After an encounter with an incubus, which had a surprising result, Dale tells a friend. This is a sequel to The Only Thing I Could Do so you may wish to read that first. (It’s short.)

Contains an explicit dream sequence.

Dreams Can Change You - Part 1
By Jamie Lou

Somewhere, in the distance, Kim’s phone warbled. And again. She rolled over, awake, barely, recognized the ringtone, dragged the phone off the nightstand, rolled back onto her pillow and thumbed “Send.”

“Dale. Dammit. It’s–” she looked to the clock, “It’s frickin’ eight o’clock–”

“Kim! Kim! Listen,” Dale interrupted. “I’m a woman!”

“Oh shit Dale, I know you’re a wo–”

“No. No. I’m a whole woman. My prick’s gone. I got a cunny.”

“What are you–? You’re not making sense.”

“I had this dream, see. There was this guy, fuckin’ me, you know, like real, like in my cunnny. An’ I came, an’ woke up, an’ there he was.” This all came out in a rush. “And he was gorgeous; glowin’ kinda, like an angel, maybe. Then I blacked out. An’ I woke up this mornin’ an’ I’m, I’m…” Dale halted, as if not quite daring to say it again. Then deliberately, “I’m a whole woman.”

Kim squinted her eyes closed and pinched the bridge of her nose. The headache from last night’s partying was lurking, ready to come to the fore and Dale’s delusional chattering threatened to help it along.

“You had a dream,” she said, finally.

“I had a dream,” Dale repeated. “And it changed me.”

“Are you fucked-up?”

“No, Dammit! You know I don’t to that anymore. I didn’t have anything to drink last night.” Anger in her voice. “And I haven’t for over a year. Kim… I had a dream and it changed me. It’s really real.”

Kim tried to grasp this, and failed. Dreams can’t change people that way. Then again, her friend Dale was a pretty normal, stable person. She would party hardy with the gang but she had stayed sober for a year. So, Dale must believe she had changed. Something had happened.

“Kim?” Dale broke the silence.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll come over an’ prove it. Be there in an hour. Okay?”

“Alright.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Kim dropped the phone on the bed. The headache hovered closer.

~Damn! I needed to sleep this morning.~

She hadn’t gotten home until somewhere after one: partying with the girls. Dale was there too. But Dale hadn’t been drinking, unlike Kim. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood; the head pounding kicked up a notch. She stood still for moment as the “Hoomswoosh, hoomswoosh of her pulse throbbed though her head like a dishwasher at full cycle.

“I gotta stop drinking,” she reminded herself yet again

On her way to the kitchen, she grabbed her robe from the back of the door. There she downed a couple acetaminophen with water, started a pot of coffee and headed for the shower. She let the warm water run the length of her body, hoping it would carry away some of the hangover. It did ease–a bit. Slowly shampooing her hair and washing the rest of her body, she pondered what to do about her friend.

Dale had been transitioning for months: taking hormones, convincing her docs she was ready for surgery. And she’d stayed sober, which, give her credit, was probably the hardest thing she’d done. Now she’d gone off the deep end. Did someone slip her something last night? Kim didn’t think so. Could’ve happened though. How else could you explain this morning’s babbling. Kim would have to get her down from whatever she was on and help put her back together afterward.

“Dammit Dale,” she started aloud, but finished silently, “I don’t need this shit today.”

Immediately she felt guilty. How many times had Dale dragged her sorry ass home, tucked her in and cleaned up after her…excesses. Even last night, Dale drove her home. Kim owed her one, a couple; two or three.

Shower finished, toweled off, hair not dry but brushed out and at least not dripping, Dale sipped at the coffee she’d poured. Grimacing at the bitterness, especially pronounced this morning, she added another spoon of sugar. Back in the bedroom, she dressed in a tee shirt and light cotton pants. And waited.

She was not a good one to try to talk a friend down off a high. Dale had to be on something. But what? Maybe she should call Terri — she knew how to do all the touchy, feely, supportive shit. Kim sucked at it: she had a low tolerance for other people’s problems and wanted them to get over it and move on. However, Dale would be here soon and Kim’d have to deal with her.

Still no knowing how she would help her friend, she heard the doorbell.

Kim despaired at the letdown to come, especially as Dale burst through the door and charged into the room, all bubbly with energy.

“Kim! It was sooo amazing. I still can’t believe it. I mean this guy was jus’ glowing. Like an angel, like I told ya. An’ I knew it wasn’t a regular dream. He looked at me with these really big dark eyes, an’ I felt like he was lookin’ inta my soul, you know? Big dreamy eyes– An’ he turned me into a woman.”

