Supernatural Incidents: Aldo

Amateur weekend race-car co-driver for hire, Aldo Proudfoot, was driving his Porsche 911 bi-turbo Cabriolet at full-throttle at 3 am in his country's only Super Highway Grade 1.

That first stretch of grade 1 super highway had no maximum speed restrictions, although there was a slow speed restriction of 75 mph minimum.

Vehicles travelling at slower than 75 mph were liable to be seized by the authorities and immediately crushed for cartage to a recycling depot, the policy being introduced by the lawmakers, 'Let's Keep Our Country Moving'.

It was assumed that drivers who crash at super speeds would have crushed their vehicle anyway.

It was further assumed that road rage drivers would travel on lower maximum speed highways to be more likely to catch victims as would suicidal-gripped motorist who'd wish to have sufficient remains identifiable so that their exit from this world would not pass unnoticed.

Aldo was driving at a steady 190 mph (307 kph) when his inner voice commanded, "Slow immediately to 80 mph and pull off this highway at the first opportunity. If you don't, your car will spin out of control in Witherspoon Tunnel and your obituary will be published with our compliments."

Playboy Proudfoot laughed and called it aloud, "That's a mind-bending prank."

Inexplicable, his car-steering delivered a slight speed shimmy.

"Fucking hell," Aldo muttered and slowed to 135 mph.

The speed shimmying stopped.

He shrugged and accelerated and the inner-voiced said, only one word and sneering, 'Idiot'.

Aldo began sweating as he fought to control the vehicle already at 173 mph. He slowed steadily to 80 mph, not braking dangerously fast and feeling the effects of speed wobbling due to a steering malfunction or a deflating font tyre fading as the vehicle slowed.

He turned off at the first exit 11 miles farther on and stopped. He removed his cap and wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Bloody imagination," he said scornfully and opened the window and spat out bile.

There was not even a breeze outside but nevertheless it blew back and scatter across his face and his car reared up from the front, like a stallion about to go off to find a likely mare to mount. The front wheels dropped smoothly, the front of the car not even transmitting a small jolt.

"Fuck, this is paranormal, he thought, turning white. "Some dead fucker is out to murder me."

"You are correct to a point, but it's more supernatural than paranormal. There is a different you know," said the voice he heard inside his head.

Aldo had no idea of the difference.

He thought then what were his instructions?

The answer was immediate, the wording being delivered faster that he could have constructed it as a thought.

"From her Ladyship. She'll probably give you a back rub to calm you before she delivers the message."

What message?" Aldo thought, but that was not answered.

At 10.30 that night, Aldo went to sleep with his wife Catherine, a lawyer, snoring beside him.

She'd warned him there would be no sex as she was tired after delivering her presidential address at the annual AGM of the National Floral Society and introducing newly elected members to the organising committee (seven of the fourteen members retiring after two years' service) and introducing her appointment of the committee's new chairperson.

Aldo guessed what her tiredness was about; the vice-president Dago Stewart-Grigor had been fucking her again.

He awoke at midnight to the unfamiliar vagina scent near his head.

He switched on the bedside light but it came on much dimmer than normal. There was a strange female dressed in white with the tops of her thighs being pushed against the mattress

He turned to look for his wife and saw her stretched out on her back.

Holy shit, she appeared fast asleep and was being levitated.

"Do not be afraid," said the intruder. "You are being secretly recruited for your expertise by our High Command. My name is Virginia-Rose and I wish to give you a back rub to calm you before your mission is unloaded to you."

"Unloaded to my what?"

"Your sub-brain, silly," she giggled. "If you don't mind, I need to strip."

"Go ahead, your Ladyship," Aldo said scornfully. "That's unlikely to contribute to a back rub."

"Oh, silly man, unlike me you know little. I am responsible for the sending of sub-brain messages to people we use in carry out missions for the good of trillions of universes on behalf of the High Command intent on making the United Universes more compatible places in which to live."

"Trillions of universes?"

"Yes, Aldo. You'll know how many units there are in a trillion. But multiple that number by billion or perhaps two and you realise it's rather easy to lose numeracy perspective."

