LAPLACE TRANSFORM I can't help wondering what it would be like having sex with a man. Gina and I have a stable and loving relationship. We've been together a couple of years now, and the sex is still pretty good. Otherwise we get along quite well, except for occasional arguments about money. Last night we were making love. She was on her hands and knees, and I had my dick deep in her pussy and was reaching around rubbing her clit. At that very intense moment, just starting to spiral upward toward orgasm, I began imagining what it would feel like as a gay man, with a dick deep up my ass, plunging in and out. This powerful fantasy took possession of me and I exploded in mind-shattering ecstasy. Everyone who knows me considers me the quintessential straight man, as hetero as they come. But I have these unfulfilled needs. And strange dreams . . . I can't help wondering what it would be like having sex with a woman. Gene and I have a stable and loving relationship. We've been together a couple of years now, and the sex is still pretty good. Otherwise we get along quite well, except for occasional arguments about money. Last night we were making love. I was on my hands and knees, and he had his dick deep in my ass and was reaching around rubbing my dick. At that very intense moment, just starting to spiral upward toward orgasm, I began imagining what it would feel like as a straight man, with my dick deep up a woman's pussy, plunging in and out. This powerful fantasy took possession of me and I exploded and I exploded in mind-shattering ecstasy. Everyone who knows me considers me as the quintessential gay man, as queer as they come. But I have these unfulfilled needs. And strange dreams . . . There is a class of differential equations that yield to what is known as a "Laplace Transform." This essentially means shifting things into a drastically different context, where the kinks and complexities of the problem in question unravel and simplify. Then it's just a matter of flipping the solution back to the original context. Think of it as temporarily visiting a different framework, with a different set of rules. Rules that permit doing and making impossible things . . . impossible in your home universe, that is. Now if only you could bring a few of those impossible things back . . . I caught a glance of myself in the mirror yesterday. For a split-second I thought my eyes had changed color. My blue eyes turned gray? No! It must have been my imagination. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror yesterday. For a split-second I thought my eyes had changed color. My gray eyes turned blue? No! It must have been my imagination. I dreamed. I dreamed I had a male lover next to me in bed (I wonder what Gina would think of *that*?). I dreamed he was softly stroking my ass, then probing with a gentle finger between my cheeks. Gently inserting the finger into me a little way. It was heating me up. There was a deep trembling within me as the tension built up inside. My dick was hard, rock hard. Now he was massaging slippery coldness onto my . . . opening . . . hole . . . asshole. I ached for him. I wanted, I needed him to fill me. Then I felt the warmth of a hand softly stroking my ass, and I awakened next to . . . . . . a stranger. I dreamed. I dreamed I had a female lover next to me in bed (I wonder what Gene would think of *that*?). I dreamed she was softly stroking my dick . . . and . . . and . . . I awakened next to a stranger. It was a woman! A *woman*! I must have screamed aloud in terror, because she was trying to hug me. To comfort me? "You must have had a nightmare, darling. It'll be all right. Let me hold you." I recoiled in horror. What was this WOMAN, this NAKED WOMAN doing here in my home? IN MY BED! Where was Gene? I grabbed my pants and ran. How could I let myself be driven out of my own home? Who was that woman? Damn it, I *knew* who she was. It was the woman I'd dreamed about. The one I'd been making love to in a dream. But I was awake now and this was real! Wasn't it? Who was this MAN beside me? He had his hands on my ass! I must still be dreaming! This was the guy from my dreams. Well, no reason to get particularly upset. If this were still a dream, might as well enjoy it. I *was*, after all, curious about gay sex. Dreaming about it had aroused strangely powerful feelings in me. What would it be like to be the one fucked? Having a man's dick inside my ass -- what would it feel like? Would it hurt? Could I possibly get pleasure from it? Well, here I was with a man's hand on my ass and a raging hardon. What the hell, it was only a dream. It didn't hurt at all. The guy somehow opened me up with his fingers and patiently helped me relax when I tensed up. Releasing sphincter tension is surprisingly easy . . . if you have a knowing lover to show you how. He used plenty of lube, and that helped him slide right in. Actually, I have to admit I rather enjoyed it. After a while my imagination took over, and I was thinking this must be how Gina feels with my dick plunging in and out of her pussy. . . filling her. Filling ME. Damn, I liked being filled. The stretched open feeling. The sliding friction. Then the fulfillment with its shuddering release and the oceanic, free-floating cosmic feeling. It was quite a bit more intense than being on the other side. Other side? I'm starting to think maybe this isn't a dream. I'm fully awake now. These eggs sure taste real. The sausage is quite spicy. I'm sitting at the breakfast table with this stranger. His name is Gene and he knows me. He's been my lover for several years now, he says. My strange behavior when I awoke disturbed him a little, but then I've been acting weird for a couple of weeks now in the morning right after waking up. He's a pretty fair cook. Come to think of it, Gene looks vaguely familiar. Temperamentally, he's like a male version of Gina. He even resembles her physically in very disconcerting ways. They could have been twins, actually. And yes, it seems to me I've been dreaming about him for some time now. I guess I've somehow crossed over. Crossed over into a dream. A dream world. I'm back home now, sitting at the kitchen table calmly discussing the matter with Gina. She reminds me of Gene in some ways, and yes, she's been haunting my dreams. For a woman, she's not too bad. I could get used to her. I suppose. Of course she knows about the strange dreams I'd been having. My other self, previous inhabitant of this body, had been confiding in her. She thinks I'm under the influence of a powerful delusion, but she's willing to humor me. Her *love* for me (or the person I'm the impostor of) will heal me. So she thinks. She can cook every bit as well as Gene. Eggs and sausage, ah. Gene thinks I'm crazy. But he says it's that wild and crazy streak that attracted