I was falling from the sky. Not free-falling, no, but imagine instead a submarine on a calculated trip to the ocean floor. No leaks through the hull, no panicked crewmembers on the verge of claustrophobia-induced insanity, but instead a routine survey at the bottom of the sea mediated by calm, experienced sailors. Supporting me on my descent were these hairless humanoids, holding me by my forearms. Their skin was covered in scales that shone in a spectrum from blue to yellow, depending on which angle you looked at them, and their jet-black lips were no larger than a pen clip, yet entirely capable of emoting along with their mostly human eyes and facial muscles. The men and women only differed in height and the presence or absence of featureless, almost imperceptibly small breasts; their crotches were all smooth and bare. As I was studying the anatomy of the one holding my right forearm to guess its sex, the Earth’s surface—or whatever planet we were on—emerged from the fog. Pink specks were shuffling in a flesh-tone ocean, like a carpet of maggots on a wet pile of trash. A smell of rank sweat and stale urine hit me. Turning to the being on my right again, I asked where they were taking me in desperation. The floating entity didn’t say a word, but instead smiled and flickered its eyes like an aged light bulb. Suddenly, I was drained of all desire. I had the notion that this rush of contentment wasn’t mine, but I accepted the feeling of serenity with abandon. I lost awareness of everything, fear of everything, of where I was, of who I was, of where I was sinking to. All of my anxiety gave way to unquestioning trust in the opalescent, levitating gecko-woman holding me and the living ocean it was slowly leading me towards—until individual outlines started to emerge from the vibrating mass below.

The brownish maggots were disembodied penises the size of grown men. Twitching, writhing, ejaculating, deaf, blind. I wanted to scream, but I clenched my teeth and bit my tongue instead, afraid the ones holding me would loosen their grip reflexively. Maybe all of the penises below wanted to scream too, I thought—even if they had the mouths and lungs to do so, they wouldn’t so much as hear their own cries. The stench multiplied and made my unblinking eyes water.

Another group of floating lizard-people were carrying someone that looked like last semester’s linear algebra professor down into the ceaselessly spurting abyss. As much as I tried to deny it, he wasn’t struggling or crying. No, he didn’t show the slightest sign of resistance. Until all I could see of his head was his signature comb-over as he fell further below, I saw him smiling from ear to ear. His feet were dangling carelessly, like he was on a ski lift.

The shiny flying reptilians pushed apart some of the penises to reveal the dark green ground that resembled the translucent glass on an old wine bottle. When his soles touched it, his legs crumpled like a flattened paper crane, its distinct muscles and bones all warping into a vaguely spherical heap. His abdomen then protruded, covering his contorted lower limbs entirely, leaving a pair of wrinkled lumps the same size and shape as slightly deflated beach balls directly below his belly button. The concave depression where his stomach once was then flattened out like a tooth filling. The volume to occupy the cavity was taken from his arms and hollowed flaps of skin were left behind.

The armless creature with nascent testicles for legs still exuded that chilling serenity. He looked up at the beings that brought him there, which had risen to a distance far enough to not be ejaculated on, and smiled again, beaming in a way foreign to an ageing academic. Carelessly wide-eyed, he then turned to face me. The disfigured scholar held eye contact with me for what felt like an eternity, until I heard a sharp snap through the cacophony of meaty, dull slaps.

His spine collapsed. His face froze in that satisfied expression and then smashed into the newly wrinkled skin of his scrotum. A new layer then grew to encompass the rest of his limp body, now a beige rather than a dark, wood-like brown, reaching above his head and pinching tightly like an end of a sausage. Everything above and including his shoulders fused into each other, becoming a single cylindrical mass. The area around his head expanded until all the skin covering it stretched taut into a bell-like shape.

The other man-penises then tumbled back into place as if they were welcoming him. I watched the writhing mass with bated breath, expecting the grizzled intellectual to break free from his foreskin-cocoon and fly upwards to grab me by the hand so we could escape together, miles above this obscene Hell. A rope of semen soaked the sole of my right foot, but my attention didn’t waver. Finally, something started to emerge from below.

Were his legs unfolding to support his own weight? Were his arms growing back to push the squirming masses away? Was that beige mass his shoulders rising from that fetid pit? Of course not. I was embarrassed to have even entertained the thought once an engorged, pink bell emerged from the swelling lump.

Shaft supported by its testicles, I absent-mindedly stared down the barrel of its urethral meatus in a nauseated stupor. Upright for probably the last time, it jerked back and forth, but still stood until a white jet shot towards me with a visceral squelch and submerged my head and chest in a salty sludge. I screamed immediately, but a split-second later reduced my wails to a muffled whine once a viscous rivulet of the professor’s goo fell into my mouth. Through a translucent film covering my eyes, I could hardly make out the unknowing assailant fall supine into the indistinct masses.

To my relief, the semen wasn’t transformative, but only telepathic. I now understood that every one of the erupting heaps below were once people, men and women alike. Yes, the mutagenic, glassy soil below them supported their metabolic needs in every respect, meaning they all would ejaculate and twitch about until the sun burnt out. No, they weren’t suffering; it was a deaf-blind, nigh-eternal ecstasy for every turgid penis. Silent and invisible expressions of otherworldly pleasure were psychically transferred through skin-to-skin contact and sperm-borne transmission to make the euphoria from the continuous, body-wide orgasms communal.

A wetness exploded from my thighs and I tensed up from head to toe like a tetanus patient. They weren’t communicating non-verbal moans, but instead transferred every aspect of their emotions with them. The twitches and ejaculate sprays from orgasms, in other words, shared their ecstasy from of a body-wide orgasm to anyone in the vicinity. Others were then brought to climax to perpetuate an ecstatic, decadent eternity.

They were just as clueless about the role of the airborne humanoids that condemned them to the fleshy abyss, if not more in the dark about their origins and motivations. It was even less of a concern to them, obviously. They could never turn back. They could never want to.

But as the dreamer here, this was ultimately my world. As I had made the man-penises and their temptations, so was I able to escape them. The entities that had brought me there, as merely creations of mine, broke their grip the moment I started to wrestle my arms from them.

Then, I flew. I flew until the penises were obscured again by their body-heat-induced steam. I flew until the scaly beings fell behind. I flew until the grey planet fell behind. I flew until I woke up.