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“A big enough wish. I know. So, I don’t just wish for one vibrator, I wish for sex toys everywhere. Make my whole apartment sexy!” she giggles, and I grunt as I try to suppress the magic, but it soars out of me unbridled.
“Holy shit,” she says, looking down at her outfit which has now been replaced with a cornflower lace underwear set that amplifies her voluptuous body.
“Check me out in my sexy underwear,” she says, hooking her thumb into the top of her garter and letting the elastic snap back against her delectable thigh.
“I’ve never had nice stuff like this before. I guess we’re both looking pretty hot now. I’m even blue like you,” she giggles, and despite how ridiculous her second wish was, I cannot say I regret the sight of her sitting before me with her flawless body on display.
“But now that I look so hot, it’s a waste of a dream having to use a sex toy. I want a real man,” she groans, and I feel another searing hot stab of pain.
A human’s hopes and wishes should not be my concern, but I loathe hearing her desire for a male with such need.
“But I don’t have much luck with men, I’d probably get stood up even in my dream,” she mutters, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Not like Amy, I bet she’s never been stood up. Every guy in the world wants to date her,” she grumbles, then her hypnotizing eyes flick up to meet mine.
“Okay Zeno, time to cash in my final wish. I’m tired of being the one nobody chooses. I want to be that girl. I wish that every man on this big green earth wants to date me.”
“Bethany, no!” I roar, my body shaking as I try with all my might to prevent this cursed wish from coming true. But it is no use. I cannot stop it. Her terrible wish is my reluctant command.
CHAPTER THREE
Bethany
My pounding head wakes me like the worst kind of alarm clock, and my mouth is so dry it feels like I ate sand in my sleep.
Water. Must get water.
I throw back my quilt and heave myself up onto my elbows, my vision spinning with me as I do.
“What the hell?” I say out loud when my focus settles, and I stare around my bedroom open-mouthed with confusion.
At least I think it’s my bedroom. Everything is in the same place, it’s just different. So very different.
My charming bed, which used to have a dove-gray headboard is now a black wooden four-poster with a leather bondage harness strapped onto each corner.
My bedding is now red satin, and when I glance up, I get the shock of my life to see my hungover self staring back at me from the full-sized mirror screwed to the ceiling.
I swing my feet out of bed and get the first good surprise when my feet sink into a soft sheepskin rug. Damn, that feels expensive. Much like the beautiful blue underwear set that I’ve just noticed I’m wearing.
My lingerie triggers a ghost of a memory from last night and I have a blurred recollection of sitting on the kitchen floor talking to someone. But who could I have been talking to? Nancy? No, that doesn’t feel right. But who?
I haul my ass out of bed, stumble across my bedroom like a hungover zombie, then pull open the door to find my living room has morphed into some kind of sex lounge.
My floral couch is now plush purple velvet, my cushions are zebra print, there’s a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and my bookshelf is now overflowing with what looks to be sex toys.
I walk over to get a better look and my jaw falls slack. This has got to be hundreds, no, thousands of dollars worth of some seriously kinky stuff.
Vibrators of all shapes and sizes, nipple clamps, love eggs, the works.
I pick up a smooth pebble-shaped item with a pea-sized hole and it starts sucking in a pulsing motion at the press of a button.
“Nice, but so not something that should be on display,” I mutter to myself with a shake of my head as I replace it.
I walk toward my kitchen and the sight of a stray vibrator lying on the floor next to the couch brings back another whisper of a memory, but I don’t bother trying to remember more because the only thing I care about now is getting water.
I hold my breath as I walk into my kitchen, scared of what I might find, but I’m relieved to find it looks the same. Well, almost, there’s the minor issue of the giant pile of burgers on the floor but I’m sure I’ll be able to find a reasonable explanation for that once I’ve quenched my unbearable thirst.
I pull open the cabinet to grab a glass and am knocked backward by something warm and soft slapping me in the face, then another, and another.
