Sex with a talking baby

 

There's no way that I come out of this looking good. None. Sex with children is taboo, but with an infant, still in a swaddling cloth? Good God, man!

In my defense, this was a very cunning, manipulative baby, a very persuasive little Stewie Griffin-like imp, somehow possessing the feminine wiles (and certain anatomical features) of a full sized Mata Hari or Cleopatra. There was no denying this--thing--its desire. I'm still not coming out of this looking like anything less than a very sick, pedophile pervert for dreaming of such things, or even daring to admit to having such a dream.

But for anyone sick enough to have read past the title, go ahead and satisfy your circus freak voyeuristic fetishes, and hear the rest of it. You've already tainted yourself by getting this far in. That's what SHE said (and I'm not even kidding) or words to that effect. 

In this dream, I somehow found myself in possession of a talking baby. I don't know if that's even the right way to describe it. I should say that I was "in the possession of" a talking baby, meaning that the marionette strings were hooked up the other way around. This thing had control of me. I say "thing" because, although it had a personality and a gender, it was still at that amorphous age where one calls it an "it," the unnamed infant stage.

I was walking down the road with this infant in my arms, and it just kind of suggested to me that wouldn't I like to have sex with it. Just like that, in words audible only to me, but non-hallucinatory, just quiet, like it was trying to get away with telling me a secret in public.

I was shocked and disgusted at the idea, and I tried to ignore and deny that such a thing was happening. Being propositioned by a talking baby? In broad daylight on a suburban street? Preposterous! 

It was insistent, though, and it kept on with the suggestive talk, appealing to some dark place of desire inside of me. I was in a bind, since I couldn't very well abandon this infant in my arms. This tiny, dependent life form held me captive as surely as I was holding it to my bosom. 

Somehow, as we were walking, me pushing a very rickety baby carriage made of wire coat hangers and rags, clutching this infant to my chest, she managed to initiate the act. She slid down to my pelvic area and I could feel the moist, if somewhat prickly sensation of <cringe> insertion. 

It was brief, and I resisted at first. I had to resist, for the sake of all that is good and decent and right. I could not--would not--with a baby. But I felt the magnetic pull of the specific gravity of those anatomical regions, and some kind of primitive lust overrode my good sense--and I was in. 

"Might as well keep going," it thought/spoke the words directly to my brain. "Your in it this far. And doesn't it FEEL good?" I couldn't deny that it kind of did. 

In, and then back out, intermittently, as walking and maintaining control of a baby carriage while having sex with a ten pound lump of sentient flesh is difficult under any circumstances, but especially when trying to conceal the act with nothing but a tiny blanket. 

But we were in public, with passersby milling about, saying "how do you do" and wanting to comment on the cute little infant who was being held in a curiously lower than normal position by me. Did I need help? Was the baby too heavy for me? 

I tried to appear nonchalant, and I hurried past them, past some tall buildings, and all the while the baby carriage kept veering off the sidewalk and getting hung up on sprinklers and stuck in the grooves of the freshly edged lawn.

My pants unzipped, this thing straddling me as I waddled away shamefully, the act continued until we somehow managed to get out of public view. At that point, I regained some measure of control, and my pertinent body part refused to cooperate any further.

"You're no fun!" the rascally runt said, and with that, I was free from its grasp. I put it in the stroller, where it was apparently going to wait until someone else came along.

I'm not sure exactly how things ended, but I wish they would have ended sooner, like maybe before I ever got into such a completely disgraceful situation. I guess this is the hazard I signed up for when I decided that I was going to be a dream journalist. I have to report the facts, no matter what. <Augh>