Shoo Shoo Baby

Author's Foreword—

This is my eighth submission to Literotica and my second to the "Sci Fi & Fantasy" genre. If you like what you read, you're invited to visit my profile to see the archive of my previous postings.

Enjoy!

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Most people believed Gwen was a stranger person. Gwen herself believed it too. From the age of three, she told whoever would listen that she had memories, which were not from her own experiences. She spoke about flying aboard a huge olive-drab airplane as part of the crew. Before she knew about books, she described this airplane as having four huge propellers mounted on the wings, just in front of red-painted round cowlings. She clearly remembered climbing up to look over the top of this airplane in flight, looking out of what she described as "a large upside-down fishbowl." Two pipes stuck through the fishbowl into the cold screaming wind on the other side, and there was a similar but more spherical fishbowl mounted to the airplane's belly. A friend of hers operated that underbelly fishbowl during the many important missions that airplane saw.

She also secretly knew she had died aboard that airplane returning from one of those important missions.

Gwen believed this because of the crescent-shaped birthmark on her chest. It was about two inches above and to the left of her heart—right where she had been hit by something during the course of the strange memories she had. She remembered lying on the deck in extreme pain and bleeding all over the place, longing to see and hold his darling Rose again. Whoever Rose was; Gwen didn't have a clue. She only knew this "Rose" was very much loved.

Her parents thought she'd merely seen a movie or pieced together events from overheard conversations in public. Gwen couldn't get

anyone

to understand what she was remembering was absolutely real! But she did not have the vocabulary at the age of three to describe things in detail. Her parents told her to forget her "memories" and get on with her life. She obeyed but not completely—she stopped talking about the mystery airplane but kept an eye out for clues that might surface during the course of growing up.

Her mystery was partially solved at age eleven. She was at the school library watching a World War II documentary about the Allied air raids on Nazi Germany. An image suddenly flashed past on the screen and Gwen jumped to her feet. "Freeze that!" she screeched urgently. Her teacher, startled into thinking something was wrong with the movie itself, jumped up and stopped the projector. Gwen demanded the film be run backwards; the teacher obliged, still thinking something was wrong with the movie. The image she had seen reappeared and she called for it to be stopped. The teacher did so and Gwen stared at the frozen image with wide eyes. "What is that?" she asked, her voice hushed in awe.

"It's an airplane, you ninny," sneered a classmate.

Gwen could see it was an airplane—but it was

the

airplane from her unknown memories!

"That's a Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress," her teacher answered. "They flew from bases in England to do bombing raids on targets in Germany."

"What are those fishbowls on the top and bottom?"

"They're the gunner's turrets," the teacher explained, wondering why she wanted to know so badly. "A man stands behind the pilots to man the top turret, while another man actually sits down inside the ball turret underneath." Gwen nodded thoughtfully and apologized for the outburst. The movie was resumed while her classmates wondered if she was nuts.

Using her new tidbit of knowledge as a toehold, Gwen researched the B-17 Flying Fortress in her spare time over the next twelve years. She also discovered information about the concept of reincarnation and began to wonder if she had been a crewman aboard a B-17 in a previous life. It made complete sense. Her memories of manning the top turret in defense of her ship during bombing runs over Germany were still quite vivid. They were also confirmed by documented historical facts—facts she hadn't been aware of or had access to as a toddler.

Gwen began visiting aircraft museums in her late teens. She visited Grissom Air Force Base in Kokomo, Indiana. There was a small outdoor museum there, and she presumed she would be less likely to be discovered and arrested upon going aboard the B-17 on display. Gwen felt an overwhelming need to assume her duty station one last time. Unfortunately, the B-17 at Grissom was sealed to prevent the intrusion of nesting animals and birds and the damage that would cause.

On her twenty-first birthday, Gwen visited the Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio. It was the world's largest airpower museum with over one thousand airplanes of all types and vintages on display. She made a beeline for the Flying Fortress, ignoring for now the other aircraft and artifacts on display. It was like she knew something was waiting for her.

Gwen arrived at it and stood there, just admiring the old bomber. It was a long-lost friend. She still bore the 91st Bomber Group markings and the "232076" tail number on her rudder, and the sexy lass still adorned the nose with the name

Shoo Shoo Baby

spelled out in flowing script. Everything about the restored B-17G was exactly as she remembered while flying missions over Nazi Germany aboard her, three decades before she was born.

