What Dreams May Cum, A Psycho-Sexual Story

I’d been keeping mental track of how many days I’d been trapped in the house. Today was day thirteen. Mr. Dadroska had locked me into my room as dusk fell just like all the other days. After what he’d done to me today, I really needed a release. I needed to find a way out. I laid down on my small bed with red sheets and took deep breaths until I started to drift into sleep. I’d been having weird dreams lately, they were becoming my escape from Mr. Dadroska.

He was a weird man, surprisingly domestic. Almost every morning he would eventually unlock the door to my room and lead me into his kitchen. I always had to eat a big, unhealthy breakfast. Usually at least six strips of bacon, half a pound of breakfast sausage, and pancakes or waffles covered in syrup. He was trying to fatten me up. The first morning that he’d trapped me, he laid down the house rules: I didn’t get to leave the house under any circumstances, the windows were reinforced and all the doors will always be locked besides the bathroom. And I had to be naked all the time, it was so awkward. He told me he’d use me as much as he wanted to, and under no circumstances could I ever touch him.

Once I’d finished my fattening breakfast every morning he would tie me to a random piece of furniture so that I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I was lucky on the days it was his bed. He wasn’t violent but he’d stroke my dick for what must have been an hour a day and wouldn’t let me cum. Then most days he would take a dildo and slowly fuck me with it. I’d squirm and squirm but it never changed anything. He just wanted to watch me be helpless. Every other day he’d let me cum after getting fucked by the dildo, and it was the release I needed outside of the dreams I’d been having. Always a dildo, never his own cock, I didn’t know why at the time. And he’d never take off his clothes. I don’t know what he wanted to be, I don’t know why he wouldn’t just fuck me.

After cumming all over myself he’d leave me tied up there for hours as the cum crusted onto me, tangling into my chest hair. When he came back before feeding me dinner, he’d lick my chest until the cum was softened and then clean it all off. I should’ve found it way more weird than it was, but those first days in the house I must’ve been in shock. The worst part of the day was always after dinner.

Dinners were even fattier than breakfasts, and I could feel myself gaining a few pounds nearly every day. After dinner he’d sit me on his lap and cuddle with me as he watched the news on TV in his living room. There were heavy mauve drapes covering the windows and a heavy blue throw rug that absorbed sounds from the room surprisingly well, no one on the street would have a chance of hearing me call for help. When the news was done he would take me into the basement and tie me to a kitchen chair. He’d inject something into my arm and tell me it’s to make me more compliant.  

Close to the chair was a small entertainment center, and he’d always put on a different piece of classical music before straddling me and making out with me. He was a heavier man than me. I had no choice but to comply. That was always the worst part; I could handle a dildo going and in and out of me, but forcing his tongue down my throat was just so… personal. And he still wouldn’t take off his clothes. The smacking of lips and the friction of my chest hair on a dress shirt was all drowned out by the sound of classical music. Sometimes he’d stop and stick his fingers in my mouth. I couldn’t look away from him and I couldn’t stop being violated.

Eventually he’d untie me, stick a finger in me, and then carry me to the second floor, put me into the bed with red sheets and pull out the finger, promising me it would all start again in the morning and that he’d make me into a good boy for him to use. I needed to get out. I was gay, always had been, but I didn’t want this, no one could want this. I was never unsupervised except when I slept, so I couldn’t find a way out and no good ideas occured to me, but things changed after my dream on the thirteenth night.

I would wake up in a random spots in town in a different body than the one I went to sleep in. They had to have been dreams, I was waking up as the same person: a man in his late forties who wears a lot of plaid, pleated khakis, has a really furry chest, and kind of heavyset. I didn’t know what his face looked like and I didn’t really care. It was a weird body to be in by comparison to my own, I had maybe half the chest hair as this guy, and I was considerably thinner, not to mention I’m only twenty-two. And every night I was inexplicably just so fucking horny. Every time I woke up, it felt like I hadn’t cum in days, and there was always a guy willing to get fucked nearby. And if he didn’t want it, well, it was a dream, so I’d always get my way in the end.

On the night of the thirteenth day I woke up in the sauna of a gym I thought I recognized. I didn’t have anything on, just a small hand-towel covering my groin. A guy in his mid-twenties, around the age I am in my actual body walked in, wrapped in a towel. Sweat was dripping down his smooth chest and it was quite a sight. Beautiful olive-colored skin and a springy mop of hair on his head. He took a seat on the opposite side of the sauna and spread his legs apart. I couldn’t see his crotch, but his muscled thighs were just poking out from the towel.

