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Deja vu: the sudden, overwhelming feeling of familiarity, where you realize that–wait a minute–you’ve been here before.
In most cases, that’s the end of the experience. A creeping sense that you should know where this is, even if that’s impossible. You blink, shake your head, mutter, “deja vu,” and go about your day. You bring it up in conversation later, and your friend recalls the one time they walked into a new restaurant only to swear they’d known it for years. Just the mind playing tricks, they say.
If those mind tricks hit two people at the same time for the same place, it’s a coincidence. Three, and it’s fate. Four, and it’s plain unsettling.
What about half a billion?
—
That fateful day in December, searches for “The Dreamer’s House” flooded the Internet. Every form of social media buzzed with activity, thousands of people posting their experiences, millions of others reading those posts with disbelief.
“I was commuting to work and noticed there was a door in the subway station that had the words ‘The Dreamer’s House’ graffitied into it. I’ve seen it before. I’m certain of it. But the crazy thing is, I’m also 100% certain that door wasn’t there yesterday.” – Anonymous, United States.
“I was walking along the street with a few friends and happened to glance into an alley. I don’t think I’ve ever paid attention to that place, but I noticed a door with the words ‘The Dreamer’s House’ written on it and got hit with crazy strong deja vu. What’s scary is that my friends all got the exact same feeling at the exact same time.” – Anonymous, Vietnam.
“This strange door appeared behind our house. Well, I say appeared; maybe it’s always been there and I never noticed. But I’m seeing it for the first time today, except maybe it’s not the first time because I swear I’ve looked at this exact door somewhere, and then I went online, and literally everyone has seen this door? All over the world?!” – Anonymous, Brazil.
Chelsea scrolled through dozens of posts clamoring about the same thing. “The Dreamer’s House.” Pictures, videos, written accounts, all focusing on the same door with the same three words.
Yet there wasn’t a single account of anyone going through that door.
Chelsea leaned back in her seat, drumming her fingers on the table. Twenty-two years old, fresh out of college, unemployed. Discarded clothes were scattered here and there on the floor of her one-room apartment: dress pants, t-shirts, blouses, skirts, plain underwear, spicy underwear, her one good suit that had a huge soup stain across the front of it.
Her gaze flicked out her window. From her vantage point on the eighth floor of Hewey Apartments, she could see the spread of two-story warehouse-style buildings lining the street below. People milled around those warehouses, commuting to work, putting on hard hats, driving heavy machinery.
And there was the door. “The Dreamer’s House.” Right on top of the closest warehouse, situated at the top of the fire escape. Nothing strange at all; someone must have graffitied the words onto the existing door after all the internet buzz.
Except Chelsea knew better. She’d seen that warehouse dozens of times while glancing out her window.
That building’s fire escape was on the opposite side.
Why, then, did she get the most intense feeling of deja vu every time she looked at that door? She’d never seen it before. It hadn’t existed before. She must be going crazy; this whole world must be going crazy.
She stood up, grabbing her keys and her phone. Navigating the piles of laundry, she stepped out of her apartment, locking it behind her. Seven minutes later, she was standing in front of the door.
“The Dreamer’s House.”
The door itself was made of plain wood, stained with some kind of oil to give it a dark brown, shimmering gleam. The words on it looked like they had been brushed on with golden paint, swooping strokes accentuating the D and H.
A bronze doorknob invited her. She glanced around. The sound of traffic filled her ears, carried by a gentle breeze. No one else was around her.
Taking a deep breath, she gripped the doorknob, turning it and pulling the door open.
—
Half of her expected the door to just lead into a warehouse full of workers. Maybe some of them would yell at her for trespassing on private property. She’d duck her head apologetically and leave as fast as she could, and that would be the end of that.
Instead, what greeted her eyes was a hotel lobby. Marbled floor stretched under her feet, tiled in large, square black and white sections, with the occasional circular tile art to break up the monotony. The ceiling vaulted high over her head, glittering crystal chandeliers hanging from ornate wooden stalactites. The smell of roses filled the air, light and refreshing. Small, decorative fountains burbled to her right and left, water pouring from vases held by statues of women clad in flowing silk.
