Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Legacy of the Witch House (TheCorsair and Xanaphia)

Pete helped Marta from the tub, then wrapped himself in an oversized towel and grabbed his clothes. There was certainly no way he was putting them in until he dried off a little, and he wasn’t going to do that in the chill of the porch. So he trudged through the cabin, taking joining Marta in the bedroom to towel off and dress.

The rich scent of coffee filled the air by the time they emerged, and the other Pete was pouring a fourth mug as they settled down at the table. Pete added sugar and sipped at it carefully. “This is nice,” he murmured, awkwardly wondering if he should make eye contact.

What did you say, at a time like this? The dreams always cut out after the sex was over, and they had departed quickly the one time they’d hooked up with themselves. And Sebelah... well, she’d been an unusual case. But even then they’d left quickly. They hadn’t settled down to chat, afterwards.

“This feels... awkward,” the other Pete murmured.

“Hm?” Pete mumbled, glancing up. His duplicate had the same awkward, looking-but-not-really-looking expression, mostly studying his own mug.

“You know,” he expanded, gesturing vaguely towards the back door. “This.”

“Ah. Yeah.” He nodded and sipped his coffee.

Silence settled over the table. “Did, uhm,” The other Pete began. “Did... something like this happen, with the other universe?”

You have no idea, Pete thought. “No. Well, sort of.” He cringed, realizing the alcohol was messing with his ability to control what he was saying. “That is, uh, the other versions of us. They...” fucked and tried to murder us, “they thought it would be fun to, uh, separate us. And then pretend to be us.”

The other Marta and the other Pete looked appalled, but he didn’t miss the subtle flare of interest either. “That’s...” the other Marta began.

“Yeah,” Pete agreed. “We weren’t particularly happy, when we found out.”

Silence again. “Look,” the other Pete finally said. “It’s dark, and between the four of us we’ve killed two bottles of wine and a bottle of champagne. Why don’t you two take the hide-a-bed in the couch?”
 
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Marta agreed, and drank deep of her coffee. It warmed the lingering chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

“We’re probably going to head back to Arkham tomorrow around noon. Or whenever the hangover wears off.” Alt Marta laughed, and Marta joined in with a chuckle. She lingered for a moment, biting her bottom lip before finally speaking up again.

“You know, while you guys are here, in our reality, you could stay at Pete’s old apartment. His lease isn’t up for another couple months, so it’s just sitting empty for the time being.”

Marta spared Peter a glance. “That’s awfully generous. We’ll, umm, let you know in the morning.”

Alt Marta nodded, and offered a small wave. “Alright. Night, you two.”

Marta blew out a long breath that ended with a light laugh. “Well, I guess they like us.” She stood, and helped Peter move the coffee table out of the way so they could pull out the mattress in the couch. Once the bed was pulled all the way out, she watched the bedroom door, before pitching her voice to Peter, “Maybe, once we get settled in Arkham, we tell them everything? There is no telling how long it will take the Circle to find us here, and it would be best if we all were ready for that.”
 
Pete spread out the extra blankets, using the movement to try to buy himself enough time to think about his response. He’d been drunk enough to fuck Marta in front of another couple, after all. So he didn’t think he should trust any off the cuff responses. “That’s... that’ll be an awkward conversation,” he finally managed. “But, yeah. We should probably tell them. We’re running the risk of dragging them into the mess, after all.”

Crawling under the covers, he spooned up against her. “I wonder how different my place looks here,” he whispered, drawing her tight against him. “And we should probably take them up on the offer,” he added with a yawn. “For a while, at least.”

Yawning again, he lazily cupped her breast. “I wish I had enough energy for another go.”

-*-

“Might be awkward, putting them up at my place,” Pete yawned, sliding under the covers. There was a pleasant chill beneath them, one that rapidly warmed with his body heat. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t do it, but we’d have to be careful. Can you imagine how Lena would react?” He chuckled. “Or, worse yet, Jeff.”

That worthy would probably find it to be proof positive of shape-shifting fish men, and then plaster it all over YouTube. It was the sort of thing his antivax quantum woo future possible brother-in-law would do. “Do we just encourage them to stay inside? Or tell them to fake it if they meet someone we know?”

And then pretend to be us. That statement haunted him now, as his drunk brain tried to grapple with what it would be like to find out Marta wasn’t his Marta. Which led to guilty thoughts about fucking his fiancée and the otherworldly Marta at the same time. Would the other Pete want to watch? Or would he want to join in?

He shifted awkwardly, erect at the thought. “God,” he breathed. “I want you again.”
 
“Why are you so tired?” Marta teased, grinding against Peter’s crotch. “I rode you, after all. Shouldn’t I get to be tired?”

He caught her nipple between two fingers, and arousal fluttered in her depths. Her legs brushed against his, and then over and between them, both writhing in pleasure and craving the feel of his bare skin against hers.

Eventually she rolled over onto her back, where she could kiss Peter and where he could fondle her other breast. “If you don’t have the energy to fuck again, maybe you’ll have the energy for this?” “This” was straddling Peter’s face, and planting teasing kissed down his abs and along his hip bones.



