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A sharp crack of thunder roused Jamie from sleep, the filaments of his dream falling away as he sat up in bed. Grogginess meant that it took him a moment of scanning the room to remember that he wasn’t in his old bedroom in his mother’s house. No one was crashing into his bedroom to drag him out of bed by his hair, no one was screaming or throwing things. The sound that had woken him was just the storm.

As his heart settled, Jamie remembered a more vivid dream, the one he’d had before the one about his mother.

The one with the… tentacles.

Heat rose to his cheeks. He’d tried to fight them off and lost so quickly. They’d held him helpless, slithering all over his body and inside him, stuffing him full even as they milked his cock.

He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. That was what he got for looking up all that stuff before he went to bed. It had put all those thoughts in his head, and his subconscious had gone wild with it.

Even though he knew it was a dream, Jamie couldn’t help glancing again at the darkest shadows in the room. He knew it was crazy, but it had felt so real. Like it had really happened. Like he’d really been held down and fucked, invaded by slithering, twisting—

“It wasn’t real,” he muttered to himself, pressing his face into his hands as he tried to chase away the arousal that spiked through him at the memory. “It wasn’t real, and you didn’t—you didn’t like it.”

He stared at the room. His apartment was still and quiet. It was the same old apartment. There was no monster lurking in the shadows.

”You didn’t like it,” Jamie told himself again. But there was a current of uncertainty there, instead of conviction. It had been terrifying, overwhelming, but part of him had… had almost…

”No,” he growled to himself, throwing the covers back. “Stop thinking about it.”

A shock of pain lanced up through his core as he moved to stand, and it made him realize how much his arms and legs also ached. Like he’d been tensing his whole body for a long time. Because of the dream…?

There was another rumble of thunder, the beginning patter of rain against the glass. It was shaping up to be a gloomy, rainy day.

On the bright side, it was also his day off. He wouldn’t have to go out and try to move stuff with the rain. Kind of lucky that he was off today, for how his body felt.

He needed to run a few errands and to get groceries today, but maybe he would put that off until the afternoon. See if the rain let up before venturing out.

A cozy morning in sounded like exactly what he needed.

Gingerly, Jamie got himself to his feet. He was sore all over, and as he climbed out of the messy pile of sheets he realized he was naked. Again. Hadn’t he gone to bed with underwear on?

Some quick searching found them on the floor, almost under the bed. Jamie had to bend slowly down to get them, body protesting. He hadn’t planned on showering this morning, but some hot water would do him good.

Standing again, he took stock of himself. His body ached, and his nipples and cock felt overly sensitive again, like they had after his previous dream.

Like maybe that tentacle arm had been milking him over and over again.

Jamie scowled. He was being ridiculous. He’d lost his boxers in the night, so probably he’d just rutted against the sheets in his sleep while he was bare, and that’s why he felt over-sensitive.

It… it didn’t explain why certain other parts of him also felt sore. Felt well-used.

With no small amount of trepidation, Jamie gingerly reached down between his legs. His fingers touched at his hole, but there was no wetness there.

He felt stupid for being relieved. But if the dream had been real somehow—which was crazy, it was still crazy—there would be some evidence, right? He remembered that part of the dream vividly. Being pumped full of come. Even as he looked down his body, his arms and legs, there were no marks from the struggling he’d done. There was nothing to indicate anything had actually happened.

He walked to the bathroom and flipped on the light. In the mirror he didn’t even look tired. If anything, there was a brightness to his face, like he’d finally gotten some rest.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he told his reflection. “Nothing happened. It was just a dream.”

He took a brief, hot shower, mostly just standing under the spray and letting it beat down on his sore muscles. He felt the tension ease, and sighed.

Washed and dressed down in comfy clothes for the day, Jamie padded to the kitchen. The storm outside was in full swing now, and his apartment had grown even darker. He went about starting a cup of tea for himself and grabbing one of the bananas off the counter. He leaned against the kitchen counter as he ate it, scowling at the room at large.

The back of his neck prickled like someone was watching, but he refused to look. He knew no one was there.

Jamie tossed the banana peel and started on making a bowl of oatmeal on the stove. The prickling on the back of his neck intensified, and he gave in to looking over his shoulder more times than he’d care to admit. Every time, the apartment was empty. Of course it was.

