Archive-name: Dreams/dremmach.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Dream Machine





Chapter 1:  Contracting One's Horizons



His fingers shook as he unwrapped the package.  Finally!  His own dueling

machine!



Actually, he thought as he skimmed the instruction manual, "dueling

machine" was a misnomer.  Unlike Bova's conception, the Q-100 model did not

allow two people to share a dream.  It simply allowed one person to

_control_ a dream.



An extended fantasy, as subjectively real as the chair he was sitting in,

the manual proclaimed.  And as dangerous as wireheading, he thought, which

is why the government required a cutoff switch on every unit.  The machine

would monitor his blood pressure and heart rate, easing him out of the

dream if they approached dangerous levels.  The timer did the same, and it

could be set for six hours maximum.  Six hours of godhood, then back to the

real world.  He had read that bypassing the timer was possible, but he had

no desire to try.  The newsfeeds were full of stories of people who died of

thirst while experiencing non-stop fantasies.



The actual device didn't quite "blend right in with his home entertainment

center," as the ads had promised.  Still, it was fairly innocuous in

appearance.  A black metal box with an LCD display; cloth head-, arm- and

chestbands with velcro closures; tethered sunglasses; and a hand-held

remote control unit.  The box had a cartridge slot, but the company hadn't

released any pre-packaged fantasies yet.  There were dark rumors about bugs

in that technology and private company sanitarium.



Still, the manual was upbeat and straightforward.  He decided to give it a

try.  First, attach the sensors - no problem.  Power on, then set timer -

he'd give it fifteen minutes, for now.  Glasses on, seated comfortably;

press start...



The lenses lit up.  Smoky patterns twisted and twirled in front of his

eyes.  He started to feel sleepy, then drifted off in a matter of seconds.



He opened his eyes.  He was standing on a featureless grey plain that

receded into mist.  After a moment of disorientation, he remembered the

instructions.  "The initial environment was chosen to be as neutral as

possible.  Simply concentrate on your desires to give them reality."



"All right, let's give this a try.  Hmmm... I want.. a palace!  Yeah.  Like

a caliph!"  As he imagined them, the walls faded in around him.  Arabesque

designs, twisted pillars, marble statues; as soon as he thought of them,

they phased into being.  He sat, and a pillow materialized beneath him.  He

looked down at his daysuit.  "This won't do at all!"  Under his gaze, the

woven plastic transformed into loose-fitting silk, as gaudy as had covered

any caliph of old.  "MUCH better.  And now... the serving girls!"



He clapped his hands, and they came.  Veiled, clad in silk that revealed

more than it covered, they slid into reality by his side.  One moved to

massage his shoulders; another picked up a convenient bunch of grapes and

began to feed him.  Gentle breezes from the fan of a third caressed his

brow.



"Enough!" the lord commanded.  "Attend me, my harem!"



The servants vanished.  More pillows appeared on the floor.  Through the

far archway came his wives.  Sensing his need, they were naked save for

their veils.  Each girl's hair was a different shade, but all had the

bodies of goddesses.  As several danced for his pleasure, others dropped

their veils and approached him.  Dropping to their knees, three began to

caress the stiff member beneath the caliph's silken trousers (which, being

inconvenient, simply disappeared).



The redheaded one, always his favorite, brought her mouth down on his

throbbing manhood.  Through dint of daily practice, she could swallow him

all the way to the root, and did.



As her head bobbed merrily up and down, her tongue performing tricks known

only in the East, the blonde girl (very young, even for a harem) placed her

lips on the male sack beneath.  The third girl, a perfect platinum-blonde,

moved up to suck on her lord's nipples.  She knew just how hard to bite.



Even the cushions rearranged themselves for his pleasure, cupping his

buttocks like a giant hand.  He thrust upwards, jamming his organ fully

into the throat of his lovely wife.  This, combined with the suction on his

twin oranges of manhood, brought him to the brink.



"Drink me, my wife!" he commanded, and she hummed her reply.  The dancers

moved ever faster, twisting against each other in obscene rhythms...



Everything faded out.



"DAMMIT!!"  He was gazing through dark glasses at his living room, his

erection painfully tight in his plastine trousers.  The display on the

Q-100 blinked "00:00."



"This time I'm setting it for six hours," he muttered, reaching for the

fallen remote.  Hell, the manual _said_ he could manually exit the

dreamworld at any time...



 *******



Chapter 2:  The Royal Treatment, or To Di For



As an American tourist (circa 1993) in the newly-opened Buckingham Palace,

he wandered off from the group.  Turning a corridor, he heard voices raised

in an argument.



"Bloody hell, Di, you never listen!"



"Sod off, Charlie!  I don't have to put up with your.. oh!"



As he came to a doorway, he caught sight of the royal couple just as Diana

spotted him.  Charles muttered something about "bloody tourists" and moved

to close the door.  Diana stopped him.



