Why does using these abilities you don't know how to use keep having consequences? It's not fair!

Other John patted you on the back. "Easy there. Whooo... that was a rough one. It's okay. Just breath, man. Just breath."

"What the Hell happened?"

"You kinda burned yourself out. It's okay. It's not dangerous -- not like that anyway. I don't know how it might be dangerous but that wasn't."

You shook your head, shivering slightly. "Burned... myself... what the Hell are you talking about? You never said anything about that!"

"Hey -- I didn't even know! Or know I knew. Or whatever. Look, I'm here to help you bang chicks and maybe harem up 'cause that's what you wanted. I don't do the heavy thinking!" id John sounded legitimately upset. Honestly, you almost thought he was worried for you.

Then again, you suppose that if you die, he dies with you, right?

"...so... what happened?"

"Look -- some of the things you do... it's like anything else. Dreams have a kind of... I don't know. Inertia. If you change them, it takes effort. It can be so little you don't even notice, but it's like knocking a soccer ball off course before it reaches the goal. It's easier to nudge it and let it go out of bounds under its own momentum then kick it head on and send it downfield."

You rolled your eyes. "Soccer analogies? Really? Like I really needed to be reminded of Zeke Campbell right now."

"Yow! Sorry! Um. Right. Take an apple--"

"Never mind. I got it." You managed to stand, with his help. "What do I do? Wake up?"

"Nah, you don't need to wake up yet. Hell, you probably need the sleep even more, now. Okay. I'm remembering... stuff. It's... okay, you know how when you brought Tiffany into Bella's dream, you both just sort of shifted into character?"

"Yeah?"

"Think of that as floating down a river instead of swimming. If you move into the right sort of dream and float -- just... letting the dream do what it does and being a part of it, you get refreshed. You recharge, at least a little.

You considered. "Okay, that makes sense. But what's the right sort of dream?"

id John looked at you, then laughed. "Dude. Sex." He shrugged.

"...seriously? Am I really just some kind of fucking incubus?"

"No! It's not... that's not it. Thing is... God, I don't remember a lot of this from when you figured it out. It's... I wanna say there are different types of dream. And if you were a different sort of dream-guy, then one of the others would be your 'thing.' But your 'thing' is lust, so lust charges you up."

"...I'm more confused than ever. Hey -- wait a second. I... I didn't do that much in either dream. I followed Tiffany's basic dream and let her kind of lead me where we needed to go, and Bella set everything up in her dream. And yeah we talked afterward but I've done that a lot. What's... why did this wipe me out?"

id John looked at you, blankly. "You... turned time down to next to nothing in both those dreams, dude. Did you think that was... I dunno -- a freebie?"

You blinked. "Oh shit, you're right."

"Honestly, the fact that you had a lot of sex in those dreams probably made it easier for you to keep it up, but... I mean, you've been asleep for maybe an hour, so far, but how many hours did you spend with Tiffany or Bella?"

"...I have no idea. I never know how long these things take."

"Yeah, that's the other thing. Even if you don't overclock shit -- hey, that... that works, kinda. In reverse. Never mind. Even if you don't do that, time's always a little fucking weird in dreams. Sometimes they go by fast, sometimes slow."

"Okay. So... I need to find a door and go into it. What about Bella or Tiffany? They'd..."

id John looked around. "I don't see their doors. Maybe they're not dreaming right now? I don't really get everything about how the Labyrinth works, sometimes."

"...well, what about Traci?"

id John looked blank. "Who's Traci?"

"...never mind." You looked around -- there were doors, but none of them 'felt' like Traci....

Oh. Of course. Shelly's door was right there. Why wouldn't it be?

"Hey, yeah!" id John said, grinning. "That'll be fucking hot! She's always--"

"...no way, man. Not tonight. Shelly's... Shelly's gone weird. I told you that."

"Oh. Right. Maybe not Shelly's dream if you're going to just have to ride it out without making changes."

"Hey -- what happens if an Inner Demon shows up in a dream and I'm just riding the dream instead of changing it?"

id John thought about it. "I dunno," he said. "I guess you just see the badness go down. Maybe get stuck being part of it. If you see an Inner Demon, maybe punch back out? This isn't the day to be Doctor Doh, Medicine Dude. Not at this point. Besides, you did your good deed with Tiffany, right?"

You took another couple of deep breaths. It was true -- you did help Tiffany tonight. And maybe fixed a few things. Including yourself. Maybe...

Traci had even said that the other psychotopologists 'had fun' in peoples' dreams. Maybe this is what she meant? And if you got actively ill over this, and that maintenance version of you actually did turn out to be bad news...

"Okay," you said. "Someone else's dream. But it has to be a sexy one."

"Yeah. That's fine. Right now, you probably can't see _un_sexy dreams."

You looked around. There were a few doors -- including one almost as nearby as Shelly's. All right. That one.

"So what do I do?" you asked. "Besides walk in?"

"Do what you did in Bella's. Just... let it... guide you into character. And then just... go with the flow. Whatever you do, just do it. Don't try to change shit. And remember -- and this is important?"

"Yeah?"

id John leaned forward. "When you're going with a dream's flow? You're not doing things. You're... watching their dream. You're just playing a part in it. So if they have you do fucked up shit? That's not you doing fucked up shit. It's them getting off on being... done... fucked... up shit too... damn words are hard. This is why I prefer to just do things."

"Gotcha. Okay. It's a new door. No baggage to deal with. I'm... just gonna go with the flow."

"And don't try to fuck with the time!"

"I won't!" That you didn't need to be told. Maybe you weren't the brightest, but still.

You took a deep breath, tried to steady yourself, and stepped through the new door...

It was a pretty normal house, if dark. It looked like an absolutely generic house. It could practically be your house, the way you always thought of it. Your clothes were dark, but you weren't in a mask... but you were walking through the hall.

No. Not walking. Stalking.

You were a predator. Like a big cat that smelled prey.

You turned around that little bend at the end of the hall that led to your parents' bedroom--

Internally, you blinked. Wait. This wasn't a generic house.

This was your fucking house.

Your body, in the meantime, was still walking. Walking right up to your parents' bedroom. The door was open. And you heard something like... whimpering?

You pushed through the door. You saw your parents' bed.

You saw Glynda, lying on the bed. Tears on her face. Listening to a squeaking sound. A sound you realized almost certainly was coming from your own room.

The sound... of Shelly fucking you before bed.

You felt your heart lurch. She heard you? Jesus Christ... no wonder she was crying. No wonder sh--

...wait.

This wasn't a nightmare. Or a crying kind of dream.

This was a sexy dream. This was a wet dream.

Your eyes fell on her. She was in those same burgundy panties she wore earlier that night. Instead of the pale mustard top she was wearing a grey button down shirt. A men's button down shirt.

Your fucking men's button down shirt.

She hadn't seen you yet. And you then felt, as plain as day, the same feeling you saw every time you looked at her since this whole thing started? The same feeling you got from almost everybody. That feeling that told you their fetishes like you could see them printed on their forehead.

Glynda's fetish was **** fantasies where she was a submissive participant.

She was in your shirt.

Listening to you have sex.

You turned your head to the left. There was a mirror next to the closet, of course.

You saw yourself. Literally. You saw yourself.

Oh boy.