For the real Michelle, who sometimes graces my dreams.
On a Wednesday night, in a room that did not exist, I stole a kiss from Michelle. She was dreaming, of course - but then so was I.
Few people understand the power of dreams; even a meddler like myself can only grasp fragments of it. I'd imagined this comfortable parlor and then called Michelle to it as she slept. It was only a dream, she thought - but dreams can reshape the daylight world.
And I can shape dreams.
Michelle's lips were delicious; we pressed against each other for an eternity and yet not long enough. I drew back, but did not take my arms from around her.
"Mmmm", she said. "That was great, Jay." Her lovely green eyes blinked, and something about her face seem to change. "I feel funnyyyyy". My Kiss had done its work, and she slumped in my grasp.
The magic of the Kiss had left Michelle in a warm, hazy state, her eyes open, though not focussed. I caressed her cheek, then stood, lifting her small form as I did so. She was a delightful bundle to carry, dark hair spilling over my bare arm as I made my way towards the door. I could have simply willed the dreamstuff to change around us, but my power works best when the conscious mind perceives a mask of reality.
"It's time to go the workshop, Michelle", I whispered in her ear. "There we'll get you out of those clothes and into something more suitable for your new role." She smiled back at me, her normal inhibitions suppressed, not really aware of what was happening.
My workshop was a largish room, lined with shelves and tables. Brushes and paint fought for space with costumes of varying design, except on the table set aside for Michelle. I deposited my precious burden on this, leaning her gently against the wall.
"Where... where am I?", she asked in her little girl voice.
I smiled gently at her. "This is my workshop; this is where I make marionettes".
"Marionettes? But why am I here? Feel so strange...".
"It isn't a bad feeling, is it?".
She giggled softly. "No".
"Then there's nothing to worry about. I'm about to make a new marionette, the prettiest one that ever was".
"M... me?". She blushed, though I couldn't tell if it was in embarrassment over the compliment or something else.
I began to unbutton her blouse. "Yes, you silly little doll. But first we have to get you ready". Her blouse came off with only a little trouble and I turned my attention to her skirt. Fortunately it was the sort that buttoned along the side.
"You're stripping me!". She giggled again and I laughed along with her.
"That's right. These are the wrong sort of clothes for a marionette. They hide too much of that wonderful body of yours and I need to prepare you first. Then maybe I'll dress you again".
She wasn't wearing panties. On a whim, I leaned over and blew on the lips of her pussy, which caused her to make an interesting little noise. Anything beyond that had to wait, even though I was sorely tempted.
I did take it upon myself to massage Michelle's breasts after removing her bra, though. They had seemed so constrained in their lacy prison. Stockings and shoes followed the rest of her garments, and I was ready to begin.
I selected a soft, feathery brush from the table and took her left leg. "First we have to paint the marionette", I said, beginning to move the dry brush across her foot. "Every inch of her". The brush stroked higher, until I'd reached her hips. The right leg was 'painted' next. "Every delicious inch". The brush danced across her inner thigh and made a feint towards her pussy before I withdrew it. This caused her belly to flinch. "Ticklish?", I asked with a grin.
"Then I wonder what that reaction was?", I said, starting on her arm. "Maybe I should try another tool - the brush might not be the right one".
She giggled as I worked. "I know what tool!"
My laughter joined with hers. "I'm sure you do, and that's part of why I love you - for that dirty mind of yours".
"Sweet", she murmured.
I pointed the paintbrush at her. "You'll ruin my reputation saying that; do it again and I'll have to spank you".
"Promise?" What a beautiful smile she had.
I sighed in mock exasperation. Some days you just can't win an argument, some days you don't want to.
"Quip now, but you'll be yipping away if I decide you deserve it. But no free spankings for you!" Having finished her arms, I sat on the edge of the table and pulled Michelle into my lap.
"Must be camping", she said with an unfocussed smile. "I always get the spot with the big root!"
"Maybe the big root will get your spot this time". A kiss silenced her reply and I had to remind myself that the real playtime couldn't start until I finished preparing her.
