Can your fantasy partner verbally communicate?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey, thanks for reading so far! I know this has been quite the slow burn but I promise things are going to start featuring more kink, soon. I’ve enjoyed writing the story so far, but I’ve realized I don’t have any tags on the story, which I know could help more people find it! If anyone knows how to tag stories please either message me or, preferably, drop a comment on how to do it! Enjoy the next chapter!

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Can your fantasy partner verbally communicate?

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His body was pressed against mine in the hotel bed. Each of his exhales was a calming shushing as he gently stroked my hair with one hand. “It’s ok.” He kept repeating, you’re going to be ok, my love.”

“Charlie?” I asked, knowing he was supposed to be hours away, apparently trapped in a storm. All my messages to him had been undelivered. Gina had called me, trying to get a message through to Charlie not to come to the workshop, but neither of us had any luck reaching him. Our house was a deadzone when it rained and apparently it was pretty bad.

“No, my love.” He answered. “You’re dreaming. I’m your interpretation of me. An Animus.”

“A what?”

“Some psychology thing I talked to you about, but you only half-paid attention. I only know what you know consciously and subconsciously. You’re so troubled. What’s wrong?”

“Shouldn’t you know? If you’re just my brain?” I wanted to wake up, leap from the bed and try texting again. I didn’t even remember falling asleep.

But on the other hand I didn’t want to. Even knowing it was a dream, I felt so safe. His touch felt real and gentle. Always gentle. I stayed laying in the bed, deciding to enjoy the fantasy.

“I’m here to comfort you and make you feel loved. I could know what the problem is, but talking helps ease your worries, so I don’t.” He kissed my shoulder. It did really feel like he was here with me. And even despite him specifically saying he wasn’t real, it sounded just like him.

“Feels kinda pointless talking, since you can only tell me things I already know.”

“You struggle more with accepting the truths you do know. You’re stubborn, which I love about you, but it’s causing you grief, right now. I’m the bridge between what you consciously know, and what you suppress.”

I laid there in silence for a long while, building my courage. Even if he wasn’t really him, I didn’t want this dream to turn bad. “I really love my job, Charlie. I feel good at it, useful. But at home… I feel completely useless. You make romance look like it’s some easy thing. And it makes me scared to even try. You studied poetry, and woodworking, and music, and art. I can’t do that stuff. My skills are all business. I bring home money, and it’s like you don’t even want to spend it. But that’s all I’m good at. It’s all I know.”

He kissed between my shoulder blades, hands gently massaging my back. He didn’t say anything, just contuing to kiss sensitive places and rub deep aches away. “Mary… she loved money. I felt like I was doing it right with her. Expensive dinners, luxury hotels, I could give her a wad of cash and she’d spend it in an hour and be ready to bang my brains out. If I handed you a wad of cash, you’d go file it in joint savings. And you don’t even like the gifts I give you! You never even plugged in that computer I got so you could play your little games.”

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna tell you something that you need to hear from me, but I’m just too damn nice to ever say.” His hand traveled across my neck and up to my eyes, blocking them for a moment. When his hand moved I could see the wall I’d been staring at transformed into a window, looking into a shitty apartment in Portland.

The paper was peeling off the walls, most of the fixtures were chipped or cracked. All the furniture was a mismatched mess of whatever was free, ranging in quality from lightly used to absolute dogshit. A young woman in a loose hoodie and sweatpants sat hunched over a textbook at a dining table, her face breaking out from stress. Behind her on the floor was a bucket slowly filling up with water from a drip in the ceiling

In the kitchen, pouring some pasta into two bowls was a young, mousy looking man with a beard. His glasses fogged up from the steam, but cleared up on his short walk to the dining table to place one of the bowls next to the girl. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and kissed her head, saying something encouraging that I didn’t remember, but felt deeply.

“I hated that apartment…” I giggled, still feeling fondness at seeing the familiar place. It was all Charlie could afford on his teacher’s salary. He covered for the both of us so I could focus on my masters. I was so relieved when I got my manager’s salary and could leave behind that shitty place. After we left I had wanted him to be more grateful for the upgrade to a condo.

The man walked back to the kitchen and ate his portion of food quickly so he could start on dishes before he did laundry. “Before you were anyone,” Charlie whispered behind me, interlocking our fingers as I watched the scene. “Before you had anything,” the man paused at the sink and just watched the girl study, her face wrinkled in the most unattractive of ways as she was confused by some problem. He just wore the biggest smile. “I loved you when it cost me everything I had. Your career wasn’t an investment I made expecting returns.”

“My money’s all I have.”

“Well, I’m not a whore.” He chuckled, kissing my ear, even as his words sunk my heart. “All I ever needed from you was sincerity and security.” He reached down my arm and grabbed my ring finger, playing with the platinum band. “You never asked me on a first date. You didn’t buy me an engagement ring. You never even said the words ‘will you marry me?’. You just took what you wanted, you always have. I just miss feeling like I’m what you wanted. The most loving thing you can ever say to me is ‘Mine.’ And that’s how I’ll know you love me.”

