Bedtime

Bedtime
Tags: Horror, Non-con, Female X Monster, Humiliation

“I’ve always hated this room,” Mindy said.

It was Mindy and her mother standing in the doorway of her old bedroom. The space felt cramped, more than it ever did back in high school. There was only one window, blocked by an old oak that her father always insisted stay there in the yard. The walls felt crowded by the dark brown paint, and no matter how much she put up, posters or pictures, it never felt like she beat back the color scheme.

“Don’t start with your drama already,” Her mother said, now aged enough to be comfortable with grayed hair.

Mindy put her suitcase down on the bed. It lacked the green comforter she used throughout high school, but it was still familiar. It was next to a new nightstand, and was across from a dignified bookcase overloaded with pictures and awards her parents earned, but it was still her old bed. It made Mindy uncomfortable.

“You know I hated this room,” Mindy said, “I told you then, I always wanted to move.”

Her mother rolled her eyes, “And we ignored you, I was surprised you kept up your complaining for so long.”

Mindy narrowed her eyes at her mother, but she got a passive glance in return.

“This place gave me the creeps, I could barely sleep.”

Her mother looked at her watch, “Well then see that you find a new job fast, dearest. You can’t escape to art school like last time.”

Mindy opened her mouth to reply, but her mother turned from her and walked away. Mindy was left with a stuffy room that reminded her of the years of her life she tried her hardest to forget. Even being in that room was distressing enough. Not just because she was old enough that everyone thought she should be married and have a house of her own. It was something more, a queasy feeling that settled low in her gut.

She grumbled to herself, “Fine, mother.”

She unpacked her bags, stuffing her clothing into dresser drawers until she felt a glaze of sweat over her skin. She sat on the edge of the bed, and took a long breath. Mindy took enough psychology classes to know that her memory of her old bedroom was warped. It wasn’t as bad as she made it. It was an artifact, crafted from all her dread and anger during an emotional time in her life.

The bed groaned under her weight. The sound, off, late, made her sit up straight.

“Are you going to come for dinner?” Mother called.

Mindy stood from the bed, but turned to face it as if she expected the bed to make the noise again. It was a bed. A slightly unmade bed. She felt goosebumps down her arms, but she shook her head no until they went away.

“Melinda,” Her mother snapped as she poked her head into the room.

Mindy turned, “Right, coming.”

The dinner table had a chair at each of the four sides. Mindy sat at her mother’s right. The space across from her mother was vacant, but Mindy couldn’t help but situate herself closer to that space than her mother.

“You still eat fast,” Mother said.

Mindy stopped her fork just before biting, “I enjoy food.”

Her mother looked at the empty space across the table, and Mindy was sucked into the gaping hole in the conversation.

Mother took her next bite, and Mindy went back to eating.

After dinner, Mindy brushed her teeth, pulled on a long T-shirt she had for 8 years now, and sat up in bed with the lights off. She didn’t know what was stopping her from laying down and getting some sleep. Her mind felt constricted just sitting there.

She took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself. There was no reason to be upset, is what she told herself. There was nothing to worry about, is what she repeated.

Down the hall, she heard her mother’s door lurch closed.

“This is ridiculous,” She whispered to herself. Then she pulled the cover up, and rolled onto her side to sleep. Soon enough, she became drowsy. Then, she passed out.

Her eyes snapped open when she heard a tap at her window. She peered into the darkness, her eyes searching for the familiar window. She saw it, a long thin shadow against the glass, reaching out to tick against the glass. The old oak tree didn’t give up, nearly a decade later, torturing her at night.

Mindy grumbled, then pulled the covers closer as she shut her eyes.

The bed groaned under her weight.

She wanted to get right back to sleep. Instead, she was there in the stillness of the room. A prickle travelled through her nerves. She took a deep breath, let it flow through her lips. Her heartbeat slowed, and she felt sleep taking her again.

Her leg was going numb from her sleeping position, so she pulled it forward. Except, it snagged on the sheets. She pulled again, and it felt like the sheet of the bed was wrapped around her foot. It was ridiculous, she must have rolled around in her sleep.

She kicked her foot forward, but it still held tight. Mindy rolled on her back, and now her breathing felt off. Something felt off about it all, the way the sheet was wrapped around her, even the texture of the sheets. She didn’t know why, but she was starting to panic.

Mindy pulled her foot away from the edge of the bed, and the sheet finally gave some slack.

Then the sheet pulled back. Her foot was snatched to the edge of the bed, and whatever was holding her travelled up to her calf.

Mindy’s whole body tensed, and she screamed at the top of her lungs. It felt like she was in slow motion, her whole body felt heavy, her mind was foggy.

