Sleep Paralysis

A nightmare becomes a gay man's dream.

The first night began quietly.

Jair woke to stillness, a silence so complete it pressed against his eardrums. The hum of the refrigerator, the steady creak of pipes—gone. Even the wind outside had stopped. He lay flat on his back, eyes open, chest heavy, the darkness thick as cloth around him.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was awake.

Then he tried to move.

His fingers wouldn’t twitch. His lips stayed glued shut. Panic shot through his body like static electricity, but even that felt trapped under glass. The more he struggled, the heavier the air became—until he realized he wasn’t alone.

Something was in the room. A presence that can be felt from afar. He was all of a sudden held captive.

A pressure feeling near the foot of the bed. A faint scrape of fabric. A breath that didn’t belong to him.

Luis slept beside him, turned away, his breathing steady and deep. Jair wanted to call his name, but the sound caught in his throat.

Then came the whisper.

“Jair…”

The voice was soft, low, and mysteriously female. It carried warmth and distance all at once—like hearing someone call from underwater. He froze. The air trembled. From the corner of his vision, he saw movement: the outline of a figure, faint as mist, standing near the bedpost.

He then felt the only part of his body that was awake: his meaty cock. It began to dance around under the sheets. Jair’s member was stiff and hard, taken over by whatever presence was lurking around.

It wasn’t a trick of the shadows. He could feel her. A wet spot began to appear on his trunks as a mound began to grow bigger and bigger, causing his boxer briefs to almost give way. He looked on as his dick twitched a few times, even though the rest of his body remained frozen. The mood of the dark bedroom was now taking a different tone.

The air changed where she stood—dense, electric, humming. His heart hammered, his dick was fully lit up in excitement, every beat vibrating through a body that refused to move. He tried to rationalize it: a dream, a panic episode, his mind catching fire between sleep and waking.

But when she finally leaned closer, logic dissolved.

The scent of earth and candle smoke filled the room. He could see her now, not fully, but enough to know she was watching him. The curve of a face, the fall of dark hair that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Her massive hooters gave him a faint hint that this was not a typical woman. Nor was she one of his goofy female best friends pulling a prank, as none of them were as pretty as she was. This presence, this woman, this figure was truly something else.

She was beautiful in the way storms are—something to fear, something impossible not to look at. She indeed had him where she wanted him. Close to see the fear and also curiosity in his eyes.

Her whisper brushed against his ear again. “Don’t be afraid. Now’s your time.”

A rush of warmth ran down his spine, causing his cock to pulsate massively. He felt a sudden rush of euphoria that he could only experience with Luis. His hips began to move on their own as though they were eager to fuck something, or someone. It was too much for him. The feelings were alien. A whiff of her odor made him feel something he had never felt before. It was sharp and dizzying. The sensation spread—heart pounding, breath trapped, muscles trembling, though he couldn’t move a muscle.

And just like that, she was gone.

The weight was lifted all at once. His hairy penis began to deflate back to its normal flaccid state. Jair gasped, lungs flooding with air. He sat upright, chest heaving, skin damp with sweat. The room was empty. Only the sound of his heartbeat remained. He then had to check his fuck stick and saw and felt the stickiness. The only physical evidence of the strangeness he felt that night.

He turned to Luis. His boyfriend slept soundly, unaware. Jair reached out, fingers hovering just above his shoulder, then pulled back. He didn’t know what to say, or even what he’d just felt.

The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 3:11 a.m.

He sat there until dawn, staring into the dim blue light, waiting for it to fade.

By morning, he convinced himself it was nothing.

Over breakfast, Luis noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “You look terrible,” he said, nudging Jair’s mug of coffee closer. “Did you stay up all night again or what?”

“Sorta. I just… Couldn’t sleep,” Jair murmured. He didn’t look up. “Weird dreams.”

Luis smiled faintly. “Too many horror podcasts, that’s your problem. I told ya not to listen to that bullshit. All of that can get stuck in your head.”

Jair forced a laugh, but it died in his throat. He watched the sunlight spill through the window, golden and harmless. Everything looked normal again.

