Be Careful What You Wish For

On a bench, glaring at tiny, dancing reflections flittering on the gentle waves, he took another long, deep drag. The smoke tasted as sweet as the whiskey and he held it till it hurt. It seemed the river smelled like flowers tonight. It should have felt hot and sticky but a mild breeze kept the sweat at bay. There was no moon and few stars but fluorescence spattered the shores allowing him to exist in a soft, gray haze.

This probably wasn’t the safest place to be alone, at least not at this time of night. But fears were for mere mortals and tonight he felt anything but. After all, he was The Enemy. At least that is what his friends called him. The wolf in sheep’s clothing. If trouble came begging tonight, he was in a mood to pay.

The beach, if one could call it that, was all stone and boulder and mangled concrete. Dotted with shrubs and occasionally something that dreamed of being a tree, it was hardly a thing of beauty in of itself. But it was a little ways off the more traveled path, just a little bit private. Just enough that he felt he virtually owned this place, his very own corner of the world. It was a beautiful place to come when he was feeling dark, an ideal place to brood. And indeed … he did.

He had the world by the balls. He was successful, loved by family, welcomed by friends. Anything he ever wanted, he had. He had everything including one dirty, little secret that haunted him all his life. It was a nasty, awful secret that never went away. And so painful that it was his curse to bear it alone. For some unexplained reason, when it really hurt, this place calls to him. To come here was good for his soul.

Or so he thought.

When he first saw it he didn’t think much of it. Just more litter. But it cast just enough of a reflection that it kept catching his eye. So after awhile he was just mindlessly staring at it where it lay nestled between some rocks. It took a few more slugs and a few more drags when finally enough of the very few functioning brain cells left to him screamed curiosity, so he clambered clumsily over to it and lifted the fist sized lump of metal. It definitely had his attention now so he struck his lighter for a better look.

It was green with tarnish but there was a glimmer of bronze. It was scratched and dented, but intact. It looked like an oil lamp. No lid but it had one hole above the spout and two more centered middle, top. There were also three rings and a chain that allowed him to dangle it before him. This is too odd not to be a keeper, he thought. Perhaps he could clean it up and sell it on eBay.

Taking it back to the bench he fired his lighter till he thought his thumb would blister. A curious ankh like symbol circled one hole and engulfed the other. This was circled by a ring of engraved flames. Then he almost laughed aloud. It’s Aladdin’s lamp! And he couldn’t resist. He pulled up the tail of his black T-shirt and started rubbing …

And try as he might, he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t laughing now. He rubbed harder, faster. Two minutes ago, he was ever so fearless. Now he was completely unnerved, totally out of control. The lamp was getting warmer, until it was getting really hot. In the gray haze of the night he was now certain it was actually smoking. It was all too much and surely the whiskey was taking its dire toll for his head was spinning and he had to close his eyes or for certain he was going to pass out.

When he opened them, he was no longer alone. He was certain he was dreaming now.

A man sat next to him, a huge, shirtless man with rippling muscles. He was bald but for a bound stem of hair which split into long, twin pony tails. And he was sporting way too much eye makeup, like his eyes were the centers of dark stars, pointing upward past arched brows, pointing to what looked like two barely there, but there … horns. He furled those brows and cracked his knuckles, making horrific sounds like trees breaking in the wind. When he spoke it sounded like gravel falling on tin.

“You summoned me, Master?” The way ‘master’ rolled off his forked tongue dripped of sarcasm.

Looking into those eyes felt akin to being sucked into a black hole. The dream was behaving as dreams do and he felt helpless, like he had no choice but to play the obvious, say the obvious.

“I think so. Are you going to grant me three wishes?”

Then came laughter. It hurt to listen to it.

“I might find that amusing. So be it. Three wishes. After the third, I shall leave you to your fate.”

That certainly sounded ominous. All the same, who could possibly resist? And since he was dreaming, and even if he wasn’t, the first wish was always safe. He could always use one of the remaining wishes to undo any harm. He felt the excitement raise, his heart beating ever faster, ever harder. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to resist. It felt like destiny. Surely this was meant to be. He was born with the inevitability that this would happen. It was time to attend to the dirty, nasty secret that had haunted him his whole life. It was time to correct what never should have been. It was time to choose his words carefully.

