I was a bit undernourished…
I was dragged out of my dream by reality. It was not an alarm, bright sunshine in the morning, or a twin-tail sister with brother complex saying "onii-chan daisuki" beside the bed—
But my sticky briefs.
I looked at my phone beside the bed, and it was 4 o'clock again, two hours before what I set my alarm clock at. I changed into a clean pair of briefs in the screen light and sprawled again on the bed. I closed my sleepy eyes and complained a bit, hoping what had happened days ago would not happen again.
At 5:02, however, it happened. Not only the wet dream, but the stinky white alarm, just as days ago.
I skillfully got out of bed, put on my slippers, looked for a clean pair in the closet to replace with, and put the dirty pair in the basket, which is a smooth process that I had no leisure to flaunt. I dragged myself slowly to the washroom and saw myself in the mirror with my hands pressing down on the washbasin: Messy hair, sleepy black eyes, and dull skin, which are brought to me not by staying up but by exhaustion. After a simple washing, I took the earliest subway to work and made it through the day in a blur.
I knew better than anybody else that it was anomalous, since no young man replaces his briefs twice every night, even if he has a strong body. I tried to stay up at first, but it didn't work. I then tried all means I could think of, such as ligature, "unloading" in advance, and horror films, but none of them worked. I began to panic and asked all the doctors I knew—medical, psychological, herbalist, and even barefoot doctors, but no one could cure me. Sleep was torture for me every night. Over and over, the wet dream took my energy away, making me a living dead with an empty body. A friend told me that sleepwalking may cause this, so I put an infrared camera beside my bed to record my every movement in sleep. In order to record my body clearly, I put my quilt on the table and turned on the heating to keep me from colds. After complete preparation, I saw the red camera blinking, feeling a bit uncomfortable, not for my uneasiness of surveillance, but for my terrible premonition.
At 4:30, I was dragged again out of the wet dream. I gasped and looked around, only to find nothing but the camera. I didn't hurry to replace my briefs, but went straight to the tripod, playing the record of what had happened.
Starfish posture, and hands on the mattress with no contact to the body… With nothing unusual discovered, I turned my vision to my crotch, where my trousers were stretching regularly minutes before I got up. I enlarged it and started careful observation. Was my lower body moving? No. It was stimulated rather than expanding. I watched my tightly covered crotch and suddenly found the truth that it was my briefs rather than I that was rising and falling.
Why did I act in an "action video" every night, in which the actor was me and my briefs were the actress? I watched the video for a long time with no acceptance of this ridiculous idea. I even thought I was so exhausted that I was dreaming. However, the video gave me the same answer the next day. I had no choice but to accept the answer that ordinary people can't accept, that I was the first man to be raped by briefs. After my acceptance of this bizarre fact, I decided to ask it for the truth in my dream.
The golden light of dusk fell into the classroom through the window, with the desk shining gold, the light literary atmosphere and the sweet fragrance of the girl with white hair in front of me. With her head askew, the bangs on her forehead drooped naturally, which was particularly lovely in the low light. She slowly opened her mouth, and immediately closed her lips, grasping back what she was about to say. There was a pause between us. She thought about how to express it, while I watched her out of my mind. Suddenly, she got up her courage, clenched her hands in front of her chest, and said, "Excuse me senpai. Could you go out with me? " I hesitated for a moment and said an embarrassing sentence, "Are you my briefs?"
The girl was clearly surprised at my unrelated question, but she naturally answered, "Yeah, senpai." She smiled so brightly that the sweet atmosphere like lavender was not in line with the topic.
"Why did you treat me like this?"
"Because… I like senpai best and think senpai a trustworthy man… is it wrong?" She looked at me with innocence, making me speechless. When I was about to reply, the dream ended.