I casually let the towel slip off my crotch and watched it fall to the floor. The kid saw it too, but didn’t take the hint and kept his towel on. I knew no-one could say no to me in a dream, so I decided to get a little aggressive. My dick was already half hard and getting slicked with sweat from the heat. I stood up and picked up the small towel I’d “dropped” and used it to towel off my balls. I put it to my nose, but it just smelled like sweat. I thought that in dreams it would be an aphrodisiac to me, but that night I learned it wasn’t. I looked over at the boy; he was trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible.

I sat down next to him and put my hand on his thigh. He instantly recoiled and stood up, and shouted “What the fuck, man, I have a boyfriend!” I grabbed his arm and pulled him back onto the bench, and put the towel over his mouth while pinching his nose. Within moments he was passed out next to me. I immediately dis-robed him and got my hands on a sweaty, hairy cock. I gave it several gentle tugs until it started to get hard, and then I pulled the boy on top of me.

I could comfortably reach around to jerk him off as my own cock was busy wedging itself into his soft ass, probing closer and closer to entry. While my left hand was jerking the boy, I entered his mouth with my right, exploring the space. When I could feel my fingers getting coated in his warm saliva I’d lick them off; he tasted of mint. I turned him out onto his front and finally penetrated his tight ass. Everyone was so tight in these dreams.

I think the pressure was starting to wake him up, because when I sensed his body stirring I stuck my fingers back in his mouth and kept plowing him. I could feel that his mouth was curled into a smile even as I probed him. After a few more minutes I finally let all of my cum go into his ass. I don’t know how long this body had been saving it up but I must’ve done at least fifteen shots into the guy. When I finally pulled out, my cum was dripping out of him, so I scooped it up with a few fingers and then made the kid eat them. My fingers came out clean, but they didn’t taste like mint anymore--they were something even more refreshing.

As he finally seemed to be fully regaining his consciousness I sat back where I started, put the towel on my crotch and pretended like nothing had happened. His arms and legs were a little shaky as he got up. He didn’t look ashamed of anything, if anything he looked a little happy. He looked over at me and opened his mouth as if to ask, “What just happened?” but stopped. He ran his finger through his ass and then sniffed it, and then licked it. He nodded with solemn understanding of what had just been done.

I let my towel fall again and directed my voice to him, “Is it what youd been dreamin’ of, kid?” He shook his head. “Ain’t even gonna say thanks?”

“The key is on the master’s cock,” he responded.

“Excuse me?”

“The key is on the master’s cock, you said that to me before, what’s it mean?”

I didn’t know what he meant, I never told him that, especially not while decimating his holes. My real body had never seen Mr. Dadroska’s set of keys, it had never seen his cock either, so how could this boy know? It started to feel like the boy was taunting me, knowing I couldn’t escape that house. It made me angry. I walked over to him and squeezed his cock in my hand. “The next time I see you in my dreams,” I seethed, “I won’t be so gentle with your holes.”

“Sure,” he said, smirking at me. “My boyfriend gets your sloppy seconds then.”

I moved to storm out of the sauna and woke up back in the small bed with red sheets, in my own body, all by myself. But one thing was different--now I knew that the key was on the master’s cock.

I could tell it was still early morning. I got out of bed and tried the doorknob to my room--locked from the outside. I needed to get to his cock. It no longer mattered what I had to do to get it, I’d take it raw if it meant getting that key and getting out of here. I started prepping my ass for what I knew was coming soon. I noticed my finger couldn’t reach in as far as it used to, all the weight I was gaining must have gone to my ass.

A few minutes later he unlocked my door and had me sit at the kitchen table. As he prepared my breakfast I tried to level with him. “Mr. Dadroska, when are you going to fuck me?” He stopped moving mid-pancake flip and turned to stare at me with a look of guilt.

“I… can’t. It’s not my place as your guardian. I just want to make you into a good boy, the toys are good enough for that.”

I stood up and laid myself down on the kitchen table and spread my ass. “Please stop teasing me, I can handle it.” I closed my eyes and waited. And waited. Nothing happened. Eventually a plate of food was set in front of me, and I sat back down and ate it, defeated.

The rest of the day proceeded as usual. A subtle sadness crept over me when he kept using the dildo instead of his own cock. For a man so bent on shoving cocks in my ass, he showed a surprising amount of restraint when it came to his own, almost like when he was torturing me, he was really torturing himself. He cleaned the cum off my chest like usual, and fed me dinner.

