Nightmare and Anubis... Thing

>>15500006
>>15500008
>>15500015
Oh, that'd be great. The moment the anubis drifts asleep, she sits up. But she knows she's dreaming, and that can't be right. Then, she realises where she is, and why she's lucid.

Of course, she's on a bed that stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction, soft and white, layered in pillows and blankets strewn about everywhere. And of course she's naked. Why wouldn't she be? This is HER dream, after all. Or rather, Her power, manifesting in His dream.

How is that even fair, she thinks to herself, that every night they both get to become gods of their dream world, and she just has to comply with whatever whims they might have? Is it because she's usually the one in charge during the day? Maybe, but that's not going to stop the anubis now.

Even if she can look up behind her, and see the Nightmare's colossal shadowy form in the sky.
No, wait, she IS the sky, more or less. Impossibly huge, a black, cloaked silhouette where her eyes and smile can be made out like impossibly enourmous celestial obejcts, her sycthe looking like it could cleave through Saturn's rings. And people say the anubis is a control freak.

"Hi, dear!" the nightmare says. It's always such a contrast from her usual meek self in the waking world. Then again, she can do anything here. Look like anything. Become anything. Command anything.

"Lovely night tonight, isn't it?" she continues. "Just perfect for a bit of fun."

The anubis sighs. "Lets just get this over with, shall we?"

"Hmmm," the nightmare's hum echoes across the landscape, from every direction, completely omnipresent. "No."

"What?" The anubis cocks her head and flicks her ears at her wife.

"We're doing something different tonight? Something with higher stakes. After all, you seem to be to getting a little bored of the routine. That is so unlike you!"

"Hey, I-" the anubis lips' keep moving, but suddenly she has no voice. (What the hell?) she mouths, panic settling in. (What did you do to me?) Her paws go to her throat, trying to do anything, to clear her lungs, to cough out whatever it is. But there's nothing wrong with her. She can breath, click her tongue, speak, move her lips, shout, and there's simply no sound.
"Ah, much better. Now, how about... this."

Suddenly the anubis isn't on the bed any more. She's about two feet above it, "lying" on her back with her limbs splayed. Just fixed in place in the air. She can't move her limbs, only her eyes and her mouth, a prisoner in her own body with not a single restraining force acting on it. Like she's just a passenger, an observer. (I'm serious! When we wake up tomorrow, I am covering you in itching powder and binding you in bandages for the whole day!)

"Oh, dear, whoever said you'd be waking up tommorow?" the nightmare says, apparently still able to understand her helpless silence.
(W-what?) Suddenly, for the first time, the anubis is actually a little uncertain. Even scared. That's when she can feel something. No, two things at once. Her own body in the dream, static in the air, muscles completely unresponsive, and her waking body, all warm under the covers, lying back on top of her husband's chest. But she can feel something else, real and solid, and downright overpowering in the dream world to the point where it's warping and overriding the "reality" she can experience.

Her paws, out of her control in her sleeping state, one pinching her nipple so perfectly hard it's sending the ghost of blissful spasms through her unmoving dream body. One paw between her legs, her little pink pawpad rubbing up and down inside her, rocking warm waves through her body, filling her up like she's a container for liquid arousal, just ready to burst. And her husband's sleeping hardon through her pyjamas, rubbing between her buttocks and leaving trails of cool, slick pre on her behind.

She can feel it all, but she's helpless. Her body airborne and unmoving in the dream world, completely at the whim of the nightmare, and her real body locked in some perverse sleep paralysis? Is it the nightmare controlling her, making her knead her breasts, squeeze her nipples to the point where pleasure becomes dull pain, or just the anubis' own arousal?

She can't bring herself to ignore it even slightly, but she has to focus on the nightmare's omninous words.

"I think we should play a little game," she continues. "Just the three of us?"

(Three?)

"Yeah, uh, hey, sweetie."

(Husband? Oh, thank god!) Relief floods the anubis' mind as she hears the voice of her beloved husband, and he comes into view standing at her side. (Would you please tell our dear lady here to stop this foolery? This is your dream after all.)

"Oh, did I forget to mention, dear? He can't hear you. But don't worry, we've got this all planned out."

(What? N-no...)

"Sorry, sweetie. But you'll love this, I promise. Well, most of it." He smiles down at her.

(You ass.)

"But you know neither of us would do anything to hurt or wrong you, right?"

For as much of an ass as he is though, he always knows the right thing to say. And he's right. The three of them share a relationship that is, while full of ups and downs, solid and built on trust.

He leans down to kiss her, and the feeling is electric, especially with all her compounded arousal and pleasure in both her physical and mental bodies, overlapping in completely different and supernatual states of bondage. Then, his hand moves to her breast, pinching her nipple in a perfect parallel to her own paw in the waking world. The amount of ecstacy is incomparable: a complete enlightenment of her soul to heighs of pleasure beyond physical limits. It brings her to the edge of climax, and when he lets go, she bounces back into control, almost - no, undoubtedly impelled from the brink of orgasm by an external force.

"Mm, not quite yet," the nightmare says. "I haven't even explained the rules yet."

