You ponder and start to head for home

The soft morning light falls over the trail, the park, the train tracks around you. You stand there, gazing off into the distance for a long moment. Just trying to collect your thoughts and put all the pieces of what just transpired together into a cohesive picture, a memory for the ages.

The jogger. Underneath you, her half closed eyes begging you to take her, her supple body willing you on. She was soft to the touch but firm in all the right ways. Man was she hot.

“I didn’t even get her name,” you comment to yourself, a sly smile on your face, scratching your head.

You do your best to commit her to memory. Twenty six years old. Dyed blonde hair. Cute ass. Tight pussy.

Ovulating.

You suck in a breath.

You suddenly feel dizzy, your legs weak underneath you, and try to breathe slowly in and out of your mouth. You feel hungry. You definitely saw an egg. Definitely her egg. You don’t know for sure how, but you saw it.

“But she said today’s safe, though?” you say to yourself, your weak legs moving of their own accord for home back down the trail the way that you came. She said today was safe, but you saw her egg! You saw your millions upon millions of swimmers closing in on it too! Part of you wants to believe her, just so that you can discount all that third eye business as a incredibly detailed hallucination caused by the obvious near-**** experience of nutting buckets three times in quick succession.

But that being said, somehow you know that that was no hallucination. You felt, sensed too much about her for that just to be the product of your orgasm shaken mind.

Plus, you focus and you can feel the “vision” of your third eye again, blurry and nearsighted. You close your other eyes and sure enough you can still navigate if barely, watching yourself walk, looking and “seeing” yourself from all angles, and frowning.

“Damn,” you huff, and brush the accumulated dirt and twigs from the legs and ass of your sweatpants. Well that certainly is what you get for fucking out of doors. You click your teeth, very aware you’ve got quite the pile of laundry to do once you get back to your dorm.

But, you sigh, that means it’s for real. That you “saw” her egg. That you “saw” your sperm closing in on it.

You gulp, walking a little faster at the thought of what just happened. You feel your lips curling down into a frown as you stare off into the distance down the trail.

You realize that you might have done something monumental, blowing not one, not two, but three thick virile loads inside her, without even pausing to consider the consequences.

“Consequences,” you repeat out loud to yourself. Your mind flashes back to fifth grade sex education class, eighth grade life sciences, high school biology; fertilization is when the egg and sperm meet. This usually happens in the woman’s fallopian tubes.

You run your hands through your hair again, blowing out a breath from your mouth. You can feel your blood pressure rising at the thought. You didn’t “see” the moment when your swimmers met her egg, if they even did, but they were definitely in the process of closing in for the final ****, that much was obvious. Closing in, swarming it, just as your sight faltered and you separated.

“And she doesn’t even know,” you chuckle dryly. She thinks today’s a safe day. Oh boy. She didn’t even know how much danger she was in letting you empty your balls in her repeatedly. And you, in your infinite wisdom, did not say anything to the contrary. Even though you knew differently. That you just sat there, and let her think, cum dripping from her pussy, egg being swarmed by your swimmers, that nothing was amiss.

“Excuse me ma’am, I just opened my third eye so I can tell you’re actually ovulating right now,” you say out loud, “yeah, that sounds completely unhinged even now,” and sigh. You could not see yourself explaining to a woman, one that you sort of just ran into and screwed silly, that you had these powers.

That you were tasked with getting sparks, to use Vernius’s phrase. That she wanted pregnancies, wanted new life brought forth in her name. Which, you concede, you very well might have done, more by instinct then intention, with that woman just minutes ago. You imagine her, belly big and round with child, and feel your cock throb from its position stuck under the waistband of your sweatpants. At least she did say that she was going to get Plan B, though, that had to count for something, right?

You sigh again and do your best to put it out of sight and out of mind. You walk quietly back through the park, over the creek, and back onto the Poly State campus. You see the same abandoned couch, puke, cigarette butts, and empty bottles and cans you saw on your walk out. Somehow it makes you feel better that you’re not the only one out here making potentially foolish decisions.

Despite the sun being much higher in the sky, the campus is basically deserted, except for some preppy looking college students that pass you by headed the other direction, a gaggle of well dressed and groomed women and men chattering among themselves. They don’t even bother to look at you as they approach, engrossed in their own conversation. Not that you can blame them, you certainly look like you ran a marathon and got dragged through the dirt.

As you pass them though, colors flash across your third eye. Gray. Pink. Light gray. You catch the scent of fresh fruit again, but also other smells too. Something medicinal like a cleaner, or disinfectant, one stronger and one weaker. Synapse cross and connect in your mind. Suppression. Contraceptive. You glance back for a moment, catching one of the women looking back at you for half a second before returning to her conversation with her preppy friends. You try to reach out to her with your third eye, but again, anything beyond your immediate person is murky and distant, nevermind the preppy girl and her quickly retreating friends.

You rub your head as you keep walking, not sure what to make of this new, awkward power of perception.

You walk back through town as it begins to wake up on a Saturday morning, businesses opening, outdoor dining being set up, signage being set out on street corners.

You walk by your neighborhood convenience store and feel your stomach rumble. You pause, staring through the glass, considering stopping in for a quick snack for the rest of your albeit short walk home. You feel your pockets. No cash. No phone for that matter. Just your dorm keys. You gaze longingly at the hot dog warmer at the register for a moment, then notice that the cashier is staring back at you, this weirdo standing outside a convenience store making eyes at the hotdog warmer, and you hot foot it out of there.

Shortly you are at your apartment complex again, walking in, past the picnic tables, and then up to your dorm door, and let yourself in.