Redhead daydreams.

Your first stop when you get to your college is the library, trudging your way up to the dreams section again in hopes of finding Asgitsa. You have no fucking clue why this dream shit's been happening to you and you could use some insight from somebody who at least seems to have a modicum of knowledge about the subject. However, the rows are just as empty as yesterday, your footsteps the only sound in the vast space. Honestly, it kind of gives you the creeps, as if you're the unwitting star in a horror movie and some devilish, inhuman creature is about to leap from a dark corner and devour you. Given the dream you had last night, you probably shouldn't discount that possibility.

Before you leave for class, you stop at the information desk and ask about Asgitsa, only to be informed that she's not a library employee and must only have been a helpful student taking pity on you. You thank the worker and head outside, where the sun from this morning has turned into a dull grey sky with blacker clouds threatening rain.

You hurry across campus to your first class of the day, your mind repeatedly drawn back to the dream with Penny. The questions you have are many. Do the people in your dreams remember them upon waking, or is that just a figment based on the odd reactions you'd observed in them? Why are they so hyper-sexualized , even when it's your family members? What is the odd hallway and could you find anybody through it? How much control do you really have in them? Why is this happening now?

Unfortunately, the answers aren't nearly as abundant, and you're left feeling sluggish and as dreary as the weather. The first drops of rain splatter around you when you reach your first class.

The day is interminable. The lesson drags by like molasses and you have a difficult time paying attention, thinking of all you don't know. The break between your classes is even worse, and you feel dragged down by the rain as you eat lunch, staring out at the quad as it gets drenched and lightning slams through the sky like liquid darts of light. You consider skipping your second class, but you don't really want to go outside in this weather, so you sigh and grab your backpack, slumping your ass to the nearby classroom.

It's even worse then the first. As the professor drones on endlessly, you place your elbow on your desk and rest your chin on your palm, letting your eyes wander as you hopelessly wait for time to move faster. And then you see someone who looks just as uninspired as you, a gorgeous redhead a couple of rows behind you, whose eyelids are almost shut and is rubbing the eraser of her pencil back and forth across her freckled cheek. She must have gotten caught in the rain, her hair still damp but still hanging in perfect curl and a green tanktop that's clinging to a pair of knockout tits that are large enough to fill both your hands and then some. The top is complimented by a loose knee-length skirt that offers a glimpse of long legs that end in heeled boots. You get a fucking boner just looking at her. You could picture her as a homecoming queen....

The hallway appears in front of your eyes. Not entirely, more as a misty half-image, overlaid on top of the classroom. It's enough to shock you out of your stupor and it immediately disappears. What the hell? you think. I'm not sleeping, why is it showing up now?

You look around, but no one else seems to have noticed anything amiss. You settle back in and focus your gaze on the redhead again. Nothing. Then you let you thoughts turn back to her as a homecoming queen...and the hallway's back, intangibly.

You reach out--you're somewhat surprised that your corporeal arm doesn't actually stretch forward, just the one that appears in the hallway--and try the closest door but it doesn't budge. You can't feel any emanations from it either. The next few you test are the same way. It's not until you stand before an old-fashioned halfdoor, with separate pieces for top and bottom, that you feel any reaction. It's a deep red, like autumn leaves, and when you place your hand upon it, a name comes to you: Jean. You increase the pressure. Magical, flighty, unprepared, honest, necessary.

It's definitely the girl behind you. Intrigued, you push the door open and step through.

You're in a hotel ballroom, wearing a tuxedo with matching green cummerbund and bowtie, surrounded by a sea of people all wearing their best outfits. Cheesy decorations litter the walls an ceilings, silver streamers hanging everywhere you look and a nearby speaker is playing a slow song that most people are swaying to with their partners. There's even a disco ball hanging in the center of the room, spraying people with rectangles of light as it spins.

The music ends and you see an older gentleman climb onto a stage at the near end of the room, stopping in front of a microphone and tapping it annoyingly to grab everyone's attention. He's wearing a dusty old suit that's seen better days and carrying two envelopes. He clears his throat directly into the microphone. "Thank you all for coming out tonight and making this the best Fall Ball we've had in a long time!" He says with a forcefully cheery smile. He continues on in a loud voice he must assume is a proper announcer's voice, "And now, the moment you have all been waiting for! The naming of the Royal Court!"

There's a small smattering of applause, which he takes as encouragement. Opening the first envelope, he says, "The Queen of the Fall Ball is...Jean Aisling!" He starts clapping enthusiastically as an girl dressed in an elegant gown joins him on stage.

