Dreams
- 2 years ago
- 50
- 0
Dreams free porn video
Dreams
By J. John Seaver
"I'm lying on my back in an empty room. There aren't any
doors or windows, and the ceiling is so high up that I
can't see it. All of the walls and floor are white, and
it's bright enough to see, but the light doesn't seem to be
coming from anywhere. I can't see where the floor ends and
the walls begin.
"I realize that I'm naked, but it doesn't bother me. I'm
kind of seeing everything from outside my body, but that
doesn't bother me either. I look down and see that it's me
before I... before I got sick. At first, I think I'm alone,
but then I see that there's a woman there with me. She's
naked too, and she's unbelievable, with big, firm tits,
long blonde hair, and a perfect ass. I can't quite make out
her face, but I know it's beautiful.
"I get a hard-on just looking at her, and she seems to like
that, because she grabs hold of my unit and slides it
inside her. I sit up, and suddenly there's another girl
behind me, pushing her tits into my back, running her hands
through my chest hair, and biting on my ear. Then another
one crawls up, grabs my face, and sticks her tongue in my
mouth.
"Soon there's more and more of them, making their way in
from the sides, or dropping from holes in the walls that I
can't see, all crawling all over me and each other. It's
like the snake pit in Raiders Of The Lost Ark, only with
naked women, and they're all gorgeous.
"I'm enjoying it, but then I realize that I can't see
myself any more. Somehow, the part of me that's watching
from outside is able to push the girls aside, but they're
piled up something like thirty feet high, and I can't find
myself in the pile. I'm starting to panic, and that's when
I hear a door open.
"A man walks through the door. He looks like me, but I just
know he isn't. Everything stops. He looks at all the women,
and licks his lips, and all the women smile, and I know I'm
in that pile somewhere, smiling..."
--Patient #14, Derek Adelman, 31, a construction worker
from South Boston.
(Midway between Government Center and Haymarket, the subway
car stopped. This wasn't totally unusual; MBTA cars often
paused between stations, waiting for the car at the next
stop to reload and unload. What was unusual was the smoke
that suddenly started pouring from the woman's backpack...)
"I wake up in this bed, just as I am. The room is silent;
not even the monitors are making any noise. The TV is on,
but there's just static, without any sound.
"I press the button to call for the nurse, but nobody
answers. I know I'm not supposed to, but I get up and walk
to the door. There are people in the hallway, but there's
still no sound. It doesn't occur to me to try and speak
myself, though.
"I start walking, hoping to find the cafeteria - even in my
dreams, it seems I'm always hungry now - when I hear some
sort of noise. I'm not sure what it is yet.
"I must walk through miles of hallways, but I never touch
anybody, or vice versa. No matter which way I go, the sound
always seems to be getting closer, but it still always
feels like I've got further to go. I pass people I
recognize, but no one ever seems to take any notice of me.
"As I get closer to the sound, there are fewer people. The
hallways are almost empty when I finally reach the end,
where there are no more branches, just a door. I can't read
what's on the door, but the sound is on the other side, so
I open it.
"The room is filled with newborn babies, and the sound I
heard was one of them crying. I work my way across the room
until I find which one was making the noise.
"Somehow, I immediately know that this is my baby, not like
my sons were my babies, but a baby I will give birth to. I
pick her up, and as I do, she stops crying, and starts
making these little gurgling noises. I sense she's hungry,
and I unbutton my robe so that I can feed her, but I don't
really have breasts yet, so she starts crying again, and I
start crying too, and I tell her it's okay, that mommy
won't let her down."
--Patient #8, Richard Hastings, 38, a lawyer from
Somerville
(The smoke thins out, becoming a peppermint-scented mist as
it expands to fill the car. The mist is a powerful
tranquilizer, and most of the car's passengers along with
its driver are soon unconscious. Nose plugs already in, the
women wait for the smoke to dissipate, then open the
backpacks' other compartments...)
"I wake up, but I don't remember anything that has happened
to me. I feel a little woozy, but I just assume that I had
too much to drink at the party last night. I try to go back
to sleep, but it's not happening
"I turn on the computer to check my email, but none of the
words are clear. I think that I must be really hung over,
so I throw on a robe and head down to the kitchen to see if
there's any coffee on. Everybody in the house is looking at
me real funny, but they don't say anything.
"There's a some coffee in the pot, but the cup I pour
doesn't have any taste. I dump it out and put a new pot on,
then decide to go take a shower while I wait for it to
finish.