Across from her, on the far end of the lobby, was a receptionist’s bursa escort desk. Sitting at the desk, a polite smile on his face, was a man in a suit. His black hair was slicked back, his eyes glittering a somewhat unsettling crimson. He sat straight as a ruler, his hands clasped in front of him on the desk. He was still as a statue, his eyes gazing straight ahead, though Chelsea got the feeling he wasn’t looking at her so much as through her.
Behind the man was an elevator, the doors made of shining steel that looked almost silver. Next to that was an open doorframe with no door. Through it, Chelsea could see a flight of stairs spiraling up into what should have been empty air.
“What the fuck…?”
This place defied reality. That much was obvious from just a glance. Chelsea turned her head around, seeing her normal world, her normal street, her normal apartment building behind her. She turned back to look through the door, the hotel lobby whose ceiling was too high for the building it was supposedly inside, the marble floor that had no place in this warehouse, the stairs that should have led up to nowhere, and the weird man sitting in the empty hall.
There was no way she could turn back now.
Cautiously, she stepped through the door, making sure to keep it open. In fact, she grabbed a nearby brick that happened to be on the floor, securing the door completely. She then walked up to the desk, wary of the strange situation she was in. “Hello?” she asked once she was close to the desk, making sure to stay a good two meters away from it.
“Greetings. Chelsea Fairmont? Your room number is 303.” Like a robot, the man moved his arms stiffly, reaching under his desk and pulling out a key. His torso didn’t move an inch while he did so.
“Huh?” Chelsea glanced at the key, then back at him. “How do you know my name? Where is this? What do you mean, my room?”
The man’s smile widened another centimeter. “I know your name because I heard it in your dreams. This is the Dreamer’s House, where fantasies come true. And your room is your room; the place wherein your fantasies live.”
Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “… Okay, sure, this whole thing’s strange enough that your explanation almost makes sense. I don’t know what kind of black magic is going on here, but honestly? I’m good with it.”
She inched forward, quickly snatching the key from him before darting away like a wild mouse. He didn’t make any sudden moves, calmly returning to his original pose.
Her gaze flicked to the door that led outside. It was still propped open.
“What’s going to happen to me when I go to Room 303?” She turned the key over in her hands, seeing the number etched into its side.
“You shall be pampered by your fantasy.”
“You say fantasy, but what does that mean?”
“Our research shows that you desire to experience being an adventurer in a medieval fantasy, much like a video game. You wish to battle huge, brutish monsters: orcs, ogres, trolls, minotaurs, and such. You have a special fondness for that last one; you love the look of giant, half-bull, half-men, shaggy and towering and rippling with muscles. And you wish to be defeated by them in combat, captured and humiliated, stripped of your arms and armor before being thoroughly pounded and dominated by excessively large, monstrous cocks–“
“STOP!!!” Chelsea shrieked, a fiery blush flaring in her cheeks and rising to the very tips of her ears. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates, her pupils shrinking to tiny dots, her lips trembling with embarrassment. “That–! That–!! SHUT UP!!!”
The man closed his mouth, his smile the same as always, though to the blushing, ashamed Chelsea he looked almost mocking.
She stared at the key in her hands, her mind racing. Her gaze went once more to the open door. Her normal life stared back at her. A world where her life consisted of her messy apartment, her long, fruitless job hunt, her lack of a boyfriend.
“… Is it… safe?” she asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
“You shall come to no harm of any kind. You may leave at any moment by simply wishing in your heart. Additionally, time will cease to pass outside once you enter your room; enjoy yourself for as long as you wish.”
Chelsea fidgeted with the key. “That sounds too good to be true.”
The man smiled. “Dreams tend to be far sweeter than reality.”
“So this is a dream?”
“Perhaps. Though you are not asleep.”
“How does that work?”
For once, the man didn’t answer. Perhaps he couldn’t; Chelsea didn’t know, and she had no way to find out.
Her fingers closed around the key. Taking a deep breath, she resolved herself. Five minutes. She’d try it out for five minutes, and if it was some kind of devil’s trick, she’d be out of there before the man could blink.
“Where’s Room 303? Third floor?” she guessed.
“Yes. Take the elevator and turn right.”
Chelsea nodded, walking to the elevator and pressing bursa escort bayan the button to call it. The doors slid open, a clean, cool interior greeting her eyes. The ride up to the third floor was short; the walk to Room 303 was shorter. Before she knew it, she was pushing the key into its lock, opening the door slowly.
