Allie Levy (Female)

You’re in a dream. You know this, because a giant, angelic, naked woman is laying on her stomach in front of you. Her eyes look into you, dreamily as a lover looking at her beloved. Her head is as big as your whole body, but you don’t feel frightened. You are feeling calm and peaceful even.

“Hey, Sleepy Head,” she teases, “Glad to find you here. I am the Goddess Allura, divinity of Love, Passion, and Devotion. And you are quite the lover-girl.”

You’d think that anything else she said would surprise you, but the last part is the only bit to throw you off.

“I’m not really much of a lover. I don’t have a boyfriend or anything. I think you may have the wrong gal.”

“Oh? You think love is about whether you are single or not?” The Goddess didn’t sound offended. In fact, everything she said felt like a flirtatious teasing.

“Well… I guess not, but I’m still not very good at talking to men. And when it looks like I might find someone interested I… scare them off.” You look down at the white, ethereal floor, embarrassed to admit it.

“And what do you do that scares them away?”

“I… have…”

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t judge. Just say it.”

“I have… **** tastes. And most people would think I’m a freak if they knew about it.” Your blushing intensifies.

“Love and passion take many forms. And there are more people in the world like you than you think. How about I give you a little help? Grant you a wish of sorts?”

You thought about this for a moment. There were a lot of things that could improve your sex life. You needed more information first though, even if this is all a dream.

“What kind of wish are we talking about?”

“All sorts of things that fulfill your fantasies. You could wish for every man to be wildly attracted to you. Or wish for the stamina and genitals of champions. What about wishing for everyone to share your ‘**** desires?’”

You could feel the temptation to pick a classic option, like the ones she provided, but… it wasn’t really your style. Giant tits are probably more hassle than help. And the others felt like brainwashing. Mind control was a bridge too far, even for you. You wanted to enact your fantasies, but with willing partners. Truly willing ones, not people you’ve rewritten to be ‘willing.’

“Those feel too… controlling? I don’t want to seem ungrateful or anything, Ms. Allura, but those options are too manipulative to feel comfortable doing. I want someone to like doing what I like of their own free will.”

“Fascinating,” the ever smiling goddess sighed, “You told me you aren’t a great lover, and yet here you are: given the opportunity to shape the world to your wildest desires and you are still concerned about the pleasure and well-being of others. That’s the sign of an exceptional lover, if you ask me. That’s why I came to you, Lover-girl. You only need a little boost to become a passionate lover to those like you, who feel left out by their unique tastes. What do you think would help out?”

You figured that she already knew everything you needed, but she wanted the solution from your lips.

“Well, I guess the hardest thing is just knowing who else shares my… tastes. They aren’t really socially acceptable to talk about, so most people hide their interests in them, sometimes even from themselves.”

“Mmmmm, intelligence is so sexy. You are very perceptive. Go on.”

“So what if I had a way to tell what people’s sexual interests are just by looking at them? That wouldn’t really change anything about them, or **** them to do something they wouldn’t want to do. It would just let me know who to narrow down my efforts on. Kind of like a dating app, really. Just something to help match me with people like myself.”

“That sounds wonderful. You still have to put in the work to show your devotion to your lovers, but a little icebreaking can go a long way. Clever little fox. Very well, just check your phone when you wake up. I’m more tech-savvy than I look.”

—

You awaken from the very lucid dream and very wet in your panties. A love goddess, huh? Erotic dreams are a helluva thing. But…

You glance at your bedside table, seeing your phone on the charger. Curiosity takes over and you unlock the smartphone. It looks like it always does: a grid of app icons, with a generic slideshow as your background picture. And then you see one more icon, not there last night.

It’s an innocuous grey-on-dark-grey silhouette of a person’s head and shoulders, with a heart on their chest. The app is merely titled ‘Profile.’

You press the new icon.