it's very absurdist, but it does something it's connected enough or like close enough that you can still feel grossed out by stuff like meat ropes or digging down to flesh and stuff where it's still relatable enough to be gross, but everywhere else it's totally absurdist. So it's cool that it does that. It still manages to draw a connection despite how strange the world is. Log five. I had a dog right after the dog scape happened. His name was Carl and he always followed me around. When I was almost dead from starvation, he got me dogfords. When I was dying of thirst, he yelled milk in his mouth and got it to me. One day his foot got stuck in a mouth and I couldn't get him out. So I watched while it swallowed him. A few years later when I went back, Carl was right there and he was stretched out. I went to pet him, except it wasn't him and he bit me, wouldn't let go. What are if people can be part of the dog scape too? I miss Carl. So it's under the idea that if you get consumed by the dog scape that you can, that the dogs themselves just join into the amass, I wonder if it's kind of like a collective conscious thing too. Like is the dog scape multiple or is it just all one giant kind of like one giant thought, you know what I mean? I feel like personal. I don't know. I feel like if they were actual dogs with individuality, they'd all be freaking out or panicked or sad, but instead they all seem like this unified presence of like happiness, but hunger. So I don't maybe Carl's consciousness was fused into the collective, but I don't think he alone is still Carl, you know. Yeah, I mean, it kind of means by like, it kind of reached down to the bit me. It kind of reads like the end of the Evangelion remake where everyone joins together in a collective consciousness and then you're kind of just like filled with good memories and thoughts and stuff, but everyone shares the same like kind of, I don't know, emotions and everything. You know what I mean? Like a weird, super weird idea that obviously like, like as a human being, you can't probably comprehend, but it would be like, it'd be very odd sharing that consciousness with billions of other entities. Everything we read is always, it's always Mother Horsesize. It always comes back to Mother Horsesize. It's a flesh interface all over again. So what help us run? Log six. All is one in the new truth. The dog mother is vast beyond imagining and requires many to be kept comfortable and clean. We chosen, do not go unrewarded. However, in her vast wisdom, the matriarch gives all we need. We suck from her vast teeth, a hearty meal unlike any other. It invigorates and nourishes us canestodians, oh like canine custodians, canestodians, what's cool? It invigorates and nourishes us canestodians and gives us more than we could ever wish. A time soon approaches though to find new workers. The metamorphosis is upon many of us and soon we will join with the glory of the dog mound. We are so different from the others. They shuffle about down among the photo groves. Many of us have a thick coat already. An old Lawrence has already begun to walk on all fours. Soon we will shed our mortal selves, be part of the dog mother, our mother. Yeah, I was wondering at what point would it be that the humans just started to believe that they were dogs. That they could transfer into dogs or like maybe by turn themselves over, they mean feed themselves to one of the mouths. Like to fuse back into it because that previous guy had the thought of like maybe people can be part of the dog's cave, but here it's like because it says we need younger canestodians, which again, cool word, but it's like so maybe the older ones when they're unable to help the dog mound or whatever, they feed their flesh to the earth so they can become a part of the dog mound. Yeah, I always love one's stories like this dip into those kind of like weird sacrificial rituals and stuff. Oh, it's always so weird. It's always weird and like, I don't know, what is it like? Sorry, my brain is short circuiting. It's weird and all like all like I'm in all or whatever. What the fuck am I trying to say? It's weird and captivating. It's weird and captivating whenever you get into this thing of like how characters in a story start to justify how they should like sacrifice themselves for a greater cause. I think it's I think it's interesting how you can roll into that. Yeah, I also think it's interesting to have these different competing perspectives that kind of contradict each other in some parts. Like there's the tribes that hate it and like become more primal because of it. There's those that filled. They need to be solitary. There's those that love it and filled. They need to worship it. It's like interesting in the ways different minds kind of break going through this world. Log seven. I think we knew the war had been lost the day the general committed suicide. The masses of flesh and fur just spread like waves across the cities. We found out that whatever it was, it was drinking the oceans and eating anything it came across. Air strikes, tanks, bombs, it only slowed it down. We were living on borrowed time. It was unstoppable. I don't think it was until later that we noticed all the dogs were gone in that night, the howling. It was just too much. Former soldiers faced steam with involuntary tears as he remembered the events. He sat there wallowing in his own emotions, telling his story to his skeleton he found. My unit completely wiped out. I saw those tentacles and those mouths and they tore them to shreds. I ran away even when they called for help. It's it's all your fault. The dog tree shifted slightly. The many eyes growing around erected their gaze towards the psychopathic man. "You ruined everything! You killed my friends! My family! God damn everyone!" He ran and stabbed one of the eyes with a bone fragment. The howling noise emerged and a nearby dog tree swatted him several yards. Broke a few ribs when he hit the ground. Coffed a bit of blood, but he got back up and charged again. This time he ran towards one of the open mouths around and kicked several of its teeth out. Bit his foot in response, costing him a tower too. He was so full of adrenaline. He was incapable of registering any kind of pain. He beat and tore and bit of the flesh with his bare hands until he was knee deep and blood and gore. One of the tubes he tore spilled some sort of digestive fluid all over him. It burned, but he had to go on. Dug and dug with his bare hands until the ground started to close above him. He kept digging until he found them. The heart of the brain. He laughed at his fortune finding both of them so close to each other. He jammed his hands deep into the grey matter, [Music] Serving the contents and slowly losing oxygen in his tunnel of meat, he gaffed and clawed at the heart, tearing it out of place, collapsed and blacked out. He awoke to many tentacles burying themselves in his body, one hit his spinal cord and fused with his brainstem, a flood of thought hit him all at once, as he suddenly became one and put the dog's cape. More tentacles connected themselves to his vital organs as he became assimilated. He saw it through every eye in the lands and he felt every single nerve on the planet. Healing factor continued tearing him apart, adding new pathways and connections. It wasn't long