Author Topic: If Horses Were Wishes (supernatural, women-on-man)  (Read 1357 times)

Offline InverseMaster

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If Horses Were Wishes (supernatural, women-on-man)
« on: August 05, 2020, 02:18:22 PM »

This story could easily fit either here or in the Supernatural category. I think the Women-Raping-Men element is a bit more unique (judging by number of posts in each category), so I'm making a judgement call and putting it here. I've posted it before, on another site, but with the same username. It is my own, original work.

Further note that while this starts out in one genre, and ends in a different one. Please be patient and read to the end before you conclude it doesn't belong here.

I mean, yes, technically our protagonist only gets what he asked for. It also shouldn't really matter that he has a safe-word, should it? Er, safe-phrase. Well, maybe it's more of a safe-monologue. But he has one! It's his own fault if he can't remember it.

And, come on, what did he expect when making a deal with a lust genie?

In case it isn't obvious, all characters are over the age of eighteen.

Many of them are over the age of eighteen hundred.

The pocket watch told perfect time and wouldn't stop ticking. I realize that this is what watches are designed to do, but it had been too long. This was getting ridiculous.

I'd bought the pocket watch for fifteen dollars and thirty five cents at an estate sale. It wasn't what I really wanted to bring home from that auction, but it was all I ended up getting.

Nominally, I was there for a new chest of drawers, but I was actually there for a chance at seeing a certain chest, and the legs attached to it, without any drawers.

My coworker Nell had a hobby restoring old furniture and she went to every estate sale she could find, searching for cheap raw material. She also had the most perfect ass I had ever seen. Listening to snippets of conversation, I was able to further determine that she wasn't in a serious relationship. That suggested an opportunity.

I dropped a few hints around the water cooler that I might be in the market for a new chest of drawers. The staples that held the particle-board drawers together had started to rip out. I'd been addressing this issue for the past two years with some strategically placed duct tape, but now the tape was beginning to detach too.

I'm not sure exactly how I managed it, but I'd held down a job for over four months at that point. I could finally afford to invest in furniture rather than another roll of duct tape.

Nell enthusiastically told me about the estate sale she was planning to attend that weekend. She also let me know her opinion of my unique furniture maintenance strategy.

"Oh my god, staples? Particle board? Duct tape???" She visibly cringed.

"You poor thing, we'll get you sorted out. Lots of good stuff cheap, you'll see! If you find something run-down or in the wrong color I'll be happy to refinish it for you at a discount."

She seemed really enthusiastic at the idea of helping me out, and I took it as a good sign.

Unfortunately, Nell showed up with a date. This had the same effect on my good mood, as the US military had on the city of Hiroshima circa 1945.

There were many dressers and chests of drawers being offered. They qualified as attractive, decent, solid pieces of furniture. They were the sort of things an adult would put in his house and use to store his clothes.

Within a few minutes of realizing that this did not, in fact, qualify as my first date with Nell, I reached a decision: I would not buy a new chest of drawers. In fact, I would never buy a new chest of drawers. The one I had was perfectly serviceable. All it needed was a little love. Home Depot sold rolls of duct tape for extremely reasonable prices and I clearly had nothing better to do with the rest of my day than to make such a purchase.

I did, however, buy the pocket watch.

Furniture was boring. That shit hadn't changed in centuries. Millennia, maybe. But a watch was a small, incredibly complex machine ticking away, doing it's thing. That was cool.

It was mechanical, with a key to wind it up. Nevertheless, when I held it up to my smart phone the time matched perfectly. I suspected someone had set the time just before the auction, but I was still impressed.

It was also a financially prudent decision. After buying the watch, I had plenty of money left over for the roll of duct tape on the way home.

One week later, I remained very satisfied with my purchase. I carried the watch everywhere, and somehow the time was always accurate.

After another week had passed I concluded that the watch was truly amazing. I hadn't had to wind it up once in the entire first week. According to my research, or rather my Google search, the better pocket watches will run down after a week or so. I hadn't wound the watch yet, and not only was it still ticking but the time was correct down to the second.

By week three, however, I had the nagging suspicion that it was not a mechanical pocket watch at all. The people at the estate sale had lied to me. There had to be a battery in there somewhere.

Maybe fifteen dollars wasn't much for a genuine antique pocket watch, but it was the principal of the thing. I'd been lied to! It was supposed to be one of those old-fashioned mechanical watches, not some modern piece-of-crap knockoff.

I was a sophisticated man, and I deserved a sophisticated time piece. The stunning, one-of-a-kind chest of drawers sitting beside me in my basement studio apartment could even qualify as modern art. The duct tape was there to symbolize the deplorable state of modern society.


And, admittedly, to hold the drawers together.

That's why I decided to remove the back of the watch. I wanted to find that battery, and prove that the auction people were full of shit. It wasn't as if they would take it back, but I needed to know for sure.

After another trip to Home Depot to get the right size screwdrivers and much fiddling with tiny screws, I got it open. I expected to see a battery, or if by some chance I was wrong, a bunch of tiny gears whirring away inside.

I did not expect to find a bubble.

A shimmery iridescent material formed a glimmering half-dome over the top of the open watch. I couldn't quite see what was beneath the reflective sheen. As if this wasn't weird enough, I realized the bubble was growing, elongating from a half-sphere to become longer, cylindrical.


This resemblance became even more pronounced as the bubble briefly shrank down a bit into the watch, and then expanded back outward. If I had to pick a single word to describe such movement, it would be 'thrusting.'

Then the music started. It was a cover of Wild Thing, with a female vocalist I didn't recognize. She was good. That voice was liquid sex.

The watch itself had taken on an ethereal sheen and was growing along with whatever was coming out of it. It grew larger then shrank along with the dick-bubble, then expanded again, larger than before. Rinse, repeat. Over and over, to the rhythm of Wild Thing.

I stood, stunned, at the impossible scene unfolding before me.

When the bubble was roughly the size of a person it burst, spraying my apartment with fluid and revealing that I was being treated to a live performance.

The watch had returned to its proper size, but this barely registered as I gaped at the woman in front of me.

If her voice was liquid sex, the rest of her was the distilled, concentrated essence of carnal delight. Her deep blue eyes matched the color of her skimpy blue bikini and perfectly contrasted with her pale skin and fiery red hair. I'd never seen a woman quite this beautiful, even on television. She put Nell to shame.

As I scanned her... assets, I also noticed she wore a bit of unusual jewelry, a simple, unadorned silver bracelet on her right arm, and three identical, solid metal rings on her left hand.

"Shake it, shake it wild thing." The impossible vision of feminine beauty put her arms on my shoulders, gyrated her hips and looked directly into my eyes as she finished her song.

"Yes, please," I said in stunned approval.

She laughed, and stepped back. "Oh baby, you need to tell me what you want before we can get started!"

"I think you already have the right idea," I told her with what I hoped was a sly grin, and not open-mouthed incredulity.

"Unfortunately, no," she said with a sigh. She leaned back, resting her beautiful bottom on the work of modern art next to my bed. "There are rules. I hate rules. Don't you hate rules?"

"Fuck the rules," I said. Now there was a sentiment I could get behind.

"I know, right? Anyway there are rules. You don't get three. One to a customer, and no take-backsies. It's gotta be in my field, which is... well. Look at me. And you can always opt out. You can now, I mean." She giggled. "Not after. That would be silly."

"What?" I'd zoned out for a bit staring at her nipples, which were quite visible through her thin bikini top.

"Surprised? Well what can I say, Disney got pretty much every single thing wrong. Fuck 'em. Those cunts are busy teaching poor little girls to pine away for Prince Charming instead of getting busy and taking what they want, am I right?"

As she said this, she briefly grabbed my ass. I was still stunned, trying to figure out what she was getting at as she went on.

"Oh, and no, there's no such thing as a wise-ass genie. That would be a specialty, wouldn't it? You'd need the right specialty to wish for more wishes. So it's not technically against the rules but I don't have any friends who might help you out there. I guess Disney didn't get it all wrong. Only almost all wrong."

Wishes? "Did you say wishes? I get wishes?"

"Wish. Singular. Has someone not been paying attention?" She put on a pouty face. It was still beautiful.

"One wish," I echoed back. "So I can wish for anything?"

