He hated haunted houses. How on earth did he get roped into this night? It is their bi-monthly gathering and unfortunately, his friends had found a haunted house that was open in December. What happened to the plan for a few drinks at a bar with old Christmas music, or maybe a piano bar? Was he getting too old for this kind of thing? He sucked it up and tried to rally as they gave their tickets to the slightly ghoulish Santa Claus and walked into the house.
He was already bored. He knew it was an attitude adjustment that he needed. It was Christmas time, not Holloween. He just couldn’t get into the mood for this. It was the usual fake screams, hanging cobwebs, furry mechanical spiders crawling toward him. He didn’t even jump. Everything looked fake, felt fake. He wasn’t even sure where his friends had gone. He was moving slowly through the house and lacked the enthusiasm they had to hurry through the house.
He pushed through the long grey four-inch wide panels that hung in front of the opening from ceiling to floor. They were heavy. He pushed through them and heard them knock against each other with a thwack. He turned behind him and saw that on the other side of the panels a door had slammed shut. He didn’t remember seeing the door on the other side. He faced forward again and realized he had entered into some kind of maze. He pushed on panels that felt like wet felt to try and get to the end of the maze. The first three moved easily and he found himself in an open room. The lights had been dim but started flashing slowly and then began to flicker faster and brighter. The air that had been still was now moving on a breeze he didn’t notice before. There was one mirror that went from ceiling to floor. He pushed on it but it didn’t move. The breeze was getting stronger. It was swirling in all directions. His hair was moving and brushed over his eyes. He swiped his hand across his face to clear his vision and saw his reflection in the mirror. The mirror seemed to wave and move, almost as if it was melting to the floor in a flow. The wind was drying his eye and he was having a hard time seeing clearly. The breeze was much stronger now and whipping past his ears.
“Take the third panel”. He turned around quickly and looked for who was there. He was in the room alone. Completely alone. It must have been the breeze. He was disoriented and tried to push on the panels. None of them would move. The breeze became a wind at this point. He was alone but kept hearing the words over and over again… “take the third panel.” He kept turning to try and see where it was coming from but he found himself alone at every turn. Now there was fog. Where was the fog coming from? This was the craziest haunted house he had ever been in. He had to admit that it wasn’t what he expected. He kept hearing the voice telling him to take the third panel but none of the panels moved. The lights flickering, the wind swirling around his head, the whisper in his ear, over and over again.
He leaned against the wall and felt a light pressure on his chest. He blinked to clear his eyes again, surely someone else was there. The staff wasn’t supposed to touch people. What was going on? He felt the pressure again. Two separate presses on his chest, like hands. The pressure moved from his chest down to his ribs. It was a slow move of pressure and it felt good. He kept blinking to try and see who was in the room with him. He looked down at his chest and saw the wrinkles in his shirt and there was an imprint of two hands. He could see the imprint move from his chest to his ribs and back up to his chest. He felt the pressure of being touched. He was still blinking and shaking his head to try and make sense of what was happening. This couldn’t be right! What was going on?
He looked down at his chest. One by one he watched as the buttons on his shirt twisted through the slot that held them and exposed his chest. He wanted to move but he couldn’t. He was pressed against the wall and couldn’t move. The pressure on his chest was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was strange but familiar. Even more strange was that he didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to be released from the pressure and grip he was under. He stopped looking around to see who was with him and was mesmerized by the buttons on his shirt slowly releasing one at a time. The last button was released and he took in a breath. The pressure was now on his entire body. He felt it from his chest down to his hips. It was as if something or someone was leaning against him. The fog was getting thicker and it was getting harder for him to see. It became less important to him to see who or what was with him. The pressure against his body was strong. He tried to move his hands. He lifted them and tried to reach out in front of him. Slowly his hands were being pressed over his head and against the panel he was leaning on. He tried to move them down again but he could not. They were held there. What held them he didn’t know. Again, he realized he didn’t care. His hands pressed against the wall over his head. The pressure against his body. The buttons of his shirt open. He blinked again and looked down at the buttons again. He felt a strange vibration. Looking down he saw his zipper slowly open. It was slow and oddly over the wind he heard each tooth of the zipper let go of its counterpart. One at a time, he could almost count them. He wanted to move, not to stop it but to figure out what the hell was happening. He still couldn’t move his hands. Pinned against the wall he watched as the zipper reached the bottom of his jeans. The fog was still swirling and he tried once again to see through it and see who or what was with him. The pressure of whatever presence was with him was more intense. Stronger now on a different level. he felt the pressure on his hips now. It was steady and warm. He felt himself getting hard. This should have scared him but it felt good. He no longer cared what or who was pressing against him. The pressure becomes a grip on his cock. He was hard and throbbing instantly. He leaned his head back against the panel and shut his eyes. Pinned against the panel he felt the grip tighten and then loosen. He tried to move his hips away but he couldn’t. He was helpless, pinned, stuck. He didn’t care. He was getting dizzy and light headed. The pressure wasn’t uncomfortable. It was pleasant. He was confused but not frightened. He wanted to know what was happening but he didn’t want it to stop. His head was spinning but he felt excited. His cock was hard now. The tugging and rubbing continued. The fog around his body was thick and there was a strange mist that was landing lightly on his face. He kept his eyes closed now and his head back against the panel.
The touching and the pressure was gentle. In a strange way, it was calming. There was nothing inside him that said he should be afraid. He let himself get lost in the pressure against his body and the tugging and rubbing of his cock. Everything happening to him was suspending time. The pressure started to ease up now. The rubbing stopped. the tugging stopped. He opened his eyes and look down at his body and felt the zipper move in reverse toward the top of his jeans. The buttons on his shirt slowly started to slip through the slots they belonged to. His shirt refastened, his jeans fastened, the pressure on his body lessened. He looked forward through the fog as it got lighter and thinner. The wind became a slow breeze again, the whispers stopped, the mist stopped. He looked forward and in front of him was the mirror. It no longer looked like waves from ceiling to floor. It was a solid mirror. He walked toward the mirror and pressed his hands against it. The mirror moved to the side and the backyard of the house was three steps down. He saw his friends waiting for him.
“Man, where have you been, we have been waiting forever for you?”
Uh, I got stuck in the room with the fog and mist and stuff… you won’t believe…”
“Dude, what fog?