The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Approaching Storm; or Jake’s Tales 2

by Pluto Knee Em

Part 6

I hoped to recount this next part of my tale in a seamless fashion, and I did make an attempt at writing it like all the previous sections, only to scratch through those words in frustration. I’ve been telling this story purely in my voice, through my perspective, and I’m sure there are very good reasons to avoid switching the point of view in the middle of the action.

Nonetheless, I’m going to do just that here, because I’m in a unique position, with the ability to look inside the minds I’ve affected, receiving memory flashes of what others have experienced. Consider this next section, then, as the inevitable blending of two sides of Jake: one a desire-reading savant, due to a talent bestowed upon me by aliens; the other a freewheeling storyteller with a B.A. in English, bestowed upon me by exorbitant tuition.

This switch in viewpoint is not simply for effect; it’s necessary because of the way Brandi, or rather a long reality-altering dream Brandi had, began to drive events. I’d primed her to have it, not understanding how my influence could undermine the invisible divide that keeps the world of the subconscious from re-writing the rules of the possible.

I wasn’t being careless when messing with her mind that way—what were the chances that Brandi could do exactly what I indicated in making her dreams come true? And it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t stolen energy from Amelia, without even knowing I had. That snapping in my brain when we first touched... I think I understand that part now, and to use the language of Amelia’s foretelling, that’s how Brandi’s dream ended up “changing the fabric”, pulling the rest of us for a time into a world of her making.

There were layers beyond even that—reality hadn’t been all it’s cracked up to be for longer than I knew. But that was a revelation yet to come, so we’ll stick to Brandi’s experience for the moment, and how events appeared from her perspective.

She was changed even before her dream kicked in. She knew that something had shifted when she and Jake returned home from Amelia’s, and a smoldering sense of need caught fire as she drove along the beach road. She’d been thinking about Amelia, and her dream work, and whether she should back off from the idea of Jake playing some part in the process. Then, almost like turning onto the beach road flipped an invisible switch, her pulse quickened and she felt a jolt of energy come alive in the sensitive zone between her legs.

She’d been aware that Jake had admired her body several times during the drive. She hadn’t thought too much about it at first, but now she wanted to tease him and watch him get hard. Where that might lead... Fuck, she knew where that would lead—her hands in his pants, and his head between her thighs. She tried to make the thoughts go away. She shouldn’t want it. He was Pascaline’s and she really shouldn’t want that. Only whenever her brain said she didn’t, her body said she did.

She hadn’t even put the car in park before Jake was whisked up the steps into the cottage. The sense of loss that gripped her took her by surprise, and it was worse when Brandi found the communal parts of the house deserted, Pascaline’s bedroom door shut and locked. She experienced a terrible ache, needing to be with Jake longer. It wasn’t jealousy, nothing so simple; instead she burned to thrust her ultra-toned body in his face, and she felt lost when she couldn’t.

She knew he desired her—men were easy to read and there had been signs from the beginning. Her looks were something special and she sometimes flirted just to watch guys squirm, especially at the gym or during her shifts at the bar. And she liked Jake, though not enough to crave his gaze this way. Certainly not enough to feel so devastated when the sounds of afternoon sex spilled though Pascaline’s locked door, and Lori’s voice began to cry out and moan right alongside Pascaline’s.

When had that happened? It was inconceivable that these two friends would decide to share a lover, yet the sounds were unmistakable. More than that, how could one guy be driving two women into a frenzy like that? Her heart pounded as she listened in—the sounds of delight were so loud because they were doing more than sharing Jake. Pasc and Lori were going at each other, they had to be.

Brandi was never right after that. It was pitiful, but she needed to hear from Jake’s lips that she was the hottest of the three. She was; she had eyes and could see how guys reacted when they were somewhere all together. So what if she was the smallest—it was true that the best things sometimes come in small packages.

Came. She hadn’t even been trying to keep count, but how many times had she heard Lori and Pascaline cum in there? She was in her bedroom, pacing, when she heard Lori’s voice through the door, clearly in a state of shock: “Jake! Oh sweet Je... Je... I can’t believe...”

Couldn’t believe what? What did he have, a clitoris-teasing forked tongue, and a king cobra between his legs? What was happening in there?