until he was entirely consumed. His memories faded away as his brain was reorganized, replacing the one he had destroyed. It was pretty cool. He had just a mass of flesh, like a giant conglomerate that consumes anything and just re-registers it for its own system. And we get a little bit of any living creature's building material. We get a little glimpse as well of the event of the happening, like the kind of random apocalyptic day that occurred when everything kind of changed. Yeah, as he said, they drink the oceans, ate up everything, like a giant mass, woke up all at once, took over the world. I want to take a quick moment to think today's sponsor, Babel. If you couldn't tell by this podcast, I love stories. It's a way we can communicate with each other. These are the coolest way to share beliefs, thoughts, and opinions. But it's hard to do that from the other side of a language. And trust me, I know learning a language can be hard and time-consuming, thankfully Babel is here to help. Babel is an award-winning app that makes learning a new language simple and effective. With Babel, you can learn a variety of languages from Spanish, to German, to Italian, to much, much more. And their courses are created by over 200 language experts. It's like your own private tutor, and that's where Babel really shines. You get real-time feedback and progress markers that let you keep track of your success. Between that and the games to learn new languages, or podcasts you can hear in the native tongue, there's so many ways that teach you a language without feeling like a chore. And even though I'm just a beginner, I think I've got enough figured out for my German courses with Babel to visit the country. Ikheisa Aisea? Vo is day Twilletta. I'm Gruzel Gishekta, but that's what I got. Babel's flexible learning platform lets you start having a conversation in a different language in as little as three weeks. So to start speaking a new language, click the link in the description or head to Babel.com/creepcast to get 55% off your subscription. That is right, over half off your subscription when you use our link. So join the millions of Babel learners breaking the language barrier every day. Again, that's our link in the description at Babel.com/creepcast to get in on this incredible offer. Today. Thank you all for watching the ad. Thank you to Babel for sponsoring the show. We are now back to the episode. Log 8. It's been three years and two weeks now since I met our another human being. I know because I've got a small notch in my left leg for every day. One of my left arm for every week. One of my right arm for every year. Admittedly, not the most effective way of keeping track of time, but when I started, I figured I'd be dead or this would be over before it really mattered. Like I said, I haven't met any other people for a while, but I figured I would write this anyway just in case it's a warning to others that might be out there. I ran into something terrible today. Well, the whole dog scape is terrible, but I mean more terrible. I think even among the dog scape, it's some sort of crazy abomination, since the feral dogs and ground mouths didn't seem too fond of it either. That screaming is not something I ever hoped to hear again. But that's not the beginning. I'm sorry about this, but I'm using doesn't really come off the paper and I can't waste anybody throwing it away. Not even thinking about talking to the other people for years has made me sort of bad at thinking in a straight line, but I'll try. Let me just start over at the beginning. The day started normally. It was my weekly gathering day, so I left my tent, by the way, I left the tent at the foot of a pillar of dogs in the direction of the setting sun if you want it, but you probably won't because the skin is probably gone bad by now. To collect the dog fruits, I would need for the weekend to fill a bag or two with milk. But when I got to the place where there should have been teats, there was just a bloody mess where someone had dug deep into the flesh of the dog scape. I didn't really think much of it at first, just thought I'd need to go looking for a new source of milk, and I saw it. I thought it was another person at first. If I had stopped to really look first, I wouldn't have had any problems, and I wouldn't be riding this right now, I guess. I started shouting to get its attention, and I did get its attention because it turned to me, and then I realized I had made a huge mistake. Thinking back, the really long arms and the twisty body probably should have been my first clue. But I didn't really see that anything was wrong until it turned towards me, and I saw what I thought was ahead, just a featureless lump of flesh. Arms unfolded outwards, each arm ending in two canine legs, and the human face on its chest opened its mouth and started screaming. I figured it was bad news then, and made a mad dash for the nearest pillar of dogs, but it kept running after me, and it was much faster. Somehow I managed to make it, and I started scrambling to climb out of its reach. I didn't get very far before, there was a sharp pain in my leg, and I looked down and saw that it had bitten me with one of the many canine mouths along the arm things. I screamed as it pulled me down, but that didn't do much, and I probably would have died right then if it weren't for what happened next. Out of nowhere, mouth I didn't even see when I started climbing the dog pillar, bit down on it, and then one in the ground, and they started chewing at it, but that didn't really seem to hurt it, but it let go all the same. I ran away as fast as I could, but I could hear that screaming long after I was out of sight. I didn't sleep that night. Just before nightfall the night, I felt like I had to make sure the dog's escape had killed it and went to the pillar, but I saw no trace of it. But the notebook I tore this paper from was there, and I took that. So now, here I am. I'm not going to stay around here any longer after I finish this, but finding this notebook made me think maybe there are other people, and if so, maybe I should warn them about things like this, so if you're reading this, good luck. Oh, also, moving in the direction of the rising sun, so if you can read this, you're probably another person. So, if you go that direction, maybe we can meet up and be a little better off than we were. Indivlogging. Indivlogging. Indivlogging. Indivlogging. It's like forming like conglomerates of people and dogs then running around. Well, I'm wondering if it's, when it's been consuming people, if it's also been like birthing these weird hybrid, hybrid creatures that even the dog's escape doesn't like. Like it doesn't like that. It's just like a mixed, mixed species kind of thing. It would make sense because we know it does it to dogs. So if people are getting consumed by it, it probably does these weird, like it just uses whatever building materials it has and puts it together like Play-Doh to shove stuff back out there, you know? Well, but the only one that has broken the mold is the one of the soldier because all the others are first hand accounts, but that one was like a third person omniscient perspective. Yeah. But I don't mind that they have imagined systems. Okay. All right. Do you, do you have even, was it kind of off putting when it was