[Exhibitionist] What Dreams May Come

[weshambler]

I got to a bad place in life, and I wasn’t sleeping well anymore. My husband and I were divorced about five years ago, and our boy had left for college, so I decided to move somewhere new, somewhere amazing, and just start over. That was almost a year ago. I had been working a night shift at a hospital, sleeping the whole afternoon and barely ever getting a decent dinner. Living alone in an apartment in the city wasn’t as glamorous as I thought it would be, and I had no time to put on a dress, meet people and enjoy the scene the city had to offer. For me, it was the city and no sex.

I asked one of the doctors at work if she could give me something to help me sleep, and she recommended I try some herbal supplements. I knew a health food place a little ways from my apartment building, a real throwback to the 1960s with tie-dye sheets hanging over the windows and a psychedelic storefront with “Mind & Body” in big letters above it. After a shift that was supposed to end at 6 AM stretched on for another four hours – if you work in a hospital, you’ll know what I mean – I plodded through the door of Mind & Body with my shopping list in hand. I was still wearing my scrubs and must have looked like something the cat wouldn’t bother to drag in.

Inside, the store was like some kind of weird greenhouse: warm but darkly-lit, with lots of huge potted flowers and ferns, as well as some wild vines creeping along the exposed rafters. The shelves were full of imported pottery, brown plastic bottles with hand-written labels, probiotic juice concoctions, and strange, locally-grown vegetables. I stumbled bleary-eyed towards the cash register, but was blocked by a young couple standing in one of the aisles. She was a short-haired platinum blonde in yoga pants and a red sports bra pattering on to her handsome but disinterested boyfriend, who was inspecting some kind of hemp-based bread. I waited for her to get out of the way but she was just oblivious, going on and on about a friend who had screwed her over somehow. Finally, I squeezed by her, and as I brushed past, our eyes met for a moment. She was young and good-looking, fit, never could have had a kid with a body like that, basically living the life I couldn’t lead right now. When she looked at me, what did she see? With a sigh, I pushed on towards the register.

Behind the counter was a real earth-mother type, short, stout and brunette, obviously wearing no bra even though her huge boobs strained against her t-shirt, which had a faded picture of a big cartoon mushroom on it. Since I didn’t want to shout loudly enough to be heard over the platinum blonde, I just handed her my shopping list, which she studied from behind thick glasses. “Having trouble sleeping?”

I just nodded. She stared at me sympathetically for a few seconds, and then replied, “You look like you could pass out right now?”

“Oh I can get to sleep just fine,” I answered with resignation. “The problem is I wake up like two hours later and can’t get back to sleep.”

She tapped a finger against her chin. “Well, I can get you most of the stuff on this list, but I’m not sure it’ll solve your problem. If you’re falling asleep but not staying asleep, you need something that will balance your dream cycle. Tell you what, I’ve got something really good for this. It’s called oneirine.” As her hand dropped to her side, I noticed a tattoo on the inside of her wrist that looked like a pentagram.

I sighed. “Is it expensive?”

She shook her head. “No, we don’t even know what to charge for it. We’re the only place in the city that carries it. We import it from a small grower in South America. If you buy all the rest of this stuff, I’ll throw in five tablets for free so you can try it and see if it helps. It’ll make your dreams so amazing you’re bound to stay asleep. Deal?”

That sounded fine to me, so she rung me up and I made my way out with a cloth bag rattling full of little vials of pills. The platinum blonde and her beau left right before me, so I had to follow her clenched ass, annoying banter and skinny legs out the door. I got in my car and parked in the garage beneath my building, took the elevator up and then stumbled into my apartment. Exhausted, I dropped onto the bed still wearing a t-shirt and panties. I sifted through my bag from Mind & Body. My hand fell on the bottle of oneirine, and I figured, why not? I took one and washed it down with the bottled water on my nightstand. Then I totally passed out.

I always sleep like a log for an hour or two, and I’m sure I did before the dreams started. I was abruptly thrust into vivid, bizarre fantasies, and the whole time I was acutely aware that I was dreaming. At first it was a floating, out-of-body sort of experience, brightly colored lights and a feeling like a gentle breeze over my body. Then I spent a long time going through doors that opened on unexpected places, at the hospital, at my old house, someplace medieval that I don’t think I’ve ever been before. But finally I found myself in a bar, sitting at a table, talking to a girl I didn’t recognize but who I felt as if I knew well. I’d never been in this bar before, but every detail was perfect: the sullen bartender, the sodden barflies, the late afternoon light from the transom, the half-drunk margarita in front of me, the battered counters and the neon signs.

