Hans Christian Andersen's 1841 folk tale Ole Lukøje introduced the Sandman. Andersen wrote:
In the evening, while the children are seated at the table or in their little chairs, he comes up the stairs very softly, for he walks in his socks, then he opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small quantity of very fine dust in their eyes, just enough to prevent them from keeping them open, and so they do not see him. Then he creeps behind them, and blows softly upon their necks, till their heads begin to droop. But Ole-Luk-Oie does not wish to hurt them, for he is very fond of children, and only wants them to be quiet that he may relate to them pretty stories, and they never are quiet until they are in bed and asleep. As soon as they are asleep, Ole-Luk-Oie seats himself upon the bed. He is nicely dressed; his coat is made of silken fabric; it is impossible to say of what color, for it changes from green to red, and from red to blue as he turns from side to side. Under each arm he carries an umbrella; one of them, with pictures on the inside, he spreads over the good children, and then they dream the most beautiful stories the whole night. But the other umbrella has no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty children so that they sleep heavily, and wake in the morning without having dreams at all.
A child. Not too young but young enough to be tired at only 10:00 p.m. And parents. Adults, at least, but probably parents. Both tired from the labors of the day. That would make things easier. He could feel the family's fatigue radiating from the house in the way that one could feel heat from a fire.
Luke was young for a sandman, only 112-years-old. His first 99 years had been spent as an apprentice, traveling with a fully-fledged sandman as he learned sandmagic. When his indenture had ended, he had been given all of the equipment necessary to a sandman's trade. First, a nightcloak that could take on the colors of its surroundings. Standing still, it would render him completely invisible and even if he moved, only the faintest of distortions in the air would betray his presence. Second, whisperboots, which mute his footfalls to the point at which he could sneak up on a rabbit. Third, the twin umbrellas: the Umbrella of Beginnings to weave dreams and the Umbrella of Endings to take them away. The umbrellas were strapped in holsters on his back, keeping them secure until he needed them. Finally, the sandbag, an unassuming black cloth bag, worn at the hip. The dust from this bag was the conduit for the magic that he had learned during his apprenticeship.
Luke drew the hood of the nightcloak over his head and willed himself hidden. The colors around him bled into the fabric of the cloak until Luke was invisible. He walked to the front door, appearing at most like a heat haze in the light of the porch. With his right hand, Luke reached across to the sandbag sitting on his left hip. He withdrew a pinch of white dust and with an expert flick of his wrist, sent it towards the keyhole. The pinch moved like a miniature comet, shedding off outer layers of dust until it finally struck the keyhole. Luke whispered three arcane syllables and the door unlocked soundlessly.
Making a mental note to refill his sandbag, which was only half full, Luke withdrew another pinch of dust and kept it in his right hand. There was a reason that it was called a “sandbag” even though the substance he withdrew was so fine that it could only be called dust. The sandbag could be filled with sand of almost any variety but once it was closed and shaken several times, the sand was always converted into the white powder that sandmen used in their magic.
Using his left hand, Luke eased the front door open. There was no one around but he could hear voices nearby and there was a light on at the end of the hall. Luke gently closed the door and walked forward silently. There was light coming from under the closed door of one room, but Luke ignored it and continued forward until he reached the well-lit area at the end of the hallway. A kitchen. The mother and father were sitting across from each other at the table. The father was speaking.
“...told him that I'd have to get back to him on Monday. And then he started acting like it was my fault that he got them to me so late in...”
The mother made sympathetic noises. Luke was standing at the edge of the kitchen and could not see the mother, but he had a good view of the father. Slowly, Luke slipped his right hand out of the folds of his nightcloak. An expert sandman could launch the dust with only the barest tips of his fingers ever visible. Luke needed his hand exposed up to his wrist to make sure that the fabric would not affect his aim. Had the father turned his head at that moment, he would have seen a disembodied hand floating in the hallway. But in the next second Luke had launched the dust and his hand was hidden back under the protective invisibility.
As it flew, the little rocket of dust faded out of the visible spectrum, taking on the colors around it just as a nightcloak would. Luke watched, relaxing his eyes as he had been taught. He could not see the dust itself but he looked for the little distortions in the air that marked its passing. The father sniffed as the fine cloud of dust splashed across his face. He blinked slowly, becoming much less animated even though he had been working himself up over his insignificant problems at work. His speech gradually slowed, although he kept talking. He appeared for all the world like a child trying to stay up past his bedtime.
