Oversleeping

She was falling. For how long, Meryl couldn't be sure, but that she was falling was undeniable. The air rushed past her as she went, pitching down into an endless blue sky. Goose flesh was rising all over her body, in large part because she was completely and utterly naked, the wind chill all but freezing her tits and arse. She opened her mouth to scream, but the air snatched her breath away before any sound could come forth. With no other recourse, she twisted her body around to see how far away the ground was, and with a jolt of surprise, saw that it was already rushing up to meet her. The strange thing was that the ground was unlike any, well, ground she'd ever seen. It was a tan sort of colour, and even from this height looked very bumpy and uneven. She braced herself for impact as it became more and more detailed in advance of her fall coming to an end, and then, as she went in for a 'landing' she felt the wind buffeting her in such a way that she was turned back around, her rear end facing the ground. Meryl tried to look over her shoulder, and caught a glimpse of the ground, up close now. It looked like...hot dogs? Thousands and thousands of hot dogs, piled up over one another, so numerous the actual ground beneath couldn't even be seen - if there was indeed anything underneath.

Meryl's expression changed to one of complete surprise, she tried to cover her bottom with her hands before impact, but it was as if fingers of streaming wind were actively pinning her hands at her sides. She whimpered quietly, not sure if the tears she was starting to feel in her eyes were because of the wind, or something else entirely. Slamming harshly into the ground, she let out an intense, echoing moan as she made contact with the sea of hot dogs. She could feel them sliding around her arse crack, all warm and slimy, some drifting up between her legs and rubbing right against her exposed vulva. Hot dogs on her chest, rolling over her creamy tits and down onto her navel, yet more on her face, one of them briefly slipping into her open mouth, filling it entirely, the salty aftertaste staying with her even after she spat it back out. Meryl tried to get up and out of the hot dog field, but she could find no purchase with which to do so, no solid ground or handholds to grab onto; the sudden movements shifted a bunch of the hot dogs aside, and she felt as if she'd been struck by lightning as one went straight up her back passage. No, this couldn't be right...she was a virgin, in every sense, she'd never let anyone put anything anywhere, least of all there! And yet, it felt kind of...good? The deviant bratwurst went up and up, and Meryl couldn't stop herself from crying out in pleasure as the awful thing squeezed up there in just the right way. She felt herself cumming, her breath coming out in little ragged bursts, a colour rising on her cheeks. She reached down to stop it, to yank the thing out, clumsily grabbed onto its end and pulled, blinking furiously to get the tears out of her eyes. Meryl felt it slowly coming back down and out of her, but when it was almost fully extracted, she could feel a little shiver run across the hot dog's surface, before it rose into a noticeable pulse.

She knew immediately what was going to happen, impossible as it was, and struggled to remove it with a new vigour - alas, too late. Something warm and sticky shot out from somewhere within the hot dog, and she felt it travel up toward and past her anus. If she were standing, her knees would have buckled. As it was, she let go of it and sank back into the bed of hot dogs surrounding her, looking as defeated and flushed as she ever had. Why there? Why was it always there? She wondered, as the scene started to swim before her, and she heard a distant, droning buzz in her ears. "What...what's...?" she murmured, as the sky above her started to run like so much wet paint, then dissolved at last into nothingness.

Meryl sat bolt upright, about to scream again, before she clapped her hands over her mouth, remembering where she was. She was back under the table, strictly speaking she'd never left; it had been a dream, just a dream. Though she couldn't help but feel a note of concern at how even her dreams were starting to reflect a certain...fixation. Why was it always there? Had Cheryl done more of a number on her than she thought? Was she traumatised? Was this what trauma felt like? She remembered the alarm, and went to turn it off, before it dawned on her that there was neither sound nor the usual vibration emanating from her phone. She took it out of her pocket and tried to turn it on, but all she got was a 'low battery' symbol, then a black screen. Meryl frowned, it had died? But she was sure the battery had been at seventy percent at least before she'd gone to sleep. If that was true, if the alarm hadn't gone off, then how long had she-

At last, she fully registered that familiar droning buzz from her dream, and with a sense of growing dismay, she recognised it for what it was - chatter, classroom chatter. Putting her head in her hands, she groaned quietly. She'd overslept, she'd overslept so badly that the exact scenario she'd wanted to avoid had come to pass: she was half-naked, trapped beneath a desk with only a thin bit of table cloth concealing her from a now-full classroom. She turned her head and saw several pairs of legs before her, some trousered, some skirted, some even shorted. Meryl groaned again and sat up fully, completely lost as to what action she should even take now. What could she do? How was she supposed to get out of this?!

Sitting like that for a several minutes, she tried to gather her thoughts and come up with something resembling a plan, as the tutor's voice went on somewhere beyond the table cloth at the front of the class, and students periodically piped up to answer questions, or else chatted quietly amongst themselves. Meryl looked at the several adjoining tables next to her own. They were all arranged in such a way that they made a sort of horseshoe-shaped formation, the tablecloths theoretically providing perfect coverage if a **** and enterprising young woman wanted to try and sneak up toward the door unseen. It would need to be on hands and knees of course, and, she noted, looking at the legs of differing length which continued up in either direction, she'd need to be careful not to brush up against anyone. Boy or girl, the situation could turn dire quickly if someone went to look under their table and saw Meryl Prentiss on her knees, boobs quite visible and blouse burned to hell and back. She bit a fingernail at the mental picture the idea conjured, then caught herself and lowered it away from her mouth with her other hand.

She could do this, she could very well do this, but there would be no room for mistakes, no room for screw-ups. Meryl took a deep breath, then nodded to herself. This was her only shot, she needed to do it now.