Chapter 4. My Dreams Are Getting Better All the Time!

His manhood, with a small bone inside it—what they call a baculum in dogs—enters Sabrina’s tender flesh gently yet with certainty. The girl moans as her body meets the man’s—heavy, muscular, hairy… yet gentle and sure. She can scarcely make out his outlines through the strange veil of living ether that wraps them both. Sabrina cannot see his face—but she knows he has a dog’s head.

She laughs, but the sound drowns in the crest of the wave. The girl feels his thrusts, this moment of divine joining of two bodies, giving birth to inspiration and life, and…

With a cry she rises on the bed. Sabrina throws back the blanket. She does not know what to call what has happened. Alfred Kinsey, in his future book, will name it “ejecting genital secretions with some force”—but now Sabrina simply looks at the abundance of moisture between her legs. Wet as the bed is, it strikes her as funny. She falls back on the pillow and laughs. For a couple of weeks now she has been seeing this mysterious man with a dog’s head in her dreams, night after night. Somehow it does not seem frightening to her—rather funny and… pleasant. And now, for the first time, he has left her so wet.

*

The morning of Monday, May 4, 1953, opens under a light fog that by noon gives way to ordinary spring heat—in Pussydale High School all the windows stand open again. Excellent grades or no, senioritis cannot pass even Sabrina Smut by, especially when all day her head is filled with the “waterfall” that came between her legs in the night.

Sabrina leans her chin on her palm, staring blankly at the chalkboard where the teacher is droning on about the causes of the Industrial Revolution. Her mind isn’t in 18th-century England; it’s back in that shimmering, ether-filled void of her sleep. A small, mischievous smile plays on her lips. She wonders if the boys in the hallway can tell just by looking at her that she’s had a very interesting night.

After classes the real show begins: practice for the cheerleading squad ahead of the Senior Pep Rally at the end of May. Sabrina is without question the star of the affair: never, in all the history of this school, have the cheerleader rehearsals drawn so many of the local men—students, teachers, the janitor…

…all standing around like statues outside the gym, hypnotized by the girl who’s so effortlessly perfect. Sabrina twirls her pom-poms, flashing looks over her shoulder at the assembled crowd. They follow her every movement, their faces full of awe, or hope, or quiet desperation. And yet—she’s thinking of him. The mystery man with a dog’s head and… a dog’s phallus, who comes to her in dreams.

Yeah, exactly. In her dream, he had a dog’s phallus.

Sabrina’s movements become even more graceful and sultry.

Break.

“Oh, stop distracting the poor boys,” her teammate, Cherry Bush, sighs, catching the eye of Mr. Peterson, the P.E. teacher, as he almost trips over his own feet.

Prudy walks up to them. She rolls her eyes but can’t quite suppress her smirk. “You’d think they’d never seen a girl before,” she mutters.

Sabrina giggles, her small pretty breasts heaving slightly from the exertion. She looks at Prudy with a gaze that is entirely too knowing for a high school senior.

“Maybe they just appreciate the finer things in life, Prudy,” she says, her voice a soft, melodic tease.

Cherry lets out a raucous laugh, leaning in close to Sabrina.

“Finer things? Honey, they’re practically praying to you. If you keep shaking those pom-poms like that, Mr. Peterson is going to have a heart attack right here on the gym floor.”

Cherry winks, her green eyes dancing with mischief.

“Though, you look a bit… distracted today, Sab. Who’s the lucky guy in your head? Or should I say, what is the lucky guy?”

“It’s nothing,” Sabrina breathes, though the way she bites her lower lip suggests otherwise. “Just… something I dreamed about.”

Cherry snorts, crossing her arms beneath her full breasts. “Dreamed about? Girl, you’ve got that look. The ‘I’ve been thoroughly handled’ look. Spill it.”

“I think… I’ve been thinking too much about dogs lately…” Sabrina says, a faraway look in her eye, watching their school mascot—a fellow in a Doberman costume.

“That’s it—it was a Doberman.” The thought flashes through Sabrina’s mind.

She comes to herself at once and hastily tells her friend. “I mean, I had a strange dream… Several times. There was some man who looked like a dog.”

Cherry freezes, her jaw dropping. Then she erupts into a fit of laughter that echoes through the gym. She doubles over, clutching her stomach, her large breasts bouncing with every shake of her shoulders.

