Pervert Nostradamus

I know for a fact I have written something very much like this before, but I think it was lost in the great "Oh fuck, 400,000 words of crap got corrupted and I have no backup" fiasco of 2020. I decided to spit this out in its place. I have no idea which category this best fits, so it's going in humor. It has sort of a non-consent theme. Kind of. But not really. Just kind of.

**

"How long have you been having these dreams, Mr. Weller?"

"I don't think you understand, Miss Grimes. It's not just regular dreams, ya know? I mean, yes, it happens frequently when I sleep, but it's also daydreams. Or 'visions' if that's what you want to call them. It's been almost three months since they started."

Phillip Weller was 26 years old, just out of college and not in a relationship. Angela suspected his "visions" were simply the circumstances of a hormonally frustrated, young man. She wondered if he might be one of those incels she'd heard about, but Phillip seemed socially competent. A normal, somewhat attractive guy. "You say all of these dreams are violent in nature?"

Phillip hung his head in shame. He hated admitting his problem. "I don't understand why. I don't harbor any ill-will towards anyone, much less my friends. But yes. I force myself on them."

"And these are your friends you are seeing in these dreams?"

Phillip sighed. He doubted the therapist believed him, but why would he lie? "It's everyone, Miss Grimes. Absolutely everyone, so yes, my friends are included."

"You may call me Angela. What do you mean exactly? Everyone? How do these visions occur to you?"

"The visions are automatic. Like, they happen the instant I see a woman. Any woman, so like I said, including my friends. And the night dreams... they're more vivid than ever. I used to have regular sex dreams, but not like these."

"Describe one of these dreams to me."

Phillip dropped his head into his hands. 'Where to start?' he sniffled. "Yesterday, I was napping on the couch and I dreamt Candice - that's the neighbor down the hall on my floor -- I dreamt she came over to borrow some flour. Before she even got a word out, I was ripping off her clothes, tossing her around the apartment. Nothing could stop me from... from... well, you know... fucking her... in the ass." The last three words were barely audible, but Angela caught them. Phillip held back tears. He was shaking, visibly upset.

"What happened next?" Angela asked softly.

"What do you mean, 'What happened next?'" cried Phillip. "She came multiple times while I fucked her raw. At least, until the doorbell woke me up."

"I'm sorry? The doorbell?"

"It was Candice. When she actually showed up."

"I don't follow."

"I'm talking about my neighbor, Candice. She woke me up to borrow some flour."

"In your dream..."

"No, I mean for real. She woke me up while I was sleeping, while I had been having that dream about her."

"Does Candice often borrow flour?"

"No. This was a first."

"Wait, what?" Angela questioned. "You're saying this was a premonition?"

It finally registered with Phillip as to why Angela was confused. Things like this occurred so often, he'd practically normalized it. "Oh yeah, that happens sometimes. I dream something that will happen before it does. But I don't ever fucking force myself on anybody!! I'd never think of doing such a thing! This is how it went down: The doorbell woke me up, so I answered. It was Candice asking for the flour. I happily got her some. I certainly didn't force myself on her, or fuck her in the ass. She left and I haven't seen her since, not even in passing."

"So... in your dream you took advantage of her, but in real life you didn't?"

"Exactly. I'm not a fucking psychopath. That's why I want these visions to end!"

"We have a lot to unpack here, Phillip. First, you are telling me you can literally see into the future. Even change it, I guess. Or maybe it's more complicated than that, I don't know. I would like you to start recording episodes like this when they occur. Write them down, with details of when it happened, how vivid the dream was and who the subject was. Things like that. I'd like to see if there are any patterns. Especially if you have some kind of foresight into the future."

Phillip barely appeared to be listening, growing more anxious just thinking about the whole issue. He cried out, "I don't even like knowing what people look like naked; I sure as hell don't want to see into the future!"

Angela laughed. "Oh, come on, Phillip. You can't possibly know what people look like under their clothes. What's in your fantasies may not represent the real thing or-"

"Oh, it does. To the tee. It's how I know you have a butterfly tattoo on your left breast. I can't help it. I don't WANT to know that. I don't want any of this."

Angela was stunned. Other than her ex (and the tattoo artist who put it there), no one knew about that butterfly tattoo. And if what Phillip said was true, then he knew even more, like how her left breast was almost a cup size bigger than its sister. Angela nicknamed her breasts "The Fraternal Twins" a long time ago. She squirmed in her chair a bit as she processed this new information. "Okay, Phillip. JUST to be clear. You're suggesting you know what I look like naked. It's true, I have a tattoo, but -"

Phillip interrupted, answering flatly. "Miss Hastings, I had a vision of you when I first arrived. I can tell you haven't shaved in a couple days. I know every detail of your body."

Angela shot up out of her chair and began pacing back and forth behind her desk. "Phillip, I think maybe you need a neurologist, not a therapist. I mean, how could you? How you possibly know these things?!" Now it was Angela who sounded panicked.

