The Shared Dream Ch. 07: Dan

There's a common theme with everyone else in this situation with me. Whenever anyone else found anything remotely cool, they used it in the stupidest possible way. I know you heard Juliet's testimony. What the hell was that? She couldn't figure out how to stop her thoughts from instantly becoming reality so she had to create two separate planes of thought, using the machine's power to supplement her own and make tracking both of them super easy? And she just used it so she could think?

I'm gonna say it again. That is so stupid. Did she honestly not realize what she'd discovered? We could literally HAVE IT ALL in here. I could keep being a playboy, living out my wildest dreams, while at the same time keeping tabs on that pesky intruder who's trying to fuck me over.

Yeah, yeah, I know. No point trying to bury the lede. Kyra already told you some idiot dropped down from the sky with the sole intent of trying to fuck me over. So I took care of him. And I kept taking care of him, every moment of every day I kept an eye on him, always watching him, always making sure he was buried away from the world.

So I had the boring version of myself, who was, at best, running ten percent of my focus. I sat there, I built walls as fast as he could tear them down, inventing traps for him to fight with. That was my most important self, but far and away my most boring.

Then there was the family man, the version of myself I was always saw myself being. I had a housewife who loved and adored me, and tended to my every need. We were settled down, and happy, but I had unlimited power, and that wasn't enough.

Do you have any idea how satisfying it is to look at your wife, stare into her eyes and tell her you love her while you're balls deep in some college slut, standing in the middle of an orgy? To cuddle up with her, spooning her, completely comfortable in her arms while I take every drug known to man? As I tattoo the girl I'm fucking? Take a line off her ass?

The word powerful can't even begin to describe it.

I know there aren't words to describe it, because I couldn't when our little intruder asked me about it.

"Let me go," he said. It was more of a demand, but he didn't have much power did he?

I didn't even get up out of my seat. That's how little that idiot meant to me.

"Why are you doing this?" he begged. His hands slammed against the door, the concrete still growing, his voice hollow and a thousand yards away from me.

I think he was crying like a little bitch. Like I said, that version of me had, at best, ten percent of my focus.

I thought about lying. Maybe I could score some sympathy if I told him it was revenge. I'd been trapped down here for decades, so now it was his turn, but I knew that'd just make him annoying. You want to get out? He'd ask, I'm trying to help you! Let me go!

Sympathy might help when I'm done, but I don't plan on giving up power any time soon. Who gives a fuck if they're mad at me? I've got, what, two months to live in the real world?

Like my mom always said, honesty's the best policy. So I told him. I walked up to him, taking my time and smirking, leaning in close and locking eyes with those wet beady eyes of his.

"I'm a fucking god," I said, "And as long as I'm here, I'm fucking immortal. You know what letting you go means? It's suicide. I'd be killing myself. So as long as I can take things, you're my bitch."

I saw him cry. I recognized that look in his eyes, the knowledge that years had passed in here and there'd only been seconds in the real world. That was a man who started to grasp just how long eternity could last.

"If you were in my shoes, what would you do? Honestly?" I asked one day.

He tried not to look up, but I'm a god. I shot out tendrils that wrenched his arms out like he were on a crucifix. It shot him towards the window and pressed his face against the bullet-proof glass.

"I asked you a question Todd."

Note, I don't know if his name was Todd.

"What would you do, if you were in my shoes?"

He shook his head slowly, his stupid cheeks rubbing against the glass, "I wouldn't be in your shoes. It's not just yourself. It's not just me, it's every other person you're holding hostage. You're taking all these people's lives away, you're-"

I couldn't stop the laughter.

"Taking their lives away?" I wheezed, "I'm making them last as long as possible! They're all gods too, every single one of them."

I took a ploying step forward and leaned against the glass. "You can say that shit all you want," I muttered, "But tell me, what do you got waiting for you out there? A wife? A family?"

He didn't answer, and I knew I'd struck a chord.

"In here's the only chance of that I got," I said.

"We could make a deal," he stammered, "Let you live here, as long as you want, just let everyone else go."

"And you have the power to do that, do you?"