“A dog-man? Sabrina, honey, I knew you were imaginative, but this is a new level! What, did he have a leash? Did he fetch your slippers before he took you to bed?”

Prudy frowns, though there is a flicker of intellectual curiosity in her gray eyes. “From a psychological standpoint, it’s likely a manifestation of a subconscious desire for a dominant, primal protector. Or perhaps just a reaction to the sheer boredom of Pussydale’s dating pool. Most of the boys here are practically toddlers in suits.”

Sabrina doesn’t laugh.

Sabrina shakes her head slowly, her long blonde hair catching the light from the gym windows. “It wasn’t funny, Prudy. It felt… real. Like someone was actually there.” She shifts her weight, the memory of that phantom pressure making her thighs press together. “He was…” Her voice trails off as she struggles to articulate the sheer, muscular dominance she felt in the ether.

“Magnificently beastly?” Cherry suggests with a wicked grin. She nudges Sabrina with her elbow. “Look, if you’re into that kind of thing, I can find you some interesting magazines.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows. “The kind with pictures of men with… equipment you didn’t even know could be that big. And the women? Forget about it. They look like they’re having actual fun instead of just putting on a show.”

Prudy clears her throat. “If you’re going to have an intellectual conversation about this, Sabrina, I’d rather we do it somewhere private.” She glances pointedly at the half-dozen boys who have crept closer at the mere mention of steamy magazines.

Sabrina laughs—a genuine, throaty sound that makes Cherry giggle. “Oh, Prudy… Who would’ve thought you’d be the one to suggest a private conversation about… pornography?”

Prudy adjusts her glasses with a haughty tilt of her chin.

“It is not pornography when it serves as a sociological case study,” Prudy retorts, though she doesn’t pull her arm away. She straightens her skirt with a sharp tug. “I simply mean that we shouldn’t perform our private anxieties for the entertainment of these Neanderthals.” She shoots a glare at the eavesdropping boys, who begin to retreat.

Cherry rolls her eyes. “Christ, Prudy. Lighten up. You’re talking about ‘sociological case studies,’ and I’m talking about dick pictures. We’re basically saying the same thing.” She winks at Sabrina. “Besides, if your dream-dog is waiting in the wings, you might need a primer on how to handle a real predator before he lands in your backyard.”

*

Evening of May 4, Cherry’s house.

Three girls stand on the second floor of the house, dressed in light spring dresses of different colors. Outside the window the sun is sinking toward the horizon. On the floor sits a huge box full of magazines.

“Um… Private Physique?” Sabrina says, standing in her friend’s room with the magazine in her hands. “I’ve never heard of such a publication.”

She looks with interest at the small magazine full of black-and-white photographs of athletic men, provocative captions, and advertisements for photographs by mail. On the cover is a handsome young athlete in a tight posing suit. It is the April 1953 issue.

“Actually I’ve got a whole lot of them. My brother gets them.” Cherry declares, straightening her back proudly and putting her hands on her hips. “Even though the magazine’s legal, some of its content isn’t sold out in the open… And you’re about to see why.”

The magazine is full of photographs of men in the poses of ancient statues, of athletes and models; some of the shots are deliberately eroticized. And… there are certain strange inserts…

“Oh, my God…” says Prudy, standing nearby.

“And… and how do men walk around with such things between their legs?” Lovely says calmly, sitting on the bed and looking at another of the magazines. “Like… does my dad have one too? Seems to me it must be awfully uncomfortable.”

Cherry lets out a loud, raucous laugh, slapping her thigh. “Comfortable? Honey, for the guys in these mags, it’s a badge of honor! It’s like carrying a concealed weapon. Your dad probably doesn’t look like a Greek god carved from marble, but trust me, the plumbing is all the same.”

Sabrina doesn’t answer immediately. She is staring at a particular page, her thumb grazing the edge of a photograph showing a man with a powerful, muscular chest and thighs that seem to strain against the fabric of his posing trunks. The image triggers a flash of that dream—the phantom weight, the primal scent of musk and ozone. She feels a sudden, sharp heat bloom between her legs, her breath hitching.

“I think…” Sabrina whispers, her voice sounding small and breathless. “I think I understand why they look so proud.”

Prudy scoffs, though she doesn’t look away from the page.

