Chapter 6: Dreams of Sexual Worship
Sleep took Maddy like a sudden tide, pulling her under in the warm, satisfied stillness that followed Bree’s whispered declarations. One moment she was tracing the line of Bree’s spine in the dim room, the next she was falling through the mattress into a world of sound and color.
The air was different here. Thick and sweet, like spun sugar and ozone. She was standing, but there was no floor, only a surface that yielded like a memory foam mattress, warm and alive beneath her bare feet. The sky wasn’t sky. It was a liquid wash of violet bleeding into tangerine, streaked with neon greens that pulsed in time with a deep, sub-aural hum. She looked down. The black lace babydoll was gone. So were the stockings. Her body was bare, every new curve and plane illuminated in the candy-colored light. She felt no shame, only a detached curiosity.
Shadows moved at the edges of her vision. They resolved into figures, gliding towards her from a mist that smelled of rain on hot pavement and night-blooming jasmine. Women. Dozens of them. Their forms were exaggerated, hyper-real—voluptuous hips, full breasts, mouths that curved in smiles of knowing delight. They were all stunning, each unique, yet their eyes held the same singular, hungry focus. On her.
And they were all, unmistakably, erect.
The sight should have shocked her. Instead, a low, answering thrum of heat spread through her core. It was the logic of a dream, undeniable and pure.
One of them stepped forward. She had russet curls that tumbled over shoulders dusted with glitter. Her cock was thick, flushed a deep rose, and it twitched as she approached. “Look at you,” the woman cooed, her voice a melody. “All new. All soft. Does it feel strange?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Her hand, cool and smooth, cupped Maddy’s cheek. “Let us make it familiar.”
They surrounded her then, a gentle press of warm, perfumed skin. Hands found her—touching her jaw, her collarbones, tracing the sensitive undersides of her newly-formed breasts. A brunette with eyes the color of old whiskey knelt, her breath hot on Maddy’s stomach. “So pretty,” she murmured, before her tongue traced a slow, wet line from navel to sternum.
Pleasure, sharp and bright, lanced through Maddy. She gasped, her fingers tangling in the woman’s silky hair.
Another woman, with platinum braids and full, ink-dark lips, pressed against Maddy’s back. “You can touch, you know,” she whispered into Maddy’s ear. Her hands slid around Maddy’s waist, guiding Maddy’s palms to the hot, smooth skin of her own abdomen, lower, to the hard, silken weight of her arousal. “Everything here is for you to feel.”
Maddy’s hand closed around her. The sensation was electric, a feedback loop that sparked from her palm straight to her own throbbing core. The woman groaned, a sound of pure encouragement, and thrust gently into Maddy’s fist.
The dreamscape itself seemed to respond. The ground undulated more purposefully, a slow, rhythmic wave that mimicked the motions around her. The neon streaks in the sky pulsed faster. The air grew denser, perfumed with their collective arousal, a scent that was heady and addictive.
The first woman, the one with russet curls, guided Maddy down onto the yielding surface. It conformed to her body, holding her in a gentle embrace. The women lounged around her, a living tapestry of desire. They didn’t speak much now. Their language was touch, and sight, and breath.
One by one, they showed her. A blonde with sea-green eyes lifted Maddy’s leg, draped it over her shoulder, and leaned in, her tongue finding a rhythm that made Maddy cry out, her back arching off the liquid ground. The pleasure was magnified, refracted through the dream, each spike shimmering through her entire being.
Another took Maddy’s hand and wrapped it around herself, showing her a different pressure, a different pace. Maddy watched, mesmerized, as the woman’s features tightened with bliss, her release painting warm streaks across Maddy’s thigh.
It was an education without instruction. A feast without guilt. They worshipped her new form with mouths and hands, and she, in her stunned, euphoric state, worshipped theirs in return. She learned the weight of a cock in her mouth, the way a hip would stutter when she dragged her teeth along the shaft. She learned how to use her own body, how to rock against a thigh, how to seek friction until the world dissolved into a bright, white noise.
