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Dream Rider (mm,scifi)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Dream Rider
Hitching across the country was something I never thought I'd be doing,
but there I was. I was just running around the country, seeing the sights,
checking out the nightlife in some of the cities along the way. It had taken
me a few years to squirrel away enough money to handle this trip comfortably.
With half of the first of four planned weeks already over, I was right on
schedule and already leaving Vancouver, my first stop. I would then weave my
way across the country to the east coast before heading back home again.
It was at about this point that my trip seemed to take on an air of
surreality; temporarily, at least. I couldn't tell if it was an idle daydream
or a hallucination or what, but I couldn't imagine how it could have actually
happened. Personal speculation notwithstanding, the entire experience and all
the circumstantial evidence involved therein made it seem so utterly, vividly
real.
I was hitching the Coquihalla Highway up to Kamloops to connect with the
Trans-Canada Highway. I'd managed to catch a ride to Hope and had been
dropped off there. It was midmorning, and in spite of it being summer
holidays there was very little traffic. The odd car whizzed by, but none
showed any sign of stopping. I continued walking along the highway.
Moments later something prompted me to turn and look back again. I could
see a car coming, but it seemed like it was moving at an incredible speed. I
stuck out my thumb anyways.
I started to notice something strange about the car. My eyesight was
quite keen, considerably more so than average. That also made my eyes more
sensitive, so it was sort of a trade-off in bright sunlight like today's.
Even shielding my eyes with my hand didn't help me. I couldn't quite see the
details; the only thing I'd managed to discern about the oncoming vehicle was
that it was jet black. My next impression about it was that it wasn't
touching the ground.
I chuckled to myself. Of course it had to be touching the ground. "Of
course it's touching the ground, goofball," I told myself out loud, more for
the sake of hearing my voice than for self-reassurance.
As the black vehicle hurtled closer, the illusion didn't dissipate,
persisting like an relentless mirage. It also looked something like a concept
car, almost like a highly rounded shape. From the speed it was moving, I
didn't think it could be anything but that. I diffidently dropped my arm as
it virtually flew closer, nervously thinking that someone was probably
conducting a speed test of some kind. Whoever it was looked like his car was
almost breaking the sound barrier.
It flew past me and seemed to turn, its shape too much of a blur for me
to see any detail. It spun around and went flying down the road backwards,
seeming to decelerate. It came back, slowly coming to a stop near me, turning
so its nose end was once more pointing in the direction the vehicle had
originally been heading in. It slowly settled from about a meter above the
ground to within about ten or twenty centimeters from the asphalt.
It was like no car I'd ever seen. I crouched down and looked underneath
it. There weren't even any wheels. It looked like a great black teardrop, its
front flattened slightly where I'd otherwise imagine a windshield should be
on a normal car. Its nose seemed to be slightly pointed, as though to make it
more streamlined. Its back end seemed to be flattened slightly, tapering to a
straight-edged "tail". The entire object seemed to be about the same size as
an average-sized car. I was still studying its underside, attempting to see
how the thing kept up in the air, when a voice sounded, "Need a ride?"
I looked up and just about fell backwards into the ditch. Steadying
myself in the grass, I noticed that the top half of the "teardrop" shape
wasn't there any more, leaving only what looked like a solid black windscreen
at the front. The source of the voice was a man who looked to be in his mid-
to late twenties, perhaps about my age or a little older. He looked tall and
had an odd atmosphere of strength about him, though he didn't look
particularly powerfully built. He had dark hair sweeping from one side of his
head to eye-level bangs as well as dark, shoulder-length hair in the back.
His eyes blazed bright blue and his clothes were of some sort of black
material that almost looked like leather but weren't quite the same. His
jacket, which was the only thing he was wearing above the waist, was opened
halfway down his fairly well-defined chest. His pants seemed just slightly
closer to his skin than the hair on his legs might have been, and his shoes
(or were they boots?) were indistinct from his pants at first glance. He was
sitting upright astride a sort of seat that extended along the entire length
of the vehicle, making it resemble a ski-doo in that respect. There was a
sort of shelf or footrest upon which one foot was planted, but the leg
nearest me was braced on the ground. "Need a ride?" he repeated his offer,
smiling quite congenially.