(Ah... Rules?)

"Yes. Now, your goal is to avoid reaching climax. I'm sure you can feel your body under the covers having some sleepy fun. That'll make things a bit more interesting."

(So-ngh! So I can't orgasm. Is that it?)

"Not quite." The nightmare's cosmic grin is practically bone chilling. If the anubis wasn't lucid, with the knowledge that this was all orchestrated by her husband and wife, this would be one of her most chilling night terrors.

"You must resist climax for the whole night, until seven o'clock, when our dear love's alarm sounds and he must get up for work.
If you win, then I'll let my powers to you. The ability to claim command over a dream, to slip into and out of a sleeping mind at will, and be free from any constraints within that realm. Our positions could be swapped with just a single thought by you, and you'd rule over this world, together with our love."

Rule over her husband's dreams with him? Like a king and queen of their own reality, with the nightmare to play with, tease and toy with?

(Okay. And if I lose?)

"Mm-hm-hm-hm. If you lose... I'll wake up in the morning. And hubby will wake up in the morning. And you, well, won't wake up. Not for a whole twenty-four hours?"

(What?!)

"I'll leave your conciousness inside his mind for the whole day while he's at work. You'll be an entity completely at the mercy of any fantasy or daydream he thinks your way, and it'll be oh-so vivid for him, and oh-so real. Why, he'll only need to wonder about it, and he'll have you riding on his pole, and you'll both feel it as if it's real. You could be his imaginary sex-toy he could use in real life, just needing to think about it. He could imagine you asleep, and you'd fall asleep at his will. He could imagine you as a vaguely anubis-shaped cloud of sapient gas, experiencing constant orgasm, and you would become that. He could imagine that you think you're just an affectionate, mewling cat, and you'd think without a shadow of a doubt that you were."

"Hey, don't give me ideas now," her husband says.

(No, that's impossible. That's impossible!)

"Is it really? After all, technically, you'd just be a part of his mind. And his mind, his rules. No matter how impossible, twisted, deviant, or overwriting they might be. At least until you return to your own body come the following morning."

(That's completely unfair!) the anubis yells silently, feeling a little tension between her legs, and just below her stomach. God, she can't possibly be actually getting aroused by this idea, can she?

"Is it?" the nightmare asks. "Twenty-four hours, against every night in a month. You do the math. All you need to do, is last until seven o'clock. Now, husband, if you'd begin?"

And with that, the anubis tenses and tries to arch her back, without realising she has no actual control over her body, as her husband dives between her legs, arms around her suspended thighs, and begins to eat her out.

If her moans could produce any noise, her cries of pleasaure would echo out across the soft, purple-skied dreamscape under the eyes of the nightmare. She wants so desperately to move and touch herself, but she knows she can't. In that way, the restriction across her dream body is a blessing and a curse, as she can do nothing to stop her husband from licking her little pink bud, plunging fingers inside her, rubbing up against her g-spot.

But she can do nothing to stop her physical body under the covers from playing with her own breasts, fingering herself, grinding her ass against her husband's shaft and... God, even bringing a nipple up to her mouth to suck on. She can feel herself drinking her own milk in her sleep. Feel the illusory ghost of the sweet, warm liquid flow down her physical throat, and leave the sensations imprinted on her metaphysical body.

The anubis has a will of iron, though. A discpline that exceeds human comprehension, and years of experience at the mercy of her wife and husband.

Even with her tongue hanging out, eyes rolling back in her head, body feeling like it's turned to orgasmic goo in a levitating anubis-shaped mould, she might actually have been able to last the whole seven hours, from midnight to morning. If the nightmare and her husband were playing fair.

Of course, she never stopped to consider how time actually works in dreams. How hours can pass in minutes.

In the real world, it was 3:27AM when she broke, and came. In the dream, she'd lasted for nine hours. With her husband actually sitting on top of her floating, frozen body like a fixture, fucking her wildly, she finally let hours and hours of pleasure wash over her mind like a tsunami, like a wave of white hot cum and sexual fluids bursting from a dam and hitting her head on, melting and breaking down her body, her consciousness, until in the afterglow, all she wants to do is dissolve apart and fall into oblivion peacefully and wonderfully.
"Oh, oops," the nightmare's voice echoes in the darkness, giggling. "Guess you couldn't hold on after all. I bet you enjoyed it though. But don't worry, you'll be with hubby now, and I'm sure he'll make you enjoy things even more during the day. And don't fret about your body while you're absent from it. I'll take good care of you..."

When the anubis comes too, she feels herself whole again, nude in a bubble inside her husbands thoughts as he drives to work. With just an idle, amused thought from him, her breasts swell up to twice her size, and she doubles over in the transparent orb, gasping in bliss as they leak milk like a faucet, at a literally impossible rate, only swelling bigger as her body and loins get hotter. She moans, watching her paws soaking with milk, sinking into her ever-softing breasts like her entire body is turning to warm, pliable clay. And all the while, she can somehow feel her husband smile as he keeps his eyes on the road, but his attention focused on her, inside his head, making her body and mind his plaything.

Today's going to be an interesting day.