Through it all, their faces blurred and shifted. Sometimes, in the curve of a smile or the arch of an eyebrow, she saw flashes of Bree. Not the Bree she knew, but a Bree amplified, confident in a way that was both terrifying and magnetic. It was Bree’s laugh that seemed to ripple through the group when Maddy came so hard she saw stars. It was Bree’s green eyes, staring back at her from a dozen different faces, gleaming with possession and pride.
“You’re a natural,” one of them sighed, her head resting on Maddy’s belly as they both caught their breath.
“Was it always in you?” another asked, tracing patterns on Maddy’s skin with a lazy finger. “This hunger? This talent?”
Maddy had no answer. She was nothing but sensation, a vessel being filled and refilled. The dream had no end, only peaks and valleys of escalating, shared need. It was a circuit of pleasure, each touch feeding the next, the electric air itself seeming to vibrate with their collective energy.
She lost count of the women, of the ways they connected. The dreamtime stretched, syrupy and infinite. Just as she felt she might dissolve entirely into the neon haze, a familiar voice cut through the murmur of sighs.
“Maddy.”
It was Bree’s voice, but solid, real, anchoring.
The pastel sky fractured like broken glass.
Maddy opened her eyes. She was gasping, her skin slick with sweat that cooled instantly in the dawn light filtering through the blinds. She was back in their bed, the sage-grey walls solid and still. The deep, electric hum was gone, replaced by the distant rumble of a garbage truck.
Bree was propped up on one elbow beside her, her blonde hair messy, her green eyes wide and alert. Her expression was a mix of concern and fierce curiosity. One of her hands was resting on Maddy’s hip, the touch steadying.
“You were talking in your sleep,” Bree whispered. “Moaning, really. And moving. A lot.” Her thumb stroked the bone of Maddy’s hip. “What were you dreaming about?”
Maddy’s body still thrummed with phantom sensations. The ache between her legs was profound, real. She could still taste salt and perfume on her tongue. She looked at Bree, really looked, seeing the woman she loved superimposed over the harem of dream women. The connection was instant, undeniable.
A slow, secret smile spread across Maddy’s lips. She felt bold, cracked open. She turned onto her side to face Bree, the sheet slipping down to her waist. “You,” Maddy said, her voice raspy from sleep and raw from imagined cries. “But more of you. Lots more.” She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of Bree’s jaw, just as she had in the dream. “It was… a very good dream.”
Bree’s eyes darkened. The concern melted away, replaced by a dawning, hungry understanding. She didn’t ask for details. She didn’t need to. The proof was in Maddy’s flushed skin, her dilated pupils, the fresh, needy scent rising from the sheets between them.
“Yeah?” Bree’s voice was low. She shifted closer, her knee sliding between Maddy’s thighs, applying a gentle, promising pressure. “Tell me.”
But Maddy didn’t want to talk. The dream had been a language of touch. She needed to translate. She leaned in, closing the distance, and kissed Bree with all the pent-up, dream-fed fervor still coursing through her. It was messy and deep, all tongue and teeth and shared breath.
When she pulled back, Bree looked thoroughly kissed, and utterly thrilled. “Okay then,” Bree breathed, a laugh dancing at the edge of the word. Her hands slid down Maddy’s back, possessive and sure. “Let’s see if we can make the waking world just as good.”
Her mouth was on Maddy’s again before the words finished echoing, hungry and insistent. The dream’s phantom sensations were gone, replaced by the stark, urgent reality of Bree’s weight, the cool cotton sheets, the morning light carving gold stripes across the rumpled bed. Everything was more vivid, more intense.
Maddy’s body responded before her mind could catch up, arching into the touch with a fluency that felt both alien and deeply correct. Her hands found Bree’s back, pulling her closer, feeling the powerful shift of muscle beneath smooth skin. A soft, broken sound escaped her throat, and Bree drank it in, her kiss turning devouring.
“You’re so much louder now,” Bree murmured against her lips, her voice a ragged whisper. She moved her mouth to the column of Maddy’s throat, her teeth grazing a spot that sent a violent shiver down Maddy’s spine. “I can feel every gasp right here.” Her hand slid between them, fingers splaying over the lower curve of Maddy’s stomach.
Bree’s touch was different. It wasn’t the exploratory hesitation of last night, or the surreal worship of the dream. It was knowing. Claiming. Her fingers dipped lower, through soft curls, and Maddy jerked as if shocked. A full-body tremor followed, her heels digging into the mattress. The sensitivity was overwhelming, a live wire of nerve endings she’d never possessed before.
