I enter into a sleep-induced dream.

After my eyelid close as if there were slabs of stone hanging from them, I stare into the blackness of sleep. It seems that my mind is still awake, but my body is resting. It seems as though I've entered into the dream world. I've heard of these kinds of dreams where you the dreamer can manipulate the world around him or herself but can't leave the dream world by sheer will. Instead as a image fades in, I find that I'm in the world of not dreams but memories.

Dr. Holden checks my vital signs on the monitor and determines whether or not I'm awake. He says, "Asleep," under his breath as if he doesn't the other in the room to know. He goes back to his computer and quickly types a sequence or a function that brings up a program that doesn't look like any found in the present world. As fiber optic light travels from the apparatus on my head alond a wire connected to the computer, various images appear on the screen.

On the current screen, the program looks to have two rows with images on it. It may resemble a slideshow of some kind, but the images are unorganized yet seemingly clear, as if you know what happens in the image. On the top row, are images of a man who was nerdy, picked on, bullied on, and wasn't the cream of the crop in the world's standards. On the bottom row, more organized than the top row, images of womans life is strewn out in the order of age. As the doctor scrolls horizontally from left to right and then left again, nineteen images show. That meaning that the doctor has amazingly fabricated images and possibly life experiences in this program. The doctor takes a deep breath and clicks an image on the top row.

Finding myself in the darkness of having my eyes close is one thing. Enter a memory that could might as well be forgotten is another. I find myself fading into this memory. The scene unfolds in an emergency room and I'm in a third-person view. The scene is that of a pregnancy ending and new life beginning. The subject is a beautiful yet constrained woman pushing with all her might to gain the reward she has endured nine months for. I feel like one of the nurses present looking at each persons' face covered by the typical cloth over the mouth and the head covered in a green medical cap for keeping the hair out of the workspace. I see one other person in the surrounding crowd. He leans in close to the mother's ear and I deduce that he is the father. He seems prettyold to be the father since the mother is beautifully young for her age. He has graying hairs along the side of his head even though his hair is thick along the top of his head. He is seen encouraging the mother to stay strong and push with all her might.

The scene unfolds as the mother makes another big push which at last is the end of her current ordeal. Her prize waits for her in between her legs. In a mess of broken water and blood, a baby with its umbilical cord attached to its belly is lifted in the vision of the mother. The strain and the pain shown on the mother's face changes to a bright smile and pure joy and happiness. The father's face changes as well giving encouraging words into the ears of the mother. When the scene started everything in the room that had a sound incorporated with it was muffled. The sounds of the room and the voice of all the doctors and nurse were muffled. The voices of the mother and father were muffled as well.

It is when the baby is shown that the sounds become clear and the muffling is gone. A single phrase said by the father to the mother hits me directly. "There he is Mama. It's your baby Allen!" the father excited says in whisper into the ear of the mother. I don't remember it fully but this scene is the birth of my male body and the male mind into it.

Dr. Holden clicks his mouse and types away at his computer, erasing the top image and highlighting the bottom image, which in a way looks like the top image. The fiber optic cables connecting the apparatus on my head to the computer changes. Instead of light travel from the apparatus, light turns its flow and starts traveling from the computer to the apparatus.

Once the name "Allen" is spoken, the scene freezes and disappears, with another scene enveloping it. The new scene flashes into focus into my eyes and the audio incorporated with it fades in after. From a room of four including a mother and father in the center, the scene changes into a smaller room with a doctor and nurse tending to the needs of the father and mother.

The father and mother are indeed different from the ones from the first scene. The only thing similar is the age difference between the father and mother. In the first scene, the father looked much older than the mother, probably around the age of forty. This is shown in his rough facial skin and the graying hair on the the side of his head. The father looked too old to be a beginning mother but she was much younger than the father. As seen in her facial expressions and the way the facial skin moved, she could have been around the age of thirty.

The major difference between the two couples could have been the fact that the second couple had an interracial relationship. The first couple looked like your typical-looking American couple. The second couple consists of an older Englishman, due to his accent as he spoke into the ear of the mother, and a young Eastern Asian woman, although hearing her voice would seem that she was born in the United States.

The couple couldn't wait for the reward that they would nine months for. Their impatience seemed to rush the scene and all the actions of the doctor and nurse seem to quicken as if someone had pushed fast forward. The scene slowed to the point where a pop could be heard, although like a subtle sound in the chaotic room. A head pops out from the area between the mother's legs and no sooner does the rest of the body pops out behind it. The nurse is caught off guard but she manages to catch the baby and keep it from falling to the floor. Fortunately, only water from the uterus and blood seep onto the floor.

