Pleasant Dreams (vignette) (Patreon)

You might think it’s too high a price, and for you it might be.  Giving up the ability dream isn’t something that most people would take lightly, but I haven’t missed it once.  Being able to visit other people’s dreams, the sensation of stepping off a cliff’s edge, plummeting into a kaleidoscope of infinite realities night after night more than makes up for missing a playdate with my own subconscious.  As far as my body’s concerned I’m asleep, but my mind is free to roam.  

It took some getting used to.  At first it was like getting dropped into the middle of a stormy sea with no life preserver and no way to find solid ground.  I was buffeted on all sides, sent bouncing from dream to dream as I punched through one slumbering mind after the other.  I hurtled through pleasant memories, violent nightmares, and lurid fantasies like a pinball, ricocheting until I thought my mind would break.  The devil was certainly in the details, and the powers that gifted me with these abilities didn’t see fit to give me an instruction manual. 

Not that I thought they would.  I didn’t walk into this arrangement with my eyes closed, but I also wouldn’t have been able to summon such ancient forces without being a little strong willed.  Nothing worthwhile is easy, and like any other skill all it took was some practice.  It was slow going at first, but gradually I was able to slow my breakneck careening through the network of sleeping minds.  After that I found I could linger, then move as I please, until eventually I was able to shape and take control of the scenario.  

At this point you might be wondering why didn’t I just learn how to control my own dreams?  What’s the difference between shaping mine or someone else’s if it’s all just fantasy?  Ask Rich.  A month ago he was as straight as they came, yet right now he’s in my bed, passed out content as can be after riding my dick until we were both spent and sore.  With his cropped blonde hair, lantern jaw, and chiseled body he used to be the one giving it to ladies all over town, but now he can’t get enough.  It was almost too easy.  Rich is a nice guy, but he’s a physical creature, not a thinker.  If he isn’t at work he’s at the gym, and if he’s not at the gym he’s in some woman’s bed.  Or at least he used to be.  Now if he’s not at work or at the gym he’s here, doing whatever he can to get me inside him.  And all it took were a few visits in his sleep.  

That’s really the hardest part: knowing who to visit.  It can be like trying to decide what movie to stream, when you spend all your time scrolling through the options and never actually end up watching anything.  The freedom of choice is paralyzing.  At first I ventured out blindly, and it paid off a few times, but I quickly realized that it’s more fun to zero in on people I actually know, especially once I learned about the side effects in the waking world.  

Rich was a friend of a friend, and the only things I really knew about him before all this were that he worked as a mechanic, he was a bit of a douchebag, and he was gorgeous.  He was always posting pictures of himself at the gym, pretending to be humble about his stunning physique, and it was one of those selfies that started the whole thing.  I just happened to see it as I was scrolling in bed and took it as a sign.  I focused on him a short while later, keeping his name and image in my mind as I closed my eyes and took that step off the edge.  There was the ever-present rush of adrenaline and the stomach-churning sensation of freefall, but instead of crashing randomly through a myriad of psyches I touched down lightly in a gym.  

I wasn’t surprised.  Of course someone like Rich would also dream of going to the gym.  Apparently the endless hours he spent there in the waking world weren’t enough.  I watched him from a distance, letting the dream unfold on its own at first.  It’s a bit of a misnomer that dreams are always fantastic and surreal, and this was a prime example.  For all intents and purposes he was going through what looked like an average shoulder day, hefting free weights in a tank-top and gym shorts just like I’d seen him do in his videos online.  There were no strange angles or menacing clowns.  He wasn’t giving a presentation with no pants on.  There were no last minute tests he’d forgotten to study for.  It was just him in a gym, throwing dumbbells around like always.  Usually I would focus on making the setting as realistic and vivid as possible, but in his case he did most of the work for me, to the point where even I had a hard time remembering that we weren’t just in his head.    

That just left the question of approach.  Sometimes I was an invisible observer, but in his case I wanted to take a more active role.  I made sure that he’d see me as whatever kind of person he found most attractive, taking note of my short, raven hair, heaping breasts, tiny waist, and huge ass when I saw my reflection in the mirrors lining the dream-gym’s walls.  Wanting to see how he’d react on his own, I made no attempts to hide my staring as I watched his powerful arms and broad shoulders flex, accentuating the way his torso tapered before his solid cheeks bubbled out again.  

He flashed his smug, half-smile when he saw me staring in the mirror and kept lifting, making it a point to flex more noticeably as I made my way closer.  The rest of the gym emptied at my approach, until it was just the two of us by the time I stood next to him.  Rich was oblivious to the disappearing crowd as he now openly stared at me and set the weights down, his pecs glistening with sweat beneath the soaked, plastered-on tank-top.  I let his mind drive my actions for now, wanting to establish a foundation as I heard myself giggle at his obnoxious pickup line and felt myself sticking my chest and ass out in equal measure.  This would all become important later, so I didn’t do anything to change the course of events when he pulled me into his sweaty arms and mashed our mouths together.  My smaller, softer new body lit up at the sensation of his granite frame pressing against me, his strong fingers sliding up my back to work my top off.  My fantasy self gave a deep, lustful moan when he broke off the kiss and began working my supple chest with his tongue, his hands now sliding south to slip into my tiny lycra shorts.  