But the memory clung to him—the stillness, the whisper, the warmth that had curled through his veins like smoke. What really stuck out for him, though, was how all of that made his dick feel. When he woke up, his morning wood was harder than usual, and Luis wanted some of that. Oddly enough, Jair was not in the mood for a sunrise rump.

Later on that night, when he climbed into bed beside Luis, he left the lamp on. He tried to forget all of the craziness of the previous night. In fact, he decided to give the podcasts a rest and instead tried to focus on himself, and of course, on Luis.

The couple cuddled together as Luis tried to comfort his spooked boyfriend. The gentle caressing gave way to a prolonged kiss, but Jair broke it up. He couldn’t get hard for Luis, and all he could do was give his understanding partner a well-deserved good night kiss.

Jair waited before his hand gently rubbed the shaft of his cock. He was able to get a nice erection going. He felt bad that he was about to fap without inviting his boyfriend to join in. He aimed for Luis’s shoulder but saw that he was already snoring.

The second night came sooner than Jair expected.

He’d told himself it wouldn’t happen again—that what he’d felt had been the edge of a dream, a trick of nerves. Maybe a manifestation of his anxiety about having a new boyfriend. He went through the motions of the day, pretending he believed that. By evening, the lie had started to unravel.

He and Luis watched a movie on the couch. The couple settled on watching a comedy, hopefully to get Jair in a better mood. Luis laughed at the screen; Jair laughed half a beat too late. Every flicker of shadow across the wall made him flinch. When Luis leaned in for a kiss, Jair froze, just for a heartbeat, his pulse stuttering at the memory of that whisper in the dark.

Luis pulled back, puzzled. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jair said. “Just tired.”

“Boo!” Luis tried to startle him before he climbed on top of him. “Am I becoming too spooky for you?” He attempted to make light of the situation as he massaged Jair’s rib cage. He tried to turn him on by traveling up his chest and nibbling on his neck, but Jair had a pale look on his face.

“Nah, it’s not… It’s not you.” Jair reassured him by kissing his hand. “Just tired.”

He wasn’t lying. Exhaustion clung to him like static.

They went to bed early. Jair left the lamp on again, though he didn’t admit why. The soft amber light blurred the corners of the room. Outside, the streetlights flickered against the window blinds.

When sleep came, it was shallow and uneasy. But it finally came. Jair was in the middle of a dream in which he was being pursued by that ghostly woman. He ran as fast as he could, only to stumble upon a somber cemetery. When he was able to get a few more heavy steps into the peaceful graveyard, a tombstone caught his eye. He couldn’t quite read it, as the words didn’t make sense, but once she arrived, it all made sense.

“Here lies your gayness,” she whispered over his head. When Jair turned to see the slab of stone, which then stood taller than before, he saw images of him and his previous boyfriends. He saw himself at the gay pride parade, waving at the spectators like a true out and proud gay man.

It was a daunting scene; he was mourning his homosexuality. He knew it was a dream. He needed to wake up. Wake up. Just wake up! Wake the fuck up…

His eyes finally opened. He woke to silence.

The lamp was still on, but its glow looked dimmer, like something had drained the color from the world. His chest was pinned again. The pressure settled first over his ribs, then his throat.

He tried to turn his head. Couldn’t.

The air thickened until he could hear his own pulse.

Then she spoke.

“You remember me. I laid flowers at the grave just like you wanted.”

But he didn’t want to. He shook his head in disagreement. The more he resisted, though, the more the allure got stronger. His dick was coming back to life. It was able to slither through the peehole of his boxers, and he was amazed how big he actually was. It stood ready. Its veins are fully engorged with his life. Pulsating to every heartbeat.

The voice wasn’t a question. It carried a strange familiarity—like she’d known him long before this.

Jair’s eyes darted toward the sound. She stood nearer this time, the same outline, the same wavering shimmer that distorted the air around her. The same massive hooters that now hang over his face. Her hair hung heavy, glinting faintly in the light. Her scent was now more present and more welcoming.

