The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Holly asked, pointing her cup of coffee at Ed. “You just said you built an MRI machine that can almost be folded up and put in my purse! That has to be worth something. Why don’t you write that up?”

“Because that’s Melissa’s topic,” replied Ed.

The diminutive blonde shook her head. “No, Melissa’s research performed with it is her topic. How long did it take you to build the thing, anyway?”

“About a year, but—”

“There you go! A year’s work has to count for something!”

“But I’m not … that’s not what I came to school to do. It’s too applied. I’m a physicist—a generalist, really.”

“You aren’t going to get a Master of Generalist Studies, Eddie—” She saw the intake of breath and blurted, “Ed! Sorry. What’s up with that, anyway? What’s wrong with Eddie?”

“I dunno. I like Ed. Eddie’s too …. It just doesn’t sound right for a guy who’s teaching at a college, but Edward makes me sound like I’m some arrogant intellectual jerk. Back when I first got to college, I had this one TA named Reginald, and he ….” Ed gave a shrug of surrender. “He was a prick. Everybody hated him.”

“Good enough for me, I guess,” Holly said, shrugging. “Back to your degree thing. Master of Generalist Studies doesn’t exist. You have to find something short—but not too short—sweet, and interesting enough to get support from a sponsor. My dad says that it doesn’t even have to be a good idea or useful, if you can get the right sponsor, and he knows this stuff inside out.”

“But I want to do something useful. I just don’t know what yet.”

“Then do what you know: Your brain scanner. Besides, it is useful! You don’t want to be in school forever, do you?”

Stopping and thinking about that for a moment, Ed realized, “I think I do, actually. It’s peaceful around here and ….”

“And what?”

And the girls sure are nice looking, thought Ed. “I just like it here,” he finished.

“I’ll bet you do,” laughed Holly, her eyes twinkling and her perpetual smile widening as though she’d caught his unspoken comment and liked it. Obviously the girl was telepathic. “You know, this talking thing you’re doing now makes making a conversation a lot easier. I don’t have to keep nattering.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You know, like earlier? I just about wore my throat out trying to find something for us to talk about. To, you know, get to know you.”

“Oh. I thought you were just obsessed with my, er …,” Ed dropped into a mumbled whisper, “dick.”

Holly’s face went red. “Was I really that transparent?”

Ed said nothing and simply nodded. Sure, even with a massive dick his chances with Holly were almost zero, but there was no point completely ruining things by saying something stupid.

Her blush deepened and Ed shifted his posture to relieve the renewed pressure in his already weakened pants.

“Sorry. I’ve just never seen one that big before.” She went redder and added, “Not that I’ve seen all that many. But I’m not some blushing virgin, either or …. Or maybe I’ll stop digging myself deeper holes. But it is pretty impressive.”

“Bit of a surprise for me, too,” mumbled Ed, not wanting to rehash the earlier humiliations. “What did you want back at the lab anyway?”

The soft blue eyes drifted and her face slowly tightened, looking frustrated. “I can’t remember. I was looking for something, but …. Have you ever felt kind of … hollow? Like something is missing and you don’t know what? You want something and it’s just….”

Her right hand waved about a foot away from her head as she ended the long pause. “You know, over here. You can feel that it’s missing and you need it but you don’t really know what it is that you’re missing. It’s annoying and the feeling’s been with me since Friday, so I started retracing my steps. That’s why I was there. Maybe I just needed to talk to someone. Don’t mind me. I’m babbling again. Doesn’t matter. You talk for a while. Tell me something.”

Holly went silent, and without her driving the conversation, it died out. That was fine, just sitting and looking at Holly was more than enough for Ed. Her perfect eyes flickered. Then again, but brighter.

“What?” she prompted, noticing his confused stare. Staring into each other’s eyes, she leaned forward.

“Your eyes really do twinkle …” then he realized it was just the reflection of car headlights on her glasses. Headlights?

It had gotten dark outside. Ed looked around for a clock. “Do you have a watch? What time is it?”

Holly pulled out and looked at her cell phone. “Almost seven-thirty, why?”

“Two hours! I’ve got to get back to work! Melissa! She’ll …!”

“Melissa.” Holly’s eyes narrowed. “She’s hot, huh?”

“What? Yeah! Er, I guess so.”

The beautiful eyes darkened. “Well, you better get back to her then.”

Ed looked at Holly’s lovely, expressive face and read “Game Over.” He’d fucked it up by mentioning Melissa. Just like he always did, he fucked it up. So he did what he always did and slunk away.

Two hours with a girl, thought Ed, amazed at the longevity of the, admittedly one sided, conversation. That’s got to be a record. Actually, no. Kimberly’s got the record. But Kimberly was all sex. One-one-nine—Holly—was all talk. Both are obsessed with my dick, though, so that’s not anything that I really did.

Leaves crunched underfoot as he plodded through the park between the applied sciences building and the Beckett Plaza and replayed the evening, trying to determine exactly when and where he’d gone wrong. Mentioning Melissa’s definitely where it ended, but did I miss any signs leading up to it? How do I not screw things up next time? With a huge dick I’ve got a hell of a door opener with the ladies, but how do I use it without getting arrested for indecency? They’ve got to want more than that; I do. Don’t I?

He hiked his pants back up as a gust of wind shook the trees around him. Do I even want this? It’s going to be pretty high maintenance if I’m going to burst my pants every time I see a hot girl. Holly’s pretty short, so maybe I should go for eight or nine inches. It looks cool and all, but it’s stupid if it won’t fit.