"You've always had your way, Charlie, but no more!  I can do anything I

bloody well like now; anything!"  She grabbed the American's arm and pulled

him into the room.  "Shut the door, Charles."



The Prince started to argue, but was silenced by a glare from Diana.

Meekly, he closed the heavy wooden door.



"Just watch, Charlie!"  With that, Princess Di sank to her knees in front

of the tourist.  Deft fingers opened his Bermuda shorts, then tugged out

his penis.



"Now see here..." the Prince began, but Diana shouted him down.



"Quiet!"  Her tongue darted out, licking the head of this stranger's cock.

This regally dressed Princess sucked the end of the shaft past her glossy

lips, her manicured hands (utterly free of calluses) gently massaging the

man's testicles.



Watching his penis disappear into that famous face was incredibly exciting,

but he wanted more.  At his thought, Diana leaned back.



"Any whore can blow a man, Charlie.  It takes a _real_ slut to do this!"

Releasing his scrotum, Diana clapped her hands.  A maid (French, of

course) appeared immediately.



"Oui, madame?  Mon Dieu!"  Blushing furiously, the young girl turned away

from the scene of depravity.



"Come here, Marie," the Princess ordered.  Head still averted, the maid

gingerly approached.  "I want you to take this man's thing in your hand,

then jerk him off into my mouth."



"Mais non, madame!"  But a cold look from Diana quieted her protestation.

With an apologetic look at the Prince, the girl wrapped a tentative hand

around the American's throbbing penis.  Slowly, she began to stroke him.



Diana moved forward, taking just the head into her lovely mouth.  Her

tongue drew lazy circles on the crown.



The French girl soon started feeling the heat of the moment.  She began to

press her body against the man's back, rubbing her lace-covered breasts

against his Hawaiian shirt as her hand frigged his veined cock.  Her other

hand found its way to his balls, sliding them pleasantly against Diana's

perfect chin.



What a scene!  A fragile hand tugging relentlessly at his penis, milking

him into the mouth of a Princess!  And, ears reddening in the background,

her estranged husband, watching it all with jealous eyes.



When the young girl began to suck on his earlobe, that was too much for

him.  He started to come, sending throbbing bolts of stickiness into

Diana's waiting mouth.  As her hand moved frantically beneath her skirt,

she swallowed every dollop.



He saved the last one, though, pulling back to splatter all over her face

and hair.  That perfect coiffure looked so much better with droplets of

semen covering it, he thought.



Diana stood, turning to Charles.  "Now lick it off, Charlie, and I _might_

let you fuck me again.  Sometime."



Ears burning, the Prince complied.  Di's hand pressed tightly against her

sodden knickers; moments later, her body shook with the force of her orgasm.



The room faded out, to be replaced with...



 *******



Chapter 3:  Faculty Parking in the Rear



He walked up the steps to the large brick building.  The nameplate said

"Miss Eliot's School for Girls."  He knocked, and a woman answered.



"Ah.  Dr. Jones.  Do come in.  I'm Miss Eliot."  As she led the way down

the hall, he studied her.  Thin, nearly forty, but still attractive.  Black

hair pulled back in a bun, horn-rimmed glasses, tweed suit; just the right

look for a woman in her position.



They came to a door, with a room number stencilled on the frosted glass.

The voices of young girls could be heard through it, talking quietly.

Miss Eliot turned to him.  "I'm _so_ glad you could take time out of your

busy schedule to assist us, Dr. Jones.  To have an expert of your

caliber..."



He held up a hand to cut off her remarks, then motioned to the door.  "Let

us begin."  She nodded curtly, and preceded him into the room.



An even dozen young women, average age perhaps sixteen, were seated at

small wooden desks arranged neatly within the classroom.  All the girls

were dressed alike, in plaid skirts and white blouses.  They matched in

hair color as well; every one had jet-black tresses tied back with plaid

ribbons.  The girls quieted when Miss Eliot entered and approached the

lectern.  She addressed the class without fanfare.



"Now that the state mandates sexual education for private schools, we have

set up this class for that purpose.  We are very lucky to have with us

today Dr. Jones, author of several clinical studies in the field.  Dr.

Jones, the class is yours."  With that, she stepped aside and turned to

him.



He addressed her as he made his way to the podium.  "Could I ask you to

assist me today, Miss Eliot?  I find it's always best to have an

experienced administrator around on the first day."  She smiled slightly,

and nodded.



Placing his briefcase on a nearby table, he turned to the class.  "Good

morning, girls.  Let's not waste time on preliminaries, shall we?  For my

first lesson, I'll need a test subject.  Miss Eliot, is there one girl who

has misbehaved recently?"



The principal nodded, and moved behind a waiflike girl in the third row.

The girl blanched.  "No, Miss Eliot, please!  I..."



From somewhere, a riding crop  appeared in Miss Eliot's hand.  "QUIET!"  The crop snapped down, leaving a red welt across the student's lily-white hand.