Visions from the hot tub replayed in Marta’s mind, and transformed into fantasies of things that hadn’t happened, but perhaps could. Like, sharing Peter’s cock with the other version of her. Maybe while the other him fucked her. Or maybe just teasing both men with a show of her and her alt fucking each other, until both men were too mad with pleasure to resist any longer. Slick heat built between her thighs, before Peter had even admitted his desire.

“God,” he breathed. “I want you again.”

The blankets slid down her figure as she shifted. She rose over him, moonlight casting a faint glow across her bare skin. “Yeah, how much?” Her hand snaked over his hard abs, and gripped his swollen cock in a firm grip. “That much, huh?” She hummed in approved, and stroked him oh so slowly.

“I want you inside me again, fucking me, filling me” Her breasts flatted into his chest when she leaned in for a kiss, drawing his tongue into her mouth. Their lips parted, but Marta remained close, staring deep into Peter’s eyes. “I want you to fill me with cum, again. I want you to get me pregnant.”
 
There was tired, and there was tired, and Pete quickly realized he was not in that second category. Not as bare skin slid over bare skin, and tongues slipped and fueled, and as Marta’s body responded to his touch. “If you don’t have the energy to fuck again,” she purred, pushing him onto his back, “maybe you’ll have the energy for this?”

“I think I might be able to rise to the occasion,” he grinned, creasing her thighs as she straddled his face. Her lips slowly traveled along his stomach and over his hips, ticklish and erotic at the same time. “But I’m a little tired, so you may need to tell me what you had in mind...”

As he spoke he ran his fingers along her spine and lower, cupping and squeezing the curve of her ass. A finger teased the puckered bud of her sphincter, pressing against it with an insistent gentleness. Two more spread her shaved lips, revealing her glistening inner folds. “I mean,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above hers, “I’m not wildly creative when I’m tired.” The tip of his tongue touched her clit, giving him the barest taste of her desire. “So you’ll need to be explicit.”

-*-

Heat surged through Pete’s nerves and into his cock, which he hadn’t realized could get harder. “Fuck, that sounds good,” he breathed, sliding his hands between them to trail up her stomach. He craned his neck, catching her lower lip with his teeth, tasting her sigh as he cupped her breasts. “I should stop taking my Adjudin, then.”

His thumbs circled her nipples. He shifted his hips, thrusting his cock into her fist. “It’d make sex even hotter, wouldn’t it?” he murmured against her skin, words slightly muffled as he nipped at her throat. “Knowing that every time I cum, you could get pregnant?” His hips moved again, fucking her fist as she pressed into him, letting her feel him thick and hard in her grip.

“Fuck me,” he breathed, the words soft and hungry. He kissed her earlobe. “Fuck the cum out of me, Marta.”
 
Marta hissed and sighed, Peter’s light touches taunting her, driving her wild. “I want you fingers inside me. Fucking me, hard and deep, while you lick my clit.” Her own tongue slid over his length, from base to tip, and then she swallowed his head. Saliva drooled from her lips, and down his shaft, guiding her along his cock.

She came off him with a sharp moan, writhing against his teasing fingers. “Fuck yeah, Pete, just like that. Fuck me with your tongue, too. Finger my ass! Fuck!” She threw herself back into sucking him, harder and deeper now, to cover her own moans.

Her hips encouraged him, moving in time with his motions, moving in time with her own, as she swallowed more and more of his thick cock. Nails dug into Peter’s thigh as she drove herself to the back of his dick, taking him in her throat as her own pleasure peaked.



Marta shuddered. She hadn’t suspected the fantasy of getting pregnant would turn her on so much, but Peter’s eager enthusiasm excited her. Or, was it hot because it wasn’t just a fantasy? He would get her pregnant, hopefully soon. She’d make sure of that.

She pushed Peter down, hands hard on his shoulders are she climbed on top of him. Holding him down as she sunk down his swollen dick. “God yes. Pump me full of cum. Cum in me, until I get pregnant.”

She drew herself upright, moonlight casting pale shadows over her bare figure. “I’m going to milk every drop of cum out of your dick. All of it, inside me.” Her hips rolled in a smooth motion, rubbing her clit against his shaft. “I hunger for your seed. I need it. Please… please…” Throwing her head back, her body went rigid in ecstasy.
 
Pete slid his middle finger deep into her slit, massaging her inner walls with the digit as he rocked his hips gently against her mouth. There was a wet sucking sound as he slid it free, and he pressed it once more against the bud of her sphincter. “Like this?” he said, gasping as she swallowed his cock. “Finger fuck this tight ass?”

She opened as he pushed his fingertip into her, the sheen of her arousal on his finger allowing his to slide freely into her. As he buried his finger to the second in coke his thumb slipped over her lips and pushed in. “You want me finger fucking both holes? You want to be full of me?”

Her gasp around his cock drew a mian from him, and it took all his concentration to trail his tongue over where his thumb opened her wet cunt. She tasted of lust and hunger and he pushed his tongue into her, savoring her flavor and the sound of her desire.

-*-

“You need this cum?” Pete gasped, meeting the roll of Marta’s hips with the thrusts of his cock. “You need this cum hot in you, don’t you?” His hands slid over her back, gripped her hips. “You want me emptying my balls deep into you?”

She cried out in orgasm, head thrown back and body arched. In response he twisted, rolling her into her side and then her back, still buried in her pulsing channel. “That’s it,” he told her, gripping her wrists and pinning them above her head. “Cum on that dick. Show me how much you want my cum.”

