Arron's dreams start to change...

Arron felt herself in conflict as sleep came but in fits and spurts.

The **** had long-since worn off and there should not have been as much a problem of sleeping but as she laid there, tossing and turning, she felt more than just the straps of the one-piece digging into her shoulders. She was not a vivid dreamer by any means but recently, since the past year at least, her dreams had taken more of a turn from the normal to the abnormal. Gone were the nights where she would put her head on the pillow and wake up barely remembering anything of import or of note-worthy distinction that would cause her to think about it.

No, even in dreams where she was having sex with luxuriously apportioned women with compromised morals...hell, if she had tits as big as watermelons and a penchant for deep-throating him while jamming a finger or three up his ass to fondle his prostate, causing him to pump load after on-fire load into her hot wet mouth, that was enough to do it for him. He would wake up not only soaked completely from having cum as a result from his dream, he was still so rock hard that any movement other than to grab and stroke himself until reaching another orgasm was all but futile. There were many times he had to finish it, had to cum, and he would stroke furiously and strenuously until it happened. Arron would then collapse tired and worn out back on the bed and the end result, of course, was that he had to throw away the ruined and soiled boxers. It was a vicious cycle.

He wasn't exactly sure when he started to have dreams where he was a woman but it was still somewhat benign, always viewing himself as a sort of passe observer and interactions were never steamy or driven to the point of masturbatory necessity. He loved that, by the way, "masturbatory necessity"...cute phrase coined by his doctor when he had embarrassingly disclosed that during a therapy session. Arron, even when his first dreams of being a woman, was not too disturbed when his dreams began to involve him living and doing things as a woman because, once again, they weren't really anything of note to remember. He never found himself waking up in a panic or confusion, just a novel feeling and simply dismissed as the days went on.

That was then, though...

The first few nights as Erin taught Arron the value of remembering dreams as best as he could, especially with the memories of living as a woman during the day began to bleed into his dreams at night. The feel of the silken lingerie he had taken to wearing only helped to emphasize the difference in how he was going to live and, more importantly, how his body reacted to nighttime dreams. Sarah had mockingly suggested he switch to something softer and more gentle on his skin than the course 150 thread counts found in the discount aisle at Walmart so, a few weeks ago, he had bought a 900 thread-count set made of imported silk from one of the upscale bedding places and the instant change in how it felt on his skin was remarkable. The sense of luxury and comfort, how it wrapped him warmly yet allowed him mobility and the replacement of rough coarse fabrics with precision-crafted blankets and sheets. Maybe that was what caused him to suddenly start having more and more memorable dreams?