Donna stumbled out of her bedroom, rubbing sleep blearily out of her deep brown eyes. She wandered into the kitchen in a daze, her long dark hair a tangled bird's nest that stuck straight up in some spots and hung down in front of her face in others, and went straight to the fridge without even acknowledging her roommate's presence. She reached in and grabbed an energy drink before slumping down at the small round table and draining the whole thing in one long, glugging swig. Then, finally, she slumped over and put her face in her hands, waiting for the caffeine to restore her to some semblance of vitality.

"Rough night?" Jill asked, eyeing her roommate sympathetically. She gave the eggs one last stir and took them off the heat before heading over to the table and giving Donna's shoulder a squeeze. "Can't have been a wild one, you were asleep before I was." The warmth of her hand soaked through the thin fabric of the oversized Psylocke t-shirt Donna used as a nightgown. It felt good, especially in the early morning chill--their building's overzealous AC blasted freezing air into the apartment all night long--but it also felt a little weird at the moment. Donna suppressed an urge to shrug it off.

Instead, she turned her head a little to fix Jill with a groggy stare, so tired that her friend and roommate looked like a vague pink blur with a vague blonde blur on top of it. "It was awful. I was having the weirdest dreams, I must have been tossing and turning all night... I am sore in places I didn't even know existed." Donna winced internally, wishing she could rewind the words back into her mouth. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about the dreams she'd been having, especially not with them still so fresh in her head. What she really wanted to do was turn around and go right back into her room and fall face-first onto her bed, but she knew Jill too well to imagine that her friend was going to let it go now.

Sure enough, Jill said, "What sort of dreams?" Once a Psych student, always a Psych student, even if Jill had changed to... what was it this year? Computer science? Honestly, it was like her roomie thought they had a 'tenth major is free' program down at the career advisor's office or something. At this rate, she'd probably be thirty before she hit grad school. Donna might be headed towards an English Lit degree that was barely worth the paper it was printed on, but at least she'd be finished with it next semester.

Always assuming she didn't die of embarrassment right here in the kitchen. "Oh, you know, just... dreams," she muttered, hiding her face in her hands again in a vain attempt to hide her blush. She wished she'd inherited a little more of her mother's golden skin tones; right now, Donna knew that her face had to be more red than fawn-colored. "Weird dreams. I don't even really remember them all," she added quickly, in a vain attempt to repair the damage her obvious reaction had done.

Jill sat down briskly next to her, eggs entirely forgotten. "So we're talking sexual dreams, then," she said, plowing forward as though embarrassment was something that happened to other people. Which was kind of true--Donna had never known Jill to be the slightest bit shy about discussing her orientation, her activities, or her interests in the bedroom. It was even kind of hot to hear about it all sometimes, in a way that Donna had no intention of ever admitting to any other human being even under torture. But it did mean that nothing short of a full-blown angry outburst would get her to drop her line of questioning, and Donna barely had the energy to sit in a chair without slumping over let alone have a confrontation with her nosy friend. "What kind?"

With a sigh of defeat, she looked back up at Jill, wishing she didn't feel quite so much like an interesting test subject under those bright blue eyes. "I... it's all tangled up," Donna mumbled, her gaze going a tiny bit distant as she tried to summon back the wisps of a dream that seemed so tangible just a few minutes ago. "I, we were talking, and you were telling me that you'd made a new app for your phone? As, like, a computer science project? Which, I mean, classes haven't even started yet, but you were really insistent that it was, like, an extra credit thing for a summer learning league or something. I know," Donna added in response to Jill's quizzical look, "but it's a dream. It doesn't have to make sense." 

"No, it's not that," Jill replied, her hand once again pressing reassuringly into Donna's shoulder. "I'm just surprised it was about me, that's all. You know, because...." The rest of the sentence hung awkwardly in the air, air that Donna thought they'd cleared before they even moved in together. Jill knew that Donna was straight, and Donna knew that Jill was anything but, and Donna had made it politely but firmly clear that Jill wasn't going to change that no matter how much fun she made lesbian sex sound. And Jill had accepted that. With the occasional comment that the offer always remained open if Donna ever wanted to broaden her horizons a little, perhaps, but she had.

