The Changing Dreams of a Redhead
By Psionic_X
“People don’t resist change, they resist being changed.”
I awoke with a start. The dreams again. Dreams of him. All night. Every night. He came to me and used me in so many different ways. Ways I had never allowed a man to have me nor would I ever. And the way he talked to me in the dreams...I felt myself blush as my nipples harden.
The dreams had started four months ago and were starting to drive me crazy. I had to get them to stop. Get him to stop! He was doing it. I knew he was but how to prove it? He had never spoken to me inappropriately. Had never looked at me in an unprofessional way. Beyond a simple handshake when we first met six months ago when I was hired, we had never made physical contact. But he was doing this. Somehow he was making me dream these things!
I roll out of bed and looking at the wet spot I had left I blush even deeper with shame. He had made my body betray me. I didn’t want the things he did to me in those dreams. I didn’t. I had to make him stop!
I strip out of my night clothes and look at myself in the full length mirror. I was pleased with what I saw. I was 30 and looked 20. My classic 36-24-36 physique was as tight and firm as it had been in college. My red hair was thick and luxurious and my eyes a piercing grey. I was gorgeous and men made fools of themselves just to get me to look at them. And who could blame them? Not many women could hold a candle to this! And absolutely none where I worked!
I look at my reflection in shock! I never examined myself in this way! My inner voice never spoke like this! Though I knew men found me attractive I have never been vain! I never compared myself to other women! But here I was, acting like I was better than others simply because of the way I looked! It was his doing. The dreams he was giving me! I had to see him today and get him to stop this...whatever this was.
I go into the bathroom an brush my teeth then get into the shower and wash off the filth I couldn’t see but felt. The filth only a dirty slut can feel. I wasn’t a slut though. I wasn’t! So why didn’t I believe that? Because the dreams were wearing me down. Changing my beliefs, changing me. Making me into a slut. A slut for him. I knew it. I could feel it.
I get out of the shower and dry myself. I get dressed and after checking myself to make sure I looked professional I grab my briefcase and leave the house, the dreams continuing to dominate my thoughts.
The day moves rapidly and getting a free moment I go to his office. His name is Brandon Garnett. Age 45. African-American. Built like a prizefighter. And the man who is warping and twisting me into his toy by manipulating my dreams. I was going to make him stop. I had to.
Having made an appointment, his secretary waves me on in. I walk past her and open his door. He is on the phone. Smiling, he motions for me to come and sit. I comply and look around the office. Its sparsely decorated with some weird abstract paintings, a world globe on his desk, a bookshelf with business volumes on it. Not much else.
Brandon hangs up the phone and leaning back again he smiles at me.
“Harmony! Its good to see you! That was great work you did on the Slater account. Saved the company millions! You’re doing a first class job and rest assured, people are taking notice.”
“Thank you Brandon. I appreciate that. However, I would like to speak with you about a personal matter.”
Brandon, noting the seriousness in my voice, leans forward, concerned.
“Is something wrong Harmony? Problems here at the office?”
“Brandon, I really don’t wish to discuss it with you here. If you don’t already have plans, I’d like to take you to lunch and discuss this outside of the office.”
Brandon frowns as his concern deepens. He thinks a moment and then smiles.
“Yes I can do lunch. Not a problem. Its 11:30 now, so why don’t we go ahead and get an early start. I have nothing pressing until two.”
We both stand and walk out of his office, Brandon informing his secretary that we were heading out to lunch. We take the elevator down to the parking garage and I suggest we take my car. It made me feel more in control and confident about the coming confrontation.
I take him to a burger joint I know he favors when not entertaining clients or lunching with company higher ups. Its a quiet diner that gets steady business, but is never too busy so there is plenty of privacy if we sit in a back booth, which is where I lead him. We sit and he is grinning broadly.
“I love this place! Its never slammed and has a double cheeseburger that is out of sight! I feel like its my birthday or something!”
I force a smile at his obvious enthusiasm. The waitress, a middle aged woman comes over, pad and pencil at the ready.
“You’re early today Brandon. And you brought a friend.”
