The 'nightmare' seems to be over, but is it really?

"Hey, wake up," a voice said, and Amanda mewled in protest. She didn't want to wake up, it was better to stay asleep.

"Wake up," the voice insisted, and when she didn't respond the speaker jammed something into her pussy.

Amanda moaned as she dimly felt the state of her body. Her pussy and ass were both swollen shut and red from excessive use, her tits covered with bruises, hickeys, bites and scratches. Her face had been too hard to use safely so mostly she just had chipped teeth from bottles being offered. A few dykes had humped her nose and a lot of guys had slapped her silly, leaving her cheeks red and swollen, her lips split and her nose a little bloodied. If she weren't so out of it she'd have been in a lot of pain but in no danger.

A thin stinking homeless man stood above her, his unkept beard greasy and bug-infested, drawing his eyes as he talked. "I'll take you home if I can have your stuff," he said.

Amanda just blinked at him with uncomprehending eyes. Without understanding she nodded, and the guy grinned as she passed out again.

"Wake up," a voice said, one she thought she knew. She murmured, telling it to go away.

"Wake up!" it insisted, and she felt a finger on her pussy, the pressure instinctively making her open her eyes, like something bad would happen if she didn't.

A pale man's gaunt face looked down at her. He wasn't all that good looking but he wasn't ugly. He smelled of her shampoo, and he held her laptop. "What's your password?" he asked, and she mumbled it to him. Anything to get to sleep again.

"What's your mother's birthday?" the man asked her some time later.

Weird dream, she thought, blinking at him in complete befuddlement. "April 22nd, 1970," she replied automatically, and he typed on her laptop. She saw something like a bank logo on the screen, and the words credit. Then she fell asleep.

Amanda woke intermittently after that, sometimes to the man and his questions, but mostly just for short confused bouts. Dreams plagued her, nightmares like the one about various homeless men lining up by her bed, or the dentist who was pulling broken teeth from her mouth. The same dentist showed up a couple more times, then thankfully he didn't show up anymore, though her mouth kept feeling sore for a while after.

Sometimes she thought she woke up, like the time she saw a guy using her laptop on bank pages, or him injecting her with things or an intravenous rack with a bag by the bed. The weirdest was him removing a diaper from her, cleaning her, and then either putting on a new one or saying, 'Time to open for your customers'.

Dreams of men using her continued, the class of men changing. Gradually the long line of homeless men became more upscale, though only gradually, and never anything too white-collar. The lines didn't get all that much shorter either. That same guy who kept showing up in the dream would take money from them and offer a condom for five bucks.

The final dream seemed so lucid as to be real. The guy was leaning over her bed, pulling the intravenous cords from her body, removing the catheter, and lastly pulling off the diapers.

Diapers, she thought in horror.

"Amanda, I've drained all the money I can from you. Enough to get me off the streets again. I've returned the favor by bringing you home and nursing you back to health, relatively speaking. Oh, and most of all by not killing you."

"I wasn't going to waste money on doing anything about whatever you might've caught out there, but you should probably get checked out to make sure you haven't got anything you've been passing on. Your customers are a loyal bunch. it seems most of them come back every night so you'd better get a move on."

"Oh, I did leave you a little something," he winked, then the dream ended and she went back to sleep, faintly hearing the door open and close.

When next she became aware of anything it was a ringing sound coming from the other room.