Some dreams are never meant to come true. Other times, dreams are better off staying a dream. Other times, a dream comes true and it ends up being a nightmare.

That may have been the case a couple nights ago, I still haven't decided.

Honestly, I have been in the dark about what was going on around this place. It was better not to pay attention to the details too much while dealing with ONE. Those people are scary and I will jump when they tell me to jump.

But I notice things too. For them to think I wouldn't notice, would show how in their grand scheme of things, they sometimes have lost their common sense.

Since the time I saw my flaxen haired beauty that towers over me, I've been having one dream and one dream only. To get between her thighs.

Call me gross. Call me a male chauvinist pig. I don't care. At least I can be truthful about what my wants, desires, and dreams are.

But as I found out, not all dreams are like they seem. You would think that I would have been the happiest man, finally being where I wanted. Bloody hell, if it had been my dream, I would have found a highway and done cartwheels in the middle of it.

But it wasn't something that made me happy. In fact, it made me worry about my doll face. My popsicle has been invaded by something, but I'm just not sure what. And I'm sure that those bastards at ONE know all about it, that they are just using us all as pawns for their sick and perverted games.

I'm sure that Madeline loved seeing Nikita dropping me to the ground and squeezing my head between her lovely sculpted thighs like she was trying to split my head open like it was a nut or something.

Those same thighs that I have thought about day and night for months and months. The same thighs that should be encased in bronzed and worshiped by me. The same thighs that I wanted to get in-between to lick and caress. Those same thighs almost killed me that night and I'm sure that my doll didn't give a damn about the bruises I have now.

In those moments as popsicle lowered the gun into my face, I saw my all too brief life flash in front of me. It hasn't had many high points, but until that moment, I thought it was a pretty good life for the raw deal I was given.

I had been in this position before. Not between doll face's thighs or anyone else's thighs. But I had seen my life flash in front of me before.

It is never a good feeling.

It was when I was just a small lad, nothing more than seven. I had been riding a bicycle down the road, heading off to school for some bird or lassie. I'm not quite sure exactly what I was doing or why, but with me, it was always about the girls.

Well, a car came speeding out of nowhere, popping up on its two side wheels before dropping back down to the ground with the thud. It started to skid, and I was in the way.

And I froze.

I learned something that day. You can freeze and you can do something. Maybe that was why I kissed the gun. I had to do something instead of allowing sugar legs to keep squeezing harder and harder. She could have busted my head off before I even hit the floor, so I was ahead.

That day, when I was riding that bicycle, some man pushed me out of the way, pushing me down to the sidewalk. My bicycle got trashed, crumbled into a hump of metal. The car manhandled it much like I would with a coat hanger and I have locked myself out of my apartment or got locked into my own bathroom.

Something is wrong with my doll. I don't know what and I don't know if I want to know. It used to be fun living next to her and it used to be a turn on to have these incredible erotic dreams about her long body and her fine legs, knowing that superspy would snap my male part off of me if he found out about them.

But now, I'm just scared.

I can no longer dream of being between those thighs. A dream that used to give me wet dreams, now has me crying in my sleep.

Would she have killed me?

I think the answer is yes. I don't know what stopped her from not doing that to me that night. It sure wasn't my personality and it wasn't that she was going to ask something of me. It wasn't that my lie was that good.

I should go to superspy. But that thought makes me quiver in my pants and threatens to allow my bladder to lose control. I'd rather be between the thighs again before putting myself up for the man in black. One look at that blank face would have any man running in the other direction with all vital parts securely tucked away.

And when I know that I am going to run into that zombie in black, I wear a cup.

I have to protect myself.

I have to start having safer dreams, ones that won't come true. There has to be some model out there that can make my nights hot when I'm all alone.

Now Tyra Banks is hot. She has long legs that go on and on. I'm sure that although they'd find a way to squeeze me, they wouldn't be able to squeeze my head off of my neck. I used to be a Cindy man, but the image was destroyed with the pregnant stomach. It is forever burned in my mind.

But when I close my eyes, I won't find them there. There will be no model there. It will be of the bird next door, which has been stolen away some way. Superspy couldn't even protect her and I have to wonder who is next.

It's best not to dream and it's best to no nothing about ONE.

I have no choice. Without knowing about ONE, I die. And with my dreams, at least I'm still alive inside.

I don't think my popsicle dreams anymore.

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