And now Donna was teetering on the precipice of describing an uncomfortably hot dream that involved the two of them. Was that sending mixed signals? Donna wished more than ever that she hadn't brought it up, especially not in the early morning when it was just the two of them and Jill didn't have anything on but a pair of panties. (Donna had no idea how her roommate stayed comfortable with the AC blasting away the way it did, even with an extra layer of fat insulating her plump, curvy body; judging by the tight, stiff and inescapably obvious nipples that capped her ample breasts, she had to be feeling the cold.) Donna should probably just apologize for bringing up an awkward topic and head back to her room.

But she didn't. "No, I know," Donna said, the need to share overwhelming any sense of embarrassment she felt. "But in the dream, it was like I couldn't help myself. I opened up the app on your phone, and it was... it was like this weird strobe light thing smacking right into my eyeballs, and I couldn't look away. I could hear you telling me that you'd invented an inescapable hypnosis program, and you were going to, um... to use it to make me into your, um, your lover... and I knew right away that it was really going to work. The way you just know stuff in dreams."

Donna could feel her face flushing hotter, as if every detail she didn't mention was written on her bright red cheeks. The way that Jill's voice sounded, soft and sweet and honeyed with the promise of ecstasy to come. The tingling throb between Donna's thighs that distracted her every time she thought she'd summoned up the willpower to break the screen's hold on her increasingly drowsy mind. The word 'fucktoy' instead of lover, purred into Donna's ears with the hungry triumph of a woman who'd spent years dreaming of this exact moment. It all came back to her in a rush of hot, squirmy pleasure that made Donna uncomfortably aware of a liquid warmth clinging to her labia and soaking into her panties.

And Jill wasn't helping. "That's not an uncommon fantasy," she said sympathetically, leaning in a little bit closer in what Donna was almost certain was intended as a comforting gesture. "It's a way for the unconscious mind to process desires and fixations that the waking self isn't quite ready to deal with yet. Because you're 'hypnotized'--in the dream, I mean--you're not responsible for the feelings you're experiencing. You don't have to accept them as conscious, deliberate intentions on your part; it's all just something I'm doing to you, and you can enjoy the way it makes you feel without guilt or confusion." She paused, swallowing hard as the phrasing she'd used finally caught up with her. "Again, in the dream."

Donna shook her head in a gesture that was half-denial, half-confusion. "But I... it seemed so real," she said distantly, her mind lost in recollection. She could practically see the pulsing, strobing light inside her head, pumping a million different signals at once through her overwhelmed optic nerve until they ran together in a stream of brilliant colors that she couldn't stop staring at. "It didn't feel like something I wanted, it felt like... like something I was being made to want. Like you were putting it into my brain and I didn't know how to say 'no' anymore."

Jill chuckled patronizingly. "That's just the way dream logic works," she cooed gently, her hand stroking down Donna's back in a warm, comforting gesture that nonetheless stirred memories that the dark-haired woman knew couldn't be real. "You couldn't say no because deep down, you didn't really want to say no. You wanted to explore the experience that your subconscious mind was offering to you, and it manifested in the dream as an irresistible urge to be turned into my... my lover." The knowing pause set off a warning signal in Donna's brain, but she was so groggy and Jill's touch felt so good that it slipped out of her consciousness almost instantly.

"But I... I don't," Donna mewled plaintively, all too aware of the lack of force behind her words. Her thoughts felt slow and sludgy, as though she'd accidentally swallowed NyQuil instead of Red Bull, and the throb between her thighs had gotten far too loud to ignore. "I, I don't want to, um... to explore anything, it was just a weird dream I had. It doesn't mean I w-want to, to be bent over the edge of the sofa and--" Donna broke off, her whole body now feverish with a tangled mix of arousal and embarrassment. "Um," she finished awkwardly, trying to find a way to end the sentence that didn't involve describing what dream-Jill had done to her and seeing only a sheer cliff dropping away into a chasm of humiliating honesty.

