Dream Chasers 02

DISCLAIMER

This is a romantic adult erotic story with fictional characters and plot, targeted at fingernail fetish readers. If extremely long fingernails and/or toenails gross you out, then you're in the wrong place.

'Dream chasers - The First Lesson'

by V. Tarransky

Dec 2021

...And then: The First Lesson

At six I messaged my boss and the team I worked with that I was clocking off. Then I reclined my office chair, leaned back and closed my eyes, breathing slowly in and out, paying attention as I was doing it. I tried to meditate and let my mind loose. It didn't take long before the recollection of the encounter with Helen kicked in and I imagined her posing her nails for me. "I know what you'd like right now," she was saying. I kept looking at her while she was showing me her hands. "Touch them" she lured me, slowly extending her left hand towards me. I couldn't refuse. I was hypnotized. My reasoning faded. I took her hand and felt her nails. I gently traced them top and bottom. "Will you grow them longer? Please?" I asked with guilt. I was already hard and almost bursting by now.

"Of cooourssse..." I heard her whispered reply and saw her right hand come up and caress my own hands still touching her left hand nails. Then she raised it slowly for me to look at it and started to subtly wiggle her fingers. Her nails started to slowly grow in front of my eyes. My heart was pounding, this was so... 'satisfying' and impossible not to watch, I was breathing heavily and groaning on the exhales. Their subtle curves and twists were becoming more and more pronounced as they grew and got to the point where they started to tremble and shiver with each wiggle, because of their weight along the length. "Oh my God!... Oh my God!..." I cried in torment breathing heavily. "Theo?..." I heard her ask somehow... worriedly. "Theo!... Are you OK?" I heard her call out to me. I jerked awake still laying back in my chair.

"Huh?..." I looked up. She was standing in front of my desk with a worried look on her face, holding a paper bag bearing the brand of the shop downstairs.

I looked at the clock displayed by the screensaver on the pc monitor. 19:07. Then at her. Then again at my watch. Consistent.

"Uh... please forgive me," I said rubbing my eyes "...I must've..." (yaaaawn) "...dozed off".

"God, you scared me. I knocked on the door quite a few times. And then I heard something like... someone being tortured. Only then I came in. But you shouldn't leave your door unlocked like that."

"Sorry, I... uh..."

Awkward. I didn't know what to say.

"Are you having nightmares? That must've been a pretty horrible dream."

"Erm... I... uh... would... say that it was... real torture" I looked for something ambigous to say. I couldn't just... tell her what the dream was actually about.

"D'you want to talk about it?"

"NO!" I snapped instantly. "...Erm... no," I rearranged it to a less defensive style. "Sorry, it's been an exhausting day, it was... unfair to snap at you like that."

"It's ok, don't worry about it... I'd have thought you don't have nightmares... with being able to know that you're dreaming and all that."

"I'm not... that good. Erm... grab a seat, I'll be with you in a minute. I need to splash some water on my face."

I went to the bathroom to freshen up. I did every single check I knew to make sure that I'm not dreaming and then got back.

The living room had two distinct areas, one for work, by the window, where the work desk and office chair were positioned, and on the opposite side, a relaxation area, where a corner sofa and two chairs surrounded a coffee table.

When I got back she was already seated on the sofa, the paper bag with fresh pastry was on the coffee table. I brought from the kitchen two plates, two glasses and a jug of water, arranged them on the coffee table and then I sat opposite to her, stealing glances at her nails, trying not to be obvious.

"So. First things first" I started. "I'm not an expert at this, and what I will... tell you, because I can't say that I will teach you, is from my personal experience with lucid dreaming so far. It's a pretty steep learning curve and with not so much satisfaction, even in the long run, because your goals with this will change as you get better. Remember that analogy I gave you with martial arts? You'll never be perfect at this and you'll always feel that there's still so much left to... achieve. Clear so far?"

"Clear."