I was both impressed and annoyed to discover that Rich wasn’t just boasting about his skills.  It was no wonder he fucked as much as he did If he was even close to being this talented in the waking world.  My dream body was on fire as his fingers rooted around inside and his soft lips covered every inch of my smooth new torso.  During his ravenous onslaught my slender hands were far from idle, working his shorts down and letting his long, fat cock spring free.  I loved the sound of his deep grunts when I began stroking the rigid club, and the look of growing determination in his eyes as he guided us to the floor.  

Finding myself in such fluid situations, the concept of gender had long since lost any meaning for me in these scenarios.  Pleasure was pleasure, and when everything could be warped and changed the idea of what constituted a “man” and a “woman” very quickly became moot.  The fact that this scene was playing out with me in the body of a woman did nothing to dilute the muscle-melting waves of bliss as his well-oiled hips plunged his aching rod in rhythmic fashion.  In that moment he was the picture of masculinity; his shredded, powerful body looming over me, a mix of arrogance and ecstasy on his handsome face as his impressive organ brought me to the brink.  

I waited until he was about to pop, when his thrusting picked up speed and he started to tense, to take control.  Just as he was giving his final plunge I let the fantasy fall away, swapping out the supple, feminine frame for my waking body.  He was still buried inside me on the gym floor, only now my legs were hefted onto his shoulders, my very masculine cock leaking onto my stomach while he slammed against my ass.  The wide-eyed look of confusion on his face as he exploded into me was priceless, his smug grin falling when his jaw dropped and he spasmed on top of me.  

I reset the scene before he could fully process what happened.  One second he was unexpectedly cumming inside a man, and the next he was back to working on his shoulders in a bustling gym.  I watched him blink a few times and shake his head before noticing the chesty, dark-haired version of myself staring once again.  He was entirely unaware as the scene played out on autopilot once again, complete with my sudden appearance at the end right before a reset.  That was the fun with dreams.  Time was as meaningless as everything else, which meant we could repeat the process over and over.  

I began making my appearance earlier, locking in his behavior so that he saw things through no matter how confused he was.  Eventually it was happening early enough for him to sputter out a few “what the fuck?!” as he kept pumping, but I’d dialed up his pleasure response to the point where he couldn’t do much more than grunt.  He may not have understood what was happening, but he’d never felt better in his life.  By the end of the dream, after what would have been countless hours in the real world, I didn’t have to disguise myself at all.  He was too confused by his reaction to pitch any corny pickup lines, but I was thrilled to see him get hard at just the sight of me.  

I wish I could have seen his reaction when he woke up that following morning.  He’d remember every second of the seemingly endless dream, and I could only imagine how he’d feel waking up rock hard with soaked sheets and me on his mind, especially if he had one of his numerous hookups in bed with him.  

I contented myself with the knowledge that I’d be seeing him again that night and eagerly dropped off when the time came, landing back in the same bustling gym.  I watched his shorts twitch and tent as soon as he set eyes on me, but instead of immediately picking up where we left off I made him wait.  Where the previous night I sauntered over and we got right to it, this time he kept lifting while I watched.  Unfortunately for him this meant he was forced to keep pumping iron with his tented shorts on full display in the crowded gym.  I watched him blush as he tried and failed to cover himself, a situation that became more difficult as his clothes began disappearing.  First his tank-top, then his mesh shorts, and then his boxer briefs until he was left pressing the dumbbells above his rippling, naked frame, his rigid cock standing proudly before him.  Though the embarrassed stud continued his workout exposed and hard, none of the other gym goers reacted.  At least not at first.  I wanted him to settle into his current state so that when the heads gradually started to turn in his direction he’d be caught off guard.  Soon, everyone in the room was staring at his shredded physique, beet red from humiliation as his proudest asset was turned against him and he helplessly kept lifting.  

I didn’t let up.  With all eyes on him, I began making changes to the physique he normally loved to tease people with.  I shrunk his thick seven inch beast to a meager three, forcing him to show the tiny nub to the entire gym as he stretched out on a bench to work his chest.  When he sat up and stood, I watched him stumble as he took his first steps on legs that were four inches shorter.  I shifted his muscle around, draining it away and pumping it back in equal measure while his perky bubble expanded and contracted.  His washboard stomach ballooned out into a gut, then shrank back into a soft, shapeless belly beneath pecs that ballooned and flattened.  