She pictured him lying between the two housemates, their lovely bodies half-draped over his body, their sex-stained thighs warming his penis...

His penis. Fuck, what was the matter with her? A penis was a penis—some a little more, some a little less, but not something to get butterflies over. Yet she became all wet and quivery when she pictured his thing, and she had been picturing it almost from the beginning. He was obviously special—Amelia had seen that, but it didn’t mean she had to feel this... this...

Jake made her horny. “No!” she vented, trying to tamp the urges down. But again her body said yes. It was saying yes right into her underwear, enough that she could smell herself. Enough to make her want to go to sofa edges or table corners and spread her legs and rub against something. Hard.

Rub against him, dammit! There was some quality Jake had, something innate. The night after first meeting him, she’d felt desirous all night, like having him in the house for a few hours had stirred the inner recesses of her body. She thought she’d gotten that under control when they drove out to Amelia’s house, but on the drive back the situation went critical. She didn’t just picture him; she pictured him picturing her, like all her workouts to be this fit and fantastic had been for him and the moment their bodies would join.

She waited and he still didn’t come out from Pascaline’s room, long after the sounds of sex died down. Frustrated beyond belief, she went for a five mile run on the beach, trying to sweat out her body’s craziness. When she returned, they still hadn’t emerged from behind that locked door.

She needed to show off her body. It was a craving so intense that she decked herself out in her shortest and tightest dress for work, a black dance club number that looked painted on. She’d never dared wear anything like this on the job—so many guys hit on her every shift, and an outfit like this was just begging for trouble. But she had to show off. She had to.

She didn’t give up easily on Jake. She stood outside Pascaline’s door for at least ten minutes before leaving, with an absurd sense that if she just willed him to come and open the door, he would have to do it. She concentrated, tried to imagine it as though her thinking had a magnetic, inescapable force... And of course she was disappointed. He remained locked in; she remained locked out.

She went to work early without even knowing if Lori would come for her shift. Lori did arrive, late, and she was never all there. She’d forget orders, and sometimes stopped in the middle of a task, looking into space with her face blank, her nipples sticking out so much that guys were secretly taking pictures with their camera phones. Brandi also noticed an almost Pavlovian pattern, where Lori would jump and sigh whenever someone’s cell rang.

Brandi knew how Lori behaved after being boned, and this wasn’t it. Had it been sex with another woman that had blown her away? Brandi debated whether to ask Lori how a threesome with Pascaline had come about, and what had actually transpired in there. She didn’t, which was almost the same as saying she couldn’t. She felt terrible rushes of envy whenever she imagined Jake admiring Lori’s body, which led to feeling miserable that Jake wasn’t there to admire how she filled out her dress, which led to thinking about sex with Jake, which led to her nipples turning to hard bullets like Lori’s.

Guys were taking pictures of her, too, and she felt like telling them to send the photos to Jake’s phone. He might see them, and get hard seeing them, and he might even start stroking himself while looking at her image, and she gasped, dropping a glass, shattering a fantasy that might have culminated in fingering herself right in front of everyone.

She was a mess. She took to chewing on her lower lip and endured her shift. The only thing that kept her going, that kept her fingers working at her job instead of her slit, was knowing that at the end of the night she could go home and go to sleep, and dream.

Her bed called to her, and when she finally eased her body under the sheets, head resting upon her pillow, it was like going into a cocoon, into a protected place where she could let go and gather anew. Conscious thought lost its grip while something raw and powerful took hold, peeling away layers of her mind for a dream to be loosed.

Images emerged, with a narrative that had its beginnings right where she was, asleep in her bed. She dreamed that a hurricane was approaching, and part of its energy had formed a relationship with her mind and body. Her pussy pounded with life, the barometric pressure of her body and mind falling, and pulsing, and falling more... The pulsing was felt everywhere but especially in her nipples, as though they had their own heartbeats, pulsing excitedly. She reached between her legs in the dream and rubbed at her pussy, and felt an odd sensation that at first she couldn’t understand.

It was her pubic hairs, all letting go, dropping away like leaves in autumn. She kept that area neatly trimmed, but in a matter of seconds she became completely bare, as smooth as she’d been before puberty.