Maybe I should just talk more. Maybe I can explain myself in a dream. Maybe I could, if I knew where Holly lived. I don’t even know her full name or her number.

Ed’s foot lashed out and the target of his vicious assault, a stone, careened into the woods. “Freddy Kreuger’s not the only complete fuck up.”

It was in this period of absolute, rock-bottom misery that something pink and fuzzy dropped onto his head. It slid down onto his back before grabbing hold and digging claws into his jacket.

“Move and I gut you, human,” said a squeaky voice. “What did Stormy give you?”

“What?”

Ed looked over his shoulder and into the face of a pink stuffed bear. If not for the malevolent glare and the bared teeth, it would have been cute.

“Face forward and answer the question or I’ll cut you open and hang you from the branches by your intestines.”

His head snapped to the front and looked down the pathway to the safety of the applied sciences building. “I-I don’t understand the question. Who are you?”

“Stormy met with you earlier,” barked the bear, ignoring Ed’s counter question. “What did he give you?”

“Stormy? The teddy bear with the guns?”

“Yes, the teddy bear with the guns, you stupid shit.” A very small, very sharp knife poked into his back. “A fat, blue motherfucker with a cloud on his belly. And a stiletto in one eye, if you happen to find the meddling asshole’s corpse.”

“You killed him? Why? He didn’t give me anything.” Ed paused for a moment and then, “Hey, are you Malala Tet?”

“Fuck you,” the voice growled. “And fuck the French, too.”

The French? Ed’s face screwed up into frightened confusion. Is Malala Tet some French guy?

“We tried it our way,” the squeaky voice continued, “the cute and cuddly way, once. Now we’re doing it your way, and all that you humans seem to understand is violence. If we have to, we’ll kill every last fucking one of you.” The knife jabbed harder into his back. “Personally, I wouldn’t lose a minute of sleep over exterminating your entire worthless species, so answer or bleed. What did he give you and where did you put it?”

The last few words were each punctuated with pokes from the knife, so Ed slipped out of his jacket and ran as fast as he could while holding his pants up.

“Yer gonna pay for this,” shouted a muffled voice as the pink creature struggled to escape from under the tent-like windbreaker.

No one was in the lab when Ed got there, or if they were, they weren’t answering the door buzzer. His keys were in his abandoned jacket, so there was no way for him to find out. Still, he was inside a well-lit building. The genocidal teddy bear wouldn’t attack him in here, would it? Ed went to the open computing lab on the third floor and tried to do what little work he could without access to his notes or the full power of his still-panicked brain.

At eight thirty, he gave up on waiting and risked it outside again. Detouring slightly out of his way to the bus loop, Ed took a peek down the path he’d been ambushed on. His jacket lay where he left it, more or less. Everything looked normal.

Walking very carefully, very quietly, and looking as close to everywhere at once as was humanly possible, he stepped onto the path. Ed picked up the jacket and held it up to the light. The insane stuffed animal had carved it up viciously and taken a vengeance of sorts by urinating on it. Still, it jingled when he picked it up, so his loose change and keys were there.

“God willing, I can get home without being trampled to death by My Little Pony,” mumbled Ed. He recovered his keys and coins before tossing the ruined jacket into the next garbage can he found.

Well past ten, Ed dropped into a kitchen chair with a plate of reheated dinner in front of him, too frazzled to do homework. The insane demands of The Professor, the absolute and unbridled hotness of one-one-nine, psychotic fluffy animals, and accidentally screwing up Melissa’s relationship with her roommate all preyed on his mind.

First chance I get, Tanya is getting put back to normal, Ed resolved. She’s probably going nuts as a lesbian.

What he really wanted to do was to take the night off and call Kimberly, but by now Kim would be asleep and had to work tomorrow. In a way, that made things easier, but actually making out with a real-life uninhibited slut was far and away more satisfying than dream sex.

Not that dream sex doesn’t have its advantages, but it makes a real mess of your ….

“My bed!” Ed shot up part way out of his seat and his stiff cock hit the bottom of the table with a meaty smack. After the fact, he realized that daydreaming about Kimberly (and one-one-nine) had fairly predictable results that normally he could have ignored. Normally, his pants were properly buttoned and had a functioning zipper. Normally he didn’t sport a dick that made the Colossus of Rhodes look like a girl. Normally ….

Normally was yesterday afternoon sort of. Glancing around nervously, he slid partway beneath the table to hide. Pulling his shirt down over it didn’t help much, so he pulled his seat in close to the table and ate slowly.

Once the friendly giant calmed down, tamed by Ed mentally organizing his workload for the next few days, Ed devoured the rest of his dinner and ran off to check the state of his room. It was still the generally expected pig sty and the mattress was likely stained forever, but at least it was now merely damp. The fan had been taken, though; he could hear it humming in Audrey’s room. He could also hear Audrey dream-whispering sweet nothings to some guy named Paul, so Ed sat down on his bed and let his mind drift.

Moments later, in Audrey’s dream

This was his sister, not some girl from school or down the street, so he didn’t want to do anything over the top, just help her out a little. Maybe set things up so she could get a date with the Paul guy. How hard could it be? Paul was a guy, right?

Who the hell is Paul anyway?

Zooming in on the two lovebirds, unseen and unheard, Ed caught his sister ask, “So you’ve left Sophie for me?”