"Everyone's still looking at me funny. I stop by my room to
grab the shower stuff - soap, shampoo, towel - and then
head to the bathroom. I get the sense that people are
following me, but don't do anything about it.
"I don't notice anything unusual while I'm in the shower;
my body seems to be just as I remember it. I sort of rush
through it, because someone's banging on the door. I tell
them to hold their horses, wrap the towel around my waist,
and sort of grumble about how there are two other bathrooms
in the house and they can't all be occupied. The pounding
gets louder and I yell again, that I'll be done in a
minute.
"Suddenly the door flies open, and five or six guys come
through. They push me up against the sink, and then one of
them tears the towel off, and throws it up in the air. As
it falls down, it hits the medicine cabinet, and sort of
wipes it off because it had gotten all fogged up. Two of
the guys are holding me down, but I look up into the
mirror, to try and see who's behind me.
"But I'm not in the mirror. Instead, where I should be,
there's this girl - you know, the one who claims she was
raped at a party in my house a year ago. Now, you've gotta
understand, I wasn't there, and I'm yelling that they're
making a mistake, but they cover my mouth and I hear
someone unzipping their fly, and then they grab my legs and
spread them and that's when I wake up screaming."
--Patient #21, Kyle Alsopp, 19, student at Boston
University
(The women worked quickly and efficiently. Starting at the
front of the car, each taking a side, they worked their way
toward the back. They ignored the unconscious women, as
well as children and any men who looked to be over 45. With
methodical precision borne of experience, they rolled up
sleeves, inserted catheters, injected various solutions,
and moved on to the next man.)
"I'm floating in some kind of pink liquid, but I'm not
having any trouble breathing. Of course, I may not be
breathing, but anyway, I find that I can move around, sort
of swimming.
"The landscape is incredible; I'm in a sort of cave,
traveling through an underground river. The cave is made up
of large boulders, but they looks somehow soft. A group of
red platters floats by, shepherding air bubbles past, and I
realize that I'm not in a cave, but inside my own
bloodstream, and that the boulders are cells, and the
fissures between them are capillaries.
"As I'm watching, some new fish swim through. They're not
really fish, and don't really look like them, but that's
how they move in my dream. They're traveling in schools,
synchronized together. And there are so many different
varieties! I remember the doctors saying that they probably
wouldn't ever be able to reverse what had happened to me,
because they'd found at least twenty-seven different types
of retroviri, artificial hormones, bacteria, and even crude
nano-devices in my bloodstream. There seems to be that many
and more!
"I know that I should be trying to stop them, but it's so
fascinating to watch. One group, clearly some sort of
retrovirus, stops at every cell, drills in, and sends one
of its number through the hole. I stick my head through
just as it's closing up and watch in fascination as the
virus homes in a chromosome pair, pulls it apart, shreds
the Y-chromosome and then carefully pulls an X out of
itself, carefully wraps it around the unpaired chromosome,
and quietly dies.
"I follow another school which doesn't stop until it
arrives at its destination. They find what they are looking
for, so tiny and vestigial that I would have swam right
past it, and attach themselves. Nothing happens for a
while, and then the little cell divides. And then the two
cells divide again. And again. And on until I look down and
see my chest starting to swell.
"I could have stayed to watch, but I felt a tug in my groin
and headed off to see what was happening down there. It was
incredible - several different kinds of these things,
working together, re-arranging my body like they were
remodeling a house.
"There was a horrible beauty to it. I can't help but admire
the sheer ingenuity that went into creating these beasties,
the incredible complexity of their tasks, and how they're
going about it without interfering with each other. But at
the same time, I'm angry - they're doing it to my body,
without my permission, and once they're done, I can't
imagine what would happen to me if I should ever go home
again. Facing my father alone..."
--Patient #3, Yousef Mohammed, 25, graduate student at MIT
(They had nearly reached the end when alarms started coming
off. Attempts had been made to communicate with the car by
radio, and they ignored them. By then, there were two or
three other cars pulled up behind, but not getting too
close - one of the women had stepped outside and placed a
smoke bomb underneath the car. When the other cars started
pulling back, and a voice on the intercom spoke of sending
a repair/rescue vehicle, they calmly replaced their
belongings, went into the cab to pull the "medical
emergency - send help" lever, and made their way into the
tunnels, disappearing without a trace.)
