In Dreams (Patreon)

Another of the snippets from the high tier.  One more is left in this batch! 

Everything has a support group in this day and age.  Blame it on "PC Culture" or increased awareness of mental health issues or bored people seeking attention, all depending on your age and social status.  I see it as a mixture of all of those at once.

Old metal chairs form a ring in the center of an aging American Legion building.  Cracked folding tables lay against the wall beneath a faded banner congratulating someone named Bruce Willerson for their 88th birthday.  I can almost smell the remnants from the potluck.  It'd be scalloped potatoes and a million different casseroles and meatloaves and jello with fruit floating inside.

The older woman who runs this group, Judith, has half the lights on in order to give a more relaxed atmosphere but it just enhances the feeling of impending decay and death and-

No.  No.  That's just bleed-over.  I have to tell myself that.

Judith checks her watch, glances towards the double doors at the entrance and shuffles a few papers.  It's in the evening, well after work yet she still wears a gray skirt and jacket with little black shoes that almost match but not quite.  There are tiny bows on the shoes.  She seems severe but that may just be me jumping to conclusions.  The other four people are just as restless and glance around occasionally but mostly keep their heads down.

Except for Simon.  30's, I think, dressed sloppily and he can barely sit still.  He's practically bursting with the need to talk.  And he keeps staring at me.  And Amanda, a young girl sitting on my left, as far from Simon as she can be.

"Well," Judith says finally.  "I think this is all for tonight so we can begin."

"I have so much to share tonight," Simon says, talking before Judith can finish speaking.  He's vibrating in his chair with his hands clutched against the seat beneath him.  

"We have someone new with us tonight, Simon," she tells him, only slightly ruffled.  "Why don't you begin, Becca?"

That's me.  Uuuugh, I'm not sure I should've done this.  I found the group while browsing a listing of local meet-ups at 1 am, once more unable to sleep well.  I wasn't sure exactly what I'd wanted but this wasn't what I was looking for initially when I stared red-eyed at my laptop.  I was just thinking I could find a book club or a walking or hiking group.

I guess I was just surprised to see a group dedicated to discussions of dreams.

"I'm Becca, hiiiiii," I say weakly, grinning with an enthusiasm I absolutely don't feel.  I nervously scratch through the near stubble hiding beneath my cropped hair and around to the very short hairs at the back of my head and then down to massage my nape.  An old habit that only seems to go away when I let my hair grow out.  My coworkers give me a hard time about the shorter hair, though.  They say I should be wearing an infinity scarf and selling real estate like a pseudo-Karen.  It's fucking not a "Karen" haircut.

"I've never done one of these before," I profess, playing with my fingers while focusing on Judith.  I kinda want Simon to butt in and go first but I also don't because he's a creep and it's setting off my creep-dar.

"We're a small group," Judith calmly says.  "Just start where you feel comfortable."

"Ahhh," I sigh and my hand is scratching the back of my head again.  Silky, smooth black hairs like-

"I've had these dreams since I was a kid," I say, crossing my short legs in front of me, ankles together.  "I don't remember when they started but the first time I can clearly remember it is when I was in the 3rd grade.  It's windy and I'm in a wide, beautiful field of grass and flowers.  Mountains in the distance, like I'm sitting in the center of a gigantic cracked bowl.  And I'm just sitting there.  Picking flowers.  Never moving.  Never turning around.  Just singing and picking flowers."

The others seem restless and bored, waiting their turns to speak without caring much about what I have to say.  Judith is listening, though and I'm on a roll now so I don't care.

"There's breathing in the background.  I can't hear it at first but it builds over the course of the dream.  It's powerful.  Almost like a steam engine.  Rough and huffing when I can finally hear it.  The wind picks up, flattening the grass and flowers around me while the sun starts to set, always behind the tallest peak in the distance.  I feel like I should be scared but I'm not.  Not even when I feel it behind me and everything's so dark.  There's light, shifting and crackling like a fire.  Behind me.  And the labored, unnatural breathing.  It's so warm.  I want to turn but I can't.  The shadows from the mountains streak out along the ground as they grow long, like fingers trying to get me.  They feel ominous.  I don't know why they do but the creepy sounding thing behind me doesn't."

"Were you molested by someone?" Simon asks, rocking in his chair.  "That sounds like what-"

"Simon!" Judith says sharply.  "You've been warned before.  Let her finish.  This isn't an interrogation or an interpretation and she didn't ask your opinion.  Don't be crass.  Please continue, Becca."

"It's alright," I lie.  "It almost always ended there.  I'd try to step back from the shadows or turn around but, I couldn't.  I told my foster parents and social worker about it eventually and they had me see a doctor who gave me all sorts of pills to try.  And they worked until almost a year ago.  It was the same dream but I was older in it.  Everything else was the same.  Exactly the same as I remembered it.  Every detail came to me suddenly and I could feel everything.  I could smell the grass and the wind and the sweat-"

Ah.  I look to the side, away from Amanda.  I guess I don't need to mention any of that part.

"A week ago, I was able to turn around for the first time.  It was complete darkness.  The light that was at my back was gone but I could still feel it in a strange way.  I reached out and touched it.  Soft fur, I think.  Muscles.  Skin.  And, that's it.  I wake and I can't ever go back to sleep once I get to that point."

That was definitely not it but it was what I was willing to share.

Simon's jaw muscles bulged outward.  He wanted to talk so bad but Judith shot him a warning glance.

"Is there anything else you'd like to share?" Judith asks kindly.

"No, that's- that's it," I tell her, scratching the back of my neck.  "Someone else should have their turn."

"Amanda?" Judith prompts.

"Sure," the girl says.  She's probably just a couple years younger than me.  Fresh out of high school or almost graduated, I think.

She rambles on with stuttering awkwardness but I do my best to listen since it's polite.  It's all saccharine nonsense that makes me wonder why she's here.  Something about living in a dollhouse with a plastic family and giant butterflies swarming outside.  Big colorful things.  The dad is always sitting on the couch while the mom is in the kitchen and her little brother is in his room.  She fidgets and rubs her wrist while she tells it but then runs out of steam, her voice growing more and more quiet as she shrinks into herself.

A middle-aged woman named Hazel goes next.  Judith is obviously skipping Simon.  It's petty but I appreciate the move.  The man is almost leering at Amanda and me.

"I spoke to my mother again," Hazel begins.  She's beaming with her arms crossed over the purse that sits in her lap.  The clothes she wears looks like she's stolen them from a magazine decades old.  Something vapid you'd see in a housewife's magazine titled "Your Sunday Best", completely with a little hat and little white gloves.  Her smile is almost as creepy as Simon's smile.

"She came down in a beam of light," the woman continues.  "I could hear the trumpets, oh yes, the trumpets high above when the sky parted for her, yes.  Her eyes were blue and she was so much at peace.  She said she was proud of me and she loved me.  And God loves me.  She said she wanted to share everything she learned but she couldn't, no.  No, she couldn't.  She looked so beautiful and smelled like honey and vanilla and sweet lemon meringue.  That was my favorite pie and she used to make it for me when I was good, yes.  I wanted to ask about Daddy but I'm not brave enough yet.  I know I will be soon but I'm not yet."

The woman goes on for a while more but finishes strongly, praying she meets her mother again soon.  

In between Judith and Hazel is a gray haired man with a belly that bulges behind a shirt and sweater.  He's not obese but just seems like he's let his diet run a little faster than his exercise routine.  If that exists at all.  I can see pain in his eyes.  When Judith calls for him, he just shakes his head as if he doesn't trust himself to hold it together.