A blast of wind hit her the moment the door swung open, carrying with it the scent of pine, grass, wildflowers, and spring. A vast landscape stretched outside the door, which opened to the top of a hill overlooking a grassy plain surrounded by forest on one side and mountains on the other. The sound of rushing water mixed with the chirping of insects and birds, a soothing melody performed by nature itself.
She took one last, deep breath. With tentative footsteps, she stepped through the door.
Instantly, her body felt… heavier. For a moment, she glanced down, confused; then, a sharp inhale followed by a surprised squeal.
She had grown. Her chest had ballooned three sizes, filling out into plump, soft, almost gravity-defying mounds, each larger than her head. Her thighs and rear had similarly thickened, putting on pounds of jiggling, elastic fat. By contrast, her waist had slimmed, giving her an exaggerated, unrealistic hourglass figure.
Her ideal body.
Additionally, her clothes had vanished, replaced by the least functional armor she could imagine. Chainmail links connected a steel bra to a thong that was only armored directly over her pubis. The bra barely covered half her chest, each side shaped like a curved triangle, the very tips of which covered her puffy nipples. Her back was completely exposed, as were her round, firm buttcheeks, the tiny string of her thong digging between them. The armor felt incredibly light and tight, squeezing her body as if to accentuate her curves. Armored gauntlets covered her arms to her mid-bicep and armored boots reached her mid-thigh, clanking slightly as she moved. On one hip hung a sword in its scabbard, the hilt carved to resemble an ornate dragon. A helmet covered her head, steel wings extending from the sides of it, completing the look.
She stared at herself in wonder, excitement filling her body. She gently grasped one of her own mounds, feeling the doughy, fleshy texture, the sensations transmitted to her brain through that groping touch making her bite her lip.
Perhaps five minutes might be a little short… she thought, turning in a circle to observe her surroundings.
That was when she saw that the door she had come through had disappeared.
Her pupils shrank to dots, her breath catching in her throat. No, no, no, the receptionist had said she could leave at any point; how was she supposed to leave without a door?!
And, just like that, she was back in the hotel corridor. She blinked, staring in confusion at the door to Room 303. It was closed, the key held in her hand. Her body and clothes were back to normal, too.
“… It’s safe.” The realization settled in her heart. The instant she wanted out, she was out.
She smirked, letting out a chuckle. The key slid back into the lock.
—
“You have to help us, adventurer! The Minotaurs, they’ve taken over the Temple of Galiad! It’s a miracle we managed to evacuate in time… But please, you must take back our sacred home!”
Chelsea nodded with a smile. “I’ll do what I can.”
It had taken her about ten minutes to find a village, and not even a minute after that, she was handed her first quest. The townspeople had all looked at her with dirty eyes when she walked in; the women with disgust, the men with slack-jawed, almost drooling desire. She could feel their gazes on her even now, as she spoke to the head priest of Galiad, their eyes licking her curves up and down.
She shivered, a blush creeping into her cheeks, her heart pumping in her chest. Walking around in public with such a slutty outfit, especially when she had a body like this…! There was no way in hell she could do such a thing in real life. She hoped nobody would notice the fluids staining her thong, threatening to dribble down her thighs.
“Thank you, thank you, kind stranger!” The head priest gripped her hands, tears forming in his eyes. “May Galiad smile upon you!”
He released her, pointing to a plume of smoke rising in the distance. “The Temple is that way. Please, be safe!”
“I’ll try,” Chelsea said, resting one hand on her sword hilt.
No, I won’t, she thought with a silent giggle. She knew what was waiting for her at that temple. With a quick, confident stride, she set out from the village, not giving a single glance back as she walked toward her fantasy.
The dirt crunched softly beneath her boots. She was on a muddy road, winding through the plains on its way to the forest. Rabbits darted between bushes, weasels peeked from burrows, sheep grazed lazily, and even the occasional deer caught her eye, meandering the grassy fields. Mixed among them were animals escort bayan she hadn’t seen before: strange creatures made of oozing slime, eight-legged mammals that resembled horses, huge blobs that turned out to be giant spiders and frogs.