He rose up, holding her down as his hips slammed into hers. “Beg me,” he gasped, words coming in time with his thrusts. “Tell me... how much... you.., You want.,. my cum... in... you...”
 
The blood rushed to Marta’s head, magnifying the intensity of her climax as Peter rolled them over. Each of his strokes, deep and demanding, encouraged her rapture, transforming it into maddening pleasure. “Please… oh God, please!”

Her legs tightened around his waist, pulled him closer, deeper, trying to hold him still until her climax abated. But he refused to be tamed. Relentless thrusts fought her clenching thighs, and his grip strengthened on her wrists. “So good… so much… so, so, so…”

Finally, she summoned the strength to hold him still inside, thick cock hilted to the base. “I need… every last drop. Here… right here…” He twitched against her hungry walls, and her control wavered. Her back arched and her mouth hung open, shuddered cries escaping in time with the trembling of her orgasm.



The bedroom door muffled the cries and moans and filthy demands of the other couple, but could not drown them out. Marta could hear her own voice begging for Peter’s cum, could hear the desperate need and eager hunger that flavored her words. Peter’s responses, demanding and filled with that same need.

It was almost as hot as watching the other couple in the hot tub, and it inspired her to swallow his full length. Even though she wanted to moan and beg her own Peter to keep fucking her slit with his tongue. His moans were still audible, sweet wordless praises that deepened as she fit his head in her throat.

Climax hit as she deep throated him, dripping her bliss down his chin as smooth muscles gripped his tongue. Paralyzed in pleasure, his hips carried the rhythm of her passion.
 
Marta’s desperate sounds of need and the way she fought him, demanding more of him, built his pleasure higher and higher. She finally managed to clench around him, holding him tight within her. In response he thrust harder, moving her whole body, slamming the headboard into the wall with each motion.

Her second orgasm - or was it still her first, dragged out by his hunger for her? - wracked her body and sent him over the edge. His body arched as he drove into her one last time, breath escaping in a primal roar of release as he emptied himself into his lover.

Sweat beaded his skin as he collapsed onto her, gasping for breath. “God, I love you,” he breathed, tasting her lips. His cock pulsed gently within her, spilling the last of his seed into her womb. “I love you... so much..,”

-*-

The sound of their doppelgängers fucking in the bedroom drove Pete harder, as if trying to outdo them. His fingers worked her ass and slit in an alternate rhythm, matching her mouth and throat on his cock. His jaw aches from holding his mouth open, nearly covering her mound as he worked his tongue deeper into her walls.

Her orgasm was delicious, rhythmically clenching his thumb and tongue as her moans massaged his shaft. His own orgasm followed as he heard a desperate, hungry cry of release from the bedroom. He clung to Marta desperately, groaning into her count as he felt his cum flood her mouth and drip from her lips and down his shaft.

“God,” he gasped wearily, head finally falling back into the mattress. There was no resistance as his fingers slid free from her. “God, I love you.”
 
Snuggled into Peter’s tender embrace, sleep came easily to Marta, and dreams followed close behind. An endless hallway stretched before her. Mirrors flanked her –them, as a dream image of Peter joined her. Most were unremarkable, presenting identical or practically identical versions of herself and Peter. Much like the alternate versions who’d visited in the waking world, and who even now slept in the other room. Many wore odd and distinctive onyx jewelry, just like their alts did.

As she walked through the hall way, she began to pick out more and more differences in this mirror images. This one had lavender hair, or that one was heavily muscled with tattoos and piercings and an older version of them. Finally, she came upon another instance of them, once against more or less the same as themselves. Well, except from the intricate onyx jewelry they were, and the prominent baby bump her alt carried. She smiled, smug and serene, and stroked her stomach.

She looked on with a mixture of joy and jealousy. Whether this was a portent of her future, or a glimpse into the life of yet another alt, or, most likely, given that this was a dream, a fabrication of her own mind, reflecting her own deeply held desire, Marta decided it was good tidings.

But the more she watched the mirror image, the more off it seemed to her. Nothing stood out, nothing she could pick out. It wasn’t until she looked past her alt, past the couple, and saw infinite alien eyes staring back at her.



She must have been exhausted, because Marta didn’t remember falling asleep. But once she was in the dream hallway, she squeezed Peter’s hand twice, and he responded with two squeezes of his own. Yet another security measure, to communicate that they were not imposters from alternate realities. A method Peter had come up with, since the other alts had infiltrated both the waking and dream world.

Because that was their life now.

The hallway of mirrors wasn’t a shock, but few things were now. There was little doubt in her mind that each one represented another reality. Were those alts here too? In the dream? Could they track them through reality in the dream space? Could they identify them, while the masqueraded as the alts they killed?

Marta maintained vigilance watching her mirror images, but even her caution wavered as she came to a mirror depicting the dead alts, surrounded by a shadowy-inky being with a single, phallic eye. It turned it gaze upon her, and moaned out in nigh incomprehensible horror.

“MMMAAARRRTTTAAA.”
 
“What the shit?” Pete gasped, staring at the inky thing in the mirror.

It lunged forward, splashing against the transparent surface like a wave of ink and flowing down. “Maaarrrtaaa...” it moaned like a deflating bagpipe, the voice emanating from toothy mouths opening in the liquid body.