"No." She sighed. "Let's start at the top. I'm what you'd call a genie. Your media types mangled the word from djinn, but that's even more wrong, because the nature of what I am comes down to binding rather than class. Except, history and etymology are total boner-killers, so let's stick with genie. That cool?"

I continued to stare. I could stare at her for a very long while. "Uh. Eti-what?"

"Exactly. Bore-ing!  Anyway, I was kinda-sorta hoping you'd figure the genie thing out seeing how I popped out of that watch, but hoo-well, there it is. What, do I gotta go with the weird hair and the cheesy music for you people? Wild Thing just happens to be more my style then the beats Barbara Eden was swinging to, that's all. That, and genies have specialties. Domains. Realms. Shit we're into. Get it? Your wish has to be in my specialty. Care to guess what that might be?"

She noticeably thrust out her impressive chest, jiggling her boobs.

A thought popped into my head which was absurd, but it seemed I had left the laws of physics behind a few minutes ago.

"You're a sex genie?"

My genie pulled a pair of reading glasses from her cleavage. This was the same thing, in a sense, as pulling them from thin air. Every millimeter of her bikini had clearly been occupied, and I was quite certain there had been nowhere in there the glasses could have been hiding. I'd been watching closely.

The genie made a gesture with her hand and suddenly, much to my dismay, she was wearing a prim suit, with her hair tied up in a bun.  She pointed at the nondescript beige wall of my apartment where diagrams of the male and female reproductive anatomy had mysteriously appeared.

"Now class, today we're going to talk about human sexual reproduction. When a man and a woman decide they want to have a child, they must combine their gametes. The male produces sperm, produced in the testes." Here she waved her arm at the scrotum on the male diagram.

"The male sperm must reach the female ova which will be traveling down her Fallopian tube, here." The prim teacher-genie then pointed to the female diagram.

"In order to accomplish this, the man inserts his penis into the woman's vagina. The sperm travels from the testes, through the penis, and into the woman, where it is free to fertilize her egg. If all goes well, nine months later a screaming poop machine is born, which will ensure the man and woman never get a good night's rest ever again. In due course, it will also eat through all available disposable income the formerly happy couple might have lying around. And that, class, is everything you need to know about sex."

She put her hands on her hips and raised her voice. "So no, I'm not a sex genie. If you and your special someone are having trouble creating a beautiful child together, then please, for the love of whatever deity you worship, don't call me. I might barf. I don't do babies."

"If, on the other hand, you see that gorgeous hottie across the room and start feeling a certain something down below, I might be able to help you with that."

As she continued she began to unbutton and remove her conservative blouse, revealing a lacy black bra that proved to be significantly more revealing than even the bikini top had been. She had impressively large areolas.

"If you've spent one too many lonely nights staring at a screen, relying on your trusty right hand to get the job done instead of feeling something real, then I might be your gal."

With her blouse gone, the apparition before me let down her hair and began sliding off her skirt. Her panties matched her bra, and were equally transparent.

"If you're after the heart-pumping, toe-curling, brain-scorching visceral experience you can only get by touching, grabbing, kissing, grinding, penetrating, thrusting, skin against bare skin, body against body? If you're ready to move by instinct, looking to feel things in places you don't even have a name for? Now, that's my style. Am I a sex genie? No. I'm a lust genie."

"Um, yes please?" I reiterated.

"So what'll it be?" She asked. "I can make anyone fall in lust with you. Not quite the same thing as love, but close enough. I can crank your sex appeal up to eleven, so you're never lonely again. I can even transport you into a different universe, your own fantasy full of exotic smokin' babes that need rescuing, from the land of elves and dragons to outer space. Anything is possible. Your wish is my command."

She paused. "Or, you could decline your wish. If horses were wishes, and all that."

This oddity managed to cut through my fantasies of rescuing busty space-babes. "You mean, if wishes were horses? You said it backwards. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride."

She screwed up her face. "Ehhh, if you say so."

"Besides, the point of that saying is that wishes aren't real," I said. "But now... either I'm hallucinating on some seriously high quality drugs here, or you're real."

Her smile was downright predatory. "Only endorphins, my dear, only endorphins."

"What?" Was I tripping? Was my subconscious trying to remind me of something I'd recently ingested?

"Endorphins are hormones. Hormones, pumping through every inch of that firm, taught body of yours. Mmmmm."

While I wasn't fat, people tended to describe me as "scrawny" rather than "firm" or "taught." And by people, I mostly mean attractive women. This was a nice change.

"I'll bite," I asked. "Why would anyone turn any of that down? Why give up a wish?"

"Oh, hardly anyone does that," the genie said. "I just had to mention it."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Well..." her massive chest bounced enticingly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Have you ever tried to program a computer?"

"I tried to build a web page once, but it sucked. Too fiddly. I had to take it down."

"Yes!" She said. "Like that. Wishes are fiddly."

"How do you mean?"

"Look, don't get the wrong idea. Do you honestly think we're trying to cause trouble? We always get a bad rap, as if genies are these evil demons, bent on mayhem and destruction. As if."

She put a carefully manicured finger to her chin, considering. "Except... I guess Robin Williams wasn't evil, but he was Disney. That might be worse. Anyway, the rules say I have to warn you. You get exactly what you ask for, but if you're not careful, you might not get what you expect. You have to be specific."

Assuming I wasn't hallucinating, that meant I had to think this through. "Is there a time limit on this wish deal? Can I think it over?"

She grinned. "No worries. Take your time. Although..." She raised a finger to her chin in consideration. "How about a trade? Keep your wish. Think it over. But how about a little quid pro quo first, hmm?"
« Last Edit: August 05, 2020, 02:42:47 PM by InverseMaster »

Offline InverseMaster

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Re: If Horses Were Wishes (supernatural, women-on-man)
« Reply #1 on: August 05, 2020, 02:20:04 PM »

Her eyes drifted to the chest of drawers covered in duct tape sitting beside my bed. She sauntered over to it, swaying her hips seductively. In fact, her every movement was seductive. "I can't help but admire this exquisite piece."

I'd been thinking earlier that it resembled modern art but that sounded absurd, even in my own head. That this woman, this vision would validate such an idea, was as difficult to believe as the possibility that genies were real. The thing was a heap of shit.

"I don't know." I pretended to consider. If it was worth anything at all, it was worth haggling over. "I've had that thing since I was a kid. I've grown rather attached to it. What are you offering?"

She placed a hand on the heap of shit and breathed in deeply and then exhaled slowly.  She looked me in the eyes.

No woman had ever given me a look like that before. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply a second time.

"Yes. Yes!  I can feel it all. The bottom drawer. Every fuzzy, sticky sock, and the clean -- well, clean-er  -- ones you keep ready to use. The USB sticks with your porn.  The lube seeping into the wood of the drawer. The condoms you bought as a freshman you were so determined to use, still in there, expired, unopened. Even the remnants of the time you tried something a little different with a rubber balloon and a paper towel tube... I can feel it.  All of it. Incredible. Delicious."

"Umm." I'd never told anyone about the balloon incident.

She opened her eyes again. "Oh! An offer. Naturally. Quid pro quo.  Let's start with your rent. You take care of my rent, I'll take care of yours. You won't have to pay a dime for housing. Cash only, though. Favors are on you. If some little vixen says you can stay with her long as you lick her clean every day, you're still going to be tasting that pussy!"

"Umm." The thought of a woman offering me free rent in exchange for oral sex was rather distracting, and quite different from my previous experiences with the opposite sex. It took a moment for my mind to switch gears back to the discussion at hand. "For how long? How many months rent are we talking?"

"Don't be silly. All of them, of course."

"You'll pay my rent forever. Okay, but wait, what if I move?" I asked. "This place is a bit small, and now that I have a job I've been thinking of finding somewhere with more space. Does that mean I'm stuck here?"

"Oh no," she said surprised. "You'll need a much bigger place than this. As soon as possible. Somewhere that can accommodate a nice big bed. I'm thinking Caesar. You ever hear of a Caesar bed? They have them in the UK. Think King sized, only bigger. Twin beds are so limiting. Then again, they do force people to lie practically on top of one another, which can be all sorts of fun. Anyway, a bigger place means a bigger bed, which means better sex, which is why I can offer you this deal. In case you were wondering, that is."

