Beautiful Dreamer

Jon's sleep was a dream-filled wonder. In the real world, his body, clad in his new black nightie, was still as could be, but in the dream world, he was anything but. He found himself in a world where his deepest desires and wildest imagination could roam free. Dreams have their own logic, and Jon's were no exception. From scene to scene, he would flit, from adventure to adventure, with no challenge from the sleeping man. The spirit that hovered over him was like a playful child, gently prodding Jon's subconscious mind and guiding him through a world of pure imagination.

As Jon stood over the grate, holding his white dress from blowing over his head, he felt a sense of exhilaration. The wind blowing through his blonde hair gave him a feeling of freedom and liberation that he had never experienced in his waking life. He wondered how manly he looked with his breasts barely contained, but he quickly brushed the thought aside, not caring that a crowd had formed behind him to inspect his pantie-clad behind. He struck a hero pose, feeling like a fearless champion who was ready to take on anything that came his way.

In the next moment, Jon found himself sitting in an older man's lap. He was dressed in a short skirt, tight blouse, and pigtails, and he was sucking on a lollipop. He felt safe and loved in the man's arms, glad that he had found himself in a healthy father-son relationship. Most men grew up without a patron to be their role-model, their mentor. But here, in this dream world, Jon had found the love and guidance that he had always craved.

"I wuv you so much, Daddy," Jon said, grinding his behind into the man's lap, reveling in the feeling of safety and affection. The man's hands reached around to grab Jon's breasts, and he could feel the coffee on his breath. But it didn't matter. In this world, nothing could harm him, and he was free to express himself in any way that he wanted.

"Ooh!" Jon squealed, "So much that wittle old me doesn't have words for it! Maybe I can just show you!" Jon was so glad to have the chance to show his gratitude and affection for the relationship he found himself in. He flipped around so that he was facing the man, wrapped his legs around him, and pulled his face into Jon's deep cleavage. Nothing like a good hug to show someone that you cared. The man laughed and played along, happy to indulge Jon's every whim.

A moment later, Jon was standing over a man in a hospital bed. The short white nurse's uniform Jon had on was tight in all the right place, showing that Jon was professional, while at the same time approachable. A perfect health-care practitioner. His high heels gave him enough height to be able to see the patient on the raised bed, while his stockings gave him enough skin coverage to show that he meant business.

"Time for your sponge bath, Mr. Wigglesworth," Jon said, pulling the covers back from his patient. Charles Wigglesworth had been a patient for some time, having been admitted after a strange growth had been found in his groin area. Jon was fascinated with the case, and had made sure to attend Mr. Wigglesworth's bed as much as possible, even putting in extra time to ensure that he got the best healthcare in the world.

With a frown on Jon's puffy lips, he noted that the growth had returned. The day before, Jon had applied a special treatment that seemed to work, but he needed to do it again to be sure. He'd donned a pair of gloves and began to carefully apply pressure to the growth, coaxing it to release its contents. Suddenly, it had erupted, spewing a hot, sticky substance all over Jon's face and breasts, but he didn't flinch. He was determined to get to the root of the problem.

"Well, looks like we've got some work to do!" Jon said, smiling a smile of encouragement to the poor man, while climbing onto the bed with him, straddling his body. Yes, Jon might get messy replicating the treatment, but it was his calling in life. It was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it.

The spirit disengaged from Jon's mind. The last dream had been entirely of Jon's design, so it was confident that his victim was on autopilot. It was time to begin to have some fun in the real world.

Reaching out with its power, the spirit began to caress Jon's body. This process had to happen slowly. If it moved with too much speed, the pain would be substantial, and any progress the spirit made would be lost. It would begin small, subtly. Through the black nightie Jon was wearing, the spirit could see his skin form goosebumps. They seemed to ripple up and down the young man's body. Soon, hair that grew in all the places it should for a man, began to slip out of Jon's follicles. His legs, his groin, his chest, his armpits, after a few moments were bald.

Pleased with the change, the spirit reminded itself that hair was easy. The rest of the transformations would take more effort.