"How do I know exactly what you look like naked? I keep telling you. I have very vivid dreams and I want them to stop."

"What did you dream about?"

"What do you mean?

"With me. What did you dream about?"

"I'm not telling you that."

"Phillip, I am your therapist."

"No way. You'll think I like having these visions. Well, I don't. I'm not saying anything."

"I am your therapist. You can trust me with this information."

Phillip sighed, turning away, mumbling. "Look, it would take way too long, anyway."

"Too long?"

Phillip shook his head in shame. Angela could clearly tell this issue caused great stress on him. Finally, he spoke, "Um, the time it takes me to have a vision... it might flash by in a fraction of a second, I suppose. But the vision might feel like minutes, or even hours. Like, I see every detail." Phillip dropped his head more, looking defeated. "Every bead of sweat. Every pore in their skin." He was tearing up again. "Every smell."

Angela was quiet for a moment as she evaluated the situation. Either Phillip's distress was authentic or he needed to get into acting. She spoke calmly, "Phillip, I imagine what you are experiencing might be frightening. You don't possibly want it to define you as a person." He began sobbing quietly. "It's okay, I told you. You can trust me. It's good you came for therapy."

"Do you mean it? Do I need to see a neurologist?"

"I think it might be a good idea, but I would like more details, Phillip. About your experience of the vision you had with me."

"I told you, already. I'm not comfortable sharing that with you."

"I understand why you would be, but give me an idea of it. This is important, Phillip. I'm curious, in your vision, did I fight back?"

"No, not even a little."

Angela nodded, but chuckled. "See, that's where you're wrong, Phillip. I would be the type who fights back. I even train for it, god forbid anything ever happen. I've taken two years of self-defence and continue to visit the gym twice a week just in case such a scenario ever presents itself."

"I can tell," whispered Phillip.

"I'm sorry?"

Phillip flicked at his hair and muttered, "Well, uh... when I, uh... had you bent over, pumping. I could feel how firm your ass and thighs were. You're very fit. I was just saying, I could tell you work out. It shows."

Phillip's admission caught Angela by surprise. "You mean, in your dream? You saw this? Even felt it?"

"Yes, exactly. When I was fucking you... in the ass..." Again, Phillip's voice trailed off.

Angela worked to settle this. "Like I said, Mr. Weller. It wouldn't be in my nature to allow anyone to have sex with me against my will. I like to think I would fight ba --"

"Oh, ma'am, I'm not saying it was against your will. It wasn't."

"Well, wait. But you were just saying you had a vision of-"

"That's the thing, ma'am. I do force myself on these women... but the sex acts are never 'against their will.' Like you, it's just not in my nature to do such a thing, not even in my dreams."

"You mean, in these fantasies you're having, these girls want you to take them? To have sex with them?"

"Uh... well, yeah, that's how it always plays out."

"I see." Angela nodded again, grinning. For some reason, this made the whole thing sound too far-fetched to be believed, in any capacity. It had to be a put-on. "Did Eric send you here? I... well, I just want to be sure this isn't a joke of some kind."

"Excuse me?"

"Eric, my ex. Did he tell you about my butterfly tattoo, and that I only shave on Monday and Friday mornings?"

"Do you actually think I would come to you and lie about this?"

"Phillip, what you are telling me is that you - somehow - can supernaturally see exactly how every woman looks like naked, while having visions where you impose yourself upon them. And what? Every time, these women actually WANT it to happen? Is that what you're saying? That's ridiculous! You almost had me believing your story, the way you described my body, among other details, but this is too much. You have to know. Women do NOT like being forced into sex."

"Of course I know that. It's why I would never do it. It's only in my dreams."

"And you insist that in these dreams - these visions - that ALL these women WANT you to take them."

"How many times must we go over this?" Phillip sighed.

"Fine, Mr. Weller. I insist you tell me exactly how you saw it play out with me specifically. Please. The whole shebang. From start to finish. Tell me, in your vision, how you forced yourself on me and how I didn't fight back. And how I supposedly enjoyed it. Is that right? I enjoyed it?"

"I would say so," said Phillip, still looking ever deflated. His therapist had suddenly turned on him, and he wasn't sure how comfortable he was sharing any more information. More silence enveloped the room.

"Come on, Phillip. Start at the beginning. What was I doing?"

"Fine. You were sitting in your chair. Just like you are now!"

"And what? You jumped over the desk and attacked me?"

"No. I just walked over. I... I..."

"Come on, tell me. Did you slap me? Hit me?"

"No, not at all. I grabbed your face with my left hand, I remember that. I squeezed your cheeks while I unzipped my pants with my other hand. I pulled my dick out and made you watch... you know, because I was holding your face. I just made you watch while I grew hard. And you know... well, you had the same reaction..." his voice trailed off.