"So, what's the catch?" I asked. "You said to be careful. Well, I'll bite. What's the downside?"

She shrugged "You're gonna lose everything in the bottom drawer. I assume you've grown attached to your socks and the remains of your balloon... experiment. Oh, and I'll need that watch back too."

"The watch? But, that's your thing. Like, your lamp, right? Are you tricking me out of my wish here?"

"Oh no, sweetie!" She gushed hurriedly. "Not at all. You'll still have your chest of drawers."

I blinked. "I'm confused. You wanted it."

"The inside of it. And only the bottom drawer. That watch is dead. It's a dud. There's less lust left in there than in a nun's rosary. I need a new home, and from my perspective, your drawer is looking all warm and cozy. What do you say? Roomies?"

"But that chest of drawers is sort of big," I pointed out. I can't carry it around in my pocket like the watch."

"Look, hon." The genie was annoyed. "I hate to break it to you, but no power on Earth is getting me back inside your watch. It's empty. Done. Spent. At this point it's like a cage. Carry it around if you like, but it won't matter, it's the same as any other watch now. I'll hang around out here, thank you very much. Or, even better, we can come to terms on your  drawer."

I considered that. "What if I move and the moving company loses it? For that matter, what happens if it eventually falls apart? You might have noticed the duct tape."

She brightened up again. "Not a problem. Once I set up shop, it's bulletproof. Better than bulletproof. You could probably get away with nuking it. Second, no need for moving companies. Wherever you consider your bedroom, even if it's a tent in the woods, it will be there. Third, from now on you'll be the only one who can see it. No one will notice it, and no one will steal it. And, finally, fourth, I won't bother you at home if you have company or if you tell me you don't want me around. I promise."

I thought some more. "So, on the off chance I end up filthy rich, I'll still have this duct-tape covered thing sitting in my bedroom?"

"You grew up with it, didn't you?" There was a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "Why would you ever want to get rid of something with such profound sentimental value?"

I hesitated, which she noticed.

"Well then, you're right, you'll be stuck with it. So, let me sweeten the pot. You're a shit negotiator, by the way. You're lucky I'm in a friendly mood, and I want to be sure our relationship gets off to a good start." She emphatically thrust her chest out again.

"A handsome hunk of man-meat such as yourself will get so much further with the ladies, if you have the right wardrobe. Your newly revolutionized chest of drawers will help with that!"

She pointed to the object in question. "There are four drawers. The lower one will be mine, but you'll now be able to fit every single piece of clothing you own into the top drawer. Throw it back in there, and it will even launder, dry and fold it for you. Imagine anything in your wardrobe and it will be on top, clean and ready to wear. But that's not the best part! Next drawer down, second from the top will give you whatever clothes you think would look best on you at the time. Envision almost any outfit, and a copy of it will be there. Third from the top is for when you're not sure what you want. Pull out whatever is in there to find what I think would suit you best at a given moment. Instant, actionable fashion advice."

"And what's the fine print?" I asked. "What's the catch?" I had a feeling this was a question that needed to be asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Nothing that should matter if you aren't trying to be a smart-ass. Anything that isn't yours you pull out of the middle two drawers goes back as soon as it isn't being worn by you, and everyone but you will sort of forget it ever was wherever you left it. Also, the laundry thing won't work on more than seventy-five individual pieces of clothing a day. There are a couple more minor points, but the bottom line is, you have to use it as intended, only for clothes that you wear yourself, and you can't make money directly from it. No selling the clothes. No starting a laundromat. Oh, and no perfect duplicates of one-of-a-kind items you might have seen or heard of. If you try turn a profit, your scheme will backfire, guaranteed. On the other hand, if you only use the clothes as intended and your snappy wardrobe lands you a promotion at work that should be fine."

"Oh, and I'll admit that I want you to trust me, so you'll use your wish." She added. "Every time I grant a wish, I get a little bit more powerful. It's a genie thing. So, not only do I get a place to crash out of this, I'd like to convince you that I'm trustworthy. That, as you say, is the catch. I'm such a horrible manipulative bitch, right?"

I took a moment to think. "Okay. You're a se--, er, lust, genie, right?"

She spread her arms, exasperated. "Duh."

"Well, then. Throw in a blow job and you have yourself a deal."

Her smile was dazzling. "Oh, hell yes! Now you're speaking my language! Here's a tip though: When you're negotiating with a genie, you really should be more specific. I'm guessing you want to feel my lips wrapped around your succulent man meat, rather than the lips of the gay homeless dude who lives under a bridge a few blocks from here and never bathes. Am I right?"

"Uh. Yeah."

She put a hand to her chin, with a thoughtful look. "I could totally get him over here if that's what you're into. His name's Larry. I don't judge."

"Uh, no. No, thanks. I want you."

Her smile was back. "You want me, do you? Well, that's better. For a moment I thought I'd lost my touch. But seriously, be specific. You were doing so well up until the end. Remember, I can offer suggestions, but you're going to have to do the heavy lifting."

"Right," I agreed. "And I want a good, long blow job, long enough that I finish. With deep-throating. Oh, and you need to swallow."

"Baby, I always swallow! Do I look like the sort of up-tight prude who would treat your goods like a three-day old rancid hot-dog? I know how to give a proper blow job, don't you worry. So, anyhoo-- The rent, the full-wardrobe dresser and one extra-long blow job from yours truly, with extensive deep-throating, guaranteed to make you blow a big, fat load straight down my throat. No problemo. Do we have a deal?"

I nodded, and extended my hand to shake on it. "Deal."

She took my hand, but instead of shaking it she reached around my back with her other arm, pulled me to her and kissed me.

It wasn't a simple peck, but a long, intense embrace. She had a floral smell about her. I'm not sure what flower it was, but she smelled like a real flowers, not fake flowers, not perfume. It was the smell of a garden on a warm summer's day. Even up close, her skin was flawless and her sapphire-blue eyes were absolutely mesmerizing.

The kiss itself was raw passion.

She pulled away only after what felt like a few minutes had passed. I was panting, catching my breath when I realized there was an important question I'd forgotten to ask. "What's your name? I'm Arthur."

"Lita. A pleasure to meet you, handsome. How about I invite you in for a drink, and we see where that takes us?"

I blinked, still recovering from the kiss. "In?"

"You know, my place. I have a certain obligation to uphold, and I promise you: My bed's bigger than yours."

I eyed the dresser. It didn't look any different. That was her place now, wasn't it? Did she mean she wanted to take me inside of it?

Lita must have misinterpreted my confusion as apprehension. She rolled her eyes.

"Chill. It's not as if I could keep you forever or turn you into a genie or anything like that, even if I wanted to. Subjective time inside is the same as out here, and you can't stay longer than twelve hours unless you explicitly wish otherwise. Also, you can't die. In fact, you can't receive any new injury or affliction that won't heal on on its own within a week. Satisfied?"

"Subjective time? What..?"

She tapped her foot impatiently. "I'm not going to Rip Van Winkle you. Twelve hours inside is twelve hours outside. Come on. Your dick's not gonna blow itself, ya know?"

"Oh--kay" I said, hesitant. "So....?"

Lita bent down to reach for her drawer on my newly-permanent modern art installation, which gave me an exceptional view of her ass. Her black, lacy, virtually transparent thong was still the only thing covering it.

I'm pretty sure she wanted me to look.  In a rapid, highly-coordinated sequence of movements, she glanced back at me, winked, grabbed my arm, and opened the drawer.

The world blurred. There was no wind, yet there was a sensation of movement. It wasn't so much as if I was moving towards anything, but rather that the entire world moved past me. My apartment shrank into the distance as I stood still.

When everything solidified again, Lita and I were in a bare, damp room that might best be described as medieval. The walls and ceiling were made of dingy gray stone or maybe brick, lit by a single fiery torch burning on the wall. I couldn't tell whether the floor was dirt, or stone merely covered in dirt. There were no doors, no windows and the only thing that might be called furniture was a single, flat rock, about a three feet high that sat in the center of the room.

On top of the rock was a rectangular box filled with junk. Upon closer inspection, I recognized it as the particle-board drawer from my chest. The junk consisted of everything I'd put in the bottom drawer over the years. The watch I'd bought at the auction lay on top of a heap of old socks. A cardboard tube partly covered in a blue balloon was sticking out, off to the side.