"My bosses are reasonable, they'll sympathize with you, they'll make sure you're-"

"Just say no," I said, "You don't have any power. You said it yourself, we've only been in here seconds. What's your boss gonna think? You disappeared for a few seconds and suddenly you want him to sign off on leaving all this running for countless years for free? How much would that cost him."

"What does cost matter?" he wheezed, still fighting off the tendrils, "We're talking about human life."

"I've met some businessmen," I scoffed, "Cost matters a hell of a lot to them. You talk about human life like there's some sanctity, like my insurers wouldn't pay for treatment, or preventative care, or cancer screens."

I know this was all just an elaborate dream, but I'd worked myself up, and out of breath, just like if I were in the real world, hooked up to all that stupid life support.

"I will make them understand," he promised. For all I knew this guy was an unpaid intern they sent in here as a canary.

I took a long, slow breath and leaned in to look at him, face to face.

"I'm not doing this to be cruel," I said slowly, "I've giving you this life too. Whatever you want in there, it's yours. You can live a thousand lives."

It was his turn to laugh, "Not doing this to be cruel?"

If anyone thinks I'm cruel, just know this. I have my reasons. Life did it's best to fuck me.

"I mean it," I said again, "Anything you want. You want a woman? A harem? A house? What do you want man?"

His voice was soft, "You know what I want."

"Let's pretend murdering me is off the table," I said, "What's option number two?"

I didn't need the tendrils to hold him in place anymore. I had the man's attention.

"I do sympathize with you," he said, "I really do. It's a shitty spot, and I get how hard it would be to walk away from all this. But I'm asking you to sympathize too. With all of us."

My conversation with Todd was, clearly, getting nowhere. See what I mean? I tell him he'd literally be murdering me, and he'd just say, what about us? Our feewings are getting hurt.

So I threw him an olive branch. A couple women (I'd let him pick, hell, pick all, they're fake, right?). I gave him a nice cushy house. It had a pool, a movie theater, everything. It was a fucking mansion.

If Todd-boy could honestly complain about any of this, then I don't know what to tell you. I gave him the American dream, no work needed on his part. So what if he was still, technically, trapped? He had everything he could possibly want.

While that version of me worked to make Todd a little less miserable, the other two versions were focused on MY happiness.

I married the ultimate girl next door, the beautiful twenty-four year old Maggie Godlin. She had wispy brown hair, always loose and frizzy, almond eyes that were a perfect chocolate color. She had a cute little retrousse nose, her face always so full of life, even without makeup. She was always more comfortable in her sweats, just happy to be at home, spending the day with me.

And in that version of life, there was absolutely nothing wrong.

I liked to pretend I was just getting home from work (yes pretend. Why the fuck would I actually work when I'm a living god?).

I'd walk through the front door and she'd throw her arms around me, so excited by the sheer fact that I'd made it home. She always had dinner ready, always something new, surprising and delicious. She kept the house immaculate. In short, she was the perfect fantasy for what married life was supposed to be.

We liked to eat side by side, her side eying me between bites, trying to keep herself from grinning. I'd throw her a bone, reach out and wrap my arms around her shoulders. It didn't matter what we were doing, watching TV, playing video games, she always liked to be held, and I squeezed her like a pillow.

We'd be laying there, side by side, and I'd let my mind wander. While she basked in the boring parts of being married, my mind went on autopilot, just engaged enough to feel the power and raw joy of being the perfect loving husband while I cheated on her.

It's not that sex with Maggie wasn't great, it was. She was designed to be the absolutely perfect woman, and that included her body.

But I was a god. If I'm being honest with myself, Maggie was just another toy.

Maybe I didn't feel guilt because she wasn't real. Or maybe, and don't even think about lying to me, I did what anyone would do, and take whatever the hell I wanted. I could fill my cravings as easily as someone at a buffet. In the mood for sushi? Well, I'm in the mood for a hot Japanese woman to bounce on my dick while her boyfriend watches in tears.

And normally, I'm in the mood to feel my throbbing cock up against Maggie's thigh as she hugs me, so trusting and loving, as some other part of my brain is banging that Japanese woman. I was living the best of all worlds, and if any goddamn one of you try to tell me you'd do the noble think and let this end so you could martyr yourself, you're a goddamn liar.

I know this trial and investigation has been painting me like the villain, but I was the only one with a rational bone in my body.