At the same time the pulsing in her breasts kept growing, spreading, and she realized that the pulsing grew because her breasts were growing. They were alive, growing more full as they had in her early teens, only now it was more insistent, the change gripped by a pace that far outstripped anything she’d experienced years ago.

She knew what was happening—this was dreaming, but dreaming that was fueled or warped somehow, her subconscious mind tearing at the rules of existence like a wild beast. And in this dream she was a woman in metamorphosis, undergoing a second adolescence. But this time it wasn’t about the transformation from girl to woman—she was a woman already, and now it was about becoming a physical and psychic vehicle for sex and sex and more sex.

She needed sex desperately, and dreamed that she awakened in the morning to find it. She got out of bed and could touch the changes to her body with her hands, feeling their reality. Her pussy was completely hairless, her breasts noticeably larger than when she’d fallen asleep. She cupped their undersides, fingers digging into the extra mass. She’d had enough lovers to know her breasts were especially compelling—they had exuberant shaping, and her aureoles and nipples were far more prominent than the average. Now there was even more there, rounder and heavier, projecting out further. Her hands felt strangely small in holding them, and her flesh was warm, alive, that growing feeling still there. Just holding them made her excitement grow, because in her hands were cells, nerves, flesh, all devoted to sex, to pleasure. And they were multiplying, always multiplying.

“I’m awake and it’s all happening!” she breathed out, although “awake” was a relative term when dreaming had become experiencing, the difference between the two states rendered meaningless.

She opened her bedroom door; it was early morning and the cottage was quiet. She passed Lori’s open door and the bed was empty. Pascaline’s door was unlocked, and there the two housemates lay, naked and spent, in an opposed configuration that had surely been a sixty-nine position when they’d been active.

Brandi stepped closer and studied their bodies. They, too, were in a similar state of metamorphosis, their breasts swollen, nipples enlarged. Their pussies had become completely bare like hers, all three bodies tied together because what Brandi dreamed for herself affected them all.

Why? She knew. They were to be with her later in the dream, all three with Jake and with each other.

The room was still, yet their bodies were continuing to change, just as hers was. She could feel the seeds of their transformation swirling all around, a hidden tempest filling them, swirling inside. She noticed a lifelike dildo laying between Lori’s legs, and sensed how even an inanimate toy could pulse with the anticipation of more sex. The women, the dildo, her—they were all one, bonded by lust, and they needed a final destination, a point of ultimate convergence.

Jake was that point and there was no time to waste; he had to be brought to them. It was her dream, thus her responsibility to find him. She donned her bikini, the one she’d been dying to show him, and flew into her Camry, driving in the direction of the Nag’s Hideaway campground, calling Jake on the way.

Her pussy became wetter than she would have thought possible when she heard his voice. She became lust-choked and dropped her phone on the seat between her legs, but she’d heard enough to find him.

And then the dream was about Jake. The way he stared at her when she intercepted him reverberated, echoed, re-echoed. It was dream déjà vu, the experience happening upon itself, a dream event and a real one merged.

His eyes practically raped her body. “Good God you’re one healthy looking woman,” he said, just as it had to be or had always been.

She’d felt propelled all through her dream, but this manifest sense of re-living every second made her need him all the more. The Brandi she used to be was fading away, replaced by this even curvier one, this one who had to have Jake’s mouth sucking and nibbling at her growing tits, and Jake’s cock deep inside her pussy, and even up her...

Oh God. It had happened in the dream and would happen out there, and in here. She would need it, crave it, her pussy and even the walls of her ass as wet as the sea and he would do it to her. She would demand that he do it to her.

Every touch, every shudder had a doubled force, happening in her dream and happening again, like a dream version banging against real experience. Her hands felt like they were on fire, a fire that always kept them lubricated, so silky slick for him. She could feel her tits continuing to grow in his hands, a slow and steady expansion between his kneading fingers. Even her nipples felt as much enlarged as engorged, their sensitivity killing her, sending crackling jolts into her pussy.

And when he entered her, she could feel how the metamorphosis had even taken place inside. She was wetter, her vaginal walls nearly sentient with their sensitivity. As he stroked in and out they gripped and spasmed around the entire length of Jake’s embedded dick, coming alive, gripping and releasing, giving him a cunt-job as he fucked her.