“I wish I were a woman, 21 years old, healthy and so beautiful that everyone who meets me will find be absolutely irresistible. I wish for women to envy me and men to lust for me!”

“Oh. That’s an easy one. Done.”

At first it seemed he was joking. But a glance down found his/her body obscured by the heaving flesh of bosoms. He/she bolted upright and almost fell down because she was now teetering precariously on very high heels. Looking back at the djinn in utter confusion, it seemed rather proud of itself.

“Allow me.” It said. “This one’s for free.” And a full length mirror magically appeared. It hovered eerily amidst darkness, but was ringed with tiny lights and what she saw was absolutely astonishing. She had porcelain skin, shoulder length, honey blonde hair. A little bit of makeup but it was ever so perfect, she could even taste the sweetest lipstick. Strawberry! She smelled of perfume, like lilac. She was dressed in a black dress that was so lacy that it was practically lingerie. No bra, but she didn’t need one for her breasts were ample and perk with cleavage that could hold a beer bottle. She couldn’t help but run her soft, dainty hands over her hour glass curves, ever downward until long, pink and perfectly manicured fingernails brushed past the short hem of her skirt onto silky, patterned stockings. She had the sexiest leather boots on, laced, snug, hugging her calves and ankles so neatly that they felt like second skin. What she lost in height from her former self was made up by three of four inches of stiletto heels. Just … wow! She was in heaven and wished this moment forever, but that wasn’t to be.

“You hardly look like anyone’s Enemy now. What shall I call you?”

With a coy smile and a weak attempt at a courtesy, she was now whom she’d always fantasized that she’d be.

“I think I’ll be ‘Kiki’. I’d like that.”

“Well, Kiki. One wish down, two to go. What’s next? Do you desire wealth beyond your wildest dreams? It’s within your grasp. Speak it and it’s yours.”

“Oh! No no no. Not so fast! Do I have to choose right now? This is all so much and my head is spinning and I’d really like time to enjoy this wish. I’d like time to think about it.” Her voice now sounded like music, ever so girly and sexy and … tasty. “That’s NOT a wish!” she added hastily.

The djinn grinned. The mirror shattered but there was no sound of falling glass. Kiki’s image vanished and it now seemed much darker than it had before. She could only see a silhouette of her maker and his massive chest blotted out what was left of the night’s sky. His eyes now were the only lights as she craned her neck to look up, eyes slanted and menacing.

“As you wish … girl.” He almost purred that last, long syllable. Again it dripped with sarcasm. “I shall leave you to enjoy the fruits of your first wish. When the sun is full upon this river I shall return for the next.” And he sat once more and Kiki experienced the odd, dizzying sensation that he kept on sitting and sitting, lower and lower, as if he was falling into a hole in the bench. Till she was alone once more, staring blankly at dull reflections in the oil lamp perched in between bench slats.

She let her breath out, rubbed her eyes. This must be a dream, of course it was. Slender hands fell upon her chest, giving a firm squeeze. “Hooooooly shit! These sure FEEL real.” Suddenly she just had to be in the light once more. Picking up the lamp, she turned toward the main path and fell after only the second step. One knee had struck a small stone and when she gingerly felt where it pained her, it felt wet. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the haze once more and she could see where her pretty stocking was now torn. Love the heels, she thought, but they’ve got to go. The long finger nails made touching anything awkward, but she ran them along the thick, corded laces looking for a bow or a knot. But there seemed to be none, as if they were a closed loop. And being as snug and form fitting as they were, she realized it’d be no easy feat getting them off here. So she staggered clumsily to her feet and pressed upward and onward.

When she found the beaten path, the going was slow, her movements drunkenly. She never imagined it’d be so difficult to walk in high heels. She felt beautiful, she felt like dancing, but she realized with a sigh it would be all she could do to make it the long way home. The longest journey begins with a single step. So she took it. Another and another and more and more, her ass was fleshy and she could feel it sway. It felt ever so weird but it was fun and she started to get into it, letting her hips roll and swish as she listened to the happy click of her heels on the concrete.