"You do that a lot," Maggie said. Her arms were around my neck, her eyes peering up at mine, "Just kind of lose focus, like you're deep in thought."

I gave that version of my self a little more attention. I was only half focused on keeping my hands on another girl's tits, watching the way she rode me.

"Whatcha thinking about?" she nudged, her head rested against my chest.

Fucking a Japanese broad, making her boyfriend cry, and GOD DAMNIT SHE LOVES IT.

"That things are finally perfect," I said like a pussy. The real answer would have just made her angry and then I would have had to rewind and say the pussy answer anyway.

"All my life, this is all I've ever wanted. A nice house, a good job- comfort," I said, "That was enough for everything to be perfect, but then you came along, and suddenly, my life was better than anything I could have imagined."

I guess that lie was worth seeing the pure joy, the way her heart seemed to swell with love, but having experienced both types of living, I can't possibly imagine choosing to live like that, to jump through paltry hoops just to get her to suck your dick.

There's a reason old married couples turn their nose and make fun of meaningless sex, talk about it like it's a stupid phase they've evolved past. They have to think that. If they let themselves imagine that life was somehow as valid as theirs, it'd mean admitting their entire life was a big fucking mistake. They have to convince themselves that a lifetime of monogamy gives their lives some deeper meaning, but you know the shit they always say? I know what her breath smells like in the morning, stupid shit like that.

That's a negative thing.

You know what most marriages are? Two miserable people who learned how to tiptoe around each other to try to keep from fighting, and keep from admitting that living with another person is a fate worse than death.

I am the only one that can prove that, having simultaneously lived the party boy life and the boring dream that everyone's supposed to have.

So while I went through the boring silences with Maggie, and yes, that's what most of marriage is, being silent, but near each other, I lived out my wildest dreams.

She liked to act like sex was a reward. Like I were a dog that had somehow been good enough to get a little treat. Oh did I say the right things? Remember to rinse off the dishes? I'm such a good boy.

And that night was as predictable as ever. I'd been affectionate, told her how important she was, cleaned up the dishes, and suddenly she wanted me.

The American dream ladies and gentlemen.

She started to undress. She didn't have any lingerie or anything, didn't even put her hair up. That's what marriage is. Not making an effort.

I kept my focus on a fantasy that was actually hot. I couldn't stay engaged with the sex if that boring monotonous missionary was all I was gonna get, not when I have the power of a god at my fingertips.

There had to be something salacious to keep me focused.

Maggie pulled her shirt over her head, slowly jiggling her tits like they were some huge prize and not a dime a dozen.

Look at her, I thought, So infatuated, so trusting. It's pathetic.

My other self knocked on a door. If I was gonna get hard, this had to happen.

Maggie was starting to shimmy out of her pants just as the door swung open, and I was face to face with Maggie's mom.

"Maggie's sister, Lia, she's here isn't she?"

The world bent to my every whim.

"Of course."

Lia poked her head around the door, Maggie two years younger.

"And you aren't gonna remember any of this, are you?" I asked.

They shook their head in unison.

"And that's a real shame," I said, "Because you're both gonna have the time of your fucking lives."

Maggie leaned forward and started sucking my cock. It was the easiest erection of my life knowing another version of me was standing less than a block away, watching her fully nude mother and sister mirror her motions, walking towards me.

While both Maggie and Lia were natural, perfect beauties, their mother had tried to stave off time. More than a decade ago, her tits went under the knife and swelled up. She died her hair blond, determined to stay young, and injected more botox than a cyclist uses steroids.

Maggie tried to talk, something about how I'm the perfect husband, but her mouth was too full to make sense.

My focus was on her family, specifically her mom.

"You got a lot of experience, don't you?"

She kept inching towards me.

"I bet you fuck like a goddamn pornstar."

She nodded.

"Prove it you fucking slut."

I lay back on the california king, my legs spread and ready.

"And Lia," I said, "I want that pussy riding my face."

Her body was so young and taut. I could see her abs when her torso flexed, her small tits bouncing and popping right back like slinkies. I let her mom get to work on my cock, as my eyes went wide, watching the frantic way Lia grinded on my face, her muscles flexing so perfectly.

