I had a wild dream a month or so ago and I thought it made for an interesting story. In this dream, I was a contestant in a crazy new game show like The Amazing Race, where there are tasks to complete all over the world, but that is where the similarities to the real life show ended. My dream world was dystopian, futuristic, and technologically advanced, and the rules of the game were: there are no hard rules. You and your team (of like 5 or 6 people) just had to stay together and complete all tasks by whatever means necessary. Some teams were out for blood from the beginning and all that, but my team was just trying to get our tasks finished and win. At some point during the game, however, we inadvertently caused the death of a person on another team. It was an accident, but that didn’t matter to them. So, that team basically dropped the game and instead started hunting us. After that, we had to not only do tasks, but also stay alive. And the leader of their team kinda singled me out, which was not a problem because (of course) in this dream world I was enough of a badass to evade death and fight back if I needed to. So at one point I run into this guy in a hotel that was located inside a huge skyscraper. We’re running through crowded halls and unfinished walls, dodging non-players, me trying to avoid him and finish a task and him literally just trying to get his hands around my throat so he can squeeze the life out of me. We end up in a room that was all plush creme carpet and chrome fixtures, and I finally turn around to square up. He throws the first punch, and in his rage, I’m able to deflect it easily. We both fight dirty, pulling knives and slicing what we can reach, biting when fingers get too close to a mouth, pulling hair, breaking things, hurting each other but not enough, until he ends up planted on top of me. Both of us are panting and bleeding, our weapons flung out of arms reach, and he’s got my arms pinned. Even though I put up a good fight, he just has the size and strength on me, but I still don’t give up, trying to buck him off and struggling under him until he just lays on top of me, yanking my head to the side. And that’s where the dream shifted. Somehow, perhaps because of the tension, the intense need for release, or maybe the delicious friction that crackled between us, in that moment something changed. I felt the wetness pool between my thighs, my breath bursting out in a frustrated gasp, and when I looked up at him with indignation, the rage in his eyes was accompanied by a different kind of…*heat.* I knew in that split second that we weren’t about to kill each other just yet. In the next second, we went for each other, him thrusting a knee between my legs, and we just began tearing off holsters and vests and belts and all of it, in the middle of the wreck that was now this hotel room. He was not gentle with me, pinning me down by the throat as he ripped through my shirt, while I gripped his hair and the nape of his neck, twisting viciously, and used my legs and free hand to pull him into me almost painfully…and then I woke up.
Terribly rude of my brain to pull me out of that one. ?
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kioqp1/my_dystopian_dream_unfinished_dreamenemies_to