“Hey there Peggy! Yeah this is actually a business meeting. This is my associate, Harmony. Harmony, Peggy.”
The woman eyes me curiously.
“You really work with him?”
“Why yes, I do.”
The woman examined me as if deciding whether or not I am lying.
“Okay, if you say so. But you best watch out. You look like one of his girlfriends.”
“Girlfriends?”
“Yeah, you’re stacked and got red hair. I ain’t never seen him with no other kinda woman. Only curvy redheads.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. He had a thing for redheads. Is that why the nightly dream assaults?
“Peggy, stop freaking her out. She really does work with me and this is really just a business meeting.”
“Uh-huh. What kinda cheese do you want on your double today?”
“Let me have pepper jack. And Peggy? You tell Earl that I get extra cheese and I don’t mean the extra ounce like he gives the regular crowd. He got me last time because I was on the run and took it to go. But I’ll be back in that kitchen he pulls that stunt today. You tell that cheap bastard to hook me up like usual!”
Peggy giggles.
“Don’t you worry hun. I’ll see that he gets it right for you! You want onions?”
“You must be losing your mind to have to ask. Of course I want onions! I think sauteed today.”
“Fries?”
“No, I’m going with tater tots today. Ol’ Earl has levelled up on those lately. And let me have a strawberry shake.”
“You got it. How about you hun?”
“Just a cheeseburger and fries please.”
“Anything to drink?”
“Just a coke.”
‘Coming right up.”
The woman walks off to give the order and Brandon looks at me, no longer smiling. He was clearly concerned.
“Harmony, what’s this about? You said a personal matter. As in personal, you have a problem with someone at work, like sexual harassment, or personal as something outside of work?”
“The truth is Brandon, its both.”
I watch as the concern on his face deepens.
“Who is bothering you Harmony?”
At that moment Peggy returns with our drinks. She sits them in front of us and lets use no our food will be ready soon, then walks off again. My throat is suddenly dry and I take a sip of my coke and Brandon tastes his milkshake.
He look at me again.
“Okay Harmony, tell me, who is harassing you?”
“I think you already know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Brandon, please stop playing games. You know perfectly well what this is about.”
“Harmony, I can assure you, I have no idea as to why you are upset. Please, enlighten me.”
“You’re sexually harassing me.”
“Me? I’m sexually harassing you? Are you serious right now?”
“You know that I am. This doesn’t have to go any farther than this diner. Just agree to leave me alone and I’ll drop the whole thing.”
“I’ve never touched you! I’ve never spoken to you inappropriately! I’ve never so much as flirted with you! What kind of joke is this? Because its not funny Harmony. Its not funny at all!”
“Do you see me laughing? You know full well this isn’t a joke. You know exactly what you are doing. And you’d better stop doing it and I mean now!”
“Okay Harmony. Why don’t you tell me exactly what I am doing to sexually harass you. Because as far as I am concerned, my behaviour towards you and every other female employee has been impeccable.”
I take another sip of my coke and as if taking his cue from me, Brandon has more of his milkshake.
“You’re entering my dreams at night and making me do....things with you.”
Brandon sits staring at me for a few seconds. Then he grins. Then he begins to chuckle. Then he starts to laugh.
“Okay, I get it. This was a joke! Hahahahaha! Good one, you had me going there for a minute. In this day and age just the accusation can cost a fella his job. So who put you up to this? Lawrence in accounting? No I bet it was Tyler in HR, this is his kind of joke alright.”
“Brandon, I am not joking. No one put me up to anything. You are entering my dreams at night and raping me and I won’t have it. You’ll stop doing it or I will charge you with sexual harassment!”
Brandon looks at me and the smile is replaced with anger.
“Okay Harmony, this is no longer funny, especially when you use the word rape. I don’t know what your game is, but I’m done. You take your order to go and head back to the office. I’ll pay.”
“Brandon, you’re a pretty good actor but you’re not fooling me. You are doing this, I know you are! You will stop interfering with my dreams or I will charge you with sexual harassment!”
Brandon sits back and looks at me with utter contempt.
“Then go ahead.”
I’m surprised.
“What?!? Do you think I am bluffing?”