His repeated question startled me back into reality. Shock or no shock to
see such a sight, he was quite a bit more of a sight. Forcing myself back
slightly, I looked both ways to see if a vehicle was on its way. In the
distance from which he had blazed, I could see what looked like a more
normal-looking vehicle, perhaps a motorhome judging from the size and shape.
"Thanks," I replied nervously, "but I'm going to wait."
He laughed slightly to himself. "You're screwed if you wait here. The
chances of getting a ride to Kamloops on this highway are just slightly
greater than your being able to jump from here to the moon."
I didn't know if he was trying to make me relax or if he was having a
laugh at my expense. I forced a smile, remembering that someone had told me
the Coquihalla was a difficult highway to hitch a ride on. Then again, I
lived in the prairies, so what did I know about hitchhiking this highway.
"Oh, relax," he said, his voice seeming to calm me down. "Hop on," he
invited.
I did so cautiously, but not before placing a hand on the vehicle's outer
shell. It felt smooth, which wasn't surprising for a vehicle which needed
streamlining. It also felt very slippery without feeling at all wet. It felt
almost frictionless. The strangest thing about it was that it felt cool, in
spite of the fact that it had been moving very fast and should have had quite
a bit of air friction against it. "Strange construction," I remarked as I
settled on to the seat.
"Not really," he explained enigmatically. He had both his legs tucked up
into the vehicle and he was leaning forward. He had a nice shape to his torso
from behind. He turned his head and patted his right side, saying, "Tuck in
your legs, duck your head, and hold on."
My eyes went wide, suddenly a little nervous about what was going to
happen. I did as he told, holding on to his waist and crouching down against
his back as much as I could.
A short pause was followed by a soft beeping tone. "Slide forwards," he
said. "You're too far back. I can't initialize the overshield."
I was completely confused by his terminology, but I complied. After all,
I would be able to slide closer to his body. I did so gladly.
A moment later I heard an odd, short sound somewhere between a squealing
and a popping sound, and noticed that I was suddenly enclosed in black. It
surprised me and although I'm not really claustrophobic, I tended to have
claustrophobic-like reactions every now and then. I started to feel as though
I were suffocating.
"Relax," he assured me again, pressing a few buttons or controls in front
of him on what looked like a control console of some kind. The black
enclosing me started to fade into visibility from front to back, starting
like a grainy computer image and resolving into the scenic Coquihalla around
us. It was like looking through a lightly-tinted window. The inside of the
thing was quite roomy, just like an average car would be but narrower.
"What is this thing?" I asked.
"Concept vehicle," he replied simply, as he began pressing more buttons
or contacts on the control console.
"Why does it float above the ground? Antigravity?"
Beep beep-beep-beep. "Ever heard of hypercharge?"
"It sounds familiar."
"Fundamental force of the universe. Basically limited-range antigravity.
That's why I have to follow roads, or at least fairly level ground. With a
stronger power source I could go pretty much anywhere, but..." Beep-beep.
"What power source do you use?"
"An alternate form of fusion."
"I thought we didn't have that yet."
He half-turned his head to one side and smiled. "That's what some would
have the general public believe."
"Hm. How does it move?"
"You know how a maglev works?"
"Yeah. It propels itself along a rail of magnets of alternating polarity
by using a constantly shifting magnetic field."
He smiled back at me. "You know your stuff. But obviously, this doesn't
follow a rail. Instead, it uses the earth's magnetic field."
"What!? Where did you get this technology?"
Beep-beep. He looked back at me over his shoulder again, smiling wryly.
"Let's just say I'm a test driver. Anything else you should consider
classified." Beep-beep-beep.
"Then why are you letting me ride with you? What's to keep me from
blabbing about this?"