I had the sudden, distinct fear that I'd been lied to, and that this would not end well. "Er, I thought you said your bed was bigger than mine?"

Lita laughed. "My foyer's a dump. Trust me, I know. Sorry for the mess. Gimme a sec."

She reached a hand towards the drawer sitting on the rock. The drawer and its contents began to glow with a blue light. When I looked back at Lita, I noticed it was the same shade of blue as her eyes which now glowed as well.

The light from the drawer intensified until it was the brightest thing in the room. The light grew brighter still, the color shifting from blue to pure white. In less than a minute it became painful to look at directly, so intense that it illuminated the rest of the room as if it were open and exposed to the afternoon sun.

While I couldn't look directly at it, I could see the glowing stuff slowly rise up off the rock into the air.  The radiant shape condensed into a smaller sphere about a foot in diameter and began to move.

The glowing drawer-junk-sphere slowly rotated around Lita. Her arm moved with it as if to guide the sphere in its movement around her, giving it strength, letting it pick up speed. While the sphere wasn't physically tethered to her, the way her arm moved with it gave me the impression that she was swinging it around  like a mace.

The sphere's orbit around Lita widened, and I had to duck down to the floor to keep from getting hit as it whizzed past.

The path of the sphere expanded further, spiraling outward. I realized what was about to happen only seconds before the sphere crashed into the far wall.

Everything went white. There was a sound, but it wasn't a crash or a splat. It wasn't quite the ring of a bell, or a satisfied sigh, or the sound of a loud kiss being delivered, but the best description I can manage is that it was similar to each of those three very different sounds put together. It was also completely different from any single one of them.

The light began to fade, but a large patch of the wall remained painfully bright. Over the course of half a minute the light dimmed, and I could make out details. The arched shape of an enormous metal door now extended from floor to ceiling.

The door was everything the rest of the room wasn't. While it was consistent with the medieval theme, this was the sort of door you'd find to a throne room rather than a dungeon. The metallic surface was polished to a shine and covered with intricate carvings, a remarkably detailed mural depicting a massive orgy. Hundreds of beautiful, naked women and men were going at it with wild abandon, in every possible way and several I doubted were anatomically feasible.

I got up from where I was crouched on the floor to get a better look.

"See anything you'd like to try?" Lita asked seductively from beside me. "Getting any ideas? Your wish is my command."

"Maybe." I had no intention of committing to anything yet. "But I want to relax and think it over first. You know what might help me relax?"

She grinned back. "Does it by any chance involve a certain red-haired genie swallowing every drop of sperm she can coax out of your balls?"

I nodded. "I'm glad we understand each other so well."

Lita pulled open the door and beckoned. "What are you waiting for, then?"

I stepped through the door into a building that was neither modern or medieval. It was, however, impressive.

The door opened into an enormous high-ceilinged room, three stories tall. A wide staircase on one wall had two landings above the ground floor. The wall opposite the staircase consisted almost entirely of a single floor-to-ceiling window. Dark, polished wood reinforced the glass at regular intervals, but didn't obstruct the view of the lush gardens outside. A large fountain splashed along another wall of the room.

If the light-show earlier wasn't enough proof that I was a long way home, the greenery visible through the window would have confirmed it. Green is not a color typically associated with February in Connecticut.

Turning my attention back to the palatial room, I noticed that the fountain was unusually large. In fact, it wasn't so much a fountain, as a waterfall. The entire wall opposite the door, between the staircase and the window, was made of solid granite. Water cascaded down the length of it.

The waterfall was two-tiered. Torrents of water cascaded into a narrow pool a third of the way up the wall, and then again down into a wider pool about three times the width of a bathtub that spanned the length of the wall at its base. Above the top pool, plants grew where the water provided them with moisture, though the vegetation ended there.

The lip of the pool at the base was stone like the back wall, but that gave way to the polished, hardwood floor of the rest of the room after a few feet. A large wooden table, a set of couches and a few colorful rugs with geometric patterns occupied  the center of the floor.

"It's good to be home," Lita declared. She pulled a cord hanging from the wall next to the door, and the sound of a bell reverberated throughout the house.

She seemed to be waiting for something. "It's been fifteen years since I've been back, you know," she told me. "This place has been here all along, only I couldn't get to it. Without a way to power the Gateway, without your drawer, I was stuck on the other side with the rock and the dirt and the torch. That flaming monstrosity doesn't come off the wall no matter how hard you pull. It's always lit, it's painfully hot, and it's the only thing in there that's vaguely the right shape to fill a girl up! Get the picture? Sooooo frustrating!"

Before I could comment on Lita's attempt to use the red-hot iron base of a torch as a dildo, another woman made her entrance through an archway beside the door, to our left. She wore a snug-fitting, low-cut French Maid's outfit, and it took less than a second to recognize her.

Anyone who hadn't been living under a rock for the past fifteen years would probably have recognized her. You've heard her name before, trust me. She had light brown hair and an absolutely amazing body. Seeing her here, in this costume, standing right in front of me was... an experience.

Lita gave the newcomer a brief nod, then continued, as I gawked.

"That watch? There used to be a man who loved to see how many mistresses he could have at a time without the others finding out. His timepiece was his talisman, and he used it to perfectly coordinate his delicious little trysts. One day he managed eight of them. Eight! That thing used to be so saturated with lust I thought it might power the Gateway forever. Unfortunately, when he died an accountant got a hold of it. I'm not sure if anyone ever bothered to explain to him how to use his equipment. He couldn't even see me. Might as well have been a priest! Until you came along that is. You know exactly what to do with your equipment, don't you?"

"Of course, I--" I noticed another woman coming down the staircase. She had pale skin, dark brown, almost black hair and was also instantly recognizable as a celebrity. Her French Maid outfit was identical to that of the first member of the Hollywood elite to put in an appearance.

Then there were two more. Two blondes -- a platinum blonde and a slightly darker, more traditional blonde -- stepped from behind, the waterfall, the water soaking their hair and their uniforms as the came forward. I knew the darker blonde on the left but the one on the right -- oh, yeah. Her. I knew her too. She was a porn star.

Unlike the brunettes, I could clearly see the blondes' nipples through wet fabric of their uniforms. Needless to say, I took the opportunity to study them intently.

I was distracted from this endeavor by a grinding, clanking noise above me. When I looked up, I saw that a platform was descending from above me -- a sort of open-air elevator.

A cable ran from the top of the elevator platform, across the ceiling to the waterfall, where it was attached to a bucket, which was now rising, dribbling out water as the platform descended. The bucket had an artistic curve and some ornamentation on it, making it fit in as a natural part of the room rather than a piece of crude machinery.

It occurred to me that the appropriate word for the décor in this place was, in fact: steam-punk. Everything was sophisticated, stylish, but primitive. Modern conveniences were emulated with clever, yet old-fashioned designs.

My train of thought was broken yet again when the woman riding the elevator came into view. She was a very familiar redhead. When the elevator reached the ground floor, she stepped out and took her place next to the four others.

Lita beamed at them. "Hello, ladies."

Five of the most recognizable women in modern media chorused in unison: "Welcome home, mistress."

Lita put an arm on my shoulder. "Allow me to introduce Arthur. Arthur, meet Hazel, Raven, Honey, Star and Cherry."

"Nice to meet you." What else was I supposed to say? "Ah--You're all beautiful and you look exactly like, ah-- " I was a bit unsure how to broach the fact that those definitelyweren't these women's names.

All five of them gave me the same mischievous grin. The redheaded maid spoke up, "We can look like almost anyone."

I blinked, and now a different internationally famous redhead stood before me. She was thinner, more athletic. As I processed her words and her new appearance I also noted that her voice was also perfect -- she sounded exactly like the person she resembled.

"Think of them as my servants, and in some sense an extension of myself," Lita said. "They can't exit the Gateway, but as long as I'm in here we can communicate with only a thought."

Lita tapped her head. "Each of them can look like anyone with the same hair color. That's how you can tell them apart. Cherry has seniority. Redheads should always be in charge, if you ask me."

"Now ladies," Lita addressed her retinue. "I have to say I'm a bit disappointed in you."

If she could communicate telepathically with them, why was she speaking out loud?