broken? It's like, it's kind of like all of them were like, I believe this and because they're all from a first, no, I'm fine with them all being broken accounts. That's fine. But where they're all from a first person perspective, it's like, well, this person could be wrong or this person could not know what they're talking about or they could be crazy. But in that one about the soldier digging down to the brain and heart, it's like, okay, well, that was just a perspective of no one describing an event that no one could have been witness to. So it's like, well, we know that's a perfect account of what happened. So for me, it kind of hits the speed bump a little bit of being like, oh, these people could be crazy. Who knows what they're actually saying. Yeah. I mean, I prefer the, the personal entries over the logs. Yeah. Over the, you know, the actual like narrative storytelling of like someone talking about someone else or whatever. But I, but, you know, all good, the same nonetheless. But I do wish it was all consistent, even if it is from other authors. I think first person perspective serve a very bizarre setting like this better. Yeah. Especially since there's very specifically logs, yeah, log nine ticks are the only things that seem to like this place. They're everywhere during the evenings. I can see massive clouds of the bastards flitting across the matted surface, making the flesh of the dog scape quiver as they drink their fill. Sometimes candid legs of various size and deformity burst through the surface to scratch at them. It doesn't work. All the dog scape gains are vast scratches of scar marks, which the fleets feed upon. Sometimes I rest on the side of a large outgrowth only to realize it's a monstrous tick. They latch on to one of the deep arteries of the dog flesh and endlessly leach off the new world's lifeblood. I saw a man once, it was hot that day. I was making my way for a dog pillar and saw him in the distance. He wasn't moving, and as I approached, I saw why. He was covered in ticks, not a single spot on him was clear, although clothes remained on him were stretched over them. Well little clothes remained on him were stretched over them. There's no wind, so all you've heard was the faint scuttling of their tiny legs scratching against their ludicrously swalled bellies. He must have heard me, because he opened his mouth and tried to say something. his voice was raspy, his mouth was red, but he did manage it. just say one word, itch, oh, how good is that? That's awesome. I like log nine a lot for a couple of reasons. One, I like that there are obviously there's going to be some things from the old world that are like thriving and I love that ticks are moving around like basically like bats or birds in like these giant droves, but even just the visual of like I don't know hundreds of not thousands of ticks covering every inch of this guy's body and they're even feeding on him is, yeah, fucking disgusting. And just like, like at one point he was fighting it off, but now he can anymore. So it's just to come to it itch. Yeah. He also talks about like the giant leg shoot up from the ground and try to scratch at them and then the fleas come into the holes that are left behind by that and abnormally such a brutal biology of everything. I've normally disfigured leg coming up with and scratching like a dog or that would be so creepy looking. Yeah. I do it like again, I love how despite the absurdity of this world, there's so many like moments of, oh, that's awful. Yeah, absolutely. The tick man is by far my favorite so far. tick man's pretty sick tick man's cool. Log 10. Today is the fifth day of the 12th month of the 654th year. So 654 years into the dog scape. I think that's what they're saying. Yeah. My gosh. Okay, ours is the final generation. After us, the dog scape will be all that is left and all remaining men will either absorb into mother dog or perish from this wifly dine world. I have only a vague memory of my mother, whether she was killed, stolen or absorbed, I can't say. Really, no one's quite sure what happened to the woman. Slowly but surely, they've disappeared, often vanishing in the night without any warning and leaving no trace. Women are the only thing of any value in this world anymore. And the primary purpose of the tribe is to protect the group's claim to a woman who is used for the benefit of all the members. Well, that's okay. Well, all right. Reproducing babies. I see where they're not safe for tags. Yeah, I see where they're not safe for more tags. Come in. It's interesting to have a group that is 654 years into this thing because you have like you have hundreds of like dozens of generations that have no memory of a world before the dog scape. You know, yeah, they would become like these primal animal stuff. Yeah. It's terrifying. Our tribe's woman was taken several months ago. The first month we mourned her. She may have been a captive in many ways, but many of us cannot help but become attached to her. The second, some of the men began engaging in homosexual activities with one another out of desperation. I'm sure that I was not the only one who realized that there was little meaning to our continued companionship and that soon the tribe would disband. This is the third month since she was taken and it's all fallen apart. First the elder was killed over dispute. It's really just a confirmation that the unity of the tribe no longer existed. No longer had any reason to exist without the tribe's woman. And so we began to drift apart. I know what will come next. When tribes dissipate the members, alone and confused, come to depend on the mother dog for sex in much the same way they do for food, warmth and shelter. On turn, I don't like where this is going, oh my gosh. All right, here's what we're going to do. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to read through this and then we're going to censor. We're going to bleep out everything but needs to be bleeped out. All right. So it's just going to be bleeped out. All right. Mother dog sex organs, dot the landscape like seized watering molehills in the dog flesh. Fucking dog pussy molehills is disgusting watering molehills to such a god. So much as the worst way to start your day just reading that. You know, I see why the story was on Ford Chan that felt like I just got slapped by something awful on an image board. Oh, the men find a sex organ to claim for their own and spend their days thrusting into it. Often they find entrances near dog trees screwing when they're desirous and eating the fetuses when they're hungry. Oh, oh, hotter. Oh, gosh. Yeah, I'm just kind of like digesting the idea of a man having sex with doggo sea and then like eating baby hybrid pup dogs. I'm guessing or even just. Yeah, I think I think that's the implication. Yeah. It's the 600. Also, it's the 654th year in a dog's semblance society or values or anything like that. Yes. Yeah. These are rabid human beings. If you didn't even call them that anymore. They're like animals. Yeah. They're running around in their animals. So we got a sense for some of the. Yeah. We'll sit. We'll sit. Yeah. We'll sit. Okay. They have no reason never to move from their mount. In this way, men forget the world around them and become obsessed with mother dog. Now, not only a mother, but a lover too. Is there