He wanted to shout for Luis, but his breath wouldn’t obey. The figure leaned closer, until the edge of her form met the edge of the lamp’s glow. For an instant, Jair saw part of her face: lips parted, eyes wide and dark.

Her expression wasn’t cruel. It was searching.

The warmth that rolled off her was almost human. It reached him in waves—heat without touch, weight without pressure.

The fear returned, but softer this time, tangled with something else he couldn’t name. His heart raced so hard he could feel it in his fingertips. His massive erection was ready to explode all over the bedsheets.

She raised her hand as if to touch him. The air pulsed. His breath stuttered when she let her hooters out for him to see. He wanted to move his eyes away, but he couldn’t. Those luscious breasts demanded his full attention.

She then had to grab hold of one of her mounds and lick its perky nipple. Her eyes were burning with lust, and Jair was consumed by it. He felt his scrotum tighten as his pulsating cock gave way to ropes of his musky seed. It looked like an out-of-control hose, spewing all of his life force for her to see.

“There, you see. I am here because you wanted me here. Can’t you see? Look at that cock.” Her nose almost touched his before she scooped up some of his jizz with her finger to lick nice and slow. “You know what to do. It’s time, Jair. It’s time.”

Then the light flickered, and she was gone.

The paralysis broke. Jair shot upright, gulping air. The lamp glowed normally again, steady and warm. Luis stirred beside him, mumbled something incoherent, and rolled over.

Jair sat there, trembling. All wet and sticky as his cock recoiled back inside his underwear. He pressed a hand to his chest and felt his own heartbeat slam against his palm.

When he finally lay back down, he kept his eyes open until morning.

Days passed. The apartment looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Jair began noticing small things—his reflection in the microwave glass turning a fraction slower than he did, the faint smell of burnt matches that lingered in their bedroom even when the windows were open.

Luis asked again if something was wrong. “You’ve been somewhere else lately,” he said one night while they brushed their teeth.

Jair forced a smile. “Just tired,” he started to sound like a broken record.

He didn’t tell him about the whispers he sometimes heard when he closed his eyes. Or how he’d started leaving the hallway light on when Luis wasn’t home.

Sleep came harder each night. He dreaded it, but he couldn’t stay awake forever.

And when the third night came, he almost welcomed it. Jair stopped pretending he wasn’t waiting for her.

He went to bed earlier than usual, though his body resisted sleep. His mind hummed like an exposed wire. Luis had fallen asleep on the couch, still in his work clothes, the television flickering across his face. Jair stood in the bedroom doorway for a long time, watching the faint blue glow dance across the walls.

He didn’t wake Luis. He couldn’t explain why.

Instead, he pulled the curtains shut, leaving only a thin strip of light to carve the darkness. He lay still and waited.

The silence came again, heavy as before. But this time, he wasn’t afraid.

When the paralysis took hold, Jair felt his pulse quicken—not in panic, but in expectation.

The air cooled. The pressure returned, first over his chest, then down to his fingertips. His member came back to life, feeling like a lightning rod. His balls were already heavy with his babies, as it had been a few days since he had the last orgasm during the last time she appeared.

It hadn’t crossed his mind to have sex with Luis all this time. In fact, whether he knew it or not, he was saving his cum for her.

And then she appeared.

This time her form was sharper, as though the distance between worlds had thinned. Her eyes, shadowed and soft, caught the faint light leaking through the curtain. They weren’t monstrous eyes. They were curious. They were wanting.

She hovered at his side, her gaze never leaving him. “Are you afraid of this? Are you afraid of me?” she asked, though her lips barely moved.

“I’m not,” he thought. He wasn’t sure if he’d spoken aloud or if she’d simply heard him believe it.

She smiled faintly, the curve of her mouth almost tender. “You called me,” she said again.

Jair tried to move, to reach toward her, but the paralysis bound him like invisible ropes. His throat tightened with the effort. His cock, though, was a different story.

“Why?” he managed to think.

Her answer came not in words, but in feeling—a wave of warmth, an ache that rippled through him until the edges of the world blurred. She also pointed to his massive boner.

When he woke, the bed was cold beside him. Luis wasn’t there.