Simon wastes no time, not even waiting to be called.

"I was at a bar again," he says.  Judith's lips compress and I know I'm in for fun.  "Just really bumpin', you know?  There was music and all of these women.  Some were with their husbands or boyfriends and even one or two girlfriends but they'd get close to me to order a drink and just, their panties would just drop.  You know, and I don't mind.  I'd see their husbands or girlfriends in the back looking pissed but unable to do anything because their girl is just rubbing herself on me like I'm throwin' off some major-"

He looks over at Amanda and his brain switches course for a second.

"Wanted me, you know. Couldn't get enough.  I get a lot of play in real life so I know how to work it, right?  But they just all pile on top of me hard enough that I can't breathe and they still don't stop.  It gets- it gets pretty, uhh, sexual after that but that part stands out, being smothered.  And I still think, you know, I still think it means I'm not meant to be with my wife, you know?  I think it's a pretty clear sign that she's smothering me and there's all these other women out there-"

"Simon," Judith says.  She's exasperated.  I think maybe she made him go last since she knew she wouldn't be able to deal with him.  "This isn't a marital therapy session."

"Hey, I'm just sharing my dream, you know?" he tells her, tapping a rapid-fire tempo out on his leg while stealing glances at Amanda.  "And you've said before that we're free to say what we think is happening.  Why it's happening, you know?  And that's why."

"But, Simon," Judith sighs.  "You've done the same over the past three weeks.  If you're having problems with your marriage, there are better outlets than our group."

"Ah, no, it's fine," Simon says, bouncing from side to side in his chair with his hands clenched to the bottom of his seat once more.  He's staring at me now.  "It's fine.  I just feel like I'm wasting myself on her but you don't want to hear that, it's fine. You know?  It's just my dreams are all centered around that and I think that means something."

They bicker back and forth a few more times until Judith wraps up the session.  I'm surprised she doesn't add her own dreams but I'm not sure if she's just hosting the sessions or one of the participants.

"I hope the other five join us next week," she says before standing and grabbing her chair.  "And, please, if you're willing to share more or to have others give their thoughts on the meanings of your dreams, don't be afraid to ask."

"I mean, I mean, I wanted to hear thoughts," Simon grumbles, his downcast eyes sliding towards Amanda as the girl puts her chair away.

"We'll meet again in a week and I'll send out an email reminder before then.  Have a good night, everyone and I hope your dreams are pleasant!"

---

Noise and bright lights that move more slowly than they should.  The guy next to me lifts a finger towards the lady bartender in the suit and tie and I knock back my shot with a hiss.

I know the bartender.  Sally.  She knows me, too, and that's kinda depressing.  I guess there are some people in the world proud to be considered a regular at their local bar but, for me, it's just an embarrassment.  Probably not a great look when I'm with a different guy every week.

But that's what the alcohol's for: drowning the shame.

And the dreams.

Ah, shit.  I can't remember his name.  John?  Joe...seph?  Jacob.  Maybe Jacob.

Another shot slides over to me, surrounded in a halo of silvery light.  I start to grab it but something pricks at my remaining consciousness and I use what little focus I have left to stare at a table in the corner of the room.  There's a guy there, nursing a beer.  I know him.  I know I know him.  

A voice next to me.  I half turn but look back.  Where do I know him from?

The voice again.

"What?" I ask.

He's gone.  The table's empty but for the half-filled glass of beer.

"-said 'd'ya want to go back to my place?'" the guy next to me asks.  George?  Joshua?

"Yeah," I say, knocking back the shot.  I reach for my purse but it's not there and the panic is sudden but muted through the haze of alcoholism.  "Fuckin', where'd I-"

It's in my lap.  I frown at it and grab my wallet but the guy touches my arm and says something about already having paid so that's fine.  I just grab some bills and drop them for Sally and then stand, grabbing the guy's arm when the room threatens to high five my face.

He talks and I give half-hearted grunts until we reach a cab.  I can't remember the drive but then I'm awake and walking up stairs, my arm over his shoulder.

"-you're okay with this?" he asks, looking into my face.

"Yeah, yeah yeah.  Let's do it.  Let's fucking do it," I tell him.  "Up, up, to your room.  Show me your diiiiiick."

He laughs and I laugh and then groan and lean into him, following him when he goes inside, shuffling down a hallway and another flight of stairs.  Feels like I have lead in my shoes.  

My purse drops to the ground when I step into his apartment and I shrug my shoulders to get out of my thin jacket.  The room spins so I touch the wall and sliiiiiiiide until I'm on the floor and it's so goddamn comfortable that I curl up, protesting quietly when he reaches under me and lifts me.  

We collapse in his bed and I flail around to undress, pushing my pants off but leaving my top on.  Body's on auto-pilot and I grind on him, suddenly horny when I see his dick.  Fingers on his chest, rubbing back and forth, biting my lip when it presses between me.  I think I say something but, fuck, everything's spinning and my head is buzzing and I'm kinda getting into it.

But he's not getting hard.  I grab his hands and put them on my tits where he fumbles with them, squeezing them over and over while saying how he's gonna fuck me raw.  And still, nothing.  

"Shit," he says finally.  "Had too much to drink, I think."

So, I sigh and lean in.  "You could go down on me."

"Dunno, really feeling the shots," he tells me, crossing his arm over his face.  

Well, it wouldn't be the first time and won't be the last, I'm sure.  I lay down and he turns, useless cock against my ass, still wet from sliding against me.  I wriggle hopefully against him but he just holds me tight without pushing back.

The line between reality and sleep blurs.

---

Wind whips around me, tugging on the ends of my dress and rifling my short hair.  I gasp, shielding my eyes from the sun hanging just above eye level.  Grass and flowers wave before, twisting left and right, raising for a moment and then flattening once more.

The chill air seeps beneath my clothes so I rub my arms together against it and press my legs together.  

I'm still wet.  I feel it against the insides of my thighs, where they meet my crotch and I remember my one night stand.  

Harry.  His fucking name was Harry.  

The sun's already lower, hovering just above the impossibly tall jagged peaks at the other side of the world.  Golden light highlights massive red veins on the mountains.

It starts as a huff.  A brief whinny almost lost in the roaring wind.  I should turn and look.  I should.  But I can't.  God, I can't.  I can't look at it.  Tears well from my eyes, pulled forth by the gusts surrounding me and their frozen chills make me gasp.  

Louder now.  Thunder rumbles over the landscape as the spires rimming my dream world pierce the sun and the fingers stretch outward.

Puffing and huffing, the ground vibrating hard enough that I feel it in my teeth.  I'm so fucking cold that I feel the the seed of its heat even from this distance.  A spark of warmth that grows as it approaches.

Shadows stretch over the plains, snaking along the flat earth in their attempts to pull me back.  I want to move away from them but I'm rooted to the spot.  Frozen in place.

Darkness descends like a veil over a bride's apprehensive face, uncertain of the future that approaches.  And, still, the massive hand reaches for me, the shadows somehow darker even than the twilight enveloping the world.

I can't- I can't catch my breath.  The cold reaches into my throat to burn it and I'm terrified.  

Warmth surrounds me, breaking the ice and I fall to my knees, bending forward into a kneeling fetal position to conserve the little body heat I have left.  That familiar fire crackles and the tips of the black, reaching fingers split, cut by the light being cast behind me. 