everything? It's common to see skeletons either bare being picked apart by dogs. Their pelvis is still pressing into a dog mound surrounded by the still wreaking stench of their own filth. I like how they're comparing the dude looking at doggo sea on the side of like a hill to like that of a person that was like left to die on Everest. They're just like bodies who just left there. Yeah. Just laying around. Yeah. I also like. So I actually, no, I like how brutal this depiction is of like how far the world's going because it's very, very intense. But there's also almost a connection made between it and like, like a generation to the point of like, if you have your basic needs met, you don't go anywhere. You don't do anything. It's like people have no reason to leave the mounds. Yeah. I mean, they've become protective over them. There's no way that the human, yeah. I mean, the human race is probably even lower than like a chimp status. I mean, probably smart enough to obviously write this down and articulate with each other. But I just mean like, yeah, there's nothing there's nothing left. It's just complete debauchery and yeah. Yeah. It's an interest like with everything else. It's interesting how despite how absurd it is. It ties like growth comparisons of the generation and stuff. And I do think, and I do think even though it is a fucking disgusting mess, I do think this, this story so far works best in this apocalyptic landscape with like this tribal kind of like I still I like the tribe makes the most. Yeah. Yeah. I enjoy that the most. Yeah. It's certainly the most well removed from anything. Earlier, the whole mention of tribes and I forgot my name and stuff like that didn't work as well. Because I feel like there's no scenario where right now the world falls apart. And I'm like, I forget my name. I'm now green. Yeah. It's been a year or something that yeah. Yeah. It's been a year. I am I am Waldoch commander of the tribe of blah blah blah. But if you're 600 years in, yeah, that makes sense to me. I guess even if you're a year and though, too, you could have gone like just completely mad. I mean, you could go postal, but I don't think you're going to be like, I forget my name. I am now the scribe of the tribe of dog. Yeah. Yeah. You know, nice. You're saying today is the 27th day of the 12th month, the 654th year. As I predicted, the former members of my tribe have slowly but surely fallen into a degenerate lives of mound humbers. The desperate scum have forgotten their own humanity, sickening. I vow never to fall into that disgusting state. And so I will walk this lonely to brave dog scape searching. I can't end this way. Fall of humanity uselessly and itself into extinction. So I continue knowing I may end up hopeless, utterly defeated by the dog scape. I wonder if that's actually commentary for like the goon in culture that's happening. That was about to say. I was about make a joke and say me scrolling through Twitter. Yeah. Surely you may not give them self a way to evolve, but it does got like the that's why I was kind of getting at earlier when it's like they they have no reason to leave because they can eat and get their pleasures there. So they're just going to stay there forever. No need for anything more than immediate satisfaction. Yeah. Like an animal. But yeah, I do think it's like I think whoever's writing this is certainly digging a bit at like goon or culture. I hate I know I've said it before, but I hate that the word goon got used for that because now I'm just stuck with it forever. Because it's far too late to change it. If I think you knew what you were doing. No, no, but no, when I when I started the name, I had no clue of any of that. And it was like two years into the channel that that started up. And I was like, this won't catch on. And guess what? Why did it catch? Why did it catch? Completely inconvenient for me all the time. Today is the second day of the fourth month. of the 663rd year. I found a woman standing as if waiting for me under a dog tree. Her mouth died red with the blood from a dog fetus. At one time, I would have been puzzled to see a woman standing alone and unafraid. But I haven't come upon a tribe in years, and credibly rarely, just one come across a man who is not mesmerized with the dog mount. I suppose this must have been the biggest surprise to her to a found a man who's not yet become a slave to mother dog. In any case, it's important not to take chances. So, um, well, I do you want to brush this 100? How do you want? What's the cable? What's getting some advice for our, okay, getting some advice from our defensive coordinator? Like I said, the unsensory thing will be on Patreon, but this will be bleep. So to keep the trick, like I said, bumpy road, bumpy road. I mean, it's, it's, it's awful. It's very messed up, very intense. So it's important not to take chances. So I grabbed her, then I did the dog tree with the length of dog flesh rope so that she couldn't run. Yeah, like any, any sense of humanity this person has because they're literate and are able to type, it's done away by the fact that there's 600 years into this and still think like a, like a caveman, like one of the tribe members who sees a woman as a commodity. Yeah, very messed up. A very, very brutalist depiction. It's not to compare the story to peak. But it's in some ways reminiscent of Kormick McCarthy's as a road, right? Where like all the men who the main character comes across in that story have women chained up and tied up because it's like these are the only valuable thing left in the world because they're the only thing they can carry on generations. And there's like like when the main character in the road comes across a group of them, all the women are pregnant and stuff like that. It's a very, it's a way of showing that there's no coming back to this world as good as gone, right? Maybe it shouldn't come back at this point. Yeah. Today is the seventh day of the eighth month of the 663rd year. My woman is pregnant. I have watched over her, protected her from the wild Mongols. It still roamed the dog scape. When the swarms of ticks came, I covered her in a hide. I wonder if we're the only ones left on this planet who are still human? Today is the fifth day of the first month of the 664th year. My child was born today. My woman squeezed my hand, breathing hard, pushing. After some time, the child came. A healthy, normal female infant. I saw that all my struggles hadn't been in vain, that our race did have a future and I realized that I was crying. I held the child briefly and then set it down to reach for my blade to cut the umbilical cord. No sooner had I set the girl down than a furry tendrel shot out from the dog tree. With a whack, it wrapped quick around the umbilical cord, gripped it tight. As the dog tree sunk into the ground before me, I hacked at the vine, but it could not be cut. Next, I went for the umbilical cord tearing with all my strength to save my girl, but the vine had melded with it and converted it into the same strong substance. And so, I could only watch in horror as the dog tree disappeared into mother dog, dragging my woman and daughter with it. I dug after them, ripped the dog flesh open enough to watch some mutated dogs with the upper layers tore the child's face. There's no hope for the human race. The