Knowing Their Fantasiesbystorysman©
The office was still fairly empty as Brooke entered the kitchen to get her morning glass of water. She generally beat most of her employees to work, as her schedule was dictated by the bus departure times. She didn't mind riding the bus, but she wouldn't mind an extra hour of sleep, either.
Ellen, one of her better friends at the company, was at the coffee pot waiting nervously for the brew to be complete. Ellen was useless without coffee, but Brooke, sleepy as she may be, refused to become a slave to the caffeinated drink. Instead, she went with water and a slice of lemon.
"Morning, Ellen." She said quietly to her friend.
"Morning." Her reply was automatic. She was still focused on the coffee pot. Brooke went to the water cooler and filled a cup. By the time she had added her lemon, Ellen was cheerfully next her, fresh cup of coffee in hand.
"Is that the dress Scott bought you?" she asked.
Brooke smiled and briefly modeled her fiancées gift.
Brooke smiled again. "He does have good taste."
"Well, on you, anything looks good."
Brooke blushed at the compliment, yet it wasn't the first time she had heard it.
Their conversation was interrupted by Tony. "Good morning." He said to Ellen. "Good morning, Brooke."
Brooke smiled lightly and returned the greeting. Tony went to the coffee machine. Brooke and Ellen headed out of the kitchen. Brooke felt Tony's eyes watching her as she walked by. They were down the hall a few feet when Ellen proclaimed, "He has it bad for you, sweetie."
Brooke played dumb, but she knew Ellen was right. More than Ellen realized herself.
Tony was obsessed with Brooke, to the point of being unhealthy. Ellen didn't know just how serious his crush was – nobody knew but Brooke.
The thing was, Brooke had a 'gift.' She wasn't psychic, per se, but she had an unusual ability to detect men's sexual desires for her. She rarely spoke of the talent, as the few friends she had told laughed at her and said anyone could detect a man's sexual desire with the body Brooke possessed and the stunningly beautiful face to go with it. But it wasn't just an obvious attraction Brooke detected in men, it was the desires themselves. Right down to the image of her they had in their minds, right down to the ways they wished to make love to her. Bill in accounting pictured her in red panties with no bra, because she resembled a girl in Playboy in that outfit. Harry, the CEO, fantasized about a rewards-for sexual favors relationship. He pictured her on his desk constantly, legs open, waiting to either be eaten out or fucked. In return, he would promote her. Harry never acted on his fantasy in reality, however. He was always a pure professional.
Tony wanted to rape her.
That was why she rarely stayed near him too long, why she never accepted a ride home from him, never told him any shopping plans. She never gave him any information where he could be alone with her. Like Harry, he never outwardly showed any indication of his deeply buried desires, but Brooke knew what he wanted to do to her. And it was violent. He didn't want to seduce her, he wanted ravage her. In some fantasies, he imagined raping in her in front of a tied-and-bound Scott. In others, the ones Brooke truly feared, Tony would beat her, fuck her, and upon completion of his orgasm, pull out a long silver knife and plunge it into her heart in one last thrust inside.
They passed by Mark, one of their attorneys. Brooke immediately felt his eyes scanning her in her new, tight, black dress. Almost immediately she got an image in her mind of her on a bed, the tight black dress flipped up over her ass, Mark naked and pounded into her doggy-style. His hands slipped inside the dress.
As they passed, so did the image.
Brooke knew the images were real, that they were the real fantasies of the men she encountered anyway. She had proof. She had some of those fantasies become real.
As a teenager blossoming into a beautiful woman, the 'gift' was difficult. She found herself put off by men as she picked up on the fantasies of her classmates, her male teachers, and even her father. At first, she tried to convince herself it was her own wild imagination. But when one teacher held her for detention, a fantasy she had detected in him, she knew her visions were more than her own concoctions.
He was the science teacher. His fantasy basically consisted of Brooke being held after class. His fantasy was clear down to the point of her dress, as it always had her in her short leather min-skirt and low-cut black top. After detaining her, he would use some chemical mixture that would make her fall asleep. He would carry her into the lab room, which had no windows, and stretch her out on a table. In his fantasy, he would then slip his hands under her skirt and begin fingering her pussy. She never wore panties in the fantasy, evidently an incredible turn-on for the teacher, and he would penetrate her until her sleeping body lubricated, then mount her.