I have to turn.  I have to turn around now.  I unfurl, hands on my thighs, surrounded by shadows in an oasis of red light.  The darkness bends and snaps back but its efforts are ceaseless.  Inevitable.

Finally, after ages, I turn and face the darkness.  There's no fire or light but it somehow still circles me, protecting me from the void.  My hand reaches out to touch powerful muscles and soft, thin hair, too long to be human hair.  Too much of it.  It doesn't speak as I caress it, sliding my palm against the silky smoothness.  Its thighs twitch and then lift, pulling my hand away as it stomps the ground.

Reaching again, I gasp and snatch my hand back.  And then, more slowly, reach out once more.  

Jesus Christ.  

I'm pretty sure I'm touching its testicles and they're huge.  The balls within move in my grasp and the skin itself is thick and loose.  Fuuuuck.  If that's the case-

My hand goes higher and bumps into its very erect cock.  Its very erect massive cock, so warm and thick in my hand.  The creature doesn't seem to flinch when I circle it and my fingers barely touch together.  I slide up and now he moves, another little stomp and a loud whinny that rumbles the air like a subwoofer.

I feel wetness near the tip and my thumb brushes the ridged head.

Well.  Wellllll.

It's not human, I know that.  And yet, I'm starting to get turned on again.  I open my hand and touch the flattened head of his dick.  It's covered in pre-cum, warm and sticky, and there's a bulge where his- his- whatever the hell they call that part on the guy's cock where it's slit.  The pee hole.

I-

I kinda want to taste him.  My hand trails down my stomach and I grit my teeth when I touch my clit.  Smearing my hand on the head of his dick, I grip his cock once more and rub up and down, coating him with his own cum.  Veins bump against my hand and I have to squeeze my thighs when I picture it inside of me.

I lean forward and he touches me for the first time in my life.  A wide, powerful hand grips my hair, holding me in place.

Something important is happening.  His unspoken words hang in the suddenly still air.

You can't return from this.

I know I'm back in bed, in some stranger's apartment, dreaming a dream I've had since I was a child.   Yet, I know it's something more.  My whole purposeless life streams out dimly behind me as if calling for me to return and the shadows hammer the invisible wall cast by his very presence.

The fingers gently knead my short hair but the hand falls away when I push forward, mouth open, to kiss the round head of the creature's cock, coating my mouth and cheeks in the new pre-cum leaking from the tip.  My tongue circles my lips before I open and push my head down.  My jaw clicks painfully as I try to take him in my mouth.  The warm flesh compresses slightly and I push into it.  My cheeks and throat bulge and I moan, nearly gagging as I draw back and then push down again.

My finger circles my clit and I breathe through my nose as I stroke him with one hand while pleasuring him with my mouth.  I feel wild from it.  His hand reaches for me again and it only makes me more enthusiastic.  My finger slips between my pussy lips as I push down, gagging briefly, and pull back.  I swallow spit and cum with every motion and the saltiness of it fills my senses.

I feel his muscles tensing.  

Oh god.  I don't think I can handle him cumming in my mouth.  I pull off but he holds me tight.

His cock swells, forcing my jaw apart as he unloads within me.  I swallow what I can and the rest leaks from my lips.  Swallowing.  Swallowing.  Moaning and rubbing myself faster while still swallowing.  Filled by his seed.  It spreads within me and the cold evaporates from the heat coursing down my throat.

I try to scream when my own orgasm hits me but I'm full of him.

I look up by reflex.

For the first time in all of these years, I see his face, a second before the darkness washes over me.

---

"God," I groan, rolling from the bed.  

My stomach roils as I fumble in the gloom of the bedroom.  Falling to my hands and knees, I swallow hard and stand, hand against the wall to guide me and keep me from stumbling.  I rush as fast as I can, stepping into the kitchen and then turning and passing it until I reach the bathroom.

I close the door by shoving with my ass while flicking the light on.  The toilet is mercifully clean, thank god, and I kneel before it as I vomit.  Cold sweat breaks out along my body.

Dark black hairs pierce the sweat lining the nape of my neck when they emerge from the skin in a staggered line that spreads down to my shoulders.  

I shiver and shake my head.  One hand on the side of the toilet and the other reaches up to massage my neck, wetting the new hairs with sweat and rubbing them back and forth until they lay flat on my skin.  

When the nausea passes, I groan and push myself up, trying to avoid looking myself in the eyes in the mirror facing me.  A pallid girl with gray rings around her eyes stares back at me before I duck my head and turn the water on.  Cold water splashes against my face and then I cup some in my hand to gargle with, spitting out mouthfuls until the acidic taste is nearly gone.

My eyes press against their sockets, bulging subtly against my eyelids.  I sigh, laying the top of my head against the mirror with my hands on both sides of the sink.  My dilated pupils open and the edges drag outward as they grow oblong.  The motion drags my irises with him, consuming the whites of my eyes until they're a narrow halo around my soft, brown eyes.  My already thick eyelashes double, sliding out from the ends of my eyelids to curl over my slightly protruding eyes.

Gargling once more, I turn and crack the door open, slipping through and using the thin bar of light to hunt for my clothes, padding through the apartment on soft socks.

The entire inside of my thighs are slick.  I reach down in shock to touch my pussy and feel it swollen and hot against my fingers.

"Fuck!" I whisper loudly after gasping.  The lips are incredibly sensitive and, now that I'm aware of it, they rub against my thighs, forcing me to whimper as I waddle through the room.

I bend for my panties and then catch myself with one hand on the bed when my back cracks painfully loud.  Harry stirs, mumbling and smacking his lips before his soft snores continue.  As slowly and carefully as possible, I raise myself, waiting for the pain I fully expect to come after apparently tweaking my back.

It never does and I stand, twisting experimentally as a tiny bone deep within my waist twitches in newfound freedom.  Strands of muscle begin to surround it as I grab my pants and carefully slip into my clothes, biting my teeth when they press between my legs.  

Something wobbles above Harry.  I freeze and turn to face it but it twists in my eyesight, refusing to be constrained to my observable reality.  Soft whispers touch my ears and a voice pleads beneath the wordless voices.  I can feel the anxiety radiating from it.  Stress.  And a hint of fear.

It draws me in and I take a step forward while breathing deeply.  A thread breaks from the blob and it snakes towards me.  I moan when it reaches me and the thing floating above Harry solidifies.  He twists in his sleep while whimpering but I spin the thread and the darkness grows before floating down to cover him while pulsating.  Holding him in place.  

And I make it happy because the emotions twist in my core, feeding me.  The nausea blows away and everything takes on a fierce clarity.  I rub my teeth with my tongue and moan, pulling the thread harder until the thing covers his face.  

More.  I need more.

Virulent yellow streaks fill my eyes, branching outward like sudden cracks in a mirror.  My breath is hot and I pull harder, hungry for more.

It snaps and I collapse to my knees, hands before me.  My pussy is soaking into my panties and I claw at my chest and down to my stomach with a hissing groan.

Whatever filled me fades, bitten to pieces and I'm left empty, blinking bulging brown eyes shot through with unnatural, radioactive merigold that appears to fizz from end to end, as if a never ending fire coursed through their microscopic lengths.

I take a moment to collect myself and then push up.  He's curled into a tight ball and, in the fading clearness I felt earlier, I can see tears on his cheeks.

My shoes and purse are by the door so I grab them and my jacket and finish dressing.

The hallway outside the apartment is refreshingly cool.  Only now do I check the time to see it's barely after midnight.

"Ah, fuck," I groan as I make my way outside.  For a brief moment, I thought it was the weekend but it's only Thursday.  I have work tomorrow.  "Jesus Christ, Becca."