I was so absorbed taking in the room that the girl next to me seemed to notice my distraction. She was a cute little thing, in a dress with shoulder straps that strained to hold up her bosom, salon-curled auburn hair and a freckled nose. She interrupted whatever story she had been telling to ask me, “Hello…? Are you even listening?”

Suddenly I was very much in the moment, sitting in the chair at the table in that bar – it was as real as anything I’ve ever experienced while awake. I became very self-conscious as the girl stared at me expectantly. I didn't even know her name! So I excused myself. “Sorry, I’ve got to visit the ladies room.” Despite her confused protest, I quickly stood and blundered towards the back, and I felt like all eyes in the room were following me. With a glance back at my table, I pushed into the bathroom and then stopped in shock.

In the mirror in front of me, I saw who I was. I was the platinum blonde from the Mind & Body store. As the door swung shut behind me, I just stared at myself in the mirror, mystified. I guessed I was about twenty-five, and my face was caked with too much make-up for a young girl. I wasn’t wearing that sports bra or those yoga pants anymore; I’d traded them in for a tight striped tube dress that really showed off the hours I put in at the gym. I turned my torso a bit to highlight my flat stomach and my protruding chest. This was a girl who was living the life that I thought I would be living when I came to the city, dressing up and going out to drinks with her girlfriends and flirting with the guys. She had the life and the body I wished I could have.

But it was just a dream, and anyway I was in the ladies room, so I reached down to my thighs and pulled the dress up over my head and let it fall on the tile floor. She was wearing a strapless bra underneath to corral her medium-sized boobs, and a pair of panties with “Love Pink” in little letters on the front. I was intensely curious what it was like to have a body like this, so I undid the bra in the back and it dropped to the bathroom floor. I was surprised to see that her boobs weren’t nearly as firm as I would have thought. The left one drooped quite a bit to the side, actually, and studying them in the mirror they looked very asymmetrical. My own areolae were so broad and pale they blended in to the rest of my tits, but hers were dark ovals, angled a bit, with the skin all scrunched up from the coldness of their exposure. I bounced a few times onto my tippy-toes to see her tits jiggle around. They felt light but very sensitive.

In the gap between her skinny legs she was sporting quite the camel toe in those “Love Pink” panties, so I pulled those to the floor as well. Her pussy had been waxed sometime recently, but dark hair was starting to grow back in. Of course she was a bottle blonde. Her lips were very plush, and dipped down quite far between her legs to meet in a very pronounced slit. I was so absorbed in inspecting her body that when I heard the toilet flush and the stall door open behind me, I whirled a bit too late as a balding man emerged from the stall and turned bright red to see me standing totally nude in front of him as he struggled to buckle his belt. It was only then that I saw the two urinals in the corner, and realized that I had made a pretty serious mistake.

But it was just a dream. I laughed as he stared at my nakedness, up and down, occasionally making brief eye contact. I could tell he was trying to guess my intentions, and that paused the hands that had been securing his pants. So I explained, “Oh, sorry, my mistake,” and without bothering to pick anything up off the floor, I purposefully exited the bathroom door and walked back into the bar.

You could have heard a pin drop after I strode back into the main room completely nude, my tits dangling and jostling for all to see. But the silence was broken by a pint glass shattering, dropped by the bartender who was staring at me in shock. He was a young, skinny fellow with dyed black hair, and tattoos that extended from his forearms under his black t-shirt up to his neck. My friend, the girl at my table, gasped and rushed towards me with a jacket to cover me from the gaze of the men the room: the two businessmen with loosened ties downing shots at the bar, the old fat man who looked like he hadn’t left that barstool in a decade, the leather-clad couple in the booth, and of course the bald man peeking his head out of the lavatory behind me, staring at a bare ass I’d never seen.

As my friend approached hissing, “Oh my god, what the hell,” the bartender was clearing his throat and moving towards the pair of us as well. This felt much more real than a dream should ever feel. My friend was saying, “Hello? Hello? Do you know me? It’s me, Marcy.” Suddenly I remembered something of the platinum blonde’s complaints to her boyfriend at Mind & Body earlier, and I reflexively answered back, “Marcy? You told Kacey that I didn’t go to her bridal shower because I was in Vegas that weekend, you b*tch. So you know what?” I bit my lip and extended a pair of middle fingers to her.

