Leon's Night

The following is a fictional standalone story about a 13-year-old boy named Leon who is about to find out if nightmares are real or not.

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Leon's Night

Author: James Jenkins

I wanna tell you all about this dream I had last night. I need to tell somebody, so I can hear it from myself, to see if I sound as nuts as I think I do. Because this dream, it scared the bat shit out of me.

Not that there was anything special about that night, or the whole day for that matter. School during the day, dinner and a couple video games on my XBOX at night.

After a few hours of re-runs on tv, episodes of Westworld or some shit, I was starting to feel sleepy. Around midnight I decided to crash. So, getting up off the couch I turn off the tv and went to my bedroom. It's just your typical 13-year-old bedroom, dresser on the left-side wall next to the closet. Queen size bed with small table next to it. Lamp on the table. Video games, wallet, and cell phone set down next to the lamp. Window on the far-side of the room.

But that's not what I wanna tell you about. You wanna know why the hell I'm even telling you this. I'll get to it then.

I was sleeping quietly, having fallen asleep soon after laying my head on the pillow. For some reason, I woke up in the middle of the night. Checking my cell phone, it was 5:10 am, and there was something not right about my room. Everything seemed spooky, the darkness of the room seemed so...alive. Looking around the room, I started to get that creepy, tingling feeling across my blonde hair. Goosebumps raising on my forearms. I shivered under the blue covers. Not from being cold because I was sleeping nude, but because it felt like, someone was watching me.

My eyes were suddenly drawn to the corner of my bedroom where the closet was. Even with the bedroom door left slightly open I was squinting to look through the darkness. I was trying to make out shapes of my clothing hanging on the bar. My pile of dirty clothes and roller blades on the floor, but I couldn't see them. The shadows seemed pitch black. It felt like something was there coming for me. My heart was starting to pound. That creepy tingling spreading down my head and face, making my pink lips feel numb. I could swear there was something there. Some form or thing that wasn't anything that was hanging up. Subtle split-second movement, a shifting in, or of, the shadows before I knew it.

But despite the goosebumps, I was feeling from staring into the shadows of my closet, I knew something was very wrong, because I could smell it. A scent that I can scarcely describe to you. It was the most awesome smell of sex and sweat and, strangely, a faint whiff of pot smoke. It was the scent of sweet, pungent sex, of lovers sweat, mixed with the strong aroma of something incredible. Cool as it was, it was there. But it didn't squash the effect this scent was having on me. I was getting hard. Really hard, quick.

I couldn't get why that was happening. I was in the middle of being scared shitless. But here I was, with a raging hard-on between my legs. The hardest I had ever been. It felt enormous! Not that I was, not like all other guys from my school or that people read about in crazy sex stories some read in Playboy or watch online (whatever floats your boat), or websites. I was no more than four inches long, half as thick, and cut. Because of this smell filling my room, it was rock hard and throbbing harder than it had ever before.

Despite my fear, I wanted to touch it. I wanted to wrap my hand around it and stroke myself to the thrilling orgasm I knew a hard-on like this would give me. But I couldn't. I didn't dare move an inch on my bed, because the shadows in my closet...they were totally moving, swirling in on itself. They were taking fucking shape. The form the shadows took, it looked sorta human. Arms, legs, torso, head...but like mist or vapor.

I knew it was there, I knew I wasn't high. I knew it was real because the shadows it was made of, were darker than the rest of the shadows in my room. It had me frozen on the spot. I was barely breathing. A cold sweat covering me from head to toe, but I didn't dare yelp, for fear this...thing, would see me. My fingers were gripping the bedsheets so hard it hurt my palms. Lips trembling as that spooky tingling feeling spread all over my body, tight in my chest. My brown eyes were dry and hurting from staying open for so long. I was so scared shitless I didn't dare blink.

My heart was thundering in my ears and chest as I watched this form start to move out from the closet. White shadows flowing across the space between my bed and the closet. I don't know why I thought staying still would keep it from noticing me, I couldn't even tell if it even had a face. It's not like I could've moved even if I wanted to, the fear I was feeling was too real to let me do anything but watch this thing float across the room right towards me.

Through all of this, my cock kept its hardness. In fact, it felt like it was getting harder. It felt Super-Man hard. Throbbing with my heartbeat. Pointed right at this ghost, this thing. The very smell in the room was getting stronger. I couldn't explain it. Here I was, sitting up in bed, holding myself up by my arms, covered in sweat and scared out my mind, but all I wanted to do was bloody cum. To have the most insane, raw, body-breaking sex possible. The want to have this orgasm was becoming almost as intense as the fear I was feeling.

As chilling as it was to watch this thing move at me, what cooled my blood then (and still does when I think about it) was the sound it made. Once it reached the foot of my bed it stopped and, I assume, looked down at me. Reaching out with a shadowy grayish appendage, it took hold of the sheet covering me and gently pulled it off. The brief touch of the sheet rubbing against my tanned skin, not just my engorged cock, but my whole body causing me to shudder involuntarily. That's when it made this sound. This hard, rasping, croaking sound. The Shining...have you seen that? I can't watch that movie anymore because of this. The sound the thing makes. It was a sound like that. It was something evil sounding. A sound that shouldn't ever have been heard because it shouldn't be real in the first place.

I watched this thing crawl up on the bed and over top of me. I was freaking trembling but couldn't do anything other than that. I could only watch and hold my breath, thinking to myself that this is my last night alive. I was gonna die. Whatever this thing was, it was either going to kill me or I was going to have a damn seizure. Either way, I was sure a nightmare was going to take my soul.