“So this is what they call it… pornography?” Lovely points to one of the inserts, where a man is shown without any clothing at all, even on his genitals. “It looks like a mushroom. And like with these ‘mushrooms’…”

“Oh, don’t hold back,” Cherry says, grinning as she flicks through another magazine. “You can say the word. Cock. Dick. Pussy. Let’s get some vocabulary in you girls.”

Lovely blinks behind her glasses. “I know the words, Cherry. And I know male anatomy… Almost. I just didn’t think people printed… THIS on pages.”

“Well, now you know,” Cherry says, plopping down on the bed next to Lovely. Cherry sprawls back against the pillows, her red hair fanning out around her shoulders. “Those are some serious weapons they’re packing.”

Prudy exhales sharply through her nose. “This entire conversation is so absurd. We’re discussing silly dreams and penises like it’s weather forecasting.”

“It’s fascinating!” Lovely protests, flipping a page carefully.

“Of course!” Cherry nods, laughing. “Every day I pray to our Lord Jesus Christ that Mark won’t have any trouble with that. He’s the best brother in the world. And such a handsome fellow—I’d take up with him myself if he weren’t my brother.”

She sighs and goes on. “Besides, we’re all already eighteen, time to get ready. And our Sabrina has the best chance of getting married first… You’ve got to be ready for them to poke you with THAT!” She falls onto the bed, giggling.

Sabrina lets out a soft laugh. Her eyes remain glued to the muscular figure in the magazine. The mention of “poking” sends a jolt through her, making her thighs press together instinctively. She feels a strange, dizzying pull—a longing that isn’t for the boys in Pussydale but for the overwhelming presence of the strange man with a dog’s head from her dreams.

“I just… I don’t know if I’m ready,” Sabrina murmurs, though her expression betrays her. Her gaze dreamy and distant. “But the dream… it felt so heavy. Like he could just pick me up and do whatever he wanted.”

Prudy rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Purely psychological. You’re projecting a desire for authority because you’re tired of being the town’s little doll.”

“And you didn’t see his penis in the dream, Sabrina?” Lovely asks. “Judging by the way you’re taking it, it wasn’t a monster but some kind of spaceman.”

“Probably… I felt something like that…” Sabrina says thoughtfully, then giggles. “A man with a dog’s head and a dog’s penis? Girls, just don’t tell anyone! My parents may be open-minded, but I’m afraid they’ll lock me up in the nuthouse!”

Lovely adjusts her glasses, her brow furrowing as she considers Sabrina’s words. “A dog’s penis? How interesting. I’ve read about canines in biology class, but I never imagined…”

Cherry, sprawled on the bed, lets out a loud cackle. “Girl, if you’re dreaming about dudes with dog dicks, then I guess that explains why none of the guys in Pussydale do it for you!”

She sits up, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I mean, can you even imagine trying to fit something like that?” She gestures vaguely, her words dripping with delight. Prudy rolls her eyes, but her gaze keeps darting back to the magazine in Lovely’s lap.

“For heaven’s sake, Cherry. You’re making it sound like a plumbing problem,” Prudy mutters.

Cherry grins, unfazed by Prudy’s snark. “Well, isn’t it? I mean, just look at these mags. Some of these guys are practically bursting at the seams, and that’s just normal human equipment!” She plucks a magazine from Lovely’s hands and flips to a particularly explicit page.

“Can you imagine how something like THAT would fit in a poor girl’s—“ she pauses for dramatic effect, “—pocketbook?”

Lovely blinks behind her glasses. “They wouldn’t exactly fit in a purse,” she murmurs, tracing the outline of a man’s bulging posing trunks with her finger. “But I suppose… if the man were on top…”

Prudy scoffs again but can’t resist looking over Lovely’s shoulder. “If you’re asking me, I think it would be rather uncomfortable. Unnatural, even.”

Cherry snorts. “Says the girl who’s never seen one in person.” She nudges Prudy playfully, though there’s a teasing quality to it. “I bet you’re imagining all sorts of terrible scenarios.”

Prudy straightens her back. “I don’t need to imagine anything. I simply prefer intellect over primitive urges.” She glances toward Sabrina, who is still flipping through a magazine with rapt attention. “And I’m concerned that Sabrina is fixating on this. These… bizarre science fiction creatures.”

Sabrina raises her head, meeting Prudy’s gaze with a small, almost dreamy smile. “But what if it’s not just a dream?” she asks softly. “What if it’s something real? Something happening outside of Pussydale?”