Luke moved into the kitchen, shrouded in his cloak. He could see the mother now. She looked concerned by the change in her husband. Understandable. Luke had imbued that dust with a little more magic than he was supposed to, which had induced exhaustion rapidly. A proper dreamcasting would have involved a light-handed approach, spread out over at least an hour. But Luke was not interested in lulling these two into a gentle and natural sleep. The mother's concern with the father had the added benefit of locking her attention while Luke drew another pinch of dust and flicked his wrist outside of the nightcloak. The worry lines on the mother's head smoothed as tension began to ebb and she struggled to stay awake too.
Without worrying that they would notice any minor ripples in the air, Luke approached the couple invisibly. He stood behind the father's chair first. Safely shielded from the mother's view by the father's drooping head, Luke lifted his hood several inches, exposing his mouth. Gently, he blew on the man's neck. The magic in the father grew, like embers reacting to air and becoming a proper flame. The father's head sank lower as waves of exhaustion rolled through him. Before Luke had even run out of breath, the father's head rested gently on the table and he was breathing deeply.
Luke had lowered his head along with the father as he had blown on the man's neck, so his hood had hung in front of his face like a veil, shielding him from the mother's sight. So much of his apprenticeship had been devoted to remaining unseen that such movements were second nature to Luke by now. The mother did look vaguely worried as she saw her husband lower his head to the table, but the dust was slowing her thoughts and relaxing her body. Before her concern could grow, Luke was standing behind her, blowing on her neck. Like her husband, the mother bowed her head, sinking lower as if Luke's gentle breath was a physical force pushing her downward. Soon her head rested on the table as well and Luke left her to her natural dreams.
Unlike what the myths might suggest, sandmen are not responsible for all dreams. Humans dream on their own but the power of a sandman lies in shaping the dreams of those that he chooses to. The Council of the Sandmen is the authority that directs various sandmen to alter the dreams of specific individuals. The Council is composed of the original seven sandmen, each over two thousand years old, who alone know the secrets of making the various tools that sandmen everywhere use. The Council uses sandmen to change the dreams, and shape the minds, of the world's most influential people. From the shadows they have steered the world for centuries toward some fate that they do not deign to share.
Luke cared little for the politics of the Council. They had prevented several human wars from ever happening but if rumors were to be believed, they had also instigated one or two. However, regardless of their moral worth, Luke cooperated with the Council to avoid being stripped of his position and power. He had not been given an assignment for months. When not on a mission, sandmen were ordered to maintain ordinary lives, keeping their treasury of tools hidden and safe. Luke had trouble following that mandate.
You: idk maybe
MrsMaciStyles: you should!!!!
MrsMaciStyles: idont want to go alone :(
MrsMaciStyles: I wont no anybody
You: except rebecca
You: why cant you ask stacy?
[MrsMaciStyles is typing...]
Before she could see Maci's response, Jasmine shrieked and flinched backwards so hard that she toppled out of her chair. She landed painfully on her butt, her legs still twisted over the fallen chair. She could have sworn that she had seen a hand floating by her bed when she had turned her head. Jasmine had showered early tonight so that she would have more time to chat online with her friends before bed. She was wearing her summer pajamas: a simple purple nightie that hung down to her thighs in a shapeless dress. Her black hair, still a little wet from her shower, clumped on her back in a solid mass.
With a low groan Jasmine pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her nightie slid down along her thighs to bunch around her waist. She was about to start standing up when the world tore open in front of her. At least, that is what it looked like. A seam of darkness appeared in midair, between her and her desk. Jasmine watched in shock as the dark patch grew. The hand that she had seen before was pushing out into the light of her room. The hand twitched in a blur of motion. Jasmine opened her mouth to scream, and instead promptly sneezed as her sinuses tickled.
It was as if the sneeze had rid her of her fear, rather than whatever had tickled her nose. Jasmine was aware that she had been terrified moments ago but the emotion was gone now. It was difficult to muster a feeling as strong as fear when she was so tired. Jasmine did not remember being so sleepy, even before she had seen the weird floating hand, but now fatigue was creeping into every part of her body. Her shoulders slumped forward and her eyelids threatened to close even as she tried to stay awake. As she was resisting the urge to curl up right there on the floor, she heard a man's deep voice.
“Get up and tell your friends that you have to go. Then log out.”
Even as exhaustion covered her like a blanket, Jasmine had to obey the voice. She pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly as her tired body kept balance. Her nightie hung limply from her skinny frame as she stumbled forward, stepping past the overturned chair. Still standing, she hunched forward over her keyboard to type.