The couple awaits the outcome of the final push. The nurse's cap is seen rising from in between the mother's legs and her face after. The shoulder enter in the sight of the mother as well as the arms carrying a small and tiny little person in it. The face of the baby is zoomed into the face of the mother and the pain shown on the mother's face dramatically changes from a tired frown to a radiant smile. The face of the foreigner father radiates as well but not as shining as the mother. The father takes this moment as the baby is in their gaze to whisper into the ear of the mother the baby's name, "Marianne."

At a moment's notice, using concentration and quick thinking, Dr. Holden uses the current image and covers the top image with it. He goes on to the next pair of images but instead of working on it, he inputs a sequence and the program automatically formulates the rest of the images. It is like the first images were a test and the rest will be worked on in regards to the first test, since it was so successful.

When the audio stops at the name "Marianne," the scene stops as well. The scene fades out but when it does dozens and dozens of images fade in and rush in like the morning rush hour on the highway. They move so fast that it's hard to tell which scene from which. But as the images flash before me, my mind is told that it can remember bits and pieces of information, and can piece them together like a puzzle, forming some sort of profile. The profile that is fabricated within my time in my sleep can be listed as follows:

My name is Marianne Carpo. I am the youngest daughter of Edward Carpo and Karen Valeri. I have an older sister whose name is Sasha Carpo. Currently I am 19 years of age. My date of birth is September 16, 2009 and the current date is May 22, 2027.

I currently live in New Denali. So does my sister but she lives in another part of the Ventura Heights District. I used to live elsewhere. When I mean elsewhere, I mean overseas. I used to live in London with my mother but a great deal of drama happened that landed me right here in this city. I was in London since I could remember, probably around the age of 4 or 5. My mother says that I was born in London when she was married to a Englishman much older than her. My sister, Sasha, was born in America, where my mother was originally but married and then divorced by an Caucasian man. This is why me and my sister only have the features of my mother.

I can vaguely remember my childhood. My memories can go as far as the age of 4 but are more clear around the age of 14. I remember being in a rich, but not "royalty" rich family. My father was a businessman who married my mother within four weeks of her arrival in London. My mother says she came to London to seek a new life, and in my father, she found it. They married right away and quickly had plans to make another baby. Nine months later, I came into the picture and I was the star of the show. Not to disrespect my sister though, she had equal attention from my parents.

Around the age of 6, I began attending grade school. But unlike American with its coed schools, I was entered into an all-girls school. My sister, five years older than me, entered into the 5th grade at the same K-5, all-girl, grade school. We both became popular within the first week and were blessed with academic merits and awards. After graduating kindergarten and moving on to first grade, my sister, Sasha, had to transfer to another all girl, private school to continue her learning.

When I got to the seventh grade in the junior private boarding school my sister formerly attended, my sister was a senior in a renowned private boarding school for upperclassmen acheiving more awards and obtaining scholarships for college. But she would refuse to get them for her dream was to go back to America and study there.

Entering the eighth grade, I witness my sister gladly pack her bags and fly west towards America but with good wishes and loving kisses to the family. My father was the most upset of all compared to my mother and I, who were excited for Sasha. My father, after two weeks of sympathy and comforting by me and my mother, ignored the pain and continued with the family he had now. But by keeping the pain packed down over the years would soon deteriorate my father dignity.

I didn't know the deal why my father had so much attachment to my sister, Sasha, but it would soon come to light during the summer five years later. I had turned 18 in the early spring, and I had a good party to celebrate it. I wasn't fully happy because my father wasn't present due to a long business trip in another country of Europe. But my spirits lifted when he suddenly came home a week before graduation. He was surprised to see that I had stayed the smart and talented little girl in his life.

Little is quite ironic though, seeing that the mixed blood of my Filipino mother and my English father had produced a beautiful body of mine. I wasn't short as I was seven years ago. I had grew taller than my mother by two inches, and she was at least 5' 2", given that she was pure Asian. But I couldn't surpass the height of my broad-shouldered father. He was a good deal taller than me still, but now he doesn't have to look directly to the floor to see me.

The summer came with a wave of heat and the locals shedding their spring clothing into summer clothing. The heat wave was more humid than last year, and it still gets beads of sweat upon my skin to form, but more quicker. The day I found out why my sister, Sasha, left was the day my mother was out on an errand. It was a good thing for my father to be home, since he longed for more time to spend time with me. And since the summer was his vacation, he had all the time in the world. Unfortunately for me, on this day, I wished my father was still on his business trips, miles away.