Stunned, Marcy let the coat she had been shielding me with drop, and huffed defiantly. “Okay, you fucking crazy sl*t, fine, then, you just do that.” Furiously, she stormed to the table, grabbed her little sparkling purple purse and headed for the door, leaving me alone to defend myself, totally nude, against a room of strangers ogling my bare boobs and pussy.

The tattooed bartender slowly crept toward me from the right, saying in a low voice, “Listen, you can’t be naked here, understand? You’ve had too much to drink. You’ve got to put your clothes back on and go. Your clothes are in the bathroom, right? Why don’t you go get them and get dressed?”

Gleefully, enjoying this dream of humiliating the platinum blonde, I turned my ass to the bartender, bent over a bit and slapped it playfully a few times. “You gonna make me?” But suddenly he leapt to my side and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the bathroom. “Let go of me!” I shrieked. Turning the tables, rather than trying to escape I suddenly clutched the bartender, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his midsection. I tried to smother his face with my boobs. “Let go or I swear to God I will piss all over you!” Staggered under this weight we both flopped onto one of the bar tables, him cursing and me laughing hysterically. I could tell that my spread legs and ass were exposed to the whole room behind me, and looking over my shoulder, I wasn’t surprised to see that the two businessmen were aiming their camera phones right at my pussy, taking pictures or maybe video.

The bartender for his part shouted, though muffled by my boobs, “Get the fuck out of my bar! I could get fired for this! Get off me!”

Feeling bad for him, even though I knew this was just a dream, I conceded, “Fine, carry me out of here and I’ll go.” He grumbled something to the effect of “what the fuck” as he struggled to his feet with me still totally wrapped around his body. What must he be thinking, a naked stranger wrapped around him, with all those customers staring and recording the moment. Shuffling as best as he could while wearing my nude body as an outer garment, he made his way to the back room, pushing open the door. Some kind of alarm went off as he opened it, a soft repeating beep. He closed the door behind him and demanded, “Okay, look, get off me.”

Gently I disentangled myself from his body and stood in front of him totally naked. I put my arms behind my back and clenched my knees together and faced him coyly. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I whispered with saccharine sweetness. “I know I’ve been a bad girl and you deserve to punish me.”

It took a moment for the tattooed bartender to process this, and then he chuckled incredulously, rolling his eyes. “Look, you’re already punishing me, okay? I’m going to be in big trouble.”

I could barely make out his soft words over the beeping of alarm, but I replied in a louder voice. “Well if you’re already in trouble, a little more trouble won’t cost you much, now will it?” I was pleased to see that he couldn’t take his eyes away from body, especially from my bare vagina. I repositioned with my legs apart a bit so he could get a better look at it. “Do bad girls deserve a spanking?” I twisted with my feet in place, gyrating an ass he couldn’t see. From the movement of his Adam’s apple I could tell that this made him swallow a little bit. “Or does a bad girl need to make it up to you with a sincere…” and here I opened my mouth obscenely wide and slathered my tongue slowly over my upper lip “… apology. Or do you need to tie a bad girl up back here and have your way with her?”

That last suggestion clearly broke his will. There were a few crates of booze in the storeroom, and he instantly stripped a bungee cord off of one of them and strode towards me. Silently, I held my wrists together in front of me as he started wrapping the cord around them. I opened my mouth to goad him on a bit more, but he sn*tched a bar rag from his back pocket and stuffed it into my mouth, rendering me mute, with a tasty of whiskey in my mouth. Maybe this was the kind of adventure I’d always wanted in the city. He started giving me some instructions, but I couldn’t hear him over the sound of the alarm, which was growing steadily louder… beep… beep… BEEP.

Then I sat up in my bed, and slapped my alarm clock. In my utter disorientation, it took me a few moments to realize I was back in my apartment. I hadn’t heard my own alarm in weeks, since I always woke up so early that I turned it off. I had just slept for eight full hours, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I could tell it was getting dark from the gray light that seeped in around the edges of my window curtains, almost time for me to get ready for work. Although I felt strange, almost like I was on drugs, I also felt refreshed. I went to the bathroom and turned on the light, and saw myself in the mirror. It was me, in a t-shirt, with a body fifteen years older than that platinum blonde. I had to study myself for some time to really believe it was me.

“What an incredible dream,” I muttered to myself, as if to reinforce that what had just happened was only a dream. It didn’t feel like a dream, it didn’t fade like a dream.

I turned on the shower; it would be a few minutes before the water got warm enough. In the meantime I walked slowly back to my nightstand and picked up the bottle of oneirine. What the hell was this stuff? And where did that girl with the pentagram on her wrist get it? There were four tablets still inside. I laughed at myself a little bit, and felt a little bit scared. It was just a dream, right?

