Author: Sterling
Title: I'll See You In My Dreams
Description: 12-year-old Cyrus's desire for certain girls makes
him dream over and over each night of trying to have sex with
them -- not something he can control. Tara and Melanie share his
dreams, though none of them understands the connection at first.
But then Tara's 5-year-old sister Hannah reports similar dreams
involving her friend's father, and the plot thickens. The big
kids share their experiences, and then unite to save Hannah from
the clutches of a misdirected sexual abuse investigation.
Keywords: 1st Mg mg mf bg het cons ESP ScFi

NOTICE:  This story contains explicit sex.

First posted 11/6/2011.

I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed.
Comments to sterling27@live.com.

I have written many other stories and they can all be found at
/files/Authors/Sterling/
For an index see
/files/Authors/Sterling/A%20%20SUBJECT%20INDE
X.txt

You are welcome to copy this story if you include the entire text
unchanged, including this notice.  If you tell me where you have
re-posted it, I can enjoy knowing it is appreciated and perhaps
enjoy the feedback the story gets where you re-post it.

Sterling

And now, our feature presentation.  Enjoy!

=========================================================
I'll See You In My Dreams

Chapter 1

First it was just an odd dream. Through her jeans, Tara felt a
hand on her butt, which was still for a moment, then started
stroking in a circle. When she turned, there was no one there.
The next night a hand went to her butt while another started
fondling her breast. Incensed, she yanked the hand off her breast
and turned around -- again no one there. She woke up right after
it feeling angry, but in the morning as she recalled it she felt
a bit of excitement too.
 
She was twelve, her body was pretty much developed and she'd been
having periods for over a year. Some of the boys made her heart
beat a little faster -- Steve especially. So it wasn't surprising
if she started dreaming about sexy things, right?
 
The next night she felt an arm grab her around the waist, felt a
boy's crotch press against her hip, and felt his hot breath in
her ear. His other hand zoomed right up between her thighs and
cupped the crotch of her jeans. She wriggled free and shouted
"No!" -- though it was silent in her dream. She came face to face
with -- Cyrus! She woke briefly. Why was she dreaming of Cyrus,
the shy, polite, smart kid? He was very uncool, and not
particularly sexy. She drifted back to sleep, but once again she
sensed a presence behind her. He grabbed her hips as she stood
and began a humping motion against her rear end. It took her a
couple seconds to break free, and she shouted a silent, "Cut it
out!" Cyrus faded. She had been sleeping on her right side and
turned with annoyance onto her left, hoping to leave that sort of
dream behind her and just get some sleep. But there he was again,
reaching out to grab both of her breasts at once, pushing her
back against a wall. Once more she fought free, pushing him away
from her roughly.
 
When she woke in the morning, memory of the dreams came back to
her, along with a rush of anger. In French class she was a little
bit behind Cyrus and to one side, so she could easily steal
glances of him, but he didn't try to look back at her. Half the
boys in her class were still little kids, but Cyrus was one of
the ones who was growing up. He was taller, he had some zits, and
his voice was changing. In Earth Science her seat was a couple
rows in front of him, though still off to one side. A casual turn
of her head let her steal quick glances back at him. Three times
she found he was looking at her, and the third time he shifted
uncomfortably in his seat as he looked away. It was definitely
more attention than he usually gave her.

Boys looked at her more and more, and she felt pride in knowing
she was attractive. She was also a little annoyed when they
stared at her chest or her crotch; they didn't think she noticed,
but it was sometimes obvious. She made a note of how much they
stared at other girls too. Her willowy blond friend Melanie got
the most looks, while the slightly heftier, big-boobed Leslie got
a lot too. Leslie was super-outgoing, and it seemed her flurry of
conversation rarely stopped.
 
The next night it was more of the same; Cyrus stood in front of
her, looking a little awkward, but then reached for a boob. She
intercepted his hand and pushed it away, but meanwhile his other
hand reached between her knees and surged upward, pressing her
skirt out of the way and coming snug against her panties. She
pushed that hand away, her loud 'Cut it out!' silent as always.
He faded and she drifted off to sleep, but it seemed that only
minutes later he was back, moving in clumsily with his face,
trying to kiss her, while his arm behind her waist pressed their
bodies together. She wriggled free and slept once more. But he
kept coming back to her in her sleep, groping, pressing, humping
against her. She noticed with dismay that his stiff cock was now
sticking out of his jeans as he pressed it against her stomach,
and later he was completely naked. In a few of the scenes she was
in just her underwear, then topless with a skirt. It seemed like
even in her dream world he wasn't going to actually force himself
on her, but as the dream kept coming back over and over, his
advances were relentless. When morning came she felt like she'd
barely slept at all.

---------------------------------------------------------
 
At what she judged was the right moment, Tara mentioned casually,
"Do you guys remember your dreams?"
 
"A little, sometimes, I guess," said Leslie. "Why?"
 
"I keep having this dream, over and over again."
 
"Yeah? What dream?"
 
"Well, um, a guy keeps groping me."
 
"Really?" Leslie asked with excitement. "Is he cute?"
 
"No! I keep pushing him away, but he keeps after me. Do you,
Melanie?"
 
"What?"
 
"Do you have dreams?"
 
"I guess."
 
"What does he do?" Leslie asked. "How does he grope you?"
 
"Well, you know, boobs, between my legs, my butt."
 
"Oooo! Hormones, hormones! You're horny!"
 
"I am not!"
 
"Yeah, sure... Is he naked? With a hard-on? Does he try to do it
to you?"
 
"No! Forget about it, it's just a dream, that's all," said Tara.
This conversation wasn't going the way she hoped at all.
 
That night was the worst ever, then the next was a little better.
Then Melanie caught her alone, and said, "You know those dreams
you were talking about?"
 
"Yeah," said Tara. She was exhausted, and didn't really feel like
talking much. "What about them?"
 
"Is it some particular boy? Like someone in our school?"
 
"Well, I don't know, I can't tell who it is," she lied.
 
"I think I'm having something like that, the last couple nights.
But I know who it is. Cyrus! Can you imagine that? Why am I
dreaming about Cyrus?"
 
"Really?" whispered Tara, eyes wide.
 
"You do know who, right?" said Melanie. "You just didn't want to
say. It's Cyrus for you too?"
 
Tara nodded. "He keeps coming at me over and over. I can't
sleep!"
 
"Is he weird with you at school?"
 
"No, nothing!"
 
"This is so bizarre."
 
They lapsed into a brief silence before Melanie spoke again. "Do
you, you know, like him at all?"
 
"No!"
 
"I mean, even a little?"
 
"No! Do you?"
 
"No... He is so smart, though. And funny sometimes."
 
That was all true, Tara realized, but he was most definitely not
cool! "You like him?"
 
"No! I said I didn't. It's just -- well, he is a boy, you know!"

"I thought you liked Carl."

"I do, I do! It's not like I *like* Cyrus, I told you."
 
In Earth Science, Tara turned to see what Cyrus was up to. He was
looking at her kind of dreamily and didn't look away instantly as
he usually did. Tara glared; Cyrus looked away quickly and turned
quite pink.

The next day the two girls exchanged groggy greetings.
 
"Same thing?" asked Tara.
 
"Yeah -- worse," sighed Melanie. "I know what you mean about how
he just never gives up. Why are we dreaming about him? He's nice
-- I mean, he'd never try to grope a girl for real."
 
"I think he knows what's going on."
 
"You're kidding! How?"
 
"I caught him looking at me, and I stared back, and he got all
flustered."
 
"But he'd do that anyway if you stared at him."
 
"Not like that."
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
That night Cyrus invaded Tara's dreams once more -- then the next
thing she knew, her alarm was ringing. She realized she'd slept
soundly for the first time in ages.
 
At school, she noticed at once that Melanie was smiling to
herself, and when she caught Tara's eye she gave a conspiratorial
grin.
 
The first chance they had to talk privately was at the end of
lunch period.
 
"That was so funny!" Melanie said, shaking her head.
 
"What? I slept well for the first time in ages."
 
Melanie smiled to herself for a moment more, then looked up. "You
did?"
 
"He came to me once, then the next thing I knew it was morning."
 
"Oh ... My ... God! It makes sense."
 
"Why? What?"
 
"I decided I'd just see what happened. I mean... You won't tell
anyone, right?"
 
"No."
 
"Not even Leslie?"

"No, of course not! What?"
 
"I kind of thought about it before I went to sleep. It's just a
dream, so what's the harm, right? So in my dream, I kind of knew
what I'd been thinking and I just let him. And he did. I mean, he
was like an animal."
 
"Did he just keep on and do it to you?"
 
"Oh, yeah! We'd both been naked in my dreams the night before,
and this time I just laid back and opened up, and he ... he went
right in. Zoom! Unnnh!"
 
"What?... Huh. Did it hurt?"
 
"Huh? No, it didn't hurt. He was in me all of ten seconds or
something. But he got deep -- way deep." Melanie smiled.
 
"Did he, like come in you? Or -- wait, it's just a dream."
 
"He came all right. He gasped and cried out, though I couldn't
hear him, then he just kind of collapsed as he pulled out."
 
"This is so bizarre."
 
"I know. But you said you slept well, right?"
 
"Yeah."
 
"So, he got his rocks off and then he left us both alone for the
rest of the night."
 
"This is creepy. So, was it disgusting? I mean letting him do
it?"
 
"I felt a little scared in my dream, but I kept saying 'It's just
a dream, it's just a dream!' And it was pretty exciting too! I
mean, I can't get pregnant, and no one can call me a slut... And
it didn't hurt."
 
"Huh."
 
As Tara looked over at Cyrus during French, a couple times he
seemed to be smiling to himself.
 
That night Tara slept well the entire night, without a single
visit from Cyrus. She finally felt rested again.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
The next night, Cyrus appeared in Tara's dream again. He was
naked, with his cock stiff as anything. All she had on was
panties. She was lying back on the bed, and he leaned over her,
panting as his mouth approached her small breasts. She pushed him
away and he disappeared, but something stirred in the back of her
mind -- what Melanie had said.
 
Cyrus appeared once more, dove for her nipples, and this time she
didn't push very hard. He hesitated a moment and glanced up at
her, and she decided to let it go. The wetness of his mouth on
her breast was a little weird at first, but also a little
exciting. She was letting a boy suck her nipple! And then it
started feeling good in the dream.
 
She felt his hand on her panty crotch, rubbing for a second, then
trying to get his hand inside. She instinctively reached down to
pull his hand away, then hesitated. 'It's just a dream,' she told
herself, then lifted her hips and pulled her panties down and
off.
 