“Look, Dale–” Kim searched for a way calm her friend and sort out what really happened to her. “You have to settle down. Tell me what happened, from the beginning. Starting at the party last night. Um, wait a minute. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No. I was too excited. I called you as soon as I woke up.”

“Then come grab a bite.”

Kim turned and led them into the kitchen. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“How about toast? English Muffin?”

“A muffin sounds great. Oh god! I’m still wound up about it. I mean, I’ve wanted this for so long and now it’s happened. An’ I don’t have to go through surgery. I jus’ woke up and vavoom! Va jay jay!

Kim half listened as she split two muffins and put them in the toaster oven, wondering where to start. The only thing she could come up with was, “Alright, tell me about the party. You sure nobody gave you anything there?”

“No. I told you– Wait. You don’t believe me do you?”

Turning to face her friend, Kim said, “Dale people don’t change because of dreams.”

“I did. Look!” She unbuttoned her jeans, slipped them and her panties down over her hips. With pants at her feet, she straighten and she said, “See!”

Frozen in place, eyes glued to her where friend’s hands indicated, Kim struggled to comprehend the evidence, or lack of it, confronting her. Dale had no penis. “But–” she started.

“Now do you believe me?” Dale asked quietly.

“But–” Kim repeated. “How?” She dragged her eyes up to Dale’s face. “I don’t understand.”

“I told you. I had a dream last night…, this morning…, whenever. An’ I woke up like this.” She bent and pulled her pants up again. Kim watched intently as the smooth mound was covered and Dale buttoned and zipped. Behind her, the toaster dinged, barely noticed. She looked to Dale’s face again.

“How can that be?” Kim asked.

“I don’ know,” Dale answered. “All I can think of is, magic.”

“That’s crazy”

“You got a better explanation?”

“But…magic?”

“Look…I went to bed last night with a prick an’ woke up this morning with a pussy. All that happened in between was the dream I had gettin’ fucked by an angel. It’s gotta be magic. Or a miracle, or sometin’.”

Kim leaned back against the counter. She knew Dale had a penis last night: she’d come in to use the john while Kim was touching up her makeup. They’d even talked about it getting smaller from the hormones. “Not small enough,” had been Dale’s sardonic comment. Now, here it was…gone.

“Is it… Are you… I mean–”

“Yeah, it’s all there,” answered Dale. “I checked. Clit. Vagina. I think I even felt my cervix. An’ that’s not all — look at these hips, my waist.” As she spoke, she touched each in turn, ending with hands cupping her breasts. “An’ these things fill my D-cups; I always had to stuff ‘em before. Kim, I don’t understand either, but it’s all real.” Her face lit with a huge smile. “I’m finally whole.”

For Kim, this was too much to absorb all at once, so she avoided it by remembering the English muffins.

“Here, the toast is done.” She went to the fridge and retrieved half-and-half and marmalade, the latter being both her and Dale’s favorite on muffins. Dale had poured coffee and added sweetener in each cup. Together they finished preparing their muffins and coffee and carried them to the table near the window. Sun streamed in as they sat, quietly eating and sipping for a few moments. Kim watched her friend. They used to joke about other acquaintances looking “Well fucked,” in the morning; having a smile that would sneak out, a blush on the cheeks that would appear at some remembered pleasure. Together they would giggle at their friend’s expense. Dale had that look — and something more; some deeper joy was bubbling under the surface.

Kim had not felt much joy for a while. Her twenties had passed in turmoil as she’d slogged through sorting out her own gender issues. Now in her early thirties, she was living full time as a woman and had been for three years, six months and — what was it, the tenth of June? — then eight days. Working a job she, well, not hated but certainly didn’t look forward to each morning. Finances were still a problem: student loans she avoided paying in the last decade could no longer be avoided, electrolysis was expensive and she spent way too much on wine during the week and bars on the weekend. Her surgery fund never got any where. And it was her own damned fault. She let out a sigh.

Dale didn’t seem to notice, lost in her own happiness. Kim was — almost — jealous. She felt a little knot of anger…deep. She buried it. She couldn’t go there. Dale was her best friend and something amazing had happened. She should be happy for her. She was happy for her. Wasn’t she? ~Concentrate on the present, girl. Say something.~

“Tell me about this dream,” she finally asked.

“Oh Kim, it was so incredible,” Kim began. “Remember, I dropped you off about 1:30ish?”

