My hands are shaking and my stomach is squirming as I type this. I want to tell you what happened this morning, but I don’t know where to start.
The beginning would be the logical place, but how do you start at the beginning if you don’t know when the beginning was?
I’ll start with the basics. My husband and I live together in a studio apartment. He’s an aspiring author and I’m a part-time student, i.e., we’re dirt poor. We both work crap jobs to make ends meet until I graduate and/or he finds a publisher.
My husband works third shift at a dog food manufacturing plant. That’s 10 PM to 6 AM. I work as a vet tech at a local animal hospital from 8 AM until 2 PM and then I go to class.
It bums me out that we don’t get to spend more time together, but I know that we’re both working hard to make a life for ourselves.
When my husband comes home on time—he’s always willing to pick up an extra shift—he usually wakes me up in the most wonderful way.
I’m a morning horndog and I love it when he wakes me up with sex. That might sound weird to those of you who aren’t into morning sex, but I love it.
I generally sleep on my side at night, and most mornings I’ll wake up to his fingertips swirling their way across my vulva. Some mornings I’ll wake up to his tongue licking me in long, languorous loops.
He doesn’t always use his tongue, because he knows it’s my favorite, and he likes to tease me. Sometimes he’ll even pretend to be asleep after he makes me orgasm with his fingers and tongue.
God, I love that man.
This morning, I woke up to his tongue. Smiling, I brought my knee up to my chest to give him better access. When I did, I was surprised at how wet I was.
Wet doesn’t begin to describe it; I was soaked.
I let out a soft sigh as his tongue withdrew, then I felt the hot skin of his fingers part the wet folds of my labia and slip deep inside me. He pressed against the front wall of my stomach and I put my hand on my belly, feeling his fingertips work their magic.
My husband knows me. He knows right where I live and breathe.
I smiled again and let out a tiny moan to encourage him. He was getting me there.
His fingers plunged even deeper and one bumped my cervix. I let out a grunt of pain at that. It was strange. He has long fingers and I have a smaller vagina. He’s always so careful about not going too deep.
When both of his fingers rammed into my cervix, I reached my hand behind my ass to grab his wrist and stop him.
My hand never touched his wrist though. My fingers fell upon wet bed sheets, but nothing else.
When that happened, my eyes flew open and I rolled over.
No one was in bed with me, but I could still feel his fingers hammering against my cervix. I kicked off the covers with a scream and looked between my legs.
The bed sheets were soaked with a goopy white slime that led all the way to the foot of the bed.
I jumped out of bed and tried to run for the bathroom, but froze as something clicked in my head. The shiny globs reminded me of the mucous trail you see behind a creeping slug, and the trail went over the edge of the bed and in between where the mattress sat on top of the box springs.
I started dry heaving and turned to the sink. Over the loud urgh-urgh-urgh sounds I made, I heard something splat on the tile right after I felt something inside of me let go.
I looked down at the tile and couldn’t believe what I saw.
It looked like a small skinless, muscular snake. Pale tentacles rimmed in black fell from its mouth, yellowed teeth poked out from its back in a line, and there was a thick sheen of white-streaked mucous covering it. It twitched a couple times, then fell still.
I screamed and ran out of the apartment. I went over to my friend Jessica’s and waited there until my husband got off work. I watched through the window for him. I didn’t want him to walk into that apartment alone.
He came home an hour later and I told him everything before we entered the apartment. He thought I was trying to pull a prank on him. He writes horror so he thought I was trying to scare him.
When we went in, there wasn’t anything on the tile or on the bed sheets. No creature, no mucous trail, nothing.
I snapped a quick picture with my cell before I ran to Jessica’s place, but my husband only glanced at it. The cell cam makes it look much bigger than it actually was.
My husband’s convinced that I’m trying to pull one over on him, but I’m not. I’m terrified right now, but all the questions running through my head are making it hard to focus.
What if all the times my husband got me off in the morning and then pretended to be asleep afterwards were really just those things crawling inside of me?
What if every time I’ve ever jerked awake from one of those tripping or falling dreams, it was my body’s reaction to those creatures crawling amongst the bed sheets?
What if every time I got an itch as I was falling asleep, it was one of the creatures brushing against me?
My husband and I live in California now, but I was raised in Texas. Last Christmas we visited my parents at their new house in Houston, and I remember my husband getting me off one of the mornings then pretending to be asleep.
It also happened on our honeymoon in Hawaii.
And in his dorm room at UT.
My girlfriends have talked about waking up wet and horny from sex dreams before. That’s happened to me, too.
I know that my husband wakes up with a hard-on all the time and sometimes has wet dreams. Are there smaller ones that slip down the hole of his cock? Or larger ones that slide into his ass?
Does this mean that those creatures are in every bed? That they’re everywhere?
I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m going to be sick again.
How long have those things been crawling inside me?
And if I felt two fingers slip into my vagina this morning but only one of the creatures fell out, where’s the second one? And why is my stomach still squirming?