The cumming tore her apart. Her climaxes were unbelievably intense, every muscle tightening as the waves of pleasure crashed through her body. They were furious orgasms, sanity-tossing jolts that gushed in and drew inhibitions out. She felt her teeth gnashing as she held on, only there was no holding on. They blew through her and when they finally began to ebb she grasped his hard thing and covered it with her magical sweat-lotion, and put his big tip against her anus, this new Jake-fucking Brandi welcoming his hard dick into the vortex of her cock-swallowing ass.

Even in dreaming it she could barely believe she wanted this so badly. She’d never tried it, never seriously thought about it, yet she knew it had to be and she was so fucking ready. He filled her and she learned how her back door let the storm churn right in, wetting every surface, saturating her until the cumming had to burst through and flow on out.

She was ravaged. She was upended and drilled through from back to front. And in the magical way a dream can go from one thing to the next, she was stark naked in the driver’s seat of the van, ready to pull into the driveway to the cottage.

Pascaline and Lori rushed the van and pulled him out, naked with their breasts bouncing as they never could have before the dream. They pulled him up the steps and Brandi followed, not certain if she took steps or simply hovered. She was just there, her pussy and ass feeling like widely punctured holes that could act like portals, allowing the essence of desire to pour into the cottage.

She needed Jake’s cock inside her pussy again and just thinking it made it so, her pussy filled with him. He pumped her hard and fast and the liqui-friction did something to her chest, the heat of their contact rising up her body. He pulled out for a second to drive his thing in harder, deeper, and that heated feeling poured straight into her tits, seeming to fill them. They felt fevered, throbbing like her heart was pumping blood straight into her excited flesh. Another thrust and the throbbing became pressure, so much pressure…

He pulled back and shoved in all the way, and everything that moved to make space for his meat rushed to her tits. She was lying on her back and she saw her breasts wobble up, and wobble up more with the next thrust. They were higher, wider, her nipples fatter…

Every thrust of his cock was like a forceful stroke on a bicycle pump, inflating her tits with more tit, not air. He didn’t stop and who could blame him? He kept thrusting and every thrust gave him more to love. They kept swelling up, out, quaking with their new volume. She needed to tell him to stop, that it felt like they might grow and smother them all, but it felt too good and she just let it happen, let them grow as they would. The middle of her boobs smacked flesh to flesh and it was like she had a clitoris there, the vibration doing something that made all of her body stiffen, every limb and muscle poised to join with her pussy in cumming.

The body-wave kept building, spreading, and suddenly Jake’s cock left her pussy to tunnel right next to her heart, pushing between flesh pillows that could have buried several of his things. His cock was wet like it had been hosed down and instinct made her bend her arms to compress her tits together, making them tower. His cock disappeared from her view, overwhelmed by the bounty of the flesh on her chest, but she could feel it, squeezed so tight by all that heated weight.

Her impossible tit-clit feeling leaped into another gear and she began to lose it. She couldn’t tell what was real in the dream—had her tits grown a clitoris or had the flesh found some pathway to her clitoris, connecting them? All the energy surged, gathered and shot down to her pussy in a sudden wave. She came like an entire world would cum and it felt like her pussy shot a flood, wetness everywhere. Her eyes were forced closed as shockwaves coursed from head to toe, and then the thicker warm wet, and Jake crying out above. The dip in her neck became a cum-filled pool, more cum wetting the immense tit-crack that had become the repository for his perfect cock.

The cumming, the quaking, the wetness, the expansion, the waves and more waves—they were everything. The only missing element was having Jake stare at and admire her body, and with his head cradled upon her huge breasts he was far too close for that. And so she dreamed him above, looking down, and bathed in his gaze, getting otherworldly horny for more.

* * *

My turn again. Not that it’s easy to know how to write out events like this, with so much going on all at once.

Ever since that first night in the cottage, I had schemed to take my shot at all three housemates in one go. I got my shot that sunny morning, with the house nearly as dark as night, the windows all boarded up. Brandi’s bedroom became Neapolitan Ice Cream Central just as I’d been aiming for, but it was dessert laced with a hallucinogenic, the encounter playing by the rules of Brandi’s dream.