"Second. I do not have a method or a curriculum to which I will stick you to. It's basically your... will and the amount of time and effort that you put into it. You try, you practice and we talk about it. You tell me about your failures or boast about your success. And I will try to help you understand why you fail. Or pat you on the back when you succeed. Or maybe even the other way around, I'm open to the idea that I might actually learn from you a thing or two. Or more. If you're not okay with this then you may want to reconsider how you spend this time. Still with me?"

"Yes."

"Third. How's your sleep? Any problems there?"

"Umm... I don't think so... How would I know?"

"Do you have consistent bedtime? Do you get enough sleep?"

"I... think I do, I didn't have much of a night life before. Now even less. Five or six hours at least I think?...Every night?"

"That's not so bad, but try to do better. Seven or eight. Without enough sleep there are no dreams. Let alone lucid ones."

"Ok. I have a question" she said, raising a long nailed hand like a class student does to get the teacher's attention. My eyes jumped to her hand and the undersides of her nails.

"Go ahead."

"When did you start, why, and how long did it take you to... succeed."

"That's three questions."

"Does it matter?"

"The point I'm making is that I'm paying attention. In my... philosophy, so to speak, everything is attention. The level of attention you put in any endeavor is the main variable that determines its outcome. Now to your questions."

I was trying to keep looking at her but my eyes were helplessly stealing glances at her hands and nails.

"I started about four years ago. My first lucid dream came two months after I started dream journaling consistently, which I did after about half a year of reading and listening to podcasts about it. So I'd say... about eight months. But honestly, I think the key factor was dream journaling. If you ask me, that's the most important thing you can do when chasing a lucid dream. This and reality checks."

"...Aaand?"

"And what?"

"There were three questions. You answered only two."

I was hoping she wouldn't notice, but I did make a point about paying attention.

"You did pay attention," I remarked smiling. "Good."

"Well...?" she held me to it.

I kept her gaze for a few moments.

"I started doing it looking for... insight. Just like you, everyone has things in their lives that seem to be... not necessarily wrong, but... enhanceable. I'm looking for... explanations. Just like you."

She was looking incredulously and questioningly at me. After the encounter in the park and probably finishing LaBerge's book she was aware of the... escapism potential of these practices. "Fine!...the other thing, too."

The smile on her face said to me "now... we're even".

"And how is it? Is it really like... the real thing? Or even better?" she continued with excitement.

"I wouldn't know. That level of skill probably requires more time and focus than I was able to put into it so far. I have yet to experience it."

She seemed somewhat disappointed. After a few seconds she resumed.

"Ok. So... where were we?... Ah. Right. What do you put in a dream journal? Can you give me an example? Liiike... about what you were dreaming when I found you dozing off. It seemed quite... intense. What would you put for something like that in a dream journal?"

That... came completely unexpected. The hit I took was probably obvious. The irony of the situation was too funny for me. I felt guilty and I had no idea how to hide it.

"I... can't tell you" I said, avoiding her eyes and started pouring us some water.

"Oh... okay..." she said with obvious disappointment, "I thought this should be easy, being fresh in your mind I figured-... Hold on." she stopped abruptly. She got me in her crosshair. "You can't... tell me?...Or you can't tell... ME?"

Direct hit. This ship... was sinking. I took a sip from my glass. All the while she was zeroing on me.

"What have you got there?" I reached for the bag, opened it and started taking out some goodies to put on the plates. "Do you want some?" I tried to divert her aim from me to food and I looked at her gesturing with the bag. But it was inescapable. "Please, stop looking at me like that" I pleaded with obvious guilt.

"'Real torture'? Isn't that how you said it?

Oh... fuck. Yep. I did. No way around it. What the hell do you say to that?

"How was I... torturing you? Did I give you the impression that I'm that...heavy?" she pushed on. "What am I saying? Of course I did..." she added to herself, looking away thinking it had something to do with her weight problem.

"Please... don't..."

"Come on, tell me" she picked it up, "I'm interested to know how you...perceived me."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does!"

"Why?"

"Because you were nice to me. I don't want to... be... a nuisance."

"Then you can rest assured that it was not a nightmare."

"Then why were you-...? Hold on..."

HMS Avoidance... was down. I looked upwards and around.

"You were f-...?"