MrsMaciStyles: u no I dont like stacy :( Pretty pls?
You: i have to go
[You have logged out]
Jasmine felt someone blowing on her neck. It made her damp hair feel even colder against her skin. For some reason it also made her weary body feel even heavier. She blinked slowly, sleepily as the keyboard below her began to get bigger. By the time she realized that she was in fact getting closer to the keyboard, her nose touched down lightly between the 'H' and 'J' keys. As she relaxed further, her head twisted to one side, so that her cheek was cushioned by several keys. The feeling of the keys pushing up against her right cheek was the last sensation she was aware of before closing her eyes.
Luke straightened up once he had finished blowing on the girl's neck. He took a step back, avoiding the toppled chair on the ground. His nightcloak returned to its normal opaque state, no longer mirroring its surroundings. Luke pulled off his hood and almost laughed as he took the time to appreciate his prize. The girl was bent over in almost a right angle. Her legs were still standing straight but her upper body was completely bent over the desk and her keyboard was serving as her pillow. The unnatural positions that people ended up in when sandmagic claimed them were often amusing. This was not true sleep. Like her parents in the kitchen, the girl was in a trance that Luke could use to guide her to a natural sleep. Or not.
“Stand up,” Luke ordered. The girl jerked upward like a marionette whose strings had been tugged. Luke reached out and tugged on her shoulders, turning her perpendicular to her desk so that she was facing him. She was unresisting, only shifting her wait on her feet to keep standing. Her eyes were closed and there were slight marks on her right cheek from where the keyboard had been poking against her soft skin. Luke grinned. “Open your eyes.”
The girl opened her eyes slowly, stopping halfway. That was normal: in a sandtrance humans normally kept their eyes heavily lidded. They would respond to orders but they moved like sleepwalkers. It was annoying whenever one of his assignments involved taking someone to a specific place because the person would always stumble forward as if drunk. But Luke found the behavior more tolerable, even cute, in his younger targets.
“We're going to have a lot of fun, little doll,” Luke said softly. The girl tilted her head up and looked at him blankly. So cute. Like a puppy responding to her master's voice. “Take off your pajamas for me.”
The little thing immediately twined her fingers around the bottom of her nightie and pulled it up over her head. Luke would have appreciated a slow tease more, but he found it easy to forgive her now that he could drink in the sight of so much naked flesh. In fact as she dropped the nightie onto the chair at her feet, all that she had left on was a pair of delicate pink panties. She made no move to take them off and Luke eventually realized that she had not interpreted the command to include them.
“You feel much better now. It makes you happy to wear less clothes,” Luke informed the entranced girl. An empty smile spread the girl's lips as Luke fed her the feelings. He grinned back at her, “But do you know what would feel even better?”
The girl looked up at him blankly. Luke wondered if she was actually trying to think of an answer to the rhetorical question. He did not envy her if she was. Right now sorting through her thoughts would be like trying to navigate through mud, or perhaps more appropriately, quicksand. After meeting her small, empty smile for a few seconds, Luke grew bored and supplied the answer. “Taking off your panties. Do it now.”
Although he might have been imagining it, Luke thought the little girl smiled a bit wider as he gave her the key to feeling even better. She brought her hands up to the elastic waistband of her underwear and he enjoyed the pleasant view of her bending forward to slide them down her skinny legs. She stepped out of them one foot at a time and then straightened back up.
“Very good,” Luke purred. “You feel so good now. You love being naked.” Luke stooped forward, swinging his arm behind the girl's knees to sweep her feet out from under her. He caught her with his other hand across her bare back, picking her up to carry her as a knight might carry a princess. No princess would permit herself to be carried naked, though, and few knights would have the perverted thoughts that were running through Luke's mind as he looked down at her childish body.
Gently, Luke carried his new toy over to her bed and set her down so that she was laying on top of the covers. He spread her out, moving her limp limbs around so that she would be comfortable. She was staring up vaguely at the ceiling, unconcerned by his attention. Luke brushed her bangs away from her eyes before standing up straight again. He reached across his chest with his right arm, under the nightcloak, so that he could reach the fastenings of the umbrella strapped to the left side of his back.
With practiced twitches of his fingers, Luke freed the Umbrella of Beginnings from its sheath. He held it firmly in his right hand and pulled it out from under the nightcloak. The umbrella was white as bone and looked no different from its twin, still strapped to the right side of Luke's back. Although the two umbrellas looked identical, there was no mistaking one for the other. While the umbrella Luke held warmed his hand, the Umbrella of Endings would have chilled his palm instead. With a flourish, Luke opened the plain umbrella. Like the outside, the underside was pure white; a canvas that was waiting for an artist.