"It's just a month ago; my wife and I are making love. The
twins are off to their grandmother's house, and the lights
are dimmed. The whole world just seems to consist of me,
and Janelle, and the bed. We're as calm and carefree as
we've ever been since the children were born, and Janelle
looks like an angel.
"Then, time seems to jump, and it's a month from now. I've
finished changing, and we're in the bed again, only we're
both wearing silk nighties. I put my arms around Janelle,
and tell her that no matter what happens, I still love her,
and she says she still loves me. I kiss her, but we pull
our bodies together, I find myself paralyzed, unable to do
anything. She says it happens to everyone sometimes, but I
realize that it's worse that that, because it's not just
that I'm not responding, but because I don't have any idea
how.
"Then time shifts again, and it's afternoon. I'm at the day
care center to pick the twins up, and nobody there will
meet my eyes. When I walk into the room, the twins start
screaming. 'You're not daddy!', 'Don't let her take us!',
'We want our daddy!' All that. I don't know what to do; if
I try to get closer, they just get more scared, but how can
I move away?
"Before I can decide, the world jumps again, and I'm back
in the T, driving a different train. I can't remember what
sex I am in this part of the dream, but when I look in the
mirror, the one that lets me see what's going on in the
car, I see Janelle. I sort of wonder why she didn't say
hello, but then I see that there's this guy with her, a
real Denzel-looking sunofabitch, and they're flirting and
laughing.
"Then Janelle and I are in a lawyer's office, signing some
sort of papers. I think we're getting divorced.
"And then I'm at a funeral. I must be a woman now, because
I'm having trouble walking in my heels, as I head toward
the front of the crowd to offer my condolences. When I get
to the front, I see Janelle standing by the grave, with
little Tisha and Lawrence on either side of her. I look
down, and I can somehow see through the top of the casket,
and it's me in there, the real me, not the half-and-half
monster I am now or the woman that the doctors say I'll
become. I try to say I'm sorry to Janelle, but she only
meets my eyes for a second, with a look of hate so strong
that... I mean, she hated me! She seemed to think it was my
fault!
"But it's just a dream, right, doc? None of that's actually
going to happen?"
--Patient #1, Mike Carter, 29, subway car driver from
Jamaica Plain
(All Green Line cars north of Park Street were stopped as
rescue workers went underground to see what was happening.
It was sort of anticlimactic when they found a letter
pasted to the door, stating in bland terms that the
catheterized men would soon be needing a great deal of
intravenous fluids and nutrients, since the transformative
agents that they had been injected with required a great
deal of energy, and that everyone in the car would be
waking up in approximately four hours. After checking the
car for any other hidden devices, they gave the okay for
the car to be brought to the station nearest the Harvard
Research Hospital.)
"I feel like I should be describing a nightmare. Instead,
though, I'm looking in the mirror at a beautiful woman,
getting ready to make the scene.
"Whatever's changing me has finished, eating away most of
my flab, except for my breasts, but those aren't really
flab, are they? My hair is long and silky-smooth, and I can
barely see the old me in my face. My teeth are straight,
I've got dimples, and my skin is clear. I've got long, sexy
legs, a perfect figure, and what little make-up I use makes
me look incredible.
"I don't know how I can afford the outfit a wriggle into,
but I do. Stunning, just stunning! I pucker up and put a
lipstick kiss on the mirror. It shimmers, and the old me
appears there. 'It's a lie,' he says, 'you may fool
everybody else, but you can't fool me.'
"I ignore him. Why not? Everyone else always did.
"I walk out the door and the lobby of my apartment building
is filled with people. Photographers, using so many
flashbulbs it's a wonder I can see at all. Reporters, from
national television to my old student newspaper. They want
to know what it's like being the world's most beautiful
woman, whether it's true that I've signed a contract with
Revlon, and could I confirm or deny that Ryan Philippe is
leaving Reese Witherspoon for me? Men are yelling marriage
proposals. Designers are trying to give me clothes, since
anything I wear is sure to be a smash hit.
"When I get to the club, the bouncer slips me a hundred
before waving me in. The music actually stops when I enter,
and then starts up again, and I shake my thing while men
buy me drinks. Some women try to buy me drinks, too, but
I've done that scene and no thanks. I'm not a freak any
more, and even though they say they know just what a girl
likes, I'm not buying.