[To be continued, if there is interest]

[Everard]

Can't wait to see the result of the other four!

[weshambler]

During my shift that night at the hospital, I felt so well-rested that it put a real bounce in my step, like I’d finally cut loose a rock that had been chained to my leg for the last year. In the mirror my eyes looked bright, my complexion looked flush; I felt years younger. The shift passed calmly, a rare blessing in my line of work, and in the morning I still felt energetic enough that I decided to hit the gym, for the first time in way too long.

Our hospital is attached to a university campus, and one of the perks of the job is access to college facilities, including the sports center. As I cut across the center quadrangle, carrying an old bag of gym clothes over my shoulder, I ended up walking through a bustling student club fair, where the kids set up booths to advertise activities or political causes. A tent for beer-brewing enthusiasts seemed especially popular. The girls signing up volunteers for an animal shelter also attracted a good crowd.

Towards the end of the path I saw one table being crowded entirely by remarkably attentive guys. The two girls seated at the booth had dyed hair and piercings, and were advertising some kind of new magazine that they intended to contain artistic nude photography of and by the student body. The taller of the two, who had blue hair and was wearing a loose black dress over what appeared to be a fishnet bodysuit, was explaining loudly how they hoped to promote positive body image and reclaim the female image from the male gaze, or something like that. I was so distracted trying to catch the name of the magazine that I literally walked right into someone coming the other way. She was probably twenty years old, with long, raven-black hair and a pale face that looked small and dainty behind her enormous, thick-rimmed owl-like glasses. She was dressed quite conservatively, in a tucked-in Oxford shirt buttoned up all the way and an ankle-length brown skirt, but her clothes couldn’t entirely conceal that she had a very nice body, a thin frame and what looked to be unusually large breasts for someone of her build. Under her left arm she clutched a brace of textbooks; I saw one on organic chemistry. As we jostled each other, she squeaked out a soft apology and pushed the glasses back on her button nose before scurrying on through the fair.

I stopped to watch the girl as she picked her way so meekly through the crowd, her head bowed, dodging all of the vibrant student life around her. Why was a girl that pretty so modest, so introverted? If she took off her glasses and put on a nice dress, she could have any guy she wanted. When she finally stepped out of my sight, I continued on to the gym and got in a good hour of workout. As I sweated through my routine, I thought about how hard I had to work to look good, and how easy it was you were only twenty years old. How could anyone take it for granted?

I arrived at my apartment feeling sore-limbed and dehydrated, but not very sleepy. The oneirine had worked so well the night before that I was impatient to try it again. I reflected a bit on my dream of that bratty girl in the bar, which still seemed remarkably fresh in mind. All of the details were as vivid as my memories of everyday life. Would I have the same kind of dream tonight? As I drank a bottle of water, I took one of the pills and laid myself down in the bed. Although I don’t ordinarily sleep nude, the room felt warm, or maybe I was still hot from my exercise, so I pulled off my gown and laid on top of the sheet, idling running my fingers over my body as I drifted off to sleep.

Once again, I experienced a slow and surreal return to vivid dream consciousness as I passed through a series of strange visions. I was flying over some dense jungle to close in on the ruins of an ancient temple. Then I was a figure on some primitive wall paintings, brightly-colored and moving through scenes of horses and palaces, and there were voices speaking in an unfamiliar language echoing around me. Then I remember pictures of math formulas, which reminded me of something I had memorized once, before my eyes opened and I found myself sitting at a desk, in a library. At first I felt drowsy, like I had been dozing off. Looking down at my lap, at the locks of raven-black hair, the bulge of bosom under that button-down white shirt and the smooth brown dress below, I knew immediately who I was.

So the oneirine makes you dream about people you meet during the day, I concluded. I remember a doctor telling me once that elements of people’s dreams can be traced back to events of the previous day. As I got my bearings, I suddenly felt very physically uncomfortable, and it took me a moment to realize why. This girl’s clothes were far more constricting than I imagined. She was wearing a very tight bra to try to make her breasts less prominent, but nature had blessed her with such a large chest that she had to squeeze herself into basically a tourniquet to keep them it under control. I could feel as well that she was wearing tight, thick hose under that long skirt, and a slip underneath her Oxford shirt. I might as well be dressed for a Victorian costume party.