She looked around for possible witnesses. Despite knowing she could be arrested and maybe even detained indefinitely as a potential terrorist under the Homeland Security Act, Gwen intended to go aboard and assume her station. Moving carefully and with her heart beating fast, she stepped over the cordon next to the starboard elevator and stealthily made her way forward toward the open bomb bay doors. She glanced at the ball turret as she sneaked past it and wondered if friend and bunkmate Mickey from Rolla, Missouri—who went by the nickname of Missouri Mick—was still alive. Gwen remembered his kept a picture of his girl, Karman Kaye, in the breast pocket of his uniform and taped it to the controls during their missions. Taking one last look around for witnesses, she ducked under the fuselage and stood upright inside the bomb bay.

Like she had been doing it all her life, she climbed up into the fuselage. The interior of good ol'

Shoo Shoo Baby

was musty and dim, and she sensed the presences of her comrades' spirits and the soul of the airplane itself. Gwen deftly climbed further up, passed the navigator's position and climbed into the top turret. She looked out and saw the crowded inside of the museum's hangar. Her imagination heard the concerted thrum of the four Cyclone radial engines as they cruised with one hundred sixteen other B-17s and fifty-four B-24 Liberators inbound for a ball bearing plant, deep within the dangerous heart of Nazi Germany. Anti-aircraft fire from the ground left ominous black puffs of smoke in the sky all around their formations, while "little friends" in their P-38 Lightning, P-47 Thunderbolt and P-51 Mustang fighter planes kept the Mescherschmidt ME-109s away. The aluminum skin of

Shoo Shoo Baby

rattled and banged as shell fragments and bullets peppered her without mercy. Fifty-caliber machine gun fire was heard mingling with the drone of the engines and the occasional electric whir of the ball turret as Missouri Mick spun it around as needed to take aim. Over the intercom, someone warned there was an ME-109 at five o'clock low. Its pilot was determined to knock them out of the sky even at the cost of his own life, for the protection and glory of the Fatherland. Gwen nervously fingered the triggers of her fifty-calibers as she scanned the skies above them for hostiles—

"Danny?"

Gwen's heart froze. She crouched down and saw a young man standing next to her post. His eyes were wide as he looked at the college-age woman, trespassing just like he was in a World War II-vintage B-17 Flying Fortress on static display in an airpower museum.

"Rose?" Gwen whispered in awe.

The college-age man Gwen had called Rose nodded slowly. "I got a telegram from the Army Air Corps that you'd been killed coming back from a mission," he said uncertainly. He must have known how weird that would sound to a complete stranger.

Gwen nodded. Drinking in the details of the man she'd never met but knew so well. "I got hit in the chest by a shell fragment," she whispered, touching the place where her birthmark lived. Before her strange memories started to surface at age three, Gwen had wondered why the jagged, crescent-shaped birthmark looked so familiar. Now she knew—

It was where she had been mortally wounded in her previous life.

"I cried fir days," the young man told her. "I vowed I would never marry after losing the only man I had ever loved. Mother tried to tell you would want me to go on, but I knew we would be reunited one day. I

knew

we would."

"As I lay there dying," Gwen added softly, gesturing toward a spot a few feet aft of the bomb bay, "I vowed I would touch your face again. I would find a way to see you and love you, and be loved by you." She reached up and gently touched his face, trailing her fingertips over his proud and strange-yet-familiar chin in the way she knew he liked. "I am so glad we found each other again, Rose Kaye Davenport."

"So am I, Daniel Ray Halvert."

The reincarnated couple shared their first kiss in sixty years. Salty tears slipped down their cheeks as they marveled at the dim memories becoming brighter within the passion. Their kisses grew steadily more confident and urgent as the nervousness of their present-day personalities was eclipsed by the love both remembered from a more innocent time when the entire world was at war.

Lips massaged lips, necks and earlobes. Gwen-as-Danny flicked Jack-as-Rose's earlobe just as he remembered she liked. His breath shuddered past his lips as Rose reached for his strong chest and found breasts instead. The reversal of their genders would take some getting used to—but they were together again, and

that

was the most important thing.

After several minutes, Gwen gently pushed him back. "Let me show you the cockpit."

Jack smiled. "You did say you would one day."

"And I am a man of my word," Gwen quipped with a smile, gesturing to her left. Jack went forward as she followed.