Luke knelt down next to the bed, getting into a more comfortable position. He rested his arm on the mattress next to the girl and held the umbrella handle next to her ear. Held so close, the underside of the Umbrella of Beginnings filled the girl's vision as she stared up at it, her eyes as empty as the white cloth. With some difficulty, Luke dragged his eyes away from the child's wonderful flesh and angled his head to look up at the umbrella as well.
“Who were you chatting with on your computer?” Luke asked. Although he kept his eyes trained upward, his words were for the girl.
“Maci,” the girl mumbled, the syllables falling from her mouth more as a sigh than a statement. She continued to gaze upward, limp on the bed. Almost imperceptibly, colors began to bleed into the white underside of the umbrella. They shifted and blurred, as slow as the girl's thoughts, until they resolved themselves into a very blurry semblance of a girl.
“Focus on her,” Luke said patiently. “Remember her for me.”
The girl said nothing but continued to stare up, slack-jawed, at the vague image above her. It took almost a minute for the colors to stop moving this time. When they did, however, there was a crisp image of a petite blonde girl, as clear as any photograph. The girl's hair was in braids and she was wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans. She also had straps from a backpack climbing over her shoulders and tucking away around her ribs. Luke supposed that the girl might be remembering Maci from school earlier that day.
Luke bent his will toward the image hovering above them. Then he twirled the handle of the umbrella in his hand, spinning it so that the image above became a whirl of indiscernible color. Slowly, he tightened his grip on the handle, bringing the umbrella to a controlled stop. The same girl stared down at them from the umbrella, her hair was still done up in braids, but all of her clothes were gone. Tiny nipples stood on her budding chest and a pale tuft of hair crowned her otherwise bald pussy. Now that he had stacked the deck, Luke addressed the child on the bed again.
“What is Maci wearing?” he asked softly.
“Nothing,” the girl answered in another sigh. Her tone betrayed no surprise at seeing her friend naked. This waking dream was rather like a natural dream in that it would not occur to her to question abnormalities that entered her reality.
“That's exciting,” Luke prompted the mesmerized child. “It excites you to see Maci naked like this. You want to touch yourself. Start playing with that tingling spot between your legs.”
The girl obediently raised her hands from her sides and slipped them between her thighs, rubbing her fingers against the lips of her pussy and massaging the tiny button within her folds. Luke was glad that she had at least an inkling of what she needed to do to pleasure herself. It could be entertaining to coax the younger ones through their first orgasms but it often tested Luke's patience because their minds moved at the speed of molasses.
Luke held the umbrella in place for the girl to gape up at her naked friend. He watched her in silence as she worked her slim body into an aroused state. After a minute she began to shiver and her pussy lips tinged red with excitement. On a typical night, now that Luke had a horny little doll to play with, he would insert himself into her fantasy, do the deed, and remove her memories with the Umbrella of Endings. But an idea was taking shape in Luke's mind as he looked down at the trembling nymphet. He flexed his mind against the umbrella in his hand once more and began to twirl it.
“Who is with Maci?” Luke asked, stilling the umbrella so that the girl could see the new image.
“Me,” the girl breathed out in a moan. Luke was pleased to see that she had not stopped masturbating when the image changed.
“What are you doing with Maci?” Luke asked, glancing up at the image to make sure it matched the vision he had instilled in the umbrella.
“Kissing,” whimpered the girl, arching her hips as she continued to pleasure herself.
Technically she was right. The image of her on the underside of the umbrella was definitely kissing the image of her friend. Of course she could have elaborated further. Both girls were naked and apparently lying on the ground, although there was no background to the image. They were both naked and the image of the girl was climbing on top of the image of Maci. It was difficult to tell in the tangle of skinny limbs but it also looked as if the girl was grinding her narrow hips against her friend's.
“You like Maci. You love Maci,” Luke instructed. “You think about her all the time. You fantasize about having sex with her.”
“Uh-huh,” the girl said, although it may have just been a groan as she brought herself even closer to an orgasm. Her left leg kicked a little, involuntarily, as she struggled to keep her pleasure in check. Luke gave the umbrella a mental nudge and spun it one last time.
“Who is that with you and Maci?” Luke asked. The image of the writhing young girls was unchanged but now a man was crouching over their entwined bodies and apparently thrusting his cock into the girl as she kissed Maci. The man's face was turned away from the obscene pile of bodies. It was Luke's face. It stared out of the umbrella down at the masturbating girl on the bed, who stared back blankly.