Looking around the room, I saw a few other young men and women immersed in study at tables and couches, with more browsing racks of periodicals or searching the stacks for books. I really wanted to get rid of a few layers of these clothes, and since this was just a dream, I could have just peeled them off right there and then if I wanted to. I remembered my dream of the night before, though, and how quickly things had come to an end once I stood out in a crowd. I decided to take things a bit slower this time and see where they led. I rose from my seat, collected my books, and started walking towards the exit. Surely the girl had a dorm room somewhere, where I could have some privacy and figure out what to do with this dream. If I had a day to be in this girl’s body, what would be the best way to spend it? Now that was an intriguing question. As I crossed to the library lobby, I realized that the skirt itself was so confining that I could barely take a full stride, which explained how meekly the girl walked. Why did she do this to herself?

Right as I was about to exit the building, and start trying to find my way to her dorm, I saw a familiar face. It was the tall, blue-haired girl I had seen this morning advertising her new photography magazine. This seemed like more than just a coincidence, this was the dream offering me a direction. The blue-haired girl was about to pass me by without so much as a glance when I cleared my throat and said, “Hey, excuse me?”

The blue-haired girl paused at the library entrance and studied me briefly. “Hey, yeah, we had that art history class together last year, didn’t we? You’re Janine, right?”

Of course I had no idea what my name was, but that sounded like as good a name as any. “That’s right. I don’t know if we ever actually met though…?”

Amicably enough, the blue-haired girl replied, “Probably not, no, I don’t do formal introductions much these days. I’m Cassandra. What’s up?”

“Well,” I began, “I heard about your new magazine project, what did you call it?”

“Studious Bodies,” Cassandra replied, and then impatiently added, “and yes, I know that not all women on this campus think this project is helping the feminist cause, but I’ve already met with the liaison for the—“

“No, no,” I quickly interrupted her. “I’m not complaining about it. I wanted to volunteer.” Cassandra just looked at me quizzically, so I went on. “To be in it.” She still didn’t seem to get it. “To model, I mean.”

“You seriously want to model for our magazine,” Cassandra finally responded, wonder-struck. “You understand it’s like, artistic nudity, right?” When I nodded eagerly, she cautiously proceeded, “I mean, great, that would be great, we really haven’t gotten that many women on board yet. Thanks, really.” She warmed up visibly and laughed to herself a bit. “Well, let’s schedule a time to get together and talk—“

Again I interrupted her. “How about now?”

Cassandra was taken aback. “Like right this second? You want to take the actual pictures now? I was about to, um.”

“Listen,” I butted in firmly, though I felt like I could barely breathe in this corset of a bra the girl was wearing. “Right now, I’ve got the nerve to do this. Right now, I’m dying to get out of my clothes and get in front of your camera. Right now, I feel like this is destiny. I might come to my senses tomorrow. So yeah, I’d say treat this like it’s now or never.”

Cassandra’s brow furrowed a bit at this, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “All right. If it’s now or never, then it’s now. I’ve got a camera in my bag here. Oh.” She pulled out a stack of papers from which she removed a single sheet. “You need to sign this. Model release.” I took the paper along with a pen and signed something on the dotted line that began with a “J” and then just went into scribbles. Cassandra asked, “Do you want to come back with me to the art building, maybe?”

I shrugged. “Whatever you think would make the best picture for the magazine.” Then I abruptly recalled that this was just a dream; everything about it was so convincing, and just seemed so real, that I’d momentarily forgotten I was dreaming. So why not shoot a bit higher? So I asked her, “Hey, what were you planning for the cover of the first issue?”

“For the cover?” Cassandra shot back. “Oh wow. I did have something in mind for that, yes, but I haven’t found anyone to do it yet. I’m not sure I will, it’s pretty over the top.” I just smiled at her. Looking guarded but optimistic, she continued, “Okay, you know the main entrance of campus, where the big sign is? I want someone totally naked in front of it, shot from the other side of the road where the stores are. I want this to be showing the boundary between the things we’re free to do on campus and the normal world outside, you know?”

“That sounds really cool,” I replied coyly. “I see why you’re not finding anyone to do it, though. I mean, all the people walking by those stores, all the cars, it sounds pretty risky.”

From my tone, Cassandra could tell that I was just daring her to ask me to do it. So she took a step back and inquired, “Janine, have you ever modeled nude before?”

“No,” I admitted, and I felt pretty confident it was true.

“Have you ever even been nude outside, like sunbathing or anything before?”

“No,” I answered, again quite certain this girl was not the type.

Cassandra took a deep breath. “Look. Why don’t we try something simple around here.”

