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Dream a Little Dream

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Ford deflected the fireball with the nonchalance of swatting at a fly. He didn’t even flinch when it hit the patch of wheat to his left, obliterating it entirely.

Of course, he thought bitterly as he dusted ash off his coat. The prospect of Bill’s banishment being permanent had been too good to be true.

“It’s over, Bill,” he said when the demon appeared in the sky.

“How cold. You really suck at greetings.” Bill said, looking around as he formed another fireball in his hand. “It’s quite fitting, though. A boring greeting in a boring dreamscape. Why don’t we redecorate a little? Let’s get rid of the useless trash first.”

The fireball soared through the air, towards the swing set. Ford stretched out his arm towards it, barely able to stop it in mid-air. He allowed himself a sigh of relief and flung it back at Bill, who avoided it easily.

“Why are you here?” Ford yelled, balling up his fists.

“Who knows?” Bill shrugged.

Gritting his teeth together, Ford summoned a whip and coiled it around Bill’s ankle with a swift movement.

“Maybe I’m here because I missed you,” Bill mocked.

Ford slammed him into the ground.

“Maybe I’m here because you missed me.”

There was a satisfying crunch when Ford stepped on Bill.

“Pathetic,” Ford whispered under his breath as he ground down his heel, watching wisps of black smoke rise from the cracks in Bill’s body. “You have no power left. You will die, along with your dimension. It’s time to give up.”

“Well, Sixer, did you ever give up when you were trapped between dimensions?”

Ford smiled in spite of himself. “Of course not.”

“Then you’ll understand.”

The smoke wrapped itself loosely around Ford’s legs. Before he could react, it hoisted him up in the air, dangling him upside down.  

Quickly, he tried to summon another weapon, but Bill was faster – the smoke took hold of his arms and forced them together behind his back, making his shoulders creak in protest. Finally, another wisp of smoke went around his torso and pulled him upright again. Bill was floating close to his face now.

“You can’t harm me here,” Ford stated simply, though he had to put some effort into keeping his voice calm. “You can’t even access my memories. There’s no point in any of this.”

“You sound awfully sure of that,” Bill said. “Maybe everything is going just according to plan.”

“Or maybe it’s just a desperate bluff.”

“Ooh, Mr. Brainiac has figured me out!” Bill’s laughter echoed through the mindscape. “Well then, can you figure out what happens next?”

“Can you?”

With one swift movement, Ford freed his arms from the smoke with unexpected ease. He pulled the gun from his holster and blasted Bill apart, with a singular shot right at Bill’s centroid.

Ford’s triumphant smile fell when the remaining smoke didn’t dissipate. Instead, it stretched into the shape of a triangle almost equal to Ford’s size. The shards of Bill’s previous form rose from the ground, each forming a smaller version of the demon. Their laugher echoed painfully through the dreamscape as they surrounded Ford.

“Wow, Sixer, you really had me there for a sec,” Bill said, his voice coming from every direction.

Ford bit his lip and fired his gun at the triangle in front of him, once, twice, but this time the bullets just went through him. Finally, Bill opened his eye. Its golden shine was almost hypnotizing. The smoke solidified, and black ooze started dripping from the entry holes, making Ford’s stomach twist with dread. Yet he couldn’t help feeling a strange sense of anticipation as he watched it slowly creeping up the tendrils still holding him in place.

“Nice trick,” Ford admitted. “But it’s still pointless.”

“You know what else is pointless?” Bill asked, letting the ooze climb higher up Ford’s leg. It glided along his inner thigh, making him shiver in a way that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. “You still being here. ‘Bill, you have no power. Bill, you can’t harm me here. Yadda yadda.’ Why don’t you make me leave for real, then? Why don’t you just wake up and end this little game? It’s your dream, after all.”

Ford swallowed. “Because…”

“Come on, Sixer!” Bill said, spreading his arms. “Here’s your big chance to get rid of me. Give me your best shot!”

Ford transformed his weapon into a compact version of his quantum destabilizer and took aim. Just a single shot would be enough. His finger twitched around the trigger. A bead of sweat ran down his temple.