In his fantasy, he imagined Brooke waking up because the size of his cock was so big, it jolted her awake. It would feel so good that she would embrace him, and thrust her hips upwards to meet his and they shared a mutual orgasm. That was the one thing that differed from the reality.
Though she was nervous about attending the actual detention she received, she just couldn't accept that a teacher was going to molest and rape her. She had made a pint never to wear the black mini-skirt and black top again, but she had perhaps dressed too close to the image with a black cloth skirt and red blouse. Red panties underneath foiled his fantasy, but not that he could no that. She had been in detention about an hour before the teacher left the room. By that time, the school was empty of everyone expect a few staff members. No one close by, at any rate. Brooke wasn't sure of the exact events of what happened after he left the room, because she fell asleep. And though she didn't wake up with the teacher inside her, she did eventually wake up back in her chair. Her pussy was throbbing, she felt moisture on her inner thighs. But the main reason she knew he enacted his pleasure…
Her red panties were gone.
After that, she had a hard time being with men. It wasn't that she didn't want to be - -she felt attraction for men just as other straight, healthy females did. But she couldn't trust men. When she knew what someone wanted to do to her, really wanted to do to her, it caused the fear that they might try to do it when she wasn't willing or ready. Unfortunately her ability didn't reveal romantic or noble intent. She hoped, she believed, that some men could actually cherish her, treasure her, and love her for her complete self and not just the lustful fantasies she inspired.
So she sought out those men, avoiding sex with each and every one. Until Scott. It wasn't that Scott didn't have fantasies about her, he did. But they were different. He often imagined her simply in her bra and panties, moving about the house, or going horse-back riding and sneaking feels on the trail. He even fantasized about their wedding and having children.
So he was the man that took her true virginity. The man she first gave herself too. And the man she was going to marry. She loved fulfilling his fantasies. She could see them before he revealed them. Another interesting quirk about her ability was that seeing the fantasies of men didn't arouse her. She could see what they were doing, but not feel it. But Scott's fantasies did arouse her. She still couldn't feel his actions, but knowing how happy the fulfillment of those fantasies would make him always make her look forward to sex with him.
Brooke sat at her cubicle, alone from Ellen, alone for the gawking men. She normally tried to dress conservatively, to try to prevent fueling the raging desires of her coworkers, but she had to wear this dress for Scott. It was his fantasy to have men leer at her, only for her to come back to him. Of course, he never talked about his arousal at having men lust for his bride-to-be, but she knew. She also knew that being with another man would devastate him. Not once did she ever detect a fantasy where he pictured her with another man.
As the day passed, all of Brooke's friends complimented the dress. The men did, too, but not verbally. She could see their compliments in the images of her legs below the short hemline, the tight shaping of the fabric to her breasts, and the constant behind-view of her ass walking down a corridor. She knew this was simply the sexiest thing she had ever worn to the office. And that she had to be careful.
Tony's fantasies were exceptionally strong. He made numerous unnecessary visits to her cube, just to glimpse down her neckline or at any extra half-inch up her hemline that he could. She didn't see him without a bulge in his pants a single time. He was running through every possible rape scenario he could, from offering her a ride home to trapping her in the supply basement. Each fantasy ended with him driving a silver blade into her breast, and then an image of Scott weeping at her funeral. She realized that the knife imagery only came about after she announced her engagement. Evidently Tony was mortally wounded that she chose Scott over him.
His final fantasy was the one the scared her the most. Tony knew she took the bus. And he knew which bus. The fantasy he apparently settled on had him getting on her bus and following her home. Though he had know way of knowing she lived alone (or so she thought) he as accurate in imagining her being alone. Scott always came by later, but Brooke knew that if Tony were to enact his fantasy, that he would have ample time to do whatever he wanted to her. And what he wanted…
It was simple. She wouldn't go home.
She kept a close eye on Tony as the end of the day approached. She knew he had checked the employee database for her address, she thought in his fantasy. He was going to get on the bus with her, hide himself in his sunglasses and drape his jacket partly over his face. What he didn't know was that Brooke knew his every plan. She waited for him to leave first, as he was hoping to do so he could get on the bus and conceal himself before she boarded. She waited a few moments, then began gathering her things. The phone rang.