An empty bus stop booth sits at the corner of the street.  I sit within and grab my phone and launch an app to call for a driver to pick me up.  The buses run late but there's no way I'm going to try and figure their routes out this late at night.

My driver arrives quickly and I'm grateful to see a woman driving.  Hopping in, I say a quiet 'thank you' and then rest my head against the window as her phone quietly calls out directions to my own apartment.

More hairs grow along my nape in a broad, sparse line that slowly begins to dip below my shoulders until ending between my shoulder blades.  I push back into my seat with a soft grunt, leaning back to rub my spine and the hairs covering them against the cheap fabric seats.

The loose bone within my hips is now swaddled by muscle and sinew.  Tentative nerves reach out, swaying as they raise and lower, questing to find the receptacles necessary for attachment.  The bone flicks when it connects and I reach back to massage my suddenly sore ass.

Black stubble grows beneath my pants, just above the band of my panties and my fingertips rub the skin hard.  The bone clicks over and over as I push against the flesh covering it.

A faint hint of longing and happiness.  It's not mine but I'm suddenly missing someone I never knew.  It's barely there, fading in and out.

A son.  For some reason, I know that very clearly.  An older son.  

The longing feels nice but it needs to be more.   Twisted with a hint of abandonment?  Fear of loss and the unknown?  Dying alone with the son by-

"We're here," the woman says softly.

I blink rapidly and exhale and it's all gone.

Once more, I thank her and then carefully exit, shaking my head against the cool air and huffing out before breathing in deeply.  Honestly I'm almost as excited about brushing my teeth as I am about getting a few hours of sleep before work.

When I'm finally able to slip naked beneath my covers, scrubbed and brushed and ready for sleep, I'm out nearly instantly.

My dreams are chaos.  They're an endless frothing mixture of scenes that follow no logic.  Spiders chase a poor girl through an open door into a land of candy canes with a fat little boy sitting in the middle of a licorice road, shoving chocolate into his mouth by the fistfulls until he opens his mouth wide and a minecart rolls into it, bumping over the tracks until it comes to a rest and a blocky-shaped person steps out to bang a blocky pickaxe against the wall.  It explodes into bricks that rearrange into a castle that pulls stone and stained glass and gargoyles from a tornado that spews out materials and a dragon screams overhead before landing on a newly built tower and a princess leaps off to scurry inside.

So it goes, one dream melding into another, pulling me along until I'm drowning in it.

---

The annoyingly pleasant chimes of my alarm drags me out of sleep and I slap my phone to silence it.

What a mess.  The entire night.  Telling everyone about the dream I had and then getting wasted to push it all away once more.  And the guy, whatever his name was, useless.  Couldn't even get the pleasure of getting off after all of that.

My body goes on autopilot as I go through the motions.  My mouth still tastes like hot garbage so I brush twice as long and gargle with the pitiful remains of my almost empty mouthwash.

And extra time in the shower.  God.  Hot water is the most amazing thing ever.  My body is sore and I feel like shit so I lean against the wall and let the water needle my neck and back.  

The long hairs on my nape and upper back lay to the sides.  More strands grow and immediately flatten under the pressure of the shower head.  I squeeze and rub my neck and then groan and push out my ass, twisting my upper body as bones pop and crack.  It's surprisingly pleasant - as if I'm cracking my knuckles after a long day at the computer.  My forearms slide slowly up the wall until I lean back and twist my hips once more with a final satisfying POP!

After the shower, I pick through my closet.  Friday means casual clothes and that means blue jeans so I grab a pair and a nice gray blouse with long sleeves to match.  

All of my socks are rolled up and bundled together tightly in my sock draw.  Today appears to be cat sock day.  Gray and black cats cover my socks and I stare at them before pulling them on and grabbing a random pair of panties to slip into.  They sit lower than normal and feel tighter but it's a minor thing.  I sit in order to pull my jeans on.

My blouse, on the other hand, presents a new problem.

"Huh," I muse, staring at the gap of my belly.

I tug the bottom down but there's a significant swathe of bare skin between my pants and shirt.  I know I've worn this blouse before and it fit perfectly, so what the hell?  When I try a second shirt, I run into the same issue: too short to cover my belly.

I toss the shirt off and stare into my closet, slipping a hand beneath my jeans to scratch an itch.

Silky brown hairs pierce the skin surrounding the scratchy stubble of my pubic hair.  The new hairs quickly cover the patch and then spread, creeping outward to my hips and down to surround my pussy.

A few shorter hairs escape the bands of my pants.  They grow in a dark, thin trail up before fading to nothing.  My fingers toy with the hairs until I spy what I'm looking for - an old gray sweatshirt stolen from an ex-boyfriend.  I grab a new shirt, shrug it over my bra, tug it down as far as it'll go and then slip the oversized hoodie on.

Perfection.

A few more steps throughout the apartment and I'm done and out the door, walking to the bus stop two blocks away.  The morning sun is a lazy yellow color that doesn't seem to do much to warm things up.  Gray clouds are smeared across the horizon, giving the landscape a slightly depressing tone.

When the bus arrives, I step in and slip to the back, sitting just behind the rear door in an empty seat with my purse on my lap.  I pick at the inseams and waist of my pants when they dig into my skin and shift around to try to get more comfortable.  They're tighter on my body than I remember and I see more bare skin showing between the legs of my jeans and the tops of my cute socks.  

Weird.

I prop my elbow up on the window next to me, watching the streets pass by while gently massaging my jaw.  There's a slow throbbing ache that seems to spread out to my gums with every pulse, retreating back to my jaw and further to my neck until a few minutes pass and it flares again.  I dig a nail into the side of my neck and roll my head but it doesn't seem to help.

An old grizzled man in a ragged jacket and a gray beanie snorts three seats ahead.  He radiates fear and I can't help but stare at him and slowly sit up as it draws my attention.  As I taste it.  Dark shapes surround him but they're more of an impression than anything real.  Oppressive.  Huge.  Inflicting delicious pain that heightens the fear.  My lips tremble as I draw it all in and I spread my legs and claw at my thigh.

The yellow lines in my eyes ignite, flashing to red when I imagine a baseball bat in the hand of one of the figures.  The old man just wants to be left alone.  He's crushed by society and dangling by a thread, cold and hungry.

Thunder rumbles and the old man gasps awake with a sharp cry.  A few passengers quietly check in on him but I look away, disinterested when there's nothing left to feed on.

Dark clouds gather on the horizon.  They remind me of something.  The tiny gaps in between them teases my brain as pareidolia kicks in and, for a very brief moment, I think I see a figure.

My fingers brush my lips, pulling them down to reveal tiny gaps between my teeth.  The rounded edges of my rectangular pupils tighten into a smaller oblong and my nostrils open wide.  It's almost there.  I feel a longing and a hot, electric ticklish feeling that makes me shiver and shake my head.  My nostrils open and close and I dip my head but look back up to try to see who it is but the spell is broken.

"Huh," I whisper, confused.  

My fingers brush the stubble beneath my hoodie, low on my belly, nails picking at the ends of the hairs and pulling them and then pushing forward to drag against more of them.  My mind wanders until we reach my stop and I stand with a group of people to slip through the back doors.

Quiet conversations surround me when I step into my office building.  Janice and Terry wave when they come out of the breakroom with plates of muffins and my stomach gurgles as I huff and breathe deeply.  Someone brought huge, homemade blueberry muffins.  Barbara, probably.  She's a gem of an old lady.  Wise, funny and really good at baking.  Now I have to investigate so I make my way into the break room to see a large plastic container half full of baked goods.