I can’t say with certainty when I knew that reality had gone elastic. In the van it might have been “normal” sex and realistic events, yet even then there had been inconsistencies. Brandi’s boobs looked and felt larger than I’d expected, and their heat was too intense to be natural, like her tits were powered by special fuel cells. I’d also so wondered how she had lotion at her disposal every time extra lubrication might come in handy. Perhaps most telling of all, the way her virgin ass greedily accepted my dick was just too good to be true.

It had been too good to be true, but was true nonetheless. And when Pascaline and Lori pulled me out of the van, their tits unmistakably larger than the last time I’d seen them, I had an inkling of what had happened and was happening. I tried to reach inside Brand’s brain but the pathways were blocked, just as if she were asleep. From Pascaline and Brandi I was able to orient myself—I wasn’t asleep and this wasn’t a dream, or not my dream. But Brandi had dreamed during the night, and I’d hit her desires hard about making that all become real.

Make your dreams come true. Dream the sex and make it come true.

Which still didn’t explain everything. There are hard-fast rules to our existence, and what had become true shouldn’t have. I could hyper-inflate desires, not work or bestow miracles, and what I saw in front of my eyes simply shouldn’t be possible.

I didn’t have much time right then to ponder how it had happened—the housemates essentially abducted me from my van, grabbing at my cock as they pulled me all the way to Brandi’s bedroom. And if I still had any doubts, they were obliterated when Brandi suddenly appeared on the bed. One second that space had been empty and the next she was filling it, just materializing there.

I could say that what transpired followed no linear sequence, but the situation was actually more complex. Actions followed other actions as we’re trained to expect, but then a hiccup of disjointed sequencing or perspective would take hold, and the sense that made sense before would be discarded for a new sequence. What mattered, in the end, was that one thing did hold true—lust and stimulation climbed a ladder like they always do, leading to a shuddering release that leads to the next ladder, and the next release.

The first sequence on the bed had me fucking Brandi’s pussy from above, gliding into her deeper and deeper—I say gliding because it’s possible that I was floating, not making contact with the bed at all. Her tits began to grow right in front of my eyes; the change in their size was no longer subtle, as every thrust brought forth a flesh-quaking surge, her boobs filling out, rising up. She began to maul her tits with her hands, squeezing and pulling, and when she pulled her nipples out all the flesh around them stayed there.

The sight of her growing like that, her tits responding to the action of my dick, was more than I could take. I pulled out briefly only to plunge in deeper, fucking those tits hard, feeling them grow and compress, their volume inching up my body, becoming twin pillows with Brandi’s sex-anguished face below. I had to fuck them, the expanding miracle tits, and when I did I came in a dizzying release, spurting and spurting. She came in response, hot liquid that somehow bathed my dick, even though my dick was up here not down there...

It was the frothing saliva of Lori’s mouth, out of nowhere, with her tongue flicking incessantly at the sensitive underside of my swollen crown, sucking me dry and wetting me hard. I heard Pascaline screaming in ecstasy and when I thought, “What’s happening to her?”, I was inside myself getting a blow-job but also a hovering presence above the bed, a disembodied eye being given an overview of all the women and the sex taking place down below.

This wasn’t my dream. I was certain that it wasn’t a dream at all; it was the real world scripted in the night by Brandi’s desire-stoked libido. I couldn’t know why I’d been given this viewpoint up here, but it allowed me to get my first sustained view of all three women’s bodies, changed into bodaciously built, bald-pussied sex-bombs.

Brandi, especially, was just outrageous. I knew I’d never seen anyone like her, all petite with muscle curves, and then her breasts like ten pornstars had let her borrow their size all at once. She looked like a living miracle and I felt myself literally drooling with lust, not knowing if I was drooling up here or in my body down there. And where was it that my dick ached to get off again, and could?

Pascaline was on her knees with her ass pointing up at the ceiling, and a very lifelike dildo was sticking out her ass, thrusting and twisting of its own accord as though guided by invisible hands. Her breasts were squashed onto the mattress; they weren’t as outrageously proportioned as Brandi’s, but they had become large enough that tit-meat protruded beyond her torso from both sides in significant outward curves.