dog's scape will not tolerate disloyalty any longer. And so, I commit myself to this dog mount. No, truly one with mother dog. No. What a day and full I was forever thinking I could beat this world. Dude, it is. This is this whole story's messed up. Gosh. Oh, man, my boy had to give into the dog. Go see at the end. It's so so sad. Well, he came to the conclusion there when as soon as a child was born, the dog scape took it. Man, there's no hope of like there's nothing. It's like almost like a clarity he got that, yeah, these guys that are just getting pleasure until they die. That's probably the best move at this year. Because they saw another human being. They're never as hope. Years of since he saw a tribe or another human being and that's when he saw the woman and stuff. I mean, like he must, I mean, it would just be a thing of like what the what point is there? Fuck it. I also see a child's face ripped apart like that. My God. Yeah. And like the woman and her get dragged down beneath the dogs and like they get ripped apart by everything. I become a part of the flesh. And you know, the flesh is going to be reused to grow the dog scape. So all you've done is just help the dog scape and the mounds are so brutal. They're so gross. It's, uh, uh, I mean, that entry was rough, but, uh, rough, uh, that entry was rough, but it's certainly got its point across, you know, how rough, how awful it was, horrifying, horrifying world. Yeah. So are you okay? I just, the rough thing. I just said, I feel like I've been hit by a car from the last couple seconds of you just talking. You're welcome. So I'll say immediately looking at this next entry. I already don't like it. The direction it's going from the first couple sentences. Not a fan. Log 11. Galactic calendar year 100 day one. We have arrived at the closest star system from our previous home. Our world was ravaged by war and we continued through space as nomads. We have searched for a hospital world and find this one to be our liking. We had received signals from this planet that date back at least 700 of its rotations around their star. If there anything like us, the generation surely have changed here. As we approached, I am puzzled for the planet appears much different than our records indicate. The planet is a brown color, not blue, and it appears to be alive in its own right. We will send a team down and investigate. Our ship reached orbit around the planet's singular moon. There we gave the crew a final review of the information we knew about the people of this world. Our main source of communication we have received was in the form of signals they called televisions. I understand into the language will no doubt appear primitive to the dwellers below, though personally, I feel that something is odd. We had lost all communication from this world recently. Captain assumes it was because of their switching to a higher technology. They always talked about their newest technology, which looked more and more like a race that could enter that of other space-faring peoples. I am to go down with the rest of the team by the next day on the planet. Though I watch the now-brown world and feel that something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Couldn't be the job. I don't learn dog faces. I don't either. Like don't give me a fucking alien entry, dude. It's like boring. The whole time we've had these people like in this stuff, we just got a very brutal one of like, yeah, there's no hope. I just will go to the mounds. And it's like an alien shows up. And also I hate not just this, but anytime someone writes aliens or extraterrestrial stories and they're like, they have these receptors that depict images. They call them televisions. It's like shut up. The alien race had technology to travel across space. They'd be like, they got TVs. It's not that complicated. They would have figured out what a cathode ray tube is by now or all the stuff where it's like, these humans, their language seems intelligent. They communicate. It's like, what are we, what are we doing? Yeah. It's like, do you think that aliens are stupid? It took me out. It's immediately took me out of it. And also, there's other space creatures that like, why do they need to be brought it? If I was on the like original thread scene, this get put, I would be like, we're not including that. That one. Yeah. Log 12. I don't know how many days it's been since I saw the last human. It's hard for the remaining survivors of the dog scape, women have all gone and only a handful of men remain. But as I said, it's been days since I saw the last one. I wondered the furry fields looking for a teet patch when I stumbled across something both very horrifying yet wonderful at the same time. I looked at what it appeared to be a patch, both male and female reproductive dog organs. Uh oh. All right, editor, get that bleep around again. I stared, fascinated as they endlessly paired with each other. I knew I should have looked away, but I just couldn't. After while of watching them breed endlessly, they seemed to stop. It appeared that they finally sensed me. I almost felt bad for interrupting, so I started to walk. Sorry, I don't want to bother you guys. I almost felt bad for interrupting, so I started to walk away, but I felt something grab a hold of my leg. Like down to see a mutated dog paw holding tightly to my pant leg. I tried to pull my leg from its grasp, but it held on. Then to my whore, it started. Okay, okay, I feel like I feel like after I just have a feeling that after that last guy a couple ago introduced like every productive organs, like the rest of the thread. We could go there. I feel like by doing that, he opened Pandora's Box that I have a feeling that every entry afterwards will somehow bring that back into it. I really hope not. Just like because there was like sexual stuff mentioned way earlier when it's like he takes five wives for his own pleasure, but it wasn't dwell time. But after that guy was like women are a commodity. Here's the stuff in the ground. I feel like everyone else is like, we can do that. Which I also have to mention. It's convenient that on a story group that was posted online anonymously. A bunch of guys were like, yes, and women are the commodity that gets straighted around like, okay, dude. At least with the part 10 it felt like there's a cohesiveness, like the despair of the world and stuff like that. Then to my whore, it started pulling me to the middle of the organ patch. I frantically began to fight to get loose for I knew what it wanted. More dog paws sprouted up and began pulling me. I knew I didn't stand a chance. I knew that I would be joined with dog mother in the end. So I silently accepted my fate. At least I would die happy. What maybe start laughing so hard, but he's like, I knew what it wanted is like pulling me in. I just imagine and go like, no, like his pants are around his ankles. No, please stop. Got that too. Bleep that one too. But yeah, I just have a feeling that after that got introduced, people probably didn't let it go. Anyway, people are going to be mad at this one. I hope you're ready. But it's brutal. It's like a dystopia. It goes to show obviously the world's evil. Obviously, all these things are bad, right? But it just, it points it out in creative ways, how terrible it is, most of the time. Log 