He found him in the kitchen, sipping coffee, bleary-eyed. “You were talking in your sleep,” Luis said, not meeting his gaze. “Sounded like… I don’t know. Like you were whispering to someone.”

Jair’s stomach twisted as he gulped. “What did I say?”

Luis shook his head. “Didn’t catch it. Just your name, over and over.”

Jair forced a smile and poured himself coffee, his hands trembling.

After Luis left for work, he sat at the kitchen table, staring at the grain of the wood until the sunlight shifted. Then he opened his laptop.

He searched for “sleep paralysis haunting,” then “female ghost dreams,” then “succubus.” The results were predictable: folklore, urban legends, pages written by self-proclaimed demonologists. He scrolled through photos of shadowy figures and blurry faces. None of them looked like her. She was, as far as he remembers, pretty.

Hours passed. He forgot to eat.

By afternoon, the apartment felt smaller. Every sound made him twitch—the hum of the fridge, the ticking of the wall clock, the muted noise of traffic outside. When Luis called to say he’d be home late, Jair barely registered the words. He was already staring at his own reflection in the dark screen of his laptop.

His reflection stared back a moment too long as though it was intentionally staring at him.

That night, he wrote in a notebook before bed. A list:

• Time of paralysis: 2:47 a.m.

• Sensation: cold air, heartbeat loud.

• Smell: smoke, candle wax.

• Emotion: not fear. Something else.

• Dick: hard.

• Boobs: interesting.

He paused, pen hovering over the page. Then, almost without thinking, he wrote: She feels familiar.

He didn’t know why.

When the paralysis came again, it was gentler. He didn’t resist.

She stood beside the bed, her outline clearer now, as if she were gaining shape through his belief alone. The faint smell of rain lingered in the air.

“Who are you?” he whispered—or thought he whispered.

Her voice was low, distant, vibrating through the dark. “You already know, silly boy.”

He woke with the taste of her words still in his mouth, as though he’d spoken them himself. For the first time, he wasn’t sure where the haunting ended and he began. The decision came suddenly, sometime between dusk and full dark.

Jair couldn’t bear another night of guessing whether the woman was real—or real only to him. So he set up a camera.

He found an old tripod in the closet, brushed the dust off, and positioned it by the nightstand, angled toward the bed. Luis watched from the doorway, a towel draped around his shoulders.

“You’re really doing this?” Luis asked, half-amused, half-concerned as shown by the position of his eyebrows.

Jair kept his tone light, since Luis only knew about half of what was going on. He didn’t know about the lascivious details of the paralysis. “Just want to see what happens when I sleep. Maybe it’s sleepwalking.”

“Sleepwalking,” Luis repeated, skeptical and a bit annoyed. He stepped closer and touched Jair’s shoulder. “Babe, you sure this isn’t just stress? You’ve been… somewhere else lately.”

Jair forced a smile. “If it’s stress, I’ll see that too.”

Luis hesitated, then kissed his forehead and left the room. “Don’t stay up all night staring at that thing,” he said. “It might take you away from me.”

The door closed.

Jair finished setting the camera, the red recording light a small, steady heartbeat in the dimness. He turned off the lamp, slid under the covers, and stared into the dark.

For a long time, nothing happened.

He could hear Luis moving around in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, the faint sound of running water. Then the noise faded. The silence crept back in, slow and deliberate.

His limbs began to stiffen. The familiar weight pressed down on his chest. He tried to blink; his eyes barely moved.

The air shifted.

At the edge of the room, the shadows stirred. She slowly stepped out from them—taller this time, sharper around the edges, as though the darkness itself were shaping her. Her meaty tits are fuller this time around.

Jair’s pulse roared in his ears. His dick ripped through his strained drawers. Looking meaner and with a purpose

The spirit tilted her head. “You still don’t understand,” she said softly.

Her voice was the same: warm, low, like something remembered.

“What do you want?” he thought, unsure if the words left his lips.

Her eyes glowed faintly, the color of candlelight through smoke. “You,” she said.