She paused as she passed a bridge over a small stream, gazing into the water. Her face was reflected in it: long black hair, large green eyes, pale skin, full and luscious red lips. It was undeniably her face, though the fantasy had changed the angle of her cheekbones a little bit, made her eyes glitter more, removed every single blemish on her skin, and given her a healthy glow that made it hard to imagine she had heavy eye bags and slightly sunken cheeks just an hour ago.
Her gaze traveled down to her transformed body, a smile tugging at her lips. She’d always wanted the type of body that would elicit a “daaamn” every time she looked in the mirror. Her old body wasn’t bad at all, but it wasn’t exactly “damn”-worthy. In her eyes, at least.
Past the stream, the forest began to thicken around her, the air growing suffused with a cacophony of smells. The path cut through the forest, meandering between trees, growing narrower and narrower. Things rustled in the undergrowth, darted between branches, and let out growls and barks that made her flinch; however, nothing jumped out at her.
Abruptly, the path widened, the trees opening into a small clearing. There, in the center, was a building made of white stone. Four pillars held up a wide, triangular roof, the space between the pillars filled by walls covered in friezes. Wide double doors marked the entrance into the temple, though they had been torn off their hinges, discarded on the floor. What had once been a garden around the temple had also been trashed, the flowers trampled underfoot.
Chelsea wasn’t focusing on any of that, though. No, her gaze was fixed on the four hulking creatures standing in front of the temple.
Each one was easily twice as tall as her, ten feet of thick, powerful muscles, atop which sat a massive bovine head. Horns as thick as her arm sprouted from the sides of their skulls, curving up into sharp points. Their snouts were short and moist, their mouths hanging open as they sniffed the air, long, powerful tongues visible within. Their shoulders were as broad as billboards, their hairy chests bulging with strength, their arms thick as tree trunks. Each of their hands was easily big enough to crush her skull. Brick-like abs connected their torsos to huge, hoofed legs, and not a single one of them was bothering to cover their delicates. Chelsea’s eyes were filled with the sight of 22-inch monsters, dangling flaccidly, colored a deep, dark brown at the base but transitioning to a slimy pink halfway up the shaft. Testicles the size of grapefruits hung below their tools, swaying and twitching with every move they made.
Even from thirty meters away, Chelsea could smell them. The smell of wet fur, mud-caked hooves, rotten saliva, and a tangy, bitter aroma that she was sure was coming from their exposed weapons. Their grunts and snuffles reached her ears, wet and primal.
She drew her blade, the steel making no noise as it slid smoothly from the scabbard. It fit snugly in her hand, surprisingly light for its size. With a confident grin, she stepped forward, approaching the minotaurs head-on.
“Hey, ugly!” she yelled. All four beasts turned to look at her, their eyes narrowing as aggressive grunts sputtered from their throats. “Yeah, that’s right! I’m here to kick all your asses!”
She raised her blade, pointing it at the monsters. “Come at me!”
To her surprise, they didn’t instantly charge her, instead beginning to spread out, staying well out of her range as they surrounded her. Her eyes flicked between them, a bead of sweat running down her face. Now that she was seeing them up close, she couldn’t stop the little ball of fear inside her that was quickly growing larger. She felt like a tiny mouse, slowly being caged in by hungry lions.
“Tch!” With a click of her tongue, she took action, dashing forward and swinging her sword wildly. To an outsider, she would have looked almost comical; her steps were off-balance, her bladework unrefined, her breasts and buttocks swaying and bouncing all over the place, her battle cry more of a squeal.
The minotaur she was charging at didn’t even flinch. With a single swipe of his hand, he knocked the sword straight out of Chelsea’s grip. Then, before she had a chance to react, his fist balled up and swung in a brutal uppercut directly to her exposed stomach.
“GGUUUUUUUUHHHHHH!!!!” Chelsea was sent flying six meters into the sky, spinning ass over head before landing heavily on her back. She gasped and heaved, the wind knocked right out of her, stars dancing in her vision.
It didn’t hurt. The minotaur had punched her with enough force to break all of her ribs, but she was completely fine, just winded. As she struggled for air, clutching her stomach, the four minotaurs gathered around her, mocking, grunting laughs spilling from their lips. Chelsea’s pupils thinned to dots as she was blessed with a front-row seat to four monster cocks, the smell hitting her like a tidal wave. Raunchy, feral musk invaded her nose, making her head spin with the amount of pheromones that were packed into each whiff.