"Oh yeah," Aldo said, at least understanding what that last bit meant. "Now please explain why you need to be nude for a back rub?"

"That's easy, by definition a back rub means a full back run. I have to coat my entire front with perfumed massage oils and repeatedly have to rub you from scalp to your heels multiple times to give you complete a satisfying back massage during which you will involuntarily ejaculate multiple times."

"Don't worry by doubting your inability to continuing to cum many more times than what you are used to. I shall give you my finger coated with a special solution for you to suck off. There will be no adverse after-affects from ejaculation 50 times or more except that you may lose some weight and feel exceedingly weak and tired."

She worried Aldo even more by saying, "As the Duchess in charge of new colonies created in universes under the surveillance of the High Command and its bureaucracies, I'm surprised that on the Planet Earth in your universe that your so called profit-earners such as Weight-Watchers have ignored the obvious to promote increasing sexual activity as the fastest and healthiest means of losing excessive weight quickly. Possibly a profit motive might be involved in ignoring the obvious."

"Yes, your Ladyship," Aldo said, wondering if at times during the prolonged massaging would she flip him over several times for deep penetration.

"That's very likely," she said alluringly.

"Pardon me?"

"Don't try to be coy or evasive with me, young man. I can read your mind like a book, as you people call those antiquated things. But as you know, you people on this Planet are in a crude tribal state of developing your full potential. However, there are some people standing in the way of aspiring people like yourself to develop further. We need to use people like you to engineer their demise in such a way as to avoid wide repercussions including by foreign powers."

"Right, I'm all for that and will cooperate fully."

"Thanks pal, as you personally call your friends. We already knew that before approaching to recruit you."

Aldo said hopefully, "Am I to survive this assassination?"

"Yes, absolutely. Otherwise why would I've spend much of your10-hour massage fucking you lovingly until you cried stop on each occasion when you were on the verge of passing out?"

Aldo was disappointed. He had no knowledge of such an exhausting erotic massage but his dick already was telegraphing the message that it had been run over by a bus.

He experienced a violent electrical charge through his brain that lasted only a few milliseconds. He almost vomited from the pain.

"Why did you do that?" he complained.

"Because you doubted my sincerity by thinking I was using my superior powers to dupe you. Do you deny you were thinking I was covertly seducing you to think I was lying about saving your pending demise in a horrible car crash to kill an enemy of this Planet on behalf of the High Command, Protectors of the citizens of the United Universes?"

"That was excessive wordage but yes, I was thinking you were lying to me about my survival of a horrific car crash."

"You have a brilliant mind for a low-level teaching academic, Aldo. We will ensure that you will be ordained by your country's government in recognition of your involvement in saving the country's elected leaders. They will make you your world's youngest Professor Emeritus ever, and you will be offered a full professor research role by your university in your current Department of Developing Technologies."

"We will ensure you brain gradually increases capacity to enable people researching under your guidance to become national leaders in the fields they specialize in upon graduation and you will be acclaimed internationally for your contributions to science."

"Wow, and will I end up with you to have regular sex with?"

"Absolutely not. But I'll attend to the personal development of your currently fantastic wife. She'll also incrementally display increasing prowess in sexual activity, as that appears important to you, and we'll control her so that she finds it impossible to spread her sexual expertise around the community."

Aldo grabbed his head in his hands and howled in pain.

"Stop thinking I'm using these upcoming accolades to once again believing I'm deceiving you into believing you won't survive this horrendous car crash."

"We will make your car capable of speeding up to 300 mph to ensure the General, who is the professor in charge of your military's research unit to fiendishly plan propaganda designed for the three branches of your Defence Forces' to gradual taking control of your country's Parliament, universities and the Police Force. The United Earth Command under that General intention is to control your country as if it was occupied by foreign invaders."

"But how will me assisting to kill the General stop such a fiendish and covert takeover of the country?"

"Elements of the news media investigating his death and involvement in the military will mysteriously come into possession of Classified Documents that explain the takeover plans step-by-step and name all thirty-seven traitors in the defence forces who have been involved in this dastardly act of gaining ultimate power by stealth."

"Dastardly?"

"It's rarely used these days in this country but exists in your dictionaries."

Aldo said, "Hmm, one learns something new every day. Do you know what does it means?"

"Examples include underhand, despicable or contemptible behaviour."

Aldo asked, "How do you know so much about this planet when you already apparently possess all the knowledge needed to have people like me that you recruit execute our orders via the High Command transferred to us after being genetic pally enhanced or implanted with specific cell clusters?"

"Wow. That simple reaction makes you sound highly intelligent," Virginia-Rose giggled. "I must slip away. Your wife will return beside you in a few minutes, ready for sex, but be careful as she was anally ravaged by an arsehole of an underling at her 2-day conference last night and is feeling as if she had a street pole shoved into her anally.".

"But that cannot be. My wife is an anal virgin."

"Well that's not so, as she lost her anal virginity before she first met you and she and her girlfriends meet regularly at a coffee shop and arrive there already fitted with fat anal plugs and while at the table with its low-hanging table cloth chatter merrily while working sex toys into the vagina of the person seated on their left."

"Omigod."

"Don't be dismayed. Women all over your Planet do this all the time when they are having fun during what they generally call, 'Time out with the girls.' In contrast, you menfolk meet at a bar with the boys and solemnly spend the time discussing sport and the art of beer brewing. Very few of the so-called 'boys' go to the toilet to whack each other off. Little wonder they appear grumpy much of the time."

Virginia-Rose kissed Aldo on the mouth with a little bit of tongue and walked off, appearing oblivious to the admiring glances she received.

He'd looked at her swinging butt in wonder, remembering why she was reluctant to have sex with any male. She had told him that regrettably she'd ending up her first two husbands to death by fucking and her present husband, a fitness guru, was currently looking depressed, had become bandy legged and now could only fire half-a teaspoon of cum within the first two minutes of being fucked by her in an hour-long full-on session during which he complained about firing only dry blanks and that his balls were killing him.

She'd also horrified Aldo when he asked when would he get his instructions next Monday via his sub-brain.

"I injected you with two temporary genetic modifications when rubbing you up and down during my oil-coated body massage. Each time my tits passed over your hips, you added to the soaking of your mattress was getting and so remained unaware of my hyperaemic needles piercing your skin."

He replied perhaps he hadn't felt the injections. On the other hand, he recalled ejaculating hugely twice about the time when he was supposed to have had that massage, but having the massaged appeared to have been erased from his memory.

Virginia-Rose had looked at him guiltily and had murmured memory adjustment was not always completed flawlessly.

* * *

On Monday, Aldo was in his car as instructed by the first command lodged in his sub-brain to collect this corrupted General and apparently, a brilliant strategist and academic. He was caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic as it was peak rush-hour but he had been given two hours of crawling stop-start driving to reach Army HQ only five miles away.

Also was still shaking after reversing the Porsche from the garage and just dabbing the accelerator. Fortunately, it had been a quick jab because the latest information he'd heard his inner-voice say was that a leading race car engineer had worked through the night and had increased the top speed capacity of the vehicle to not 195 mph but to almost 300 mph.

The car practically took flight, and Aldo had to brake heavily on the driveway, burning rubber, to stop the vehicle roaring out to cross the road, demolishing the fence and crashing into the brickhouse opposite his home, perhaps with sufficient force to shift it off its foundations.

He wiped sweat from his brow.

* * *

General Caesar Judder was waiting for Aldo, glancing at his watch. The time was 9.57.

He was dressed in race driving kit including safely helmet instead of Army Officer kit that would have included a chest full of medals, perhaps one or two having truly been earned.

"You're late."

"Bullshit."

The General asked, "Are you in Military Reserves:"

"No, thank god."

The General smiled evilly and said, "When I return here, I'll have you seized and drafted and your first assignment as a seamen in Naval Reserve will be to place yourself on report with instructions signed by me that you are to report directly to me at 1900 hours."

"Sorry Asshole, I won't be there."

Ignoring that, the General said, "You will be under guard all day until 1900 when you will be taken to the Obstacles Course for new recruits. You will run, slide, slither, climb and swim the course while under so-called hostile fire. But in your case, instead of fake sound effects and the occasional firing of rifles loaded with blanks, you're run the dimly lit course without the involvement of recordings of real warfare sounds and riflemen and riflewomen firing blanks."

"There will be just me, dug into somewhere along the course and I'll have a machine gun loaded with live ammunition for discretionary use at my pleasure"

"I'd rather see you dead General than have you playing tin soldier at my expense."

He laughed and said well in about four hours they should know how the cookie crumbles.

"Let me have your seat, I'm driving."

"No way, not until we reach the Super Highway Grade 1 at Birdsville."

"Where the hell is that?"

"That's why I'm driving you there. It's a branch off Highway178 and it's the only road in this country that has no upper limit speed restriction."

"Oh yeah, that really appeals to me and that's while I'm here with you. You have to be told that I've never driven a car that I couldn't drive at its top speed safely."

"The handbook for this car lists its top track speed at 195."

"Then when I get to drive, you'll see how expertly I can drive. I topped the speedo of a Mercedes in Germany at 223 mph."

'You must have been crapping your pants."

"No young man, I was born to speed in vehicles and to conquer at least one country."

"Were you hatless and out too long in the sun yesterday, General?".

"Ah you have humour. You'll be shitting yourself tonight when I fire shots over the terrified you, and you'll perceive that the flying overhead lead is slowly dropping in elevation."

"Will I eventually die?"

"Eventually, yes," the General laughed loudly.

The outgoing traffic lanes were virtually empty as they flashed past virtually stalled city-bound traffic on the lanes opposite.

"Put your foot down youngster. No cop will ticket you when I pull out my warrant and announce that I'm being taken to assess a military emergency on the bombing range up north."

"Nah, sticking to the max speed limit is good for me. You can put your foot down when you take over when we reach the super highway in 12 minutes and six seconds."

The General checked his watch 12 minutes and six seconds later as they slid expertly into a drift to cross over to stop at the beginning of the super highway of two lanes in each direction separated by a continuous steel divider.

"How the fuck did you manage to predict our precise arrival time here when the GPS system is turned off."

"My head told me," Aldo said truthfully.

That was greeted with an exasperated sneer.

"Right Aldo, you're a smart guy and not overwhelmed by me. Instead of riddling your body with bullets on the Obstacle Course for new recruits, I've decided to appointment as your regular driver. You drive well. Yes or no to my proposal?"

"As you wish Herr General."

"Smart young shit," retorted the doomed rogue General, with Aldo cautiously assuming their conversation could be secretly recorded by the General's goons via some device the General might be wearing.

General Judder slid behind the steering wheel. Although born and raised in South Africa, far away from his ancestors, he said with Germanic pride, "These cars are made in Germany, huh?"

"Indeed, and I suggest you drive cautiously. The power in this car could prove too much for you. I also suggest that you raise the soft-top to deaden some of the high-speed noise. "

"You cheeky bastard. I'm Caesar Judd, holder of a current Class A amateur race car driver. Unbeaten in most of the 31 track and road racing events that I've competed in on four continents. I drive expertly and fearlessly. Off we go, with the top remaining down."

He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and was caught by surprise when the vehicle began fish-tailing, the car almost going out of control.

"Christ, Aldo," he said almost breathlessly and regaining full control. Exactly what do you have under the hood?"

"An engineer has done some modifications with great difficulty plus fine-tuning and said testing shows the car now has an output of almost 730 bhp."

"Christ, then I might get something like 230 mph on asphalt."

"Possibly."

The General buckled in and sent the vehicle off in a wheel-spinning roar.

Later in the drive as they neared the Witherspoon Tunnel, Aldo's inner-voice instructed him to unbuckle his seat belt without the driver noticing.

He obeyed the command fearfully with the vehicle screaming along at full throttle.

"The tunnel is coming up, with a gently curve of the highway leading into it as you guys approach. Tell the general to low down."

Alto watched the needle in front of the driver drop to 215.

In his approach, the General over-turned the wheel a little too much and with the tunnel entrance looming ahead of them very rapidly, and then corrected the steering wheel way too much and braked heavily.