I left his body as a shifting mosaic, his lust growing with each new shape.  I’m sure Rich thought it was a nightmare as he watched his carefully built body shift and change, unable to hide any of it from the gawking crowd as his warping cock ached for everyone to see.  I let him go until I was afraid he’d snap and then reset the scene, but with one important difference.  

This time I was the one lifting weights and he was the one staring, but now he was the one in his fantasy body.  It was still mostly his chiseled frame, but now the blonde adonis was the one wearing a stuffed sports bra and empty lycra shorts with a large, supple ass spilling out the back.  I could see the look of horror in his eyes as he walked towards me and the scene from the night before played out again.  He giggled just as I had when I threw the cheesy pickup line at him, and he shuddered all the same at my touch.  As the scenario ran its course and I stripped him down, toying with his altered body the way he had with mine, his eyes were the only thing betraying his fear as the crowd continued to watch.  

Rich snapped back to his original body at the climax just as I had, but this time I dialed down the pleasure he felt in his unaltered form.  As we repeated the process again and again, it wasn’t long until his look of relief at changing back to his regular body turned to one of disappointment.  With each replay the sensations were magnified, meaning that while his ecstasy became overwhelming, the sudden drop when his masculine body returned was an even steeper decline.  By the end of the night he was actually protesting the change, wanting to cling to his aching pussy and bouncing tits for as long as possible and not caring how many people were watching him.  

I was legitimately surprised when I dropped into his dream the following night and found him lifting weights as always, only this time all he had on were the tiny lycra shorts and his girthy bulge was nowhere to be seen.  He dropped the weights at the sight of me and sauntered over, showing no hesitation as everyone in the gym stopped what they were doing to watch.  This time Rich was a mix of the previous nights, displaying a coy bravado as he still pitched a corny pickup line, but then giggled afterwards.  And while he still seemed embarrassed when I tugged his little shorts free and stripped him down in front of everyone, that didn’t stop him from flexing and posing as he shoved me down on a bench and impaled himself.  

He was as insatiable as ever, but this time as we went at it we weren’t locked into the same repeating behavior.  I still swapped him back and forth to his regular body as I had the night before, only this time I didn’t dull any of the pleasure when he went from having me inside his eager slit to his tight hole.  Sometimes he screamed and came with a throbbing pussy, and other times he came with his untouched cock spraying up onto his sweat-covered pecs.  As long as I was inside him the ecstasy was the same; it didn’t matter how.  After a while it also became clear that he was enjoying the idea of being watched more and more as the crowd in the gym grew, and his ecstatic writhing and moaning became less inhibited.  

The next day, I was still trying to figure out what the sudden shift in Rich’s behavior meant when he suddenly texted me out of nowhere.  As I said, we had mutual friends, but he’d never reached out to just me before.  I could tell he was trying to sound casual when he suggested that we get together that night, and he responded a bit too quickly when I offered for him to come over to my place.  

I had no idea what to expect, but I was thrilled when I opened the door to see him wearing the exact tank-top and mesh shorts he’d had on in the dreams.  I could tell he was nervous as soon as I ushered him inside, and I could already see a familiar twitching and bouncing in the front of his shorts the moments he laid eyes on me.  I played it cool and pretended not to notice, giving him a chance to collect himself while I went and got us a couple beers, but when I returned he was standing in the same spot, his face crimson and his solid cock tenting his shorts.  

He immediately started stammering out an apology, a far cry from the confident stud I knew him to be.  I let him go for a minute before cutting him off and felt him shiver when I put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him over to the couch.  I told him to take a deep breath and tell me what’s going as we sat, and I watched his face go a deeper shade of red when he mentioned that he’d been having dreams about me.  He didn’t go into the details, but he said he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about me.  He assured me over and over again that he wasn’t actually gay, though he couldn’t explain the rigid cock trying desperately to escape from his shorts.  

I let his explosion of embarrassed nerves continue until he’d run out of things to say, putting a hand on the exposed patch of leg just above his knee when he finally fell silent.  There was a tense pause as he stared at me with his confused, doe eyes.  It wasn’t until I told him that he was in luck, that I just happened to be very gay and was more than willing to help him figure this out, that his usual confidence started to emerge.  Like he had in the dream, he flashed a grin that was equal parts smug and coy as he reached out to pull me in for a tentative kiss.    

As soon as our lips touched it was like we were back in his dream.  He grabbed the back of my head and held me tight as his tongue probed the inside of my mouth before abruptly breaking off the kiss and shoving me onto my back.  He straddled me on the couch, pinning me between his muscled thighs, but instead of focusing on the massive tent in his shorts he was busily grinding his solid cheeks against my lap.  I grabbed the back of his shorts and boxer briefs and pulled them down, exposing the granite globes, and nearly came on the spot at the cracking whimper he gave when my fingers merely brushed against his eager hole.  I watched the front of his shorts bounce when his cock spasmed, a large damp spot forming as the confused stud’s dreams started to become a reality.  I reached up with my other hand and guided his head back down to pick up where our kiss had left off and ended up swallowing his scream when I pushed a finger inside.  He squirmed on top of me when one finger became two, and two became three, eventually having to break off the kiss when he became so overwhelmed that he couldn’t do anything other than whimper and moan into my shoulder.  