“See?” Bree breathed, watching her face. Her finger traced a slow, maddening circle, applying just enough pressure to make Maddy’s vision blur at the edges. “All that dream pleasure… it’s still right here. simmering. I want to see it boil over.”
The words were a command. Maddy could only nod, a frantic little movement, her fingers clutching at Bree’s shoulders. She was dissolving again, but into something real, something anchored by Bree’s green-eyed gaze. Bree shifted, her own arousal a hard, undeniable heat against Maddy’s thigh.
“Tell me what you want,” Bree said, though her tone left no room for negotiation. It was a test. Her movements stilled, waiting.
Maddy’s mind scrambled. She wanted the dream back. She wanted the safety of those anonymous, perfect women. She wanted, more than anything, to give Bree what she sought. “I want…” she started, her voice a hoarse thread. “I want what you want.”
A slow smile spread across Bree’s face, transforming her features into something radiant and dangerous. “Good girl.” The praise hit Maddy like a drug, warm and syrupy in her veins. Bree moved then, with a new purpose.
Bree moved then, with a new purpose. She rolled, taking Maddy with her, their bodies slotting together in a swift, practiced motion that left Maddy on her back and Bree above her. The morning light cut across Bree’s shoulders, gliding the fine blonde hair on her arms. “No more dreaming,” Bree said, her voice a low scratch. “Just this. Just me.”
Her knee pressed more insistently between Maddy’s thighs, a firm anchor. Her hands pinned Maddy’s wrists to the pillow, not with brute force, but with a certainty that made struggling unthinkable. Maddy could feel Bree’s hardened length against her hip, a hot, unfamiliar ridge. Her breath hitched. It was one thing to dream it, another to feel its tangible weight against her skin in their sunlit bedroom.
“You feel that?” Bree whispered, leaning down so her lips brushed Maddy’s ear. “That’s what you dreamed about, isn’t it?” She rocked her hips, a slow, grinding pressure that sparked a helpless sound from Maddy’s throat. “You can say it.”
Maddy’s mind was white noise. “Yes,” she gasped. The word was a exhale of surrender.
“Good.” Bree released her wrists, her hands sliding down to cradle Maddy’s face. Her thumbs stroked Maddy’s cheekbones. “Then look at me. The whole time.” Her green eyes were blazing, no trace of the sweet, demure girl who’d suggested a break just days ago. This was someone else. Someone who knew exactly what she wanted and was finally taking it.
Bree shifted back, kneeling between Maddy’s legs. She guided Maddy’s knees apart with a touch that was shockingly gentle compared to the fierce possession in her gaze. The air was cool on Maddy’s exposed skin. She felt terrifyingly open, completely vulnerable. Bree just watched, her eyes drinking in the sight, a slow smile playing on her lips. “Perfect,” she murmured, more to herself than to Maddy.
Then she leaned forward, but not to kiss her. She lowered her head, her blonde hair falling like a curtain around them. Her mouth, when it found Maddy’s center, was searingly hot and knowing. There was no hesitation, no tentative exploration. Bree licked into her with a focused intensity that sent a bolt of pure lightning up Maddy’s spine. Her back arched off the bed, a ragged cry torn from her lungs.
Bree hummed in approval, the vibration against sensitive flesh making Maddy’s toes curl. Her hands came up to grip Maddy’s hips, holding her firmly in place as she tasted her with a deep, languorous pace. It was nothing like the dream. The dream was a kaleidoscope of sensation. This was a laser, precise and devastating, zeroing in on a cluster of nerves Maddy was still learning she had.
“Bree, please,” Maddy choked out, her fingers fisting in the sheets. She was already trembling on the edge, the coiling pressure from the dream resurrecting and intensifying tenfold under Bree’s expert tongue.
Bree pulled back, breathing heavily. Her lips were slick and swollen. “Please what?” she asked, her voice thick.
Maddy couldn’t form the words. She could only look, her chest heaving, every inch of her skin flushed and aching. She reached for Bree, a silent plea.