13. While archaic tribal worship of the dog mother, and all its visible and fleshy glory, it's the most common form of religion in the barbaric dog scape. There does exist another mythology. One practiced only in distant, isolated pockets, and by a few of the oldest survivors. The exact details change from tribe to tribe, year to year, but the basics never change. The legend of the beginning of the dog scape, the genesis of the world we know. It tells of a time when humans were plentiful, walked upon ground that wasn't alive. There is a god, or a demon perhaps. A dog that lived amongst humans was even accepted and provided for by a human family, but it was no ordinary dog. This beast lived for over 50 years while canines at the time rarely lasted more than a decade. It was greatly powerful, more in control of its own or family than they were of it. They say it went out at night and honoured human prey, bringing back large collections of bones as trophies to its home, but the humans tried to ignore it, convince themselves that it wasn't a problem. Soon though, as the origin dog reached a century of age, it became increasingly powerful and unlike others. There were more strange disappearances and even attacks during the day. Vehicles were found with deep bite marks through metal and homes were burrowed into from below. The government of the time, many times more powerful than any chieftain of day, captured the hellhound. They performed experiments, tried to understand where it channeled its energy from. Progress was good. It looked as though even the secret immortality could be gained from this dog, but accidents occur. The betrayer, as they call her, who worked at the government facility, felt sympathy for the god dog. There you got honor. Look, god dog. He showed up. You said dog god, god dog god dog dog. What did I say? No, that's right. That's right. Yeah, I think you said good dog. I think I think that's what you said to god. Good dog. It either way that's right. Good dog. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. The betray because as we know, this super 100-year-old dog would be called god dog. Felt sympathy for good dog. She released him and concurrently, the all-consuming hell that is the dog's game. The enraged beast no longer held any sympathy for humanity. As it thrashed, recklessly through the lab, mutated samples adhered to its flesh growing like a cancer. Soon, what would become dog's escape was spreading like wildfire. It's mom gnashing at everything that moved. It's hide spreading over soil, stone and sea. What is the name of this horrible demon? It varies. It's honor. Hmm. It varies, but they all come from a similar edymological origin, I believe. I've taken down names from all over the world. Armed, mayor, a duke. And yet the dog mother is mostly certainly feminine. While it has said that, the betrayer was, in fact, the first human assimilated into the dog's escape. Okay. So the entire world became the dog's escape because there was a really old dog in a lab that named Marma duke, that a woman let go and it turned the world into dog flesh. I got. So that is in a close running with the space one for my least favorite entry because it introduced to something completely unneeded. Yeah. I mean, what? Why explain any of this? Yeah, the dog's escape is fun when it's like a giant world of dog flesh that you have to like get milk from that. That's cool. The more that I have to take, how it works, the less that I want to enjoy it or what it's cool it is. Yeah. Yeah, it ruins it. And there's also no satisfying way to do it. There's no story you could tell that I'm like, oh, that makes sense to why there's giant dogs everywhere. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, that, see, I was really, I was really held up thinking like, how did the dogs get that big? But now that you told me that there was a lab that had a bunch of growths and that a woman let Marma duke go and then Marma duke became, he was really old and he was also a demon. But then when he let got let go, the demon knocked over these like samples a lab had that would turn the world into flesh. That makes sense. Now that you say that God dog, God dog, you literally said God dog and Marma duke. So God dog. Now the thing is where this was like a collaborative thing on 4chan. This person was definitely trolling, which makes me hate it less than the alien one, which I feel like that guy with the, hmm, what is this signal? A television? This post 13. Yeah, it's named Marma duke. Of course he was. There's no way he was taking it seriously. Yeah. Armad Miram, but a duke. Yeah. Marma duke. Yeah. Yeah. He was like, what's the dog? So he said he said dog. He said he said dog. He said dog. He said, he said, he did say God dog. He said God dog. Also, you think on 4chan, people were like, Oh, that's cute. In the same story with the mounds. I don't have. That's really pretty true as well. At any point. Yeah. I don't think they've ever thought that about anything. Log 14. It's cold here. Jets of moist breath dot the landscape amid undulating hills. There are no proper dog trees. Only short piles of huddling dog limbs. Teets are few and far between and when I find one, I must work to coax the milk into a skin blatter. I move across the hills, my feet numb through the shoes I've fashioned. I move in the direction that seems easiest. A subtle and mangy slope that I only just noticed was guide in my path in a general downhill fashion. Where there's fur, it is thick and rancid with matted oil. I don't know why the mother does what it does, but all of her fruits have their uses. I hack at a fur clump, separating it from the flesh below. There's only a little blood from a gray skin tag. I fold and shape the waxy fur onto the insulating hairy coverings on my body. The dog flesh rumbles beneath me in a more than disconcerting way. It has been doing that for the past several weeks more so the further I've traveled, it's getting colder. I can hear only the winds now tearing across the mother. The hows, warbling and mournful have stopped. The sharp barks and yips no longer form a background cacophony. I huddle into my coverings and shoulder ahead. I have no path to follow, but forward. The ground feels harder here. The gentle give of the dog land has ceased, giving way to a dull, sound absorbing thought of matted fur. I slip yesterday on what seemed to be a lake of solid piss, and was not reabsorbing into the mother. My own shivering seems to sink a pate with the occasional rumbles of the mother. Her flesh no longer seems like the living being, but I know the deep within her, the blood flows. So cold here. I continue forward every day, the ground slopes more, and I struggle to sleep in a forgiving skin fold. There's no purpose but to move forward now, one foot in front of the other. It's been dark for as long as I can remember. Along with this night last, the air is dry, the land is mostly featureless, and hard as I walk. The wind blows clumps of brittle hair across my face and they hurt, a soft pop, subtle blue flash, and they blow past me. My hands are deep within my cuff reans, they are numb, I expose them to ward off the shocks that the cold will take them from me. I've already lost three toes, I can no longer feel that foot, no longer bother to light fires in the deep crooks where I