The dream was different tonight. An ever-growing whistling sound filled the air above me, and when I looked up, I saw the bomb plummeting earthward directly at my location.
"Fuck me."
The plume of fire engulfed the area, and I woke up in a nearby field. I skittered through the grass as my rodent body carried me to a nearby farm. Instinct-driven, I sought out the aging sheepdog to move along the cycle. I was too familiar with the process, and the dream had burned its way into my subconscious. The weary canine never stood a chance, and it took longer to find a mountain lion for the third stage, and finally, a young girl fell beneath the claws and fangs of the rampaging feline. I stood looking out over the French countryside as the war raged below. German tanks formed up and prepared for a push against allied forces. It wasn't until a flare, fired from one of the Germans, lit up the sky that I noticed my dream self was no longer male. I was locked in a woman's body this time. Tits, I had some prodigious breasts that felt amazing to the touch.
I woke with Wanda snuggling against me, our naked bodies pressed close and comforting. What the hell was with my dreams? Transitioning from a rat to a dog, to a big cat, and finally being restored to a human semblance. Tack on the talking star and planet-sized dragons; what was deep inside of me to create such vivid imagery? Wanda's proximity reminded of why I was here. My thoughts returned to Dex and his brutal murder. The latest news update had been playing just before I fell asleep. I chastised myself for being insensitive; sure, Dex had been cold and antisocial, but that didn't earn him a vicious death. I remembered how hot my apartment had been when I got home. The strange thing was that the weather had been pleasant that night. Sure I had worn a jacket, but it wouldn't have triggered my thermostat. Something had happened in Dex's place to cause it to warm my apartment that much. It must have been bitter cold down there. What could have caused the temperature to plummet that far? Even if the killer cranked the AC to its max, I couldn't see it cold enough to affect my place. Besides, cold air tends to settle downward, making the basement feel arctic. What could do that? I didn't know, and I bet the cops didn't know, either.
The morning sunlight glittered off my father's ring, specifically the large dark blue gem set into it. With slow, careful gestures, I raised my left arm and brought it close, so I could use my right hand, remove the ring, and examine it more closely. The brilliant cobalt diamond was the first thing I studied. I had theorized that it was merely a dark sapphire, but Wanda had assured me it was indeed a diamond. She seemed to know the history of the gem and had mentioned the French Blue diamond. I Googled that term and found that it referred to that stone owned by King Louis of France and would later become the Hope Diamond. A skilled jeweler had cut the French Blue down to its current dimensions that visitors to the Smithsonian see today. The eight-carat emerald-cut diamond possessed no flaws, and its depth was enthralling. Wanda hinted that the gem in my ring could be from the French Blue or even the Tavernier stone, which was over a hundred carats when it arrived in Europe.
Had the gem been in the family all this time? Perhaps the jeweler who resized the Tavernier had shaped one of the most significant fragments and given it as a gift to one of my ancestors? How long has it been in our possession? Dad must have known, but how did he get ahold of it? Wanda didn't say or didn't know. Dad's ring was an engineering marvel and his version of a puzzle ring. The machined pieces and lines meant something was hidden or a test of my deductive skills. At my earliest chance, I would get my tool pouch and see if I could disassemble it and unlock the mystery. I accepted the challenge, slipped the ring back on my finger, held Wanda close, and heard her soft purr of satisfaction. She turned to face me and opened her eyes.
The kiss was as hungry as ever, and I rolled her on top of me. One of my hands cupped her naked ass as Wanda's tongue invaded my mouth. Despite three orgasms the night before, my cock rose to the occasion.
"Unbelievable," Wanda giggled. "You are a sex machine. Be gentle; you pummeled my insides quite rigorously last night."
"I believe you said, and I quote, break me if you can. Sound familiar?"
"M... maybe," she purred. "Unn, how did you, oh never mind. Perfect, I never get tired of how you feel inside me."
Wanda sat up and leisurely rocked her hips, doing all the work. She took my hands and placed them on her breasts. The flash of memory as the dream resurfaced caused a momentary lapse of concentration; when I returned to reality, Wanda was climaxing and looking at me with renewed wonder.
"When did you learn how to do that?" Wanda asked. "Was that a pressure point?"
I noted where my fingers were positioned and tried to memorize it before she moved. "Yeah, I've been studying Kundalini, and I wanted to surprise you," I lied my ass off.
"Oh, before I forget, I made reservations for us at Rousseau's tonight at eight, and your suit should be back from the dry cleaners by noon."
"Didn't it just open? The waiting list must be months long," I said.
"At least, but I know the owner, and we are close. He is an Arsenault on his mother's side. She's a sweetie, but don't ever take her up on throwing darts or target practice. You'd lose your entire inheritance before sunset."
"What is your fascination with families and bloodlines? Is there some eugenics project going on around here?"
"I hate that word, but by definition, it is not altogether unsuited to certain practices surrounding a group of influential families."
"I'll take that as a yes. Aren't you concerned about genetic bottlenecking?"
"It is foremost on our minds, which is why the occasional mingling of robust and less sophisticated partners is encouraged."
"Not elitist at all," I said, and she gave me a savage glare. "I know I sound just like my dad, good."
I left the bed before I said anything else to upset her. She tried to lure me back so I could get off, but the mood was spoiled. Wanda and Octavia wanted me to impregnate Beverly and create the next superior generation. They had made it abundantly clear the last few days with most of my time spent with the sex-starved tween. While Beverly was eager and willing to learn what I liked, her shallow personality rubbed me the wrong way. How did dad put up with this bullshit? I remembered his philosophy; it is worse than useless to try and swim upstream as the salmon does; better to float and, when the shore is near, take yourself out of the river. Words to live by, so I took a long hot bath, showered off, and dressed for a walk in the park. The weather was perfect, and perhaps something would inspire me. I was about to head out when I remembered dad's ring and sought out Wanda.
"Wanda, where are you?"
"In my study."
She didn't call it an office. Nah, she preferred a more old-world word like study or perhaps even library. It had been my dad's, but she had taken it over after his death. Color me surprised when I found the room unchanged and unaltered. Perhaps this was Wanda's way of showing that she missed him. Wanda was seated behind my father's rosewood desk, focusing on a holographic display. Had dad invented his own or was that Numenor technology? It didn't matter in the end, and it was a fantastic setup nonetheless.