As soon as he sat me on his lap to watch the news, I tried wiggling to feel around his cock. I was exploring, diving for information with my ass. Mr. Dadroska seemed to have a six-inch, bulky cock. He felt semi-hard. I could feel some bushy pubes giving me resistance as I tried grinding onto him. But I didn’t feel anything remotely resembling a key. He caught onto what I was doing and pushed me off his lap.

“Don’t fucking try anything. I’m not fucking you.” And he picked me up, sliding a finger in, and started to carry me off toward the basement. Just before we hit the stairs, I heard the Weather Girl on TV announce extraordinarily high winds in our entire county.

In the basement I did my best to maintain my investigation, but it was hard to focus over the hissing of the pipes. Mr. Dadroska gave me the usual injection, and as he sat on me, making out with me, I tried using what mobility I had to investigate his crotch. There were no fruits of my labor. I couldn’t feel anything even remotely resembling a key. I should have known better than to trust that guy from my dream. I went to sleep on the forteenth day anxious to interrogate the men in my subconscious--if the key wasn’t on the master’s cock, then where exactly was it?

On the night of the forteenth day, I woke up in the local grocery store. I was fully clothed, and my cart only had a few items in it. I could tell from the lighting it was nightime, and it was all surprisingly banal compared to the gym sauna from the previous night. I was just as horny as ever, but the store was mostly empty, so I started my search for my nightly fuck. I found him at the meat counter.

I stepped behind the counter and pulled down my pants. The man started to protest, but I insisted that I had a pound of meat he’d want to work with at the counter. All I did was skullfuck him, that just felt right in the moment. His nose kept hitting my pubes as he took my dream body’s whole six inches in, he could barely open wide enough for the whole girth. As I came I blacked out for just a few moments, and when my vision returned, there was a happy meat worker with my cum dripping out of his mouth, and I had a huge headache.

He licked his lips and made a loud smacking sound with them. “Somebody’s been eating a lot of bacon,” he said, “you taste and smell like it, and I like that.”

“What?” I asked, putting a hand to my head because of all the pressure building up.

At that moment, someone came over the loudspeaker in the store: “Attention customers, due to the heavy winds rolling into our area, we will be closing the store early in fifteen minutes. Please finalize your selections and proceed to the checkout area.”

I pulled up my pants and said nothing to the man. “Come back soon!” he called after me. The throbbing in my head was getting worse, and I started to black out again. The dream must have ended because when I woke up, it was morning.

The room was cold and breezy. I opened my eyes and sat up. But as I soon realized, everything was not as it usually was. I was in a completely different room than I normally woke up in. The bedsheets weren’t red, light was streaming in from… a broken window? It must have shattered in the night in the wind-storm. I went to rub my eyes and as I did so realized that I was still in my dream-body. I wasn’t horny like usual, fucking the meat cutter in the grocery store must’ve sated my appetite.

I had to piss, so I got up and headed out into the hallway, and I instantly knew where I was. My dreams had taken me to the site of my capture--Mr. Dadroska’s house. A shot of fear went through me: would he find me even here in my dreams? I had to be brave and seek out any information that might get me closer to the key. I jogged to the living room. Mauve drapes and a big throw rug, my mind was recreating everything perfectly. These windows had been blown open too and made the room drafty.

I knocked over every piece of furniture looking for the key but to no avail. Next I checked the kitchen and couldn’t find it in there either. The fridge was stocked with all the items I’d bought the previous night. Third was the basement, everything exatly as it had been before I’d fallen asleep. The chair was in the same position, the pipes were still hissing, I shuddered at some of the memories of the room. I checked the cabinet Mr. Dadroska always kept the syringe in, and I found it in a case marked “Filtered Water.” There was no way he was just injecting me with water, I thought. Next to it in the cabinet was a book, no, an audiobook on CD titled “Lectures on the Master-Slave Relationship in the Family Unit.”

I put the CD in and pressed play, and listened to its opening minutes, “Good afternoon, today we are gathered to discuss the means through which fathers can produce proper or societally ideal behavior in their adult sons. Though it sounds crass, assuming a position of psychological, physical or sociological mastery over his child positions the father such that he may correct deviant behavior in the child…” And I had to turn it off. What was my subconscious telling me by playing this tape? Had Mr. Dadroska been using me as a surrogate for a son he didn’t have or couldn’t control?

