Part 9: Wet Dreams

It was like drowning, immersion in a deep, warm sea. Yet the General was not struggling for breath. He did not want to escape from the soft, soothing grasp from any urgency to survive, but rather from a desire to emerge into a world of new, and exciting possibilities.

But swimming would not work; direct propulsion from kicking limbs would not send the General to the surface any faster. Rather, it was pleasure that would send him up... upwards. It went without saying that he felt more alive than ever before, acutely aware of his body... had he been losing weight? Must be; for his beer-gut had been replaced by smooth, toned flesh. A hand shot to the General's crotch. Was it his own hand, or that of another all was blurred, and uncertain.

What was undeniable were the shooting streams of raw pleasure coursing outwards from his crotch. As though... as though a nugget of electricity was embedded deep below, between the legs, forcing him into heights of ecstasy never dreamed possible. Higher... Higher... he felt himself moving upwards towards the light, with every caress, every teasing touch of physical enticement. The General knew he must rise higher... to fulfill the mission. But... what was the mission... ?

It was... a training exercise as part of a cooperative venture between the governments of the United States and Brazil... not exactly routine, but it had been an uneventful assignment... and then... then... something had happened; there were strange mechanical complication on the return flight... taken hours before the plane had been cleared for takeoff... and then... then something incredible had happened. It was difficult to remember. The General recalled a burning surge of desire, passion and fury that was beyond reason or logic.

The last thing the General could remember was a fiery urge to wallow naked outdoors while procreating, mating with an endless parade of women who were too gorgeous to be real. As he rose upwards on a rising tide of carnal bliss he almost gasped with the remembered drive towards copulation, his career did not matter, National Security did not matter. The weighty international issues and global threats he had grappled with for decades seemed... trite. All that mattered was sexual release and the fertilization of new life. It had happened, he knew. The General felt alive, fertile, in a way that he had never experienced and did not make sense to the rational mind.

But the concern that normally would have caused the General to stop and examine the situation was gone; replaced now not by a mandate to defend, serve, and protect, but by a gratification over successful fertilization, coupled with a burning mandate to breed with others, and then others.

The chest was the first spot on the General's body where the pleasure exploded into an awesome jolt that commanded his attention. It was more than just the pleasure of a gentle, erotic touch; it was as though something was... emerging... bursting forth... and then, the pressure, the bliss, the tingling fire throbbed between the General's legs, and he felt freer, lighter, liberated and energized as he rose up through a warm, watery limbo of altered consciousness.

He did not yet understand the first set of images, those images where he had somehow merged with those animals, from past and present, becoming different creatures, different people. Reptiles, birds, extinct, ancient life-forms from the sea... he'd been them all... he'd also lived life through the eyes of a jaded, New York prostitute on her back with an aroused client raging inside her wet slit. That image, especially seemed crucial and noteworthy for reasons that would be clear in moments.