him to "me" in the first place. That and my fine, tight little buns. Those fine, tight little buns he had fucked just a few minutes ago. We were listening to the news over breakfast. The radio was a huge wooden console that looked like the sets people used to have sixty or seventy years ago. It took a minute before any sound came out. Since when did radios need to warm up? Then it dawned on me. This was a tube model radio! Vacuum tubes. Did Gene collect antique radios? Nope, this was a current model, only a year old. Tubes? Of course. Every radio had them, even the experimental televiewers being talked about. Televiewers? Did he mean televisions? Experimental? So, this world, this particular universe didn't have solid state electronics. No transistors. No integrated circuits. Only very slow and bulky primitive computers. No lasers. No miniaturized electronic devices. It was like 1950 again. But with one very important difference. The biological and medical sciences here seemed far ahead of the world I knew. There was a remedy for the common cold. For that matter, there was an effective vaccine for virtually every infectious disease. AIDS? You could buy the *cure* for that over the counter at the corner drugstore (a single dose of Volny-Ristock virophages knocked it out quite nicely). Overpopulation? Male birth control pills were making a significant dent in that particular problem. Old age? Effective aging retardants were in the pipeline. Scientists expected the average life span to reach 150 years eventually. There were some definite benefits to being in this world. Gina thinks I'm crazy. But she says it's that wild and crazy streak that attracted her to "me" in the first place. That and my fine, tight little buns. Those fine, tight little buns she'd no doubt like to fondle as I make love to her. Make love to her, hmmm, now there's a thought. For a woman, she's actually pretty special. It wasn't as bad as I expected. When I panicked, just getting ready to put myself into her, she took me in her arms, cradled my head on her breasts, and just rocked me. It was like being a baby again. Warm and soft and comforting. I must have fallen asleep for a few minutes because she awakened me with a soft kiss. My hardon was back. This time I got it into her. Inside, she felt nice and slick and warm. Sort of like being inside Gene's ass on those rare occasions when he felt like bottoming. I could easily get used to this. Very easily. She's a good cook. The eggs were just the way I like them, soft and buttery, with no hint of salt. Then she turned on the news and I almost fell out of my chair. It was a tiny moving picture viewer. I'd heard of experimental televiewers, but this one was small enough to hold in the palm of my hand. When I got over my shock, I began listening to what the news announcer -- "anchorman," Gina called him -- had to say. Something about an AIDS epidemic. AIDS? It couldn't be. You could buy a vial of pills at the corner drugstore that would completely cure you of that in a week. Don't even need a prescription. In my own world, that is. But here? I still can't believe it. They've got all sorts of electronic marvels here. Gina showed me something called a "laptop computer" that's *way* beyond any of the big monster calculating machines I've ever heard of. And she had bought it for the equivalent of a week's wages! That little toy is thousands of times more powerful than anything available in the best research labs in my home universe. Just think of the possibilities. The biological sciences, though, are primitive here. Infectious diseases. Cancer. Catching colds, the flu, and getting cavities in your teeth. Worrying about getting infected with something nasty every time you have sex without a rubber sheath. The population problem. Going gray at 50 and dying of old age in your 80's. For all its advanced technology, this place is a hellhole. Wait a minute! I may not be a physician, but I do know something about medicine. Enough to give the people here important clues toward a few crucial discoveries. That could mean wealth. Fame. Maybe a Nobel Prize or two. Certainly a more livable world. Through a friend of Gene's, I managed to wangle an interview with an engineering v.p. at Bell Telephone. The word "transistor" didn't ring a bell with him, but he had heard of the Shockley-Bardeen experiments. "Yep, Bill Shockley did some work here just after the war. He was fooling around with crystals and what he called 'semi-conductors.' Too bad about the fire in his lab that ruined all his work. He just lost heart after that and took to drinking. We had to let him go. Last anyone heard he had gone into show biz. Became a talk show host or something along that line." When I enquired about pursuing that line of research, I hit a stone wall. "Nope. We're not interested. Vacuum tube components work well enough for our purposes. There's just no prestige in lab work in electronics. All the bright boys want to go into bio research nowadays. That's where all the grant money's flowing." I'm completely stymied. There go all my dreams of fame and wealth. I have *had* it with this world. I want to go home. Home! Gina had a sister-in-law who just happened to know a vice president of a major pharmaceutical firm. Dr. Williston graciously accepted our dinner invitation. "Don't bother with titles. Just call me Bill. Yes, you have some intriguing ideas about anti-viral agents. I'd have to advise you to back off, though. You just don't have the right background to make a contribution in the field. Nowadays in pharmacology . . . and medicine and biology for that matter, credentials and connections and how many papers you've published mean everything. Everything. Even if you had a stroke of genius, no one would listen. Forget it." I'm completely stymied. There go all my dreams of fame and wealth. I have *had* it with this world. I want to go home. Home! I dreamed. I dreamed I was in back in my own world. Back in bed with my own Gina, my lover. Then my eyes opened. I dreamed. I dreamed I was in back in my own world. Back in bed with my own Gene, my lover. Then my eyes opened. I awakened next to Gina, my woman. Was the whole thing just a dream? Gene, and getting fucked in the ass, and the cure for AIDS? Did it really matter? I had learned quite a bit about myself. Gina held me at arm's length and gave me a strange look. Then she hugged me and cried. "You! I'll never let you go." I realize now how much I love her. I awakened next to Gene, my man. Was the whole thing just a dream? Gina, and fucking a woman's vagina, and portable computers? Did it really matter? I had learned quite a bit about myself. Gene held me at arm's length and gave me a strange look. Then he hugged me and cried. "You! I'll never let you go." I realize now how much I love him.