Heart hammering, Pete watched I’m grotesque fascination as the liquid thing extruded eye-tipped tentacles. “That’s...”. Nausea clenched his gut. “Your doppelgänger, the one I... killed. She, she had one of those.” He swallowed bile. “Inside her.”

“Ahkakgft Martatep,” the Thing wheezed, sounding oddly sad. “G’y’mtli. Akhog’yeh. Tharanak athg gnalihtsathoggua’abi? Chzte aikhdeng-ngr!”

Shuddering, he gripped Marta’s hand and backed up a step. “I can wake up any time now.”

-*-

“This is the weirdest dream I’ve had in a while,” Pete said, staring at the odd dream reflections in front of him. They smiled back, the mirror-Pete’s arm affectionately around the mirror-Marta’s shoulders. “Maybe... maybe meeting our alternate-universe selves is making me think of what else we could have been?”

He chuckled, and grinned at his dream-Marta. “I’m glad I dreamed of you, though. It makes this feel less weird. And the real you’ll get a kick out of this, when I tell you about it.”

It was an odd feeling, having a conversation with a dream. He hadn’t done that since he was... ten? Eleven? The last time he’d dreamed of Ulthar, when the Knight of Cerulean Shadows had rescued him from the uncontrollable nightmare of the things that rose from the Vaults of Zin...

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I haven’t thought about that in years.” Not since the Knight, who’d spoken with the voice of his mother in the dream, had extracted from him the promise not to return to the Stairs.

He looked at the reflections again, trying to focus on the couple and not the shifting constellations (eyes, a voice said) behind them. “Come on,” he said, taking dream-Marta’s hand. “Let’s see what else we can find.”
 
The words were nonsense to Marta ears. Alien syllables unpronounceable by human tongue, much less understood. But, terribly, she did understand. Bits and pieces, at least. Meaning tugged at her mind, like loose clothing catching on a stuck nail.



Ờ̷̙̏̆̀̒n̶̹̓̈́ȩ̸̣̯̻̝̬̪̩͎̞͛̒̆̃͑͌̚͜ ̴̧̻̳͔͙̰͓̲͎̗̯̩̺̅͐̔̌̍̊͘͜b̶̨̛̛̭͇̦̟̣̻̱͍̂͗́̿͒͑͗̉́̓̍͂ẽ̷̩͙̬̼͙̳̈́͋̂́̈̋̔̕ͅĩ̸͕̺̣͉̣̪̳̔̽̉͋͗́̔͆̚͠ͅň̵̗̺͖̫̖̭͓̍͛̈̿̈́̃͠g̴͕̪͆͋,̴͙̈́̇̿ ̴̺̘͖̗̥̲͉͕͍̩̱̬͎̍̆̎̾̅́̈́w̸̹̐̍̅͐̾̚̕i̸̪̒̐̂́̀͑̎͗͊̀̓̇̈́͠t̶̢̨̧̬̣͓̲͓͎͈͛̉̂̈̓h̸̛̟͓̘̋̍́̅̅̔͆̐̋̾͘̕i̴̯͈̮̒̏ṇ̸̨̛̛̛̭͎͉̬͕͎̰̪̠̗͆͐͗̀̂͆́̚͜͝ͅͅ ̶̡̩̘͈̠͕̟͕̳͚̞̰̌̇̈́́̉̽͒̉͜ÿ̶̦̥̻̮̩̟̟̫̮͇̭̭͖̖̓ǫ̴̡̙͚̳̖̠͈̹͊̄̇̆̀͛ͅų̴̢̤̲͔̬̪̖̲͙̤͉͙̉̇͝͝.̸̹̭̦̲̦̭̔͗͘


She shook her head. “No.”



Y̷̰̎̓̅̍͊̎́͌̈͂̚o̴̧̟̘̫̹̙̍̅͐̈́̈́u̸̧͍͉̩̹̩̞͔̺͌̑̀̐͜͝ ̶̧̗̬͕͔̤͉͉́̈́̿̅͜p̶̢̡̺͚͇̝̗̰͚̼̥͔̃͂̅͊̈́͜͝r̶̥͈̍̅̊̊̆͘͝ö̶͚̞̥͈̠̬̤̙̗̱͓͖͖̰́͜m̸͕̰͚͎͓̼̺͖̻̻̹̦̄́̿͌͗̓͘͠ḯ̸̧̱̜͓̗̥͗̊̽͋͆̔͗̍̋̌̈́̎͘͝s̸̡̜̬̻͓̤͔̤̖̠̄̏̍ę̷̨̛̠̟͂̆̐̔̀͌͘̚d̴̡͖̜͇͍͚͎̯̗̜͇̀. ̷͓̝͙͖͕̖̹̥̎̀̈̾̋͜ ̸̨̻̩̭͎̩̞͔̘̇͐


“No,” she whimpered. “It wasn’t me.”



