Other Side Other Version

The following dark story has themes of non-consent sex, humiliation, abuse and other dark themes. If such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story not meant as any sort of gender, political or societal protest. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. If you have issues with such kinks, please do not read. All characters are 18+.

"

NOOO!

" The college aged woman screams in terror as she tries to run away from me on this very dark night. The scream that comes out of her is so filled with emotion that it could make the coldest of hearts seize up with worry for her. But it only makes me want to laugh.

The very fit and sexy woman runs as fast as her legs can take her through the dark, empty park, but if only she was as fast and smart as she was beautiful she might have a chance against me. But in her panicked mind, she makes sure to stay on the trail, making it extremely easy to follow thanks to the overhead lights. If she went into the woods or anywhere else where the light wasn't so good she might have had a chance.

Toying with her, I run right behind her, my forty-two year old body playfully slapping at her, hitting a different place each time. I do this while laughing not to mention slapping that nice firm ass of hers every so often. I know what I'm doing is something a younger brother would do to his older sister to annoy her, but I can't help it, it's damn funny. Only it doesn't annoy the pretty woman but terrifies her.

"

HELP!

" The woman screams, putting her soul into the scream which makes me laugh harder. Does she really think there's anyone here to save her? She could scream all night long and no one would hear.

Deciding I've had enough, I pick up the pace to move next to her where I wrap my right arm around her and lift. Doing this takes her off her feet, but she isn't going down without a fight. The woman kicks her feet and swings her arms, struggling with all her might. It's actually quite impressive how much fight she has.

To put an end to this, I lift her with both arms only to slam her to the ground, right on her back. This is a hard slam too, much like a legit wrestling move to stun an opponent.

The slender woman hits the ground with a hard thud, all the fight being knocked out of her as she's knocked silly. Instantly the insane fighting spirit she had disappears, leaving a groaning scared woman that will be so easy to rape and humiliate.

Dropping down, I straddle her hips, my ass pinning down her legs. I do this because I know kicking is going to be her best defense, so I want to negate it. I then lean over, using my hands to try and pin her arms. While doing so, I do notice a rather cute tattoo that the woman has on her forearm. It's Tina from Bob's Burgers in a dancing pose.

"

NO!

" The woman screams in a high-pitched scream, trying with all her might to get free. This makes me laugh, hard. A laugh that is even louder than her screams.

"

NOOOOO!

" I scream, my deep male voice sounding so different from the unknown female victim as I sit up in bed, all alone in my apartment. My bedroom is dark and very empty to the point my fear laden scream echoes back to me.

Covered in sweat, I frantically look around, expecting the rapist and victim to be here, even if I am in my apartment and not in some park. My heart pounds like a jackhammer as I look around over and over, knowing that I'm alone but still checking repeatedly.

Knowing that I am indeed alone, I look at the clock on the nightstand. It shows that it is three in the morning. To this I scoff as for some reason, the nightmares always hit at three.

Sitting on the side of my bed, I place my hands to my face and try to get the nightmare out of my head. Like having food poisoning, the nightmare lingers, the traces of it refusing to leave, making me feel like shit. This time it's the woman's scream that sticks with me. It pierces my soul and stabs me, making me feel like I was the one raping her, when I could never do that to anyone. The poor woman was truly scared for her life, and I can't help but feel like I was the one doing it.

This is yet another one of the damn realistic nightmares that have plagued me for a while now. A nightmare that feels more like a bad LSD trip than a dream. A nightmare where I am forced to watch some crazed rapist take his victim, only from his point-of-view.

They started about two months ago and damn it if I don't have at least one a week. Never on the same day, but always with the same man. On a good week there's only one nightmare. On the worst week, every night of the week I was forced to watch that asshole rape a different victim.

Whomever the man is, he is a complete bastard. On purpose he doesn't just rape the woman and with her go, but instead toys with them. Plays cat and mouse with them, setting up traps and watching his victims take the bait. Where he gets off not on the sex of it, but at the humiliation he forces on them.

