other creative writing A Dream to Remember

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Day 1 of the nightmares.

It's been a while since I've written a journal, but I think I'm going to need one for quite a while. My therapist claims I've been making things up all along, but this week has been severe enough that I know what's going on. 

It began on my eighteenth birthday, the very first night. After a small celebration of close friends, I had decided I was going to go to sleep early as a last gift to myself. The moment I lost consciousness, I found myself in what I had initially thought to be Hell. A barren, desolate wasteland, with nothing but a blood red sky. I called out to the wind, attempting to find any trace of anyone else who had been there. There were no footprints save for mine. No voices except the echoes of my screams. I was truly alone.

And then I saw her. That pale faced maiden, floating in mid-air. She wore an incredibly worn, practically torn-to-pieces white gown. At least, it was white in some spots. Almost everything else was bloodred. I had called out to the woman from a distance, asking if she had any idea where we were, or what was going on. No response. I took a step closer, shouting louder. The same result. I would repeat this until I was within arm's reach of her before noticing something I should have long before.

The woman had no eyes, and instead was bleeding from her eye sockets. 

By the time it had fully registered what was going on, she had turned to face me, bony blood-covered hands around my neck. I attempted to move, to break free, but her grip was that of iron, and my efforts were futile. Her fingernails dug into my arteries, and I could feel my blood being drained. I quickly found myself fully unable to move, as if losing any amount of blood made me a statue in her hands. It was only a dream, yet it felt so real, so painful.  With each gush of blood I could feel flowing out of me, her body seemed to be gaining flesh, returning to a somewhat normal looking state. As her eyes began to form... Those piercing red eyes, she told me exactly one thing...

"About time someone paid tribute..."

It was then that I woke up screaming, finally able to move again. 7:00 AM, on the dot. Suspiciously accurate. I remember going to the bathroom and brushing my teeth, seeing scars on my neck in the mirror. Four on one side, four on the other, all about the size of fingernails. Nobody believed me when I told them about the dream. They all assumed I tried to kill myself. Whoever or whatever this thing is, they're not the dream I thought they were. Just last night she had taken more, this time from my arm, leaving a mark of a heart... 

I don't know what to do, nor who to trust with this information. Until I find someone, I will simply document my findings until I am freed of this ridiculous nightmare, or go crazy trying. It's been 5 years now, and the dreams have only been more vivid, more colorful.

What have I gotten myself into?

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Entry 2: A new development.

The nightmare has grown in complexity. The woman's eyes are no longer bleeding, but are a fair shade of blue. It seems small bat-like wings protrude from her head, and her hair has taken a crimson hue. When I arrived in the dream this time, it seems she was changing her clothes into less blood-stained ones, which I suppose is fair. She stood before me, completely nude, while a grin appeared on her face, revealing a set of razor sharp fangs. "Your offerings have restored my body, but I'll need more than blood to regain my powers, or to break free... My name is Camille." 

The name instantly clicked, for I had remembered reading about named demons in middle school, back when I tried getting into Dungeons and Dragons as a DM. Camille was a demon that absorbed the life energy of her victims, more often than not males, through their dreams, as she was unable to take physical form. She supposedly had been sealed in a dream prison for fifty thousand years, and from the looks of it, I had been the dumbass to free her from it. As she explained her plight to me, it became increasingly evident that the only way I would be free was to give her enough energy for her to take physical form. But how?

"I'll let you decide whether or not you want to be free of your 'curse' and just give you a parting gift... My kiss." 

The moment Camille's lips touched mine, a rush of excessively lewd ideas flooded my mind, and when I woke up, my bed was covered in condoms somehow. Odd. I would have guessed a demon would prefer unprotected sex, but very well. I'm now trying to decide if I should let her be free upon the world, or suffer for the rest of my days to keep her from escaping... What to do...

 

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Day 3: Pondering Choices

This demon in my dreams, who's name is actually Camille after all this time... She's backed off a bit in her harvests, only taking what she needs to survive, yet enough to remind me that she's there.  I'm not sure whether to accept her deal, to help free her from the accidental prison of my mind. She reminds me of an old babysitter I used to know that I had a crush on when I was about six or so. Then again, maybe she picked that form just to curry favor with me. When I brought it up with her, she simply chuckled and shrugged, as if she herself had no idea about it. I find that possibility to be bullshit, unless she never knows what she looks like to other men. Surely she knows the physical changes somewhat, right? Maybe tonight I'll try messing with her, like trying to think lewdly of a different body type and see if she changes her form to match it. After all, no matter my choice, she is still stuck in my dreams for now.