It was another hot day. I would wake up in the morning with sweat saturating my skin and the sweat being absorbed into my clothing, making look I took a splash in the backyard pool with my clothes on. On a hot day like this, my long, dark brown hair was pain, absorbing the heat from outside since the window was open. My hair would constantly cling to my skin and clothes and be a bother to me every minute. I challenged this by taking a huge clip and clumping my hair and clipping it so it would stay up. Even though some strands of hair kept escaping the grasp of the clip, most stayed up and it wasn't a bother to me at all.

I had woken up early due to the heat making me toss and turn in the night and pulling the covers, thin as they are, off my body. Occasionally, I would wake up in the middle of the night and I would feel like I was being watched in my slumber. It felt like eyes, voyeuristic eyes were upon my matured body and admiring it. I tried to go to sleep but the thought of being watched gave my body pleasure. It also felt like the eyes attached to the ghoul watching me gave the voyeur pleasure as well.

But enough of my weird stuff and back to the ordeal I am soon going to face. As I wake up and get out of bed, I hear my name being called from down the hall. Being in a big house means that you have to go through time that you are listening to echoes bouncing of the walls. And for the house having some many passageways and solid walls and walls, my name echoes outside of my room. I exit my room and find that my father is calling my name from his room, all the way down the hall. I walk down the lengthy hallway along the hardwood floors towards the open door of my father's room.

I get to the door and I enter into the room. I see my father sitting down on the end of his bed. It seems he has woken up as well due to his black and graying hair ruffled in a bedhead hairstyle. And due to the hot weather, my father wears no shirt upon his torso, exposing the well-toned and muscled chest of his. He also wears short, but baggy, white shorts. Since I turned 18 and the summer has gotten really hot, I have gotten used to my father like this.

He tells me to sit next to him on the bed and I do so like a daughter would. I sit next to him with no suspicion and with overly admiration of my father. I am although curious of why he is calling me so early in the morning. He tells me that he's sorry for missing my birthday celebrate but he says that he remembered when he was on his trip. He said he went to a jewelers and found an exquisite piece in one of the glass showcases.

At this point, when he says the words "jewelers, exquisite, showcases", I jump for joy in my mind. This is what an 18-year-old girl would want to hear on her birthday. I get all excited but try to hide it inside me. This is when he reaches over to the pillow and inserts his hand under one of them. He pulls out a black and gold jewelry box that was the size of a Rubik's cube. He opens it and I see glaring at me, glittering in its glory, a diamond necklace with diamonds encrusted along the entire surface of the piece.

At once he places it in my hands and I reply with a loving hug that I try to squeeze my father's body with. I try to embraced him with all my might but I don't have the strength to do it. I give up hugging him hard and peck a kiss upon his cheek. I wish I hadn't done that though. When I kiss my father on the cheek, he turns his head around so that he can get intimate kisses upon my glistening skin of my neck. Feeling the unfamiliar touch I push him away but his grasp is already on me before I can get away. I feel his large, warm hands upon me, and holding me in intimate places. His left hand tightly holds my right shoulder pulling me towards him so that his overly intimate actions won't be disturbed. His right hand holds my upper left arm, around where the shoulder socket would be, and use this grasp to secure my body near him.

I cry at the sudden change of attitude and the change of gentle to rough. I plead with my father to stop but he doesn't listen. He keeps on kissing my neck like he would a lover, but I'm disgusted that he is doing this to his own daughter. I try to push him away once more and this time he hurls me onto the bed, onto the sheets that are still unmade. The intimate action is turned up as the kissing on the neck changes into kissing onto the lips directly. I feel like suffocating as my father kisses me on the lips with his tongue occasionally entering my mouth as he continues. Not only his mouth is preventing me from breathing, but his sheer body weight atop my smaller female body makes me gasp for breath. I could feel under his shorts a hard, warm object that could well as be his penis. My arms would have instinctively start trying to continue pushing my father away, but he goes to the point of taking both my hands and bonding them against the bed away from my head. He holds my wrists down and together with his left hand while his right hand is free to do other things.

Among the other things his right hand can do is undress me. At this time, I had a white tee shirt and a black pair of mini shorts. With his right hand, my father quickly slides up my white top so that is bunches up around my armpits and reveals my bikini top, which is colored blue and white and styled in stripes. He doesn't stop there though. My father continues to remove my bikini top. He reveal one breast at a time and uses his right index finger and thumb to twist each nipple and get me flinching to the unfamiliar sensations. Continuing, my father's right hand travels from my breast to my waist. In a quick movemnt, his hand slides under both my shorts and panty and stops where my vagina is. All the sensation now are amped up when my father starts to do his business down under.