The nightmares are bad enough, but what makes them unbearable is it feels like I'm the one doing it. That I'm the one doing those evil acts to those women. This is because it's so fucking realistic. If it was more dreamlike, it wouldn't be so bad, but it feels so real.

When I say it feels real, I really mean it. And not the big things that you think would make a dream feel realistic, like how cool the night air was in the dream. I mean the tiny, tiny details, like how the woman had tiny beads of sweat on her forehead from running. Or the way the dirt stuck to her stomach from being slammed to the ground.

There's really only one question that matters to me. Why the fuck am I dreaming of raping women? That is not like me at all. I've never forced anyone, especially not for sex. That's just not me. Hell, I don't even like BDSM porn for hell's sake. So why is my mind thinking of this stuff and forcing me to watch it? Is it some sort of self-punishment?

With the nightmare still lingering in the front of my brain, I get up and walk around my empty apartment. My body is still trembling, almost shaking from how intense it was, as unmanly as that may be. By how large I am, you would think nothing could rattle me, but these nightmares do.

I'm six foot three and two hundred and eighty pounds of mostly muscle, which took me a while to reach. The weight, not the height. I'm the type of guy most look at and think someone like me could get hit by a car and be fine. Yet a nightmare comes in and wipes me out more than a gunshot could.

As I often do when I can't sleep, I consider working out. Doing exercises is how I spend a lot of my time, not because I am some gym-rat but because it calms me. I'm not sure why but working out always calms me down no matter how badly I am stressed. From weightlifting to stretching, it reaches a place in my soul where I always calm down.

Instead of working out, I sit on my couch knowing it is too early to be making that sort of noise. Working out would no doubt make all sorts of noise, not to mention make the floor groan which would wake my neighbors. So instead I sit on the couch, listening to the silence trying to figure out why I am having these dreams.

The few friends I've actually told about my nightmares say it's my brain's way of coping with stress. That I must be dealing with something huge, and this is the only way my mind can process it. That may be true, but what this great amount of stress is, I don't know. There's no big stress in my life. Hell, the most exciting thing to happen to me is when I wasn't looking where I was going and ran into a brick wall. And that wasn't stressful but hilarious.

Each dream I have always has a different woman. Isn't that strange? Don't stress dreams repeat themselves? So wouldn't it be the same woman...or women? Or am I thinking of what some movie might have said?

The last dream I had before tonight was what, five days ago? That dream was about the girl that got tricked at Lloyd's bar. Lloyd's bar is the bar I go to whenever I go out drinking, or at least the bar I used to go to. Thanks to the nightmare, that may end.

As I sit in the darkness of my apartment, I replay that nightmare in perfect clarity. I remember how that pretty black girl came up to the bar where I was sitting, trying to ask the bartender where the bathroom was. As the bar was packed and had loud music playing, the bartender couldn't hear her.

Instead of telling her the bathroom was in the far corner of the dive bar, I heard the nightmare version of myself tell her it was behind the storeroom door. For her to go through the door and she would see it. And being the trusting type, the good-looking black woman did just that, only to discover the room was a storeroom and not the bathroom. By that point it was too late.

I watched myself go into the storeroom after her and close the door. Saw myself slap her several times before pinning her down on top of a keg. She screamed and screamed, but the loud music masked all sounds as my nightmare-self raped her.

In something I won't admit to anyone, I thought for a while I was getting psychic visions or something. That I was watching some rapist commit his crimes via a supernatural connection of some sort. This didn't make any logical sense, but in a way it did, at least to me. I mean, all the nightmares take place somewhere I know.

But nope. I looked at the local crime reports and found nothing related to any rapes. I did Google searches for the victims, only to find squat. I even asked around at the places where I dreamed the rapes happened, and nothing was ever reported. If there is a serial rapist around here, something would have been reported by now.

Confused, tired and feeling ashamed of myself as if I raped that poor woman, I lean back on my couch. I stay like this until I find myself waking up, having dozed off. Glancing at the clock again, I see it is now five thirty.