“Zofia’s a bitch,” said Paul, reciting from the Harlequin Romance manual of love. “I should have been yours all along. How could I have been so blind for so long? You’re the only girl for me! Whenever I look at you, I get lost in the soft hazel depths of your eyes.”

Talk about sappy, thought Ed, trying to get a feel for Paul. Or at least what Audrey expected from Paul. If he was this much of a dip in real life and could still get girls then life had a lot to answer for to Ed. Besides, Audrey’s got—

“My eyes are brown, Paul,” groaned Audrey, pushing her paramour away. “Even in a dream you’re still stuck on Sophie. This is so useless. Why can’t I be a normal girl and dream about the guy I do have?”

She stood, posed melodramatically, and screamed at the heavens, “Why does my dream guy have to be a complete dick?”

Paul vanished with a popping sound and was replaced by an elegantly dressed, leggy, blonde woman. Her age was somewhat disguised by her attire, but she couldn’t have been much older than Audrey. Admittedly, his sister wasn’t likely to paint her arch nemesis in stellar light, but with all her makeup, Sophie looked far too manufactured for Ed’s tastes, except for her expression. Under her makeup, the surprised and shocked face looked natural, but off-putting, so he wiped away the flash of terror and she fell into a somewhat sour pout.

Ed replaced her evening gown with a bikini and had her blonde hair fall down around her shoulders. Much better, but still something was missing. He pasted a warm-but-hungry smile on the image and thought about giving her a bit more up front, but decided against it. That slender a body wouldn’t be able to support what he had in mind with any level of grace or dignity.

“So that’s the competition, eh, sis?”

“Hi, Eddie,” Audrey said without bothering to look at him. “Yeah. Zofia Kowalczyk—Sophie. The Wanna-be European man-trap and bane of my existence in real life. And in my sex fantasies, apparently.”

She paused for a moment. “What the hell are you doing here anyway, Eddie?”

“Ed,” he mumbled. “Just thought you might want someone to talk to. Say, d’you know who Malala Tet is?”

Audrey shook her head. “Sounds Egyptian.”

“That’s what I thought, but apparently he’s French.”

“Whatever.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “I’d like to be alone right now.”

To his sister’s visible surprise, Ed stood his ground. “Who’s Paul?”

“Paul? Just one of the guys at the hospital.”

“But you like him, huh?”

“Of course I do! He’s cute and he’s smart, but he’s hooked on Zofia. Look at her!” Audrey pointed at the bikini-clad mannequin with the slowly swelling breasts. Her vocalized anger sputtered out, and she blinked. “Gah! Stupid fucking dream! The last thing she needs are tits like that! She’s already got everything else.”

Whoops. Ed reined in his subconscious and the mock Zofia’s breasts settled into an impressive pair of bikini-supported, fleshy baseballs.

“I don’t stand a chance in real life, let alone against that! Look at her smile. Bitch looks like she’s about to suck somebody’s dick off. That’s probably part of how she beat me to Paul. She looks so cultured, so refined, but guys never see her in the ladies’ room. The stupid accent goes away and she goes on and on about her exploits and …. And she really pisses me off.”

“Sounds like you should introduce us,” Ed said with a suggestive wink.

“You?” Audrey stared at her brother, shocked. “Ed, she’d eat you for breakfast.”

“Kind of what I’m hoping for,” Ed said, grinning.

“That’s not what I meant, Eddie-ot. She’d suck you dry—and not that way either, pervert—just like she’s doing to Paul. She’ll finish him off sooner or later, but I don’t want to wait and pick him up on the rebound. There wouldn’t be anything left worth having.”

He shrugged. “So how can I help you save Paul?”

“What?”

“What do you need to seduce Paul away from the evil witch?”

“Oh, let’s see,” she said sarcastically, counting on her fingers. “A rich Dad, a fast car, and a sexy body that looks fantastic in an evening gown. To start with.”

Drawing a lot on Melissa, Kimberly, and Holly, Ed began to tinker. Audrey already stood a few inches taller, all of the extra height in taut, toned legs. “Does it have to be an evening gown? I’m partial to bikinis.”

“I noticed. Stop staring at her.” Audrey sighed. As the air hissed out between her lips, her waist seemed to be sucked inwards, becoming an hourglass emulation of Holly’s short, but deeply curved, body. A sexual parody of the Law of Conservation of Mass caused her breasts to swell outwards until they were comparable in shape to Ed’s imaginings of Melissa’s stunningly large and firm rack, more or less. More, actually, closer to in size to Kimberly but nothing like the excesses he’d gone to on Tanya or Marsha.

Not noticing her own transformation, Audrey picked on her petrified foe. “Sophie’s boobs aren’t really that big. Jesus. They look like softballs. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I even dream her right? What the fuck? I swear her tits are growing. Bitch.”

Ignoring his sister’s complaints, and clamping down on his subconscious’s tendency to plump up Sophie’s breasts even when he wasn’t looking, Ed used the twinkle of Holly’s blue eyes as a pattern for Audrey’s brown, but he had to lighten them to make it work. He finally settled on a hazel similar to Zofia’s. Very similar.

“In real life, she looks like a twig in a bikini,” continued his sister, oblivious to the wave of detailing as it passed up her body, clearing her complexion and sculpting her body into a Kimberly-like, tanned and well exercised look. “The beach is the only place I stand a chance. Or would if I lost about ten pounds.”