Maggie liked being choked, and I liked the control.

In my boring married life, I was towering over my wife. My hands were outstretched, locked around her neck, as her eyes were wide, her lips stammering.

My cock was as hard as granite. I thrusted as fast as I could, trying my best to wreck that pussy as my fingers curled, tighter and tighter.

"You're a god," Lia muttered.

Her mother's hips were swaying, working their way into my pelvis.

The lights were flickering around me. My sheer energy was enough to shred between the realities, swapping places. I saw Maggie's face on her mom's body, the three of them, their heads stuck together as they tried to suck my cock.

The walls were crumbling from the force.

Maggie's legs were trembling, her toes curling as her feet bent back. I was locking eyes with all three of them, an omniscient being, the world bent around me to satisfy me.

I shoved my fingers up, tracing Lia's abs down her pelvis. She bent forward, shaking as she kept trying to ride. My hips were thrusting opposite, in Maggie, out of her mom.

An archaic wind was blowing through my fantasies, whirling all three women's hair in a passionate vortex.

"I love you," I told Maggie. My fingers curled tighter and she started to blink, fighting off the dark hood.

She could barely wheeze out a response, her voice strained and weak, "I love you too."

I slapped Lia across the cheek as hard as I could, the movement sudden.

"HARDER!" she screamed, her cheeks already red.

Her mom started grinding faster as I tugged her hair, pulling her face closer to mine. I planted a messy kiss on her lips, full of drool and spit. She was panting, struggling for breath, and I hit her again.

She moaned, a shutter running down her hips.

"What would Maggie think?" I asked.

Lia leaned forward, still panting, still recovering. Her lips found my ear, and gave it a playful nibble, "I don't give a fuck what Maggie would think."

My messy kiss turned passionate. I sat up and grabbed her by the cheeks, locking her head in place. I shot my lips forward and kissed her like we'd just gotten married.

I shoved her back, slipping out of her mom, and shifting towards her. I pinned her shoulders back towards the bed, and towered over her. I gave her mom a quick glance, watching as the woman fingered her pussy.

"Sit on her face," I said. A command.

Maggie was starting to squirm, her eyelids fluttering shut. Her legs were trembling, waves of ecstasy trickling down her abdomen.

I came across her stomach, just as I entered her sister.

"You're amazing," she whispered, her voice tired and soft.

I shot my finger into her mother's asshole. She was grinding on top of Lia's face, my hand thrusting an opposite rhythm.

"Tell me," I said, locking eyes with Lia, my hand working furiously, "I'm the best you ever had."

Her lips poked out from under the pussy. "You're the best I ever had."

Like a good little subject.

"And?" I asked.

Her tongue shot out, licking that milf pussy once before responding, "And Maggie doesn't deserve you," she moaned, "The world doesn't deserve you."

Maggie was snuggling up next to me. She buried her face against my shoulder, her eyes shut as she caught her breath. I felt her naked torso against my side, her steady breathing as she felt truly safe, completely trusting in my arms.

I fingerblasted her mom as hard as I could. My free hand wrapped around Lia's shoulder, locking her in place. I watched the way her tiny tits shuttered with every thrust, her chin bobbing with every gasp.

"Tell me what you'd do for me," I muttered, my eyes unblinking as I lorded over them.

"Anything," the mom said.

"More," I commanded, pressing deeper into Lia's shoulder.

"I'd leave my husband," the mom pleaded.

"I'd fuck you in front of my sister," Lia begged, "I'd laugh at her, just so you could fuck me."

I watched them both squirm. I was transfixed, watching the way Lia's muscles rippled under her skin, always on the brink of an orgasm.

I could have kept going forever.

I'm a god.

I could have let myself orgasm nonstop, a neverending cascade of cum launching from my penis like a rocket.

I could have cum a literal rocket.

I was a god, and I could do whatever I wanted.

I wrapped my arms around Maggie's shoulder, and leaned my head to rest against hers. I was starting to smirk, smiling off in the distance as she cuddled up against me, so naively trusting.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I thrust as deep as I could, filling Lia so deep the cum would never cum back out. I stood quickly, slowly jerking myself off as I looked towards the mom.

"Lay down," I said, panting, "I've got some for you too."