“No Harmony, I don’t think you are bluffing. But whatever your aim, you’ll never make this stick. I have been with this company for 18 years. My reputation is golden. My behaviour towards female staff has always been above reproach. I’ve never dated a co-worker or fucked one in a broom closet. There has never been even a whisper of wrongdoing around me. You yourself admit I have never touched you or talked to you in an inappropriate manner.
And while the courts in this day an age will often fuck guys over with no proof of wrong doing, I’m confident someone claiming “dream rape” isn’t going to get anywhere. So yeah, I’ll take my chances. So accuse me all you like of “dream rape”. You’ll just be out of a job and blacklisted from the business...you know how tough it is for women caught lying about sexual harassment to catch on anywhere else because bbusinesses get played out of too much money by women like you to take the chance. So go right ahead Harmony. I promise, you go up against me with this horseshit, a place like this is the only place you’ll be able to get work.”
I sit there looking at him slack jawed. He was right. I had been so desperate to get him to stop that I never thought it through. Sexual harassment via dreams? I’d be laughed right out of the building...and my career!”
Peggy brings our food and Brandon informs him that I needed to get back to the office asap and to box up my food to go. She picks up my plate and glass and hustles off. Brandon looks at me, the contempt still written all over his face.
“Okay Harmony, here how this will go. When Peggy returns, you take your ass back to the office and we’ll pretend this conversation never happened. Don’t worry, I’ll pay and take care of her tip and take a cab back to work. But Harmony, don’t ever pull this stunt again, not with me or any other guy from the company. You do and I promise, the only kind of settlement you’ll get is an application from Peggy because she is always looking for good help. See you back at the office.”
On cue, Peggy came back with my food. I thanked her and picked up the box and soda cup and walked out without looking back, embarrassment and rage warring within me for supremacy. He’d gotten me! He’d made me seem like the villain when he was! I wasn’t convinced even for a moment that he was innocent. Brandon Garnett was manipulating my dreams somehow and I knew it. My only hope was that knowing I was on to him would make him back off.
When Brandon arrives back at the office its business as usual. We interact and its as if nothing has happened. The look of contempt is gone and its the Brandon I have known for six months: A consummate professional. He was a good actor, I had to give him that much. But he had been fucking me in my dreams, I had no doubt about that. He wasn’t fooling me and I was determined not to let him have his way. I wouldn’t be his slut. No matter what I wouldn’t fall to him.
The sweat that dripped off of me felt like lava. My breasts swayed and bounced like boulders crashing down a mountain. I was continuously being thrust forward in a rhythmic fashion. The cause of all this was Brandon fucking me thoroughly while I was on all fours. Electric pleasure flashed through my body and the rumble of powerful, thunderous orgasms followed close behind. It was like nothing I had ever felt before.
The sex seemed to go on and on, Brandon fucking me for untold ages, each thrust of his cock into my burning pussy taking millenia to complete. And the pleasure he gave me seemed to be boundless. Pleasure that surely no ordinary woman was meant to experience. Pleasure that was at once sacred and profane. Pleasure that served some purpose other than my happiness.
The entire time Brandon spoke. I couldn’t understand the words because instead of letters they flowed from him as symbols yet my body understood. The symbols he spoke entered directly into my body. These symbols seemed to congregate inside of me, like priests performing some dark and nameless rite, forbidden alchemical magic turning lead into gold and woman into slut....
I started awake, drenched in a cold sweat. Another dream. Brandon wasn’t letting up. Instead he was intensifying his efforts. It was the most intense and vivid dream he’d ever sent me and even laying there in my own icy sweat and breathing hard I could feel the dark dreams working deep inside of me, changing me, making me more and more the slutty little redheaded fuck toy Brandon was crafting me to be.
I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom. I look in the mirror, thinking deeply on what I could do to to stop Brandon. My image gives me no idea so I strip and start the shower. I get in and let the hot water wash away the sweat while I continue to think on how I can defeat Brandon’s effort to enslave me.