They tenderly undressed each other, amazed at how different yet similar things were with their bodies. Gwen looked very much like Rose had in the 1940s, while Jack looked a lot like Danny had before being shipped to the European Theater. Giving in to the needs of their reversed genders, Jack sat in the pilot's seat and watched as Gwen trailed loving kisses down his body before enveloping his stiff organ with her mouth. Gwen-as-Danny wished she was licking Rose's vagina instead of sucking Jack's penis, but this was a small price to pay for being reunited and finally at peace with the strange memories from their present-day childhoods.

Jack groaned and writhed in the B-17's pilot seat, his organ pulsing in the mouth of his lover. He too dimly reflected on the strange memories that had haunted him for years. It hadn't made any sense—he remembered being a woman in love with a man killed in action during World War II. He remembered as a child being sad and feeling like weeping whenever he saw a picture of a Flying Fortress, and never understood why. He remembered longing to see Danny again—whoever Danny was—whenever the 1944 song "Shoo Shoo Baby" by the Andrews Sisters was plated, for which his plane had been named. He remembered the horrible day the telegram came while helping her mother tend the Victory Garden in the backyard. He remembered her parents telling her, too many times, that Danny would've wanted her to go on with her life and be happy.

But she would have none of it. Rose died a spinster in 1978, only to be reborn into the body of a man seeking answers to questions asked long before he was born.

Jack moved his hand over Gwen's hair. "Mount me, Danny," he said, his voice hoarse. "I need you inside me."

Gwen pulled clear of Jack's erection, wiped her mouth and threw her leg over him. Trying not to gouge her back on the pilot's control yoke behind her, Gwen guided his erection into her. Yielding to their reversed genders yet still feeling in command of their lovemaking as most men naturally would, Gwen lowered herself carefully onto him in order to defer to his female body's virginity. She felt his welcome intrusion as a woman while her male personality reconciled the unique sensations with their present reality.

Likewise, Jack luxuriated in the warmly moist vaginal embrace. His female personality suddenly understood why men pressured women for sex despite her desire simply to be held and cuddled—there was no other feeling in the world that came

close

to comparing! Rose knew if she'd had a penis in a previous life, she would want it cradled snugly within the slippery friction of a beautiful woman, just as he was enjoying now.

Gwen worked herself up and down upon Jack's erection as he meanwhile stroked the flesh of her face, shoulders and chest with his fingers.

Shoo Shoo Baby

was creaking and popping slightly with their movements; the tips of her wings, nearly fifty feet out from the fuselage, were swaying a couple of inches up and down. Other museum patrons looked at those moving wingtips with minor curiosity before moving on, figuring a maintenance crew was at work inside tail number 232076.

In a moment, Jack had an orgasm as Gwen felt a rush of sexual satisfaction seize her. She stopped pumping as his climax tapered off, then lowered herself upon him to rest and cuddle. Both breathed deeply, drawing the musty and completely unique scent of the Flying Fortress into their lungs and treasured memories. They cuddled in the pilot's seat in the embrace, both understanding through Jack's previous-life memory and Gwen's current-life memory why post-coital cuddling was so very important. The couple parted in death and united again in the reincarnated lives exchanged whispered pillow talk as the living spirit of

Shoo Shoo Baby

listened without comment.

More than twenty minutes passed as present-day Jack and Gwen got reacquainted with their previous lives. They got themselves cleaned up as best as possible and got their clothes back into place. Gwen-as-Danny gave Jack-as-Rose a tour of his old B-17; they sadly knew coming aboard the Flying Fortress again would be impossible. Jack-as-Rose loved the thoughtfulness of her newly re-found soulmate, making mental notes to ask about specific details of his eighteen missions to Germany before losing his previous life to enemy fire.

Finally, it was time to go. Gwen silently hopped down from the bomb bay to the museum floor and scouted around for unintended witnesses. Satisfied, she gestured. Jack dropped to the floor and followed her toward the B-17's tail. They stepped over the cordon and strolled around

Shoo Shoo Baby

for more than an hour, drinking in her details as Gwen told Jack one tall tale after another about his crewmates and their missions over Germany. Then the two current-life strangers—having met just two hours ago—departed the Flying Fortress in favor of some of the other World War II artifacts Wright-Patterson had on display.

Jack and Gwen were married just eight days later, despite the warnings and gentle protests of their families. They had been reunited with each other in their early twenties more than six decades after death had unwillingly caused them to part.

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Copyright © 2008 by the author, John W. Adams, Jr. All rights reserved.