Up to this point, I try with all my strength and might to escape from my father's clutches. But when my father inserts a couple fingers into my clit, all the sensations I feel through my body are multiplied by five and my attempts at escaping are halted. Now I'm left to feel every single pleasure against my will. My mind know what's happening and it can't take it. But my body goes into autopilot. My body, instead of fighting against my father's body, seems to comform to the movement of his body and replying with instinctive motions. The roughness of my father's actions seem to get gentler and gentler as my body responds to his.

My father's fingers are busy rotating, stretching, rubbing, pushing in and out of my pussy and giving my body the time of its life. Under his massive body, my back suddenly arches and pushes my pussy onto my father hand which flinches to my body's response. My father's hand now leaves my pussy and slide out from under my shorts. With his sheer strength, he moves me from my back onto my stomach. He takes my wrist again and binds them with his large hand but placing them behind my back. This make my head rest on the bed and my head turned to the side, to keep breathing. My father lifts my lower body upward so that my knees are sitting bent on the bed and my butt is pointing upward. My father wastes no time in removing both my shorts and panties and letting them rest at my knees.

The penis of my father is reveal in the corner of my eye and second later I feel the feeling of something large in my pussy. The initial push is hard and stretching. Once my pussy is completely filled with the slow pushes of my father's penis, I take slow deep breath as I try to ride it out. But no sooner does my father's roughness returns and the connection between my body and my mind is remade, sending a cry into my mind which travels out of my mouth. A screech of a shout echoes into the room and out the door which could travel to someones ear due to the resonance. This turns the tables into my advantage because my mother actually hears me cry and darts to the origin of the sound.

My mother bursts into the room and sees her husband roughly **** their daughter. I can tell that she is shocked to see her daughter bound and **** to fuck against her will and that blood and vaginal juices mix and flow down from my pussy and down onto the white bed, staining it. In my mother's hand is her cell phone and she has quickly dialed and contacted the police.

Seeing that my mother has interrupted his enjoyment of his daughter's pleasurable body, my father pulls his penis out of my pussy and walks towards my mother. My body slumps down on its side and I can see the scene brewing near the doorway of the master bedroom's door. My mother backs away from the approaching nakedness of my father but she stops when her back runs into wall. She turns around to find the wall blocking her way giving my father the oppurtunity to pull my mother's wrist behind her and binding them in a way similar to the way he bound my wrists together. My mother chest is thrusted into wall and her butt sticking out. She unfortunately had to wear a plaid skirt similar to a schoolgirl's mini-skirt. With my eyelids becoming heavy, I can set my eyes on the action that my father initiates.

My father's left hand bind the wrist behind my mother's back while his right hand lifts the skirt up and reveals the white cotton panties my mother is wearing. He pulls them down and reveals the tender pussy and asshole of my mother's lower body. With a thrust that looks more rougher than the one that broke me, my father pushes his penis into my mother's pussy, making her scream louder than I did.

My eyes start to close as I hear sirens in the background. I don't remember dreaming of anything so I wake up. I wake up to find out that I have slept fot at least 8 hours and I find I'm in a hospital bed with sores between my legs. Unfortunately, a sore vagina isn't the only bad news. Due to my father **** my mother, she lays in a bed similar to mine but in intensive care. My father forcing my mother to have sex has put unbelievable strain both on her physical and mental strengths.

After spending two weeks in the hospital being treated, I know why my sister Sasha left and it was because of my father treating her like this. The doctors' at the hospital tell me that my mother will be spending a little bit more time being treated because her injuries are more than mine. My mind can't comprehend the facts and I make a decision that my sister made five years ago.

I decide to go back home, pack my things, and leave for America. It's the one place I'm most comfortable in going, even though once I arrive there everything will be unfamiliar to me. But it will get more comfortable once I stay there since it's just another country. Leaving for America for me is better than having somebody fuck the lights out of you.

London has been my home for 18 years but America has been as place of rest as well. I remember starting from the time Sasha left for America, in the summer in the year after, my mother would let me visit my sister every year for five years. I can assume that this annoyed my father and contributed to his madman attitude when he would come home in the middle of summer and not find his daughter at home waiting for him. Fortunately for me, during the summer I've built a strong relationship to my sister.

So the week after my leave from the hospital, I wait at an airport terminal for my flight to depart. All my bags have clothes that would have crowded my closets at my house. Now they lie in wait in the storage compartment of the plane sitting idle in the terminal. When I get on the place and leave for Florida, only one person knows about my going away. My father obviously doesn't know because he was convicted for **** and **** with another count for **** with a deadly weapon against a police officer. My mother doesn't know because she lies in bed in intensive care to recover. Only my sister, who tells me she lives in New Denali on the western part of America, knows that I'm leaving London for good.