It's a dream. Aaallll a dream.

Nnnope. This is not happening. Not real. My dick didn't get replaced with a seven inch girl with auburn hair, a light dusting of freckles on her cute button nose, the perkiest, fullest, albeit tiniest breasts I have ever seen, a trim tummy and... well, the swell of her hips disappears into my crotch, but I'm sure they would be spectacular. At least I'm dreaming up a major hottie. And she's still looking up at me with a playful smile.

I look up at the ceiling and grit my teeth. The first shock worn off, I realize I can feel her body as I did feel my cock - but just like I couldn't control my hardons, I can't control her movements. Aaand now she's poking the inside of my thigh.

"Hey! Seriously, don't ignore me!" She huffs, slapping my thigh twice. "That's really rude, y'know."

Not answering. I will not talk to someone who stole my dick and took its place, even if this is a dream.

"Hellooo, earth to Matthew! I'm talking to you!"

"How do you know my-- no, not going there. I'm not talking to a dream."

"Hmph," she pouts. "Does this feel like a dream to you?"

With that, she pinches my thigh. Hard. Even though she's that small, it hurts like the dickens.

"Ow! What did you do that for?!"

"To get your attention, dumbass." The teasing smile on her face takes the sting out of the insult. "And it worked, didn't it? You're talking to me now."

"And I'm stopping again right now. Not gonna talk to my dick, even if this is a dream."

"I'm telling you, it's not! And I'm not your dick, I'm a strong, not-so-independent woman!"

"Well, you sure as hell took its place, miss strong woman." She's starting to piss me off a little. "Where did you even come from, crotch girl?"

"Hey! No need for insults," she replies indignantly, crossing her arms under those perfect, tiny breasts. "I know as much as you, we woke up together and that's it."

"You're jutting from my crotch, and you don't have a name. That wasn't an insult, it was just facts."

"It still hurt my feelings!" The retort definitely sounds angry. Seems I'm getting to her. "And I so do have one! It's, uhm..."

"Well?"

Suddenly, her face lights up with a smile.

"Joy!" She beams up at me. So much for getting a little on the dick sized cock thief. "Call me Joy."

"Seriously? That's what you came up with?" The name is a little on the nose. "But okay, I'll humor you. It's just a dr--"

My second alarm goes off, the one that tells me 'get your ass in gear, slowpoke'. Great. Wasted enough time bickering with Joy that I'll have to go to class without breakfast. I really don't like this dream...

"Great. I need to get to class... With you betwen my legs? Good thing I'm dreaming."

"And I keep telling you you're not," Joy grins.

Groaning, I get up and start taking off my pajamas, trying not to jostle Joy around too much. I really don't want her pinching me again. She leans back against my stomach, trying her best to hold on. At least she's trying to help instead of just bobbing around. Why does she feel so much like morning wood would?

"Mmh, me likey," Joy comments when she sees my reflection in the mirror next to the bathroom door. Just what I needed. My cock is commenting on my physique. Granted, swimming keeps me in great shape, but damn, does it feel weird to have that complimented by the woman in my crotch. But getting dressed presents another problem.

"No way am I getting in there!" Joy is referring to my boxers she's pushing down with all her might, preventing me from pulling them up all the way. I could easily overpower her, but for some reason...

"What, do you expect me to go commando?"

"Yes? And you better wear clean pants!"

"I always wear... oh, screw it."

Pulling a new set of clothes out of the dresser, I put on fresh pants, Joy's head peeking out just over the waistband as her hands grip it tightly. With a slightly loose shirt on, she's hidden perfectly. More or less. Because Joy is lifting up the shirt and beams up at me.

"It's a bit tight around the chest, but we're good to go. C'mon, I wanna see what it's like out there!"

"Yeah, right. Dream or not, the shirt stays down. I don't want people to think I stuffed a doll down my pants."

"Spoilsport," Joy grumbles, but she lowers the shirt again.

Taking a deep breath, I grab my backpack, slip into my shoes and out of the door.