"I realize it's been fifteen years," Lita continued, "but that doesn't change the fact that in this house we have certain rules and protocols which I expect to be observed promptly and consistently. Need I remind you that we have a guest?"

The eyes of six beautiful women all focused on me. Then Cherry shouted: "Off with his clothes!"


"Off with his clothes!" echoed Lita

"Off with his clothes!" All six of them yelled it in unison as they converged on me.

Hands reached for my shirt, my jeans and my socks. I couldn't tell whose hand belonged to who as the six of them worked in perfect coordination to hold me in place as they quickly and efficiently pulled every scrap of clothing off of my body.

I was naked in a matter of seconds. Raven grabbed my feet, while Honey grabbed my hands. They carried me across the room towards the waterfall.

I'd mostly recovered my wits by this point and struggled against their grip. It was pointless.

Honey laughed. "You're super-cute when you squirm, you know that?"

They stopped in front of the pool below the waterfall.

"On the count of three," Lita commanded.

They started swinging me back and forth between them, counting off as they did so. First, back away from the pool, then towards it.


Back, Forward.


Back, Forward...


... Release.

I sailed through the air and into the pool. Much to my surprise, the water was warm. The pool was deeper than it looked, and I came up spluttering, treading water.

The women clapped and cheered as I bobbed to the surface. Then they started taking their clothes off too. None of them had a single hair below the neckline.

"I absolutely insist that all visitors to my home wash themselves properly, upon arrival," Lita explained, as she pulled off the skimpy, lacy underwear she'd had on for the last few hours, giving me my first look at her fully naked body.

"I hope you don't mind, the same rule applies to myself. I've been wearing this thong while in the company of a delightfully virile male specimen." She held up her underwear, then dumped it in a small tub beside the pool. "Naturally, it's positively sticky by now."

As Lita slowly lowered herself into the pool, Star called from behind her, "Which bath bombs do you want? Cinnamon Red, Minty Green or Lavender Purple?"

"Red!" Lita told her. "There's a certain chaotic energy in the smell of cinnamon that drives me wild." She shivered theatrically.

Star began throwing a few red spheres up into the ledge above the lower tier of the waterfall. The water tumbling into the pool below began to churn with foam, turning a glittering pink color as the powerful smell of cinnamon filled the air.

"This way," Lita pulled me as she swam along the length of the narrow pool, towards the  other end. "While there's a time and a place for a nice leisurely soak, this isn't it. I have a promise to keep, and more to the point: I'm horny."

I felt my feet touch the bottom. As I moved towards the other end, the pool quickly became much shallower until it was only a few inches deep. Lita's five servants were also naked at this point, giving me an outstanding view of five of the most famous women on Earth as they showered off beneath the cascading pink suds.

Hazel handed me a sponge. "Help a girl out and wash my front? I'm extra dirty!"

As I was reaching for her chest with the sponge, Raven took my arm and turned me towards her. She was dressed exactly like Hazel, which is to say not at all. "You should know, I'm dirtier than her. Maybe you could wash my back?" She bent over, grabbing her ankles, giving me an excellent view of an ass that, to the best of my knowledge, had never done porn.

I felt myself being pushed under the stream of falling water, and a sponge move over my back. "Wash yourselves," Star said from behind me. "We're supposed to be cleaning him, not the other way around, remember?"

Cherry moved in from the side, running a washcloth over my balls, and then very gently up my shaft. As she did so, she whispered in my ear "You know, if it were up to me, I'd go so, so much further. But, from what I hear, you promised Lita that you'd let her  swallow. You have no idea how angry she'd be if I accidentally spoiled her fun."

While the breathtaking display of the female form unfolding around me had me somewhat distracted, her phrasing stood out as a bit odd. "Uh... I promised her...?" I repeated slowly, "That I'd let her...?"

"She's right you know." Lita said in a stage whisper as she emerged from the spray of the waterfall, right in front of me. "If she set one of my toys off too soon, I'd slap that sweet ass of hers in chastity faster than you can say, 'presumptuous bitch.' Then I'd let her stew for a century or three. Isn't that right, Raven?"

Both Raven and Cherry glanced at each other, saying nothing. They both looked uncomfortable. Extraordinarily beautiful, yet uncomfortable.

"Oh that's right, it was only three-quarters of one. Silly me," Lita corrected herself. "I was feeling generous at the time."

"Hey, uh, toys?" I asked. It came out a little higher pitched and a little less authoritative than I intended. "You're a genie, right? What happened to master?" 

"Mmm. You want me to call you master now?" Lita inquired with a raised eyebrow. "Is someone into BDSM?"

She grabbed her ankles, presenting me with her ass, exactly as Raven had. "Go on then, smack it, master."

There was only one thing to do. I smacked that ass.

"Oh, yes, master. Harder!"

I spanked her again, harder. I then had to pause and rub my sore hand, because evidently when two body parts collide at high velocity they both feel the impact. This is probably why paddles were invented.

Lita stood up. "That all? Sweetie, we're going to have to work on your pain tolerance, and maybe your upper body strength if you want to explore this kink of yours any further. Though, I have to say, you're looking mighty fine right now. Why don't you check a mirror?"

Cherry hurried over to a cabinet under the staircase, and brought back a carved, wooden hand mirror. As she jogged across the room, her jiggly bits jiggled. The display of vigorously bouncing nipples was enough to hold my gaze, even in the current, absurdly erotic environment.

I found myself focusing on the mirror even though Cherry positioned it right between her tits. What I saw reflected was even more incredible.

It was obviously me... but it was a better version of me. I hadn't turned into a body-builder, but there was actual muscle definition there. My hair which usually consisted of an unruly brown mop, looked different, and not merely because it was sopping wet. It certainly wasn't well-managed, but it fell more naturally into a pleasing arrangement. My face reflected in the mirror was the same, yet ever-so slightly different. Better.

Then I looked down, where I didn't need a mirror to see. I mean, yeah, under the circumstances, it shouldn't have been a surprise that I had the biggest erection ever. However--

Normally, I'm about average. Well, okay, maybe not average if we're, talking about using the official, technical way of measuring from above, rather than the underside where your balls are. But no one does it that way, right?

So, I'm about average.

Fine, I'm below average. Happy?

My point though, is that right at that moment, I wasn't average. Alright, alright, maybe I was never average, but what I'm getting at is that I wasn't average in a good way.

I'd gotten big. Male porn star big. Photo-shopped male porn star big.

"See how much better this is, now that we have you all washed up?" Lita asked conspiratorially.  "There's a reason I insist all guests bathe on arrival."

"That, and we have to get 'em naked somehow," Honey chimed in. "There aren't any bathtubs or showers in this house. You have to get clean out here where everyone can watch." She licked her lips.

"Modesty is such a dirty word!" It was Hazel's turn to comment.

"Literally!" Star finished the thought for her.

"Um." I was still staring down in wonder at my new monster schlong. "You sure you're going to be able to deep-throat all of... this? You did promise."

Evidently, this constituted a joke. All six of them simultaneously broke into laughter.

"Sweetie, you're hilarious," Lita assured me. "The day I can't fit a cock down my throat is the day I join the Catholic Church, take a vow of chastity and try being a nun for a while. Not. Happening."

"Does that mean you're going to quit stalling and actually do it?" I asked.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Lita declared. "I've got a bed twice the size of your entire apartment... building upstairs, but I saw you eyeing my garden out the window earlier. It's beautiful out there, isn't it? How about if we go up to the roof, and you can lie back on the biggest, cushiest beach chair you ever saw. You can sip a nice, tall drink and enjoy the fresh air, while I get to work.  I do recall asking you in for a drink, and I always keep my promises."

"Sounds perfect. Let's do it now." I said. "How long will it take to get to the roof?"

"I don't know. How fast can you run up stairs?" Lita asked. "Hey girls, I'll meet you at the top. Show him the way, and be quick about it. He'll enjoy the view from behind, I'm sure. Give him a workout. Last one of you five to reach the top has to put clothes back on. Go."

They took off at a dead run towards the stairs. Five famous, naked, curvy posteriors undulated in unison. Ten perfect breasts bounced and rippled.

"Well?" Lita raised an eyebrow, when I looked back at her.

I considered protesting that forcing me to run up a bunch of stairs was stalling, but thought better of it. At least the view would be -- no, rather, it would remain -- exceptional.