Cyrus had a dopey but excited look on his face as he crawled up
into position. Might as well spread her legs, she thought.
Seconds later she felt it. First a warm bump on her pussy lips.
Then an insistent press with a blunt knob, then a very insistent
press, her girl flesh pressing inward -- and then her tissues
gave way and the knob was inside. It hurt, in a dream-like way --
sort of like hurting in theory but not in practice. And then he
shifted upward, pressing hard, inward, filling her up. She had no
idea her pussy could stretch like that -- this humongo tampon,
but so unlike a tampon in every respect. Hot, insistent,
self-propelled. It glided on something, which must have been her
dream lubrication -- she'd read about lubrication on the web.
Cyrus was pumping away like a crazy man, filling her over and
over again, bumping against her pubic bone, his face contorted
and distant. He kept going and going, and she started feeling
something good. Somehow the parts of her body that can make a
girl feel good were doing their job. The idea of getting stuffed
and humped was both exciting and disgusting, but now it actually
felt good, a warm glow of pleasure. Then Cyrus held his breath as
he pumped furiously, then collapsed on her. That must have been
his orgasm. He looked up to give her a goofy grin before he faded
away.

Tara woke from her dream and smiled to herself. Melanie was right
-- it was like a free chance to experiment. No disease, no real
pain, no pregnancy, no bad reputation -- Cyrus was hardly going
to boast to his pals of having a wet dream! That is, if he had
any pals he confided in. And it felt right somehow. She'd known
ever since she'd found out the facts of life that sex was in her
future. First it was totally unthinkable, then it was something
to think about but incredibly gross, then she could kind of see
why maybe someday she'd want it -- and now she'd done it! At
least in her dreams. And a big chunk of the "gross" part was
gone, she decided. She explored with her hand inside her panties.
She was warm down there, and even a little damp. She stuck a
couple fingers in her pussy and could tell her hymen was still
there. She'd lost her virginity in her dream, but not real life.
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
"Let me guess," said Melanie. "You let him do it to you!"
 
Tara hadn't thought her smile was that obvious. "Yeah," she said
sheepishly.
 
"Which explains why he didn't do it to me until after it was
already light. He did it to you first thing, probably, right?"
 
"Yeah."
 
"And how was it?"
 
"Pretty nice. Really pretty nice."
 
"Yeah. Did he last longer with you?"
 
"Yeah -- and it started feeling good."
 
"You mean the idea of it?"
 
"No, like sexy feelings."
 
"Really? I've never had that."
 
---------------------------------------------------------
 
Leslie approached her two friends. "You aren't avoiding me, are
you?"
 
"Oh, no, of course not!" said Tara.
 
"You're always whispering."
 
"Yeah, sorry, but it's nothing to do with you."
 
"Is it those dreams?" Leslie asked, more quietly than usual.
 
"Huh?" asked Tara. She wasn't eager to broach the subject of
dreams with Leslie again.
 
"Yeah, I started having them too," said Melanie.
 
"Oh, really?" said Leslie. "You know, I had one last night. At
least what you were saying sounded like what happened to me. Oh
-- by the way, I couldn't make out who it was. Do you guys have
particular boys in your dreams, like from school?"
 
"Yeah," said Melanie. "It's Cyrus -- for me," she added, with a
quick glance at Tara. Tara hoped she could become as confident as
Melanie some day. To admit that a not-cool boy was pawing her
over in her sleep, and then not to 'out' Tara at the same time.
 
"Cyrus, huh," said Leslie.
 
Tara expected a stronger reaction than that. She would have
expected something like a wide-eyed "Cyrus! That's so gross!"
 
"What about you? Was it someone we know?" asked Tara.
 
"No, I couldn't see who," said Leslie.
 
"Cyrus, by any chance?" Tara asked.
 
"No, not Cyrus."
 
They got a strong hint later as class was about to begin, when
Walter said, "I dreamed about you, Leslie." His voice cracked and
squeaked on the "Leslie" part.
 
"Well, I don't want to hear about it!" snapped Leslie. That
wasn't like her, if all that was involved was Walter's own dream.
He was one of the more clueless boys around, and his skin now had
that oily look to it, matching his changing voice. Cyrus might
not be cool, but he was smart. Tara was glad it wasn't Walter who
was coming to her at night.
 
Tara also noticed that Cyrus was especially attentive to the
exchange.

---------------------------------------------------------

In her dream, Tara knew how it was going to go. Cyrus was going
to go deep, pump a bunch of times, and shoot his wad. By now it
was exciting, but a little frustrating too.

In her dream, Tara rubbed her own pussy as Cyrus approached her.
As he tried to mount, she held him back -- she didn't push him
away, she just held him off while she rubbed, feeling those good
feelings accumulating. Cyrus saw what she was doing and didn't
disappear. He waited a few seconds and then began moving into
position. Once more she held him back. This time he wouldn't be
denied, and he struggled into position. Tara sensed that her
choice was to reject him entirely or let him do it. She let him
do it. But as he moved in, she grabbed his cock and rubbed it
back and forth over her vulva, getting her clitoris. But Cyrus
could tell his cock wasn't going the right way, and in
exasperation he grabbed it from her and lined it up where it
really went and shoved. As usual, it felt nice to Tara -- nicer
than usual, in fact. Pleasure built, but seconds later Cyrus
lunged and froze, and it was all over.

He came to her again, and once more she held him off a little.
Her fingers worked busily, getting her excited. But the third
time he wouldn't be denied any more, and he lined up and plunged
in. After a few strokes, Tara seized his butt and held their
pelvises firmly together. Her clitoris felt a restful sort of
glow from that. Cyrus was annoyed that his thrusting had been
interrupted. Scowling at her, he moved his own hands to her hips,
and then he had the leverage to get himself out-strokes
regardless of how she pressed. She let him thrust, and it felt
great. He moved his hands up higher again, and as she felt him
getting excited, she gripped his pelvis to her once more. Once
more she felt a sort of restful glow, a calm before the storm,
perhaps. Quickly he clutched her hipbones and resumed his fucking
motion. This time he didn't let go of her hips, but stabbed into
her with greater depth and speed. Her pleasure was almost there,
almost. When it looked like he was about to come, she wiggled to
one side, then the other. It felt good, and it threw him off his
rhythm. He regained control and resumed his fuck then, and she
felt something happening. It was going to be all right, she knew.
He was going to fuck her harder and faster, more and more, and --
there it was! She felt waves of pleasure, waves of ecstasy. And
above all she felt satisfied. There, for once she was satisfied
too! She even had time to hug him before the dream faded.

---------------------------------------------------------

"I think I dreamed an orgasm," said Tara to Melanie a few days
later.

"Oh, you're so lucky! Because this is getting out of hand. Walter
came to me last night."

"Really? You're kidding!"

"Yeah. I pushed him away three times, but then I woke up enough
to remember it's just a dream. So I let him, and he was done in
seconds." She made a face. "Just as long as I don't have to do it
with him in real life."

Just then Walter walked by, leering at Melanie. She called him
over, smiling.

Walter wasn't used to getting any sort of attention from cool
girls, so he looked a little uncomfortable.

"Walter, dear," said Melanie. "If you want to keep having nice
dreams about me, could you just keep quiet about them?"

"Huh? How did you..." Walter was flustered.

"Never mind, just do it. Don't tell anyone, OK?"

"OK, no problem," said Walter, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Goodbye."

When he had walked away, Melanie said, "and then Mr. White showed
up."

"Mr. White!" He was the history teacher.

"And he started pawing you too?"

"Yeah, from the rear, grabbing me over and over, pushing my skirt
up. But I said, 'What the heck' and let him."

"From the rear? You don't mean your butt hole, do you?"

"Know, the right place, just from the other side." She smiled. "I
can kinda see why big girls like all this stuff. I mean, I felt
kind of like a dog or something, but it was nice too. And then
Cyrus showed up towards morning."

"Makes sense. He came to me twice early on. And the second time
is when I think I dreamed I came."

"You know, this stuff has me feeling around down there -- you
know, for real. I can get it to feel good, but I don't think I
get an orgasm. That's got like a release feeling to it --
satisfied?"

Tara nodded.

"Yeah, so it's not an orgasm. I've got these three guys doing it
to me during the night, but I'm supposed to feel good too,
right?"

"I don't know what the rules are about dream sex."

"You're right," said Melanie with a laugh. "But you said you got
an orgasm, right?"

The conversation gave Tara a naughty idea. She wrote a note on
her computer, printed it out, sealed it in an envelope with
Cyrus's name on it, and left it in his French class desk when no
one was looking. She watched carefully when he found it and
opened it. He looked surprised at first, then turned a little
pink. The note read:

"Can you dream about making Melanie come too? Look it up on the
web!"

---------------------------------------------------------

Melanie lay on her back. Cyrus kissed her ear, then her lips. He
moved down to her left breast, swirling it with his fingers while
he licked it. He'd been doing this stuff more and more, and it
felt great! Meanwhile, his right hand rubbed slowly and smoothly
up her inner thigh from knee to just below her pussy, making her
glow. Then his right hand cupped her sex before dissolving into
fingers with ideas of their own. Pointer and ringman opened her
labia and wiggled a bit, while tallman went to work inside. He
poked into her vagina briefly before sliding up to her clit,
where he lingered. Back down he hopped to repeat. It felt
wonderful!

She was ready for his cock, and she nudged him up into position.
In he dove, and it felt fantastic. He rode her differently than
he used to, and somehow his cock rubbed more against her clit.
The pleasure was wonderful.

He kept going, on and on, thrusting away, kissing her ear and her
breast. But after a while her pleasure started fading instead of
growing. Not this time.

She humped her pelvis up against him rapidly, which by now he
took as a signal that he should go for it. And he did, stabbing
her deep and hard, his muscles bulging with the exertion, his
eyes shut in approaching pleasure. Finally he gave a tremendous
heave, shoving her up on the bed, and held himself still. She
felt his cock twitching faintly in her pussy. His face dissolved
from harsh concentration to a relaxed smile of utter happiness.
Cyrus had come again. That was nice. She had not -- she had
never. That was not so nice.

---------------------------------------------------------

"God, it's frustrating," Melanie reported two days later. "In my
dreams Cyrus is doing more and more to me, and it feels better
and better -- but I still end up feeling so frustrated!"

"Oh," said Tara quietly. Tara had meant for her secret note to
improve Melanie's dream sex, and while it had, now it seemed the
greater pleasure also led to greater frustration.

But the note had paid off for her too. It wasn't so surprising
that he was doing the same things with her, and she was dreaming
bigger and better orgasms. She wasn't feeling frustrated -- not
at all!

---------------------------------------------------------

Cyrus was on the whole very happy with the situation.

First he'd had those dreams, over and over, of trying to get into
Tara's pants. In his dream he wasn't being very nice about it,
which embarrassed him when he woke up. The dream kept happening
over and over. Then it was interspersed with dreams of Melanie.
Over and over, he was trying to get at them, trying to, well,
fuck them. That was the right word. His sleep was rotten because
he kept waking up dreaming of groping and poking. The girls
pushed him away, and he could see they were pissed in the dream,
but a few minutes later he woke up again, with another fresh
memory of trying to get one or the other into a position where he
could fuck her. He jerked off -- three times in one night, once
-- but it didn't help. His dream horniness was as strong as ever.