sleep, but the last I saw of that foot, it was black and swollen, felt like it was burning, my travel is slow, I've heard soft, subtle tapping sounds, but when I investigate, I find only dog claws moving against the ground. The rumbles have continued and with them now come subtle rendering soul, the rumbles have continued and with them now come subtle rendering sounds like a mouth chewing on a bone. When the sounds intensify, I move faster, I don't know what causes them, I do not think it is mother, I have not found any teats in a long time, I am thirsty and my skin blatter is almost empty, I would kill my own parents for a fresh puppy fetus, I passed a smile, I passed a small pile of humans almost buried in billowing, tried fur, they were dead and desiccated, they looked like they were strong when they lived, I keep moving, there is only the road ahead of me, I do not know what it leads to. The ground shifted beneath my feet, and I pissed in fear, not a mouth, but a great hard chasm of flesh and bone, a torn open beneath me, a stinking human burst of air bellowed out, then hung and the cold cloud around me. On my ass, I appeared in the gloomy hole that had nearly swallowed me, but it was now still, I sat and contemplated it, breathing heavily, the thought of my empty skin blatters, slowly, I could hear sounds, several dozen feet below me start to play and echo in the cleft, a soft slapping, and a girdle, I do not know how, but I knew that this was my chance for sustenance, I slid into the meaty maw, I climbed down a shorned slab of giant ribs, still red and moist, finally landed on the steaming dark floor of the hole, it rithed beneath my feet, I fell to round, not knowing what I was looking for, when my hands fell upon a thumping tube set into the meat wall, an artery. I grabbed it, pulling at connective flesh and then bit at it. The blood shot out in spurts, and I drank my fill, I was covered in viscera, I struggled to fill my skin blatters, the cleft shuddered around me, and I knew I must leave it immediately. The walls were starting to hang tindials of meat, feelers to heal the damaged canyon, exhausted myself climbing out and nearly fell back in as I crested the edge of the crack out into the cold night. The dog flesh slowly mended behind me as I panted on the hard ground. Before I left it, I considered it, cataloged it, stretch mark, the mother was still growing. Ah, that's so cool, that giant chasm that he crawled into and drank blood out of was just mom growing a little bit, the dog stretching in a bit bigger, that's awesome, yeah. I am so weak and it is so cold, my filled bladders of blood are gone and the gray dog scapes stretches before me. I must make it to my goal, but I did not know what my goal is. I've walked for what seems like months in the darkness. I climb down a huge mass of frigid dog flesh, just like a great heap of small dogs, pile of dog heads and legs, a mound of tails and torsos, it is cold and lifeless. A slow, low creaking can be heard deep within it. I grip in the ear and lower myself to the bottom of the dog wall, my foot lands on something else. I gasp and get caught in a fit of coffee. I don't know what I am standing on, but it is not the mother. I feel queasy, nauseous. What could possibly be not the mother? It's frigid and hard, but I scrape at it and bits of dandery coldness come up off it. I hold them close to my face and my breath turns the stuff to water. I try to eat a handful of it, but it is so cold that it robs me of almost all of my remaining energy. The moisture trickles down my throat. It's good, look behind me at the dog wall with its exposed frozen bones and happy looking faces in ahead of me at the featureless dark. I'm too far gone to turn back now, I continue walking for hours and sleep and walk more. My footsteps are leadin. So wait, what was he drinking there? I can't tell. I can't tell if it's something. He said it tasted good, but I'm not sure what it was. Oh, it's frigid. I scrape. I think he's talking about ice, the ice on the bones. I scrape it in, bits of dandery coldness come up. I try to eat a handful of it, so cold robs me of remaining energy, moisture trickles down my throat. Yeah. So he's talking about, I don't know, I walked, I climbed down a huge mass of frigid dog flesh. It looks like a great heat. Yeah. Who knows? Finally ahead of me. I see light. I make my way towards it, slowly over the course of several hours. It's a beacon to me now, bright, glowing, steady fire. As I approach, I see that the guiding light stands on a pole before a series of low, dark structures. They're like solid walls of bound, but not. They are not dog flesh. It's a billowing hair and cold, dandery, water pile against the sides. I know that this is what I was destined for. At one end, near the light, it's a dark panel set under the wall. On it, our markings place there by some person's hand, but I do not know what they say. AIS1 in entrance. I shoulder against the panel, but it barely shutters. I try again and again. I'm renewed with purpose by the discovery of this place, but I am weak for my travel. I lean my back to the panel and slide down it, exhausted. My back catches against the low bar set into the panel, pushes it down and then clicks. Panel gives way and I fall into the darkness within. See there, okay, there it makes more sense, where it's like, I don't know what this structure is. It looks like a bone, but it's not a bone. And there's a low bar that clicks and I fall in because this guy's never seen concrete or a door or a door handle because he's been born to the dog scape. That makes so much more sense than aliens being like, what is this television? Yeah. In a small dark dry cave, it's alien to me. The wind blows debris and fern to the room with me. I look around. Strange dark masses seem to lear at me, and more of the unusual markings everywhere. Procedure list and keep closed and warning and wear radio at all times. A bright red cylinder with yellow stripes is inside a small box. I reach for it, but my hands scramble against a clear covering across the entrance to the box. I look at my hands now, they are purple, and I cannot feel them anymore. Another panel is on the opposite wall, like the one I had opened. I move towards it feebly. I am so cold, I pull on the handle, set into the panel, but it does not move. Small red light flashes above it. I pull harder, but it does not move. I pull again, jumping, but lose my balance and lurch to the ground. I smack my head with a dull thud. Cold is blowing in fear sleep from the opening behind me. This grape begins to hard panel, but it will not move. More markings adorn it. Close outer door first. I do not understand them. I sit against the panel, my vision is blurry, and a trickle of my own blood seeps across my eye. I go to sleep there, leaning against the dark doorway. I sleep and do not wake up. Okay. That's actually my favorite entry from the whole thing, because it's a guy so far removed that human inventions mean nothing to him. He has no concept of glass or fire extinguisher, like this lever, and he has found salvation. He has found a bunker he can go into, shut the door half, but I just imagine we described it at the ends like the power lever, and he can have electricity. Maybe there's food there, there's radio stuff like that. He could live, but he asked