I ran after the pack of rapidly retreating, rhythmically swaying bare bottoms.

Offline InverseMaster

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Re: If Horses Were Wishes (supernatural, women-on-man)
« Reply #2 on: August 05, 2020, 02:21:32 PM »
Ever try to run with a giant erection? It's less than ideal.

While I raced up the stairs after them, the artwork was striking enough to distract from the live display and my own awkwardly swinging dick. There was a pattern here: Every time I turned my head I found some new, erotic site that surpassed what I'd been looking at before.

While I had vaguely been aware that the staircase was lined with books and erotic artwork, I hadn't had a chance to take a closer look until now. I couldn't stop to examine the books but the art was shocking in more ways than one.

The artwork consisted of scenes from familiar movies. Sex scenes. Lurid, hardcore, scenes that had never been filmed, and shouldn't exist. Yet, here they were.

The first few I didn't recognize. They were black and white but were no less explicit than the ones further on. The first one I recognized was Clark and Lois from the really old Superman movies. A few dozen steps after that, my breath faltering, I had no trouble identifying Han and Leia.

I quickly discovered that the steps extended well beyond the large room with the waterfall. Above that point, the staircase flattened out, with long steps, each several feet deep. This was less of a staircase and more of an upward-slanting hallway, with rooms branching off on one side and windows on the other.

The movie artwork continued along the side of the hallway opposite the windows, in roughly chronological order. It was sort of like a game: Guess which movie that one comes from.

There was one with that elf guy, or rather the actor who played him, but his face was all messed up. And when was he with her? Oh. Oh yeah, I got it. It was him, but he never showed his actual face in that movie, did he? Next...

Now, that was freaky. Yeah, the actors were over eighteen by the end, and this looked like these were supposed to be from one of the final movies in the series, but still... those were sort of kids movies, weren't they? Sort of. Then I came to a full stop, pointed to one picture and exclaimed: "Hey. Hey! I saw that series, and it was never even implied that those two..." I really didn't feel the need to finish the sentence.

Hazel -- of course it was Hazel -- paused mid-stride and turned to look back and answer me with a wink. "I'll let you in on a secret. The thought of those two has gotten more juices flowing than the rest of these others combined. Maybe it wasn't implied, but think of that relationship as aspirational."

Then she was off again, and I resumed huffing and puffing, to keep pace with that athletic ass.

An ass-pirational ass. Hah.

Up we went. While my attention was focused more on the extraordinary art than the rooms branching off, I was vaguely aware that we passed several closed doors, several more that opened onto enormous, lavish bedrooms, and finally past open archways that led into a huge library, at least as big as the waterfall room.

Mercifully, the only thing above the library was the roof.

The fresh air was warm, but not too warm. The sky was clear blue. A butterfly meandered across the rooftop. After months of snow and cold rain in Hartford, it was almost as welcome as the beautiful, naked Lita waiting expectantly, licking her lips, beside a lounge chair.


The lounge chair was velvety soft and almost as large as my twin-size bed. I plopped down on it, and found myself looking over the gardens.

Something cold was pressed into my hand. "Here you go!" Star said, as she handed me a large glass with a red, curly straw in it. "One nice,tall, cold glass of lemonade."

Star was wearing her French maid outfit again, while Lita's other servants remained nude. Evidently she'd lost the race, even though Hazel had been the one to pause for a moment to answer my question. By the end of the climb, I wasn't exactly paying attention to which of them was directly in front of me.

I took a sip. "Hey, when you invited me in for a drink I thought you meant--"

Lita made a face. "Were you expecting booze?"

"Well, uh, yeah."

"Eww. Occasionally necessary for social lubrication, but we'll have none of that around here. Whiskey-dick is the worst. Stay away from that piss if you can help it."

I took another sip from my drink. While nonalcoholic, the lemonade was still good. "Sure."

"Now," Lita licked her lips again, and knelt in front of me. "I think I've let you stall long enough. Spread 'em wider."

Before I had time to react, she grabbed each of my legs right above the knee and pulled them further apart with a considerable amount of force.

"Me? I wasn't the one--" I broke off mid-sentence as I felt her her mouth on my cock.

Oh. My. God.

My erection, which had been flagging a bit after the run was back in full-force the moment her tongue made contact. It's near impossible, not to mention uncomfortable, to run any distance while sporting wood, okay? You try it.

Lita hadn't been exaggerating when she claimed to know how to give a proper blow job. As promised my new and impressive size posed no problem for her whatsoever.

She was amazing.

Her lips were wrapped tightly around the very base, her nose buried in my pubic hair. I wasn't quite sure how she managed to move her tongue to stimulate my cock that way but... damn. It seemed to curve around my length while simultaneously pressing and rubbing the head.

After applying her eye-popping tongue technique to the entire shaft for at least a minute, she began bobbing her head along it. As she moved, she managed to focus the stimulation at exactly the right spot along the underside. It was hard to tell if the sensation was primarily from her lips or her tongue, but it didn't matter. The effect was shockingly intense.

She moved at exactly the right speed: fast enough to make me gasp for breath, slow enough that I wasn't quite ready to explode.

Lita was delivering the perfect blow job.

Except... I had one tiny little concern: She avoided calling me master.

It was dumb, I knew it was dumb, but I couldn't quite shake it. Also, the point of a blow job is that it's supposed to make a guy feel special, right?  Above and beyond the climax, I mean. Special, as in, an act of submission. It's supposed to make a guy feel like he's being served. Like he's important. Powerful.

As Lita's tongue worked its magic, I met her gaze. Her sapphire eyes bore into me. That was not the expression of a woman submitting to a man. She was eyeing me the way a dog might stare at a juicy steak.

I turned my head away, and took a big gulp of lemonade. I concentrated on the wondrous sensations she was delivering, felt the breeze run over my skin, let my eyes wander over the other naked, nubile beauties on the rooftop and the view of the lake.

So what if Lita was enjoying this too? What did that matter? That was a good thing. No, a great thing. That meant she actually wanted me.

No billionaire could ask for more than I had right at that moment.

I was in control. I was.

On the other hand, that wasn't loving adoration I saw in Lita's eyes. Her piercing stare made me feel ever-so-slightly uneasy. The word that kept going through my mind was: prey.

That was silly, right? I was getting exactly what I'd asked for. There was no reason whatsoever not to lay back and enjoy.

I was getting close. Lita was deliberately going slower now, letting the tension increase without ending things too soon. Nevertheless, I was fairly certain I wouldn't last much longer.

"Ah," I exhaled, hard. "I'm about to--"

Lita stopped. With my entire length still  down her throat, she somehow pulled her tongue back and ceased all movement at exactly the wrong moment.

I didn't come, but my whole body shuddered so violently that I dropped the now-empty lemonade glass I was holding. "Aaaah!" I groaned. "Come on!"

Cherry caught the glass and giggled. "Aww, poor baby. She loves doing that. The longer she teases you, the more you'll give her when the time comes."

After a few seconds, long enough so that I was no longer going to explode at the slightest touch, Lita resumed what she'd been doing but at a slower pace.

Raven stood beside Cherry and chose that moment to lean down towards me. Her breasts were directly in front of my face. "You don't have to stare, you know. Would you like to touch instead?"

"Hey!" Honey appeared, on my other side. "You have options. Do you like blondes?"

I didn't need to be asked twice. I reached up and rather crudely grabbed both of them, one boob in each hand. I'm pretty sure such a direct move, without any sort of foreplay, would have gotten me slapped in the real world.

"Mmmmm," They sighed in perfect unison, as I kneaded the soft flesh of their breasts. Evidently, the rules of the real world didn't apply here.

Growing bolder, I pinched Raven's erect nipple. She shivered, then grinned wider than before. "Oh fuck, don't stop!"

Cherry frowned and folded her arms. "Helllooo? I'm over here. If you're a boob-man I got you covered."

The redhead's appearance blurred and shifted. Her small athletic figure was replaced with a very different, very curvy and equally recognizable body.

There was no way I wasn't going to give those tits some love. I moved the hand I was using to grope Raven to Cherry instead.

"No fair!" Raven cried.

Cherry shrugged and smirked. "Sore loser."

Then it was Raven's turn to shift. This time I didn't recognize her... maybe a porn star, like Star? Whoever she was, her boobs were now larger than Cherry's.

