Dark Wet Dreams Novels & Stories

“I don’t care anymore. I just want you.” The deception had worked perfectly. Their obsession grew darker, deeper, and far more dangerous.

*A three years old girl was crying. She was soaked in blood as if she had bathed in it. She was walking in a pitch dark forest, wondering where to go. She reached the road after wandering some more. Suddenly a bright light flashed almost blinding her.* My eyes snap open as I jolt up in my bed. Sweat is soaking my sheets and my breath is ragged. I have had this dream many times before and each time I end up in a terrible condition just like this.

No, they weren't just dreams because they were getting worse. They weren't nightmares either. Not quite. But they left me waking up breathless, heart racing as if I had been running through fog and claw marks. Always the same image: a forest cloaked in ash.A gutted packhouse. Wolves howling for help, their sounds choked by smoke. And always… a guy. His hands were always covered in blood, trying to heal someone I couldn’t see. I had never met him. But in my dreams, he usually stood up upon noticing me, his hands trying to reach out to me. I couldn't see his eyes clearly because his long hair was covering them, but I felt what he felt, and that was fear, sadness, and loneliness.

With a loud screech, the bat flew down at the wolf and the wolf charged towards it with an angry ferocity… Daniel gasped as he woke up from his dream. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. He was in his room and everywhere was still dark. He could still hear the loud snores of one of his room mates but that didn’t bother him. He was used to it by now. He checked his phone and saw that it read 4:AM. Sighing, he laid back and ruminated on his dream. ‘What could this mean?’ he pondered. ‘The bat?, the wolf? Fighting?. Is this some kind of unforeseen battle or something’

Hypersensitive to my own touch, I stroke the last of my tension away, collapsing into the wet sheets as the last hot jets explode. Fuck, I pant, my heart rate slowing to normal with each breath. It’s always like that, every time I have these dreams. I know it’s her, but it’s not her and as much as I wish she would, Darby isn’t going to summon me with magic. I groan into the darkness, feeling the wet spot grow cold. Uncomfortable now, I fling the covers off and roll onto my feet. Grabbing at the corners, I strip the bed, tossing the soiled linens into a pile on the floor and padding into the closet for the spares.

She asked, examining every inch of the room, but no one was there. The feminine voice was bent on hiding its source. Ruby felt sleepy, but was not excited about it. This wasn't the first time she had slept and woke up to the same dream, so she felt indifferent. Two human silhouettes stood at the edge of the forest, both looking at the path that led to civility of that time. The moon glowed beautifully and shot it's rays at their bodies through the trees.

Its front paws pinned my thighs as if preparing for more— And then another black wolf appeared from the shadows, letting out an angry growl as it tried to seize me from the first one— I jolted awake, heart hammering, a strange sticky discomfort beneath me. My hand slipped beneath the covers. Of course. Damn it. I was wet. Ever since I reached awakening age without gaining a wolf, I’d been having these strange dreams. After puberty, they had turned into full-blown sex dreams. I’d lost count of how many times I’d woken up drenched. But this time was insane. I was literally dreaming about wolves now. How pathetic was I?

With that thought, he closed his eyes, allowing the darkness to engulf him, and prayed for the strength to overcome the trials that lay ahead. But instead of finding respite in sleep, Dirk was plagued by a series of vivid and haunting nightmares. In his dreams, he was trapped in a maze of darkness, pursued relentlessly by shadows that whispered his deepest fears and insecurities. He fought to escape, but the walls of his subconscious closed in around him, suffocating him with their weight.

My hand drifts between my legs. I’m already wet. Have been since I left my car. The anticipation is its own foreplay – knowing they’re out there, knowing they’re coming, knowing that sometime tonight I’ll stop being a woman and become prey. I force my hand away. They’ll want me desperate. They’ll want me aching. That’s the point. Sleep comes in fitful waves. I drift off, jolt awake at some sound, drift off again. Time loses meaning in the darkness. Could be hours. Could be minutes.

The nights are the worst. Sometimes I dream in flashes, light, static, whispers of a name that never fully reaches me. In those dreams, I’m surrounded by fragments of code, melting away like snow in sunlight. I always reach out for someone’s hand, but wake up just before I touch it. My chest races, my fingers tremble. I tell myself it’s just a dream, but deep down, I know it’s something else.