Too into it, they saw her before she saw them. Two shadows coming her way. She paused, stared. They didn’t. There was now a bounce in their steps as they suddenly passed a faint light, two men clearly focused on her.

Her former self would have advanced brazenly, met their eyes, established intent. But she had none of that confidence now. Her heart began to beat so loudly that she felt her bosoms were going to bounce out of the low cut dress. She turned, desperately looking for another direction; certain this wasn’t an apt time to make new acquaintances. Nowhere to go but back, she turned and tried to run.

Those cursed heels were making a racket, noise that could be heard forever in the silence of the night. Almost instantly she heard the other muffled steps. They closed in a flash and before she could even figure out how to turn without falling, a clammy fist closed about her elbow and spun her around.

“Whassa’ matter, dolly? We just want to see what you’re selling?” He spit into her face as he bumped her backward. She would have fallen but his grip felt like iron, as strong as the beer on his grizzled breath.

“Fuckin’A, Skip, this bitch is smokin’ hot!” said the other as she was suddenly sandwiched between two smoldering, sweaty bodies. They both had unbuttoned flannel shirts though it may still have been eighty degrees.

“I’m not selling anything. I just want to go home.” She tried to sound confident but it came out childlike and pleading.

“It sure looked to me like ya’ were, we saw yers.” said Skip. “Wassa’matter? You too high and mighty for the likes of us? Looks like one of those uppity ups from those yachts down there, don’t cha’ think?”

“Yeah I think. Look at this fancy ass change purse she’s got.” The guy with the wool cap and scraggly hair began pulling the lamp away from her. She fought to retain possession but with a yank her fingers screamed and it was gone from her.

“Genie, I summon you, I need you. Now! Pleeeeeeease.”

Oh how they laughed. “She’s got a fuckin’ genie in here!” Scraggly said as he gave the lamp a shake. “Ahhhhh … guess he’s not home. Fuckin’ thing’s empty.” And with a thoughtless toss it disappeared into the night.

“Shit, you idiot, that thing’s got to be worth something.”

“Nah, not to us, Skip. Fuck it. I think we’ve got what we want.”

Kiki pulled harder but it just resulted in Skip grabbing her other arm. “Let me go or I’ll scream.” She couldn’t believe she said that, couldn’t believe she/he … would have said something so helplessly pathetic in ten lifetimes. But the dream was becoming a nightmare.

Effortlessly it seemed, she was spun around, one of Skip’s arms pinning both her elbows to his greasy stomach. She started to scream but the other clasped her mouth tight and pulled her head taught against his shoulder.

“Fuckin’ bitch.”

“Ah, now you’ve done it, Skip. If you let her go, we’re gonna be in a world of shit.”

“Who says we have to let her go?”

She tried to stomp his toes but her heel struck what seemed like steel toed work boots and she twisted her ankle instead. Her cry of pain came out as a sorry “Mmmmmmph.” Skip twisted her head so that she thought her neck was going to break.

“Try that again slut and I’ll hurt you good. Really good, if you know what I mean. We’re going to have to tie her up.”

Her eyes went wide as saucers. She tried to find a handhold but she felt finger nails break as she tried to pull on taught denim.

“We’re going to hell for this, Skip, but I hear ya’ man. Here, this will help.” Scraggly removed his leather belt and pulled off his wool cap revealing a glistening bald spot. “Move your hand Skip. Bite me, bitch, and I’ll punch your teeth out.”

As soon as Skip pulled his hand away, Scraggly was trying to stuff the cap in her mouth. Not able to turn away, Kiki tried to clench her teeth. But Skip pinched her nose closed. The need for oxygen was instant and no sooner than she tried for a hasty gulp, the scratchy hat was being stuffed all the way into her mouth after which Scraggly wrapped the belt twice across her parted lips and pulled it so tight that she began gagging.

“I’ve got the bitch, Skip. Gimme yer boot laces.”