In the office, its business as usual. I go through the motions, waiting for lunch. When it comes I watch as everyone heads out...including Brandon. I slip into his office and search his desk. Nothing. His books. Nothing. The globe. Nothing. My frustration grows. I consider breaking into his house. I needed to find something I could use to stop him. I look at my watch. Wasn’t even 10 minutes after noon. I sigh and figure I may as well grab some lunch.
As I am standing to leave, I view one of the weird abstract paintings and I’m drawn to it. I step closer and look deeper. So strange. It was like looking at a dream....
“Why are you in my office Harmony? My painting sexually harassing you now?”
I start with a gasp and look at the door. Brandon was back! Damn he must have forgotten something.
“I-I was just admiring your painting, that’s all.”
“Really? Because most people think they are weird. In fact, judging by the look on your face whenever you’ve come in here, I thought you were one of those people. Anyway, I have a conference call in about 5 minutes so you’ll have to leave.”
“Now? During lunch?”
Brandon looks at me strangely.
“Lunch? Its five minutes to one!”
I look at my watch and it was indeed five minutes to one! I had stood and looked at that painting for more than 45 minutes!
“Harmony, is there a problem?”
“No..I just...I guess I just lost track of time.”
“Okay, well you should get back to work and I’ll do the same.”
“Yes...yes I will.”
I walk past Brandon and back to my own desk. Concentrating on work was a struggle though. I couldn’t get that painting and the fact I had stared at it for so long, completely losing myself in it. But why? I didn’t like abstract art! Didn’t understand why anyone did. And Brandon’s were really strange. Everyone at the office who’d seen them had commented on how odd they were but no one could put a finger on why they felt that way. For me, they just gave me the creeps, made me think of that HP Lovecraft story, “Pickman’s Model” which made no sense since they were just paint splashes and not horrific images of monsters.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully and I leave still thinking about the painting.
That night, strangely weary from an average day, I go to bed a little earlier than usual and quickly fall asleep. Almost immediately the onslaught began. But not an onslaught of sex. Instead, an onslaught of the strange symbols. Hundreds of them.
I was floating above the ground and the symbols swirled around me. Occasionally one would enter my body and each time it was as if I was being branded, an intense burning sensation that led to a strange, delicious, pleasure. Again and again, one by one, the symbols entered my body until there were none left. I hung there for a moment in the air, again oozing that burning lava sweat.
Suddenly, in that transition less blink of an eye way of dreams, I am laying on a bed, chained down spread eagle. All around me was darkness but I was in a spotlight. Out of the darkness and into the spotlight emerged Brandon, naked. He came up to me and reaching down played with my hair. He spoke but no sound came out, only symbols but these symbols were different from the ones that came before. These new symbols were breathtakingly beautiful. They made me think of the most beautiful music made solid and shiny.
These symbols too flowed into my body but there was no burning sensation this time, only that unusual yet luscious pleasure, only 10 times stronger than what had come before. Brandon kept playing with my hair and speaking the symbols which continued to flow and the pleasure continued to come.
I’m not certain how long this went on for but when Brandon stopped speaking, it was like the end of a long, uplifting sermon you didn’t want to end.
Brandon stopped playing with my hair and with a sudden movement snatched a fistful and jerked my head harshly towards his cock. I didn’t hesitate in giving him what he wanted, immediately steeping half his thick cock in my mouth. And even at this difficult angle, I did expert work, sucking like a pro. African drums began to play and with them Brandon began to thrust . I gagged for a moment then we were in perfect sync, my bobbing head, his thrusts and the drums.
The rhythm of my lips, his cock and the drum deepened and became some magical and erotic dance and the symbols flowed freely between the three of us and that strange, potent, succulent, pleasure. The rhythm sped up yet seemed to go on and on stretching into infinity, the way most things did in these sensual dreams.
Suddenly, the drums stop and the circuit is completely broken as Brandon pulls out and moves to the end of the bed, climbing on and with no hesitation plunging deeply into me, his cock and my pussy making a sound like a hammer and anvil. The drum beat returns but its different, slower, like a shaman’s drumming yet still in rhythm with Brandon’s thrusts. But then it speeds up, this shaman’s drumbeat, still keeping time with Brandon. My chains fall away and I put my arms around his neck and wrap my legs around his waist and Brandon pounds harder, faster, though again, time slows. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred thousand ages or more, I have no idea how long Brandon fucked me to that steady, rhythmic, sorcerer’s drum.