She clearly wanted me to prove myself, so I replied. “I’m game, you’ll see. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Cassandra scanned the surrounding area. “Why don’t we head to that parking lot on the other side of the library.” I obligingly followed her as she started down the sidewalk, occasionally shooting back at me glances which still showed considerable confusion and doubt. “Janine, I really didn’t know you went in for this kind of thing. The chemistry department must be a lot crazier than I thought.”

I smiled deferentially. “Maybe it’s just me.”

“Seriously,” Cassandra replied with feeling. “Okay.” She stopped near a few squat trees that lined the walkway between the expanses of the parking lot and the red brick façade of the library. “There aren’t a lot of people around here, but we can still get a great shot of the library and the administration building back there. Something that shows nudity in the campus setting. If you’re up for it, why don’t you get undressed right here.” She blew a tuft of blue hair out of her mouth and looked at me expectantly, still unsure how far I was willing to go.

I surveyed the area. There were a few guys winding their way through the parking lot, a couple holding hands walking down the same path we were on, and of course many library windows overlooking our position, some of which probably had whole classes within. But after spending the last fifteen minutes wrapped up like a burn victim, it was pure relief to start undoing the buttons of the shirt. When I got the shirt off, I discovered the slip underneath that could only be removed if I undid the skirt first. This girl was sealed off like a bank vault! After a brief search I found the fastener to undo at the hip, and then pulled down the long zipper; finally the brown skirt dropped to the ground. That let me pull the slip up over my head, finally revealing that torturous, oversized white sports bra that bound my breasts so tightly. Before I dealt with that, I noticed that the pantyhose I was wearing rode all the way up past my belly button. So I unbuckled her plain black shoes and stepped out of them before pulling down the hose, which finally revealed a pair of bland white underpants that certainly were not chosen for their sex appeal.

It was then that I began to hear a series of clicks coming from Cassandra’s camera, as I stood in my oversize bra and panties trying to stuff the clothes I had removed so far into my study bag. I then set the bag at Cassanda’s feet and took a few steps back, doing my best to pose as a model would. I put a hand on my hip and tried to pout a bit. Then I realized I was still wearing those glasses, so with some trepidation I removed them. The world grew considerably blurrier, so much so that I probably wouldn’t be able to read, but I could walk around without difficulty. I tucked one arm of the glasses into my panties, and tried to look as seductive as I could. Cassandra muttered to herself, “Unbelievable,” as she snapped away. The couple I had seen walking by passed us then without comment, but at the edge of earshot, I heard the guy ask the girl, “Don’t you know her?”

“Okay,” Cassandra admitted as she held her camera to the side, “so you’ve definitely got the guts to do this.”

“But I’m not even naked yet,” I protested, as I grabbed two handfuls of the sports bra and began to wiggle and struggle to pull it over my breasts. How this girl packed her bosom into this thing was absolutely beyond me. I heard Cassandra’s camera clicking again and again as I grunted and strained and finally, after deeply exhaling to make my chest as slender as possible, succeeded in yanking the thing over my head. Down flopped a pair of huge breasts, with large-pointed nipples on the end: the sorts of nipples that almost look like squat tubes. The nipples turned down slightly under the sheer gravity of my boobs, but they were still quite bouncy and buoyant. Crumpling the bra in my fist, I proclaimed, “I hate this thing,” and then with spontaneity I hurled it up into a tree, where it caught on a high branch and dangled there. Cassandra giggled joyfully as she captured action shots of this occurrence, panting, “Oh my god that’s so perfect. I can tell you really needed this!”

Seizing the momentum, I then whisked down those white granny-panties. This revealed a plush, raven-black bush underneath. I also noticed as the panties fell to the ground that she wore a panty shield, even though she wasn’t on her period. It looked like my natural wetness had left a visible stain in the shield, so perhaps this girl was just really serious about keeping her panties clean. I collected the underwear along with my glasses and crammed them into my study bag. I was now completely naked, barefoot, on the sidewalk behind the library, doing my best to pose dramatically, spinning, bouncing on my tippy toes, reaching up for branches of the trees, while Cassandra snapped away all the time. Now that those boobs were unleashed, I was determined to give them some fresh air, so I twisted and jumped to really fling them around a bit; though it was hard on my back and after a minute or two of strenuous activity, I found my boobs began to get a bit sore too. That was minor, though—I don’t know that I’ve ever felt more liberated doing anything in real life. About twenty feet behind her, I saw that we had some new guests, a couple of guys who were watching the scene from there. Without my glasses, I couldn’t quite make out their faces, though. Maybe they didn’t even have faces, in a dream like this.