She moved closer. The room dimmed further, though the red light of the camera still blinked in the corner. Jair could feel the shift in the air—the hum of energy, the vibration in his skin. Every breath seemed to draw her closer.

Her face came into focus.

She wasn’t a stranger.

The shape of her jaw, the curve of her mouth—it was him. Softened, mirrored, but unmistakable.

A tremor ran through him. His heartbeat slowed, like the world was holding its breath.

Her hand hovered near his face. The air between them felt electric. “Let it go,” she whispered. “You can’t move because you decided not to. Let your true self come out.”

He felt a sudden urge to move. Little by little, movement by movement, he was able to let loose. Finally, he was freed from the shackles of his paralysis. He held her in his arms and laid her in the bed, appreciating every bit of her feminine presence.

Her fingers were so delicate and precise as they parted her pussy lips for him to gaze. His eyes became a fury of evil lust as he felt his body grow in size, his muscles gaining mass, his voice deepening, and his dick growing to an appropriate length and girth, fitting for a straight man.

Jair didn’t know how or why, but his dick was plunged into her pussy, making her give Jair a wicked smile, which made the dim room glow. He fucked her like a schoolboy losing his virginity for the first time. Trying desperately to hold on to her, feeling every inch of her peachy nakedness.

“Yes, there you go.” The ghostly female grabbed onto his head, messing up his thick hair, while his mouth went to work on her bust. “There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.” Her hands lightly massaged his asscheeks as they clapped away.

Her pussy gripped his hard shaft, sending awesome shocks that he had never felt before. His eyes were held captive by hers. Finally realizing what all this meant. He felt big. He felt strong. He felt robust. As his dick continued to pound her into submission, he felt the urge to come.

It was intense as he went over the edge. The sound of his wet dick slapping her jizzed insides echoed in the still room.

As he was coming down from the rush, he felt his body fall back to the same bed. Then the darkness folded in, and everything vanished.

He woke to morning light.

The paralysis was gone, but the memory lingered—sharp, too real to be a dream. He turned immediately to the camera. The red light had stopped blinking hours ago.

Hands trembling, he rewound the footage.

The video showed him sleeping. Still, at first. Then shifting. His eyes opened slowly, the pupils huge and glassy. He sat up, spine rigid, staring into the darkness.

There was no spirit.

No figure at the edge of the bed.

Only Jair, whispering his own name under his breath, over and over, voice rising and falling like a prayer.

Then, on the video, he reached out—fingers stroking the air as though someone invisible stood before him. He noticed his hard cock swinging all over, casting a shadow on the wall. He then saw how he forcefully fucked the air in front of him. It didn’t take long before he saw strings of hot semen spew from his pulsating cock. The camera captured his breath fogging faintly in the cold air, captured his soft murmur: “You were always here. I was always here. I am fucking straight. That’s me. It’s time. It’s time.”

Jair paused the video, staring at the frozen frame. His face on the screen looked wrong—distant, detached, lips parted in reverence.

He felt dizzy.

The apartment seemed to shift around him, walls breathing in and out. He stumbled to the mirror above the dresser. His reflection stared back, pale and shaken.

“You,” he whispered, almost expecting the glass to answer.

For a heartbeat, he thought it did. The reflection was of him, but it wasn’t him.

The faintest breath of fog spread across the mirror’s surface—there and gone again.

Jair backed away slowly, the silence swelling around him like water rising in a glass.

That night, he didn’t tell Luis what he’d seen. Or how he felt about the relationship at that moment. He just sat at the table long after midnight, watching the reflection of the empty hallway shimmer faintly in the windowpane.

He knew, with terrible certainty, that the camera hadn’t lied.

After he sat on the edge of the bed where once he and Luis had made sweet gay love, a pair of soft girly arms wrapped around his shoulders. It was her again. This time, he wasn’t asleep. He was awake. She took him by the hand and led him out of the room. As the door to the apartment swung open, a huge light overtook Jair. She took him by the hand to a new beginning.

The haunting wasn’t something outside him. It wasn’t even a haunting.

It was something that was yearning to get out.

Don’t look back, unless you want to.