“You’re being stupid,” he muttered as he started to stir the oats in. The kettle was ready so he poured the hot water into his mug to steep.

When the oatmeal and tea were done, he took both to the small kitchen table to eat. He sat, still feeling those invisible eyes on him. The shadows of the apartment were thick, and Jamie should probably turn the light on but he didn’t want to get up again. Didn’t want to give into the illogical fear.

As he sipped his tea, he felt something touch the back of his neck. It was a barely-there sensation, like a breeze across his skin. Jamie sucked in a breath and twisted around in his seat.

Nothing was there.

He grit his teeth and reached for the spoon in his bowl. He made himself take a scoop of oatmeal and eat it, ignoring the next phantom touch across his ankles and then up his leg. The table was obscuring a direct line of sight, but he was certain nothing was there. It was in his head. It was all in his head.

“Nothing’s there,” he said. It felt better to say it out loud. Reassuring. “You’re by yourself.”

He tried to focus on eating, pulling out his phone to scroll for added distraction. He was supposed to be having a nice, cozy morning in, not spiraling himself into a crisis.

The food and the warm cup of tea helped, but he still found himself looking over his shoulder as he took his mug and bowl to the sink when he was finished. He rinsed and put them in the dishwasher and not for a single moment did he feel like there weren’t eyes on him.

Maybe another cup of tea would help. Maybe a cup of tea and some reading. Something to get his mind off of this stupid dream.

Jamie poured another cup to start steeping and then walked to the living room to turn on one of the lamps.

The light helped. Almost immediately the strange presence at his back receded. See? He thought to himself, it’s all in your head. It’s just the dark playing tricks on you.

Ten minutes later Jamie had a new cup of tea and a good blanket and had curled himself up on the couch with his phone. He’d only turned on the one lamp, but it cast a warm glow to the room that was perfect with the rain pattering against his windows.

He unlocked his phone, intending to go to his library app to pick a book, but his thumb missed it and tapped the browser. It opened to the last tab he’d left open.

The tentacle porn.

He should close the tab. All the tabs still open. Should close them to prevent himself from falling back down that rabbit hole ever again. He didn’t need any more weird dreams.

His finger hovered over the X on the browser, but then his eyes caught on the face of the man in the art. The man’s eyes were closed, his head thrown back in pleasure. It was clear he was enjoying himself. Enjoying being held down, filled .

The helplessness in the dream had been frightening and overwhelming, but Jamie could feel the heat stirring low in his belly as he recalled it. He didn’t want it to happen again, but he couldn’t deny it had been one of the most intense things he’d ever experienced.

Jamie knew enough about sex to know there was a whole realm of things he’d never had the time or courage to look into. There were toys and… clubs. Games people played.

Once, a couple years ago, he’d accidentally stumbled across a dark, explicit video on the Internet. A man had been secured to a bench and was being hit with what looked like a belt. Jamie had almost dropped his phone in his hurry to back out of it.

At the time he’d been terrified of his mother walking in and hearing it, accusing him of looking at something like that on purpose. But what he’d seen had stayed with him. It had lingered in the back of his mind since, and he didn’t understand why.

Jamie didn’t have to worry about his mother walking in on him anymore though. If he wanted to look, he could.

No one would know.

He tapped his finger against the edge of the phone, then moved and flicked through the open tabs. Now that he was looking at it clear headed, there was an obvious theme to all of these images. Jamie had scrolled through so much last night, and skipped past some of the pieces without a second glance. He thought back to that belting video. He knew that he didn’t want something like that, but there’d been something to the video he couldn’t shake.

Not the pain, but the–the–

Jamie’s cheeks flushed. The helplessness. That video and all of the pictures he’d lingered on had that in common. Each had a certain kind of powerlessness experienced by the subject. They weren’t just restrained, they were being held in place. Immobilized. Taken. Used .

Jamie clicked on the tab that had the most intense depiction. The tentacles had wrapped all the way up and down the person’s body, almost like rope. He clicked over to the artist's portfolio page.

He licked his lips as the images loaded. There was a lot to choose from.

Jamie scrolled through picture after picture, his heart pounding, the heat rising in his body. Then he stopped dead. His breath caught in his throat.