to first shut the door, but he doesn't understand what a door is, and he can't read what he's seen, and he doesn't know how it works. So he dies there in an open room that could have been a salvation because he's too far removed from what humanity was to understand how it operates. Much the same with a lot of the stories we've gotten throughout of the tribes and the way they treat women and stuff like that, humanity is so far removed from what humanity used to be that there's no way that they could save themselves. They're not humans anymore, there's some other thing. That even if they had all the tools to make themselves better, it would mean nothing to them more. They've lost the plot. It's like a cool symbol for all the other interesting ideas brought forward in the story. So that ending ties up so it puts a bow on again, it's a collaborative writing project. It's not like there was one cohesive thesis, but the idea of in a world like this, humanity would go to the dogs, so to speak, which pun intended. They would lose themselves to such a degree that there would be no hope of coming back, just like a man who can save himself by shutting the door, but he doesn't know what a door is. Yeah. I think that's sick. That was my favorite one by far. So after that, there's a final epilogue. My name is Charles Mountel, an Arctic ice station one. The abomination is not here. It is too cold. Tigger and I are the last survivors. We have 14 nautical miles south of the North Pole, directly north of Vancouver. We're trying to lay our position based on this radio signal, this message will be in five minutes. The radio broadcast the message again, as it had thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of times, cold, dead, desiccated bodies set hulled before the radio systems in a chair. At its feet lay the curled dead body of a mutt. Oh. Oh, but where was this? Where were the guys who did these two parts just do that? Okay. So assuming the epilogue is like, meant to tie into the bunker, the character comes across in log 14, then once you get to really cold regions, the flesh doesn't grow or it can't grow as much, which is why our character in the last part walked colder and colder regions so far that he found a structure that the dog flesh and not overcome yet, this little radio bunker. So he goes inside of it and there's a radio broadcasting a message from an Arctic station where someone lived and died. And then at that Arctic station was just a guy trying to send a distress signal and there was a dead dog at his feet, just a man and his dog before the world became the dog scape died in the cold. The last remnants untouched by this disease that took over the world. And that remnant is something again, as mentioned in log 14 that the world so far removed from, it wouldn't even mean anything if they could get back to it. Right. The visual after all that, all the horror of dogs and the dog flesh and stuff, a man and his and his loyal dog, like the dog was so loyal it died next to him in the chair. Like the classic image of like man's best friend, dined in a world that is still untouched like a final memorial after the rest of the world was destroyed by the visage of a dog. That's so cool. That's sick. Those last two parts banged. That was excellent. I think if there wasn't just the alien one, like there was just a couple where I was like, and we could have done without that, but I really enjoy it's been a while since we've had these kind of like, well, I guess I don't know if I guess we might have had some collaborative stuff. It kind of just reminds me also of like SCP infinite Ikea, whatever of like the thing that's kind of like a bit silly, but it goes on the tribal warfare stuff. I kind of just like these little vignettes of like these weird tribes in this poke post apocalyptic landscape and stuff and I think that it was it was just interesting. The more that I didn't think about it being a dog, the more that I was just like bought in. But then it was just like, yeah, I don't know. There's just some silly things where it's like break your immersion a bit, but I enjoyed it. What do you think? I liked it. I understand some people may not like the intensity of some of the things around like the way the tribe treats. But again, the intention is that humans are animals that they're the worst possible versions of themselves. They're very evil. And then again, at the end, it goes to say, yeah, they're so far removed from what we used to be. I can't come back to it. So I think those parts work. The parts I hated were the alien part and try it like the whole Marmaduc joke. I think. Yeah. But again, that one feels like a troll dog god again, unironically. But if you remove those two parts, I think it works so well. And I think that last post knocks it out of the park with like, it's so it shut the door first. So easy. Make yourself warm, shut the door. But he's never seen a door. He doesn't know how they work because the things meant to save you. Don't mean anything to someone that's forgotten how to be saved, how to preserve themselves to preserve their humanity to preserve their existence. And the radio's broadcasting, a man and his dog, the last survivors of a world that was forgotten. Oh, to me, to me, that made the whole thing worth it. Yeah. Those last two parts were excellent. I feel like. Yeah. I think it tied in that kind of like the distancing of the human race in a way where it made it kind of feel worth it in the end and 14 and epilogue where we had that build up in the beginning and that kind of really does feel like Jesus, like, this is so detached from what we know now. And I do think like, yeah, there's some spots where it was a bit of a harder, you know, grosser subject matter. But I don't think it ever lingered long enough to be extremely gratuitous, in my opinion. But yeah, I mean, the grades of the dog go see everywhere. It's going to be going to be big gross everywhere, you know, I mean, I mean, it's, it's gross. But again, it's like it's disgusting, the visual, but men give in to that disgust, right? Like they're like, oh, yes, excellent, something to get me away from this. And they fall for it. They commit themselves to it. They never leave the mound, as it said, like, and they victimize any women that come across like they become monsters, you know, it's disgusting. But they are humanities become just as disgusting to keep up with it. And that, and that which is creative and that within itself is the epitome of dog scape. That's the story just red. So thank you guys so much for listening. It was a lot of fun. Really cool seeing these collaborative posts come together and seeing how a community make a story happen. So over there's more stories like that we can read in the future. But until next time, everybody stay creeped. Also give your dog a pat on the head. Move it, Snoot, I like you saying, Cooper Snoot. I can't find the original, but there's a bunch of people making marvadoot jokes and the four chan thread. So once that journey into the center of the dog, that's pretty good. And, that's someone, someone of the four chan thread. Someone's more confident online and just said, "COVID-related?" Oh, the podcast is over. Oh, bye. Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye. Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye, Bye.