There was athletics games on a track and I participated in two running events. So did most of us who merely were mailers. First we had a shorter distance - this was either 200m or 400m, I cannot know for sure. I don't know the results either because I was mostly interested in 1500m event and I was concentrating on that.

1500m started and first 300m went just fine. There were few really good runners there but, however, I was in the front. But not for a long. My running started to feel very difficult after the first lap. I felt like I've waisted all of my energy on the shorter competition and I had to push really hard to keep on moving with the others. Eventually, after 550m has been run, I had to give up.

This was a horrible shame. To drop out 1500! I knew for good there has to be something wrong with me even though the headwind was pretty strong but that doesn't go for an explanation.

But then I realized there's something weird going on because all the runners seemed really exhausted. After two laps about half of the runners had dropped out! And the rest who continued were not doing any good. Their times would be miserably poor. I shaked my head, didn't know what to think and headed at cabins for a shower and to change my clothes. I didn't want to see how the race gonna end up.

In a shower there was one a bit older mate whom I've known for two years or so and he proposed that we should do some drugs to forget the poor performance. A third man who wasn't running but who had watched over us came into the cabin too and gave a sly nod. There were other athlets in showers as well but I guess they didn't hear us.

Three of us walked into a some kind of complex built underneath the ground - supposely under a hill because we didn't go downwards. The place seemed to be little dodgy but the runner mate knew where to go and what to do. So we arrived in a room which looked just like a crackhouse. There was an older guy with plenty of drugs. My mate greeted him drily and took himself a small paper pack. He asked what I wanted and I of course chose heroin. He gave me a similar pack which looked like a pack of sugar. I straightened my left arm, twisted it so that the veins were easily spottable and gave couple of pats. A needle and everything was ready for my use but then my mate asked if I wanted to consume the dose in some other form. I thought about it for a while and I decided to mix my drug with coffee. A cup of coffee appeared and I sprinkled heroin with coffee. It looked just like brown sugar but when mixed with coffee, coffee got a bit clotty. I guess it was just the way it was supposed to happen.

My mate took a shot himself and he felt so wonderful. I looked at him and I wanted to get high too - the sooner the better! But then something distracted my attention: Someone went out of the room and I wanted to follow em. I took a glance at my heroin-coffee and I had a huge internal fight on the question what should I do. Coffee looked strange. I followed the person.

I didn't know for sure where did ey go but I thought I had some idea. A woman joined me and then I started to feel being a female myself. Aye, that was happening: I slowly transformed to female. My hair grew longer and I guess my breasts got wee bigger so that I wasn't sure about my gender anymore. A woman took me into a room where was an important guy -- I spotted his importance straight away from the atmosphere - pretty occultic.. Anyways, the woman disappeared and I was left alone in the room with the O.G. I approached him and for my great surprise he was crippled. He didn't have left leg at all. He was also quite ugly. But he was a gangster so I didn't have any real choice but to behave as he wished.

He gave me a sign to come closer and I lay down on my knees just in front of him, very close. He said something and got his hands on me. He sure did know what to do with his hands and even though I was first unwilling I started to feel hot and I felt like I would need good screwing (or I had to give good screwing for him for I wasn't sure if I had a penis or pussy). With passion I took his pants off but the next thing was very awkward. It wasn't only his left foot that was missing but also a penis. I didn't absolutely know what to do or what to say. I was sure that if I said something wrong I would be shot dead. I was shocked and chilled. The gangster noticed there was something wrong because I stopped kissing and fondling him. He asked what was wrong but I couldn't answer. He started to get mad and he raged because I didn't say anything. He insisted and so I was sobbing: "You.. you don't have a dick.." The gangster was terribly shocked. He started to cry like a baby. For me it was hard to believe he didn't know the penis was missing! I felt pity for him but then I had an idea. I took my handbag (suddenly it appeared) and I said to him I had a fix here. I took a dildo out of the bag and gave it to him. The dildo was covered with a nice buff. He was really happy and installed the dildo beside his right leg. Weird enough, somehow it seemed to attach smoothly in his body. We didn't even take the buff away but started to fuck..

I dreamt I wrote a daylog

It was very important. There was something, something I had to write about. And I wrote it and it was finished, and then I realized that the place for it would be the daylog - it wasn't the kind of thing that should have its own node.
I remember this very clearly.

But I don't remember what it was all about, and as I have never posted a daylog (I checked), I assume I must have dreamt it.

Chihuahua Grub and I both worked at Gateway Country. We weren't very motivated salesmen, though, and mostly spent our shifts at the display computers noding on E2 and making fun of customers to each other via the Chatterbox.

That was it. The last straw. I've been kicked out of my home. Where to live? Of course! The condemned apartments in that part of town where it always rains! There are only four of them, with a small open-air arboretum in the middle, requisite weeping willow included. Trent Reznor lives on the north side. I'm pretty sure he's alone in there with his various mad-scientist creations and musical instruments. To the south, random party-types smashing up the place all day and all night. On the east side of the building were all the members of A Perfect Circle. The apartment to the west was vacant, but just yucky, so I decided to move in with A Perfect Circle. My room was small, the floor being almost the length of my torso, but I was able to wedge myself in pretty comfortably. At night, during strokes of lightning, odd glowing writing would appear on the walls and ceiling. Though it made me laugh my ass off during the dream, I really can't remember what it said. I didn't sleep too much that night. I was too busy watching the security monitors in my bedroom. Paz is so cute when she's asleep. The next day, it was time for them to record their second album. I decided to grace them with my hot talent and played lead guitar in six of the eight tracks. Following that, we all went over to Trent's place and got drunk.

That's the last time I take the LD50 of caffiene right before bed.
Gender Switch & Escape

  • I am part of a group of people who have been captured for some unknown reason and taken prisoner. We are being kept in a large, brightly-lit circular room, with one half of the wall made of plexiglass to allow our captors to observe us. When we were captured I was myself, but now I am a female with long blonde hair. I decide that I am going to help my people escape by breaking the glass wall with my extraordinary power of will. I walk up to the wall and give it a hard kick. Nothing happens. I back away and visualize myself performing a flying side thrust kick against the wall, imagining my leg penetrating the surface. I run forward and leap into the air, jabbing my leg out at the glass--the upper half shatters and I find myself balancing with one hand on the jagged edge looking down towards the floor as my blood flows down through the branching glass cracks emanating from my palm. I yell for everyone to escape as I remain in this position, fascinated by the sight of the blood-red tree root-like pattern.

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