Halfway down the page was something different. An artistic rendering of a man suspended, arms folded into his body. He was covered head to toe in intricate knots of rope.

It was beautiful.

Something shivered all the way down Jamie’s spine. This–this made him feel something, even more than the tentacles had. More than anything he’d looked at so far had.

It struck in his chest like a bell with piercing clarity. The image was exactly the kind of helplessness he wanted. The kind that made his hands shake and his throat dry with pure desire.

Beneath the image, in the information about the piece was the word Shibari .

Jamie opened another tab and typed in the word. His eyes went wide as he read through the definition, then flicked over to look at the photos. It was a Japanese style bondage, and it was intricate and beautiful, and suddenly Jamie wanted that. Badly. He had no idea why, but there was just something about it. Something that had its hooks in him.

What would it be like to be tied up so prettily, like a work of art? To be completely immobilized like that by whoever did the tying? Jamie knew enough to know that intricate knots and rope work like that had to take time and concentration.

If it were being done to him, he’d be the sole focus of the person—the man—binding him.

All of his attention would be on Jamie.

Jamie squirmed on the couch, his cock already hard. He’d never really had that. Had someone interested in him. He’d always been too busy, too tired, too jittery, working as hard as he could to try to escape his mother, to even really dream of finding a—a partner. He barely knew what he wanted, much less what he liked.

What would it be like to have someone who desired him? Who wanted to… play with him. Someone who was focused only on Jamie.

The thought seared into his brain. Like the mere concept had reached inside him and shaken something loose. The tentacles had been good, but this was–

This was what he’d really been looking for. Shibari . He could practically feel the ghostly sensation against his skin. How they would wrap around him so tightly, hold him and not let go. He wanted it.

“No.” The word fell from his lips as he snapped back to himself. To his living room in his apartment. “No, I don’t–I don’t want that–” There was no one there, but he still spoke the words aloud. Tried to rationalize it to himself.

His eyes drifted back to the screen. He could deny it all he wanted, but another pulse of heat went through him. His hand drifted down to his lap, and the second he touched himself he twitched. He was sensitive, but hard.

“I can’t like this,” he whispered. “It’s–”

The word bondage was like a reverberation in his head. It came with all kinds of dark and dangerous connotations. Things that Jamie had seen in the fringes of his Internet usage, but had stayed away from.

His mother had never cared enough to give him a sex talk, but Jamie knew inherently she wouldn’t approve of something like this. It felt… deviant. Different. Scary.

So why did he want it?

He dropped his phone on the couch beside him and scrubbed a hand over his face. At this rate he was definitely going to have a dream about it. He wanted to regret that, but some part of him simmered with eagerness.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he collapsed back against the couch, his hands falling to his sides. His body was tense, ready. So much for the cozy morning in.

Then something in the corner of the room flickered. It was like an energy blip, but more. Like the air had shifted and something had convalesced suddenly.

Jamie turned his head to stare at the dark spot. The room had gotten dimmer somehow. It was still storming, but the sky hadn’t gotten any darker, he didn’t think. The lamp was still on. Jamie could see it out of the corner of his eye.

But the room was significantly darker than it had been just a few minutes ago. What…?

And now that he was really looking, the shape of the shadow in the corner wasn’t right. It didn’t match the way the light bounced off everything in the room.

He squinted at the shadow. There was something there, something…

The shadow shifted. Instead of a cloud of darkness, out sprouted long, spindly legs. A second later a dozen eyes blinked into existence, luminescent acid green against the pitch dark.

The creature– the spider– stepped forward out of that darkness on massive, horrifying legs. It was taller than he was, taller than any spider ever should be, almost scraping the ceiling as it crept out of the shadows.

It was a monster. A nightmare. His nightmare, come to life.

Fear and the adrenaline slammed into him.

“No, no, no, no,” he breathed, panicked as he fumbled up from the couch on clumsy legs, nearly bashing his knee into the coffee table as he stumbled away. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, couldn’t bear to look away for even a second.

The spider prowled toward him with those long legs. It was just like the dream–the black form and the glowing eyes. It was the same thing that had wrapped its tentacles around him, and held him down.

Except this time, Jamie knew he was awake.

This time, Jamie knew the monster was real.