Then she opened her eyes to the morning sun. She sat up and pushed herself against the wall. The cover and sheets were already kicked off of her, bunched at the bottom of the bed and lurched to the far right side away from the door. Did she kick them off in her sleep?

Her whole body felt, slimy. It was like she spent the night dancing, or running for her life. She closed her eyes. It was just a nightmare. Her first night back in this bed, and she already woke up feeling restless.

“Breakfast!” Her mother shouted.

“Coming,” Mindy said, hopping from the bed. Still, something made her watch it over her shoulder as she found some pants to put on.

They took the same positions at the table for breakfast, and Mindy ate her eggs.

Her mother seemed oblivious. Besides the color of her dress, she was the same distant woman as the night before. If she was wearing a different necklace, Mindy couldn’t tell.

“I had a nightmare last night,” Mindy said, before taking a bite.

Her mother didn’t look at her, “Is that all that noise was?”

Mindy stopped chewing.

“You sounded like you were being attacked.”

She gagged on her food, grabbing a napkin and spitting up a small chunk before taking a drink of water.

“Melinda!” Her mother gasped.

“Sorry,” Mindy said, “It went down wrong.”

She waited until the conversation died again before she added, “I must have yelled out in my sleep.”

That night, Mindy sat up in bed. She spent one night in that bed, and already she was calling out in her sleep. Still, she wiggled her left ankle, and watched how free it felt under the covers. What grabbed her, in her dream, it felt so real. She shook her head. At this rate, there was no way she was going to survive living with her mother again. Her old nightmares came back in full force, and all she could do was investigate them like a scared little girl.

Her mother knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Mindy said.

The door cracked, and her mother leaned in.

“I just wanted to say,” Her mother said as her eyes browsed the room, “I’m heading to bed.”

Mindy let her finish looking around, “Okay, mother. Sleep well.”

Her mother nodded, hit the light switch, and then the door clicked shut.

Mindy laid flat on her back, watching the faint blue of the ceiling.

What did she used to have nightmares about? When she was young, this bed was her hell. She tossed and turned, woke up in cold sweats. Worse, sometimes she felt absolutely ill when she woke up. It was like an odd wave that travelled over her, a sense that nothing was right.

Her mother told her back then that she was being a, ‘drama queen.’ In many different words, she was informed that she was just trying to get attention. The one time her father took her to the doctor, they found nothing wrong with her. She seemed perfectly healthy.

Mindy rolled over, and closed her eyes. Just thinking about the past was disturbing her. She was too old for nightmares. The hunt for a new life started tomorrow. She made herself comfortable, and pulled the comforter close.

She woke up to an odd sensation, like a pressure around her thigh. She shifted under the covers, but as she moved, she realized the pressure like a bandage wrapped tight was present down her whole left leg. Her shoulders tightened, but she told herself not to panic. She shifted her thighs against each other. What was it? Why was it so far up her leg, like a stocking pulled up tight.

Her stomach flexed instinctively, and she let out a long breath. There was a sensation between her legs, one she couldn’t ignore. She felt, slick. Was she dreaming about something racy?

No, she told herself, this was the dream. Mindy pulled her wrapped leg forward, expecting the same response as before.

Her leg was yanked back, then pulled. The rush forced her to her back, the ceiling sliding past until her foot thumped against the board at the base of the bed. She yelped, but tried to remain quiet. This was a dream, she could be quiet, there was no reason to freak out.

The grip on her leg tightened, and Mindy propped herself up to look in the dark. She didn’t see anything but the cover over her legs. Until, a small wave rippled through the cover. It flowed from the edge, not high enough to fit anyone. Was it a creature? A snake, something worse? She could feel it slide over her left leg, and then it touched her right leg. She recoiled.

Why was she still awake?

It found her again, a warm contact, then another, fingers? Too long to be fingers, but each one circled her ankle until it held her other foot. It held tight, and she realized then that she was a captive.

Another ripple moved through the covers, moving to the space between her feet. It was larger, in that it actually had weight as it slid over her foot.

Then the wrap at her thigh moved. She felt small rubs against the gusset of her panties, like tendrils unfolding where they wrapped around her. Her eyes widened. What was this? She had the urge to throw aside the comforter, but fear of what she would see kept her sitting there in bed. She watched for any sign of a shape beneath the cover, but as far as she could see, there was nothing there.

Her back went straight when the tendrils pushed against the band of her panties. She reached beneath her legs and squealed.

“Stop that!” she screeched.

A fast movement rippled through the covers, powerful enough to force her hands aside as it rushed toward her stomach. In that last moment the cover was going to be tossed aside, then darkness.

Mindy woke up flat on her back, her arms at her side, and sweaty. She sat up, and looked to the edge of the bed. Nothing, not even a sign of something passing there in the darkness of the night before.