 

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Day 4: A Test of Two Theories

The moment I entered the dream, I was met with a drastic change in scenery. What had first been a desolate wasteland had now been changed into what seemed to be a master bedroom of sorts. Interesting. Perhaps Camille is able to manipulate parts of the Dream Realm while I am awake. To make things all the more interesting, Camille herself was laying on the bed with merely lingerie on, her body glistening in the candlelight. Which was odd, as I didn't see any candles until I saw her. Naturally, I felt a mighty need to make a snide comment.

"Well then, I guess a dream really can be too hot to handle, eh?" I'd remark, the usual asshole grin on my face as I sat next to her, quickly pushed off the bed. "Oh, please. Your thoughts echo through my prison every time you are awake. Your idea is certainly interesting, and I'd love to help test it... On one condition. You will let me find out if human semen can still sate me."

By the time I had gotten up, she had already explained most of her plan, the entirety of which simply baffled me. I was to give her my cum to find out if I could alter her appearance? I mean, she was the one who could potentially kill me from her "harvests" if she so pleased, but at the same time, if she did so, she ran the severe risk of being unable to free herself. She needed me alive, that much was certain. As such, I could have just declined and left the dream then and there. So why didn't I? Why did I do what I did that time?

Why had I agreed to this ludicrous plan?

"I'm able to change things in this world while you are awake, except for you. I can make you stay still, though that's about it when it comes to controlling you. You'll notice that you can't move off the bed, and that I can control one very important thing: your erection." I had to give her credit for taking my clothes off so quickly without tearing them, even for a dream. Hell, she took them off faster than I ever had. If only she hadn't been using her newfound cock control to constantly change my dick from erect to limp over and over. It was not only annoying and embarrassing, but surprisingly tiring. I think I might have even yawned for a moment. She was not a fan of that. With a snap of her fingers, her bra would vanish, leaving her roughly D cup breasts to hang about freely. "Well? Try to make them bigger, I'll even reward ya if you can." she taunted, fondling both of them with an evil grin. And with that, I would close my eyes, thinking of the one time I had watched the swim team back in college, that one girl who was an incredibly fast swimmer, but had massive tits... Those things must have been at least an F cup... Before long, I heard a yelp from Camille, followed by a gasp of what was a mix of surprise and pain. Once I opened my eyes, I was met with what was most certainly not the same Camille I had seen before closing my eyes. Her chest, which was by no means small beforehand, had now become quite a bit bigger, as if this was some strange hentai of sorts.

"H-Holy shit, you actually changed my body! How'd you pull that off?" she would exclaim in disbelief, as if she had banked on my failure. As usual.

"Yeah, looks like... Guess your little reward will have to be cashed in now." was the only response I could think of, which did not bode well with her. Out of what I can only assume was anger, and possibly an attempt to correct the now inconsistent sizing, Camille would snap her fingers, and my member would not only remain upright, stiff as a pole, but would forcibly increase in size, a sharp gasp escaping my mouth this time as I was forced to become larger than my body originally had been capable of. "Now you should be the right size for me to properly... reward you." 

Before I could inquire any further, I was frozen in place again, only able to watch as Camille moved herself to allow my cock to rest between her newly enlarged mounds. Her hands would press the two together, sandwiching my member between them as she grinned, the tip not only still visible but close enough for her to put in in her mouth. In all my years of being alone, nothing at all had ever felt as good as the feeling I experienced when she began to move her chest up and down, her forked tongue lapping a- Wait. Forked tongue? I wasn't being deceived, Camille not only had a forked tongue, but it was now rather loosely wrapped around my length, flicking at my balls occasionally. After what felt like an eternity of twisted pleasure, her tongue would retreat into her mouth, where it swirled around my tip mercilessly between bobs. It was simply too much for my inexperienced body, and I felt myself hopelessly cumming into her mouth, feeling her gulp every last drop down.

A minute passed. One became two, and three. After what felt like five minutes of silence and inactivity, Camille's wings would spread out, seeming to be charged with electricity of some sort. Her eyes would flash open, a glowing orange as she laughed.  "Oh my... your cum is so nutritious... I'd say one more load like that and I'll easily be able to free myself... Here's your reward for being such a good food source." She remarked, her voice now dozens of times more seductive. It seemed that having as much power as she did only served to improve her situation, and she quickly gripped my balls. A surge of some soft of energy began coursing into them, and by the time she had let go, they were now much heavier than before, more suited to the size of my rod that had also been modified. "If you weren't so close to waking up, i'd gladly take more..." she would whisper, my vision fading into white as my actual self began waking up.

...

It was a strange morning, to say the least. There were slight specks of jizz on my blankets, which was odd, considering how little there was. On top of that, upon initial investigation, the modifications Camille had made to my body were very much permanent, a situation that I fear may spiral beyond my control if I cannot find a way to stop her. If she breaks free so quickly, who knows what she will be able to do in the real world, what horrors she may commit? I need to find a way to reseal her, or force her to obey my command... Or, if all else fails, I may have to kill a demon from my dreams...