Jill’s hand paused intimately at the small of Donna’s back. She let Donna’s words hang in the air for a small eternity, social pressure increasing the dark-haired woman’s discomfort until the need to speak was an almost physical force. “Go on,” she said at last, a knowing smirk turning her face into something almost cruel in its superiority. “Bent over the sofa and....?”

Donna sighed in defeat. “P-played with,” she whispered, her voice sounding incredibly loud in the morning stillness. “Like... like a toy. You bent me over the arm of the sofa with the phone still in my hands, p-posing me. So that I couldn’t look away. And then you pulled my leggings down to my knees and started fingering my. My cunt.” She didn’t realize that she’d stopped qualifying the descriptions with reminders that she’d only been dreaming; her stare was distant, seeing nothing but the endless tunnel of pulsing light in her memory. Donna could almost physically feel the slick digits probing her dripping pussy, the recollections so strong that her hips ground involuntarily into the imaginary touch. Her breath came in panting, hitching gasps, and her muscles twitched with the desire to grope and squeeze her aching tits.

“And did I keep hypnotizing you?” Jill asked, leaning in so close that her bare breasts brushed against Donna’s arm. Her other hand reached out to caress Donna’s thigh, rubbing in lazy circles that got closer and closer to Donna’s wet panties. “Did I tell you to give in and enjoy everything I was doing to you, so that you’d be more weak and vulnerable and easy to turn into my obedient lesbian fucktoy?” Her soft, purring tones sounded intimately familiar in Donna’s ears, so perfectly identical to the dream that Donna’s mind lurched with a sudden confusion about her own state of consciousness. If Jill told her that she was dreaming again, she would have believed it without a moment’s doubt.

But Jill only waited for Donna’s answer, and eventually she found that she couldn’t resist the desire to speak any longer. “Yes,” she whispered, her eyelids fluttering in pleasure as Jill’s fingers found her pussy and began to rub. “You, you told me that I’d be so horny for you. All the time. That I wouldn’t be able to fight my urges. That I’d fantasize about you all the time, and it would undermine my willpower and make it harder and harder to keep from begging you to f....” Donna’s breath caught in a choking gasp, the memories of last night leading inexorably back to the ragged edge of climax. “To fuck me,” she whimpered, helpless to stop herself from humping Jill’s hand like a needy bitch in heat.

“And I did, didn’t I?” Jill murmured softly, her breath warm in Donna’s ears. “I took you back to your bed. I made you get on your hands and knees on the bed. I made you beg for my strap-on. You wanted me inside you so badly, pretty girl. You wanted to be used like the horny little slut you are, you felt those desires flood through your mind and your body. Changing you forever. Making you my slave, my toy, my weak and helpless little girl who needed a good hard fucking from her Mistress.” Jill’s fingers were inside the waistband of Donna’s panties now, churning her messy cunt into a froth of arousal. “You want me right now, don’t you, my pretty little fuckdoll?” she asked, the certainty in her voice making it clear that it was anything but a question.

It took Donna almost forever to answer. For the longest time, the only thing she could concentrate on was those fingers, skating over her clit again and again until her jaw hung slack and drooling with sleepy bliss. Her fading thoughts groped through a sea of pleasure, trying to find words to describe her confused and tangled emotions. She knew she wanted this, she ached for Jill’s touch so badly, and yet... everything Donna thought she knew about herself slammed headlong into her newfound desires like a bumblebee flying into a window-pane. “It was a dream,” she whispered. “Dreams don’t... they don’t mean anything, Jill.”

Jill tutted. “And you were coming along so well, too.” She removed her hand from Donna’s back and reached across the table to pick up her phone from where it lay unnoticed. “Still, it’s not like I don’t know what to do about that.” She tapped her screen, and within moments it began to cycle rapidly through myriad pulsing colors. Helplessly, Donna’s eyes widened into rapt fascination as she sank into the endless pulses of light once more.

THE END