"No!" I cut her short.

She pointed a long index nail at me.

"There, you're doing it again. So that's why you snapped at me earlier. Isn't it?"

I raised both hands in surrender and looked down.

"...guilty." I confessed.

"What happened? Did I... interrupt... something?"

"It didn't get that far!" I protested.

She fell silent for a moment.

"I'm not exactly sure how I should feel right now. On one hand I feel like I was... erm... used, you know? Ripped off. Like I... did something for you and... what did I get in return, hmm? On the other hand... I feel like... there may actually be something about me that can make me... well... not so... undesirable."

"Helen... Look. I did not-... It's not like I asked for it! And it wasn't even sex! Not in the sense that everyone thinks about it, anyway. It was... well... sex-y. I told you I am biased when it comes to nails. That's about all it was. Your nails popped up in my dream. If you find this offensive or... how did you say it... unwanted, then... that's that, there's nothing I can do about it. That's all it was. Your nails in my dream."

A few moments of silence gave us time to digest the debate.

"Just... my nails? Not the rest of me?"

"Yes, of course you were... there. In the dream."

"...Aaand?"

"What? You want me to tell you my dream?

"Yes. I want to know the whole story."

"I... can't... do... that! This is ridiculous!"

"Come on, what can there possibly be left to tell from your dream that will make it so much more embarrassing than it already is? Huh?"

There was some truth to her words. Her eyes were drilling into mine each time I tried to keep her gaze.

I got up, went to the desk, got a pencil and a notebook and started scribbling.

*After-work nap, dozed off at desk.

Helen is showing her nails to me, posing them / Feels like she wants me to look at them, to... 'offer' them to me, to lure me with her nails / I can't resist / I touch her nails top and under / I feel their length / They're so long and flexible and so... 'grown' / Feeling of guilt / I ask her to grow them even longer, she accepts / She raises a hand and gently wiggles her fingers / Her nails start to slowly grow with each wiggle / It's so arousing and... 'stimulating', I can't look away, I have to keep looking at them / Somehow I... 'feel' them growing, the sensation is so... 'rewarding' / Her nails are so long and curved now, they tremble along their length with each wiggle / It's so... 'intense', it's... 'too much', I can't take it / I wake up.

I ripped the page and handed it to her. "The words in quotes are the closest I could find to express how it really felt. When you'll do this yourself, you'll understand what I mean." She reached and took it with a long nailed hand and started reading. I sat back down at the coffee table and finished drinking the water in my glass. I couldn't eat, I was waiting for her to finish, it was obvious that she was reading it over and over. When she had enough she looked down.

"Where the hell have you been, Theo?" she finally spoke in a low voice. There was something in her tone that felt like despair and relief at the same time.

"I'm sorry... I... don't understand" I answered.

She got her phone from one of her pockets and started looking for something. When she found what she was looking for, she handed it to me. I looked at it. My hands immediately started shaking and I felt my heart pounding. I had to do a reality check. It was a selfie of herself minus at least 40 pounds, resting her chin on her left hand. A bit of makeup, radiant smile. But the most attention grabbing thing in the photo was her fingernails.

"Oh my God... When was this?"

She sighed deeply.

"Five years ago. I was 29. And my nails had just turned eight. Swipe if you want to see more."

I did. Clear polished, curved and twisted in wide curls, a showcase of superlative eight-year natural nail growth.

"What happened?"

"I had to make a choice. And I... did the 'decent' thing as people seemed to describe it, I gave them up. And ever since then... things have gone from bad to worse for me."

Silence.

"So. Where the hell were you...then?"

"Helen... I can understand what you mean but... you can't seriously blame me for... the way things turned out for you."

"No, of course not, but... I can't help but wonder how things would have turned out if I had someone like you by my side... then."

She looked at her nails and caressed them. My pants were getting uncomfortable.

"Help me become her again" she raised her eyes at me. "I promise I will let them grow," she added, displaying and posing her nails to me, subtly wiggling her fingers.