“Okay Cassandra,” I said, feeling completely exhilarated and almost dizzy, “Like I said, now or never. Let’s shoot that cover.”

Cassandra was pulling at her own black dress, fanning herself like she was overheating. The fishnet bodysuit she was wearing underneath was thoroughly ventilated, so the heat must be coming from inside. “Cover? You’re going to end up with your own whole issue here. The Janine special. But omg, yes, let’s shoot a cover. What are you going to wear for the walk?”

I just smiled at her. It was mid-afternoon and warm, a bit cloudy but still bright in patches. I knew the campus well, and the walk to that intersection couldn’t be more than ten minutes.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Cassandra objected, understanding my intention. “Campus safety might stop us. A lot of guys will be bugging you.”

I pointed behind her. “There’s already like eight guys back there.” At that Cassandra spun around and glimpsed the size of our audience. I couldn’t see well enough to know if any of the windows concealed other observers, but it seemed likely enough.

“Here, Janine,” Cassandra said hurriedly, rummaging through her own bag. “Put on this smock, at least.” She withdrew a garment that was little more than an apron, sprinkled with paint spatters, that would certainly cover me only from the front. I clapped excitedly as I quickly strapped it on. Cassandra changed the roll of film in her camera, and only then did I notice it was a real antique, probably only shooting black and white through a grainy lens. When she looked back up, and saw how little of my modesty the apron preserved, she groaned to herself. My large breasts spilled out from the sides, exposing a nipple if I made even the slightest twist or bounce. “Maybe fold your arms?” she suggested hopefully.

“Let’s go, where’s your sense of adventure?” I countered.

With that, we were underway. We walked right past the crowd of onlookers, which had now grown to around a dozen. As I got closer I could blurrily make out that Cassandra wasn’t the only one with a camera. She bluntly told them, “Show’s over, go home guys, if you want porn go on the Internet.” As I went by, however, there was clearly a bit more of a show, as everyone turned to study my bare backside. I don’t know how my butt looked, but I heard a few exclamations of “God damn” and such that sounded encouraging. No one closely followed us, and in a minute or so we blended into campus pedestrian traffic as we skirted the dormitories. I slung by study bag around my neck, and that helped hold the apron in place as long as I kept my arms folded to prevent my boobs from spilling out the sides. This did however wrap the thin fabric of the apron taut enough around my large, bouncing breasts that I might as well have been topless. But this was a campus, and no one made cat-calls or bothered us, even if we got a few reserved glances from fellow students. I was wearing an artist’s apron, people must have assumed this was about some kind of art project, which after all wasn’t far from the truth. You see stranger things at college.

When we finally reached the main driveway, the pavement was scalding on my bare feet. The sun had broken out from behind the clouds and was shining down hard on us. There was a slight breeze tugging at the apron which surely revealed my butt to anyone behind us, and might with only slightly more force reveal my bush as well. As I saw the main entrance, I realized just how public a place this was. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper through the intersection there, and across the street was a bar, a laundromat, a convenience store, a fast-food joint. Ten or twenty pedestrians, none of them looking much like students, were within sight at any given moment. I could see why Cassandra despaired of getting anyone willing to do this shot.

Her voice hoarse, Cassandra offered me another out. “You sure you’re up for this? It’s totally cool if you want to do it another time or something.”

“Are you sure you are up for it, huh?” I challenged defiantly. I set my study bag down behind the big sign at the entrance.

She looked nervous, sweaty, fidgety — but she was not going to pass up this chance. “Okay, let’s do this, but first. Um. I just wanted to say this has been really amazing. You’re really amazing. Thanks so much for this. And I really love your natural look, it’s really hot.”

Still concealed behind the sign, I took off the smock and set it down on the ground. Once again I was totally naked in front of blue-haired Cassandra. She paused there for a moment, so I extended my arms to her, offering a hug. She practically lunged into my arms and clutched my nude body against her. The fishnet felt scratchy against my bare skin. After a moment, she whispered in my ear, “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

“Sure,” I replied, and we lightly kissed a couple times, just for a few seconds, pretty chastely, before I released her and she let her hands sweep across my bare skin and then fall to her sides. Cassandra if anything now appeared even more flustered, but I got her back on track. “Now or never. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

I took her hand and we walked out from behind the sign and right up to the intersection. I tried not to think about all of the people in cars who were undoubtedly looking at me right now, but one thing I couldn’t miss was the bus stop: one of those two-segment buses had pulled up not ten feet from where we were standing, and passengers were busily making their way on and off the bus. The sudden appearance of a nude woman immediately began to cause congestion at the bus doors.