Skin stretches low on my back, pushing at the black hairs covering it before swaying, back and forth against the band of my jeans.  My pants stretch slightly, digging further into my sides while outlining my swelling ass.  They pull tight around the curves to highlight my changing figure and I sneak a glance at the door to the breakroom before pulling at the crotch.

My stomach gurgles again so I snatch one of the muffins.  And then, with a second look at the door, I grab a second one and bolt, clutching my bounty close to my belly until I reach the safety of my cubicle.

A sticky note is attached to my monitor, judging me with its square, yellow gaze.  Of course.  A meeting first thing on Friday morning.  Of course.

Setting my purse down on my desk, I huff, shake my head in annoyance and grab my handy notepad and a random black pen.  

Since it's casual Friday, I'm wearing my new sneakers and they grip the short carpet like weak velcro.  That makes me look down at them and, as if the mere act causes it to happen, my feet begin to ache, as if the bones in my toes are grinding against each other.  The pain travels outward to my forefeet, down the arches and up to the heel.  It's bad enough at first that I hiss and scrunch my toes.

Cartilage builds in my septum.  My face burns hot when it pushes against the bridge of my nose, forcing it to widen as the underlying nasal cavities open.  The rounded tip of my nose drags back, just slightly, and my nostrils pull to the sides.  Theodore, from IT, waves as I pass and then does a double-take while squinting his eyes.  He frowns and shakes his head behind me as I focus on my feet.  Soft hairs, shorter even than the few that cover my arms, push through the skin high on the bridge of my nose in a disorderly line.  Pin-head sized splotches of white coloring form around the base of a few of the hairs.

The throbbing is starting to fade in my feet but when I wiggle my toes, I feel nails scraping against skin and my feet feel far too crowded and uncomfortable.  Keratin expands out from my nail beds, rasping against the inside of my shoes with each step.  Skin connects between the toes, pressing them together tightly and dissolving the epidermis.  The bones reach outward like living things, new fragments questing for their neighbors until they touch and merge.

Something's in the carpet.  The alternating pattern of gray and brown shows the black base beneath and it's moving like a halting, flat zoetrope.  I'm startled enough that I stop to watch.  Gray threads join the black and I almost see clouds with brown suggesting a dirt ground.  But the black- the black is racing through the middle and I gasp as something tugs urgently at my memories.

Thunder.  Rumbling thunder that-

"Are you okay, Becca?" a firm voice, Jennifer, asks behind me, pulling me from my reverie.  The loose bone in my lower back flicks hard and the skin above it flows in a wave.  Another joint is growing at the end of the bone.  I want to press against the soreness but it wouldn't be a good look at work.

"Oh, umm, yeah," I tell her, blinking rapidly.  "Just lost in thought."

The dull gray and brown carpet is stationary.

"Didn't get good sleep?" she asks.

"No, I slept fine," I lie.

Didn't I?  It's an empty spot in my night, bookended by a disappointing one night stand and my annoying alarm clock.

"Lucky," she sighs.

A spider crawls at the corner of my vision, disappearing behind the wall of a coworker's cubicle.  Another drops from the ceiling before scuttling away.  A third races along the top of the cubicle wall and three lazily float on parachutes made of webs.

When we pass the partition, I can see inside and I gasp.  An old woman thrashes on the floor as millions of tiny spiders surround her, spinning their webs.  The air inside the cubicle is dark and cold but I can still hear the woman's muffled screams.

The gasp is part shock but more because an invisible force plows into me hard enough that I miss a step.  Colors sharpen around me and my hearing intensifies as all the nerves from my cheeks to my feet explode with a gasping, yearning thrill.

And I need more.  I push at the scene and spin the threads and reach out and surround me.

Something huge is approaching.  It chitters behind me and the building shakes with each step of all eight legs.

I turn, my heart pumping from adrenaline but there's nothing.  Looking back shows me an empty cubicle.  And no spiders.  

"Ever since they found my Nana dead in her home, I haven't been able to sleep well," Jennifer says.  "Bad dreams."

"S-s-sorry," I tell her, staring once more into the cubicle.  Aching for more.  Jennifer touches her forehead beside me and then wipes a random tear from her eye.

God.

Fuck.

The red lines in my eyes burn brighter, vaporizing the surrounding brown as they spread like a wildfire and a single translucent waft of smoke raises from my right nostril before dissipating. 

"Do you know what the meeting's about?" she asks, walking towards the conference room.

I follow my coworker, trailing just behind her with a slight limp.  The first joints of my toes have completely fused into a larger coffin bone, surrounded by a thick growth of nails.  As more layers form, light gray begins to replace the translucent white in streaks on the toenails.  

Another spasm and I stumble but she's ahead of me and doesn't notice.  

The calcaneus bone of my heel fractures and the larger piece travels along my foot, pulled by new muscles and tendons beginning to take root.  The smaller piece of bone becomes my ergot and I find myself being forced to the tips of my toes when the other piece settles in place behind the remains of my forefoot.

Tiny brown hairs emerge from above the growth of keratin on my feet, spreading outward and upward beneath the tight confines of my shoes.  

Peach fuzz covers the bulbous tip of my tail.  It raises and then lowers before snapping diagonally with a quick flick and then settling low once more.  The bulge is the length from the tip of my thumb to the very base at the palm of my hand.  The sensation of it squirming behind me is lost to the way my larger ass cheeks rub when I walk.  

"Becca?" Jennifer prods, having stopped to look back at me.

"Oh, what?" I ask, swallowing.  My head is filled with the soft static of a distant ocean.  Or is it a wind, rushing along an open field?

"Do you know what the meeting is about?" she asks once more.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't," I answer with a shrug.  

The reduced heel of my foot slips from my shoes, causing them to flop against the floor beneath me.  Brown stubble emerges from the gap at the top of my socks and the brief expanse of my bare legs, vanishing once more into my pants.  I really, really want to scratch myself.

A small group is gathered in the conference room, milling about as they pick their favorite seats.  I opt for the back while the older crowd moves forward to sit closer to the large television we use for presentations.  Our CFO, Shanice, fusses with her laptop.  

Jennifer sits in the chair before me, closer to the front.  Conversations die down as everyone finds their seats and Shanice logs into her computer.

"I'm out on vacation next week," the CFO begins as she launches Powerpoint.  "So, we're doing our end-of-month review early this week."

Someone stands to dim the lights and the screen casts a glow around the attendees, flattening their shadows on the table and floor.  Stretching them towards the back of the room.

Oh.

Oh shit.  

Haaa, shit.  The dream.  I'd forgotten about it, somehow, but it all rushes back to me with extraordinary detail.  I can feel the creature's cock in my hands.  

And in my mouth.

My septum pushes outward again and my nostrils pull up and back once more.  I look around the room, suddenly sure that everyone can tell I'm remembering giving a blowjob to, shit, what the hell was that thing?

Ahhhhh.

My hoodie brushes against the exposed skin on my belly and I'm really fucking sensitive.  I have to turn to face the wall and breathe out as the intense feeling pulses outward, down between my legs and up to my chest.  I grip the armrest of my chair tight while pressing my legs together but I can feel heat against my inner thighs and an echo of my heartbeat down low 

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.  Stronger now that I'm focused on it and blood descends.  I rub my tongue against the roof of my mouth and then lift and lower my legs while pushing back in my chair.  Jesus.  I can feel my labia and I really, really want to touch myself.  