Prudy rolls her eyes. “Sabrina, we’re not children anymore. You really ought to read less of that science fiction Lovely keeps supplying you with. There are no such things as spacemen.”

Sabrina giggles. “I know, but… Why do I dream it then? And last night we… Well, he and I did what a husband and wife usually do in bed.”

Prudy covers her face with her hand. “Oh, no… Listen, I respect your wish to get married soon, but dreams where you have sexual intercourse with a man who has a dog’s head and a dog’s member… that’s too much.”

Cherry lets out a loud, appreciative whistle, flopping back. “Too much? Prudy, this is the most interesting thing to happen in this town since the bakery caught fire! I say go for it, Sabrina. If your subconscious is craving a canine conqueror, who are we to judge?”

Prudy groans. “Cherry, you’re impossible. This isn’t some joke. Sabrina is clearly troubled.”

Lovely closes her magazine with a soft thump, her expression thoughtful. “I think… I think dreams are windows. Even strange ones. Maybe Sabrina’s mind is trying to tell her something important.”

Sabrina traces a finger along the edge of the magazine page, her nail catching on glossy paper. “It felt real,” she admits. “When he—when the dog man touched me. It felt more real than anything I’ve felt awake.”

Cherry props herself up on her elbows, grinning. “Girl, if your dreams are more exciting than your real life, we have bigger problems than alien lovers.”

Prudy shoots her a look. “This isn’t about excitement. It’s about psychological health.”

She stands. “And I’m beginning to think Sabrina needs professional help.”

Sabrina bites her lip, her blue eyes flickering between her friends. “But what if it’s not just a dream?” she asks again. “What if there’s someone out there who looks like that? I don’t mean the dog’s head—I’m speaking figuratively. Someone who… who’s meant to be with me?”

Lovely adjusts her glasses. “Well, if you’re asking me, I think it’s possible. In fiction, sometimes people dream about their true love before they meet them.”

Prudy snorts. “True love? That’s ridiculous. You’re projecting your own wishes onto this fantasy, Sabrina.”

Sabrina shakes her head, her blonde hair catching the light. “No, Prudy. I don’t think so. I can still feel it when I think about him.”

*

“Grand, you know your father worries about you.” Magnificus says in a mild tone. His holographic image softly lights the spacious room on the first floor of one of the houses on the outskirts of Pussydale. The windows are covered by heavy lightproof curtains.

“Yes… Of course, of course. Let him not worry.” Says a very handsome young fellow of about thirty, with fair skin, piercing brown eyes, short black hair, and a tall figure. He looks like some good-looking, self-assured pop singer the girls go crazy over. In his face and bearing one plainly reads a mixture of beauty and manliness. “He’s got dozens of other children.”

“Oh… Grand.” Magnificus shakes his head. “Be careful out there. I see you’ve really overdone it with the looks. Every female in this Pussydale will be staring at you, wanting to mate with you. How goes the search for your Canilecta?”

“I put a strong marker on her during the last telepathic contact.” Grand answers, walking about the room. “She lives nearby. I’ll patrol all the places where young girls hang around. I’ll know her when I see her.”

He stops in front of the holographic device that rests on a small chair.

“And yes, I haven’t forgotten the main task. If you let even one communist fucking piece of filth through here—I’ll kill them, bring them back, kill them again, and keep killing them as many times as it takes!”

Grand leans toward the hologram. “Now that that stupid fucker Libidus is gone—nothing stops you from being a proper commander and wiping this shitty USSR off the face of the planet. Don’t be a fool—find out where that shitty Putout is and liquidate him before they cook up a proper version of the serum.”

Magnificus sighs. “My priorities are the safety of the civilians and the strategic containment of the serum, Grand. I am a soldier, not an assassin for hire. Do not mistake my patience for hesitation. I will neutralize Putout, but I will do it with a plan, not a blind rage. And a word of warning: Earth is a cesspool of contradictions. Keep that in mind.”

Grand lets out a short laugh, glancing at his own reflection in a nearby mirror. He adjusts the collar of his white shirt.

“Quit playing my father, Magnificus.” Grand says irritably. “One is enough for me. But I understand what you mean. You mind your business, and I’ll mind mine.”

Night draws near. Grand will come again to Sabrina in her sleep—an already familiar bond, though they still do not know each other’s names.

Sabrina will have another wet dream. Her dreams are clearly getting better all the time.