That seemed to be the answer Bree wanted. She moved up Maddy’s body, her own breath coming fast now. The hard heat of her pressed against Maddy’s stomach. “You want this?” Bree asked, aligning herself. The question was a formality. The head of her cock nudged against Maddy, slick with both their arousal, an insistent, foreign pressure.
A wave of fear, sharp and sudden, cut through the haze of need. Maddy froze. Her eyes widened. This was real. This was permanent. Her body clenched instinctively.
Bree saw it. She stilled completely. For a long moment, she just looked down at Maddy, her expression unreadable. The electric charge in the room dipped, replaced by a tense, waiting silence.
Then, Bree’s face softened, just a fraction. She brushed a strand of hair from Maddy’s forehead. “Hey,” she whispered. “Look at me.” Maddy forced her eyes to focus. “Remember the closet?” Bree’s voice was calm, grounding. “Remember what you asked for? You wanted to be everything I desire.” She leaned closer, her forehead touching Maddy’s. “This is what I desire. You. Like this.”
The words dissolved the fear, replacing it with a dizzying sense of purpose. That earnest, naive wish in the distorted closet was the thread that had led here, to this moment, to this new body. Maddy took a shuddering breath. She wrapped her legs around Bree’s waist, pulling her closer. “Yes,” she said again, the word firmer this time. A choice.
Bree’s eyes flashed with something victorious and tender all at once. She pressed forward, a slow, inexorable invasion. Maddy gasped, her nails biting into Bree’s shoulders. There was a sharp sting, a burning stretch, a feeling of being utterly filled in a way that was terrifying and profoundly right. It chased away the last ghost of Matt, burying him under a wave of physical reality that was too overwhelming to question.
Bree didn’t move for what felt like an eternity, letting Maddy adjust, letting her breathe. Sweat beaded on Bree’s temples. “Okay?” she gritted out, the strain of holding back evident in her voice.
Maddy nodded, a tiny movement. She felt split open and complete. “Okay.”
Then Bree began to move. It was a slow roll of her hips at first, a deep, grinding rhythm that seemed to reach into Maddy’s very core. Each thrust brushed a spot inside her that sparked white behind her eyelids. She was moaning with each exhale, a continuous, broken sound she didn’t recognize as her own voice.
“That’s it,” Bree growled, her composure fraying. Her pace quickened, each stroke becoming more urgent, more driving. The bed began to knock softly against the wall in a steady, frantic tempo. “God, Maddy… you feel… you’re so…”
Her words disintegrated into a groan. She buried her face in Maddy’s neck, her breath hot and ragged. Her movements lost their measured control, becoming raw, animalistic. Maddy clung to her, meeting each thrust, lost in a storm of sensation that was both a surrender and a claiming. The world narrowed to the slick sound of their joining, the smell of sex and sweat, the feeling of Bree’s weight anchoring her to the earth.
The world narrowed to the slick sound of their joining, the smell of sex and sweat, the feeling of Bree’s weight anchoring her to the earth. Every nerve in Maddy’s body was a live wire, singing with a frequency that drowned out everything but the present, pressing reality of Bree moving inside her. She’d never felt so full, so used, so inexplicably right.
“Look at me,” Bree gasped, her rhythm faltering for a second as she fought for control.
Maddy’s eyes, which had squeezed shut, fluttered open. Bree’s face was flushed, her lip caught between her teeth, strands of blonde hair sticking to her damp temples. That fierce, green-eyed gaze held hers, and Maddy felt something lurch inside her chest, a different kind of penetration. This wasn’t the dream. The dream women had been faceless vessels. This was Bree, seeing every shattered piece of her.
“You’re here,” Bree whispered, a statement, not a question. She drove into her again, deeper. “You’re really here.”
A sob ripped from Maddy’s throat, but it was tangled with a laugh, a pure burst of bewildered joy. Her hips lifted to meet Bree’s next thrust, a clumsy, eager collaboration. The initial sting had melted into a breathtaking radiance, heat pooling and spreading from her core out to her fingertips. She was a instrument being played masterfully, a note held until it vibrated in the air.