But it didn't. Instead it straddled me. It hovered over my body and I didn't dare blink once. I couldn't. It gave me the best chance to have my best up-close look at what this thing was. What I saw...I don't know what I saw. I couldn't look through it, so it seemed real. Up close it seemed like it was made of boggy, rising, shadows. Blackish-gray flames of itself separating and floating up, vanishing. Fuck I was right. It didn't have a face. Just a blank, black, smoking hole between what would have been its chin and the top of its head. It was face shaped, oval or something, but it was blank. Like staring into the night sky and the feeling in your heart that it was staring back at you. The lust that had been building in me, had me wanting to kiss this hole. I wanted to bring my face into it. The only thing holding me back was my fear. Fear and hot desire battling each other inside my body.

But the desire inside me was rapidly skyrocketing. I could hear it rumbling in my stomach. I could feel it in my veins, tensing my muscles and joints. Fear and lust zip lining through me, all coming in between my legs. Pushing my cock to a hardness I'd never felt before. My entire being wanting to explode out the end of it. Open mouthed I watched as it raised its left hand and spread out its fingers. Smokey digits like normal human fingers touching my bare chest. The icy, burning caress freezing the already cold sweat on my skin. What breath I was taking in caught in my throat. My body shivered with its touch, my skin turning snow white as it slowly drew its fingers down my chest and stomach. I felt that cold burn around my cock while this thing sat down on top of me. It didn't feel any weight, it had substance but nothing else. All I could feel was the cold burning, super-human grip it held on my cock. Stretching my back and pressing my hips into it. White cold fear and lust driving my hips up as far as I could. Though it didn't have any weight it moved with me, up with my hips and then back down, faster and faster. Moving into it with no other thought in my head then to drive my hips up harder and harder and harder.

I felt cold and dazed as this ghost rode me, leaning back and but seeming to be looking down at me. The warmth of my body being pulled from my arms and legs. My face felt clammy and pasty. Draining of color like the rest of my body, everything running directly to my cock, driving deeper into the icy hot depth of this being. My hips moving on their own. The mattress springs creaking louder and louder. The headboard rocking and knocking against the wall. My cock burning and growing. My breath held in my throat-my mouth wide open. Wanting to groan and scream out at the top of my lungs in joy.

This sweet fucking carried on for what seemed like the rest of my life. No matter how hard and fast I threw my hips up it wasn't enough to trigger my orgasm. Bug-eyed, grunting and groaning now with the need, the desire, the desperate and explosive need to cum inside my ghost lover. Sweating with hunger, my sheets cold and wet under me, held between my numb fingers. My crotch burning cold where this thing was sitting on me.

The burning in my cock grew more and more wild. One-two-three-four-five more thrusts and the dam in my balls burst. I felt as if everything in my body rushed out through the end of my cock. All warmth spurting out of me through my cock, the icy vise sucking it outta me. I could feel my body now growing cold, colder than I thought was possible without dying. Like part of me was being drained outta me. My skin was tightening around my muscles with a sharp, pinching pain. My heart was bouncing like a basketball in my chest. My breath was heavy in my non-working lungs. I couldn't support my body with my arms. They gave away and I fell back on my sweaty pillows. Back arched up high and tight, my mouth working for breath, opening and closing in vain like a beached whale, as I emptied myself of everything I had in me into the shady, floating, ghost.

I could only look, I still hadn't blinked since this whole dream started. I could only stare and watch the ghost spread a hand over its...where its middle, midsection, its ass...or where its ass would be. It held its hand there, like it was full, or pleased. Why would it do that? It held its hand there; I could see it do this. It held its hand there as it started to slowly dissipate. Its transparent blackness dissolving like smoke caught in the wind. Wafting and floating into nothing, rasping out that skin-creeping sound again as it disappeared.

I woke bolt up-right in bed, gasping for breath, as if I'd been holding my breath without knowing it. My first shaky breath making choking me, causing my stomach to turn and flip. The whole room reeking of old, dirty laundry and pot smoke. Leaping out of my sweat and pre-cum (I'd spilt some jizz my bed out of fear of this dream) soaked bed and tripping over my wadded up bed-sheet on the floor, I scrambled to the bathroom, throwing the toilet cover up with a loud clank and jacked off violently into the bowl. Groaning and wincing, muttering and spraying into the toilet. Spitting and sitting back against the bathroom wall, the smelly burning sensation in my nose and the back of my throat. Groaning and quaking, trying to calm myself and shake this awful feeling of fear, scared shitless to go back into my bedroom. I spent the rest of the night there on the bathroom floor. Shivering, naked and scared.

It was the middle of a Saturday afternoon when I finally moved myself off the bathroom floor and saw myself in the mirror for the first time. I swear, I looked older. There were a few zits around my mouth and eyes. My spiky hair seemed to be darker in color. I could see the red, finger-width sized welts down my chest. I followed them down my stomach to my crotch, which stung when I touched it. Looking down, my whole crotch was soft to the touch. Cock, balls, and thighs were a bright, pinkish-red, like getting a sunburn. After a hot shower I picked up my dirty sheets and everything else I'd needed out of my bedroom and closed the room off.

Did it really happen? It felt real. It felt so fucking real I haven't spent a night in that room since. Most of my friends think I'm damn nuts. They tell me either I need a counselor's help or that I should stop smoking before bed. But it felt 100% real. The marks, that's proof, right? Its hot bite, not some rash like my doctor said, right? It really happened to me, didn't it? I'm not a nut-job, am I?