Ẉ̶̡̢̨͉̙̖̤̳͖̺̞̬̫͌͌̀͝e̶̛̺͍͕̗̐̈́͂͒̈́ ̵̧̢̫͙̻̯̙̭̖̫̱̮͔̠̽̀̑́͑̈́͜͠͝͝m̷̡̞͈͍̠̪͕͉̹̦̖̘̃̅͋̅̈́̆̅̅̍̏̾̄̇͝ͅu̸̟̹͇͎̯̭͖̦̖͕͑̈́̓̉ͅs̵̛̪̋̓̑̽̇̓͊̓̆͑͋t̴̯̝̲͈̠͎̞͙̮̎̌̆͒ ̵̧̧̩̰͈̺̞͈̳̬̖̗̥̅̽̈́̃̉͛̿̏͗́̀͠͝͠ǹ̷̜̀̕ơ̷̛̛̩̲̫̇̈́́̓̀̆̿͘̕͜t̴̙̥̖̣͉̤̯̟͎͈͚̺̥̊͑̿̿̾̒͒̈́̊͑̆̌͠ ̸̢̠̣̻̬̰̗̝̋́̀͊̽́͗̒̊̄̈́͐͠͠ͅb̴̲̼̫͉̼̙̗̼̾̍̂̓̈́͊̀̀̔͝͠ę̵̛̗̝̻̹̈̂͑̈́͂͐͐͐ ̸̡̼̖̥̞̺̩̬͔̰̖̹͇̽̉͋̍̓̃̉̌ṣ̴̨̢̛̟͙͎͕̭̞̘̺͋̌̈̽̉̓͑͆̀̏́̋̚ę̶̜͚͕̻̪̝̈́͂̇̂̐͐͘͘p̴̳͉̝̟͉̳͖̠͉͋̽͌̈̑̒͑̅͐̈͂̈́̉̕͠ͅa̸̡̧̝̖͉͖̓̾r̵̩͂͆͋̒͐̍̐̐̓̉́͋̎̈́̕a̴̧̪͇̫̺͛̎́͊̈́̈́͊̇́̅̑̌t̴̞̜̮̯̉̄͆̓͜ḙ̸̛͔̹͇͕̰̭̺͙̿̊d̴̟̭͚̠̀͒͗͑̈́̎́̈́̋̒͘̚!̴̼͉̀͑̎̆͌̽͘


The being rose up to twice her height, thinning its form to an eighth of its diameter. Then, suddenly, it turned its eye to the east. Then, without a word, it slithered off.



DreamPeter was strange, but Marta supposed that made sense. It would probably be stranger if he were normal. But he seemed to think he were the real one, and she the dream figure. She didn’t argue with him. It was silly to argue with a dream being.

More and more alts populated the mirrors, until they didn’t. One mirror was dark, fuzzy, as if covered in an inky grime. When she touched the glass, it became clear that the grunge was on the inside of the mirror. Even still, however, the inky blots seemed to move, flowing to the place where her hand rested, and clearing away the obstruction.

The space beyond was dark, but she could begin to make out shapes. Two shapes. Two… bodies, nude bodies. Where they sleeping? No, one had its eyes open. Her eyes open. Her own eyes. Open and yet unstaring, with nothing beyond the vacant gaze. Tracing the length of her nude figure, she caught sight of the dagger protruding from her Alt’s chest, made of the same onyx stone that the alts in the other room wore. Clearly the other shape was Peter, a different Peter, clutching at a bloody wound in his gut.

“They’re dead…” she breathed, clinging tighter to DreamPeter. Joy and curiosity churned into terror, paralyzing her in place. All the while, the inky blots grew in size and shape, and sprouted a single prehensile eye.

“G’y’tekel’d, Martatep.” It murmured, its voice like a discordant piccolo. “G’voh’ma.”
 
“Who wasn’t you?” Pete asked, watching as Marta seemed to talk to the tarry, liquid thing before them. “Is it... can you understand it?”

The thing splashed downwards into a puddle and flowed away, moving like a roll of water draining downstream. For a few breaths all he could do was stare. But then, from a distance, he could hear voices. Familiar voices. Marta’s, and a voice that sounded like his on a recording. “Oh, shit,” he breathed. “We... somehow, I think we pulled them in.”

He took Marta’s hand. “Come on. We need to find them.”

-*-

The dream was getting weirder and weirder. A mirror reflecting their dead bodies, and a talking blob of black ink? Freud would have a field day with all of those elements, wouldn’t he? “Why don’t we back away from the creepy nightmare thing?” he said, trying hard to sound calm.

“Ahkaigft, Martatep,” the talking blob wheezed. “Yoisogtah ahkaigft yeh?”

“Seriously,” he continued, trying to pull her away. “Let’s go.”
 
Marta frowned as DreamPeter tried to urge her away from… well, whatever the thing was. Sure, it was utterly alien in nature, but it wasn’t scary. It just seemed sad. Lonely. It would never hurt her. She knew that, in a way she couldn’t begin to explain.

R̷̯̜̕e̴̢̍m̴̨̧͐̃ȇ̶̛̫͚m̷̦̘͠b̸̙̣͋͆è̸͇̌ṟ̶̨͂̇

“Seriously,” he continued, trying to pull her away. “Let’s go.”

Marta lingered a moment longer, before allowing DreamPeter to lead her away. But she shared one last look with the being, inexplicable guilt washing through her. But conversation distracted her, conversation that sounded like them, but wasn’t.

“There you are!” Another reflection Marta declared, from the other side of her mirror. She looked just like the Marta that slept on the couch in just the other room, but most of the Marta looked like that. Looked like herself, but with the strange black jewelry. “We have to wake up, and get out of here before…”

“Huh? We?” she asked, surprised that this dream double seemed aware she was part of a dream as well. “Before what?”