Of course, it's the redheaded girl from your class. Her curly red hair is piled atop her head in intricate tower of hairspray and bobby pins, leaving her freckled skin to shine brightly under the stage lights. Her gown hugs her slim body, with flowing skirts that flutter all the way to the floor and a corset top that creates a shelf from her prodigious pair of ta-tas that you could land a fucking plane on. You get an even better look at her phenomenal juggs when she leans forward to accept her crown. She looked gorgeous in class, but she's royalty in your daydream. You were right, she makes an amazing homecoming queen.

Time to see how much control I have.

As the older man fumbles with the second envelope, you exert you will upon this place and, with only slight surprise, he calls your name as Fall Ball King.

As you make your way to the stage, Jean is watching you press through the crowd, her blue eyes gleaming. You push on the dream again, slightly. She's known you for years, and has had a slight crush on you. She's ecstatic that you won and will be joining her, making her heart race and her hands tremble a little bit. After you take your crown, you grip her hand in yours--a perfect fit--and raise it high, causing the crowd to erupt in cheers, Jean smiling so wide that her cheeks must hurt. She's never going to let go of this moment.

The doddering old man takes hold of the microphone one last time. Another push from you. "Now, will everybody please quiet down and bring their attention to the newly crowned King and Queen. As is tradition, they will have this next song entirely to themselves, so everyone step back. They'll need enough room to fuck each other's brains out!"

Shock flashes into Jeans eyes, but you pull her into your arms as the music begins playing and smother her in a life-altering kiss. Her lips taste sweet and her tongue, once aroused, dances with yours like lovers. You feel her resistance crumble, her body relaxing into yours and her hands begin to roam your body, exploring and touching everywhere. You can tell her thoughts are 'After all, it's only a dream, right?'

You move down her neck and onto the slopes of her giant tits, lightly kissing every freckle that you find. It takes you a while, and each peck sends shudders through her body, shaking her breasts and leaving her breathless. Her hand finds your crotch, pulling down your zipper and fishing out your already hard, throbbing cock. As her fingers circle its girth she gasps and looks down at it. "Jesus Christ," she says, with a delightful Irish brogue, her hand running along your entire length. "Your dick is fucking huge!" Other girls in the crowd nod their enthusiastic agreement, jealousy in their eyes at Jean's new toy.

"It's all for you," you tell her, grinning at her delight. "I'll even let you choose where it goes."

Jean pulls you in close, giving a throaty growl driven by her lust. "There's only one place this magnificent piece of meat is going, boyo"--for some reason you get even harder when she calls you that--"and that's in my sweet puss!"

She gives you a scorching kiss and then leads you over to the railing of the stage. She puts her hands against it and turns her backside to you, helping you as you gather up the folds of her large skirt until you can get a clear shot at her ass. It's pert, small and just enough to hold onto. Then she leans forward, sticking her butt out in invitation, and you slide forward, finding a snug fucking fit inside her cunthole. She moans in pleasure and the crowd pushes forward, itching for a better look at the King and Queen screwing.

You waste no time in plunging your bone in and out of her tight hole, driving her so hard against the railing that the metal squeals under the weight, but it holds. Her velvety walls feel fantastic, way better than anything you've ever felt before, like your dick and her pussy were built for each other. Your balls slap against her tender clit, making her jump with each thrust. Her huge melons are waging a war against the strapless neckline of her gown, straining, bouncing, bursting but never quite leaping free, much to the disappointment of the crowd. She snarls at them.

"You like this? You lads and lasses enjoy seeing me get fucked, have a nice, thick dick shoved so deep in my pussy that I'll be walking bowlegged for weeks? You get off on watching me and my boyo fornicate like goats?" Heads nod but nobody speaks. "Then fucking show me, you knobs. Show me how turned on you twats all are!" Damn, this girl's got a mouth on her, you think.

It's starts slow at first, a rustle of cloth, a button unhooked. But soon, pricks spring from pants and hands are buried beneath skirts, all while Jean bounces on your cock on stage. Moans spring up in small pockets, people cumming while watching the show. Jizz flies all over the place like fireworks, and some girls fall to the floor when they're overtaken by pleasure. At the sight, your redheaded Queen slams back onto your shaft, driving both of you to orgasm. With a powerful squeeze, Jean's pussy contracts against your cock and you let loose all of your dream sperm into her waiting canal.

And you wake up.

Behind you, you hear a squeak and turn back just in time to see Jean almost fall out of her chair, her legs pressed together so hard you fear she might bruise herself. She bites her lips to keep other noises from escaping and only the people close by notice anything. You down at you lap and realize you have you own issues, namely a widening stain on the front of your pants where your cum is coming through. When you pick your head back up, you find Jean staring at you, her face matching the color of her hair quite nicely.

When the professor calls the end of the hour, she streaks to the door immediately, deliberately avoiding you and, given your current state, there's no way you're going to chase her. You wait for the classroom to empty before gathering up your stuff, strategically placing your bag in front of you and leaving for home. You have a lot to consider.