“Start shooting,” I ordered Cassandra, who promptly raised her camera and began taking pictures. I stood in front of the campus sign with one hand on my hip and the other raised high above my head, as if to say, “here’s how we live at this college, totally nude!” I was aware that onlookers were gathering, that passers-by were going out of their way to avoid blocking the shot, that cars were pausing at a green light, but I knew I had to stay focused.

“I’m going into the intersection,” Cassandra shouted, and I nodded as she hurried back to get a wider shot. For variety’s sake, I turned my butt to her, spread my legs, bent over with an arched back and then twisted my torso to give a thumbs-up in her direction. I figured that would show off my boobs, my ass and my hairy pussy in a pretty pornographic way, and a few hoots I heard from our spectators confirmed that. The feminist in her would appreciate the irony of the shot. Finally, I reverted back to my more artistic full-frontal pose, which she photographed for another good while as traffic built up, horns blared, people across the street stood and stared, and the reality of the situation impressed itself on me inescapably.

“This just seems totally real,” I said to myself. Cassandra could tell that I was done posing, so she scampered up to me and took my hand, leading me back behind the college sign.

“Are you okay?” she asked with some concern, palming my cheek. “Oh shit, the smock.” I saw that the breeze had already carried Cassandra’s apron away, tumbling gracelessly across the front lawn.

“Never mind that,” I said. “Listen, Cassandra, do me a favor. Do you have a phone?” Before she could answer, I started over. “No wait, I just need a quarter. I’m sure I have one in here.” Looting through my study bag, I grabbed a handful of coins. “Just stay here for a minute, I’ll be right back. Okay? Watch my stuff.”

“Where are you going?” Cassandra exclaimed with some concern.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I’ll be right back. I just need to do something.”

“Don’t get arrested!” she hissed. With that, I left Cassandra behind the college sign as I walked back out into view. The crowd had only just begun to disperse when my nude reappearance stopped everyone in their tracks. I walked purposefully towards the street, ignoring the silent onlookers, and then threading my way between the stopped cars blocking the road. I had to step carefully, as the asphalt on the street was in terrible shape, and there were plenty of sharp rocks. A woman rolled up her SUV’s window as I went by. Finally, I made it to the opposite sidewalk, and entered the laudromat. It was deserted, but as I expected, there was an old payphone on the wall.

“This just feels too real,” I repeated to myself as I started feeding coins into the payphone. My eyesight was too poor to read the keypad, but I knew which keys to press. I was dialing a very familiar number. A few men had stopped at the window outside to gawk at me. I pressed the receiver up my ear. I heard the phone ring once on the other side. Ring. Ring. RING.

And I woke up, then, as the cell phone next to my bedstand vibrated and rang. The transition from being that naked girl in the laudromat to lying in my bed was instantaneous and very disorienting. It even seemed like my eyes had to adjust to the darkness. My hand leapt to the phone to pick it up, but just then, the ringing stopped. I let my hand linger on the phone for a moment, but it was still. Whoever was calling, I guess they had hung up. The caller number read “Unknown.”

I sat there in bed for fifteen minutes just thinking it all over, shaking a bit from the intensity of the experience. It was a dream. There wasn’t really a girl right now on the other side of town who suddenly found herself naked in a laudromat. The ringing phone was a part of my dream because my phone had started ringing, not the other way around. This oneirine was very effective, I’d slept another seven hours, but maybe having dreams this vivid was a bit too much for me to handle. My sex-starved subsconscious must be bursting at the seams. Even if it was just a dream, could I handle many more dreams like that? Did I need a shrink?

And what if I was wrong. What if somehow, for reasons I couldn’t begin to explain, there was a slender, pale, raven-haired girl with large breasts nude right now in that laudromat? Would she remember how she got there? Would she find her way back to Cassandra? And what would she make of this? Would this be the worst day in her life—or would it be the best? Would she think what happened to her was demonic possession—or was I her guardian angel?

I guess I could wait to see the first issue of Studious Bodies, that might clear things up. Maybe there’d be something in the news about it, even. But maybe there was a better way to find out. Maybe the next time I took oneirine, I could do something much more decisive than just placing a phone call. Then I’d know for sure if this was real or not. But it would take a cunning plan.

I started formulating a plan, but first, I had to deal with something more pressing. I reached into the second drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the vibrator. If I didn’t take care of this first, I wasn’t going to be able to think straight. I had another hour or so before I needed to get ready for work, and I was going to need every minute.