I recorded the content of my dream when it was still clear, trying to find the regular pattern in it. Since I couldn't make sure every dream I had was a lucid one, it took me nearly half a month to complete it. At last, I found the internal logic in these dreams: Each pair was a unique giirl. The grey solid-color one, for example, was a 28-year-old secretary; The white stripe one was a white-hair JK girl; The dark blue one was a diving instructor… They had various characteristics, and I couldn't tell whether it was my fortune or not. "If briefs do cause wet dreams, it will be solved if I don't wear them." I tested this idea and found the result satisfactory. I recovered my long-lost good sleep.
It just lasted four days until I had the familiar dream again in the fifth day, in which I lay beside several girls of various faces and ages, who asked me for the reason of my absence. In their constant questions and physical contact of love, my voice and struggle was weaker and weaker, slowly drowned in their bodies. They were greedy to taste every inch of my body, while my breath was weaker and weaker.
I woke up suddenly, and the sheet was soaked in cold sweat. I looked at the wall of my bedroom and exclaimed that it was just a dream. Before I could settled down. the dotted briefs made me gasp in horror. How did they come out? I immediately turned to the closet, only to find the drawer for briefs open, though it was apparently closed before I went to sleep. I looked at the open drawer and briefs, sitting in bed for a long time.
The next morning, I was cleaning them on the balcony as usual. When taking them out of the blanket, I felt something unusual. After flattening them, I found a fist-sized swelling on the front of each pair. It was soft, and I could slightly feel its internal delamination. The four corners of briefs were slightly stretched out, as if they were showing their changes. If briefs were girls…
I must have made them pregnant.
I subconsciously stepped back, seeing the neatly arranged briefs, with greater fear in my mind. Though I gradually accepted the fact that briefs loved me and were such pursuers, I failed to anticipate such a worse situation. Who could accept it immediately when he was a common virgin employee that suddenly became the husband of his several pairs of briefs? I destroyed all my briefs like a nut, tearing, burning, scissoring. After that, I felt such a sense of relief that I couldn't tell if it was a freedom from an agonizing incubus or just a release of stress. I put the remains and stones into the garbage bag and threw them into the nearest lake from home. "Maybe it can be called a water burial." I saw the sinking bag, saying goodbye subconsciously.
I still didn't have a good sleep that night. I tossed and turned in the bed for the whole night, and it was long before I calmed down. If the cloth really had its own life and consciousness, what was the difference between my action and murder? Guilt was slowly flooding my body like the rising tide of lake water. I put on my clothes and went back to the lake. Looking at the pale moonlight and the shining lake, I was speechless. I couldn't even tell myself whether what brought me here was my fear or sadness.
A few months later, my life was back on track, without previous exhaustion and uneasiness. After all these things, I was more optimistic to face the beautiful world now. A year later, I had my first girlfriend in my life.
On the night of my bachelor party, I got a bit drunk, falling on my bed after being sent home by friends. I fell asleep with the fantasy of my romantic companion like the moonlight.
The dim moonlight shone into the pavilion beside the lake, which was so calm as if it had never been broken. I sat on the stone steps and stared at the extinguished streetlights. Suddenly a pair of wet arms gently encircled me. I tried to look back, but the familiar fragrance of lavender scared me out of doing so.
"Why did you leave me like this, Goshujin-sama… We used to be so sweet. We used to shop and work together. I have changed so much for you, but why did you leave for another? It was me who came first," she sobbed in my ear, with blood flowing out of the ugly scars on her small arms, soaking into my shirt with lake water, and turning it peach. "Was it because of convention…"
I realized that things were doomed to be irreparable. When I was about to reply, more arms reached my body, with burns, with chemical burns, torn and pulled out of shape. Looking at these hands, I couldn't tell whether I had fear or pity. I was dragged to the edge of the pavilion and fell heavily into the lake.
I woke up from my dream, not in my bed but in the lake. I struggled hard, but the cloth on my body tightly tied me to the stone. In the low light, I saw the cloth strips sewn by my briefs' fragments. I raised my head, looked at the pale moonlight through the lake, and closed my eyes.
Maybe if so
Maybe if so
I would be with them forever
Goshujin-sama would be with us forever