“Done,” said Ed, figuring he’d lopped off at least that. Mind you she was taller and bustier now, so maybe he hadn’t. He looked around and not spotting what he sought, he said, “You need a mirror in here, Audrey.”

“There’s one on top of the dresser.” She walked over, moved some stuff and lifted it up. “See? Just fold it up and—”

She stared at the reflection for a few seconds. “Very funny.”

Audrey turned, her breasts bouncing then swaying when she stopped, to the equally top-heavy mannequin of her nemesis. “See bitch? You aren’t the only one who can look hot and grow huge tits in a dream.” She posed beside the faux Zofia to show her hourglass waist and full blouse off by comparison to an inferior model. “Ha! Now if only I really looked like this. Paul would just cream. Boobs’re a bit much, but that’s what it seems to take, these days.”

“Great!” enthused Ed, genuinely pleased with the result as he waved his fingers in front of her face, Jedi style, “Now you have a good sleep, forget all about this dream, and wake up in the morning as if nothing has changed.”

Ed wasn’t sure that last bit was needed, but it wouldn’t be nice if she woke up and freaked out like the girls he’d changed before he’d realized what he was doing. Or woke up like Kimberly, remembering everything.

“Ah hem!”

Ed’s mom cleared her throat from his doorway, shocking him all the way out of Audrey’s dream. She marched in and dropped a set of bed linen in his lap.

“Ed, don’t bother trying right now because I am exhausted, but you are going to explain to me what happened to your bed, so don’t go anywhere in the morning until after we’ve talked.”

Ed nodded and after she’d left, he finally started breathing again. The he got up and closed the door before checking on a few other changes. By nothing other than complete fluke, his mom hadn’t wandered in while his rock-hard dick was still the size of his forearm and sticking out of his pants. Unless she’d been waiting outside for a while, that is.

He shuddered. Don’t want to think about that.

Shutting the door again before inspecting the equipment, it was still well into what Ed thought would be comfortably into “Holy Shit!” territory, but not as stupidly huge as it had been after last night. He nodded to himself and then made his bed, throwing down an extra layer of blanket on the mattress to absorb the cold from the remaining dampness.

Finally, exhausted from an exceptionally strange day, he lay down to sleep. And didn’t. After a half hour of bored ceiling examination, Ed looked at his other nocturnal options. Maybe I should drop in on Kimberly for a while. I’m sure she’d love a visit.

She would have, but when Ed focussed on the world of dreams he heard the frightened voice and got a little bit distracted.

“Hello?” called a woman’s voice. “Someone help me! Please?”

Ed looked across his darkened room before realizing he wasn’t in his room. Immediately, in response to his will, the dreamscape brightened. It was still his room, more or less, but the busty, blond, and bikini-clad Zofia mannequin stood in the corner like a trophy.

“Uh … Hello? Zofia?”

“Oh thank God,” said the voice. “I’m trapped here. I can’t move! It’s taken me hours just to be able to talk. Please, you must help me!”

“Just wake up and it’ll be over. You’re dreaming.”

“This is a dream?” she asked. “It’s not my dream! I was out walking and then poof! Stuck. I couldn’t move! I’m a prisoner! Please let me go! Wake me! Free me and I’ll do anything!”

Ed got up and looked more closely at the mannequin. “Are you really in there?”

“Yes! I can hear you better now. You are closer!”

He poked the mannequin in the arm. It definitely didn’t feel like plastic, but better safe than sorry. “You feel that?”

“Yes!”

“Oh,” said Ed. “Oh shit. Sorry about that. I think you got mixed up in my sister’s dream. I don’t know how, though; I’m just getting used to this stuff.”

Ed thought about freeing the girl, changing the dream so that she could move again. Raw terror flashed across her no longer frozen face and she slumped to the floor. Then she pushed her torso off the floor her hands and looked up at him, still visibly terrified. “You did this? To me? Why?”

“I didn’t! I don’t think I did.” He reached down to help her up, but he didn’t have to do that. With a thought, she was standing again, but obviously not ready for it. He had to reach out and steady her before she fell again. “Oops. If I did, I’m really sorry. I just found out I could make dreams real a couple days ago—”

She hugged herself, letting out a yelp of surprise when her arms squished her greatly enlarged breasts, and stared at Ed, bug eyed. Then she looked down.

“Real dreams?” she gasped. “You make dreams real? Is that why I look like … this?”

She swept her hands down her pale, slender body. Ed took a look. His subconscious had done a hell of a job, but why not? It probably knows what I like better than I do. Or something like that.

“Probably,” he said. “I was just helping out my sister and you just got … involved, somehow. I didn’t mean to make you prettier, you just—”

“Prettier!” she shrieked, her face red with rage and disgust. “I look fake! Like a doll! Who are you?”

“Eddie … er. Ed. Actually, you looked more like a doll before.” Her hands clenched into fists. Any second now she was going to belt him, but what the hell. It was only a dream, so he went for it. “And you looked way too serious. Now you look seriously hot.”

Her entire expression, her entire attitude, changed. She softened. “Now I’m … hot?”

“Very hot,” Ed confirmed. “Beautiful, even.”

Her eyes softened and the growing frown diminished. “Beautiful. Before I was beautiful and elegant! Now my breasts are too big for my body. I look like pregnant woman.”

“You kidding? They’re perfect! You look like a model.”