“Before they find us.” Dream Marta insisted, reaching through the glass to grab her arm. The contact Shacked Marta awake, sitting up in bed with Peter still wrapped around her. Brushing tangled hair out of her face, Marta shook her head.

“What the hell?”
 
“What the hell?”

Pete felt the dream collapse, the hall of mirrors tearing itself apart as he fell. A jerk of muscles brought him awake, leaving him feeling as if he’d fallen into bed next to Marta. Blinking, he found her sitting up with the blankets around her waist. She looked sexy as hell, but somehow worried. “Nightmare?” he asked, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her. “I know I had a fucking weird dream.”

He kissed her hair, then pressed his palm against her belly. “Be nice to think you’re already carrying our baby.”

-*-

The transition from dreaming to waking was rough, as if he’d been woken up rather than waking up naturally. Pete yawned and rubbed his eyes and grunted as he shifted around. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “I thought the crazy dreams were over.”

He stared up at the ceiling of the lodge house, aware of just how uncomfortable the hide-a-bed mattress was. It hadn’t been all that important last night, What with he and Marta wildly fucking each other into oblivion. But now? His back hurt.

“Jesus,” he breathed, taking his lover’s hand. “That thing in the dream. It... knew you.”
 
Marta snuggled into Peter, letting his warmth chase away the remnants of the dream. “Yeah. It started off nice, but got really weird. But, it’s been a weird couple of days, hasn’t it?”

He kissed her hair, then pressed his palm against her belly. “Be nice to think you’re already carrying our baby.”

And that was all it took to chase away the rest of her unease. She smiled big, and took a loving kiss from Peter’s lips. “I hope so. Though, I am not going to let you off the hook until we know I’m pregnant.” Her lips trailed along his jaw and upto to his ear, and bare breasts flattened into his chest, “I am going to ride you long and hard every day, until you fill me with your seed. I want to find out just how much cum you can pump into me.”

She kissed him again, hungrier this time, and pushed him away with a giggle, “But breakfast first, because I am famished.”


Marta groaned and sat up. Fuck, she missed her bed. She missed her life. The alt couple were friendly and generous, but it wasn’t the same.

“That thing in the dream. It... knew you.”

“Not me,” she insisted, wrapping her arms around her knees. Breathing out a long exhale, she collected herself. “But, I think there is a connection. It’s like…” She grasped for words. “Are you familiar with Carl Jung, and his theory of collective unconscious? I think it’s like that.”

The chill of the morning caught up to her, and she leaned into Peter for heat and comfort. “I think all the versions of myself are connected to a collective unconscious. And that might be how the shared dreams keep happening. Or, I don’t know, something like that.”

Sighing, she closed her eyes. “The last alt must have made a promise to that thing. A promise, or a sacrifice, I don’t quite understand. It thinks there is a connection, a union between them. Between us. And it wants to… to reestablish that union. Whatever that means, I am sure I don’t want to know.”

The bedroom door opened, and her alt stepped out, wearing her robe and a big smile on her face. “Morning!” she chirped, busying herself with the fridge, “Did you two sleep okay?”

“Well enough,” Marta agreed, tugging on a shirt and pants. “Can I help you with breakfast?”

“Sure,” her alt said, pulling out milk and eggs from the fridge, “What do you guys want?”
 
“Eggs and toast would be fine,” Pete said, dragging on his jeans. “AnythingI can do to help?”

“Probably just stay out of the way,” his doppelgänger said, tying off the belt of his robe as he emerged from the bedroom. “Marta bites if you get underfoot.” Both Petes considered that for a moment, then chuckled. “And not in a good way,” the doppelgänger added.

“Right, yeah,” Pete agreed, pulling his shirt over his head and trying not to feel self-conscious. It was kind of awkward, wildly fucking in front of someone and then seeing them the next day. Particularly when one of the witnesses looked exactly like the woman you’d enthusiastically fucked.

“Weird, isn’t it?” the other Pete said, gathering up the spare blankets.

“What?” Pete asked, trying not to sound guilty.

The other Pete laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’d be a bit more used to it. But, this. Seeing you and your Marta. It’s... weird.”

“Yeah.” Pete folded the bed away. “I don’t know how used to it you really get.”

“Fair.” He watched the two Martas at work in the kitchen. “There are some benefits, though.” A grin. “Any thoughts about what we should do today, ladies?”
 
“Well, I figure we would start heading home around noon. Maybe grab a bite to eat on the way,” AltMarta suggested, scrapping scrambled eggs off the bottom of the pan before they burnt.

Marta didn’t speak, just arranged toast onto each plate as it finished. The alts seemed to be a good mood this morning. A really good mood. Had they shared that dream with them? It wasn’t absolute proof of anything. They still likely believed that the dreams were just dreams, after all. But how to bring it up, without sounding crazy?

“If the offer to stay at Peter’s place,” she started, pointing towards the alt of her lover, “is still on the table, we’d like to take you up on it.”

“Of course!” her alt agreed, scooping eggs onto each plate. “We are just going to have to be careful. Especially around people we know. It would be really hard to explain if someone caught both versions of us together.”