I grab my fingers together in my lap, painfully tight while our CFO drones on about inventory turns.

It's just- I shouldn't-

My right hand breaks free and slips beneath my hoodie.  Nails drag against skin as well as soft brown hairs, feathery to the touch.  They nearly cover my lower belly now but they're too thin to completely hide my skin.

The very tips of my nails dip beneath my pants but I'm focused on rubbing my stomach.  Skin loosens every time I push my palm against my belly and I sigh as quietly as possible and twine my ankles together when a particular spot begins to feel really fucking good.  It's a sharp point of pleasure that I can't stop touching.

Bones expand within my widened hips and my already tight jeans strain to hold together.  My lightly furred mound lifts and I inhale with a hitched breath, oblong eyes wide when it stretches my swollen pussy.  My ass shoves back.  And then forward.  And once more back when my asshole grows larger to match and the muscles within push together.

A wet spot forms between my thighs as my pussy expands and contracts in a wink that shows I'm ready to be mounted.  Sable lines appear in the creases of my throbbing pussy lips.  They inch forward and break apart before growing further, again and again until the pink is completely replaced.  The soft, wrinkled skin compresses against the crotch of my jeans and an irregular, ring soaks into my jeans.

My palm drags loose skin and a second happy spot joins the first.   Involuntary muscle fibre form beneath my hand, opening for the first time to allow milk to flow from the teat canals growing in place.  Microscopic sphincters spread upon in the center of the canals.  Alveoli, ducts, and lobes develop languidly and the loose skin begins to fill.  It's so soft in my hand and I jump when I massage the twin lumps.

A stitch pops on the inside seam of my jeans and two more pop on the outside seam of my other pant leg.

The warmth of it on my face and tongue.  My brain keeps circling around to that.  The smooth texture of his cock compared to the wrinkled ballsack and the precum that filled my senses.

My breath shudders when I breathe out and my widened nose breaks it into a soft whicker.  

I almost raise my hand to excuse myself until I remember that I'm a fucking fully function adult and I don't need permission to leave.  I abandon my notebook and pen when I stand and stumble on awkward merged toes and constricting pants.  My tail, longer now but still hidden beneath my hoodie, slaps against the band of my jeans.

Creases appear in the soft, sagging skin low on my belly.  The pale skin darkens around the lines and then puckers outward.  More alveoli grow within my udders and it drives me nuts every time the two teats brush against the cotton lining the inside of the hoodie.  I shove my hands into the front pocket when I slip through the conference room door and my fists make circles over the teats.  My enlarged nostrils flare outward and the white splotches begin to spread along the bridge of my nose.

I slip through the cubicles, head down with impending shame as I make my way to the bathroom.

Shadows gather where the light is most dim, next to cubicle walls, beneath desks and office furniture and in the corners of the open floor.  Old halogen bulbs flicker above me when I pass but I'm ignoring them as I fast-walk on the tips of my feet.

Threads snap and unravel along my jeans.  A small hole appears in the pronounced curve of my left hip.  Brown hairs curl out through the small gap.

I can't stop tensing the muscles between my thighs. I'm fixated on the way the powerful muscles feel when they flex together, slippery and slick.  The wet spot in the middle of the soaked oblong on the crotch of my pants is spreading outward.  My nostrils lift, the edges rising until they're pointed sideways and my nose widens even further.  

Each step makes my thighs rub against my protruding, swollen pussy lips and it's finally too much.  I lean against a cubicle and moan, head down.  Trying to hold back the sound turns it into a quiet whinny and my ears tremble against my short hair.

Almost there.  

I push forward and shove the bathroom door open.

My proto-hooves clip-clop against the tile, barely muffled by the soles of my overly tight shoes.  The loose knot holding my shoelaces together unravels under the pressure and my right foot slips free to clack loudly against the floor.  It slides for a moment but I'm so frantic, I don't even notice.  I barrel into the stall, close it and shove at my jeans, groaning when they rub against my sensitive thighs.  The loose shoe slides into my stall before settling against the wall.

Wasting no time, I sit bare-assed on the toilet and touch myself.

Jesus.  I'm so fucking wet.  My fingers trace the wrinkled black skin of my swollen pussy lips and I lean back, eyes closed as I picture him before me.  My pussy winks as I press two fingers within and this time I moan loudly, unable to hold myself back.

Invisible fingers pull the tips of my ears, unrolling the edges until they're straight and sliding against my pixie cut.  They lean back to the sound of crunching gravel as the bones reconfigure themselves.

Darkness flows in through the gap in the top of the door, gathering in one corner before spreading outward.  A gray haze fills the bathroom but I'm lost in the building orgasm, bulging eyes fluttering.  Long strands of black hair sway from the tail when it slaps my ass and I moan, shoving my chest forward.

Laying back again, I raise my feet and my left foot comes free from its shoe.  Dusky light reflects from the short hooves ringing the front of my foot and the stall shudders when I slam them against the wall in front of me.  Thick hair dangles from my forelock.

My hand folds to slip inside my pussy but the angle is uncomfortable.  Still, it feels incredible and I whinny as I fist-fuck myself frantically.  My cum drips to the toilet and the floor beneath me and my wrist and forearm rub between my udders, bare skin dragging against silky fur.  The teats bounce from the jerky movement and I reach down by reflex to grab one with my free hand, gasping as I tweak the nipple.  Lost in my self gratification.

It's not enough.  I whicker and writhe as I remember the size of the creature from my dreams.  At the impossible thickness of him.

Oh god, oh god, it's- it's- it's-

My ears shoot up straight and my eyes fly open as my pussy clenches down, pushing my hand violently free. My voice is a harsh rasp when I cry out and my chest is mottled red from the excitement and effort.  Sweat drips from my hairline, rolling over the bulge of my cheeks.

Bones push against my face, pulling it apart to match the width of my nose.  The white stains on my nose spread further when the skin stretches until it narrows into a sharp point above my eyes.  Slender brown hairs sprout from my chin while whiskers emerge around them, lengthening when my jaw pushes forward and gaps appear between my teeth.  The brown hairs spread along the edge of my jaw and up, around my folded ears.

My canines lengthen, drawing to sharp points as the nearby teeth flatten.  More teeth, large and as flat as my molars, grow to fill the gaps in my face as my jaw strains forward.  

My tail raises tall and then slams down against the back of the toilet, trapped by it's length.

"Guh-guh-god!" I say, shaking and then clamping my jaw shut with a loud 'thock!' when the bathroom door opens.

They go to the stall next to me but I barely notice because I'm staring down my body.

I notice my udders first, bulging away from my body and pulled to the side by gravity.  The twin teats are the color of charcoal.  I can feel the weight of the soft skin against my stomach.

Against the short brown fur covering my belly.  Strands of clear cum coat the fur on my udders, thighs and crotch.  I watch in horror as one end disconnects and dangles to the floor.  As carefully as I can, I reach out to catch it and then, looking away, I wipe it on my leg, smearing it into the fur.

I can see my hoof in the corner of my eye.  Brown hairs completely cover the remains of my foot and up to the middle of my shin.  It fades slowly to shorter hairs, then stubble, then bare skin but I can already see more strands pushing through.

What the fuck! What the fu- I tell myself and then jump when I feel my tail touch my back and then wrap around my hip to smack my leg.  My ears tremble and my eyes bulge further.

Sunlight streams through sudden cracks in the wall.  Birds chirp and cheep and there's a faint melody in the distance.  A small rabbit races beneath the stall while a blue jay alights on my stall door.