The fists unclenched and one hand rose experimentally to poke a boob. Her body relaxed and she shifted her weight onto one leg. She had really nice hips. Not quite the twig Audrey paints her as. This Paul guy has really good taste. Or maybe I changed that, too. Hard to tell, since I never met her before.

“I look like model before,” Zofia complained. It was a sexy complaint, thought, not a whiney complaint. More like a statement of fact. “Just different model. You change my body,” She accused. The probing hand switched from exploration to outright caress and her nipples sprung out, making large peaks in the blue, and increasingly overloaded, bikini top. “Give me soft, full, perfect breasts. This all you do?”

“Uh, no. I gave you a nicer smile,” Ed smiled himself as Zofia flushed and reluctantly pulled her hands away from her chest.

Then she did something with her eyes as she tried out the sexy/hungry smile. And licked her lips in the process. Her half-lidded and lusty gaze met his appraising one. In an instant her expression had shifted from wary to dead sexy. Zofia was appraising him and it looked as thought she liked what she saw! That’s why Ed didn’t notice her shifting balance until a hand gripped his cock. That’s also when Ed realized he was naked again.

“You also give yourself this?” She squeezed and gave a quick pump. “You have a large imagination.” Her thumb rubbed up the glans and across the head, using the leaking precum to lubricate the slow, circular motion.

“What else you do, Ed?” she asked, her eyes twinkling as she forced a groan out of him. “You make poor, lost girl into happy woman?”

Her lips parted as she leaned towards him and stood on her toes for a kiss. Breasts crushed into his chest, an arm wrapped around his neck, and she didn’t let up on his hardening dick—until she let go in order to caress his balls. Her tongue played across his lips, looking for an opening. Instinctively he made one, and she let out a soft moan as she stole into his mouth.

Audrey didn’t like Zofia? How could anyone not like Zofia?

“First time should be grand affair, Edward,” she cooed, temporarily breaking the kiss and leading him back to his bed. His large; built for sexual gymnastics; and, most importantly, clean bed. His room was clean. It didn’t even look like his room, not with the roaring fire and the small table with the wine glasses.

Her bikini vanished, replaced by an evening gown again—Marsha’s evening gown. The one that was tight where it needed to be, loose where it lent mobility, and radiated raw sexuality just about everywhere. The one designed to be worn by no lesser mortal than a tall, slender fashion model. In Ed’s mind, it fit Zofia very well, swooping down in front to cup and display her weighty breasts.

She jolted at the change of attire and broke off the kiss. She let go, but Ed didn’t mind. He wanted to take a look more than he needed to be fondled to orgasm.

Yeah, Ed’s pretty fucked up sometimes.

Taking a breather, they both looked at her body as presented by the reflection in the large glass wall that made up the outside of the dream room. Starting at the bottom, Ed’s eyes worked upwards. Glimpses of her long, white legs, emphasized by a pair of heels that made her almost as tall as he was, were granted by a cut running from ankle to hip. The rest was concealed, only revealing hints of well designed calves and thighs and rounded ass. Her slim waist was shrouded in a darkness that somehow made it stand out all the more, widening is it went upwards to her bare shoulders in behind, and her full chest out front.

The gown didn’t make her breasts look too big for her body at all. As he’d said earlier, they looked perfect. At least to Ed they did.

A long neck led up to the main event, her face. Her makeup was back, but understated this time. And thanks to Ed, she really didn’t need much anymore.

Ed couldn’t stop himself. Her hair piled up on top of her head, held by clips and combs. He’d lifted the style from a remembered picture—probably a porn star and somehow that seemed wrong for his Zofia, but it was the best he could do. Judging by her face as she reached upwards to move a ringlet out from in front of her face and slip it back behind her ear, she liked it, too.

Zofia obviously didn’t belong on the beach at all. He’d been an idiot to try and fit her into a bikini when she could look like this!

The right tool for the job, thought Ed. The right body in the right dress at the right time could be far and away more impressive than even full nudity. He adjusted his suddenly too-tight tie, then looked down. He sat on the love-making bed in a dress suit. For a moment he was surprised, but after a another moment’s worth of thought it seemed only fair that they were both dressed to the nines.

“This is very nice gown,” said Zofia after her own inspection. She twirled, balanced perfectly despite the awkward looking high heels, gazing with an intensely hungry look at Ed when she stopped. “I like your imagination. Way you see is very pretty. Ed …? You dance?”

The soft voice and slightly mangled syntax demanded that Ed lie. “Yeeeah?”

“Good!” She pressed her exquisite body against his and whispered into his ear, “We dance.”

There was no music, but she began to move, forcing Ed to move clumsily with her. He wracked his brain looking for memories of dances, but as you can probably imagine, he didn’t have many.

Zofia would know, but how?

Zofia did know, suddenly Ed could see that. She knew exactly what she wanted from him. As he tapped into her knowledge of dancing and what she wanted from a dancing partner, things improved greatly. She melted against him, but still led. He knew what she wanted, how she wanted it, and it was so easy to give it. They were almost one. An unseen orchestra started playing slow, soft music plucked from the depths of his partner’s brain.

Inside and out, Ed could feel the change in her. Parts of her mind were lighting up as he began to fulfill her most romantic dreams of dance. He watched her as enjoyment and pleasure teased her mind further and further open to him until her innermost thoughts were laid bare. He tried not to look—she deserved her privacy after all—but some things she practically screamed aloud.