Deciding it's close enough to six, which is when the gym opens, I stand up and grab my workout gear. There is still several hours before work, so I have time to kill, and I know this will work out any remaining threads from the nightmare.

I think the reason why the nightmares affect me so much is I'm scared I could be capable of doing those horrible acts. I mean, I am strong enough to hold an average woman down and do that. So what if those nightmares are showing the future, or my mind telling me what I'm to become? That would be my personal hell. It really would be the opposite of everything I hold dear. I think that's what I fear the most.

I've always been a good person, or at least I've tried to be. Sure, I make mistakes, but never would I force a woman to have sex with it. Outside of me knowing I am a piece of shit for doing such a thing, I would be mortified of what people would think when they find out I did it. That they would no longer see me as the kind and caring man that I try hard to be, but a filthy, evil rapist that ruins lives. I can think of nothing worse as it would ruin my life.

These are some of the thoughts and fears I have as I do my standard early bird workout at my gym. Where I don't focus on any one body part but try to do all to get my full body blood pumping.

Feeling so much better, I go next to the chest press. The chest press is one of my favorite machines here, mainly because of all the different workouts you can do from it. This makes me smile as I do feel like I've pushed the nightmare out of my mind.

"Do I know you?!" A woman suddenly demands, seemingly appearing out of nowhere in front of me. She steps up to me with a purpose, clearly confronting me.

Taken back by this, I stop my rep and let go of the bar. Upon looking at her, I get the weirdest feeling I know her but have no clue from where. Not that I wouldn't mind meeting her, as she is an incredibly beautiful black woman in her twenties that is in wonderful shape.

"I...I'm sorry?" I ask in response, very honestly confused. Now that I'm able to see her face clearly, I find I really have no idea who she is, nor have I seen her before, not even in this gym.

"Do I know you?" The woman repeats, this time it coming out as a demand. Whomever she is, she is very much worked up. Possibly even wanting a fight. That's not good.

"I don't think so. Am I supposed to know you?" I ask her, trying hard to keep the attitude out of my own voice, which is hard. I know I need to be cool and calm to handle this instead of angry, which will only make things worse. But this is hard as I don't like being accused by people I don't know.

Looking up at her, I see how on edge the woman is. On edge to the point that she may actually attack me, even if I am more than double her size. From the looks of her, I could be as big as a house and she still would attack.

The woman stares into my eyes, her own eyes stern and vibrant. It seems as if she is trying to make up her mind about something. I see her eyes move back and forth between my eyes, desperately searching for something.

"Ok. I...I'm sorry. I thought you looked like someone," the woman then says, softening her stance, but only a little. It's clear that her apology isn't really an apology. It's more like her admitting that I'm not the one she's looking for.

The very pretty black woman takes a few steps backward, to which I can't help but notice she isn't turning her back on me. This makes it feel like she thinks I may attack her or something. She continues to stare at me, her expression suggesting that I could be lying.

"Wait, did I..." I stammer out upon realizing where I think I know her from. Lloyd's. The bar. She was the one that I saw get tricked into that back room.

Only I stop my question because the question I am about to ask isn't one you ask normal people. I mean, asking a woman if she's been raped is horrible enough, but asking if you are the one that raped her is a good way to end up in jail.

"Did a man, who looked like me, attack you?" I ask, rephrasing my question carefully. At this, the woman's eyes light up letting me know she knows exactly what I'm talking about. This seems to be the clue she needed.

My heart starts to pound hard as this is related to my nightmares. All at once it makes me feel overly excited to finally have a lead. Some small clue to help solve all this.

But at the same time it also makes me feel small and helpless as I can't fathom what the hell is going on here. I mean, I can only assume she dreamt of me...raping her. But why? And how?

"Yes. I mean no. I mean..." the woman states, looking confused herself as if she can't pick the right words. She remains on edge, prepared to defend herself even if I haven't made any move towards her.

"Was it a dream?" I then ask, figuring it must have been in a nightmare like mine. The young black woman squints for a moment, then nods her head, still looking at me untrusting.