He looked back again, his face showing honest amusement and no hidden
hostility. "Who'd believe you?" he grinned.
I had to laugh. "Good point."
"Ready to go?"
"Sure."
"Where are you headed?"
"East Coast, eventually."
He chuckled slightly. "I can handle that."
Just then the vehicle lifted higher off the ground and started to move
forward. I could barely feel the acceleration at all, but well within half a
minute we were moving at an extremely high velocity, dipping and diving along
the road, following the curves and hills and dips with incredible ease.
"How does it do this?" I asked, almost breathless from the speed.
"It's all automated," he said. "It steers itself."
"How fast are we going?"
He looked at a display. "Five hundred kilometers an hour."
"And it won't crash?" I asked, a little anxious.
He chuckled again. "It's got reflexes that make human reflexes seem
immobile by comparison. It won't budge by even a centimeter either way from a
meter above the roadway, within reason. If not straying from a meter above
the road will give a bumpy ride, it allows for greater variance to elevation
above the road."
"Wow," I exclaimed. My curiosity somewhat satisfied with the vehicle, I
turned my attention to him. There was a sort of odd warmth radiating from all
over his body. I couldn't quite tell what it was; it seemed to be more than
just body heat could account for.
"It's because inside here is temperature-controlled," he said. "That's
why I seem warmer than normal."
My eyes went wide. How could he know what I was thinking, unless --
He looked back at me again, smiling more broadly than normal. "It is what
you suspect, you know," he said.
"But how --" I began.
"It doesn't matter," his voice assured me. Somehow he seemed to make
sense. He turned back to the controls.
I suddenly felt a pang of fear. If he really could sense my feelings or
thoughts or whatever, then he would know my original reactions to his
physical appearance. I tried to keep all trace of those thoughts out of my
mind.
It seemed to be working, until he began turning back to me. I noticed the
seat was melting away into a single, soft, flat, bed-like surface of some
kind. The console melted into a soft, featureless, reclining angle. He turned
over on his side and looked at me as I sat back as much as I could. "I could
sense your mind from several kilometers away," he said, his smile once more
concealing nothing more than amusement. "And you're not hiding your thoughts
now, you're blaring them out." His hand reached out and raked his fingernails
along my thigh, which made me gasp.
He reached up and touched a finger to my forehead and my body seemed to
tingle from head to foot. My perception of what I thought reality was seemed
to be wavering.
I was suddenly lying on the the flat, soft surface beside him, our arms
around each other, our mouths pressed together in passion. I didn't remember
getting from my kneeling position to here, but I didn't care. I seemed to be
watching details like that as a detached observer, while being wholly
involved in what was going on otherwise.
The scenery around us was a field of stars streaking past, looking oddly
like something out of Star Trek. I was being assaulted by new sensations, not
only to my body but to my other senses as well. I could almost see strange
things with my mind.
Now it was just the two of us, him on top of me, with nothing around but
stars and planets flying past. I could somehow read his thoughts, as I knew
he could read my thoughts. It wasn't so much thoughts as it was sensations,
emotions, feelings. I could sense and feel everything he was feeling, and I
knew he was also sharing my feelings and emotions as well as his physical
senses.
The vehicle was suddenly back around us, a grainy projection of the
planet's scenery flying past us again. My clothes were off and lying
somewhere, but he still had his on. I knew I was fully erect, yet I could
also feel restricted by clothing at the same time. I knew the restriction was
what he was feeling, especially with his skin-tight pants. The doubled effect
of two bodies full of hormones we were both feeling was immeasurably potent.
Our two bodies rubbed together, creating incredible levels of heat between
us. I could feel the restriction of his clothing easing slowly, though his
arms were still around me and our tongues still explored the other person's
mouth.
Suddenly he was also without clothing, our bodies pressing together in
indescribable heat, our entire selves entirely unrestricted. Our minds had
linked together, each body remaining a separate entity which the single
joined mind could direct the other body to pleasure. Rivers of tingling
eroticism ran down our bodies in raging floods, overloading our nerve
endings. Our pricks pressed against the other's body, driving the arousal
level even further as it was magnified by two entities combining into one.