“Sort of,” Kim replied with a rueful half-grin.

“Yeah, you were– Anyway, I got home around two. I was tired but still a bit buzzed, maybe a little horny too. I was thinking about that cute guy who left with Sarah: Jim or Tim or somethin’. I got a couple slow dances in with him. He was good, dancing I mean, kinda gentle.”

“Tim,” interjected Kim.

“Yeah, Tim. So anyway, I changed an’ got into to bed. Jus’ kinda lay there, half playin’ with myself, not really tryin’ to masturbate, jus’, you know, kneading my boob an’ toyin’ with my prick.” She paused for a sip of coffee. “I drifted off to sleep, feeling pretty an’ happy an’ sexy. An’ I wanted a man. I wanted someone like Tim to be there to make love to me.”

“What about the dream?” asked Kim, somewhat impatiently.

Dale gave her friend a puzzled look before continuing, not quite sure of the tone of her voice. She took another sip.

“I’m lying in bed, my own bed, the sun’s coming though the window, which is kinda weird because my window faces north an’ the sun never comes in it, but there it is. The light’s all bluish an’ the walls are the wrong color an’ too far away. You know how things look in dreams. But it’s definitely still my bed.”

“As I lay there, feelin’ hornier than when I fell asleep, I start playin’ with my nipples again. But my breasts are different — bigger — bigger even than they are now. But it’s a dream so I figure, ‘What the heck,’ an’ keep playing. Feelin’ my crotch tingle — you know that little surge you get jus’ when you start to swell? It’s like that, only different in a way I can’t quite get at. So I reach down with one hand to grab my prick– An’ it’s gone.”

“Now I have sex dreams, well not a lot, but often enough. They’re always kinda vague. You know? They feel good, but jus’ in a sorta general way. There’s never any details, only, you know, like, someone’s between my legs an’ it feels good an’ all. But this is different. I can feel my clit, an’ lips an’ vag. I’m wet, so I start rubbin’ an’ pushin’ fingers into my pussy. All I can think is, I need someone to fill me up. An’ I ain’t talkin’ about no dildo; I want a man. I know that for sure, I’m thinking’: ‘This is my dream, I want a man.’ An’ then — there he is.”

“He’s standin’ next to the bed. Tall, black hair — wavy, down to his shoulders. A strong chest, shoulders, not strong-man muscles, but ripped. An’ god what a cock: hard, thick, long — it stands there. It twitches, an’ so does my clit. I want it somethin’ fierce. I look up to his face an’ I say or maybe jus’ think “Fuck me,” — though I don’t remember it — an’ he jus’ smiles an’ says “Patience, my dear.” Oh, that voice: deep, soothing, reassuring, but commanding at the same time. I wanna melt an’ do anythin’ for him.”

“My heart’s thumpin’ as he comes over an’ sits on the bed. His hand reaches out, touches my cheek an’ gently strokes along it to my chin, which he grabs hold of, softly, as he leans over to kiss me. Not a firm, probing French kiss, jus’ a gentle touch — lips to lips; like a whisper of what might follow.”

Dale paused, thinking about the kiss. Unconsciously, she licked her lips, as if she were tasting it again.

“It’s like every fantasy I’ve ever had. He touches me — everywhere. Little gentle, almost tickly slides along my skin; hard squeezes on my tits; pinching my nipples, an’ kissing them, an’ biting them. An’ I feel it all: every touch, nip an’ nibble. I’ve never had a dream before where I could feel everything.” Dale, looked into her coffee mug and repeated, “Everything.”

“I try to return some of his touches but he stops me. He says ‘This is your dream. This is for you, not me.’ That’s what he says, ‘This is for you.’ So, I jus’ let it happen. What the hell, it’s my dream. But so real–”

“Anyway, he finally spreads my legs an’ gets between them. I’m lookin’ down at his prick approaching, then I feel it touch between my lips. I’m ready, I want him. I start to push against him but he pulls away an’ says, ‘Greedy. Aren’t you?’ God! I want to kill him for a sec’. But he grins an’ I jus’ melt under him an’ his prick comes at me again. This time he keeps pushing. It spreads my lips apart, slides into me. I feel every bit of him. His prick jus’ keeps coming in an’ my pussy is tight around him. He’s big, I’m stretched over him, but it doesn’t hurt– jus’ wonderful… Inside me. Full.”

