Dreams

These are dreams the PC can have. They are in no real particular order.

Male #1

You are not sure of where you are exactly, only that you are very happy to be there. Relaxing and enjoying yourself, you lie back on an enormous, soft pillow, gazing up at the fluffy, pink haze above. Someone puts some kind of sweet in your mouth, which you greedily eat up, sighing as you feel it melt in your mouth. Slowly, you become aware of more people surrounding you, maidens and youths of all shapes and sizes. You can’t seem to focus on any one in particular, but they are all very beautiful, and very scantily clad.

You sink deeper into the warm embrace of silk and skin, countless hands softly caressing your body. Lips tasting of fresh cherries lock with yours, and you feel someone straddling you...

When you wake up, you are sporting a raging hard-on. Your whole body is tingling, and your heart is racing. Grudgingly, you get up to face the day.

Male #2 (possibly gender neutral and dependent on scholar)

Your pupils sit in orderly rows as you read from a dry tome in your hands. A hand is raised in the back, and after finishing the sentence, you shut the book, waving for the student to speak. He stands, and you can barely make him out in the distance.

“Sir,” the piping voice somehow carries to you through the distance. “What is agoraphobia?” As you look, the student seems to recede further. Behind him, the rows go on and on, spreading outwards and stretching endlessly, until there is nothing in your view but an endless sea of desks, an endless sea of intent faces.

Breathing a little fast, you glance down hurriedly, and reopen the book. There. Only you and the words.

You awaken, shivering slightly. What a peculiar dream.

Male #3 (possibly dependent on Gwendy's Farm location)

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Gwendy assures you, patting your head fondly as she secures the restraints on your wrists. For a moment, you are left to your own devices in the cramped stall, awkwardly propped up over a waist high wooden frame, all your four limbs restricted with large leather bands. Even here inside the barn, you can feel a faint waft of a chill wind, making a shiver run over your naked skin.

When Gwendy returns, she is leading a large stallion, one of the biggest in her stall. As she parades the stud in front of you, caressing his immense horsecock into its full size, you start to get an inkling to just what you have agreed to. Your fears are confirmed as she wraps a breeding bag over the horse’s flared cock, pouring a generous amount of lubricant over the enormous package. “I’m so glad that you are helping me with this, Ocean,” the farmer tells you as she leads the aroused stud around the other end of the stall, out of your eyesight.

“Now, just relax,” she says as you feel the stallion positioning himself over you, his forelegs resting on the frame in front of you. A heavy weight falls across your back as he mounts you, and the air is driven from your lungs as the massive animal rams its cock inside your protesting ass.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it,” Gwendy tells you over her shoulder, her voice barely audible to you as the stud begins to move, fucking you with long, deep thrusts. “I’ll go and get the next one...”

You aren’t quite sure what to think as you wake up.

Male #4 (possibly gender neutral)

Paws pound the snow behind you and to your sides, as you lope through the trees. Your brothers and sisters are fast, but you are faster. You all smell the deer ahead, the distance narrowing as she tires. Above you, a raven croaks on the wing, encouraging your pursuit.

You hear the deer turn and dart out through the treeline. She’s desperate, but clever. Humans live out there. It’s dangerous to chase too far. You bare your teeth, and push harder, your claws pounding through the thin layer of snow and finding purchase in the dirt underneath. There are snarls from your pack, as they try to match your pace, but you’ll have to do this alone.

Out in the open, the deer is almost within reach, and you push past what even you thought possible, your paws lightly brushing the ground, sending you almost flying forward. You press a little deeper, and launch yourself, your teeth closing on your prey’s neck, her lifeblood flowing over your tongue.

Soon, your pack is there, and you all feast on your kill. You dig through the entrails, the intoxicating smell of the deer’s blood covering your muzzle, until you come up with the liver. To the best hunter go the choicest bits.

Waking up, you brush a hand over your nose, a little surprised to find it clean.