And then he dreamed that Melanie had let him. Like an animal he'd
mounted her, shoved it in, and come in his dream. And then he'd
felt satisfied when he woke up. Smiling dreamily, he'd checked
his underpants. He was hard, but there was no sticky mess. And
then he'd fallen asleep and hadn't woken until morning, feeling
more rested than he had in ages. But he'd dreamed of trying to
mate with her the next night, and once more she let him.

He still dreamed of Tara too, and she kept pushing him away. But
then she'd let him too, and he'd find himself having two or three
very nice dreams every night. Usually he'd fuck Melanie once,
then Tara, and then towards morning wake up to fuck Melanie
again. And in his dream it felt fantastic -- it felt like he
really had worked his cock deep in their pussies, and then that
incredible release and fulfillment as he came up inside her. And
that was of course a boy's ultimate dream. Masturbation felt
nice, but it was scoring with a girl that really gripped a boy's
imagination.

He didn't understand why he never dreamed about Emily. Emily was
shy and quiet and smart. And she was beautiful to him, though he
realized other boys probably didn't think of her that way. He'd
been daydreaming about her for years. They used to be just sweet
and tender thoughts. But lately -- even before all the stuff with
Melanie and Tara started happening -- they were more urgent,
about kissing her and making out with her, and then she'd melt
and tell him how much she wanted it, and after making sure it was
really, truly what she wanted, he'd grab his cock and imagine
burrowing into her pussy, bringing them both to a rousing orgasm.
That was a waking fantasy he had in bed at night, and it was his
real cock, in real life, shooting a real goopy mess.

Since he'd had the dreams of Tara and Melanie, he had a much more
satisfying sense of what it would feel like to be driving into a
pussy. He hoped it would feel like that when he did it for real
some day! Those dream memories carried over into his waking
masturbation. He found some hand lotion to use as lube, and the
wet feel was much more satisfying.

But however much he thought of Emily in real life, however much
he imagined shoving his cock into her pussy as he stroked his own
real cock when he was awake, she never showed up in his dreams.

All that happened with Tara and Melanie seemed strange in a way,
but he figured it was just hormones making him imagine strange
things.

But there had been strange things from the beginning. The way
Tara had glared at him one morning after he had dreamed a dozen
times of trying to get at her between the legs. And then Walter
had mentioned his dream about Leslie -- who had snapped at him.
It seemed like a strong reaction to Walter's simple, inane
comment. But the real proof had been that letter he'd gotten
asking him to dream of being a better lover to Melanie. Where the
hell had that come from? It implied that Melanie knew he was
dreaming of her, and knew he was coming in his dream. She could
have discussed it with anyone, of course. But she and Tara were
good friends, and he was dreaming about banging both of them.
Were they both aware of it? Tara had glared at him, and it seemed
likely Leslie was aware of Walter.

He was intensely curious as to why this was happening. He
couldn't find anything about it on the web anywhere. At the very
least it looked like there was telepathy going on in his dream.

As soon as Tara glared at him that day, he'd gotten embarrassed,
because he was being an incredibly boorish asshole in his dream.
He was pawing and groping and while he accepted the girl's 'no'
at the moment, he kept going back again and again in later
dreams. He'd certainly never treat a girl like that for real! He
had fervently hoped he wouldn't dream about Tara that way any
more, and determined not to. It didn't help; those dreams of
pawing, groping and clutching kept happening. Yet after he got
the note about Melanie,
he'd excitedly looked up how to be a good lover. And those
techniques had worked their way into his dreams. That was a funny
thing -- he couldn't make the dreams stop, but he could at least
in some respects change how the experience went.

Then, of course, in his dreams Melanie had let him do it, and
then Tara too, and it had felt fantastic. If there really was a
connection -- if it was somehow the real girl he was meeting in
his dream, then it was thrilling. The idea that a cool girl like
Tara could dream of giving way to his rude, unfettered sexual
desire was so exciting! And it was even more surprising with
Melanie, because Melanie was a sort of goddess, gorgeous and
popular but also kind and self-assured. You just knew she'd never
give in to peer pressure. And he thought she'd never give in to a
boy groping and pawing and trying to mate with her with all the
subtlety of a dog humping someone's leg -- not even in her
dreams.

---------------------------------------------------------

Cyrus was astonished when Melanie asked if he could come over to
help her study math. He was constantly on the alert for practical
jokes. He had some bitter memories of the other boys making him
look like an ass. But help with homework was a simple and easily
defensible activity. And while in his heart Emily was his true
love, his dreams of screwing the goddess Melanie night after
night had its effect on him.

She led him up to her bedroom.

"So," he said, "was it the recent stuff on polynomials you were
having trouble with?"

"Yeah, I'm not quite getting it."

So Cyrus sat at the girl's desk and they took turns "driving" at
the computer, and now and then turned to writing on a pad of
paper.

He thought she was sitting kind of close to him, but maybe not.
Just because she was a goddess whose very presence took his
breath away didn't mean she meant it that way.

After half an hour, she said, "My brain's getting kind of tired,"
and sat back in her chair beside him.

Cyrus thought she had been doing very well, on the whole. She
seemed to pick up the concepts just fine -- in fact, he had the
sense that she already knew them. He wondered if help with
homework was a convenient excuse to get him to come to her house,
but quickly dismissed the idea.

"Do you ever remember your dreams, Cyrus?"

His heart pounded. Uh-oh. "Um, sometimes, yeah," he said, his
voice sounding to him like it was coming from far away.

"I dream about you sometimes," she said.

"Oh, huh," he managed. His face felt hot. Although part of him
thought it was impossible, another part felt pretty sure she was
dreaming of him fucking her, over and over again, night after
night.

Melanie giggled in a friendly way. "It's OK, they're just
dreams," she said softly, and leaned her head against his
shoulder.

The goddess was touching him! "Um, yeah, I guess when you dream
it is a dream," he said, realizing that was totally inane. He
could feel himself burning with embarrassment. This couldn't
really be happening unless it was a setup for a joke, right? He
could just imagine holding her hand, or moving in for a kiss --
the thought made him faint -- and have her say, "Sucker!" as she
pulled away and laughed harshly. And he didn't want to be untrue
to Emily -- although she had no idea he had pledged his love to
her. He couldn't help his dreams, but in real life -- that was a
different matter.

He rose from the chair. "Maybe we should get back to studying
math another time," he said, unable to look her in the eye.

After a brief pause, she said, "Well, OK."

"Hope it was helpful, but you seem to know it pretty well."

"Oh, I don't know. It comes and goes, and I feel more confident
now."

"Bye."

"Bye."

And with that he was out the door, burning in shame and
embarrassment, totally confused about just what had happened or
why. Did Melanie want to be his girlfriend? No one would believe
that, and he would be teased mercilessly if the other boys ever
found out he had pretensions along those lines. His next thought
made sense but he couldn't quite take in the emotional
consequences: Did she want to do in real life what they were
doing in their dreams? His cock got very hard.

---------------------------------------------------------

"You seem like something's wrong," asked Tara.

"Do I?" Melanie replied.

"Yeah, like something's bugging you."

"Oh, it's nothing really. Or maybe it's PMS."

"How's your sex life?"

Melanie glanced at Tara quickly.

"How's yours?"

"It's still Cyrus at least once a night. You still have Cyrus and
Mr. White and Walter?"

"Yeah, I still do," said Melanie, who seemed to relax a little.

"Say, have you heard of a vibrator?"

"Um, I guess. That's like a sex toy?"

"Yeah. And I heard they're good for women who can't have
orgasms."

"So?"

"Well, you're still frustrated, right?"

"Oh, that. Yeah, but how would I ever get a vibrator? And what if
my parents ever found out?"

"If I could get you one, would you try it?"

"How would you get one?"

"I'm not sure, but I have an idea. And you must have a secret
place your parents would never look. Would you?"

"I guess."

Tara's cousin Gina was a senior in high school and casually told
Tara about her sex life. She'd mentioned vibrators. And sure
enough, when Tara said she had a friend who maybe could use one,
Gina managed to get one for her.

Melanie felt kind of dirty and naughty as she turned it on for
the first time. You put it -- down there? She was ashamed at
first at the intensity of the waves of pleasure.

But by holding it in just the right spot, the waves of pleasure
built, stronger and stronger, and then -- wow, just like that,
she felt that release, those pulses of pleasure and the sense
that she was satisfied. She found herself using it just about
every night.

In her dreams, as Mr. White and Walter and Cyrus fucked her, she
still felt that excitement, that desire for more -- for
fulfillment. In her dreams, it never came. Feeling satisfied in
real life was great, but the incompleteness of her dream sex
still left her feeling unsatisfied.

===============================================
Chapter 2

Tara lived with her parents and her five-year-old sister Hannah.
Tara at the age of seven had adored having a new baby come into
the house, and had enjoyed playing with her as she grew up. Since
she was so much older, she related to her a bit more like a
mother than a sister. But the little girl adored her and was on
the whole a pretty good kid. She had her moments, of course. But
on the whole Tara felt she was lucky when she heard her peers
talk about their siblings.

Hannah had a best friend Kate who lived on the other side of
town. They played at each other's houses pretty often. It seemed
most weekends either Kate was over at their house or the other
way around for hours at a time. Kate often stayed to dinner, and
now and then they'd had a sleepover too. Kate was kind of bossy,
but Hannah didn't seem to mind. Kate had an active imagination,
and Tara sometimes found herself smiling as she sat in her room,
unable to help overhearing the animated make-believe going on in
the living room.

One day the conversation took a different and surprising turn.

"I had a funny dream," Hannah said.

"You're supposed to be the evil witch, Hannah."

"I had a dream about your daddy."

"You can use this for a wand, OK? And you're going to turn me
into a  frog. I'm the prince now."

"It was about his, you know, thingie."

"His what?"

"You know, his..." and Hannah whispered something Tara didn't
catch and giggled.

"I saw it once," confided Kate. "When he was in the shower."

"In my dream he was all naked and his thingie was big like a
banana."

"Hannah! Thingies aren't like that. They're little."

"In my dream it was big. And he wanted me to lie down and spread
my legs, and he took off my panties."

"Yeah, right."

"And then he poked his thingie up between my legs!"

"You're lying!"

"No! I dreamed it!"

"That's a gross dream."

"It was kind of fun in the dream. He poked the thingie up in my
body somehow and wiggled in and out. It was like that was all he
could think about."

"Hannah! You're supposed to be the witch!"

There was a brief pause. "I was the witch last time!"

"Yeah, but you make a good witch. I have to be the prince. You
take this wand, see, and say..."

Tara thought it was funny that Hannah was having dreams about
sex. She was so little! She wondered idly how she knew so much.

---------------------------------------------------------

The next weekend Hannah came into Tara's room; she had left the
door open a crack.

