On a midsummer night

“D-do you really think he’s your father?” It took all of Jesse’s courage to ask… but he just had to know the answer. It shaped so much of who Suzy seemed to be, and he needed to know so much more about who this sweet boy who had taken his virginity really was. He had followed the other sissy’s roll and rested his soft cheek against a shoulder, trapping his friend and new lover between an embrace and that question.

It was clearly a step too far. Suzy tensed up in discomfort… But then, after a second, answered anyway. Leftover guilt from the turmoil he had put Jesse through, and the precious thing he had claimed from his fellow femboy afterward… almost equal to this burglary of his deepest insecurities. In a quietly, trembling whisper he admitted:

“No… I mean… I-I don’t know… Maybe he is?!”

The sissy sighed, heavily. As if this was perhaps the first time he admitted, even to himself… that there was anything less than a certainty.

“It doesn’t matter… either way.” He looked down into Jesse’s eyes with his own welling up a little. “We’re just dreams… after all.”

“Dreams?” Offered Jesse, hating himself for every push he was making.

“Yes… Dreams of ourselves. Other people’s dreams about us. That’s what Dr Pietre told me, the first time I met him… And it’s true! All of us are just characters in each other’s dreams, really. Everything we are, is shaped by what we imagine we should be… and what everyone else hoped we might be. Even long before we were born… somebody was dreaming up a day where we might lie like this, together. The algorithm just picked up on that… and made it real. That’s what it does. So one day… anything you dream now. Anything you really, genuinely want with all your heart… will happen to someone…”

The femboy sat up a little, letting Jesse’s head slide into his bosom. Looking out at the perfectly simulated moonlight drifting sleepily in through the open window. The gentle heat of a slow, midsummer night.

“So it doesn’t matter where our genetics came from… because our real parents are the ones who dreamed us into being. Daddy needs me… after what happened with his first wife and children. So I try to be as perfect as I can for him. That’s all that matters…”

Jesse found his eyelids drooping. His hair and ears being gently tousled by an absent-minded hand. Suddenly a whole new ocean of depth seemed to come into view within his friend. Layers he hadn’t even guessed at, in someone he already found infinite in fascination. Yet, he had stung that soul to find it… and needed to offer something in return.

“I… I don’t remember my first Home.” He said, something he had never admitted… even to Betsy. “I’m not sure I even had one…”

Suzy glanced down at him, with an eyebrow raised. But the boy upon his breast was already asleep. Now leaving the blonde slutwife-to-be alone with his thoughts, wondering what they all might mean.