The only proof that anything happened was private. She felt grimey, and honestly, a little excited. Even a cold shower couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something important that happened to her.

She prepared for her day, dressed the part, and made her rounds around town. All day, as she bounced from shops and offices, flashes came to mind. Not just flashes of the strange moments before the dream monster struck, but others as well. They were new thoughts, maybe even fantasies. The sensation of the creature’s tendrils on her skin, squeezing, shifting. Even brief flashes of what happened if a creature like that was not obstructed by her panties.

When she returned home, she sat with her mom at the dinner table. Her mother ate in silence. Mindy didn’t see her even give a glance.

“I had another nightmare last night,” Mindy stated.

Her mother humphed.

“I hope I didn’t keep you up,” Mindy added.

Her mother took another bite, chewed, swallowed, “I managed.”

Mindy dreaded the sunset. As the hours swept past, she prepared for bed, thinking about the night before. She was alone in the bedroom, she knew that much. She was sure, it was just a dream.

Despite that, she got up and visited her mother’s bedroom.

Her mother was sitting up in bed when she entered, reading in the oversized king-sized bed. She stayed to her side, with the opposite side made up and vacant.

“I wanted to say goodnight,” Mindy said.

Her mother didn’t look up from her novel. Even in her nightgown, she seemed regal, stuffy.

“Hopefully I’ll sleep through the night,” Mindy said, “I don’t want to keep you up.”

Her mother put the book down, “Hopefully not.” The venom in her voice raised the hairs on Mindy’s neck. It was something only a mother could say with so much purpose.

“It isn’t like I’m doing this on purpose,” Mindy said, “We should have thrown that bed out a decade ago!”

Her mother rolled her eyes, “Really Melinda? It still shocks me you didn’t take up theater. This is an astounding performance.”

“Performance?” Mindy responded, flabbergasted, “Mother. Really?”

“I thought this was over and done with before, but still it continues.”

“What do you think I plan to achieve?” Mindy hissed.

Her mother snapped her book back open, “I couldn’t even imagine.”

Mindy said, “Goodnight mother,” before turning and leaving.

She sat in her bed, exhausted by the argument. How her mother could turn nightmares into a personal fault of Mindy’s, she didn’t know. The woman was a wonder.

Her legs hung from the edge, and for a minute she thought about looking under the bed. Then she snickered to herself, and pulled her legs under the covers. She snuggled up, and rolled onto her side. She tried to think good thoughts, tried to clear her mind and prepare for a wonderful night.

Her eyes opened, and a beam of moonlight was piercing the blinds. She tried to roll over, then realized that the same pressure as before was now wrapped around both of her legs. She took a deep breath, and held it.

“Its nothing,” She whispered, “Just a dream, just a dream.”

She could pinch herself, wake up before she left herself a sweaty mess. Mindy reached over to grab her bicep, let out the breath she was holding, and prepared to wake up.

The grip on her leg shifted, and she was forced to her back.

She yelped, her hand still hanging there in pinching position. The grip on her thighs, it brought back the strange thoughts from the day. All those memories, some that happened, some that didn’t. Now that she thought about it, some of those memories, the room looked different. In the dark, it was hard to make out, even in her memories.

She pinched herself, nothing changed.

Mindy whimpered. There was a sting in her eyes, tears welling up at the edges.

She could feel those tendrils unfurling, sliding against her most private places, shifting over her thighs, prickling the skin of her thighs. The amount of sensation from the strange contact sent a heat into her stomach. Her gut clenched in fear.

A wave moved through the cover, it slid over her foot, a short heat that nestled between her feet. It was an unnatural presence, something worth forgetting.

Like how in some of her memories, or fantasies, the comforter on the bed was green.

The tendrils slid between her skin and the elastic of her panties. Her hands went to defend herself, and a gust slammed through the covers before a physical body struck her hands, knocking them aside. She couldn’t help but let out a squeal. The heat was still there, like something was an inch from touching each of her inner thighs, was so close to touching her womanly lips.

Her hands slid beneath the cover, and she thought of pushing it away. As her hands grew close, she could feel the increased heat between her thighs. Was that her, or it? A mix? Whether it was the fear, or something else, she felt a pulse of excitement. It was embarrassing, but her nipples pressed against her night shirt.

She was close to touching it, planned to push it. It reached out first. Tendrils grabbed her fingers. They still felt like thick cloth, warmed as if by her body heat. It was thicker, a harder texture. She tried to pull free, but more tendrils found their way, until her fingers met her legs, and were wrapped tight. The ends of the wraps travelled up her body, sliding around her wrists, circling her mid-section.

“No,” She whispered, something stopping her from crying out, “Please, no.”