"Hi, Henny," she said, using the old nickname. "What's up?"

"I'm sad."

"Why sad?"

"I can't go over to Kate's any more."

"Why not?"

"Mommy won't say, but I think it's about a dream I had."

"Oh? What did you dream?"

"Mommy says I'm not supposed to tell."

"You can tell me."

"Nope, she said not to."

Tara made a connection in her mind. "Is it the one about Kate's
dad and his thingie?"

Hannah's eyes went wide. "How'd you know about that?"

"I heard you telling Kate about it last weekend. That's the
dream, right?"

"Um, yeah, how'd you know?"

"It just made sense somehow."

"Why can't I go to Kate's house because of a dream?"

Tara didn't have a good answer to that, but it got her thinking.
She approached her mother as she was doing dishes, explaining how
she knew about the secret dream.

"So why can't she go to Kate's house?"

"You shouldn't worry about anything like that, Tara. We'll work
it out."

"Yeah, but Hannah loves Kate. Why can't she see her?"

"I said, it's not something you need to worry about."

"Ah, c'mon, mom, I'm not a little kid!"

"All right," her mother sighed. She stopped doing dishes and sat
at the kitchen table. "Why do you think Hannah would have a dream
like that?"

"I don't know. She dreamed about sex, that's all."

"Yeah, I guess you do know about sex, don't you," said her
mother, looking away momentarily. "But how does Hannah know about
sex?"

"Oh, hmmmm. She overheard people talking."

"Who'd talk about sex in front of Hannah?" She paused as if she'd
just thought of something. "You wouldn't, would you?"

"Of course not!"

"I didn't think so, honey, but I figured I ought to ask. So who
would?"

"I dunno. Did she see a video or something?"

"Who'd let Hannah see a video about sex?"

"I dunno; maybe they found one somewhere?"

"There's another possibility, right?"

The revelation hit Tara in the pit of the stomach. "You mean,
like Kate's daddy really did that to her?"

"Or at least pretended to. We're pretty sure he didn't actually,
you know, really do everything she dreamed, because everything
looks fine down there."

"But Hannah doesn't seem upset by the dream."

"Yeah, but it's not just a dream, see? Probably he told her not
to tell, and she figured if it was a dream, that wouldn't be
telling."

"But she's not upset."

"Kids often aren't upset by abuse right away -- or they don't
show it."

"So what are you going to do?"

"We're making sure Hannah isn't anywhere near Kate's dad while we
figure out what to do."

Tara had to admit that sounded reasonable.

---------------------------------------------------------

They didn't have long to wait. On Tuesday, neither of Hannah's
parents went to work, instead taking Hannah to "meetings" all
day. Hannah seemed glum when she got home, well after Tara was
home from school.

"What's going on? Why so sad?" Tara asked her little sister as
she came into the bedroom and plopped herself in her lap for a
hug.

Right on her heels came their mother, however, who said, "Come
on, Hannah, come out with me."

"Why?"

"Just so."

As Tara suspected, her mother wanted to have the first go at
telling what happened. She came in later, after Hannah was
asleep, and sat down.

"It's about the dream, right?"

"Yeah, Hannah mentioned the dream at school, and the teacher
overheard. And as a 'mandated reporter', she had to, well, report
it. Which means they have to investigate. So they asked us
questions all day, and then each of us alone, including Hannah.
Daddy's pretty upset because they're obviously suspecting him
too."

"Why daddy?"

"Because one thing she might do if he was abusing her is say that
someone else was doing it instead."

"Daddy'd never do that!"

"I know, I know, but they've got to check it out. Procedures and
all. It was touch and go whether they'd make him move out while
they investigate. I suggested maybe he could stay if they swapped
rooms, and the police said OK. Hannah's sleeping in with me until
they sort this out. I have to check in on her every ten minutes,"
she sighed, checking her watch. "And you're excused from school
tomorrow so they can ask you questions too."

It took two hours. They asked about any mood changes she'd seen
in Hannah or Kate, whether Kate's father had ever touched her or
looked at her funny. They asked her about her own father, and
just what he'd done with her, how he'd touched her, what parts of
him she'd seen, how he looked at her, over and over again. She
had nothing important to say, but she realized a hug from daddy
would never be the same again. She felt dirty and depressed by
the whole thing.

She imagined how Hannah must feel, because they must have asked
her those questions and more, and undoubtedly she'd had to
recount her dream -- all of it over and over again. And Kate --
surely Kate had had to analyze every hug her daddy had ever given
her, every bath he'd helped her with. She learned that Kate, too,
had to sleep in the room with her mother while they continued the
investigation.

That night they let Hannah visit Tara, and the little girl cried
in her arms.

"Oh, it's OK, Hannah, it will all work out. Don't cry."

When her sniffles had died down, Hannah said, "I keep having the
dream. He keeps coming at me with that big banana penis of his --
did you know it's called a 'penis'?"

Tara chuckled. "Yeah, I did know that. Go on, honey."

"First in my dream I just let him stick it up in there and wiggle
away. And I didn't mind, though they think I really did somehow."

"It's just a dream, right?"

"Yeah, but they don't believe me. They think it really happened.
Then after the social workers started asking me all those
questions I knew I shouldn't let him, so when he came into my
dream I didn't let him do it any more. I pushed him away. He
left, but then I kept having the dream over and over, all night."

"What?" asked Tara, suddenly making a connection.

"I kept having the dream over and over."

"When you were letting him do it, you only had the dream once,
but when you stopped letting him, the dream kept coming back?"

"Yeah. That's right! You get it!" said the little girl. "They
don't believe me, and always ask questions to make everything
different than it is."

"I'm sorry, honey," Tara said, rocking her sister.

"Do you believe it was a dream?"

"Yes, Hannah, yes I do!" said Tara with total sincerity, staring
into her little sister's eyes, tears welling up.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said the little girl, dissolving into
tears once more.

---------------------------------------------------------

Now Tara had a lot to think about. Hannah was having dreams just
like she and Melanie were -- not to mention Leslie, Cyrus,
Walter, and presumably Mr. White. No one was actually doing
anything to Hannah; there was nothing wrong!

But there was the other part of it. Why would Kate's father think
about doing it with Hannah? She was just a little kid! It was a
disgusting thought, him wiggling his penis back and forth in the
little girl -- and more disgusting than doing it was why he'd
want to do it. He'd always seemed nice. He had a friendly twinkle
in his eyes whenever he looked at her or Hannah, she realized.
But lots of grown-ups looked at kids like that.

And how on earth would his penis fit in her? But then she
realized that she dreamed of Cyrus's penis all the time, but she
was still a virgin in real life. In the dream world, Kate's
father's big banana penis fit just fine into Hannah's little
vagina.

What kind of a man was Kate's father? He dreamed about screwing
her little sister, who was way too young to look at all like a
woman -- and the thought made a surge of rage flush through her
body. But he wasn't actually doing anything to her -- was he? If
Hannah said he wasn't, then Tara believed her. Cyrus wasn't doing
anything to her or Melanie, either.

---------------------------------------------------------

Melanie sat with wide eyes as Tara told the story of all that had
happened, and she remained silent for a while after Tara was
done.

"Holy shit," said the goddess at last.

"What? What do we do?"

"We knew part of it, right? A few guys reach out in their dreams
to try to do it with the girls they have the hots for."

"Why do you say 'a few'?"

"There are a lot of guys besides Walter, Cyrus, and Mr. White who
have the hots for me."

"Oh."

"I mean, it's true, right?"

Anyone could see that a lot of guys salivated over Melanie's
body.

"Not that I'm bragging -- but thank God they don't all visit me
every night! 'Take a number, boys'?" she called out in the voice
of a disgruntled bureaucrat. It was worth a laugh. She continued,
"And the girls feel it, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, um -- what's the man's name?"

"Mr. Anderson."

"So Mr. Anderson has the hots for Hannah. He's probably just as
nice as Cyrus is, and has these dreams and can't help it."

"But he shouldn't dream about Hannah that way. That's gross!"

"Yeah, it is," said Melanie, lapsing into silence. "But it's
gross for Walter to paw my boobs too."

"He does -- still?"

"No, I kind of stick my butt up at him in my dream, and he's in
and out in no time. But before I let him he was doing that -- and
more."

"But it's different, right? I mean, it's normal for Walter to
want to do it with girls."

"Yeah, you're right," said Melanie. "Just like it's normal for
Vanessa to want a boyfriend."

They both giggled. Vanessa was really fat, loud, not very smart,
and all the things a girl didn't want to be.

So it came back to the sickening question. "Why would Mr.
Anderson want to poke around -- into! -- Hannah's private parts?
Yuck!"

Melanie shrugged. "I dunno. But let's think about it more. What
do we want?"

"I want them to stop bugging Hannah and telling her it couldn't
have just been a dream."

"Yeah, that's important." She paused a moment. "And then what
about the dream?"

"She didn't mind the dream before the teachers found out. When I
heard her telling Kate about it, it was just a cool thing that
had happened."

"So do you want her to keep on having it?"

"No... No! Of course not! So how do we keep Mr. Anderson from
having his dreams?"

"I dunno." After a little more thought, she added, "How do we get
them to stop bugging Hannah about the dream?"

"We could tell them we have dreams like that too."

"You think they'd believe us?"

"Believe what? That we're dreaming about guys doing it to us?
They know we've got hormones. They'd believe that part."

"Yeah, I guess. But, shit! I don't want to tell a bunch of cops
about Cyrus and Walter and Mr. White!"

"And the vibrator?" Tara gave a wicked little grin.

"Well, I could leave that part out, I think," said Melanie with a
little smile. "But it isn't the dreams themselves, right? It's
that the dreams are coming from the boys. That there's this
connection between their dreams and our dreams."

"Yeah, and maybe the boys could stop having their dreams? So Mr.
Anderson could too?"

"Yeah."

There was a really long pause.

"I think we need to talk with Cyrus," said Tara.

"Cyrus!" said Melanie with some alarm.

"Well, you don't want to talk with Walter, do you? Or Mr. White?"

"Yeah, well that's for sure, but... what can Cyrus tell us?"

"What it's like for him to have those dreams. Maybe he knows what
makes him have more or less of them. Who knows how many other
girls he's visiting every night?"

"Yeah, but don't you think he'd die of embarrassment?"

"I'm not sure, but -- hey, he's the one who showed up in *our*
dreams!"

"Yeah, but maybe he can't help it."

"Even so. My sister's very upset, and her life's a mess right
now. I don't care if Cyrus gets embarrassed!"

"I don't know. I still don't think it's a good idea."

---------------------------------------------------------

Tara wasn't surprised that Cyrus was reluctant, but why her
friend Melanie was so unenthusiastic was beyond her. She
corralled the two of them after school the next day in the
physics classroom -- a location Cyrus had suggested.

"So. What do you want?" asked Cyrus, looking away after making
brief eye contact.