“I can’t…” Maddy choked out, her hands scrambling over Bree’s back. The coil in her abdomen was wound impossibly tight, a spring about to snap. “Bree, I’m gonna…”
“I know.” Bree’s smile was wild, triumphant. She hooked her hands under Maddy’s knees, pushing them back toward her shoulders. The angle changed, deepened, and Maddy saw stars. “Let go. Come on. For me.”
"For me."
Those two words shattered the last restraint. Something deep within Maddy fractured, a dam of tension and new sensation giving way. A sound tore from her throat, raw and unrecognizable, as the world turned white and electric. Her back arched off the mattress, her spine a taut bow. It wasn't a gentle wave; it was a seizure of pleasure, violent and total, wiping every thought from her mind except Bree's name vibrating through her bones.
Bree didn't stop.
She drove into the convulsing, clenching heat, her own rhythm unwavering, even as Maddy sobbed and writhed beneath her. The oversensitivity was instant, a shocking, almost painful feedback loop that made Maddy gasp and flinch. "Shh, I know," Bree groaned, her voice strained with effort. She pinned Maddy's hips down, holding her through the tremors. "Just feel it. Let it happen."
Every nerve was a lit fuse. The intense pleasure curdled into something sharper, a breathtaking ache that blurred the line between agony and ecstasy. Maddy whimpered, her hands pushing weakly at Bree's shoulders. "Too much, it's too–"
"It's supposed to be," Bree cut in, her breath hot against Maddy's ear. She didn't slow. She leaned into each thrust, deeper, claiming the space her climax had opened. The slick, rhythmic sound filled the room, a obscene counterpoint to Maddy's ragged breathing. "Your body doesn't know what 'too much' is yet. I'm teaching it."
Tears welled in Maddy's eyes, spilling over onto the pillow. The sensation was overwhelming, a relentless tide that pulled her under again just as she thought she might surface. Each deep stroke reignited a echo of the initial cataclysm, a secondary, shuddering pulse that kept her locked in a dizzying spin. She was utterly helpless, a creature of pure reflex and sensation.
Bree watched her, captivated. Her green eyes drank in every twitch, every tear-tracked flinch. A possessive, wild pride flared in her expression. "Look at you," she murmured, her pace relentless. "Dripping. Just like I wanted." She dragged a thumb through the mess on Maddy's stomach, then brought it to her own mouth, never breaking rhythm. "All mine."
The words, the gesture, the unyielding physicality of it—it fused in Maddy’s overloaded brain. This was the price and the reward of the wish she’d gasped in that impossible closet. To be Bree’s. To be this. Her resistance melted. A broken moan was her only answer, her body going pliant, accepting the brutal, exquisite rhythm.
Bree’s control began to fray at the edges. Her thrusts grew uneven, jarring. Her fingers dug into Maddy’s thighs. A rough, shuddering groan escaped her lips. "Gonna fill you up," she gasped, the words slurred. "Make it real. Make it stick."
The promise, raw and visceral, triggered another helpless clench inside Maddy. She felt Bree swell, pulse, then finally, violently crest. Bree’s cry was guttural, a release of years of pent-up want. Heat bloomed inside Maddy, a shocking, intimate claim that seared through the aftershocks still racking her system.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their shared, shattered breathing. Bree collapsed atop her, a sweaty, trembling weight. The smell of sex and salt filled Maddy's lungs. The morning light felt obscenely bright, illuminating the wreckage of the sheets, their tangled limbs.
Bree finally shifted, rolling onto her side but keeping an arm slung possessively across Maddy’s waist. She was quiet, her eyes closed, a faint smile on her swollen lips.
Maddy stared at the ceiling, her body humming with a strange, hollowed-out electricity. Everything felt different. The air on her skin. The weight of her own limbs. The quiet of the room. She was a map of new sensations, every one charted by Bree.
"Still with me?" Bree’s voice was a sleepy murmur.
Maddy turned her head. Bree looked thoroughly fucked and utterly at peace. The demure girlfriend was gone, erased in the dawn light. This was what had been hiding underneath. This was what the break was for.
"Yeah," Maddy whispered. Her voice was hoarse, foreign to her own ears.
Bree’s smile widened, just a fraction. Her hand drifted lower, fingers splaying over Maddy’s still-thrumming stomach. "Good." She let out a long, satisfied sigh. "We're just getting started."