"Hey, Brooke." It was Harry, the CEO. "Can I see you in my office a moment?"
"Sure." Brooke quickly grabbed her things, then proceeded down the hall.
She hadn't thought about the purpose of the visit until she reached the doorway. Harry's fantasy sprung to life in her mind. He was going to ask her to stay late. For her cooperation, he would take her to the best restaurant in town. He would buy her all the drinks she wanted, then pull off the road on the way back into a park and attempt to seduce her. If she wasn't interested in him directly, his offer of promotion would be made. In his fantasy, she wanted him, but didn't want to hurt Scott. The offer of promotion swayed her into giving in.
Brooke knocked on the door.
She opened the door and walked in.
"Please, close the door behind you."
Brooke did as instructed.
"Brooke, I know this is last minute, but it turns out we have a report that absolutely has to be done by tomorrow and I'm hoping you can stay an extra couple of hours to get it done."
"Mr. Steward, I would normally, but –"
"I know it's a lot to ask, and that's why if you accept, I will take you to The Crest for dinner." Sure enough, the revolving restaurant in the middle of town.
"I would, Mr. Steward, but I'm afraid I have a doctors appointment I really need to attend."
He didn't seem to buy it.
"Feminine problem." She said.
Harry's fantasy image disappeared from her mind.
"I think Ellen might be able to help…" he said.
"Thank you, Mr. Steward." And with that, Brooke happily escaped.
She had already planned which bus to take. Normally she took an express route because it took half the time. Today, she would take the normal route. She would call Scott from her cell and tell him to meet her at home, just in case Tony decided to hang around when he saw she wasn't on the bus.
She climbed onto her new ride, and found a seat a few rows in back of the driver. She pulled out her cell and dialed Scott's work number. He didn't answer but she got his voicemail. She calmly asked him to come straight over after work. She didn't want to worry him, but she did want him there.
Feeling a little more at ease, Brooke laid her head against the window and closed her eyes. She opened them briefly as a woman took the seat next to her, but then quickly returned to a near-dozing state. The bus started moving, and Brooke felt pretty much at ease. She wasn't sure how Tony would react to her tomorrow, but she knew she was going to dress down, perhaps even feign illness if his fantasy got worked up again. She truly he hoped he wasn't capable of actually doing the things to her he pictured in his mind. She did believe that some people fantasized about things they would never do or never want to happen. But she had learned enough at this point to not take any chances, especially with her life at stake.
As she relaxed more deeply, Brooke began to see herself sitting in the chair, despite the fact that her eyes were closed. The vantage point was as if the was a camera directly in front of her, with no seats and no people. Yet the bus appeared normal behind her. In the vision, she started to notice the eyes around her growing brighter, standing out from the shadowy darkness. They were turning on her. Her image appeared nervous for a moment, and scratched her head out of curiosity. Suddenly the image shifted. It was a different vantage point. It was her getting on the bus, and the narrow tunnel of vision moved from her face down to her breasts. The image switched again, off to the side, and centered on her legs as she took her seat. Another switch -- right between her legs at ground level, looking all the way up her dress to the shininess of her panties.
Brooke opened her eyes with a start. She looked in front of her to see if somehow a man had the view she just experienced. No one did. She closed her eyes again, no the viewpoint was above her, as though the bus had no ceiling, and slowly zoomed in on her chest, the angle allowing for a view of her cleavage and a hint of her black satin bra. Another switch. The seat next to her. A view looking at her now-crossed legs and the extra flesh exposed by the inevitable rising of the hemline.
I must be seeing all of their visions. She thought. Every man on the bus who is thinking about me.
Yet, there were no fantasies. None of the men were making love to her in the visions. In addition, some of the angles were impossible for someone to actually be witnessing.
Her image changed again, now as they there was a seat to her left. The image was focused on her lap, slowly moving inward. Her dress faded away, and she could clearly see her legs and panties. The image floated down, underneath the crossed leg, and settled on the tiny, firm stretch of white panty fabric between her legs. My panties are black she reminded herself. This is just your imagination. But the image didn't falter. In fact, it slowly pulled back, and Brooke saw herself sitting in the white panties, and a silk, satin bra, and nothing else. The image pulled back even more, and Brooke could see the shadowy outlines of men gathered around her seat, staring at her. She began to feel incredibly uneasy.