This was... unreal. The similarity to what I had just put on paper was undeniable. I was trying to decide if this was real or not. Poking fingers through my palm, pinching myself, everything. I was looking for some... crack in the fabric of reality to confirm my assertion. This had to be a dream, reality could never be this... brutally stimulating. My mind stopped working, the sensory overload and the replaying of what seemed to me the same scene were too much to process.

"Uh... excuse me, I'll... just..." I started to get up with the clear intent to go to the bathroom and ...'find relief'. And decisively and finally wake up.

"Are you OK?" she asked while I tried to get up.

"Just... give me... a minute. I... need... to... uh..." I was in a trance. There was a unique and all-important purpose in my existence at that moment, to get relief at any cost, but before I could get all the way standing up I fell back down. I was so dizzy and shaky. She hurried to catch me before I fell to the floor. She helped me to the sofa and supported my back against the cushions.

"Is this... real? Or... is this... a dream?...Tell me." I demanded breathing heavily.

"Theo?... What's wrong?"

"Tell me!"

She was looking at me, freaked out. Eventually she answered.

"You're dreaming," she said calmly and a smile crept up on her face.

"Thank God!" I said back, still breathing heavily "I need... relief... I need... to come... your... nails... turn... me... on... so... bad."

"OK..." She got down on her knees in between my legs and started to unbutton my jeans. At this point I couldn't do anything but follow her lead. She eventually and with some difficulty undid my jeans, while I was moaning louder and louder, watching her maneuver her immaculate nails. She took out my dick just in time for it to shoot all over her hands and nails everything my prostate had produced for the past week. I couldn't help but watch how she tried to block and catch each jet with her palms so as to not let it get on her sweater. She got most of it in her hands and under her nails, but neither her sweater nor the sofa completely escaped the eruption.

After I was done and stopped moaning, she got up and went away. I closed my eyes and I heard the sound of running water for a few seconds. When she came back she was rubbing her sweater with a napkin. A minute later I started to regain my self-control. She got to the desk, got another clean napkin and bowed down in between my legs, starting to rub with it on the sofa where the fresh stains were.

"Why am I not waking up?..." With horror I began to realize that what just happened might in fact not be a dream.

She raised her head and looked at me. Embarrassed smile on her face.

"You should... umm... close up" she gestured with her chin to my crotch.

"Oh, no" I whispered to myself as I looked down and found that things were just as they were a minute ago and did not change in any way.

Fuuuck!... Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck!... was all that occupied my mind as I precipitately got myself back in order. To call this 'embarrassing' was not even remotely close to how I felt about the situation. First the dream and now... this. I felt like I should run away and hide.

"Helen... I... this..." I started muttering.

There's no way... NO WAY... this can ever be mended was all I could think.

"Helen, I... have... no words to express how... terribly... terribly sorry I am! I can't even begin to hope that you will ever be able to forgive me" I finally managed to say something coherent.

She threw me a short and expressionless glance and kept cleaning the sofa. A few seconds later she stopped and disappeared to dispose of the napkins. When she got back she sat down on the other side of the sofa and was trying to catch my eyes. I couldn't look at her.

"Are you OK?" she said eventually. I couldn't make anything from the tone of her voice. It was just as blank as the expression on her face.

"Am I... OK?... No! I am so far from being OK and I would gladly spend the rest of my life there praying that I will someday, somehow be able to make it up to you. I don't want to be OK! I feel too... ashamed to ask if you are OK."

"Why shouldn't I be? My nails suffered no... damage. As far as I am concerned nothing that has happened here and now has gone against the... details of our deal."

"Nothing... unwanted?"

"Not on my part, no. Yours?"

I started again to feel unsure if what was happening was real.

"You're not... offended? Didn't... anything that I've done... hurt your feelings?"

"My feelings... are kind of mixed right now and I don't want to regret later having acted on impulse. So I'm giving you... and me, the benefit of thinking it over.

The feeling of uncertainty about the reality of what was happening was not going away.

"This... can't be real..." I whispered.

"I... could... tell you that you're dreaming again. But I don't want to make you feel even worse."

"So why did you do it then? Why did you tell me that it was a dream?"