Finally, the orgasm that had been building since the moon first shone in the night sky breaks free of the dam and cascades over me divulsing me away from the bed and Brandon. I feel myself rushing through space on a thousand mile high tsunami of insane pleasure. The tsunami sends me crashing down into my own bed, shocking me awake, a silent scream of tortured joy locked deep in my throat.
I lay there for long minutes, drenched in so much sweat, I fear some of it may be my own blood. I slowly raise myself and there is no blood, but I desperately needed fluid. My mouth was a dry lake. I stumble into the bathroom, turn on the faucet and guzzle water until I felt pregnant. I shut off the water and stand for a moment, watching the excess liquid drain. I look up and see myself in the mirror and I look like hell. After this last dream, that was no surprise.
I strip and climb in the shower and standing under the deluge, soaping up again and again, praying the act would cleanse me of all evil. But I knew it wasn’t that easy. Brandon wasn’t going to let me go and if the potency of the latest dream was indication, he was very close to winning. I was at my wits end.
I get out of the shower and feel a monstrous hunger upon me. I am usually not big on breakfast, usually a bagel and coffee but now I made pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, toast with jam and I at it all. Every crumb. And after dressing and getting ready for work, I still grabbed a bagel.
I get to the office and today it isn’t business as usual. Ever time I look up, Brandon is watching me. Not in the way of a man interested in a woman. And not in that creepy, potential stalker way some guys do. No he watched me as if he was waiting for something or looking for a some sign. Whenever I caught him looking he didn’t furtively look away. In fact, his gaze intensified, even if he was across the room, looking for something, waiting for something but what?
Lunch rolled around and he approached me.
“Harmony, I’ve cleared your schedule for the rest of the day. Mine too. Come with me.”
I didn’t think about it. I didn’t question it. He hadn’t asked. He had told me what was what with the quiet force of an emperor who would brook no opposition. I sensed that our one sided love affair was coming to an end. I picked up my purse and my briefcase and followed him out. He told me where we were going and told me to take my car. I followed him and half an hour later we pulled into the driveway of his home.
We get inside and I see that its a nice house, tastefully decorated, but clearly a man lived here. There wasn’t a woman’s touch anywhere, unless you counted his cleaning lady, an older Hispanic woman who was clearly surprised to see him. She spoke in Spanish to him and he replied in Spanish and after a moment’s surprise she shrugged, put away her cleaning supplies, grabbed her purse and was gone.
“Come into my office.”
We enter his office and the first thing that jumps out at me is the painting on the wall. Its one of his weird abstracts and its huge, even larger than the main one hanging in his office. I feel that creepy, unsettled feeling again. And I feel myself being drawn to it as I was the day before. Its time to get down to business.
“Okay Brandon, are you ready to admit that you are behind the dream attacks? Are you ready to tell me why you are doing it?”
Brandon takes a seat at his desk and leans back, watching me for a moment.
“Yes, I am behind the dream attacks.”
“You’re seeking to enslave me?”
“Yes.”
“As a sex slave?”
“That’s right.”
“Because I am a redhead?”
“A stacked redhead Harmony.”
“So this is all about some fetish of yours?”
“Mine? No, you are for someone else. I was just preparing you.”
“Preparing me? You’re selling me?”
“Trading you?”
“Trading me for what?”
“Knowledge.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Sit down.”
I do as he says and he he leans forward.
“You’ve heard of Fallen Angels?”
“Of course.”
“I’m trading you to a Fallen Angel.”
I grow angry.
“Bullshit!”
“No bullshit Harmony. You see, fallen angels exist. And if you know how, you can communicate with them. Just as you can commune with being from other dimensions or ghosts. Its simple know how.”
He holds up his hand to stop me from speaking.