Our minds giving each body the sensations of both bodies combined, the
next thing I knew he was sliding his hot body down around my shaft, just as I
was sliding my own body down around his. We stroked slowly in and out of each
other, not knowing who was really buried inside whom. In and out; in and out.
The rhythm was slow and gentle, as each of us strained and flexed our bodies
against the other in rising sexual energy levels. The sensations sent shivers
throughout our bodies, since as far as our nervous systems were concerned
each of us was not only fucking the other but were also getting fucked by the
other at the same time. The heat from just one of our bodies alone around the
other's rock-hard prick was more than enough to push the hormonal levels high
enough for climax, but when we reached the point we thought we should peak
at, our bodies just kept climbing higher. Hormonal levels between us
escalated until they were virtually a thick, palpable presence in the air
around us.
Time abruptly slowed, virtually to a standstill. It took what seemed like
hours to pass through what normally took perhaps five seconds. Ever so
slowly, as though in a running dream where our legs couldn't move, our bodies
began to breathe even harder, making furious attempts to keep air in our
lungs. From what I could sense he was riding my shaft slowly yet firmly while
keeping me pushed down on the bed-like surface, but I could also feel myself
in that position, holding him down while sliding my own body up and down
around his prick. Overloaded with pure sensation, our bodies began to let go
of our tenuous grasp on arousal. The hormones shot sky-high as it seemed our
bodies almost froze in total euphoria. At the last possible moment, when it
seemed we could go no higher, an incredible spike of sensation ripped through
us, a thousand times stronger than any previously remembered sensation. A
sharp, fire-like sensation seemed to bolt from shoulder to mid-chest. Two
sets of lungs began to force air through unwilling throats, emitting low,
guttural moans. We hovered at that incredible high for what seemed like an
eternity within eternities before rocketing straight down, falling and
falling as our bodies released our pent-up energies. A distant yet still
incredibly powerful physical sensation registered as our hot cum exploded
from our bodies into each other and onto each other, and we kept falling and
falling and falling, faster and faster for what seemed like countless
eternities. The fall deepened into blackness, and our minds finally seemed to
be separating our essences into individual entities as blackness consumed us,
totally and finally.
* * * *
I awoke in a hotel room, bolt upright, still fully clothed. The
disorientation lasted for about ten seconds, which was about ten seconds too
long for my liking. When my head cleared, I grabbed the remote and turned on
the TV. Evening news blared out. It took a few minutes for them to tell me
the date was still the same; I hadn't been in a coma or anything strange like
that. Yet a large chunk of a single day was unaccounted for in my personal
memory, and I was now in Toronto.
I didn't know how I got here; I didn't know how I'd checked in to the
hotel. The only memories I had from the previous few hours were from an
experience my mind insisted couldn't possibly have happened, just because it
was so fantastic and so surrealistic.
I scratched at my chest; something was making it itchy. I reached up
under my shirt and sweater and felt something scaling on my stomach, like
dead skin. I knew it was dried cum. Under my clothes? Odd.
"Must have been jerking off earlier," I told myself out loud, not
bothering to wonder why I didn't remember doing it. I strode into the
bathroom and pulled off my clothes, getting ready to jump into the shower
when something in the mirror caught my eye.
I looked; there it was, in plain sight. A cut, or more like a gash, from
my left shoulder to just below my left pectoral muscle, near the middle of my
chest. It wasn't scabbed over, but it wasn't bleeding either. It looked like
it had been made that day. Small enough for a fingernail to have made, were
the fingernail long enough. It was flanked by two light red lines, one on
either side of the gash, like claw marks. A half-remembered burning sensation
came back to mind, just briefly. My eyes went wide, my mind not sure whether
or not to believe what I saw. Had it really happened?
Just then I felt overcome by a wave of dizziness. I leaned back against
the wall and put my hand to my forehead. I started hearing strange sounds.