Lori, kneeling between my legs, had been the biggest to begin with and she had grown, too. Suddenly, in focusing on the movement of her head above my groin, my viewpoint flashed back inside my body and I got a glimpse of Lori’s mouth with her cheeks bulging, the entirety of my cock going down her throat. It was only a glimpse because Brandi’s lower body appeared right in front of my face, her pussy glistening like an orchid in a tropical storm. Her clitoris bulged obscenely, apparently tied to the same energy that enlarged all three women’s tits.

I know how to eat pussy, and this one had its most sensitive target on view like my eyes had turned into magnifying lenses. I lightly dabbed at it with my tongue, and might have achieved a slow and artful pussy-tasting if Lori wasn’t going so manic on my dick, making me gasp and inadvertently yell with Brandi’s clit inside my mouth.

Her sensitivity was through the roof and she came right then, a warm ejection that hit my face and got in my eyes. Brandi toppled back just as I shuddered and let loose down Lori’s throat, and through a liquid haze I thought I saw Pascaline climb on top of Brandi, grinding her ass-filled pelvis against one of Brandi’s huge tits.

Lori’s face seemed to be launched towards mine, grinning with a string of my stuff connecting the top of her tongue with the roof of her mouth. She raised up enough to smother my cock with her tits, easily twice the size they’d been just the day before. She held herself up with straightened arms and gravity wobble-fucked my dick, the huge things unbelievably wet and slippery.

My vision was still watery, the details blurred. My balls felt warm and wet and I think someone’s mouth had found them. I saw something dart through the air and heard a diving buzz, followed by Lori screaming with pleasure—had another dildo flown into her pussy or ass like a living creature?

The whole bed began to shake, everyone fucking or being fucked, a shared rhythm gathering and multiplying its force. Pascaline screamed and seconds later it felt like we were fucking in a drizzle, girl-cum beading all over flesh and hair. Lori wailed next with her eyes going wide—I couldn’t tell for sure but it looked like Brandi had hefted one of her giant breasts with her arms and she was either teasing Lori’s pussy or her anus with an extra-long and stiff nipple.

Lori’s tit-fuck had me ready to blast and just as I contracted, the release imminent, Brandi’s mouth fit over my cock-head and she inhaled, taking my stuff down her throat or even into her lungs. Her mouth twisted around me crazy-fast, cheeks alternately narrowing and puffing, and fuck if she didn’t have me on the edge again within thirty seconds.

“Mine this time!” Pascaline shouted, her head next to Brandi’s mouth, fighting to have a go at my dick. Brandi just took me down deeper and Pascaline worked my balls for consolation, and I came. As I bucked, Lori planted her pussy on Brandi’s face, and I thought I saw several dildos darting about near the ceiling. They moved with the quick agility of hummingbirds but acted like cunt-raptors, waiting for an opening to penetrate.

Brandi’s boobs came at me from above, molding around my head as her body rocked, as the women panted and screamed, and something wet surrounded my cock again and pulled at it, milked it, and all was billowing flesh and wet cock-draining pressure, one orgasm swirling into the next, the energy churning and churning...

* * *

There came a point where the flying dildos took turns penetrating the women, and I was left alone for some foggy amount of time. It’s hard to say whether I eventually awakened or just blinked my way out of it, like a fog suddenly lifted from my brain. All three women were strewn around the room, their hair wildly tossed and limbs askew, looking for all the world like sex debris.

Sex debris with magically enlarged tits, that is. I might be free of the grip of Brandi’s dream—I might not, too, I had no clue—but whatever my state, the women’s bodies were not as they had been when I first met them. Brandi’s tits weren’t as humonguous as they’d been in the thick of the sex, but they were still fantasy boobs that made a even breast goddess like Val look like an apprentice. Whether or how fast Brandi’s tits would revert to something that looked less like the wet dream of a boob-obsessed thirteen year-old... Might happen when she awakened, might not.

Lori and Pascaline were also super-stacked, just not to the same degree. I imagined the three women returning to campus in a week or two, looking like they were now. How would they explain the changes? Would other women call to rent out this cottage, drinking down the water with tape measures in their hands?