For example,

Whoever he is, he’s worth keeping for dancing alone. I’ve never felt so complete. The way he moves with me …. Oh yes. It is like a dream.

Dreams. If this is just a dream, but it isn’t. It can’t be. I was walking with Paul, then I froze, now I’m here, dancing with a guy I don’t even know who made me over into some fantasy woman. But, God help me, I like it! It feels so wonderful to be a guy’s perfect woman.

Perfect for him, perfect for seducing him. He’s remade me into everything he wants in a woman, and if I ever needed a reason to wrap a guy around my finger, this is it! The things he can give me! The things I could do with his magic. Never mind him, He can make me into whatever I want to be, give me anything I want!

Ohh! This is making me so hot! So horny! This is way better than just getting some rich guy! Take it slow, Sophie. Have your fun, but don’t blow it! This is the ultimate meal ticket and he’s gonna be soooo mine!

Ed almost stopped dancing. She hadn’t even been thinking in Russian or whatever—He took another quick peek. She hadn’t been thinking in Polish. She didn’t even know Polish, beyond a few words she’d learned from her grandparents. That made sense, in hindsight. The accent hadn’t started until Zofia had begun to come onto him.

Audrey was right. Sophie was a fake. But Zofia didn’t have to be.

With his erection pressed firmly against her, Sophie had a thought that brought another smile to her face. I wonder if I can take that cock. It’s huge! Be fun to find out, but first I have to make sure won’t lose him after he’s had me. Gotta lead him on for a while first.

Suddenly, Zofia felt warm. And happy. Sort of blissful. An excitement bubbled under the surface, trying to get out. Not coldly calculating, she felt happy, excited … Aroused. I feel like I could dance all night. I want to dance all night! Dance and more. Much, much more. Oh my god. Am I falling in love?

The little “you are turning me on” sound she made in the back of her throat to let guys know they were making headway slipped out, unbidden. That had only happened once or twice before, and even then, only in the middle of heavy intercourse. Not necking, or fooling around, but during honest-to-god fucking with someone who really knew what they were doing. It made sense in this case.

Yes, of course it does. Never I dance like this before. So tight. So close. So in tune with each other and music. I fake nothing, this time. Pressing into Ed tighter, she let her hips break with the music and make the “I am soooo horny” circular motions that drove guys wild. Is like making love standing up! Never I feel … Never I want anything like this before. Don’t be greedy, Zofia. Don’t let it end, please, don’t let it end.

“Mmmmmm. Drive me wild.” She shivered and bit his ear softly as her actions backfired. From their contact point at her groin, electricity shot up and down her spine, a direct line between the wet fire building at her core and her increasingly fuzzy mind. “Don’t stop,” Zofia sighed, beginning to nibble on his neck.

The dance began to fall apart as her concentration disintegrated. She couldn’t keep the rhythm. She stumbled. She couldn’t remember the steps. He’d touch her, move her, and she’d forget everything but his soft embrace.

“Lead,” she murmured, trying to still her heart and stay under control.

She didn’t know what to do about her hands. Rather than stay where she put them—in proper dancing positions—they kept going off to explore. Ed didn’t seem so painfully skinny in a tuxedo. Not to her fingers, anyway. He looked, and felt, good in the suit, but she wanted it gone.

He also went places he should not—not during a dance, though definitely afterwards—but when his hands moved, they trailed sparks. Where they rested, an uncomfortable heat built. Uncomfortable, but only for so long before she began to crave it. And then he’d move them, the teasing bastard. The hands would move and she’d feel the anticipation of their return—or what they would do next—and the withdrawal at the same time.

“Stop teasing. Do not stop. Confusing me. Lead,” she pleaded, her pulse racing.

She was and wasn’t trying to turn a guy into mush anymore. He’d turned her into mush. Or maybe she’d turned herself into mush. Either way she wanted the dance for the contact with him. To touch him, feel him, and the thoughts of seduction and power washed away. She wanted, desired, needed, other things a lot more than she wanted money and power.

Her own goal changed. Zofia let herself run wild. Maybe she could make him feel so wildly intense. So out of control. Make him want, desire, need her touch. Then he would know how she felt: Confused and helpless. But for that, she needed control. She needed to be led.

“Too much,” she sobbed, surrendering. “Lead!”

She let Ed completely take over the dance and all the heat in the world washed over her. Her whole body tingled and shouted in irresponsible joy. It felt like she’d gone from being trapped in a dream to being trapped in a cheesy romance novel.

Trapped! But, God help me, I want it! I love it! I want more!

Zofia and Eddie twirled around under the glass dome of a large penthouse suite atop a building that gave a view of the entire world out to the horizon. The night sky was open around her, and she danced among the stars.

But the more she danced, the more she wanted more than simply dancing. Dancing was sexy, but it was a prelude. It was foreplay, and she was tired of foreplay.

“What do you do to me?” she whispered, her head rested on his shoulder. More sounds, new sounds, trickled out of her. Whatever they were, they had the same roots: one part wonder, one part joy and several parts frustration.

“Relax,” he said. “Relax and enjoy.”

“Cannot!” Zofia protested, dragging her lips over his cheek and to his mouth. “Enjoy, yes. Relax never. What you are doing to me? Want more! Want all! Want you!”

“You are so greedy,” Ed said and gave her a quick pecking kiss as they swung past the bed.