"I want to tell you about my sister. She's five years old, OK?
And one day I overheard her telling her friend Kate that she'd
had a dream. You can't tell anyone, Cyrus, OK?"

"Why not?" he said, a little belligerently.

"Because it's a secret. You'll understand when you hear it. You
promise?"

"OK," said the boy with a sullen sigh.

"Kate's her best friend, and they're visiting back and forth all
the time. Her dream was that Kate's father had molested her. Like
did everything. Went all the way with her. And she's only five
years old!"

Cyrus continued to look away, uncomfortable.

"The teachers found out about this dream, and now it's a huge
deal. See, they figure that she couldn't have a dream like that,
because she wouldn't know what sex was all about. The only way
she could know that is if someone was actually doing bad things
to her."

"Makes sense," said Cyrus.

"But she insists it's only a dream. And I swear the first time I
heard her say it she wasn't upset about it. She was just talking
about something cool. But then she told me more. She said that
the first time Mr. Anderson came to her in her dreams, he wanted
to, you know, get at her private parts, and she just let him. She
says in her dream he did it to her, and then disappeared. And
that kept happening every night."

"So? Maybe Mr. Anderson kept doing it to her in real life."

"They're not in the same place that often -- and wait, there's
more. Once the teachers found out and everyone made a big deal of
it, Hannah decided he was being bad and she shouldn't let him.
When he came to her in her dream, she pushed him away and
wouldn't let him do it any more."

"Smart girl," said Cyrus with a crooked smile. "Trying to salvage
her reputation."

"This isn't funny! But when that happened, the dream kept
happening over and over the same night. She'd keep dreaming he
was trying to get at her, she'd push him away and he'd leave --
but he kept coming back. Does that ring a bell?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Cyrus, looking
down.

"Well, Melanie and I have had dreams like that too. Where someone
kept coming at us again and again in the night, and we kept
pushing him away. Until we dreamed we'd let him do what he
wanted. But it wasn't Mr. Anderson."

Cyrus got up to go. "You girls have some really weird dreams.
Sorry about your sister."

Tara rose too. "Sit down!" she yelled, stamping her foot.

Cyrus looked shocked, but he sat down.

"You're having those dreams too, right?"

"Where some girl's trying to have sex with me and I have to push
her away? I wish."

"Do you remember getting a note about maybe you should do it a
little differently?"

"So you're saying I attack girls and try to have sex with them
when they're pushing me away?"

"Not in real life. Just in your dreams. We think you're a nice
guy and don't think you'd ever do anything like that. You're
nice."

Cyrus blushed, continuing to look away.

"But in your dreams -- I don't know. We figure you don't have any
control over it. We know guys dream of doing it to girls."

Melanie interrupted. "Girls dream about it too, you know. It's
really pretty nice -- as a dream."

Cyrus said, "It's impossible, you know. People don't show up in
other people's dreams because they want to."

"OK, it's impossible," said Tara. "But it's happening."

Cyrus glanced up at the two of them before lowering his gaze
again. "Did you ever hear of the 'id'? Something Freud thought
up."

"No. What's that got to do with it?"

"You know who Freud is?"

Both girls looked at him blankly.

"He's the founder of psychology. He had this idea that people
have unconscious parts of the brain that do things they're not
aware of. And the 'id' is the part that's like an animal and just
wants what it wants. Like sex."

"Whatever," said Tara.

"So you think it's your 'id' that gives you those dreams?" asked
Melanie.

"Yours too!"

"Ha! You admit it!" said Tara.

"But you're dreaming it too! Because you want it!" Cyrus said, a
look of panic in his eyes at what he'd admitted.

Tara said, "But that doesn't explain Hannah's dream, right?
You're not saying Hannah's secret desire is to have Mr. Anderson
abuse her!"

"Freud thought kids had sexy thoughts, though they're supposed to
be suppressed by age five. But look, what can I do? Suppose I am
having weird dreams."

"You are," said Tara. "You admitted it."

"OK, OK!" He slumped in his chair and switched to a more
confidential tone. "You've got to admit it's really embarrassing,
the way I dreamed of going after you again and again. And now
you're saying the only other guy who does this is a pervert."

"You're not the only one," said Tara, stealing a quick glance at
Melanie.

"Oh. Walter, one of them is Walter, right? But no -- he was doing
it to Leslie."

"You caught that, huh?" said Melanie with a smile.

"You have other guys doing it to you in your dreams? Who?"

Tara said, "Never mind who! But there are two other guys. One's a
kid, the other a teacher."

"Huh. But like I said before, do you suppose you dream about it
because deep down you really want it?"

"No! You guys are the ones who started it. And wouldn't give up!
The only reason we gave in in our dreams was so we could get some
sleep!""

"Deep down, who knows?" said Melanie quietly.

"OK, OK," said Tara. "We're trying to figure this out, to see if
we can help Hannah. You do it with both of us, right? Do you
dream of any others?"

"No, just you two."

"Not anyone else? Even Emily?" asked Melanie.

"What's Emily got to do with it?" said Cyrus hotly.

"Oh, I just meant her as an example. Not Rachel? Chloe?"

"No, no one else." Cyrus said.

"So, why did you start having the dreams?"

"No idea."

"Any way you can make them stop?"

"No. Believe me, if there was, I'd have stopped the moment I
thought maybe you were getting the dreams too!" he said.

"Do you, like, enjoy it? I mean in your dreams?" asked Melanie.

"What do you think?" answered Tara, rolling her eyes.

Melanie answered defensively, "I figured yeah, but you never know
for sure."

"Um, yeah," Cyrus said, trying to hide his smile. "It's nice. So
-- you just gave in 'cause you were tired?" he asked, unable to
hide a touch of disappointment as he glanced up briefly at
Melanie.

"Yes," said Tara crisply.

"But it's still a really nice dream," said Melanie. "Girls do
have urges too, like you implied. And since we can't do anything
in real life, I don't know, it's a cool dream. Or maybe a hot
dream."

"Oh," said Cyrus. Then he glanced up to meet Melanie's gaze, who
instantly looked down herself.

Tara wasn't sure she could quite believe it. It looked like
Melanie had a crush on Cyrus!

She continued, "But look, here's what we need to know. What can
we do for Hannah?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you sure there's nothing you could do to make it
stop somehow? Something Mr. Anderson could do?"

"Oh, I don't know how. Believe me, I tried. I tried everything I
could think of!"

Tara felt herself flush a little before she spoke. "I mean, boys,
um, jerk off sometimes, right? To get relief. So do you ever do
that?"

Cyrus matched color with Tara. "Oh, well -- yeah, I did. A lot.
As an experiment! Remember, I wasn't getting any sleep either. It
does no good at all."

"Oh," said Tara, her best idea gone. She started thinking out
loud. "We know of three of you -- four, if you count Mr. Anderson
-- who can get into a girl's dreams. But we figure most guys
don't do that. They don't go after girls in their dreams like
that."

"How do you know?"

"Well, Melanie figures a lot of guys dream about her -- or at
least daydream. But you're the only one who shows up in her
dreams." Tara wasn't quite sure why she'd lied like that, but she
didn't want to 'out' Melanie about just how many guys she was
dreaming about. But now it seemed like a lie she'd have to work
hard to keep up -- if Melanie cooperated.

Cyrus smiled knowingly. "Yeah, I guess that kind of proves it."

"Tons of guys are dreaming about you, too," said Melanie to her
friend, "and three are actually doing it."

Melanie and Tara's eyes met momentarily, and Melanie winked.

Cyrus returned to the problem at hand. "So, Mr. Anderson the
pervert dreams of diddling your baby sister. And she knows it --
feels it in her dreams too -- but no one believes it's a dream.
What are we supposed to do about it?"

"I told Hannah I believed her that it was just a dream, and she
seemed really thankful."

"Good." Cyrus furrowed his brow. "Maybe we could come up with a 
different way Hannah might have known about sex. Like maybe you
kept telling her stories about it over and over, Tara. Found
movies on the web and showed them to her."

"I wouldn't do that!"

"I didn't say you would. I'm just trying to think of a way to get
them to leave Hannah alone."

"Well, OK. Thanks. Can you imagine how much trouble I'd be in if
they believed I'd done that?"

"True, but I thought for the sake of your sister you might."

Tara for a moment doubted her selflessness. "But it would be
lying, and then I'd be asking Hannah to be part of a big lie. And
she couldn't keep it up."

"Hmmm, yeah, you're right," said Cyrus, who furrowed his brow
once more.

"I don't know what we can do," he said. "But I know a place to
start."

"What?" asked Tara.

"Talk to Mr. Anderson."

"Oh."

"That would be pretty scary," said Melanie. "I mean, him being a
pervert and all."

"We don't know he's a pervert. I mean, maybe he's trying to dream
about you, Tara, and the wires in this bizarre sleep-sex network
got crossed and hit the wrong person."

Melanie giggled.

Tara blushed. "I suppose you're right. We don't know much," she
said. Then she added, "But he'd still be a pervert."

"Not the same kind of pervert."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're -- grown-up looking. Besides, that was just an
example. Maybe he was dreaming about your mother. Or his wife. Or
you, Melanie -- lots of guys dream about you, right?"

It was Melanie's turn to blush. "I've never even met Mr.
Anderson."

"Yeah, but you've still got that magnetism... maybe it's so
strong it attracts guys from anywhere!" He was joking, but there
was something else in his look too.

"OK, OK," said Tara. "So we want to see Mr. Anderson. Do we just
call him up?"

"Maybe just Cyrus and I should go. I mean, you're really close to
your sister, and he might say things that would make you mad."

"Maybe I should just go by myself," said Cyrus.

"Why?"

"A man-to-man talk. If it's like what happens to me, it's really
hard to talk about it in front of girls."

"As we found out," said Tara. "I thought we'd never get you to
admit it."

"Yeah, as you found out," said Cyrus. "I mean -- I'm not an
animal, OK?" He looked sheepish. "You really felt me being like
super-impolite?"

"Grabbing my boob."

"Patting my butt," said Melanie.

"Trying to push my legs apart. Digging your hand under my panty
crotch. Shoving me against the wall."

Cyrus turned red again. "I'm sorry," he said.

"You didn't mean it," said Melanie softly. "We know you didn't
really mean it."

"Thanks," murmured Cyrus.

She smiles as she added, "Maybe you've just got a really big, fat
'id'."

---------------------------------------------------------

"So, you're a friend of Hannah's sister Tara? I've met her a
couple times," said Mr. Anderson.

"A sort of friend," said Cyrus. "Not like a friend friend."

"OK."

"It's about this thing with Hannah," Cyrus said.

Mr. Anderson sat up straight in his chair. "I'm not sure I want
to talk about anything to do with Hannah," he said.

"OK, OK, sorry. You don't have to say anything. Just listen for a
while."

And Cyrus relayed the story of the young people and their
well-coordinated sexy dreams. Mr. Anderson sat in rapt attention.