The girl shrieked, then quieted, shivering.



"Come here, please."  He smiled at the girl, and she shyly smiled back

after a moment.  She stood up and approached the front of the classroom.



He caressed her cheek, getting another smile in return.  Moving a chair in

front of the audience, he told her to bend over and grasp it for support.

She obeyed without question.  Very good, he thought.  Miss Eliot trains

them well.



He lifted her short skirt above her hips, then flipped it over her back.

She wore nothing underneath.  "Excellent, Miss Eliot!  I appreciate a

proper dress code!"  The principal beamed.



"Since I'm sure you've all had the basics already, we'll start with a

slightly more advanced subject - anal sex."  The "test subject" trembled,

but held her position.  "The key," he said, reaching into his briefcase,

"is plenty of lubrication."  He withdrew a large tube of K-Y jelly.

Removing his trousers, he revealed a massive penis, already stiff.  He

began to coat the shaft with grease.  As he worked, he continued to lecture

to his rapt audience.  "Too much is better than too little."  Covering a

finger with lubricant, he pushed it up the backside of the girl.  She let

out a squeak, then suppressed any further outcry.  He worked another finger

into her tight bottom.



"I think we're ready."  He positioned himself behind the student and began

to rub the head of his penis between her buttocks.  Her tremors were

transmitted pleasantly to his member.



"Normally, I go quite slow when breaking in a new subject."  The girl

visibly relaxed, even with his penis pressing against her rosebud.  "I

think today, though..."  He rammed the entire length of his cock up her

rectum, encountering little resistance due to her lack of tension.  She

screamed at the invasion, her sphincter clamping tightly - too late!  "I'll

make an exception!"



He plowed into her once-virgin asshole, reaming her fully again and again.

The other girls looked on, enraptured; some began to drool, while others

slipped surreptitious hands beneath blouses and skirts.



A strand of Miss Eliot's hair had escaped its bun.  The principal's eyes

were glazed, then snapped back into focus.  She grabbed the girl nearest

her, pulling the student out of her chair, then shoving the girl's face

under the older woman's skirt.  The girl knew what to do; apparently the

administration followed the dress code, as well.



With that, the student body went wild.  Skirts flew back, revealing a

myriad of dark triangles and ruby lips.  Blouses opened, and firm breasts

(unhindered by bras) slid into view.  Manicured fingers plucked, teased,

pulled - sometimes on their bodies, sometimes on those of others.  Girls

(those that could tear their eyes away from his pistoning shaft) kissed

their neighbors deeply, young tongues moving wetly against one another.

One daring girl mimicked Miss Eliot's pet, sliding between the legs of her

friend to lick and suck at an elusive clitoris.



The bright, attentive young woman in the front row never dropped her eyes,

though.  She was fixated on his penis as it journeyed deep within the

bowels of her squirming classmate.  In and out, plunging into that

vice-like tunnel, provoking gasps and cries from the innocent victim of his

lust.  Well, perhaps some of them were due to his hands on her now-freed

nipples, twisting viciously at the taut nubs of flesh.



His hips moved relentlessly, powerfully thrusting his great penis between

the perfect globes of her buttocks.  She was his completely; when his

scrotum bounced against her mons as his pubic hair ground against her anus,

he knew he couldn't get any deeper.  His right hand moved to her clitoris,

and her body began to respond.  When her head arched and she screamed with

the force of her orgasm, he couldn't hold back.



He pulled his greased organ out of her anus, then turned towards the

exceptional girl in the first row.  "Take it!" he cried.



She dropped to her knees instantly, sliding forward to engulf his great

length in her mouth.  (Fortunately for her, the school had a regimen of

daily enemas.)  His grease-slicked cock moved easily into her throat.  She

had obviously practiced this many times; perhaps with a janitor, perhaps

with her father.  It didn't matter; he had no control left.  Twisting his

fingers in her long black locks, he held her tight against his crotch as he

spurted into her mouth.  His orgasm seemed endless, yet she swallowed every

drop of his sperm, not even coming up to breathe.  When it was done, she

cleaned the grease from his softening shaft with her pale pink lips.  The

pressure squeezed a last drop of come from him, landing on her quivering

tongue like a candied treat.  Smiling beatifically, she looked up at him.



"Can I be your _next_ subject, Dr. Jones?"



 -BEEEEEEEEEP-



He awoke bathed in sweat.  His heart was pounding wildly, and a high-pitched

alarm emanated from the machine.  His face was flushed; he felt like he'd

just run a marathon.



In a minute or two, his heart rate went down and the noise shut off.  God,

his balls were _sore_!  He felt his crotch; it was soaked, and sticky.  His

penis was completely flaccid, and his emptied testicles were tight against

his groin.



After removing the contacts and snapping the machine off, he dragged

himself into the shower.  Then to bed; he'd figure out a safer way to use

the machine tomorrow.



Yeah, right.



 *******



(I'll refrain from saying "More to Come."  :)