“Yesss,” she sighed. “Greedy.” Her wandering hands clapped onto the sides of his head and pulled him into a deeper, better, hungrier kiss. No restraint at all was shown as she took what she wanted.

She took the lead again. She spun and pushed Ed away so that he fell onto the silky, red cushions. Then she fell onto Ed, growling and groping and kissing and writhing. She moaned. She yelped. She made a complete fool of herself and didn’t care. The need he’d aroused was paramount and would not, could not, be denied.

Wrapped around Ed, clutching him tight, she feasted on his lips and dreamt of all the things she’d do to him; all the things he’d do to her. Things she’d seen. Things she’d heard about, thought about, some she’d even done. Her dream within a dream raged uninhibited. No taboos existed between her and Ed, none could withstand the heat without being burned away.

But dreaming was worse than foreplay, and she was impatient. Too impatient even to satisfy the strange yearning to tear the zipper out of his pants and lick, suck, and fondle his powerful, throbbing cock until it spent itself again and again in her mouth. That and other scalding pleasures would have to wait. In time they would experience everything their bodies and minds could offer.

“Can’t wait. Never have I felt like this,” she gasped, fighting the belt buckle open. The shirt, the pants themselves, could wait. Would wait. She had to feel him inside her or she’d go mad. Acted like it lot of times, but never I felt it. I burn for him. Whether love or lust doesn’t matter.

Stop shaking, she commanded her hands. This is so much easier if you stop shaking. Finally freeing what she wanted from the bondage of fabric, she hungered to take him in her mouth. It was effective and another tool, and sometimes done for pleasure, but ….

“No. No more foreplay.” The foot-to-hip-length slit in the gown proved its worth as she slid the dress out of the way and straddled Ed. The black silk panties went next, shoved off to the side to reveal—

“You aren’t a blonde?” asked her lover.

“I am whatever you want, Ed,” She cooed, trying to ignore the break in the mood. In her state, almost agonizingly aroused, it wasn’t hard. “I am yours. Forever.”

Holding his cock with one hand and her panties with the other, she lowered her now completely blonde body gracefully onto him. If it hadn’t been a dream, she would have certainly fallen over, but it was a dream and he slid effortlessly into her, filling her utterly. Overwhelming her utterly. Her body and mind bent and broke together,

And in the aftermath of a frantic, thrashing, screaming, jolting explosion of raw life, she found patience, of a sort. Ed placed his hands on her waist and he began to lead again, forcing her to deny her still-unsatisfied needs and slowly guiding her to another unimaginable eruption. For a girl used to what she wanted, when she wanted it, the treatment was maddening. And exquisite. Led by both lover and hunger, Zofia danced again, knowing she was being slowly built up to something special. She was being tortured so that she could enjoy something yet to come to the fullest imaginable extent.

Moving slowly, carefully, they danced together for what felt like hours, stopping only to remove her panties and Ed’s dress pants when they became too uncomfortable. By mutual desire, the gown and dress jacket stayed. It felt more the dance that way. Slow, relaxed and pleasant, speeding up as the music rose and floating softly down after climax, but never coming all the way down. Every peak higher and the valley never lower, there was always something more just beyond her.

More foreplay, rippled through her mind as she lay beneath Ed, her body slowly undulating in the rhythm he’d set and her hands clutching bunches of his wrinkled and sorely used clothing. Is fun, but not enough.

The night began to fail, the surrounding dark blue becoming light.

Why? she asked herself, locking her ankles behind his back to pull Ed closer. Why allow one glorious release and then no more? He— He is doing what I do. He show me what it could be, and now he holds it ransom. Is not dance. Is control. Is tease.

“Tired of teasing,” Zofia told Ed, but went unheard, the sound locked between their lips. Her patience falling as the sun rose, she squirmed, speeding her motions to goad him into a faster, more passionate pace. In the context of the dance, she knew it was wrong to take the lead again for herself, but it was the only way.

“Tired of teasing,” she said, forcing the words out between gasping, increasingly wild kisses. He was taking the physical hints and, emboldened, she gripped Ed tighter and pushed for a less tender, still harder beat, for an end to the slow dance.

The sun cracked over the horizon. Its rays came slowly down to bathe the bed, the lovers, and fill them with fire. Playtime was over. She moved. Her body moved. The world moved.

Zofia’s eyes lit up and, “No more foreplay,” she screamed, bucking madly against him. Rolling them over, she leaned back, sitting on him again as she had at the beginning when mad passion ruled her, mind and body. “No more slow!”

The gown. That was part of the dance. It bound her to the slow music. Zofia hated it. The gown had to die. She grabbed at the neck of the splendid gown with both hands and tore it open with a savagery that surprised both of them. She could see it in Eddie’s eyes. She felt it in her heart.

“Should have done long ago.” She had him. Eddie’s face was a picture of raw wonder as her perfect breasts flopped out of the ruined dress, bouncing as the lovers moved. She exulted with the gown ripped free of her body. More importantly, her body free of it’s shackles and exposed to his eyes and hands. And his lips. It was the lips that eventually made the biggest impression.

Her hair gleamed in the morning rays. “This is my time,” she said, grinding down on his hot shaft and then heaving up, almost off of him. “Dancing is sport for night. Day is time for most hot life!”

No longer shaking, her hands ripped at his jacket and shirt, tearing like an animal trying to free itself from a trap. She was, in a way. she fought to free herself of constrained passions by destroying the last remainder of the slow dance. Seeking to fully enjoy the dawn of a new day and all the light and majesty that came with it.