His finger left my ring, wiping the tear that was sliding down my nose. “What do the pills do?” His hand slid to my breast, gently cupping it. He always had a reverance for my body, a way of making me feel like a goddess.

“I’m playing that one close to my chest. Do you think you’ll hate me over it?”

“No…” I cracked a smile, my nipples hardening. “You’re mine.” I guided his hand to my panties. His fingers slipped under, tenderly falling to familiar places.

What followed was a very strange sensation. It felt like the seconds he spent fingering me compounded to hours, a warm, wholesome feeling drawing an orgasm from me, it’s warmth pulsing throughout my body. I shuddered, pressing my back into him, only to find a squishy chest pressing back. Against my legs I could feel the warmth of an appendage that came all the way down my thigh.

“It’s time for work, my love.” His voice said, decidedly softer, more feminine. The room before me started to stretch, fading into blackness.

“No!” I growled, my arm stretching to grab the fleeing wall, yanking it back with a powerful pull. “I’m not done with you.”

I flipped around on the bed to see my lover’s face. Again, a strange sensation. It was all at once formless, yet still I somehow knew it was beautiful. Somehow I knew it was still him. The body was more defined, especially the big fake tits my hands immediately latched onto. Perfect teardrop shapes, round, defined nipples, and pert skin jiggling happily as Charlie moaned.

His tummy was flat and waist narrow, one of my hands nearly covering the whole surface. And between his young, tight, smooth legs was a large dick. It twitched and eventually lifted enough for a moment to flop down onto her hip, head hanging off the side. Locked in a state of semi-rigidity.

“Mine.” I declared, wrapping my hand around the poor thing. It jolted and spasmed close to the base, but was just too heavy and long to harden the second half. I moved my panties to the side and guided the head to my dripping pussy, foreskin rolling back as I stuffed inch after inch inside me. My eyes rolled from the sensation, my hand needing to remain as a support until finally I got low enough to get some of the hardened part inside.

My breasts dangled in front of her face. Fuck, I’m so much bigger than her… my mind flashed to my breast pumping coworker. Then to that comic of Freya breastfeeding and fucking Wendy. Without even thinking, my hand went behind her—when did he become a her?—head and lifted it to my breast, encouraging her to latch on, which she did.

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” I moaned as she whimpered into my breast. Much like with an oversized dildo, I had to bounce carefully so as to not allow her cock to spring out, my hand holding it in place. I owned her. I didn’t do it with money, I didn’t do it with a contract. “I’ll be better. I fucking swear it. God, you’ve been such a good girl, I love you so fucking—oh, fuck!—Mine!”

Just as I came, and I felt her cock begin twitching and siezing, she suddenly disappeared beneath me. “I love you more than anything. Which is why you have to wake up.”

My eyes opened, but my sight didn’t change. There was a screaming alarm clock on the nightstand, which was only half as loud as my little orgasm yelps. Instead of my big tittied fat cocked lover, I was siezing and grinding into a pillow, which I could feel myself pissing into. “Oh, fuck,” I panted, shivering from the pleasure. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck…” I moaned, bucking my hips in one last huge contraction. I reached over to silence my annoying alarm, reading the time.

“Oh, FUCK!” I rolled over running to the closet and yanking out the first bra I could find. Damnit, must’ve accidentally packed a B-cup. I threw it off to the side, trying another one of my bras, which I knew to be new. It was also very snug, but I didn’t have time to adjust it, so I just **** the clasp closed and threw on some panties.

So sweaty! I grabbed one of the spare towels and quickly patted down my glistening body. I yanked on my new striped slacks, threw on a shirt that was tighter than I remembered, and **** my feet into my heels. Damn, these are uncomfortable! I thought they were fine in the store.

I grabbed my cologne bottle and pressed down on the spraycap, which immediately snapped off, flying across the room. “Fuck!” I didn’t even press it hard! I didn’t have time. I just had to hope I didn’t reek of sweat and probably piss. I was running so late. I jumped out the door and rushed through the halls, fighting with my blazer the entire way to the elvator. By the time I reached the company car in the parking garage, my feet were already done with my heels. They felt smushed and the back dug into my tendon with a harsh bite.

I leapt into the car and tried sitting back, but the seat had somehow moved forwards, my knees bumping into the wheel and my head craned forwards to not brush the roof. I must’ve been really horny yesterday to not notice this! I adjusted the seat backwards a few inches and reclined it some, but still it didn’t quite feel right. Even the seatbelt seemed to fit a little too low on the shoulder, but I didn’t have time to adjust it up.

I hit the igntion start and put my hand on the passenger headrest to give me leverage to twist my body to look behind me as I backed out of my parking space. My hand practically enveloped the whole back of the headrest, my fingers long enough to curl around it. “I swear to God, these tiny Japanese cars.” I grumbled to myself, speeding out of the garage. “Smallest SUV in the damn world.”