“Agreed.” Marta helped carry the plates over to the table. “Maybe we can make up a schedule?”


They hadn’t broached the subject of the possibly shared dreams over breakfast, instead opting to give their alts some time alone, and getting their own stuff together in preparation to leave the cabin.

Marta packed up the last of their belongings, and sagged back into the couch with a sigh. It was nice to think they were going to have a familiar place to stay for the time being, so long as she didn’t think too hard about everything they’d lost in the process. But, even as she wanted to relax, last night’s dream haunted her. Was the Circle tracking them now? How long could they really hide? Would this reality’s versions of themselves even agree to help them?

The questions were too much, too heavy to bear, and she sighed loudly as Peter came back in to collect the last of their things. “We really need to figure out a way talk to them about… well, everything. Should we bring up the dreams, and the fact that well all had the same one? I mean, in all likelihood, anyways?”



R̷̯̜̕e̴̢̍m̴̨̧͐̃ȇ̶̛̫͚m̷̦̘͠b̸̙̣͋͆è̸͇̌ṟ̶̨͂̇

Marta went over a mental checklist of their things once more as Peter packed up the last of their suitcases. When the mental checklist failed to satisfy her unease, she began writing out a list of things they had brought with them, and matching it up with the things she’d packed up. Still, worry gnawed at the back of her mind. She was forgetting something; she just knew it. So, she double checked all the rooms, poring through every conceivable hiding spot she could imagine. But every last thing was accounted for, and nothing was out of place.

R̷̯̜̕e̴̢̍m̴̨̧͐̃ȇ̶̛̫͚m̷̦̘͠b̸̙̣͋͆è̸͇̌ṟ̶̨͂̇

Peter, who had long finished his tasks, watched her fretting and pacing with silent patience. “I’m sorry, Pete. I just can’t shake the feeling I am forgetting something. I just wish I knew what it was.”
 
“That’s... yeah. We probably should.” He checjed under the couch, wanting to make sure none of their things - particularly their notes - had been left behind. “I just don’t know how, you know?”

He chuckled at that as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. “Of course you do. But there’s just so much we don’t understand. Like why these dreams keep happening. Is it something about us? About our research?”

Satisfied that nothing would be left behind, he grabbed the last bag from the table. “Maybe we could find answers in...”. He shook it off. “No, that’s ridiculous. Maybe the reason for the dreams can be teased out of those creepy reference books of yours? Or maybe we could risk a visit to Sebelah? She might know more.”

-*-

Pete checked his rear-view mirror, making sure that their other-worldly duplicates were following. It wouldn’t do to let them get lost in traffic, not after they crossed from a different universe. When he saw their silver SUV, he settled back.

“Still feeling like we forgot something?” he asked. “I didn’t see anything we left behind, but it’s not too late to double back and check.”

The car bounced as he pulled out of the gravel parking lot and onto the road. “Do you ever remember your dreams?” he asked, out of nowhere. “Because I had this really strange one last night, the kind where you feel like you’re awake even though you know you aren’t.” He paused, checking traffic at a four-way stop. “I haven’t had one like that since I was, I don’t know. Ten, maybe.”
 
“Still feeling like we forgot something?” Peter asked. “I didn’t see anything we left behind, but it’s not too late to double back and check.”

Marta looked back, wishing the sight of the cabin could jog her memory. Nothing came, and she just sighed and shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s something we left behind. Maybe it’s something I was supposed to do for work? Some deadline I have coming up, perhaps.”

“Do you ever remember your dreams?” he asked, out of nowhere. “Because I had this really strange one last night, the kind where you feel like you’re awake even though you know you aren’t.”

R̷̯̜̕e̴̢̍m̴̨̧͐̃ȇ̶̛̫͚m̷̦̘͠b̸̙̣͋͆è̸͇̌ṟ̶̨͂̇

Marta frowned, the feeling like she’d forgotten something growing even stronger. Except this time, she did remember. “I mean, I don’t usually, but I do today.”

“There was a hallway, full of mirrors. But they weren’t exactly mirrors. Each one reflected us, but the reflections were different. Like… well, those two from the other reality. Not very different, just a little.”

“One of the versions of me were already pregnant,” she added in, smiling fondly at the memory. Fingers stroked down her own stomach, hope and joy bubbling up within her. “Then… well, after that it got weird. There was a dead version of ourselves. That was creepy. And there was this… well, I don’t really know how to describe it. A creature, I guess, but also like a sentient blob of goo?”

Marta shrugged, “It spoke in a strange language I’ve never heard before, but a dream version of you pulled me away before I could further study it. Then we encountered another version of ourselves that warned us against lingering in the dream. And that’s when I woke up.”

Leaning back in her seat, she glanced over at Pete, “What about yours?”
 
Pete’s mouth opened and closed as Marta spoke, and each time he barely managed to cut himself off and let her keep talking. “That’s...” he began as she finished, then swallowed hard. “I, That, I had that same dream. Exactly that same dream.”

He shifted his hands on the steering wheel, trying to ease the tension in his grip. “I, there was a hall of mirrors in my dream. And there was, like, s you with purple hair and tattoos. And a me in one of those Mad Max mutant biker suits, and, and the dead versions of us.”

He shivered. “And the black thing. It was, I don’tknow Talking? Like, I think it said your name. But it mostly sounded like drone metal fucking a bagpipe.”