If Michelle hadn't been mostly paralyzed, she probably would have been squirming as my brush continued on its blissful journey, down the graceful neck, across very kissable shoulders and up onto her breasts. She purred as I stroked her erect nipples with the brush. On reaching her navel, I moved the brush in ever widening circles, making sure to stop before I got between her legs. Patience is a virtue - or so I had to be told, not being well acquainted with them.
Leaning Michelle forward, I started on her back, carefully tracing her spine down to its base, then making a quick run towards her shoulder blades. After a series of light sweeps across her back I was free to tickle her buttocks. She was mute as I worked, having drifted off into the warmth that clouded her mind.
When I pulled her back, her eyes wandered a bit until they settled on my face. "Hellooo", she said.
"Hi there". I eased her head onto the table. "Hey, I missed a spot. Wouldn't want to neglect a nice spot like that". Since her rump was planted in my lap, I had a great view when I spread her legs. Down boy, I thought.
"I like this part", she said brightly.
"Somehow I thought you might". A light kiss on her navel triggered a giggling fit, the nature of which changed as my brush slipped between her legs. Several more strokes whispered across her pussy, each somehow ending up wetter than the last.
"Just a little more and you'll have to go back into the toy box", I said. Raising her legs allowed me to stand up for the next stage.
"Don't fret - just think about tomorrow night and how it'll feel to be played with. Now be quiet so I can concentrate".
I switched to a smaller brush and opened a handy jar of paint. A moment's work resulted in two pink circles on Michelle's face - one on each cheek. They enhanced her natural doll-like appearance.
The last bottle of paint was special, being of no color or perhaps all colors; it was impossible to say, even while looking at it. I dipped my index finger into the bottle, took a deep breath and began to seal my claim on Michelle.
Awake, I could never hold the designs in my mind, but here my fingers knew precisely how to move. Shifting patterns appeared as my hand flashed to her shoulders, wrists, and knees - lovely knees. After rolling her over with my other hand, the final sigil was marked at the base of her spine.
The room started to melt as my power flowed into a new channel. Each symbol, a mark of my desire, glowed briefly then faded from ordinary sight. As they disappeared, the dream around us became more vivid and the workshop resumed its usual appearance.
My first night of work was done. Michelle drifted back into her usual dreams and I decided to see what oblivion was like for a few hours.
Thursday passed in a mixture of preparation, rest and impatience. At the proper time I arranged myself comfortably on the bed and went to work.
Naturally the setting for this dream was a stage, marked off by red curtains trimmed with gold to the front and a painted forest scene for the backdrop. On either side the wings were hidden in darkness. The bridge, a walkway about fifteen feet overhead, was reached by a spiral staircase on the left. A giant control hung from the ceiling; the cords fell almost to the floor, awaiting only the helpless puppet.
I closed my eyes and summoned her.
Michelle appeared, eyes closed and sitting upright in the center of the floor. Thanks to my groundwork the night before, she was entirely unaware of her surroundings.
For her costume, I'd chosen a German dirndl. This consisted of a short red skirt - which was about two millimeters away from being automatically indecent - and a tight black bodice with a low cut. Short, puffy white sleeves were fitted to the latter, making it seem as if Michelle wore a blouse. More white cloth was arranged in the front to further the illusion. This section had the added benefit of being attached by buttons, so that the wearer - or someone - could easily reveal her beautifully rounded breasts. A black ribbon graced her throat; the rest of the outfit was composed of thin white mittens, a pair of smooth black stockings and black heels.
Kneeling beside her, I took a string and placed it where I'd painted a sigil the night before. It momentarily glowed with a silver light as the end attached itself, as did each of its mates in turn. My work was done; it was time to play with my new toy.
"Wake up, Michelle".
She blinked, fully aware of herself again. "That was the strangest... Hey! Why am I sitting on the floor? And, uh - where did these strings come from?"
"I thought they suited you".
.... There is more of this story ...