"OK," he said cautiously. "That's very interesting."

"Well, Hannah had the same sort of pattern. It was especially
interesting that when she said no to you --"

"I have never suggested anything improper with Hannah."

"I mean, at least from her point of view, in her dream, when she
said no, then you kept coming back again and again."

"Did you say she's still having the dream?" asked Mr. Anderson.

"I think that's what Tara implied. But the thing is, we're trying
to figure out how you could stop having the dream. Or stop
transmitting the dream. Something."

"I'm not saying I've had any sort of dreams related to this,"
said Mr. Anderson. After a pause, he added, "You've told me you
haven't found a way to get yours to stop."

"Yeah, that's true." Cyrus thought a moment. "Another thing would
be for you and Hannah to just tell people about your matching
dreams. I mean, if you both say the same thing, and the story
holds up, then maybe they'll leave you alone. You didn't do
anything wrong, right? You said that."

Mr. Anderson was silent a moment. "Yes, you're absolutely right.
I've never said or done anything inappropriate with any child,
ever. But there are two problems. Let's say I were having these
dreams -- and I'm not saying I am, let's just assume it for the
sake of argument. What you're talking about is telepathy --
something only wackos really believe in. I'd recommend that you
and the other two of you don't say anything about this -- people
are going to think you're crazy. And they'd think I was crazy.
They're already treating Hannah as half-crazy, and she's just a
little kid!"

"Oh, yeah, I guess you have a point."

"And the other thing is -- this is just between you and me, OK?"

"Yeah."

"If I was having these dreams -- and I'm not saying I am-- how do
you think people would treat me if I admitted to having dreams
about sex with a little girl?"

"I don't know -- if you've never done anything, just the dreams?"

Cyrus saw Mr. Anderson regarding him with a cold stare.

"Just the dreams, eh? Some thoughts are just unacceptable, Cyrus.
The thought by itself is all it takes." He shifted to a louder
voice. "That is, *if* any of this were true, if I had any
thoughts like that, which I don't. I don't know what the trouble
is with Hannah -- I feel for her. They think maybe her own father
abused her, and she's blaming it on me, because I'm another man
she knows."

"But she's not saying anyone abused her!"

"I know, I know. Dreaming of abuse -- it's almost the same
thing."

"Well, OK," said Cyrus, defeated. "I was just trying to help."

Mr. Anderson shifted his tone once more. "I do thank you for
coming, Cyrus. Thank you for caring about a troubled little girl.
And, I really have found your thoughts very interesting. Very,
very interesting." He offered his hand, they shook, and Cyrus
left.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Hi, Henny-poo," said Tara, ruffling her sister's hair. "How's it
going?"

"I'm Hannah now!" said her sister.

"OK, sorry, I'll try to remember to call you Hannah every single
time. How's it going?"

Hannah reached her arms up to Tara for a lift. Tara sat on
Hannah's bed and leaned back against the wall, while the young
girl climbed aboard, snuggled up, and started sucking her thumb.

Tara hadn't seen her suck her thumb in years.

"I'm so tired," she said. "The dream keeps coming back, over and
over."

"I've had a few more ideas," said Tara. Most of the ideas were
from Cyrus; she was really glad she'd brought him in on this.
"First, I really believe you that it's just a dream you're
having, right?"

Hannah nodded and smiled as best she could with a thumb in her
mouth.

"In the early days, when Mr. Anderson was wiggling his thingie
back and forth and you let him, you didn't mind so much, did
you?"

"Mommy and everyone says it was bad."

"Yeah, I know they say that. But they think it's not just a
dream, right? You and I know it's just a dream."

Hannah looked up at her sister a moment, then snuggled harder
against her.

"So since we know what's really going on, and they don't -- I
think that when he comes to you in the dream, you should just let
him do it again. I mean, if you don't mind. Maybe you'd start
sleeping well again."

"But it's bad, what he did."

"It would be very bad if he actually did it to you, but you're
just having a dream, right? Dreams aren't bad? I mean, there are
bad dreams, but that's different. You can't do bad things just
from what you dream."

"So I can just let him do it?"

"In the dream."

"Oh." Hannah was silent a moment. "Is Mr. Anderson a bad man?"

"I don't really know. You say he's never done anything, right?
Not in real life?"

"No."

"He's been kind to you. Never touched you funny or anything?"

"Yeah, he's kind. I feel kind of special around him -- I mean I
used to, when I was over at Kate's sometimes. But not bad."

"You're sure?"

"Yes! You're getting as bad as all those police people!"

"Sorry."

==================================================
Chapter 3

Cyrus's secret was out, and it was a relief. The girls knew he
had dreamed of pawing and poking and almost starting to rape
them, over and over again. That was shameful and embarrassing.
But they'd accepted it as natural for a boy, albeit without
enthusiasm.

He smiled. They'd also accepted his dream cock, straight and hard
and deep.

It was easier to be around them now. With Melanie, it looked like
it hadn't just been some accident or trick when she'd asked him
over. She really seemed to have a thing for him -- some kind of
thing. And he couldn't figure out what he should be doing about
it, if anything. He was only twelve, and an awkward nerd to boot.

It was more comfortable with Tara. Yeah, they fucked every night
in their dreams, but it felt like just hormones, just sex. And he
really felt bad for her sister, both because she was a little kid
in a tough spot, but also because the strange power or disease or
whatever it was that caused this little girl's problem was one he
had too. He was pretty sure Mr. Anderson did dream of screwing
the little girl -- which kind of made him shudder. And imagine
what it would be like, again and again throughout the night,
trying to get into the poor little girl's junior pussy, and
having her shove him away. What horrible dreams! They were bad
enough when he'd been trying to do it with girls his own age, but
to be constantly trying to rape a little girl? Blech! Unless of
course you really did deep down want to have sex with a little
girl. What would that really feel like? He didn't know, and he
didn't want to know. Perverts were disgusting.

---------------------------------------------------------

Tara had invited him over after school so he could meet Hannah
and see if anything she said could give him more ideas.

"Hello, there, Hannah," he said.

She was the cutest little thing on two legs. Bright smile,
perfect little face. He knew she was unhappy and anxious, which
made him wonder what she'd look like if she was happy!

"Hi," she said.

"I've got something to show you." He'd brought over a levitating
magnetic top, something little kids loved. You set this heavy
little top spinning really fast on a big magnetic base, lifted it
a little, and it just sat there spinning in mid-air. Hannah was
delighted with it, and that occupied them for half an hour.

She then asked if he could read her a book. He was happy to and
got into it, finding a different voice for each character, which
made Hannah giggle. Halfway through she climbed up on his lap and
leaned against him as he read. What a dear, sweet child!

How could a man dream of having sex with a girl like this? She
was pretty, true, and sweet, and her little body was magnificent
in its own way -- just not that way.

Tara stayed in the background during their play session. Once
Hannah was comfortable with him, Tara joined them for a talk
about what she was going through -- what it was like for her.

Cyrus didn't learn anything particularly useful. But it was weird
to hear her talk about Mr. Anderson's big penis and see her poke
her own penis finger in and out of a tube of vagina fingers from
her other hand. It was weird to see her demonstrate lying back
with legs spread -- even if she did keep her dress smoothed down
to preserve her modesty. It was weird to see her pointing her
finger right there at her dress between her legs. It was weird to
see her face contort like a man's would when he was about to have
an orgasm. Little girls didn't usually do any of those things.
But she relayed them without shame.

Tara explained that Hannah had to act all solemn and sad when she
described this to other people. But she knew Tara believed it was
a dream and didn't judge her. She was terribly thankful to her
sister for giving her permission to just give in to Mr. Anderson
when he came to her in her dreams, and now she was sleeping so
much better.  So with Tara around she could make contact with the
part of the experience that was a fun, exciting adventure.

---------------------------------------------------------

Cyrus woke and stretched, having slept fairly well. But when a
few of his dreams came back to him, his heart pounded and he
burned with shame. He'd screwed Melanie once early in the night,
and then Tara. That was fine. But then Hannah had shown up in his
dreams. And he had nudged her onto her back and nudged her legs
apart. He was naked and his cock was hard. Why was it hard? She
was just a little girl! The memory of his hard, twitching cock
made him a little sick to his stomach. She'd pushed him away the
first time, and the second, but the third time she'd let him go
for it. And an icy chill went through him as he recovered that
memory of driving home, driving to the hilt up under the small
girl's dress. In the dream she had been every bit as hot and wet
and silky as the big girls -- and a little bit tighter. He'd
lasted maybe a minute, while Hannah gave him a  look of
curiosity. And then he'd come, his dream-self ecstatic to shoot
his sperm deep in the little girl's body. What the hell was all
that about?

And then the horror doubled. Because if this fit with the
pattern, the real Hannah had shared the exact same dream. First
the pervert Mr. Anderson, and then him, Cyrus. She had trusted
him so much in their delightful afternoon together, and what had
he done with the trust? Betrayed it, violated it, violated her,
raped a little girl. Only in his dream, true, but in a dream she
shared. First the pervert Mr. Anderson, now the pervert Cyrus.

He had to keep it quiet, of course. But how could he do that? How
could he ask Hannah to keep that secret -- if he did get to her
before she told Tara. And if Tara knew, others would find out,
including Melanie -- and eventually even Emily.

Cyrus convinced his parents he was too sick to go to school. He
didn't have to fake the part about feeling awful. All day he went
through anger, shame, guilt, and fear, varying as regularly as
fever and chills. At last he knew what he had to do. After
dinner, he biked over to Tara and Hannah's house and rang the
bell without prior arrangement.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Hi, Cyrus!" said Tara. "I didn't expect to see you! You never
get sick. But you're looking awfully pale. Are you feeling
better?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he said.

Tara's mother had answered the door, and now peered in from the
kitchen in interest at the unusual evening visit.

"Can we talk alone?' he asked.

"Sure," she said, and she led him to her room.

"How's Hannah?" he asked, voice trembling.

"She's sulking, I'm afraid. Last night she kept chatting all
through dinner about what you'd done with the top and your voice
in the story and all. This morning she said quietly that she'd
had a dream about you. I laughed, 'Not a dream like with Mr.
Anderson, I hope.' Then she walked out and hasn't said much of
anything since."

She turned to her friend. "So what was wrong with you? Are you
all better? Say, you look awful!"

"You have to go talk to Hannah," Cyrus said in a flat voice that
didn't sound like him. He was walking calmly to the scaffold.

"Why?"

"Because she wasn't making it up."

"Making what up?"

"The dream about me."

"You dreamed about her too? What, doing it to her?" she asked,
laughing.

"Yes," he said simply. "I'm so sorry."

Tara froze, eyes open wide. "You did? My sister? You're kidding!"

"I'm not kidding. Worry about me later. You need to go to Hannah,
and apologize for not believing her, right?"

"You asshole!" said Tara, half shouting. "How could you?"

