Dream When He Was Fat Novels & Stories

“I’m sorry I scared you off last night. But I’m definitely not sorry for wanting you.” His eyes dragged over my body with blatant hunger. “Look at that body… Those heavy, big tits begging to be sucked. That tiny waist and those wide, breeding hips. That round ass made for my hands. You’re built like a fucking wet dream. And you’re so damn innocent it drives me crazy.” I backed up until I hit the edge of the desk, heart hammering wildly.

Her dreams bother me and I hate hearing her beg that douchebag to not leave her. "I'm not fat, she sobs, I'm not fat...I didn't do anything wrong",fuck I wish I could gut him. I kiss her head as I gather her close. "shhhh baby your okay, I kiss her cheek, just relax my love I'm here",I hold her tight. "Duke, she whimpers, you can't leave me.....wake up",fuck she dreaming about my coma. I woke up being hateful to her. "shhhh love I'm here",I whisper kissing her lips.

“Yeah, you have been moaning and you couldn't stop saying ‘please…’ I swallowed when I heard his words, feeling ashamed of myself. My body felt strange, as though I had cum and it was an after glow. I could feel my nipples hardened against the fabric and my senses heightened. Damn it! How did I fall asleep? I don't know how it happened. Perhaps it's the exhaustion catching up on me because the last two weeks have been so crazy that I didn't have time to catch a breath. “I’m pretty sure the dream was about nanny. Perhaps I was eating one of her delicious dishes and I couldn't get enough. I was asking for more.” I shrugged, pretending the dream didn't have that much effect on me. The explanati

As he sat eating his burger and fries there was an extremely naughty thought growing in the back of his mind. The thought was simple and straight forward. That night in bed he would probably find it impossible not to dream about his mother and in those dreams of her she would be, without a doubt, running around in the very same outfit she is wearing now. But instead of being in a crowded bar they would be alone somewhere and he would have her all to himself. He expected the same explosive result to occur in the end just as it did this afternoon when he fantasied about her.

he told me. It hurt me to think that he was having such horrible dreams. Just as the fact that he wouldn’t let me hold him hurt me as well. With my hands folded in my lap, I asked him if it was always the same dream, or is it different? “The same,” he said softly. “Daddy comes into my room and tells me that you’ve been in an accident and that you’re sleeping but won’t ever wake up.” He didn’t have the words but it sounded like he was describing a coma. I found it odd that he was dreaming about me being in a coma. It was very specific.

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who once ate cereal with orange juice because he was too lazy to go to the store.” “That was one time. And I was twelve.” “You were seventeen.” He groaned. “Okay, rude. But seriously. You’ve been zoning out a lot. Quiet. Even more broody than usual, and that’s saying something.” I hesitated, fingers pausing on the laces. “You promise not to laugh?” “That depends entirely on what you’re about to say.” I turned slightly toward him. “I’ve been… dreaming about Damon.” “Oh boy.” He dropped onto the other bed with dramatic flair. “We’ve entered the ‘I think about him at night’ phase.”

Damnit, not living with my parents is making me real weak at making excuses. “Then come in.” He grabs my forearm and pulls me in. “I’m not really looking for se-” I had only begun my sentence before he climbed into bed and fell dead asleep. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to control both my embarrassment and laughter. What the fuck just happened? I laugh silently, my hand still clamped over my mouth. At least I wasn’t scared anymore. I had forgotten that I even had such a dream, looking at him. How does he sleep so much? Do demons really need to sleep a lot maybe?

I wonder… Dang. We really didn’t know each other. “Why are you antsy?” “Are we about to have a real conversation?” he asks. “We did last night.” “Indeed. Did you dream about me?” And there he goes with the cockiness. “Nope. I dreamed about cupcakes, lemon ones called Pucker Up. I shoved two in my mouth and may have had an orgasm.” “Did you dream about golf-ball-headed aliens too?”

I woke and sat up. That was the strangest dream I'd ever had. Then I realized that I felt different, stronger maybe. I slowly slid out of the bed and went back into the bathroom. Once I turned on the light I gasped. I was changed. I wasn't a ninety pound weakling anymore. I had muscles and definition. My ribs were covered with muscle and I had a well defined six pack and my dick was larger almost ten inches long and as thick as a can of Redbull.

I countered, confident in my reply. “No you don't.” He smirked as if something about this banter amused him, “but you make weird noises when you sleep,” he said, his voice low and calm. Heat rose in my cheeks, unsure if that part was true or not. I was recently having a dream of my mother from when I was 6 years old, and the memory of my arrest ruined it. “I was dreaming.” Darius squinted, “Oh really?” “Yes. I dreamt about being free,” I boldly revealed.