From the midst of the sounds came what may have been a half-remembered,
somewhat ghostly voice which seemed to whisper thin sounds to me. I couldn't
quite hear what it was saying. It almost seemed to be echoing, very quietly,
from within a gigantic hall. Then, just as soon as it had hit, the wave of
dizziness was gone, leaving me even more confused than before.
"Fuck," I breathed, "I must have hit my head on something. I should stay
here tonight."
I knew I wouldn't be sitting still that night; I couldn't possibly have
heard anything, but my curiosity was extraordinarily high. I had to go out.
Something was drawing me out, I knew not what.
* * * *
After my shower, I slipped into a fairly slim pair of jeans. I also
decided to put on a muscle shirt which would reveal the top of the scratch on
my shoulder. I don't know what possessed me to do that; it was just a strange
impulse. Once satisfied with my appearance, I slipped into a jean jacket and
decided to call a cab. When he arrived I asked him to take me to a gay bar;
any one would do. He wanted to know which one, so I asked him for a few
names. I picked one at random and we were on our way.
As I walked inside, it was like a typical bar: loud, somewhat crowded,
but surprisingly it wasn't very smoky at all. I wandered around for a bit,
checking out what was going on.
Something caught my attention, somehow without catching my eye. I turned
to see a very familiar figure standing not far away from me, wearing tight
black jeans, black leather jacket open to halfway down revealing a nicely
defined chest -- and what looked like the beginning of a scratch down his
left shoulder, disappearing under his jacket. His eyes were firmly on mine,
curiosity ablaze in their bright blue depths. We moved slowly to each other.
"Are you who I think you are?" I asked him when we met.
"I'm not sure," he replied tentatively. He looked at the scratch on my
chest. "I don't believe it," he said, shaking his head. "How'd you get that?"
I pulled the flap of his jacket aside, revealing more of a scratch. "I
think it might have been the same way you got that," I replied.
I placed the nail of my right-hand ring finger on the top of the scratch
on his left shoulder, noting that the end of my nail meshed with a sort of
notch dug into his skin. Matching my every move, as though it had been
carefully choreographed, he placed his right ring finger on my left shoulder,
noting that his nail fit at the top of the scratch.
"How is this possible?" he asked, his calm exterior surprisingly only
betraying slight nervousness.
I drew my finger back, scrutinizing it. I looked up at him and spread my
hands with a slight shrug of the shoulders.
He just shook his head, a disbelieving smile crossing his face. His smile
turned friendly as his eyes buried themselves deeply into mine once more.
I returned the look. "You ride a bike, don't you." It was more of a
statement, more of an accusation than a question. I knew what his answer was
even before he gave it.
He nodded. "You're hitching around the country." He echoed my tone,
knowing what my answer was in advance.
I just nodded. We stared into each other's eyes, almost recognizing
something of what had transpired earlier, yet barely able to detect the
sensations. Something else seemed to be happening; faint echos of words,
memories, sensations, images, ideas, thoughts -- Thoughts. I suddenly
realized we'd had our little conversation without speaking out loud. We'd
barely moved our mouths. We probably wouldn't have heard each other even if
we were three feet apart in a quiet room. My eyes went wide with shock, and
not without a little pang of fear.
He broke into a devious grin. "Relax," he shouted to me over the music.
"I felt it too." He paused a moment, almost unsure as to how to go on.
Finally he leaned over to me and said, "You want to go somewhere and see how
well we really do know each other?"
I smiled back. "I fully intend to find out who could make me do something
like that," I shouted back to him, indicating the line clawed into his flesh.
Needless to say, my sightseeing plans were immediately derailed, though I
had no complaints. We managed to recreate much of our long-distance
encounter, and after convincing each other (very, very thoroughly) that we
did know each other quite well, plans for Hitchhiker and Dream Rider to move
in together were well underway.
The irony of it all was, neither one of us ever did speak of how we'd
really met.
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