She watched the vision unfold further. Her right bra strap fell off her shoulder and looked as if it was being pulled by an invisible hand. Her image clutched at her chest, trying to keep the bra on her body. The right strap came down as well, and she knew the clasp in back had been released. She watched herself struggle with all her strength to keep the bra from flying off her body. She succeeded, but the devoted attention allowed her legs to fling open. Her panties were starting to twitch. Both hands moved between her legs out of instinct. Her bra flew off into the shadowy men, and her breasts bounced into the open. They seemed extra-large, probably twice their normal size.
She felt a cold hand close around her right breast.
Brooke opened her eyes with a start. No one was near her except the woman in the seat beside hers. No one had touched her.
But I don't feel anything in my visions! She thought. She head had clearly felt a hand on her breast… she could still feel the remnants of touch in her nipple.
Without closing her eyes, the vision returned as though it was forcing itself on her. She was leaning forward in her seat, nude breasts dangling, her hands wedged tightly between her legs attempting to keep her panties from the fate of her bra. She could see out of the eyes of her image, right past her breasts and to her hands. She could feel the satin in her clutch. But it was shrinking. The straps holding the panties around her waist were shriveling, they no longer connected. Her panties were no more than a piece of cloth laying over her pussy. But even that was shrinking.
Brooke could feel the satin in her hands fading. She could see the public hairs around her vagina come into view. She wedged her hands deeply between her legs, but felt a powerful force pulling at them, Within moments her hands were flung back, her whole body tilted backwards as her perspective realized she was on the vision's bus floor. She was completely exposed.
She could see a line of shadowy men stretching for what appeared to be infinity in front of her. In each one she could sense a building lust and determined desire. Her hands and legs were bound by an invisible force. Her breasts and pussy were open for the taking.
Suddenly the scene shifted back to reality. The bus had come to a stop. A number of people were getting off. Brooke looked over her shoulder nervously and patted her sides. Still in the black dress. Still in her bra, and still in her panties. A number of men looked at her as they walked by, some even taking a second look as the headed down the steps. But nothing seemed unusual about any of them. Brooke hoped that whichever man was creating the fantasy image in her mind had exited the bus. In light of her current situation, didn't need anymore ominous imagery.
The bus doors shut and at the same instant Brooke felt her head go light and her vision go black. She felt herself shaking her head and blinking her eyes, but when vision reappeared, she still could not see the bus.
Instead she saw a bright blue sky. Her eyes trailed down and she noticed the sun setting behind a cliff. A waterfall sprung from the cliff and fell into a pool of crystal blue water. She realized in the vision that was sitting in a lounge chair in a setting that could best be described as paradise. She looked down at herself, again in the black dress. She felt a spray of water from the waterfall. Again sensation… something was very different about these visions. Something powerful. Something scary.
Brooke became aware of someone next to her in the vision. Her perspective didn't change, but she could sense him. It was definitely a man, and he was looking at her. But it wasn't like the fear she had in the bus vision… this man seemed protective. She didn't know why she thought that way, she just felt it. The comfort he was providing started to ease some of the fears of the vision.
Brooke began to feel hot. The sun was pounding down on her black dress, heating her body with each passing moment. She could feel sweat on her face, on her chest, and on her legs. The occasional spray of the waterfall sent fleeting moments of refreshment through her. But her body wasn't moving. The vision seemed to be paused, and she wondered can I do something? Brooke had never been able to control the visions, they always went in the direction of the man she was sensing. She could usually break an image, and focus back on reality, but not actually control the vision. Maybe she could now. But she worried, any action she might be doing in these thoughts she might mimic in reality. She was sure to get some unusual stares if that happened. Still, the heat was becoming unbearable. She decided to start simple. Look to the left. Her head turned in the vision, and she looked down a long, sandy beach. She could make out people some distance away. Look to the right, she thought, hoping to catch a glimpse of the protective man besides her. But her head stopped turning at the waterfall. Something, or someone was blocking her from seeing him.