What the fuck is happening?! I'm high.  Or dreaming. Or, shit, having a stroke and hallucinating?

There's a faint taste in my mouth again.  Acidic.  Disgusting.  I stare at the bird and a raven appears, wings wide as it grabs the blue jay and tears it apart.  The sunlight takes on a sickly hue and the calls of the bird turn ominous.

A creature screams in the distance and it almost sounds human.  

Fear and panic.  My body writhes as I feed on it, twisting the remnants of the dream into something dark.  Already I've pushed the sight of my body aside as I touch myself against, dark lips wide to show large fangs while my fingers pull at the thick pussy lips that still drip cum to the floor.  

Tiny flames ignite on the ends of my black mane.  They gutter as they emit thick gray smoke and the woman in the stall next to me chokes back a sob.

Ahhhhh.

Lost in the woods.  Hidden, lurking spiders reach gray legs out from the hollows in trees and she's a child now, panting and crying as she stumbles over logs while unknown animals screech around her.  

My hand plunges into my pussy and I grab my teat again while smiling and grinding my canines against my teeth.  It's so fucking amazing.  The taste of her fears, of her forgotten dream resurging until she can't tell if it's real or not.

The woman stumbles out of her stall, neither flushing or washing her hand and the dream fades with distance until I'm left feeling unsatisfied.

Awareness returns.

I still have hooves.  I still have two black teats atop full udders.  The fur on my belly itches as it creeps upward to vanish beneath my shirt and I can see more growing up to my knees.  The hair over my calves bulges outward and I bite my thick lips with sharp fangs when muscles grow within my calves to support my strange new legs and heavier frame.  My hooves sliiiiiiide down the slick wall so I push them back up as slowly and quietly as I can.

Pain.  Pressure in my chest.  I twist my head and the tips of my short hair brush against the thick black mane at the nape of my neck.  I take a deep breath and the pain grows, hot and sharp.  

Skin strains beneath my shirt.  I feel the ends of my shirt sliding against the creeping fur on my belly as my shirt fills out.  I quickly struggle out of my hoodie while slamming my hooves to the tile.  I stand and then lean against the wall of the stall with my arms trapped in the sleeves of my hoodie, resting against the top of my udder.  

My breasts swell within the confines of my bra until they overwhelm it and slip free, pushing the bra down beneath their curves.  The neck of my shirt draws downward to expose cleavage while my shirt shrinks.

Brown fur covers my chest in thick patches as the pressure continues to build.  I want to say it hurts or feels bad but it feels fucking amazing and I jerk and claw at the velvet fur around my teats and the tender skin of my bulging breasts. 

Muscles tighten within my pussy, opening and closing the still-slick lips in an inviting wink while my tail slams against the wall behind me.  The lights flicker over me as thunder rumbles in the distance.

I've- I've gotta- gotta get out of here.  

Hard lines bulge on my thighs as I bend to grab the pants pooled around my hooves.  I pull them up but they catch just above my knee and refuse to move.  

Shitshitshit.  Deep breaths.  Deeeeeep breaths.  Deeeee-

It smells like sex in here and that's distracting as fuck.  My widened nostrils flap slightly as I inhale and I whinny quietly when the memory of him comes unbidden once more.

No, no, no, no.  I have fucking hooves and extra fucking tits on my fucking stomach and I'm stuck in a fucking bathroom stall at work!  I have to get out of here and figure out what the hell is happening.

I clean the toilet and floor with too much toilet paper and then sit once more to figure out my pants.  

My arms press against my larger breasts, squeezing them together.  They're a new encumbrance that annoys me while I try to maneuver my body.  The legs of my pants are too narrow for my hooves.  Worse, as I'm tugging them I see my goddamn feet moving in a weird fucking way as tarsals and metatarsals merge into pastern bones and then break and shift upward to reform a new solid metacarpal bone above the bulge of my ergot.

Veins stand out in my biceps as light brown peach fuzz erupts from my skin.  I grunt and whinny as I pull at my jeans and hardened lines emerge on my arms.  Muscles flare and the legs of my jeans rip, helped by the ragged edges of my untrimmed hooves.

Great.  Now I'm fucking naked.  Bottomless.  It's dumb but I pull up my cold, soaked panties to cover my pussy.  They strain over my wide hips and even though my udder blocks my view, I can see the thick, black wrinkled skin of my changed labia so they aren't hiding shit.

The hoodie!

I pull it back on and shake my head to settle my mane before shoving my hands into the pocket.  

It's... smaller than I remember.  It doesn't even fucking cover the udder sitting above my crotch.  And my ridiculous tits bulge outward, tipped by nipples that, I swear to god, have doubled in size.

Thunder rumbles the building.  My ears lay flat and I whinny anxiously while staring at the door.  My tail slaps my leg as the lights buzz and whine and blink out for a half second.

Our supply closet is down the hall from the bathroom.  I could, fuck, I could build a box fort and hide until everyone goes home.

My hooves sound unnaturally loud as they echo in the small bathroom while my heart thumps equally loud.  I push at the pocket on my hoodie to shove it down as hard as I can but it doesn't even cover my udder.  The long, black hairs lining my tail whap against my thigh and ass as I approach the door with apprehension.  My hand presses hard against the wall to keep me steady on these strange feet and legs and I slide a little every time my feet - hooves?  Every time my hooves hit the floor.

Heart hammering in my chest, my red, rectangular eyes open wide, I open the door very slightly.

Wind whips past me and the tiny fires on the ends of the hair of my mane flicker.  Thick gray smoke ripples behind me from my mane.

There is no door.  There is no office.

Darkness surrounds me but he stands there, waiting, a masculine mirror to my changed form.  He's at least a head taller than me and powerful.  Broad-chested with trunk-like legs and satin black fur.  His long ears are at attention and his deep red eyes watch me carefully.  Canines that are nearly tusks due to their length lay exposed against his lips.  I brush my own lips in reflex and feel the bulge of my own sharp teeth.

He's nude, of course, and his cock arches before him, the base connected to his stomach by a thick webbing of skin.

It's, uhh, hard to, uhhh.  

Uhh.

Hard to look away.

Oh.  His mane is on fire, red and orange and yellow with black streaks.  Flying softly behind him, counter to the wind.

I feel power from him the same way I felt emotions from the others.  It pulses and growls and makes me feel needy.  And weak.  And hungry.  I whinny and shake my head while he stares at me.

"Who- what are you?" I finally work up the nerve to ask.

"Your mate," he says, his voice deep enough to reach inside of me and make me gasp with a sudden, powerful desire.  "You were stolen from me."

"I- what?"

It's kinda hard to think with him.... existing there.

"We were formed from the depths as a mated pair," he says, waving his arm.  An image shimmers with heat beside him.  It's him and a small black two-legged horse creature, roaming unseen among sleeping humans.  The image shifts to a mansion and suddenly the mare screams soundlessly, hands to head.

"Was that- was that me?"

"Yes.  The sleeper gathered protection after countless nights of tormenting his damned soul.  They ripped us apart, throwing you into the mortal world where you were reborn as a child.  Their magic kept me from you until you were old enough to loosen their hold."

"The dreams." I sigh.

"Yes.  I tried to come for you again and again, ignoring my duties even through the decades when I could no longer find your dreams.  Always searching.  Always waiting."

He steps closer and I hold my breath.

Another step and I can feel his heat.  

God.  God, I want him so bad.