He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it.

“Because…” he started again, trailing off when the tendril gently moved over his crotch. Because he was curious. Excited. He wanted to see where Bill would go with this. His pulse was racing and he felt so alive.

“I’m waiting,” the Bill to his left said, twirling his cane.

“What’s it gonna be?” a Bill to his right asked.

Ford suppressed a moan when Bill started applying a little more pressure as he stroked Ford’s erection with slow, deliberate movements. He hated how much he loved this; how much he had missed this. There was nothing like the thrill of the unexpected, and if there was one trait that didn’t apply to Bill, it was predictability. Just a little indulgence, just this once… Ford could allow himself as much, right?

With his heart beating rapidly in his chest, he let the weapon vanish.

Bill wasted no time. He reached forward and twisted his hands in Ford’s sweater, catching the undershirt underneath, and tore through the material as easily as if it was paper. He slid the fabric off Ford’s shoulders, along with his coat.

All eyes were on his torso. Ford wanted to cover himself, but before he could even move his arms an inch, two Bills on each side had grabbed them and pulled them back, forcing his chest forward. Bill traced a finger dripping with ooze across the triangle tattoo, making his skin tingle. Ford would never forget the day he got it. He had been so eager, so desperate to prove his devotion to Bill. If he had asked, Ford would have carved his symbol into his chest, no hesitation at all. What a fool he had been. Since then, he’d had many chances to get rid of it, but he’d always decided against it. He had preserved it as a reminder of Bill’s betrayal, as a reminder to not trust anyone again, ever. And here he was now, allowing him to stay in his dream… a one-time only thing, he would make sure of that.

Bill pulled his hand back again. It was quickly replaced with different pair of hands as one of the other Bills embraced him from behind and started stroking his chest, spreading the fluid across it.

Ford let out a surprised gasp when the other Bill pinched his nipples and twisted them, just a bit too hard to be pleasurable. He started moving against the tendril between his legs to get the edge off. The friction was just right, the perfect distraction, but with each movement, it felt less intense, until it vanished entirely.

Frustrated, Ford looked down. The tendril had lost its shape and stuck lifelessly to his pants. He let out a groan.

“Come on!” he said, rolling his hips. “Keep going!”

“What makes you think you’re in a position to give orders?” Bill asked as his clone kept toying roughly with Ford’s nipples, making his breath hitch whenever he crossed the line from pleasure to pain.

“Fine,” Ford said, deciding to play along. “Keep going… please.”

A smile spread across his face as he watched as the tendril came back to life. But instead of resuming its movement, it started elongating. Its tip went past the waistband of his pants, past the waistband of his boxer briefs, moving closely to his dick but not touching it, leaving a tingly trail on his lower body.

“Please, Bill!”

Quick hands tore at the material, not even bothering with the buttons. A small hiss escaped Ford when the cool air hit his erection. Bill ignored it completely in favor of letting the tendril wander to Ford’s ass.

Oh,” Ford made as it started massaging his entrance with teasing circles. He spread his legs as much as Bill allowed him and tried to relax, a difficult task in his current situation.

Ford’s eyes fluttered shut when the tentacle entered him, slick and firm. It moved with a slow, steady rhythm, getting just a little thicker each time it pushed back in. Ford jumped when it brushed against his prostate. He started rocking his hips to meet Bill’s thrusts, to encourage him move faster. His panting was interrupted by drawn out moans whenever Bill managed to hit the right spot.

“Please, touch me, Bill,” he gasped out. Two of the Bills began stroking his inner thighs, keeping him in place as he squirmed in the hold.

When Bill put two fingers against his lips, Ford opened his mouth obediently. He relished the feeling of Bill’s fingers on his tongue, their smoothness against his lips as he sucked on them.

Ford felt like he was going to faint. One Bill was still massaging his oversensitive nipples, rolling them between his fingers. Firm hands were still stroking his thighs, teasingly moving towards his erection without ever actually touching it. The thick tendril fucking him was steadily picking up speed, making him moan and gasp against Bill’s fingers in his mouth. It was more than just a dream. It was heaven.