“A...man...” the girl said, between ragged breaths. She continued to play with herself as she watched her likeness being impaled on Luke's cock.
“A man,” Luke agreed. “A man that you've always wanted to have sex with. It's me. You've always wanted to have sex with me. You've always wanted to lose your virginity to me. With Maci. You love the idea of losing your virginity alongside her. So you two could be closer, better friends.”
The girl was rubbing herself so hard that Luke thought she might be in danger of getting a friction burn. In any case, that completed the fantasy that he wanted to set up. Luke wet his lips and gave the shaking girl all of his attention. “Imagine... the three of us having sex together... and... cum!”
The little girl gave a strangled cry and dug her knuckles into the soft flesh of her nether lips. Her lower body gave several jerks and finally she thrust her hips upward, raising her bubble butt completely off of her mattress. After that initial thrust, she collapsed back to the bed, moaning hoarsely as she continued to grind her hands against her pussy. She was shaking all over and rolled onto her side as if she could contain the onslaught of ecstasy by rolling into a ball. Her small chest heaved in large breaths as she lost all control.
Luke waited until the girl had overcome most of her orgasm. She was laying limply on her side, still panting, and staring sightlessly at the subtly shifting colors of Luke's nightcloak. With firm pressure on her bare shoulder, Luke pushed the unresisting girl so that she was once again lying on her back on the bed. After a moment, Luke stood up, collapsed the Umbrella of Beginnings, and fastened it into the holster on his left side. Drawing the nightcloak back around him, Luke sat down lightly on the bed by the girl's feet.
With deliberate casualness, Luke pushed the girl's left foot until it fell over the side of the bed and her leg hung at an awkward angle over the edge of the mattress. With her legs spread apart now, the delicate lips of her pussy peeled open a little. Her little clit was still poking up from her folds, as if wondering whether it might still be needed. Luke dipped a finger between the girl's legs and swirled it around over her soft skin, collecting the nectar from her pussy. She had worked so hard to produce the fluid; it seemed a shame to let it go to waste.
Luke brought his finger to his mouth and sucked it clean. Sweet and delicious. He repeated the process, trying to gather more of the scarce juices. He ignored her shivers as his finger tickled her and she reflexively flinched against the sensation. All too soon, he had finished the meager serving. It really was a shame that sandmagic could not do useful things like helping a little girl produce more fluids. Luke stood up from the bed and wiped his finger clean on his nightcloak.
Luke stepped over to stand by the girl's head and leaned over her. She stared back at him with blank eyes, though they were not as heavily-lidded as before. That was only to be expected. On the list of things exciting enough to wake someone up from a trance, an orgasm was certainly near the top. If anything, it was surprising that she had not fully awoken, since he had only tossed a tiny amount of sand into her eyes.
With a practiced hand, Luke reached into his sandbag and withdrew a new pinch of sand. He held it above the girl's face and rubbed his fingers together, letting the dust slowly fall into her unfocused eyes. He breathed magic into the mix and within moments the girl's eyes had almost completely closed. Luke reached down and flicked the girl's left nipple. It puckered in seconds but the girl did not even blink when Luke's nail had scraped across her skin. Satisfied, Luke gave her his parting instructions.
“Everything I've told you tonight is a part of you,” Luke said to the entranced girl. “Always a part of you but deep. Very deep. Always there but never spoken. Until the next time you have a sleepover with Maci. When the two of you are alone. Then your fantasy can come true. So you want to have a sleepover with her. As soon as you can. You want to invite her over. And you want to invite me over.”
Luke gave the girl his phone number, saying it three times and making her repeat it back to him. With the sandtrance, she would have no problem remembering the random string of numbers. The next time Maci was sleeping over at her house, she would call Luke, and Luke would come. It gave him something to look forward to. He had decided that was something that had been missing in his life, since he had the power to take virtually any girl that caught his eye. A bit of a wait before taking this one would whet his appetite, and his reward would be a second girl to enjoy at the same time.
When he was confident that she had understood, Luke turned away from the girl and walked out of her room. If she had been more alert, then in about an hour she would have woken up from the sandtrance on her own. With the extra dose he had given her, though, she was closer to sleep. She would probably slip into a natural sleep and continue to sleep, naked, until she woke up normally in the morning. But Luke would not concern himself with her anymore tonight. Right now he needed to make another stop in the kitchen, to make sure that her parents would be enthusiastic when their daughter asked permission to have a sleepover.
