My first sexual fantasy came to me in a dream. A dream that I had every night for weeks, and then sporadically for months on end. And it was –perhaps unsurprisingly– quite fucked-up.
I don’t know exactly where my child-brain got the raw material for the dream. My babysitter hadn’t yet given me a guided tour of the female reproductive system, but I did have a neighbor girl who kept trying to expose herself to me… that could have had something to do with it. More likely, it was the result of my parents’ questionable decision to let me watch both Logan’s Run and The Stepford Wives.
Either way, every night, they’d come to my room… the sacrifices, I mean.
You see, something had gone catastrophically wrong out in the world. I didn’t understand everything –I was just a boy, after all, so they hid the details– but it seemed that someone, somewhere, released something terrible into the wild. An exotic contagion had worked its way through the adult male population, ultimately rendering it sterile. Humanity lived on in anxious misery, knowing that the only thing standing between it and extinction was a single generation of boys who were still convinced girls had cooties.
The only solution? Brave young lads such as myself would have to dedicate our lives to looking beyond the cooties, toward our genetic destinies; with our world crying out for help, we couldn’t afford to falter. It was decided that the ruined, wasted men of the world would send their wives and daughters to boys like me, to be used as training material… as fodder for a fire to be lit in the empty hearth of womankind. The program was voluntary at first, but after burnout proved to be an issue, lottery conscription inevitably began.
So the sacrifices came to us, one, two, or a few at a time; some dedicated (or at least resigned) to serving a Greater Good, and some longing for a choice they couldn’t have. They were assigned to our homes for short tenures, but through their vital, compulsory work, the reproductively mature men of tomorrow would prove to be the finest force of fast-fathering fuckers to ever bestride one godforsaken planet!
Of course, I was a kid, so the backstory was the most interesting part of the dream. The action consisted entirely of women in fur coats and heels filing into my room, approaching me, dropping their coats to reveal bikinis, and then… well, the rest was a bit of a mystery. There was some light petting, stuff happened, and I woke up. Again and again, night after night.
Sometimes the sacrifices were happy and enthusiastic about doing their duty; sometimes they were sad, and I had to comfort them while they taught me to use their bodies. Sometimes I would fall in love with the latest girl and want to keep her; sometimes she would disappoint me and I would have her sent away. The only constant seemed to be a baseline understanding that my sexuality was all-important and must be served at any cost.
Which, honestly, is a crazy idea to have in your head when you’re six.