My cock was red and half-erect, and there was a buzzing sound that had me searching for more flying dildos for a couple of seconds. The dildos, three in total by my count, were there but momentarily inert, all half-buried in female openings. The buzz persisted at the back of my brain as I stood and looked around for my clothes—I didn’t have any clothing, as I’d been pulled naked from my van.

In looking around I came across my phone—very wet and sticky—laying next to a spiral notebook on the bedside table. I opened and scanned through the notebook; it was Brandi’s dream journal. She’d mentioned it before but it had never been in the room when I snooped. The entries were hand-written and dated, and I didn’t waste any time, flipping to the end to see what dreams she’d recorded since meeting me. None, as it turned out, until her dream from last night.

The handwriting was so shaky that it almost didn’t look like hers, and unlike previous entries she had only recorded a sketchy outline, not a fleshed out narrative. I scanned the fragments and most of it sounded familiar—but not all of it:

Dream I changed, need sex Jake so bad. Body vibrating boobs hot. Awaken in dream, dream and reality mixed, find jake sex in van, so incred and need anal, unbelievable feel, have to have. Back at house, Jake fucking, boobs grow so big as penetrates and titfuck, Pasc and Lori too, sex all around, living anal plug and flying dildos, boobs so huge, can’t stop orgasm so many. Sleep in dream and wake up, Jake and van gone, he at Amelia’s to get answers. We follow hours behind, all four have sex w/Jake. Amelia like supersex demon, all come cant stop and storm comes so strong, category 4, can’t stop, Jake dick enormous like boobs, keep grow, insane so gigantic, go insane so gigantic

My cock hardened and I got goosebumps as I re-read the entry. Though it had been scribbled in haste, the sentences truncated, I could recognize how Brandi had written out much of what I’d just lived. She’d dreamed her dream and we’d all been sucked in, and what had been dreamed, happened. Even her being asleep just then was part of the dream’s contents.

But there was more, or would be more, because the dream extended further in time than we were. It said I’d go to Amelia’s for answers, and the women would follow. Then all of us having sex, with Amelia being like a supersex demon, whatever that meant. Can’t stop, as in Amelia makes it so none of us can stop, ever? And a category 4 hurricane on top of us, with my dick growing like the women’s boobs?

Jake dick enormous like boobs, keep grow, insane so gigantic, go insane so gigantic

Either my dick was going to become insanely gigantic, or their boobs—as if they weren’t already. Or everything would grow, and when it all goes gigantic, the size is insane or we literally go insane?

The spam industry got built around dick-expansion fantasies, but my schlong was decently long and thick already and I liked it just the way it was. And even if I wanted a little more or a lot more, “insane so gigantic” was not the size I’d have delivered in the mail. I looked down at Brandi’s mega-boobs and imagined my dick as the male version, and felt chills in every limb.

I closed the notebook and put it back on the table. I ran to my van. I got dressed, not worrying that I smelled like multiple sex partners on a stick. I backed out of the driveway and made my way to the bypass, heading north towards the Wright Memorial Bridge.

I knew I was doing exactly what Brandi’s dream wanted me to do, by going to see Amelia for answers. To break the spell of Brandi’s dream, if such a thing were even possible, I should hit the interstate and head to South Beach for some gold-plated pussy, or sit at a cafe doing nothing, or drive my van and my normal sized dick into the ocean.

But Amelia had said: “You’re going to be pulled back to me, Jake. Brandi will make sure, because you made sure.” She’d hadn’t only been cocky; she’d known, somehow, that Brandi would orchestrate my return with her dream, only her insight was more cryptic than that because she had me making Brandi do it.

I had a flash of what must be happening—that snap in my head when Amelia and I touched must have ramped up my talent for getting inside women and making things happen. It had seemed that way on the ride back to the beach with Brandi, and Pascaline had wanted to go anal with me when I hadn’t even pushed hard. It felt like a possibility, kind of, only it didn’t explain how something truly magical could happen, like Brandi’s dream becoming a real sequence of events.

Amelia had said something else: “Brandi will make sure because you made sure. Months ago.”

I hadn’t even known Brandi existed until a few nights ago. Those words made no sense; they never had. But Amelia wasn’t just talking shit; I knew it and so did the whir of life at the back of my brain.

And so I had to see her again, gigantic dick and threat of insanity be damned.