But not larger than Honey's. I felt the skin I held in my left hand expand. She, too, had shifted.

The sudden explosion of breasts coupled with Lita's ministration had me close to the edge once more. I was about to--

"Goddammit!" She did it again. She fucking did it again.

This time I thrust upward hard, trying to push myself deeper down her throat, to get enough stimulation to come. I tried, but I did not succeed. Lita's grip on my thighs was like iron.

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. Lita waited at least ten seconds before she winked and returned to her work on my cock.

The smiles on her minions' faces were as large as their bulging mammaries.

"How many times are you going to do that?" I demanded. "Get me off already! We had a deal!"

"Did you by any chance negotiate how long she could tease you?" Cherry asked. She glanced to Lita, who shook her head, no, while continuing to suck me off.

"Oh, come on!" I still had to admit that it was better than not getting any action at all.

Besides, could I really be irritated that I'd have to tolerate celebrity breasts the size of watermelons being thrust in my face for a little longer? No. That was stupid. I was being ridiculous.

"Ladies, Ladies," Hazel made an appearance. Or rather, her ass did. "You're assuming he's a boob man."  She was facing away from me, her naked posterior presented for my inspection to my immediate right.

"I don't want him to get the wrong idea." Hazel went on. "There's nothing off limits around here. Well, except for Star right now. Sorry babe!"

I was dimly aware of the platinum blonde sulking nearby. However, I was primarily distracted from her by Lita's attentions and the difficult decisions I was being forced to make: I only had two hands to explore eight naked breasts and eight bare cheeks all competing for my attention.

At this point everything started to blur together. While I ran my hands over every inch of skin my hands could find, Lita was hard at work. Once again, I felt -- no, I knew I was about to come.

The third time is supposed to be the charm, isn't it? The hero always gets three wishes, or has to defeat three monsters, or has three attempts at whatever he needs to do. Naturally, given the fantastic nature of my surroundings, I sort of figured that applied here. Right? Right?


"Aghhh!" It was a struggle to find words to convey my frustration as, once more, Lita stopped a nanosecond too soon. "Fuck! Son of a bitch. Try that again and I'm pretty sure my balls will explode!"

"Oh my!" Honey was positively giddy. "I've never seen that happen before. This will be so much fun!"

Cherry pressed a hand on my chest pushing me flat against the back of the chair. "Lean back and enjoy, sweetie. It'll happen when it happens." Then she leaned down further, forcing her nipples into my face.

Things devolved, and my memory started to get a bit hazy. I can confirm, however, that my balls did not, in fact, explode when Lita edged me the fourth time. Or the fifth time. Or the sixth time. Or... honestly I lost count.

I wouldn't have believed it possible that anyone could so accurately read my body, to know exactly when to stop. However, Lita was doing it over and over with merciless precision. It must have been a lust genie thing.

At some point I had to admit to myself I wasn't actually having much fun anymore.

Unfortunately, this realization did not alter my predicament one bit. I remained helplessly pinned to the chair by four very naked, very determined women. As beautiful as they were, my balls ached. In fact, my whole body ached with the pent-up frustration.

"Please. Oh fuck. Please, enough already! Let me come!" I was shrieking. Or was I whimpering? It was one of the two.

"Already?" Raven asked. "You can stay for a full twelve hours, you know. You still have another eight hours and fifty four minutes left."

Nine hours. I couldn't last through another nine hours of this. I simply couldn't. I'd go completely insane. "I can't." I croaked. "I can't. I'll- I'll-- goddamn-motherfucker-son-of-a-aaaaaaaaa!"

Add one to however many times Lita left me teetering on the precipice without relief. The painful not-orgasm spasm of my cock was so intense that I was worried I might pass out.

Exactly like the last however many times she did it.

"I'm begging, here. Please, you've got to let me come already. Please. You've had your fun."

"Awww," Cherry said, holding my cheek in her hand, while firmly holding my body down with the other. "We're only thinking of you. Aren't you having fun?"

"Not anymore!"

"And if you're not happy now, what makes you think losing a few teaspoons of cum will make you any happier?" Honey picked up the thread of the conversation.

"I'd say it's worth a shot. Please? Come on, please?"

"I don't know about that." Raven ran her hand over my chest. "Your body seems so eager. So alive, right now. Are you sure? Because that doesn't sound right at all."

"Yes. Fuck, yes."

It was Cherry's turn again. "Yes, that doesn't sound right? Or yes, you're sure you want to come?"

"I want to fucking come already! Now. For the love of-- I need it now. Now!"

"Well, maybe." Raven put a finger to her chin as if she was considering a deep philosophical question.

"And you're really sure? Because you might regret it." Cherry asked. "So you're, like, really, really, super-duper, for-real sure?"



I felt Lita speed up, and I felt the tension grow and grow while her four minions smiled down at me, with their mischievous smiles.

I could tell then that Lita wasn't going to let me come. I was going to have to go through nine more hours of this. I was going to lose my mind.

I braced myself. I was there at the brink again and... yep. I screamed and shook violently as she put a stop to the monster orgasm I could have had. Exactly as she had so many times before, exactly as I knew she would.

This time, however, was different. Instead of waiting for me to cool down, Lita paused for only a second or two. She had me teetering on the brink, and then  took me all the way down her throat. Her tongue writhed madly around my shaft.

I had no idea it was possible to experience anything quite that intense. My vision blurred. I thrashed, but it was a spontaneous, involuntary reaction. All I could hear was the howling blood in my ears. My entire world narrowed down to the searing sensation of relief as I pump, pump, pump, pumped my cum down Lita's throat.

Every orgasm I'd ever had in my twenty-three years of life up to that point was a pale imitation of what Lita had brought out of me.

True to her word, Lita was gurgling and sucking, swallowing down every drop I gave her.

"Daaaaamn," I breathed deeply, as I recovered. "Wow. Yeah. Wow. That was-- Oh, uh, okay, you can stop now, that's all of it."

She didn't stop.

"Hey, whoah. I came, alright? It's a bit much for -- Aah! Yeah, that's enough for now."

Not only didn't Lita stop, she sped up.

"Oh, you didn't think she'd be satisfied after your first load, did you?" Cherry asked.

"But I'm done!"

"Silly boy," Honey giggled. "They all say that. It takes a little extra persuasion, is all. For a lust genie, you ejaculations are like potato chips. One is never enough."

The sensation of Lita's masterful tongue on my most sensitive spot transitioned from ecstasy to torture. The quick, slick movement was too much for me to handle so soon after climax.

"Just stop for a moment. Stop! A moment! Let me-- Oh fuuuuu--"

There was a thump and I found the back of the chair reclined down to a level where it was flat, making it more like a cot than a chair. Someone grabbed each of my arms and held them tightly above my head.

When I tilted my head to look behind me I found Star, still fully clothed. She was the one restraining my arms. "This is the part where you're probably going to wiggle, but not to worry: I gotcha!"

"Fuck, that hurts!" Lita's over-stimulation of my cock was becoming more painful with every passing moment. "Stop, stop!"

"Ooh, someone's hamming it up!" Raven cooed. "Not ideal. Better if he'd hurry and get it up again but, whatever. He will. Nowhere near ready to use his safe word. Deep down, he's loving this treatment, aren't you, handsome?"

"Safe word? What-- ah--. Oh gah- No, no-- Wha-- Fuck. Ah, fuck. Wha- What safe word?" I demanded, between desperate, squirming shrieks.

As I understood it, a safe word was a way to communicate that a sexual encounter, particularly one where there was a power-play dynamic, should end. That way someone could yell 'stop' without meaning it, and still be able to communicate they wanted to stop by yelling the safe word.  To be honest, up until that moment, I'd always considered the idea of a safe word rather lame -- if you're going to agree to the whole power-play thing, why not do it for real?

Except, I never agreed to any sort of power-play thing in the first place, with or without safe words. In fact, I was reasonably sure no one had mentioned any sort of safe word at all. Under other circumstances I would have been one-hundred percent on this, but Lita's tongue was quickly loosening my grip on reality, one firm, brutal, excruciating slurp at a time.

"Does someone not remember his safe word?" Cherry asked. "You know it. You do. You're being coy, aren't you?"