The tendrils in her panties slid along her lips. Mindy was captured, held in place by who knows what, and all she could do was try to ignore the soft waves of pleasure from between her legs. Pulses as the little tendrils slid up her length, and circled back around, tickling her inner thigh.

She closed her eyes, struggled weakly against its hold. Her thighs shifted, and all she did was give it new leverage. It moved with her struggled, slipping against her, growing slick as she grew excited against her will.

She could yell. She knew that. If this was real, her mother needed to know, her mother could save her. She was already groaning with her effort, would her mother hear that? Why was she afraid to speak up? This was real danger now, not a nightmare that would wake her mother up.

The tendrils slid her panties aside, and she could feel how close that heat between her thighs was. It moved against her lips, and hot, smooth. Her eyes widened in surprise. This wasn’t going to stop here.

Mindy took panicked breaths, then a moan escaped her lips as the strange object pushed into her. It was wide, and felt like a coil, ribbed down the length. It kept pressing, despite her body growing tense, despite her gasp of alarm as she reached her limit. Then it retreated, slow.

She tried to let out a sigh of relief as it left her, but she knew it would return. It was wet now, with her own excitement. An excitement that told the true story, she was enjoying this. It pressed in again, and Mindy blinked wildly as it filled her to the top.

 She wanted to move her arms, but they were pressed against her sides. The tendrils were up to her elbows, she was covered now in the strange creature’s binding. Forced to hold still while it took pleasure in her body, slid deep into her womanhood, pressed with an alien rhythm.

Mindy tried to think of a plan, but her mind was clouded by a growing web of ecstasy. It was stretching through her body with each new invasion. She tried to ignore it, tried to figure out how she was going to get her fingers free, and maybe claw her way away from the creature.

Instead she was left trying to stifle the small groans that left her lips. She tried to squeeze her thighs to keep it away, to at least put up some fight. Her body denied her, turned the squeezing motion into her butt pressing against the intrusion when it shoved into her.

“Oh goodness,” She whispered, “No, please.”

Then Mindy heard footsteps in the hall, and she stiffened.

The binding moved further up her body, and to her surprise, the pseudo-cloth wrapped up her neck, came around her mouth. Was it going to suffocate her? She gasped, but it came out as a soft moan.

As the door opened, the cloth reached across her mouth, and sealed tight.

“Mindy?” Her mother called into the room. Then there was silence.

She could barely make out her mother in the dark. There was only the sound of Mindy’s breathing and struggling in the sheets, and a muffled noise. When she realized what it was, her cheeks turned crimson. It was the sound, through the cover, of the creature’s organ exiting and entering her. Her moistness causing light squelches.

“I see,” her mother said, “Another nightmare.”

She wanted to yell for help, scream until her mother found her out. Instead she could feel the rising pleasure inside her. Her body was reaching its limit. Her body was on fire, and the monster didn’t seem to let up, not while her mother watched her in the dark, not while she tried her hardest not to moan. It pushed deeper, harder.

She heard her mother shake her head, and turn to leave, grumbling as she closed the door.

What did she say?

Mindy’s toes curled, her back went straight. The sensation was too much, a heat that surrounded her, the binding squeezing her until she felt like she could barely breath.

Mindy moaned into her gag, fought against her cocoon of terrible tendrils, and survived her shameful peak.

The tendrils retreated as soon as she reached the end. She watched the ripples in the moonlight, the comforter swaying as whatever it was slid off the side of the bed.

As her arm got free, Mindy grabbed the edge of the comforter, steeled herself, and peeked beneath.

She saw an odd eye, reflective in the low light, retreating away from her tender private places. A chill ran through her.

Her mother had said, “And tomorrow you will pretend you’ve done nothing.”

So many nights in that bed, so many nights tangled in the sheets. Her high school years were filled with nightmares, nightmares she expected. Nightmares she dreamed about the next day. Nightmares she prepared for when she got ready for bed.

Mindy remembered now, the look her mother would give her, the worry on father’s face. Did her mother know? Did she always know?

The next day, Mindy sat at the table, next to her father’s seat. Across from her was another empty seat.

When Mindy looked at her mother, the woman stared back. There was contempt there, or was it disgust? The same look that made her want to ignore what happened at night, push it from her mind.

Mindy looked away from her mother, and finished her meal. She stood up from the table.

“Done already?” Her mother said, “You eat so fast, so eager to go to bed?”

Mindy walked past her mother, “I enjoy food.”

She sat at the edge of the bed, unsure exactly what she was dealing with. Her memory was still foggy, hidden behind nearly a decade.

Mindy stood up, and slid her panties off in the dark. She kicked them aside, and then slipped under the comforter and prepared for bed.