“He pushes all the way until he’s in an’ against me. His… his pubic bone presses hard on my clit an’ he stays right there. An’ I’m– It’s like I always hoped it would be an’ I close my eyes an’ try to absorb every last sensation ‘cause I know it can’t last.”

“Then he starts fuckin’ me for real, slowly at first, gradually gettin’ faster. An’ I lose myself in the rhythm. These rolling waves of orgasm wash over me, each one building higher until a crest like nothin’ I ever felt before. Then he’s coming too. He pushes deep into me an’ lets out a groan. I feel him, deep inside, I feel him fill me with his cum.”

Dale stops. Her last words had tumbled over each other, as if she were reliving the experience rather than simply relating it. Kim sat, transfixed by the dream. Dale took a couple deep breaths before continuing.

“Then I woke up, on my real bed, in my real room, an’ this guy is still there. He’s still on top of me, still between my legs. Only he’s not quite the same guy. I can’t really say why he was different, jus’ that he was. Except he was kinda pale, an’ he had some kinda–aura or somethin’–almost like he was glowin’. But I only saw him for a second.”

“What do you mean?” asked Kim.

“I mean I backed out, almost immediately. I woke up an’ saw him. An’ he got this really weird look on his face. Sorta panicky, then…maybe horrified. Like I shouldn’ta woken up. I don’t know, but somethin’ was wrong. Then everythin’ went black. Jus’ out like a light. When I woke up again, I was like this. I think…I wonder if maybe he changed me when I woke up the first time.”

“Why?”

“Well…if he was some kind of angel or somethin’, maybe it was okay to fuck me while I was dreamin’ but not awake. What if waking up made him real, whole, an’ he was still inside me an’ I was still male down there? Does that make sense?”

“No, it doesn’t. None of this makes sense.” Kim could not make this fit into any world she understood. She was also, bothered — somewhat annoyed even. Never one to like surprises, she needed time contemplate and take in new ideas and concepts. She needed to sit down for a while to mull this over, not get bashed by it while dealing with a hangover.

“You know what’s the best part o’ this?” Dale asked.

“No. What?”

“I don’t have to get surgery. We can take the money I had for it an’ add it to your savings an’ you should have enough to pay for yours.”

Kim stared at Dale. The hangover, the tension of her earlier anxiety for Dale, the incomprehensible transformation, the money, the jealously she felt — it was all too much. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“What?” asked Dale.

“I don’t have any savings,” Kim said slowly.

“Whadda mean?”

“I don’t have any.”

“What about your ‘FemFund’ we talked about?”

“It doesn’t exist. It’s gone. Okay?”

“But–”

“I needed the money.”

“How could you? That was only supposed to be for–”

“I just needed it,” Kim interrupted, yelling.

“But, then how can you go out every–?”

“Look, goddammit, I don’t have to justify myself to you. I needed it. And don’t you start in about my drinking. I don’t what to hear it.”

Dale didn’t understand this: the money or the anger. Kim was her friend. She’d had some rough times but seemed to be coming out of them. Dale had thought she was close to her “FemFund” goal. And her offer was still a good idea.

“Well, then, you can still have mine an’ start over.”

“I don’t want your…your damned money.” Tears were running down her cheeks.

Dale got up and started around the table, intending to hug and comfort Kim. Kim wanted none of that. She brought her fists up near her shoulders, arms and fists jerking in and out a couple times in her anger and frustration.

“No,” she said, as Dale stopped. “Go! Just…just leave me alone.”

“Kim–” began Dale.

“Get out! Take your fucking cunt and your fucking tits and your fucking money and get the fuck out of here!”

Dale stopped, shocked at the outburst; her own tears were now flowing. Her natural inclination would be to smother her friend with comfort and hugs until the crying passed. The ferocity of Dale’s anger kept her away. Mind spinning, unable to think of what to say, she started forward again. The fisted hands in front of her, crossed, the arms forming a shield to ward her off.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” Kim, turned, stormed out into the living room to the front door and opened it. “Get out! Now!”

Dale didn’t see that she had a choice. Kim needed to calm down before anyone could get through to her. She’d had these kinds of outbursts before and always needed a day or so to calm down. After she walked through the door, Dale turned, then stopped. She wanted to say something but knew not what. It didn’t matter anyway: Kim slammed the door. Sobbing, Dale stared at the closed door before walking down the steps.

Inside, Kim threw herself onto the couch, wracked by her own sobbing.

 © 2007 JLW

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Gentle readers: I will continue with this, although may not post new chapters at the speed of some here. Please have patience. J.