"I had a nightmare that you raped me. Only, it wasn't a dream. It was, but it wasn't," the woman tells me, making my heart pound hard as it confirms my thought. More than that, this is exactly how I would describe my nightmares. That they feel so damn real that there's no way they could be a dream.

"I've been having them too, only in mine, I...attack...women," I tell the woman, being as honest as I can. Saying this makes my face burn red, as it is so embarrassing. On purpose I don't say rape, as that is a term I rather not say in this already awkward situation.

"It wasn't you in my dream. The guy looked like you, but it wasn't you," the woman says after a long pause. She keeps staring me in the eyes as if searching for something. I'm not sure if she says this to make me feel better, or to confirm it to herself.

"That man was evil. Pure evil. I saw it in his eyes," the woman tells me, stating this as a fact. Like she saw some DNA in the guy to mark him as evil.

"I don't see that in your eyes. I see kindness instead," she says. Something about the way she says this actually makes butterflies flutter in my stomach. Despite the odd situation I can tell she means that in a positive manner, such as she thinks my eyes look pretty.

"I'm Tom," I tell the woman as I have no clue what else to say. What do you tell someone after admitting you had a dream you raped her?

"Loa," the woman says after a long pause. Despite softening her stance more, she still is on edge, making it seem like she thinks me attacking her here and now could be a possibility.

"What did you do? Who did it to you?" Loa suddenly asks but I don't understand.

"I don't follow. I haven't done anything to anyone," I answer, showing my confusion.

"You crossed someone. Made them want revenge. Or you played around with something you shouldn't have," Loa states, implying that I'm lying and know what I did. That I'm playing with her or something. It's enough that a guy on the machine next to us looks at me with a shamed look, as if I really did something.

"Ummm, no. I didn't. Or if I did, I have no idea who they are or what I did. Well, I guess the way people drive these days it could be from road rage as I tend to go just the limit," I tell her honestly.

"Will you come with me, right now?" Loa suddenly asks and it's time for me to get concerned. Her tone is very excited and rushed, letting me know that she has something planned. Something that I probably won't like.

"Go where, and why?" I ask, standing my ground. At this I stand up with my chest pushed out to show the difference between us, physically. That if she is going to try some shit, or get someone to attack me, it's not going to go well for her.

"I want to do a test. A test to prove that I'm right. For that, we need to go to my truck," Loa tells me, to which I can tell she's being honest. I can also tell she's not saying the entire truth either. This concerns me a great deal as I could see her leading me to her truck just so she can grab a gun or something.

"I cannot and will not force you, even though I could. I need you to do this of your own free will," Loa tells me confidently. Hearing this I nearly scoff as I don't think she could force me to blow my nose by throwing pepper in my face, let alone make me go to her truck. She says it so seriously, as if she really believes it.

"Something...something's at play here and I want to find out what, just as you do," Loa adds, sounding very honest.

"I think I'll hang back, unless you can do your test here, with people around," I inform her, still not trusting her. From the look she gives me after saying this, I know this isn't going to fly.

"If you do this for me, I will reward you. I will give you something you will very much enjoy. Please, it is important," Loa says, her voice much softer.

To this I swallow my concern as I feel very strange towards her. It's not every day a young pretty woman wants to talk to my old ass. Then again, it's not every day that a woman accuses me of raping her.

"Fine. After you," I say, letting her know I'm going to do it, even if I know it is a bad decision. With this I motion towards the doors of the gym.

Loa starts to walk immediately without saying a word. There's no smile of gratitude nor statement that it'll be quick and safe. All she does is walk off, not waiting for me at all.

As I begin to walk behind her, I consider how Loa has a very "take-charge" attitude that I both really like and hate. It makes me wonder if she is like this all the time, or just in this situation. It's one of those traits that I could fall in love with but also hate with all my heart, if that makes any sense. Then again, when's the last time I was in any sort of serious relationship?

I follow behind Loa, walking until I reach next to her. There we walk in silence as I can't think of anything to say. Again, this is the most awkward interaction I have ever had in my life. And she is walking very fast too, damn near running.