Her frantic motions pulled his mouth off her breasts, denying the singing glory the lips and tongue fed into the sensitive nipples, one of his many gifts to her, but it was worth it. She let her weight pull her down, glorying in the friction as his entire length pounded in deep. She arched backwards and struggled to rise again, but he caught her. He embraced her and sought out her lips.

The night was hers; the now was all for him. Or maybe it was the other way around. She burned either way.

“For you or me,” she gasped between maddened kisses, driving her body to exhaustion. “It matters not. All night we play at games. Save energy, build passion for now. I take my own measure and we both enjoy.”

Hopelessly and madly in love, she pushed him back down and rode him faster, trying to bring him higher. Up to where she was, lost among the clouds. Trying to live up to the promise of the sun.

Both together, she decided as her body, a dark silhouette surrounded by a golden halo of morning sun, rose and fell, twisted and turned, faster and faster, her moans becoming louder and more guttural. Against the brilliance of the backdrop, the ecstasy on her face was lost, as was the smile as she broke Ed’s control and he began to squirm beneath her as she had so many times under him.

Of the carnal pleasure, there was enough for both. So, greedily, she took all she could. A halo of light surrounded her as she arched, cried out, and finally went still.

Two bears, one red and one pink, sat in chairs far too large for them, surrounded by an ostentatious collection of books and finely carved dark wood.

“If Stormy gave him anything, father, he didn’t have it with him,” squeaked the pink teddy bear as it juggled a set of knives with amazing skill, given only having paws. “I think Stormy was just scouting. Trying to spy out what we are up to.” The bear paused, then spoke again. “The mortal is an idiot. I’d like to kill him.”

“Premature,” replied the tattered red bear. He looked as though at some point in the past he’d fought the family dog and, like all stuffed animals, lost. Still, he managed to maintain an air of nobility about him in the way he sat and held himself. “And think, what would your friend say?”

“Not much,” the pink bear said with a shrug. It snatched its blade out of the air and tossed it back up again. “She doesn’t like him much, either. He stares at her all the time. She’s better off without him around.”

“Regardless, he should be allowed to live until his work is finished. Then you may kill him.”

Pinky smiled. “He is finished.”

“Very well then. Do it quietly and get it over with. I can see that you will keep nagging until you have your fun.”

Before Pinky could make a retort, the double doors leading into the library swung open and a pumpkin painted in a butler’s formal black and white rolled onto the room. It did its best to sketch a legless, armless bow.

“Lord Thlammon, a messenger has arrived from the prince. He requests your presence at your earliest convenience.”

“I lose my patience with this charade,” sighed the red bear. “Why does Jackie waste time with politeness? It is well known by all that we despise one another.” Another sigh. “Ichabod, send back a sickeningly polite response saying that I will be along shortly and have the coach readied. Let him know that my daughter and I will both be in attendance.”

“My lord.” Ichabod pumpkin rolled forward into another bow and then end over end backwards and out the closing door.

“Thanks, Father,” said the pink bear, rolling her eyes. “You know how much I love going to court.”

“We must keep up appearances, my dear. It is politics, Kellimarona. As long as the prince is polite, we must be seen to be equally polite or lose face. You are my key to the hearts and minds of the lower classes—”

“Yes, father,” Pinky sighed. “I know what to do. Smile prettily and don’t kill anyone no matter how much they deserve it.”

Zofia woke up on a strange bed feeling immensely happy, despite still feeling tired and uncomfortable. She still wore what she’d had on the night before, and it wasn’t so nice to sleep in as the lace she had at home.

Her bra was scratching the hell out of her. She looked down and sighed happily. Her perfect breasts, just like in the dream (The Dream!), thrust upwards in defiance of gravity, warping her shirt.

Groggily, she ran a proof-seeking finger up the shirt-compressed flesh and around the nipple that still found the strength to make a dent. A pleasing warmth flooded her and she groaned. Real!

Is good thing I slept through. Zofia smiled her new smile upon finding that her bra had snapped in half under the strain and, discomfort of working her exhausted body ignored, hopped to her feet to get on with her day.

She wavered on the high heels for a moment. Paul put me to bed in my heels? No. His heels! My lover in The Dream! Was dream and is really real! As though floating on a cloud, she danced to the door—stepping over a torn and abused black gown—out into the hall, and slipped into the bathroom as though she’d made the trip dozens of times on dozens of dark nights.

She pulled her top up over her head, feeling herself heat further as her breasts bounced free. Not looking away from her body, a body she’d never in a million years dreamed of having or wanting, she removed the exploded bra and dropped it in the garbage can, glad to be rid of it.

“Million years is too long to wait for body like this.” She smiled into the mirror and noticed the different, happier, way her face moved.

So much better with real smile, she thought before experimentally palming a much-larger-than-yesterday breast. And these! Could they possibly—?

“Mmmmnngghh! Yesssssss.” She stroked softly as pleasure numbed her mind. Almost stumbling, she seated herself on the toilette and began to sexually torture herself by playing with her nipples. Pleasure rang through her and out her lips.

Then she remembered where she was and, unable to contain the need for more, the groping persisted. More quietly, she worked to quickly finish what she’d started. As it had in the night, her mind began to fragment and then shatter into a thousand bliss-spawned fragments just as the bathroom door opened.

Audrey and Zofia screamed together, but for different reasons.