“Allow me to finish. Now my interest in metaphysics and the occult is deep. Very deep. I’ve mastered various forms of magic. For communing with angels that be what’s called Enochian Magic. Now you have to be careful. Even banished from this plane of existence, they are dangerous as hell. So angel or demon, god or goddess, I always have a care regarding who I deal with and what they want in exchange for any knowledge they impart.
Understand, that’s all am interested in, knowledge and wisdom. I don’t barter for wealth, or power or sex, or anything of that nature. I can get that on my own. Plus that stuff carries a heavy price and yes, sometimes that price is your soul. But rest assured, there are worse things you can barter for. Much worse. But like I said, I keep it light. No blood sacrifice. No giving up my soul or anyone else’s. I like to do a straight, relatively peaceful, exchange for knowledge.
In this case I am dealing with a fallen angel named Bifrons. He teaches mathematical arts and I have been learning from him over time. Back before he and the rest were banished from the earth plane, he’d fallen in love with a human woman of your general description. Well after striking a bargain with him, from time to time I bring him a woman who looks like you and in exchange he gives me a bit of that mathematical knowledge.
Its worked out very well. He is one of the more reasonable fallen. Hell he has only tried to kill me once in the eight years we’ve been doing business. My fault, let my concentration slip for a moment. Fucker nearly gutted me! But we’ve gotten past that little misunderstanding. I mean sure, I fucked him up with hellfire, which by the way isn’t what you think, in retaliation but we both wanted what only the other could provide too badly to let a little thing like that keep us from doing business.
The dreams mentally and physically prepare you for dealing with a fallen angel. I mean most of the action takes place in their dimension and it can be rough...and a little strange. Once I realized you were fully aware of what I was doing I had to speed up the process before you broke away or called attention to us. I didn’t expect to be at this point for another couple of weeks. But here we are. Any questions?
“Eight years! How many women have you given him?”
“You’ll be number 16.”
“My god!”
“Relax. He doesn’t kill. I told you, I don’t do the sacrifice thing. He won’t kill you. You’ll be purely a sex slave. And no babies. None of that omen shit on my watch. I told him he knocks up even one, the deals off. You’ll even be able to continue your life as normal if you like. Though some have enjoyed what he does so much they make a permanent move to his dimension. Five so far I think.”
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Of course I’m serious. And you’ll see that in just a few moments. Besides, you’re not my type. No human woman is my type. I mean once you have a Devi, succubus, or other other type of celestial pussy, there just isn’t any point. You’ll understand once Bifrons hits it.”
“This is crazy! You’re crazy....”
Again he holds up his hand and cocks his head, listening for something.
“Its time. Stand up.”
I obey and he motions me in from of the painting. The painting starts to glow. Then swirl. Then the beautiful symbols appear. And suddenly there is a voice. A voice so beautiful I want to cry.
“Is she prepared?”
“How long have we been doing business Bifrons? Yes, she is ready.”
“What do you seek in return?”
“Well last time you gave me a mathematical formula that allows unaided travel through space. Worked beautifully. But not when I want to go planet side. I nearly burned to a crisp entering Venus’ atmosphere. You failed to mention that bit.”
The divine voice chuckles and I smile with joy.
“Just a joke Brandon. You can take a joke can’t you?”
“I sure can. Just like you’ll get a hell of a laugh I stop doing business with you. Thought so. I want something that will allow me to survive any environment, no matter how hostile.”
“Done”.
Symbols with a dull glow flow from out of the painting and Brandon waves his hand and they float before him. He examines them intensely for a few moments then grins like a lunatic.
“Oh yes, this is the stuff! Venus, Jupiter, beyond...here I come!”
“Before you leave, shouldn’t we complete the transaction?”
“Hmmmm? Oh yeah!”
Brandon speaks and it sounds like gibberish...dark, nasty, guttural gibberish. And something flows from the painting and takes form. And when the transformation is complete I feel my mind crumble in horror.
The creepy feeling of the painting, the thoughts of Pickman’s Model, it all made sense now. Before me was an indescribable monstrosity. It looked down upon me with an otherworldly lust, nodding its approval. And punctuating that approval with that divine voice;
“You are magnificent. More than any other you remind me of her. We’ll enjoy one another.
I don’t know how long I screamed.