It was more than I ever could have hoped for.  We were both wide awake, and yet there he was grunting and writhing on top of me.  More surprising, his body was responding as if all the dreams had actually happened.  I knew for a fact his tight hole had never seen any action, but his solid bottom effortlessly swallowed my fingers without him even realizing it.  And he hadn’t once touched his oozing cock.  Normally so proud of his thick, sizable member, Rich acted like it wasn’t even there until the untouched hose sprayed so hard he spurted through both his underwear and his shorts.  

I’ll never forget the look on his face as I watched him trying to process the fact that he’d just cum in his clothes while another guy fingered his ass.  The normally smug stud was beet red, the awkward, bashful smile still on his face as he sat up and stared down at his soaked shorts, his sculpted pecs making his tank top heave as he caught his breath.  His bare cheeks still rested on my aching bulge but instead of climbing off my lap he kept squirming, clearly not finished despite his potent release.  

I decided to press the issue.  I sat up and wrapped my arms around him, resuming our kiss from earlier while I worked the tank-top up his shredded, tapering torso.  I broke off the kiss and pulled it free before giving him a rough shove that sent him flat on his back on the couch.  Without breaking eye contact, I grabbed the front of his sopping shorts and underwear and pulled them both down until his athletic body was stretched out naked in front of me.  His thick cock flopped heavily over a toned thigh while his spent balls hung low as he gazed almost longingly up at me.  

I didn’t bother to ask.  I didn’t need to.  I opened my pants and pushed them down just enough, leaving the rest of my clothes in place while I hefted his legs into the air.  The trembling Adonis gave a quick gasp when I gave a rough tug on his thighs and pulled him close, putting a leg on each shoulder.  I bent forward and pressed his soft, pouty lips against mine and waited to see if he’d back out as my oozing tip brushed against his hole.  When it became clear there was no going back I broke off the kiss.  I wanted to see the expression on his face when I pressed inside, and I wasn’t disappointed.  

Rich howled, his eyes going wide.  I watched his impressive arms inflate to twice their size as he clutched at the couch.  I could practically see the new connections forming in his brain.  He whimpered and cried, begging me to go harder and faster.  I wasn’t surprised that Rich wanted a pounding, and I loved the way his plump pecs bounced with each slamming thrust.  I knew full well how many times the sculpted stud had been in this exact position, only with him in his clothes fucking the brains out of whichever naked woman had been lucky enough to catch his eye that day.  But after only a handful of nightly visits he was all too happy to swap places, his shaking package still an afterthought as it oozed untouched against his tank tread abs.  By the time we were done he was hoarse from howling and tears of ecstasy streamed down his face.  He didn’t want to let me go.  Before I could pull out he tugged me down for another kiss, tensing his well-built legs to keep me in place and inside for as long as possible.  

After that, there was no going back.  Now, Rich spends his time at work, the gym, or my house, wearing as little as possible for those last two options.  It’s not uncommon for me to come home and find the handsome blonde waiting for me in nothing but a baggy tanktop, or to discover him stretched out in the backyard in nothing but a thong, sunning his ample, eager cheeks.  He’s been spending extra time on his inflating bubble at the gym, and he’s been letting everyone see his progress as he lifts in nothing but his tiny shorts and struts naked around the locker room and sauna.  Before, his stuffed bulge was his pride and joy, but now the heavy organ is almost an annoyance since it pulls attention away from his real hungry backside.  Rich always liked to show off in a “shirtless gym selfie” kind of way, but now he’s grown to love exposing himself in full, finding whatever opportunity he can to be bare in front of others.  I recently suggested that he start going back to strip clubs since he used to love them so much, only now he’s the one up on stage.  He’s been a hit so far, and I’m happy to see that even the extra attention hasn’t shaken his original dedication.  He’s happy to let the other guys look, but instead of hopping from bed to bed like he used to, I’m the only one that can touch.   

Word is starting to get around that some of the guys he used to run with aren’t thrilled about Rich’s new direction in life.  He hasn’t been any more shy about his exploits than he was in the past, only now instead of bragging about his dick and posting memes about pussy, he’s posting memes about getting dick and bragging about how good he is with his ass.  He still posts shirtless selfies only now he’s gone full body, and apparently the sight of their former wingman prancing around in as little as possible and getting naked on stage hasn’t sat well with the boys.  

I told him not to worry.  They’d be having some interesting dreams of their own soon enough.