"I'm having so much fun. It's so much better than trying to
convince yourself that ten percent of the population's gay,
and that you've got options. Fat chance, if you'll pardon
the pun.
"It's not long before I run into Todd. Rugged, handsome
Todd Delaney. God, I had such a crush on him in high
school. He's all apologetic about the times he beat me up,
but I tell him it's all in the past, that it was a million
years and two hundred pounds ago.
"We dance all night, and on the ride to his house, he tells
me how stupid he was, that none of the bitches he went out
with could ever talk about sports or cars worth a damn, and
they always wanted to see some lame romantic comedy when
they went out to rent a movie, but now we could have the
best of both worlds, if I could forgive him.
"The sex is fantastic! He's an animal, and my only regret
after he's through is that I can't return the favor, and
let him know what it's like to be filled like that. I
really want to do that.
"But that'll pass, right? I hope so. I never wanted to be a
woman, but now I can't wait until all my guy parts are
gone, so that I can just be normal."
--Patient #17, Richard Irvine, 25, a computer programmer
from Cambridge
(None of the victims initially believe what the police tell
them. They do become concerned when their appetites
increase fivefold, but they find themselves losing weight
no matter how much they eat. They get scared when their
body hair begins falling out. And when the other, more
noticeable physiological changes start, panic begins.
Afraid to sedate the patients for fear of a reaction with
what's in their systems, the hospital does the best it can
by making sure that they have round-the-clock psychiatric
help available.)
"It seems like just another day. I'm in my bedroom, getting
dressed for work. I'm not normally so meticulous, but it's
my first day back from my trip and I feel I should put my
best foot forward. I'm straightening my tie when I hear the
kids in the kitchen, fighting over some toy, I imagine.
"I walk through the door intending to scold them, but as
soon as I do, I find that I've changed. My body has
changed, and I'm wearing an apron, and the kids are
screaming and pointing at the stove. I wonder where my wife
is, since I really don't have time for this, but there
seems to be some water boiling over so I try and handle it.
I scald myself when my youngest shrieks, and rush to the
bathroom to put some lotion on my leg.
"But when I open the door, I find it opens into my office,
and I'm myself again. Soon, my receptionist calls to remind
me of a meeting in the boardroom.
"The door out of my office seems to connect directly the
meeting room, but that doesn't seem strange. I don't notice
anything strange until I notice that nobody really seems to
be listening when I speak, and I think I even seem some of
the other men at the meeting whispering something about me.
That's when I notice that I've changed again. I endure the
rest of the meeting and hope that I retain some dignity
when I exit.
"The door opens into the reception area, but instead of
continuing through to my office, I take the seat behind the
receptionist's desk. I think I'm myself again, but now I'm
not sure.
"The work is menial, simple... What's the word? Boring. The
person in the office behind me seems to be inconstant
somehow, different every time I talk to him. Sometimes as
he passes me on the way to and from meetings, he ignores
me; other times he's patronizing, and once I think he even
leers at me while talking to another man.
"When the end of the day comes, I'm only too happy to
leave. Again, the office door seems to lead directly into a
subway car. It's crowded, as always, but it suddenly seems
unsafe. Not just because of my ordeal here, but because
there are so many people touching me. I don't like it, and
I try to push my way out, but I'm too small and weak, and
it takes me until the next station.
"As I fall out the door, I find myself pushing a carriage
in a supermarket. Again, I'm not sure what sex I am at this
point. All the women there are giving me strange looks, as
if I don't belong. Maybe that means I'm like I am now, but
I have this intense feeling of not belonging. Soon, it
becomes overpowering, and I abandon my cart and run for the
door...
"Then I'm in a bar, with my friends from work, but it all
seems wrong somehow. I stare very hard at my hand holding
my beer, but it seems to change every time I blink or look
away. I feel sick, and take my leave.
"Finally, I arrive home. I'm certain that right now I'm a
woman, and I feel that I should do something, but my wife
has already done the chores for the night - fixing dinner,
putting the kids to bed, and folding the laundry. She's
asleep as I join her in the bed.
"I don't remember falling asleep or waking up, but I
eventually recognize that I'm not at home, but in this
hospital. Eventually, I called you. Maybe you can tell me
what it means, or at least help me with the questions that
kept me awake within my dream - who am I now? And what is
my place in the world?"
--Patient #19, Ishii Kitaro, 34, of Tokyo, Japan (in Boston
on business), via a translator
Gert
- 21.08.2022
- 30
- 0