A glance at her expression confirmed his uneasy suspicions. “How... hiw did we have the same dream? And, did our guests have it as well? Because, I think they were in it as well.”
 
“This makes no sense,” Marta murmured, shaking her head. Then she sighed, and continued, “And yet it makes perfect sense. Bot you and her spoke to me in the dream, as if you were aware it was a dream.”

Marta thought hard, reaching into her mind to piece together more of their shared dream. “I think we met up with them at the end. It’s hard to tell, really, given how similar most of us were. She said something, towards the end of the dream, something that shocked me awake, but I can’t really recall what it was now. Maybe that’s what my mind has been trying to get me to remember?”

Trees passed in flashes of yellows and oranges and reds, with a few still managing to be green. “Did you notice a lot of them were wearing jewelry with those black stones? Just like the others wear. Maybe its connected somehow?” She forced an awkward laugh “God, but that sounds dumb, like this is some sort of witchcraft, or superstition. But, I guess that is how humans have always understood the complex, before we’ve had the science to study it.”
 
“That makes sense,” Pete said slowly, uncomfortably aware that it did make sense. “I’m a lucid dreamer, and I used to have some really wild dreams when I was a kid, and they’re still pretty vivid. It wouldn’t be the first time I...”

He bit it off, swallowing hard at the memory. Even now the horror of that last nightmare, and the promise the Knight of Cerulean Shadows had extracted, gripped his heart like a vise. “Yeah. It... wouldn’t surprise me if we saw them in our dreams,” he added.

They drove in silence. “Did you notice a lot of them were wearing jewelry with those black stones?”

“Hm?” he replied.

“Just like the others wear. Maybe its connected somehow?” She forced an awkward laugh “God, but that sounds dumb, like this is some sort of witchcraft, or superstition. But, I guess that is how humans have always understood the complex, before we’ve had the science to study it.”

“Yeah. Maybe it’s, I don’t know.” He frowned, wishing any of this would make sense. “Maybe... it relates to the gates? Assuming they really were in our dreams.” He sighed. “But... you really were in mine. So it makes sense that they could have been as well.” A snort. “As much as any of this makes sense.”

He drove in silence for a few minutes, before a shiver crawled down his spine. “Does... could that thing in the dream... be real?”
 
“I… I don’t see how that’s even possible.” The more she thought about it, however, the more Marta frowned “But many things that seemed impossible are clearly occurring, so I don’t think we can write off that possibility entirely. I think we’re are going to have to ask the others.”

The rest of the trip back to Arkham was uneasy. They couldn’t even enjoy lunch, opting to carryout some sandwiches that could be eaten on the road. By early afternoon they returned home, and gave the others a few hours to get settled in to Peter’s old place before heading over. They wanted answers, of course, but packed up a housewarming gift nonetheless. A couple of unopened bottles of wine from Marta’s place, since she had no plans to drink them anyways.

“This is awfully generous,” AltMarta acknowledged as she answered the door and let them in, “And all my favorites too!”

She laughed, “I imagine so. But, since we are hoping to start our family soon, I may as well give it up for now.”

“Well, I am not planning on having a baby anytime soon, so I will be sure to enjoy this.” The other Marta laughed, as she put them away. Already they’d brought in some of their stuff, mostly books and respective computers, and otherwise unpacked boxes. “So, uh, comfortable?”

They both laughed, and took a seat together on the couch, “Yeah, it feels quite a bit like home.” Her alt smiled, but she could see the pain hiding behind the smile. A longing, perhaps.

“So uh, about last night…” she started, wondering how exactly one would go about asking this question. All of it sounded crazy, but surely they would understand. “Well, so far as we can tell, Pete and I had the same dream. And we think you might have been in it as well. Do… do you know anything about that?”
 
Pete put the bottles of wine away, trying not to flinch as he found the wine rack in the “wrong” place - next to the fridge, instead of in the pantry. It had been like this ever since he and Marta had walked in. Everything was familiar, but everything was subtly wrong.

But there wasn’t a dead copy of Marta on the floor. So that was a point in its favor.

“So uh, about last night…” he heard Marta - no, the other Marta - say as he returned to the living room. He swallowed as he sat, bracing for the awkward conversation about exhibitionism.

“Well, so far as we can tell,” she said, “Pete and I had the same dream.”

“What?” It came out involuntarily, dragged free from sheer shock. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marta having a similar reaction.

“And we think you might have been in it as well,” she continued. “Do… do you know anything about that?”

“Uhm.” Pete hesitated, suddenly wishing he’d opened the wine. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

“Really?” His doppelgänger leaned in, suddenly intense. “You know that’s... I mean, do you..?”

“Yeah.” Pete nodded. “If you’re talking about that promise?” The other Pete nodded. “It’s... not like that. I think. It’s...”. He drew a deep breath. “Right. The facts. Right after opening the first gate, Marta and so began experiencing extremely vivid dreams. Lucid dreams, that seemed to be shared.” He watched his doppelgänger’s startled reaction. “So... we set a test. I asked Marta to remind me if something when we woke up. And she did.”

“Shit,” the other Pete breathed. “But... how? What makes it...”

Pete shrugged. “No idea. I’ve got crazy half-baked notions, but I can’t think of a way to begin testing them.”
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom