Diurnal Emissions
by Altered State
June 2023
The car was finally coming up to speed on the bypass when the phone rang.
The name on the dash display was obscure enough: EMA. He certainly didn’t know what it meant; he didn’t know any Emmas, let alone curiously misspelled Emmas. Nor did he know anything or anyone that went by the acronym EMA. And there was no number displayed. That sort of cloak and dagger thing annoyed him, so he pressed the button that declined the call. He would block the number as soon as he arrived home. Then, finally at speed, he engaged the cruise control and relaxed.
Until the phone rang again.
EMA, the display flashed. Again.
Dammit, he thought, hitting ‘decline call’ again. If it happened once more, it likely meant that he was either on someone’s cold call list, or perhaps more likely he was receiving a notice from a collection agency. For what? He didn’t know, probably a doctor bill or some such, but they’d call repeatedly till they got a response. There’d be nothing for it but to stop and block the call right here on the bypass. He sighed and leaned back, hopefully to get a chance to relax before the traffic got obnoxious.
No such luck. Because the phone rang again.
Another sigh.
Whoever it was, perhaps it was best to just deal with them and get it over with.
He pressed answer. “Hello?”
The voice—female—on the other end asked, rather crossly, “Who is this?”
Now, under normal circumstances, he might’ve answered, you called me, who did you expect to get? or something appropriately snarky. But it had been a long day, he was tired, and the worst part of his drive was still to come. So instead he replied, “This is Jarrod Reynolds. Who is this?”
“This is Doctor Edda Eddson of Eddson Medical Associates. Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
Eddson Medical Associates. Nothing he was familiar with, but at least it solved the EMA mystery.
Her tone was pointed and impatient, as if she were personally offended that he’d refused to respond to her calls. Still: “I’m sorry, I really have no idea who you are, Doctor Eddson. And I’m in my car, and traffic is about to get heavy, and…”
“Pull over.”
He blinked. “Do what now?”
“Pull over,” she repeated. “Pull your car off onto the shoulder.”
“Are you serious?”
“Pull. Your. Car. Over.” A careful, tense pause between each word. “Right now.”
It was not a request. And he was too tired to bother fighting. He eased the car onto the shoulder and put it in park, then activated the emergency flashers.
As if she were able to see him, she said, “Did you turn on your emergency flashers?”
“Yes, I…”
“Turn them off.”
“Turn them off?”
That commanding voice again. “We needn’t have undue attention. Do as I say. Turn them off.”
He did. “All right,” he sighed. “I’m parked on the shoulder, and the flashers are off. Now, will you please tell me what this is about?”
“Yes, Jarrod,” she said, her voice modulating somewhat. “Just to confirm, this is the Jarrod Reynolds of box 5114 Exley Estates?”
A whoosh as a car went by, very close, very quickly. This was not a safe place to be pulled over. He put the car back in gear and eased over onto the soft shoulder, then put it back in park. It was better, somewhat safer, but not entirely comfortable. And then there would be the problem of getting it back onto the hard shoulder, and thence into traffic once he was ready to do so. Who was this Doctor Edda Eddson anyway, and what did she want with him?
“Yes. That’s me. Now, please, I’m not exactly comfortable parked here, so what can I do for you?”
Again her voice changed, now becoming a breathy, coaxing sigh. “What you can do for me, Jarrod, is relax, and listen to me carefully.”
“Well…It’s not exactly relaxing here…”
“Relax,” she repeated, in a softer voice. “Listen to me carefully. Relax, and...sleep.”
Sleep?
“Sleep,” she crooned, her voice now positively seductive. “Doctor Edda insists. Sleep, Jarrod. Relax, and sleep, sleep, sleep.”
His eyes blinked. His vision grew hazy. “Sleep?”
“Do as I say, dear. You’re completely safe, perfectly comfortable.” Then, once more the unusual phrasing: “Doctor Edda insists. Sleep, sleep, sleep.”
Precarious as his locale might or might not have been, he could suddenly see no reason to disagree with her. Somehow deep inside he knew that he was completely safe, he felt perfectly comfortable, and he was tired, so very tired. Before he heard the third repetition of the word, he was fast asleep.
He didn’t remember the rest of the commute. That wasn’t exactly unusual; many were the times that he found his mind had switched into some odd automatic pilot mode and he was without memories of the trip he made twice a day five times a week. Today though…today, there was something new added. Something different.
He didn’t discover it till he finally did get home and hurried into the bathroom for his customary urgent post-commute urination. And what he discovered was that his underwear were…soiled.
Soiled with ejaculate.
A lot of ejaculate.
…what in the world…?
He quickly closed and locked the bathroom door. He could imagine Nadine’s reaction should she see this mess…hell, his own reaction was startled enough. He got out of his briefs, wrapped them in some toilet paper, and buried them deep in the trash bin. He sure didn’t want to put them in the laundry; that would be like asking for them to be discovered. He could imagine the questions from Nadine, understandable questions, but questions he couldn’t answer.
Funny, the guilty reactions over something he knew nothing about! Had he had…oh, he didn’t know, maybe some sort of waking wet dream? A diurnal dream then, as opposed to nocturnal? Could that even happen? He’d never heard of it before, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.
He stripped and took a shower, perhaps to wash the last traces of guilty spunk from the…scene of the crime, as it were. Afterword, he felt cleaner, if still troubled. What had happened to him? A load like that, surely he’d have to have felt something profound when it happened…
“Roddy?” Nadine stuck her pretty head in the room. “Are you going to be ready to eat anytime soon?”
He gave her a tired smile. “I’m sorry, Nades. I’m not feeling very well. I think maybe I’ll have a lie down before I try to eat anything. You go ahead, don’t wait for me.”
“Are you all right?” she asked concernedly. “You were awful late getting home tonight. Did you have to fight with traffic?”
I don’t know, he thought, and that response would’ve fit both her question as well as his: he certainly couldn’t remember the traffic being that bad (though it typically was) nor could he fathom why he’d been so late arriving home, over twenty minutes by his watch. It was a troubling conundrum, but he couldn’t very well say so out loud. “I’m fine,” he said with a tired smile. “It’s just been a long day, I guess. Maybe a quick nap will help.”
She nodded. “All right. Turn on the sound machine. I’ll close the door and try and to keep the cat from bothering you.”
He grinned. “Yeah, good luck with that.” He blew her a kiss as she closed the door.
He pulled on a fresh pair of briefs and crawled under the covers…then remembered he needed to plug his phone in the charge. It probably didn’t need it just yet, but, it was his habit to plug it in just before sleep. He got back up, retrieved the device from his carry bag, and went back to bed. The plug was on his nightstand, and all he had to do was…
…wait a minute.
The Recent Calls icon on his home screen was highlighted. Next to it was a tiny numeral 3.
He hadn’t placed any calls today, nor could he remember receiving any. He checked the call log, found there were, in fact, three inbound calls…no number, just the cryptic acronym ‘EMA’. Two refused, one accepted.
And that one he’d accepted? It had lasted over twenty minutes!
Well, that would account for the missing time, he supposed. But who or what was ‘EMA’?
There was one way to find out. He connected his bluetooth earbuds and pressed redial. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t.
The line rang three times before a recorded voice answered: Thank you for calling Eddson Medical Associates. Please, relax and listen. We ask that you hold patiently. Your call will be answered by the first available clinical consultant.
Eddson Medical Associates. One mystery seen to. But, ‘clinical consultant’? What on earth was that?
He didn’t have long to wait to find out. Barely twenty seconds went by before a pleasant female voice spoke. “Good afternoon, this is Eddson Medical Associates. To whom am I speaking?”
“This is Jarrod Reynolds,” he responded. “I’m calling about…”
“Mister Reynolds,” the voice chirped pleasantly. “Good afternoon, sir. One moment, please.” There was the faint sound of typing. “Jarrod Reynolds, box 5114 Exley Estates. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Whoever they were, they knew him. Or at least knew of him.
“Wonderful. Very good. Thank you so much for checking in, Jarrod. Give me just a moment to look at your chart.” There was a brief pause, then the woman came back and said, “Oh, I see. Yes. Doctor Eddson’s indicated here that she’d like to speak to you personally, Jarrod. Could I ask you to please hold again for just a few minutes? She’s on the line with another subject just this minute.”
‘Subject’. Subject, not ‘patient’. An odd choice of verbiage, but not odd enough to elicit comment. “I was about to lie down for a nap, but…”
“Why, that’s wonderful! Just the thing. Why don’t you do just that? Are you somewhere quiet? Somewhere you won’t be disturbed?”
“I’m actually in bed right now. And yes, I’m alone.”
“Good. That’s very good, Jarrod.” Her voice became gentle and oddly seductive. It felt good just to hear her talk. “Then would you do something for me?”
Anything, he thought. “Yes,” he replied.
“That’s so nice of you. So very nice. What I’d like for you to do for me, Jarrod, is to just relax, relax deeply, till you hear Doctor Eddson’s voice. Do you understand? Will you do that for me? You can even nod off if you like. Doctor Edda would appreciate finding you in such a state, and I know you’ll feel so nice and comforted.” He could almost hear a smile in her voice as she continued, “It’ll feel like a gentle, warm full-body hug. Will you do that for me?”
Such a lovely thought. He sighed, a sleepy smile forming on his face. “Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, I will.”
“Good. Then I’ll put you back on hold then, and you can listen to some soothing music, and the next voice you’ll hear will be that of Doctor Eddson. Have a wonderful day, Jarrod!”
“Thank you,” he replied sleepily. “You too.”
He lay there listening to some soporific ambient music (with a faint hiss in the background that was strangely fascinating) half awake, half asleep, for several minutes till the music faded away and a firm but pleasant voice asked, “Is this Jarrod?”
“Yesssssss,” he sighed regretfully. He’d really enjoyed that music.
“This is Doctor Eddson. I’m so happy that you called, Jarrod. Are you feeling better?”
Another day it might’ve occurred to him to ask, better than what? But, not here, not now. Instead he gave another sibilant affirmative: “Yesssssss.”
“I’m glad,” she murmured. “So very glad. You were a little grumpy with me earlier, dear. I was worried about you.”
“I was grumpy with you? I’m sorry.”
“That’s quite all right, Jarrod. Perfectly so. I know you’ve had a difficult day. But it’s gotten better, hasn’t it? Did you find the present I left for you?”
Present? What did she mean? “I…I’m not sure…”
“Oh, don’t be coy,” she said mysteriously. “I’m sure by now you’ve found a lovely mess in your underwear. I just hope you didn’t soil your trousers. You didn’t, did you?”
“Ummm…no.” Apparently whoever this woman was, she was claiming responsibility for…well, whatever had happened to him on the way home.
Whatever happened in the car.
While he was alone.
“What…what did you do to me?” he asked nervously. “And how?”
There was a pause. “I hear concern in your voice, Jarrod. You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“I’m not sure. I think…I think I’m afraid of what you did to me.”
There was another pause, and an amused chuckle. “Be fair, dear. I did nothing to you. You did it to yourself.”
“But how?”
“Think back, Jarrod. You were driving home, and you got a phone call, and then…”
“I did?” Well, yes, he did. It was the very reason he was speaking to her right now, wasn’t it? The call logs, showing several calls from a mysterious ‘EMA’? “Yes, I guess I did. But I sure don’t remember anything about it.”
“Good. Excellent. That’s exactly as it should be. So let’s go back to that call, you and I. Remember, Jarrod. Doctor Edda insists. Remember this afternoon. You’re driving home, and the phone rings. Tell me what happens next.”
“I…I…,” he stammered. Suddenly there was an odd compulsion in him, a desire to tell her everything that had happened…some of which was still somehow locked within his memory.
Then she provided the key to that lock. “Go on, then. Doctor Edda insists. Tell me everything that happened.”
“I…I answered the phone,” he said.
“No,” she said softly. “Now, Jarrod, that’s not how it happened. Tell me everything. Begin with the moment you first heard the phone ring.”
“Well…”
“Tell me, Jarrod. Remember. Doctor Edda insists. You can remember it all now. But only for me.”
And suddenly, he could. He could remember hearing the phone ring, remember declining the call. Then for a second time. And finally, the third time, accepting it, and hearing that compelling voice on the other end of the line, telling him to relax, in a most unrelaxing place. Doctor Edda insists, she’d said. Just like she just had, when she…insisted he remember.
And he did.
He remembered it all. All of it.
How she’d told him that he should always, always answer any calls from EMA. How disappointed she’d been by his not showing up for his scheduled appointment, how she’d been so looking forward to working with him again. The she told him to put his hand down his pants and stroke himself. That he could not resist, would not resist. He would stroke himself quietly, gently, while she murmured sweet words of submission…reminding him that he was hers to do with what she pleased…and that he would do everything she told him to do. That he would never decline her phone calls again, that his subconscious mind would remember EMA and what it meant…who it meant. He was commanded to continue stroking himself with increasing fervor till he achieved orgasm, and then, only once he’d done so, would he be allowed to continue driving home. He would consciously forget everything that had happened to him from that very first phone call, and that he would call EMA as soon as he was able and it was safe once he’d arrived at home. That he would receive further instructions when he did.
“You did all that to me,” he finally sighed.
“Just so,” she replied. “And you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
The next words came very much against his will: “Yes, Doctor Edda.”
“All of it. You enjoyed all of it, didn’t you? You loved the feeling of surrendering control. You had a wonderful orgasm. And you even enjoyed speaking with Ariel and listening to our on hold music. Didn’t you, Jarrod?”
Again, the unconscious response: “Yes, Doctor Edda.”
“That’s right. That’s exactly right. And you’ll be enjoying so much more over the next several months, while I decide exactly what your role will be with EMA. You’ll report for your regular treatments, you’ll take any medication exactly as prescribed. Won’t you? Remember it, Jarrod, remember it all. Remember everything that’s happened to you so far.”
He did. He remembered it all. Remembered going to EMA for an evaluation for depression, he hadn’t told Nadine, didn’t want to worry her. He’d just taken a half day at work, had left early and went to the clinic, which was in the next town over. Remembered being seen by Doctor Edda Eddson personally. Everyone among the office staff being so kind and effusive…not everybody gets to see Doctor Edda personally, you’re so lucky! Walking into her office that was more like a living room, a suite even, with a huge padded sofa with pillows and comforters. And her presence was just as comforting: she was an attractive woman, late fifties, perhaps middle sixties…gray hair, gray sweater, and riveting gray eyes. A nicely-rounded body. The very picture of mature sensuality. She’d laid him on the sofa, head propped up on thick pillows, wrapped him in one of the warm matching comforters, and fitted him with a nasal cannula. Oxygen, she explained. To keep his mind clear while he spoke of his issues. Oxygen that had an odd smell, but it was okay, it smelled nice, and after a few minutes of inhaling it he felt a lovely intoxication steal over him. Such a nice feeling, almost like floating. And that was when she’d laid a hand on his, and placed her other on the crown of his head, pressing gently, rhythmically. She spoke to him of relaxation, deep breaths, soft pillows, warm blankets; of how lovely and peaceful the office was, how wonderful it could be to just surrender all of his cares to her, that she’d take care of him now…to just relax and enjoy the warmth entering his body where she lay her gently kneading hands, warmth that radiated outward like spreading pools of tranquility…and when she was finished, he would know that he didn’t want to leave her care, that he would never leave her care…
“So,” she finally said, “having remembered all of that, knowing the joy of being in my care, why would you not return as scheduled? Tell me, Jarrod, how did I fail?”
“But you didn’t,” he said. “Fail, I mean. I came home and found myself covered with cum, and I didn’t know anything about it. That’s not exactly what I would call a failure.”
She was silent for a moment, then he could hear that delighted chuckle return. “Why, that’s right! That’s exactly right. So clearly you’ve ceded some measure of control to me. But you’re still resisting me, Jarrod. That’s why I need to see you again, as soon as possible. Shall we say, tomorrow evening? I’m afraid I have no slots open during the day, but I’d be happy to come in after dinner for you. Would seven PM be convenient?”
He wanted to. He so wanted to. There was a gnawing need to see her, some compulsion within him.
And he knew why. She’s put it there, he thought. I don’t know what it is or how she did it, but she’s making me want to see her.
But the plain fact was, he knew he needed treatment of some sort. He’d been feeling bad lately, classic symptoms of clinical depression, the worst of which was a lack of interest in anyone or anything, including himself. He wasn’t quite at the point of considering self-harm, not yet, but he knew he wasn’t far from it. That was why he’d made the connection with Eddson Medical Associates. They promised discrete treatment, and, better still, they took his insurance.
There was a moment of silence before she prompted him: “You didn’t tell Nadine, did you, Jarrod?”
Another moment of silence.
“Did you?” she persisted.
“No,” he finally replied. “I didn’t tell her. She doesn’t need to know.”
“Now, we talked about this, Jarrod. If anyone needs to know that you’re seeking treatment like this, it’s your wife.”
“But she’s not my wife. We just live together.”
“Significant other then. But I imagine she cares a great deal for you, doesn’t she?
“I guess she does. And I care for her, and that’s why…”
She shushed him. “What happens at our sessions together, she won’t know.” Another soft laugh. “No more than you will, once I’ve finished with you. But she cares enough to be concerned, and needs to know that you’re taking steps to address your problems. Tell her.” A pause, then: “Doctor Edda insists. Tell Nadine you’re seeking help. As soon as you get off the phone. And then, tomorrow at seven, I expect to see you here. You won’t disappoint me again, will you?”
The compulsion was back. He responded accordingly. “I’ll be there, Doctor Edda.”
“Very good. Don’t be late.” Then, with a smile in her voice, she said: “Now, Jarrod, I want you listen to me very carefully…”
When he next came to his senses, Jarrod Reynolds discovered that he felt…wonderful. Wonderful. Refreshed, like he’d just had a full nights’ rest, though he was sure he’d only been asleep under an hour. Ordinarily he’d have been worried that a nap so late in the day would interfere with his usual sleep cycle, but somehow he knew there was no reason for concern.
And apparently he’d had an erotic dream of some sort in the past hour. Climbing from the bed, he was amused to find that he’d ejaculated in his briefs.
He smiled. That wasn’t a cause for concern either. At least I know that much of me is working, he thought, trying to frame in his mind how he was going to break it to Nadine that he was seeing a counselor. Because he was seeing one, and he was going to tell Nadine. In fact, he had an appointment to see said counselor tomorrow evening, and he couldn’t be late.
Smiling, he padded into the bathroom, grabbing a clean pair of briefs along the way.