"Excuse me?" Angela said. What Phillip described may have been highly inappropriate, but it sounded kind of hot. She wanted to hear the rest of this Penthouse letter scenario, yet she wasn't going to tell Phillip she was amused in any sensual way. She continued to press him. "What? I saw your penis and couldn't resist? Is that it? Then I attacked you?" Angela scoffed, laughing. "Pathetic."

"I wouldn't say that. You were stunned. Like you were questioning how you would fit it all in your mouth."

"I'm sorry. I was questioning what?"

Phillip shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just interpreting the expressions, ma'am. I don't actually know exactly what you were thinking. Besides, a few seconds later, my cock was fully stuffed down your throat."

"And I wasn't trying to bite or punch you?"

"Just trying not to gag, I think."

"You think?"

"That's right."

Angela felt like she had a right to be angry. What Phillip was describing was so unlike her character, it was downright insulting. "Phillip, I want to assure you, I would NOT behave that way. Never! I know it must feel very real to you in your dream, but what you say does not describe the nature of who I am." Phillip stood up while Angela kept speaking. "What I am saying is I concede that you are experiencing vivid dreams - explicit enough to warrant seeing a neurologist, as we discussed - " Phillip slowly made his way around her desk and stopped near her. Angela kept going, "- the acts... the action... it's all fantasy. Mustered in your head."

With no sudden or frightening movements, Phillip reached out with his left hand and firmly grabbed Angela's face, his thumb on her left cheek and his fingers the opposite. He squeezed, but not painfully, and pulled her head towards him. Phillip's grip was commanding, but not so forceful as to be threatening. He made Angela stare eye to eye while he leaned into her, slowly unzipping. Then he brought her head down, raising his hips to her as he pulled out his cock. At this angle, Angela had no choice but to see it up close. She found herself not crying out or fighting. She knew if she retracted or offered resistance, Phillip would let go of her. As firm as his grip might be, Angela could read his body language. He was allowing her the final say in what they do. Angela could stop it any time. Perhaps that's why she didn't move. Not one muscle. She wanted to see how far Phillip would take this ridiculous fantasy.

Then she saw it. Beautiful. About as perfect as a cock can be, but what made it special was it was already throbbing. Pulsing. Beating hard, with thick veins pumping blood rapidly through the long, glistening shaft. Angela never wanted to touch a cock so badly in her life. Phillip pulled her head back to his, staring her down again. She knew then she wasn't going to get to touch it. Not yet anyway. Phillip was going to make her suck it first. He was going to shove it down Angela's throat, just as he had described to her moments ago.

Angela had never been this wet in her life. Not naturally, not even with lubrication. If arousal could be measured or scored, she would be at 100 with extra bonus points. As if fate had it out for her, Angela found herself gagging on Phillips thick shaft seconds later, somehow getting even wetter. More turned on. She offered no resistance, taking it in, welcoming it.

At first, Phillip pumped slowly, with Angela barely moving. Just allowing it. Giving it a home. He moved his hands to the back of her head and picked up the pace and Angela began working to move with Phillip's motion. She felt his cock getting ever stiffer and thicker in her mouth. "Show me those beautiful tits," Phillip whispered.

While simultaneously getting her mouth fucked, Angela managed to wrangle out of her shirt and bra. At this point, she was sure Phillip had already "seen" her naked in his vision. And though she recognized the very actions she engaged in ran counter to the claims she had made only a moment ago, she didn't care. All she wanted right now was sexual gratification. She didn't stop at the shirt and bra. While working Phillip's beautiful cock, she got the rest off as well, leaving her only in heels.

Angela almost experienced an orgasm from the cock sucking alone. She was certainly edging, she was so horny. Finally, Phillip pulled out of her mouth and picked her up, turning her around and bending her over the desk. Angela briefly recalled Phillip mentioning that he had noticed how tight and firm her body was from this angle, when he was fucking her in the-

"AAAAaaahahahhh!" wailed Angela. Thankfully, Phillip's cock was wet all over and Angela was so horny, even her ass felt lubricated, but damn, that caught her by surprise. Anal sex wasn't really Angela's thing. Well, until now. For some reason, Phillip's thick meat touched every nerve in her cavity, causing waves of pleasure to wash through her body. Angela had never climaxed this way before. It was different than a regular orgasm in ways she could not articulate. She wanted more of them.

Phillip cut her short, yanking out and swinging her around, forcing her to her knees. Without being commanded, Angela opened wide and made eye contact again. She began nodding, begging for him to release his seed upon her. It didn't take long and Angela soon found herself wrapping her mouth around the head of his cock at the peak of his climax. Another first for what used to be a prudish woman.

By every measure, Angela should have been panicking that she had just had a sexual experience with a patient. She gave exactly zero fucks about that right now. All she wanted right now was another go.