Passed off like a toy doll, she fought desperately to calm herself enough to breathe. Her wrists were pulled together and she could feel the thick laces being wound around and round her wrists, and even between the wrists, making her bondage ever tighter. The other long lace went around her ankles, same fashion. She wasn’t struggling anymore, way too frightened for that. While Scraggly finished her ankles, Skip used his belt to tighten her elbows snug to her back. Suddenly, everything hurt. She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything but cry. She prayed silently, someone help me. Please, somebody, anybody help me.

“Oh, ain’t this the sight. I got me a hard on already. We’ve gotta’ get this slut out of here.”

“I’m stronger. I’ll carry her over to the fishing nook. Get the car and meet me there.”

Kiki was already passing out as she was lifted on to a bony shoulder, all her wind, all the life in her, snuffed like a birthday candle.

When the sun finally filtered through what was left of the dusty, grimy slats that were once blinds, the morning found Kiki still alive. Barely. Her eyes, her face were swollen. She was naked except for the leather boots and a whole lot of duct tape. It was wrapped all around her, her ankles, her knees, her elbows all the way down to her wrists. Her once beautiful hair was now plastered to her lips with layer upon layer of tape. When she still had feeling, she knew her wrists abutted right to her ankles in a most severe hogtie, held there with a frayed electrical cord. But mercifully, she had lost all feeling in her limbs hours upon hellish hours ago. She could still feel her tits, bruised like over ripe cantaloupe, stuck like suction cups to a cold, wooden floor. She could still feel how her insides screamed from the endless abuse. But not much else. She had given up hope. All but the hope that death would claim her sooner than later. The sudden sarcasm, dripping sarcasm, wasn’t necessarily welcomed.

“Good morning Kiki.” A sound, like gravel falling on tin. “I see you’ve had a most memorable evening. I’ve come to grant you the remainder of your wishes, as promised. After all, I’ve never broken a promise.”

She tried to find the source of this most painful voice, but it seemed she no longer had the strength to lift her head off the floor.

“Well then, surely you’ve had plenty of opportunity to ponder. What will it be then? What can I do for the shortest lived virgin in all of human history? Oh! Cat got your tongue, I see. Damn, I’ve always wanted to say that.”

He laughed the cruelest laugh but she was almost beyond caring anymore.

“I do see the problem here. I tell you what, how about I let you use your second wish to remove that tape from your mouth. A simple nod will suffice.”

She heard, the words registered. A glimmer of hope when she thought none left. It was all she could do to lift her head a quarter inch, give one single nod. But by the time her head hit the floor again the tape was gone from her face and air never tasted so sweet. She began choking on it.

“There, there, it’s okay. No thanks necessary.” She was still bound miserably but the sudden intake of air began to clear her head just enough. “Now, on to your third and final wish, or, would you like to enjoy the fruits of your second wish awhile longer. I could come back tomorrow morning if it pleases you again? I really do aim to please.”

“NO!” she gasped, almost cried. “Please stay.”

“Really! Well, for just a moment. It does so please me to feel welcomed. What would you have of me then?”

She was starting to cry again, overwhelmed by the cruel irony that her life had become.

“I wish I had never found your lamp. I wish I was home safe in bed.”

This was followed by a long, ponderous silence.

“That was two wishes. It’s going to cost you.”

Strong hands lifted her tightly bound form from the floor and pressed her swollen breasts against an oiled, perfumed and very muscular chest. Slowly she was lowered down, held tight against him, until she felt him forcing his way into her. It was hot, it was way too big. He started laughing and though she thought she no longer had enough life left in her, she began to scream. And scream. A high, shrill pitch of a woman in absolute agony. She screamed until her voice became hoarse and deep, till she was sounding like a man that had smoked way too often.

“Just a little something to remember me by.”

Suddenly, bolting upright, the sweat soaked bed sheets fell from a glistening, hard chest. Heart pounding like no tomorrow, sucking wind and gasping for every breath that aching lungs could hold, the sweet sight of a familiar room began to take hold. Home. Home sweet home. Sheets were swept away. No boots, just big ol’ gnarly feet. He stared at calloused, strong hands which immediately groped about a hardened male body he knew all too well.

Holy shit, he thought, holy shit. It was all just a dream. One HELL of a fucking dream.

Or so he thought.

09.08.09