"I didn't mean to! I never meant to do any of it, right? But
please -- do the right thing for your sister. Hannah first, OK?"

With a hard last look, Tara nearly slammed the door on him,
corralling the pervert in her bedroom to be dealt with later.

Through the door, Cyrus heard quiet voices, a little crying, more
soft voices, and -- he breathed a sigh of relief -- laughter! Or
were they plotting just how to humiliate him most thoroughly?

The clock on Tara's desk told him she had been gone only 14
minutes. As she shut the door behind her, Cyrus steeled himself
for anything.

"She pushed you away and you kept coming back?"

"Twice, yeah."

"Asshole!" Tara grabbed a sweater that was lying on her dresser
and hurled it at Cyrus with all her might.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Pervert. Asshole. Prick. Rapist. Slimeball. Shithead," repeated
Tara, pacing.

"Sorry."

"You nailed me pretty good right after you went to bed, but it
wasn't enough, huh? You did Melanie too, I suppose?"

Cyrus nodded.

"Two gorgeous babes spread their legs for you, you fuck 'em both
to the hilt, and it's not enough. You have to go rape my fucking
little sister!" she hissed.

Cyrus started crying, first holding back the stomach contractions
as best he could. But within seconds he was openly sobbing. He
looked down and closed his eyes, seeing no point in shielding
himself from whatever missile Tara saw fit to use next.

But sometimes, of course, such raw emotion serves multiple
purposes.

"You didn't plan it, right?"

Cyrus shook his head.

"You didn't come over yesterday and get her to plop her butt down
in your lap so you could dream about fucking it later?"

Cyrus shook his head again.

They heard a soft knocking on the door.

"Go away!" shouted Tara.

But the door opened anyway, and it was not a concerned parent who
appeared. It was Hannah.

"What's wrong, Cyrus?" she asked in her pure voice.

Cyrus looked up briefly into the sweet face and felt a new wave
of shame crash over him.

Tara said, "It's OK, Hannah, there's nothing for you to worry
about. Go back to your room."

But Hannah had other ideas. She hopped up on the bed next to
Cyrus and leaned against him, putting a small arm around behind
his back.

"What's wrong?" repeated the little one.

Cyrus felt completely lost, but his one anchor was the little
girl. He could do what was best for her.

"You remember your dreams last night?"

"Yeah."

"The ones with me in them?"

Hannah gave a conspiratorial grin.

"Well, I'm not supposed to have dreams like that. You're never
supposed to have men doing things like that to you."

"In real life right? But in dreams it's OK."

"Not really."

"But that's what you've been telling me all this time."

"Oh, it's OK for you. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one
who did something wrong."

Hannah frowned, was silent a moment, and then spoke. "You should
stop crying. I'm sick of everyone getting all sad because of my
funny dreams." And with that, she squirmed her way into Cyrus's
lap and leaned back against him.

Cyrus was touched and felt an impulse to cry again, but found he
could control himself for the sake of the girl in his lap. She'd
said not to cry, and he'd do his best not to.

He had no trace of an erection or any erotic feelings for the
girl. He felt tender, protective, loving. She seemed unaware of
her little butt in her pajamas resting warmly on his crotch. His
sleeping cock flopped inside his pants, inches from her own
genitals, which were hidden in panties up under her nightgown.
They had shared a dream the night before wherein the stiff
incarnation of his cock had filled that little pussy with an
urgency of desire, but it didn't seem to matter to Hannah. And
when he thought about it the right way, it didn't matter to him
either.

Cyrus leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of Hannah's head. As
he did, his eyes locked with Tara's, and he held the kiss for a
second. Her expression was hard to read.

The little girl yawned.

"I feel much better, Hannah. Time for bed now?"

"OK," she said, scrambling up. On the way, she kissed Cyrus on
the cheek and giggled.

"Maybe I'd better go too?" Cyrus asked after she'd left.

"Yeah, I think you should," said Tara.

And as he walked home, Cyrus thought about things. I must not
dream about Hannah again, he thought. I absolutely must not. If
there is one wish I ever need to have granted, he thought, it's
that I not dream about Hannah again. Not Hannah!

---------------------------------------------------------

Cyrus appeared naked beside Tara. There was her pussy, and it was
time to mate -- but she pushed him away.

Some time later he appeared beside Melanie. Her legs were already
spread wide, her pussy glistening, and she smiled as she welcomed
him inside. She'd cut short his efforts to be a better lover
lately. He glided in and out of his dream goddess with
ever-increasing pleasure, before fulfilling his male nature,
delivering his payload in a glow of satisfaction.

Later he dreamed he lay on top of Tara, penis against her
stomach, but the angry-looking girl threw him off, her mouth open
and yelling something he couldn't hear.

There was little Hannah, smiling up at him. With bright eyes she
hitched up her skirts and spread her legs wide. He wanted her, so
he took her. He had a nagging feeling that there was something he
was supposed to remember, but he couldn't. He saw his cock tip
nudging against her cute little labia, then looked up at her face
as his cock somehow drove deep into the little girl, whose pussy
gripped him tightly with exquisite warmth. Ten strokes later his
dream orgasm flooded the little girl with sperm while she grinned
at him, and then the scene vanished.

There was Tara again, sitting naked on the bed, legs crossed and
hands crossed over her small breasts, glaring at him. He pulled
her arm aside to see the nipple underneath, but she quickly
covered it up again. He tried again, with similar results. He
felt more than lust, he felt anger. He tried pushing her back
onto the bed, and she resisted once more. And then in the dream
she spat on his face. Now he was furious and shoved her down with
all his might. She wriggled with all her strength, but it wasn't
enough. She raised her knee quickly, catching him in the balls,
and it hurt -- though more in theory than in practice. He slapped
her face and shook her shoulders, and she lay back, shocked. It
was hard work prying her legs apart, but he managed, pinning them
with his knees. With his fingers he roughly tore her labial folds
open and lodged his hungry stiff tip against her inner folds. He
shoved, and her tissues could offer no resistance. With one palm
pressing down against each upper inner thigh, holding her apart,
he jammed deep over and over. He'd fuck her, yeah, but he'd also
teach her a lesson. He was the boss. How dare she spit in his
face or knee his balls! His pleasure built, his anger intertwined
with lust, and he shot his load deep in the still-struggling
girl. Take that, cunt, he thought. His lust and anger faded in
tandem with his spurts, and soon the scene ended.

---------------------------------------------------------

In French class, Tara glared at Cyrus and Cyrus glared right
back. They didn't speak that day, or the next.

Melanie listened patiently to Tara's side of the story, told with
venom over and over. She managed to get an account of events from
Cyrus, though not as thorough and delivered in far fewer words.
Then she dragged the two of them together into the French
classroom after school.

"You raped me!"

"I'm sorry, but it was just a dream. And you spit in my face."

"Well, why were you trying to do me when I was pushing you away,
over and over?"

"What have I ever been trying to do? I was trying to fuck you."

"Did you fuck my sister too? Again?"

"Yes. She had that evil little grin on her face, but she didn't
mind."

"You're a pervert!"

"My id does what it wants. I don't have any control over it!"

"You never forced yourself on me before."

"No, I never did. I guess I was really mad. Especially after you
kneed me in the balls!"

"Cyrus! Tara!" interrupted Melanie.

"I suppose you fucked her too."

"Melanie and I made love, I think you'd say."

"She's a slut. She'll open up her cunt for any cock that wants
her."

"Hey!" said Melanie.

Cyrus smiled sadly and shook his head.

"Pervert!" hissed Tara.

"Tara! Shut up!" yelled Melanie.

After a few moments of silence, she continued, "Cyrus pointed out
that Hannah wasn't just being a little girl that afternoon. She
was showing just how she lay back to take Mr. Anderson, she mimed
intercourse with her hands, and she pointed between her legs.
Besides which, Cyrus's introduction to her was because she was
having dreams of getting molested."

"So what?"

"So, she was sort of, kind of asking for it, in a way."

"She was not!"

"Not for real, no, but you could see a boy's id might get
confused in his dreams."

Tara thought about that for a moment. "So if your id wants to
screw your mother, you'll just let it? What about Mrs. Dubois?"
she said, tossing her head momentarily up towards the teacher's
desk. She laughed. "What about your father, huh? Dogs? You want
to do it with dogs? Squirrels, maybe?"

Cyrus sat, looking down. "I can't say that any of those appeal to
me, but if my id decided it wants to, I still have no idea what I
could do to stop it."

Another brief silence. "Would you force yourself on Hannah? In
your dreams, I mean?"

"No," Cyrus answered firmly.

"How do you know what your 'id' might do?"

"I just know it," he said. "She's just a kid. I could never do
that to a kid."

"What if she spit in your face or kicked you in the balls?"

Cyrus shook his head. "Not Hannah."

Melanie said, "Tara, in the real world, in what he can control,
Cyrus has been trying very hard to help Hannah, right? To help
you and Hannah?"

Tara sighed. "I'm sorry for kicking you in the balls."

"It's OK. You couldn't help it. I'm really, really sorry for
hitting you -- and raping you."

"OK. What else?" asked Tara, arms folded, staring at him
defiantly.

"I'm incredibly sorry for having sex with your sister. Twice."

"Shake?" asked Melanie. "Like in one of those old guy flicks?"

Tara stuck out her hand and Cyrus shook it, but Tara wasn't quite
done. "Next time maybe I'll bring a knife into my dream and cut
your dick off. It's just a dream, right?"

"Yeah," sighed Cyrus. "I wouldn't blame you. Hopefully that would
just stay in the dream like everything else," he said, his hand
unconsciously moving to cover his crotch.

The girls looked down at it and smiled. Cyrus saw, smiled too,
and moved his hand aside.

Melanie reached down and patted the front of his pants. "Nice
little cock," she said.

"How is Hannah?" asked Cyrus quietly.

"OK, I guess. Not much has changed. But she still can't see Kate.
And they come twice a week to interview her and the rest of us."

"I had another thought about Hannah."

"Besides screwing her?"

"Come on, Tara," said Melanie.

"You know how I said before that Hannah could lie about how she
knew about sex?"

"Yeah."

"And you pointed out rightly that we didn't want to make her lie,
and even if she was willing she wouldn't be able to keep a
straight story. That made me think of something that might work."

Melanie was skeptical at first, and Tara was outraged, but as he
explained it over and over, eventually they came on board. It
might take Tara a long time to really forgive Cyrus, but she
loved her sister more than she hated him.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Hannah, I want to show you some stuff, OK?"

"What kind of stuff?" said Hannah happily.

"Here on my computer."

She pulled up a chair and looked.

"That's a penis!"

"Yeah, you recognize it, huh?"

"Yeah, it looks like Mr. Anderson's, not Cyrus's."

"Why?"

"The thing on top is all showing like that."

"Oh, you're right," said Hannah. Cyrus wasn't circumcised.

