I have found myself in a strange part of town. People are staring. Looking down at myself, I see why. I have lost my skirt. I am in sheer pantyhose. Anyone can see that I have no panties, and that I am not really female.

My blouse does not cover below my waist. Ahead of me, two men stand. They are smiling, but their smiles are cold. I don't want to walk by them, but I can't help myself. I am being drawn forward, like a magnet, against my will.

"Look at her," one of them says. "You know how you do a woman like that?"

"Yes," the other says, "I know. Since there's only a hole in the back, you do it that way!"

I stand in front of them, eyes lowered. I know that I can't run away. I don't want to. Something has drawn me to them, and somehow I have known all along that I walked out of the house deliberately without my skirt.

"Are you afraid?" the first one says? He has unzipped his pants. He is huge. "With this inside you, you'll cry!"

"Mylene does not cry," I whisper.

In ritual style, I willingly sink to my knees, and from there, tip forward till my face is nearly against the warm mud. I can smell this warm mud. What was once a city street, now seems more like some kind of country road.

My pantyhose rip away from my waist and the fabric peels like two flower petals down either thigh. I am exposed to them.

A moment later, and I feel him inside me. In the dream, I see it all from his point of view. He is almost a caricature, he is so big. My cheeks seem so small. In fact, he has widened me so that there is hardly any cheeks at all. He is plowing in and out, incredibly big and hard and fast.

When he stops, he lives me with a terrifyingly wide hole that seems like it can't possibly ever shrink back to normal size. I try, with all my muscles, to close it, but I can't.

His partner, not so big as he, curses when he goes in, and doesn't touch the sides. His friend laughs.

Now I am sitting in the mud. I should be worried that all the mud is going to go up inside me, because the hole, so violated by something so big, has not closed.

"You took it all," the man says. "And you did not cry."

"But we will make it look like you did."

I wait patiently, part my lips, expect them to shoot their loads into my mouth.

Now I see it all from their perspective. One man on either side of my face. Hot spurts hit my closed eyes. It begins to run down my cheeks like tears.

They laugh and wipe themselves off with my hair.

I wake up, sitting in the same position that I was in at the end of my dream.

My fingers touch my face.

No. They are not wet at all.