One of the clones slid his cane across Ford’s throat and pulled him back. Bill’s fingers slipped out of his mouth, and Ford couldn’t help sticking out his tongue, desperate to reach Bill’s fingertips.

“Needy today, aren’t you, IQ?” Bill asked, and Ford could only moan in response as the tendril pressed against his prostate again. Ford tried to move his head forward, but the Bill behind him forced his head back towards him with his cane, cutting off his air supply. At the same time, the clones freed his right hand.

Ford ignored the instincts screaming at him to reach for the cane and grabbed his achingly hard dick instead. He coated his fingers in the pre-come pearling at the head and started moving his hand, trembling with relief.

The cane pressed harder against Ford’s throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed against the smooth stick with every shallow gasp. His vision started to swim, but instead of slowing down, he clumsily sped up his movements. There was no rhythm to them anymore, he just needed to get off, and he was so close, just a bit more….

His fingertips were tingling with numbness and his hand slid off, but Bill guided it back, closed his own hand firmly around his and started pumping his dick, matching the rhythm to the tendril moving in and out of Ford’s ass.

“Look at me,” Bill demanded.

Ford tried to focus his gaze on him through the black dots flittering in front of his eyes, but his head was spinning. Just one last squeeze and Ford was gone, choking out Bill’s name as he reached his climax.

He was on the verge of fainting when the clones abruptly released him. Ford almost tilted over backwards, but Bill steadied him. Greedily, Ford gulped for air, his body still shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm as Bill let Ford sink to the ground and disintegrated the tendrils. The clones floated over to Bill, covering him like a puzzle to restore his usual form. 

It took Ford a while to calm down. By the time his breathing and heart rate had normalized, he was lying on his side, eyes closed, while Bill stroked his hair gently. It was a nice gesture, comforting and familiar. And wrong. The post-coital haze had lifted and the reality of it all caught up with him.

“Wasn’t that nice?” Bill asked and caressed Ford’s cheek. “Next time will be even better.” 

Ford pushed Bill’s hand away and sat up. With a forceful flick of his wrist, he cleaned himself and restored his clothes.

“There won’t be a next time,” he said firmly, but his hoarse voice ruined the intended effect. “I will figure out how you escaped, and I will-“

Bill’s laughter interrupted him.

“Thirty years, and your pillow talk is still awful. And once again, you’re too dense to see the obvious. Or is it denial? You’re pretty good at that.”

“What are you talking about, Bill?” Ford asked sharply. Bill rose above him and crossed his arms behind his head.

“Now, let’s assume I can leave my dimension at will - project myself into any dream I want. Why would I choose to party it up with the one guy in this damn dimension whose mind I can’t even access? The one guy who might have the slightest chance of stopping me? Because you’re so special?”

Ford swallowed nervously. His throat hurt.

“There’s only one possibility,” Bill continued. “You summoned me - consciously, subconsciously, doesn’t matter. Because let’s face it, Sixer, you’re not gonna be happy chasing after gnomes and vampire fruit bats for the rest of your life. I’ve barely been gone for a week and you’re already bored. Or come to think of it, maybe…”

Ford woke with a gasp. He was glad to find that he had fallen asleep in his breakroom, because he looked like a complete mess – drenched in sweat, his cheek covered in saliva, and the less was said about the sticky disaster in his underwear, the better.

He trudged to the bathroom, undressed and stepped in the shower. There was a long day ahead of him, the first of many, if luck wasn’t on his side. He had to find a way to get rid of Bill permanently.

Absentmindedly, he traced the tattoo on his chest. It was selfish and horrible, he knew that, but part of him hoped that Bill was actually back, confined to his own mind. That was a problem he could deal with, a challenge he could rise to – an opportunity to actually destroy Bill once and for all, instead of waiting anxiously for the day he really did manage to escape against all odds. In a twisted way, it almost excited him. The safer alternative, on the other hand, frightened him.

…maybe I’m just a projection you created in your dream.