Hannah went on through the pictures, showing her naked women and
men in various stages of lovemaking. To keep things simple,
they'd edited the pictures to show nothing but grown-ups in
stages leading straight to ordinary intercourse. No
breast-sucking, no oral sex, nothing anal. No toys.

She ended with a couple short video clips of adults screwing,
gentle missionary-position fucks.

"Was that interesting, Hannah?"

"Yeah, I guess. Why'd you show it to me?"

"Oh, I just thought a little girl should know about the facts of
life."

"Those are the facts of life?"

"Well, that's what mommies and daddies do all the time. And it's
what they do to make babies."

"Really?"

Tara explained reproduction. Hannah listened in fascination. The
only way her reaction differed from that of a typical
five-year-old was that she didn't make the "grossed out" face.
She already knew about that part.

"So, is it a secret?" whispered Hannah.

"I'd rather you didn't tell mommy or daddy right away. But you
could mention it to the social workers when they ask."

"Why?"

"You know how they don't believe you just dreamed this stuff?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, this is another way you could have learned about it,
right?"

"That's silly. I already knew all about it."

"Yeah, but you could have gotten mixed up about what happened
when, right?"

"No! They're always telling me I'm mixed up! I'm not mixed up
about stuff!"

"No, of course not, honey. Just tell them the truth. But I'll
give you a little advice: if you say you might have gotten mixed
up about this, I think they'll stop asking you all those
questions."

Hannah just frowned.

"Don't worry about it, Henny -- I mean, Hannah, Hannah! Do
whatever you want. I believe everything you say, and you don't
have to lie. But -- if you tell them you might be confused about
this, I think things will go better for you."

As Hannah left, Tara thought: But not for me.

---------------------------------------------------------

Tara's parents were furious. She said maybe she'd shown Hannah
that stuff before she started having any dreams, and she was so
sorry she hadn't come forward before, but, well, she didn't want
to get in trouble, right? No one could blame her for that.

She accepted her punishment as calmly as she could. Sometimes
when Cyrus appeared for his twice-nightly fucks, she'd cling to
him, and he wouldn't disappear for a whole minute after he came.

But it seemed to be working. The social workers explained to her
parents that this might solve the biggest mystery and exonerate
Mr. Anderson -- and Hannah's father too, though they didn't
mention him explicitly.

---------------------------------------------------------

"What's wrong, Tara?"

"They seized all our computers."

"What?"

"We don't have any computers. They seized them as part of the
investigation. I guess we can get new ones."

"Oh, shit."

"What?"

"Shit, shit, shit. I forgot."

"What's wrong?"

"Damn!"

"Tell me already, or I'll kick you in the balls!"

"They'll go over the histories. They'll be able to tell that you
didn't download the stuff until afterward, when you really did.
We're screwed."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

"It's OK, you tried."

"Well, thanks. Some geek I am..."

---------------------------------------------------------

"Hannah's upset again, and she wouldn't say why."

"But she did?" said Cyrus.

"I was coaxing it out of her for half an hour this morning. She
finally told me, but made me swear not to tell anyone."

"And what did she say?"

"I swore not to tell anyone."

"Aw, c'mon."

"I promised."

"Tara, I'm gonna dream my dick is six feet long, and I'm gonna
get it all the way in. I'm on your side, right?"

Tara smiled. "Of course I was gonna tell you. Another guy came to
her in her dreams."

"Oh great, just what she needs."

"Yeah. Her dreams about Mr. Anderson are what started this whole
mess, and then when she dreamed about you, first I laugh at her,
then she finds you crying and me yelling at you. So it was really
hard to get her to say who the new guy was. And when she did, my
heart sank. Just the one person we need least."

"Who is it?"

"Detective Barnes. The guy who's just come in to oversee the
investigation."

Cyrus thought for a moment, then he thought some more.

"What? Why are you smiling?"

"I have a hunch. I think this might be good news, not bad news."

"Tell me!"

"Give me a while. I want to talk to Mr. Anderson."

He reached Kate's father on his cell phone during lunch period.

When he hung up and found Tara, he was grinning broadly.

"Our problems are solved. Tell your parents that Hannah has
something important to tell Detective Barnes. Something that
can't wait. She has to tell him right after school -- just him
and nobody else. Before they do more work with your computers."

"Why? What do we want her to say now?"

"She has to just tell the truth this time."

"Why? Are you kidding? And I promised not to tell!"

"Well, then you can try to explain it to her yourself. I think
even a five-year-old can get it."

"OK, shoot."

"Hannah has the dreams because the guy is having the same dream,
right? Mr. Anderson actually dreams of having sex with your
little sister every night, right?"

"Right."

"And so do I, right?"

"Don't remind me, pervert," she said.

"So the detective is too, right? He's having a very naughty
dream. Has it happened more than once?"

"Twice last night and twice the night before, according to
Hannah."

"Even better!"

"But the detective hasn't ever been alone with her. No one could
say he abused her."

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that he knows he's had the
dreams. He doesn't know why, but he knows he's had them. And he's
probably had them because he's attracted to little girls, and he
probably knows he is. And this little girl who can tap his dreams
is going to make him nervous. Very nervous. The last thing he
wants is for anyone he works with to suspect he might be
attracted to young girls. Don't you see?"

"Huh." She was silent a moment. "I guess, but I'm not sure Hannah
will. She's not going to get these layers of who might think
something about somebody else."

Cyrus bowed his head for a moment. "Put it to her like this: No
one believes what she's saying about Mr. Anderson is just a
dream. But if it's a dream with Detective Barnes, then he'll know
it's just a dream so he'll believe her."

"Yeah, OK, maybe. She might get that. Are you sure this is gonna
work?"

"Pretty sure. But Mr. Anderson was really enthusiastic, and I
think he knows a lot more than we do about grown-ups and
reputations and all."

---------------------------------------------------------

The Andersons' computers were returned promptly, and the
investigation closed. No restrictions were placed on Mr. Anderson
or Hannah and Tara's father, and the records of the incident were
sealed. Tara's parents softened their disapproval of her sex
education session with Hannah when they saw the role it played in
getting the authorities off of their backs.

Hannah's first visit at Kate's house was watched closely by the
two mothers. They both held their breaths when Kate's father
walked in.

"Hello, Hannah," he said softly.

"Hi, Mr. Anderson," she said. "I'm sorry about my dreams."

"That's OK, Hannah, no one's responsible for their dreams."

"Can you read us a story?" she asked.

"Yeah, can you?" said Kate.

"OK," he said, and sat on the sofa. Kate scrambled up beside him,
and Hannah headed for the other side.

"Why don't you sit over on the other side of Kate?" he suggested.

"I can't see that way."

"You can stretch, right?"

"I guess," she muttered.

"I've got an idea," said Kate's mother. "Why doesn't Kate hold
the book, so you can both stretch just a little."

"Good idea," said Mr. Anderson, relieved.

And so began the back-and-forth visits again, much like the old
ones -- but with more reserve, everyone watchful. Every glance,
every little touch, everything was scrutinized silently by the
grown-ups -- and by the girls to, to a lesser extent.

---------------------------------------------------------

Tara listened to the conversation in the living room.

"You play the little girl and I'll play the social worker," said
Hannah.

"I want to be the social worker!" said Kate.

"No, me!"

"Me!"

"ME!" shouted Hannah.

"OK," said Kate, looking at her warily.

"How long have you been having these so-called 'dreams'?"

"Um, two weeks?"

"Good, good. And did that man touch you on the chest?"

"I don't know."

"Say, 'Only in my dream.'"

"Only in my dream."

"And did he kiss you on the lips?"

"Huh?"

"Say 'Only in my dream'. You always say, 'Only in my dream.'"

"OK. 'Only in my dream'."

"Did he touch your legs?"

"Only in my dream."

"How about your chest?"

"Only in my dream. You already asked that."

"Never mind, I'm asking it again."

"Did he put his hand up under your dress?"

"Only in my dream."

"Did he touch you between the legs?"

"Only in my dream."

"Did he try to pull up your dress so he could see between your
legs?"

"This is getting boring."

"Answer the question."

"Only in my dream. This is dumb."

"How about his body. Did he show you any part of himself you
don't usually see?"

"This is so boring. I don't want to do this any more."

"But we're just getting started! Take a little break if you want,
then we'll take up right where we left off, OK?" said Hannah
sternly.

"All right," groaned Kate.

Hannah burst into laughter, followed a little later by Kate.

"Now can we play horses?"

"OK," said Hannah cheerfully.

---------------------------------------------------------

Cyrus's encounters with his three dream lovers were all quite
distinct.

With Melanie it was entirely lust. Sure, they liked and respected
each other, but it was the animal drive for sexual satisfaction
that moved them. Did Melanie want more? Maybe, he thought
sometimes. But he wasn't sure what he wanted.

With Tara, the landscape was more complicated. Yes, they desired
each other sexually, but it was more the consummation of their
emotional relationship. They had been through some emotional
highs and lows as they struggled to help Hannah. Tara had
eventually accepted his sexual dreams with Hannah with a shrug.
They were just dreams, they all insisted, over and over. Tara was
the only one of his three lovers who came during their dream
encounters -- over and over and over again. And he sometimes
mused that it was no accident that he had appeared in Tara's
dreams first -- before Melanie.

With Hannah, once his desire for her had been triggered, he came
to her every night in their dreams, even though they might go
months without seeing each other in real life. He had gradually
resigned himself to whatever it was that made him dream of sex
with her. He felt no such attraction to her or any other little
girl when he was awake. In their dreams, he and Hannah had quick
sex -- sex he found sweet and pure and satisfying in a way his
two more mature dream lovers couldn't provide. She seemed to feel
no sexual pleasure in the dream, though she felt no pain either.
As far as he could tell, for her the experience would have been
similar to Cyrus wanting to poke his finger in and out of her
mouth into her cheek for thirty seconds each day. It was neither
humiliating nor uplifting, just a strange thing this grown-up
really wanted to do. She seemed proud and happy she could help
him achieve such obvious pleasure that way. It seemed that her
immunity to psychological harm within the dream world was tied to
the fact that he couldn't control his attempts to possess her
sexually -- and that it was after all just a dream world. In the
physical world, her delicate private parts remained entirely
private, unsullied by even leering glances, let alone intimate
rubbings of flesh on flesh. Once two nights had gone by without
him appearing in his dreams, and part of him hoped maybe the
dreams would stop. After they started again, Tara reported with
incredulity that Hannah told her she had missed it!

The various participants in dream-world sex had between one and
seven encounters each night. Each was brief, each a dream, and
each satisfied a need for REM sleep along the way. All the
participants learned to keep it a secret from the rest of the
world -- even Hannah, once she got out of her initial morass.

They never heard of such a thing being reported elsewhere. They
had no idea why it happened to them. But it happened, and it
wasn't all bad. Cyrus smiled. Not bad at all.

============================================================

What did you think? I'm always eager for comments, whether
positive, negative or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com.