"I- I- I- don't remember any of that," I stutter.  "I'm- I'm not your- not your mate."

"You are," he says, touching my cheek.  His hand slides around to my mane and his fingers toy with the long hairs.  It feels so fucking good.  

"I d- don't remember it," I say when his cock presses solidly against my stomach.  I'm already wet and his pre-cum sliiiiiiides down the tip and over the head and down to my belly.  His balls rub against my udder and I can't stop a short, sharp whicker.

"And you never will," he says, lifting my face.  "But you are still mine, as I am yours.  You're made anew but you're still my mate and we'll rediscover each other.  Our bond lasts beyond time."

My hand reaches for him, grabbing his dick to fondle it, sliding fingers along its length as I swallow the drool forming in my mouth.  It's so soft and yet so hard at the same time and my thumb brushes against the thick veins over and over.  My ears twist forward and then back and my tail thrashes behind me, the hairs dragging against the fur creeping up my ass and thighs.

"What- what will happen to me?" I ask.

"I'll teach you," he says, leaning close enough to make my ears twitch.  He nibbles them and I shudder, squeezing his cock.  "We'll hunt in dreams once more and feast on their fears."

God dammit.  I'd almost forgotten those strange bursts during the day.  I growl, squeezing and pulling at his cock as I'm suddenly reminded of how arousing the taste was and my eyes glow, casting light upon the white mark running down my long nose.  I can already feel the tiny bites against my body.  Minds touching me, ready to be torn apart by their fears and desires.

His arms wrap around me, reaching down to my ass and I lean into him and claw his back.  My nails pull off to reveal the flesh beneath until dark points pierce the wrinkled skin and talons curve away to draw blood from his body.

And then it's too much.  I turn, twisting away from his grasp.  My tail raises above my swollen pussy and the pink muscles within pulse, tightening before relaxing as I go to my hands and knees.  My udder dangles beneath me, the soft skin rubbing against the light fur on my thighs and stomach while my heavy breasts pull at my back.

I draw in one of the insistent minds and gasp, raising my ass a moment before his hand touches my back and hip.  The mind is a middle-aged man, poking at a puddle with a stick.  Only now, with a mental push, the puddle opens into a mouth that grabs the stick and pulls him in, red teeth thrashing against his arm.  I can almost hear his scream as the shock, pain, and horror rush over me.  I can't help but spasm from it when it overloads my senses.

The creature's smooth, heavy cock slaps against my ass, bringing me back to the present.  I feel the pre-cum smearing against my fur when he pulls back and drags it against me until I feel the burning flesh against my aching pussy.

Even now, with my widened hips, I'm not sure I can take him.  It doesn't stop me from shoving back and I whinny loudly when I feel myself open to him.  His unearthly moan strums a chord within my core and my tail flicks as I try to relax to take all of him.  He's splitting me apart and the pain is a knife in my belly but I can't stop.

As my body relaxes, the pain fades and he slides even deeper into me.  I stomp my foot, cracking the front of my hoof against the ground as I claw the dirt and grind my fangs together.  My ears cant forward and his fingers dig deep into my furred hips.

With a huff, he pulls back.  And then pushes forward, shoving my chest to the ground with the force of it.  I cry out but he pulls his hands back to grip my ass and spreads me open, easing the pain that was threatening to build once more.  I can feel his veins against the slick bumps within my pussy and I grip as tightly as I dare.  

One of his hands leaves my ass and then grips my mane, holding me tight while he quickens his pace, pulling back and slamming forward.  I feel his balls slap against my udder but he still hasn't bottomed out.

I've never felt this full in my life.  Never felt this much pleasure.  I grab another mind and twist it with shapes and fangs and claws - the only thing I can think to do while he destroys me with his cock.  The bliss of torturing the nameless person rushes into me and the flames on my mane grow brighter.  They burn down along the hairs slowly as the creature pounds into me, shoving my tits and face against the ground relentlessly.  

I can't- can't think- past- the- cock-

The flames reach my body and brown hairs burn to black as the fire spreads, enveloping me as I scream, overwhelmed by my mate thrusting deep within me.  I'm so close.  So close.  I whicker and whinny and shove back, almost feeling his balls against my pussy as my tail slaps his body.

He grabs my mane hard, pulling my upper body up until I'm forced to brace myself on my hands and knees.  He's growling and black smoke huffs out from his mouth.

God.  God dammit.  GOD!

His cock is growing inside of me as my breasts slap my chest over and over and over and-

The creature explodes within me.

"Mother- mother fucker!" I scream, digging claws deep into the earth.  "Fucking cum deep into my fucking-!"

My pussy spasms around him and the words are choked from my throat.  My ass quivers and my muscles grow weak but his grip tightens to hold me in place.  And he's still cumming, filling my pussy until it spurts out to cover the both of us.

The flame tracing my body burns down to my hands and feet and smoke wafts away from my pure black fur.  I grind my forehead against the ground, rolling and rubbing and butting as two nubs form and grow to points.

A single, pure blue flame ignites between my curled, black horns when I lift my head and black smoke puffs away from my nostrils.  I growl and push back but my mate pulls out.  I curse him while squeezing his cock tight with my pussy but he laughs and stands back, leaving me to collapse to my side.  My tail lifts weakly and then lays to the ground.

I'm lost in the waves of my orgasm and time passes as my mate watches over me.  I don't know how long I lay there but, finally, I roll to my stomach and push up.

"Bastard," I gasp while forcing myself to stand.  "Never- never felt like that before."

"We have an aeon to explore each other," he growls.  "We've left our duty untended far too long."

His thick hand reaches out but I snarl and stand on my way, stumbling and catching myself with my wide hoof.

"Wait," I gasp, hands to my side.  "Dreams.  How do I find someone specifically?"

"Simply think of them."

So, I do.  The scenery shifts and I see her in a shadowy form, picking at scars on her wrist as her parents scream at each other from different rooms.  She cringes with each crash of thrown dishes.  I feel around her as my mate watches silently.

It's there.

I see her laid out before me, terrified.  Hopeless.  

It feels wrong and leaves a terrible taste in my throat but I weave a dream for her.  Not a sappy dream that everything will be fine but, instead, perseverance.  Strength against adversity.  I'll return to her and continue to guide her.  When she sinks low, I'll nudge her back.  Maybe the old me wouldn't.  Maybe the old me would delight in her despair but that one's dead and gone.

My mate stands without judgment.  Just waiting for me to finish my work.  He doesn't ask questions or tell me I'm wrong or anything.  Points in his favor.

When I step back, I feel nauseated.  Hungry.

Another step and I stare at Simon's daydreams.  He dozes, half awake in the corner of a mostly empty parking lot.  Stroking himself slowly.  He's thinking of Amanda.  He stalked her.  And me.  And he's imagining us bent over in terror before him.

His dreams are already monstrous and waiting to grow worse.  He's a step away from taking a woman off the street.

Amanda explodes into red horrors in his dream and he jerks, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to redirect his imagination.  I pull it back, enjoying the flavor it gives when a hissing mob of misshapen women tear him apart and he screams in his car, severing the thread.

According to my mate, we have a job to attend to, one that has gone for decades without our touch.  After enjoying the few bouts of terror I've had today, I look forward to it.  

But, as I watch Simon drive off, I smile at the ghostly image of his car and my tail flicks. 

Everyone needs a hobby and I think I've found mine.  My own little personal project.

"Come," the creature says, offering its hand as an oval appears midair.

I take his hand and step through into a space full of flickering images, ready to learn my new craft.