It was too much to process and I didn’t know how much longer I’d have before I woke up back in the real house, so I went to check on my real bedroom, it was the only place left to check. I hesitated at the door. Something was worrying me. I hadn’t seen Mr. Dadroska anywhere, maybe he was in that room. I hesitated, then knocked on the door. “I’m up, I’m up, Mr. Dadroska…” came from within. It was my voice, my real voice.

Timid, I asked the door, “Do you have any keys in there?” And I received no answer. Dejected, and not wanting to see what I looked like in the dream, I went back to the living room, shut all the windows and laid down on the couch. None of the dreams had ever lasted this long, and if this one wasn’t going to give me any information, I wanted it to end. I tried to fall asleep, thinking that might end the dream, but when I woke up from a period of drowsniness, it was from a loud knocking on the front door.

I quickly grabbed a hand-towel from the nearby kitchen to cover myself and found a man just inside the door. It was a man in khaki shorts and a light blue polo. It occured to me my dreams only ended after fucking someone. He introduced himself as from the gas company. “Good afternoon, sir, no one answered so I used the spare key we had on file for you, my apologies…” he winced at my nakedness, “Our accountants noticed that your gas bills have been unusually high these last few months, more than triple those of your neighbors in the area.” I stepped forward and let the hand-towel fall. “Uh, sir, I need to take a look at your basement pipes to make sure there hasn’t been a pipe leaking, a gas leak could mean horrible effects on any occupant’s health or mental capacity.” I went to poke at his shorts but he moved to head toward the basement door I’d left open.

 When he finished examining the pipes downstairs, I was waiting for him, hard as a rock. He seemed hesitant to do anything but eventually gave in and I fucked him as fast as I could to get it over with so that the dream could end. I sucked some of my cum out of his ass, and then he pulled up his pants.

“Thanks,” he stammered, “nice as that was, I do need to let you know about the gas leak.” I laid back on the couch and closed my eyes. “Sir, there is a pipe leaking gas in your basement, it’s making a loud hissing sound. For now, your house is fine because there’s so much wind going through it after the windstorm, but you need to fix it ASAP. Symptoms of too much gas inhalation could be becoming especially suggestible, headaches, you could do some messed up stuff to any other inhabitants, or they could do something messed up to you.”

I kept squeezing my eyes shut, my headache was gone but I needed to sleep, I didn’t want to be here anymore. I could hear him move toward the front door. “Goodbye, Mr. Dadroska, I’ll leave a note on your account about the pipe.”

A second man in my dreams had called me Mr. Dadroska, what did it mean? I didn’t want it to be true, but I couldn’t fall back asleep. All around me the dreaminess was fading away as my lungs breathed more and more clean air. If I was Mr. Dadroska, then who was that up--. I had to stop myself. I couldn’t think it. I didn’t want to think it. It had to be a dream it just had to be. I rushed upstairs and knocked on my door. “Who am I?” I asked it. No response at first. I kicked open the door and shouted in, “Who am I!?”

And there I could see myself--no, someone else--laying on the bed, staring at me with fearful and tired eyes. Their eyes drifted down to my cock, it was already hard again and still damp with cum. Who was this man? He wasn’t me, but I’d been trapped in this house too, right?

I walked over to the bed and laid down on it, my cock was pointing straight at the ceiling. I opened my mouth to say something but stopped just short of it. I had nothing to say--knew nothing to think besides that I must’ve been keeping him here for weeks. I closed my eyes to think, the world was dark again. He started jacking me off which provided momentary clarity. The gas leak. My conscience must have convinced me I was this man to avoid having to face my actions while under the influence of a gas leak. Before I knew it I was cumming into his ass. I tried opening my eyes but the world was still dark. Was I falling asleep?

I woke up and I still couldn’t see anything. I could feel a blindfold over my face. I tried to sit up but my arms and legs were tied down, and I was naked. Was this still a dream? “Who’s there?” I called out. No answer. “Mr. Dadroska, are you there?” No answer. I couldn’t call out my own name. I felt a needle go into my upper left arm. Water, right? In my dream it was water, it had to be water now.

A familiar voice spoke to me now: “It is important for the father to hold superiority over his son, if only temporarily, to produce a desirable, healthy, obedient young man…” and the tape kept playing.

Whoever was there was probing at my asshole with wet fingers. I could feel my cock getting hard. What day was it? I could swear I smelled a gas leak somewhere in the house, if I was in it anymore. A familiar cock entered me accompanying the sound of a key jangling. He was fucking with the energy of someone who’d abandoned their humanity. As he came into me, my blindfold was ripped off and I could see his face.

A familiar face. The face of-----

The End.