"No!" I wracked my mind for any safe word I'd ever heard in any context. "Red. Foliage. Pineapple. Banana. Pork and beans. Pumpkin butter. I don't fucking know!"

"Oh, you! Pumpkin Butter?" Honey asked as she shifted into... exactly who I should have expected. "That's not your safe word."

Raven shifted as well. "Or were you thinking of me? Actually, I don't care. You're making too much noise. Time to sit on your face."

Then she sat on my face.

Over the next few minutes I had the unique experience of screaming uncontrollably into A-List pussy.

"Ooooh! Yeah, like that. I know you're, like, ah,ah, ah-- freaking out?" Raven was attempting to have a conversation and ride my face at the same time. "But is there anyway you can do the alphabet or something? Change it up? Not that I'm complaining. Just asking."

Given the circumstances, I could only manage a strained, muffled yowl in reply.

"Yeah, yeah. Harder, like that. I think I warned you you might regret coming so quickly the first time, didn't I? Oh, yeah. Ah- yeah! Now, could you scream a little to the left?"

When Raven was done, Honey took a turn, followed by Cherry. A blur of wet, pungent female flesh and the overwhelming pressure on my cock filled my world. Unlike Lita, herself, her minions did not have a pleasant floral smell. Their pussies smelled -- and tasted -- like pussy. I did note, however, that after Raven shifted into someone else, and took another turn, her scent and taste changed. I had to wonder whether those attributes were as authentic as their appearances and voices.

As my forceful introduction to the subtleties of female anatomy continued, the tenderness in my own anatomy worsened. However, Lita's attentions were slowly growing my arousal once more. I found myself simultaneously hurting and horny.

Unfortunately, Lita didn't stop after my second orgasm either.

"Fucking succubus bitch!" I shrieked as Raven let me up for air after her second session on my face. Lita continued to attack my hypersensitive member with her tongue. "Please stop already. I'm so done. Just stop. Please, please, please. stop. Oh god. Oh! Ahhhhhh fu--"

Honey sat on my face again. "Succubi, is that what you think we are?" She scooched her ass around on my face, getting comfortable. "Meep! Buzz. Wrong. You think we're going to fuck your soul out of you? First, souls aren't actually a thing Second, you can't get seriously injured here. Didn't Lita tell you? I think she did. Guaranteed recovery in one week or less. Isn't it great?"

Independent of how long it would take to recover, a certain very important part of my anatomy was, in my opinion, being 'seriously injured.' Unfortunately, my mouth was too full of female genitalia to voice a coherent retort.

"Well, we think it's pretty great," Cherry commented, from beside me. "No, we don't want your soul. We want your willpower. That's what genies are, you know, it's what we're made of. We can't make our own, but Humans! You humans are willpower generators. Every day you make more and then spend it on work, on games, on sex. If you spend it on a genie we make it part of ourselves, use it to grow stronger, open the Gateway a little bit further. Your desire is a form of will. Every time you come down her throat, you give Lita that energy. Don't worry, though. You'll make more soon enough."

"Want to guess why all lust genies are ladies?" Raven asked.

"He's probably worked it out." Honey said. "As you may have noticed, men tend not to sustain their arousal the way a woman can. A male embodiment of infinite, passionate desire simply makes no sense."

"After all," Cherry concluded, "What do you think the point of a wish is? A wish is a desire, a strong one. A desire is nothing but a form of will, the stronger the desire the stronger the will. When a genie is bound, we're limited in how we can gather the will we need. Granting a wish means your desire is fulfilled and that willpower can be transferred to us. A bargain fulfilled is much the same. And if a human voluntarily makes a wish or a bargain to offer us more of his own willpower? That's best of all!"

When I came for the third time, it felt as if I was pissing acid. So soon after the previous climaxes, ejaculation itself became agonizing.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Safe word! Whatever it is, I'm using it!  Tell me. Safe word, safe word, safe word!"

Raven shook her head. "No, you have to say it."

"It only works if you tell me what it is. Tell me!"

"You're lucky you even have a safe word," Honey chimed in. "We don't like safe words around here. Safe words are totally lame. They only matter if your will isn't strong enough. If you don't want it enough!"

Raven shrugged. "You heard him earlier, he's into BDSM. I guess he needs his safe word safety blanket."

In fact, whips, chains and leather weren't exactly my thing. I'd merely been trying to communicate that I would prefer the title of master rather than sweetie. However, I was long past the point of being able to argue.

Cherry rolled her eyes. "Sooo lame! Fine, if you insist, let me spell it out for you." She took a long, deep breath and then spoke rapidly:

"I wish that the oral sex already provided by the lust genie I know as Lita will fulfill all requirements of the clauses relating to a blow job included as part of the bargain that I made to secure free housing and wardrobe services, that upon fulfillment of this wish I will be immediately returned to my own bedroom in Hartford Connecticut without any discrepancy or jump in subjective or objective time, that I will not be subjected to any further sexual acts or any other acts I might find objectionable in the brief instant prior to my return, and finally that this wish will be executed in a straightforward fashion without any subtle adjustments unrelated to the primary intent that could potentially impact my future."

I missed most of that. Only one word stood out: wish.

My "safe word" was my wish. My one and only wish.

But I could change it right? Expand it? I could wish for more than the blow job to stop. I could ask for all sorts of things in addition to that, wrap it all up in a single wish. I could have--

I almost opened my big fat mouth, but I stopped myself in the nick of time. I couldn't make any wish at all. It was a trap.

Cherry had droned on for half a minute, and there was no way I could spit it back  verbatim, and every word mattered. That's how I'd gotten myself into this situation, not thinking the wording of things through. Trying a wish and failing would likely be very bad. Trying to expand on it would be worse.

"No!" My voice was getting pretty raw by this point. "Fuck you! I'm not falling for that!"

"I knew it!" Raven crowed. "I told you this one's not ready to pop. Now that he has his safety blanket, he'll be fine. Isn't that right? Isn't that right, sweetie?"

I certainly didn't feel fine, and it only got worse. Lita kept going, and Cherry climbed on to my face next.

I would certainly have cracked if I believed I could have done it properly, remembered each of Cherry's words. I couldn't remember though, which meant that anything I tried was likely to be worse than waiting it out. I had no choice but to suffer.

Over, and over, I had to keep reminding myself: Attempting a wish would only make it worse. Don't do it. Don't do it. Oh god, it hurt, it hurt, but... Don't do it.

I blocked out much of the memory from the later part of that session with Lita. There's a point after which things get so bad your brain shuts down.

I do remember mild surprise at seeing Honey shift into a dark skinned woman with blonde hair.  I hadn't expected her ethnicity to shift like that, even if her hair remained the same. Apparently that wasn't a limitation.

Likewise, I was surprised to find myself ravished by a few figures from the past, both living and dead actresses as they appeared many, many years ago. At one point I leaned back to find Star, still securely restraining my hands, still wearing her uniform, masquerading as Marilyn Monroe.

I also remember Honey ripping a piece of fabric off of the chair under me, explaining where my P-spot is and giving me a not-so-gentle introduction to an extra-extra-large anal dildo. Perhaps the best way to communicate the torment that Lita was inflicting on my manhood is to say that my initial reaction was to believe it couldn't be much worse than what was already happening. It wasn't, either... at first.

Then, exactly as Honey explained, that monster invader made contact with something inside me in a way that was downright indescribable. I came yet again in spontaneous, fiery agony.

Mostly, however, I remember struggling, begging, crying and screaming on, and on, and on until I blacked out.

* * *

When I woke up it felt as if my cock had been run over by a steamroller and someone had driven a locomotive up my ass. The room was dark, so it took a few moments to ascertain that I was in my own bed, back in Hartford, back in the real world.

Lita, still naked, was there too. She sat on the side of my bed, idly stroking my aching, flaccid penis.

"Aghmemblulfugh." I wasn't quite capable of forming words yet.

"I'm here sweetie," Lita murmured as her hands drifted upward to rub my back. "I'm here. Does someone need some after care? Boys are all so fragile."

As stunning as Lita was, I pulled away and pulled the sheets on my bed over my naked body. Now I knew her for what she truly was.

"Aww, don't be like that," she said, leaning closer and grabbing the sheet but not pulling it away. "Modesty doesn't suit you."

I didn't say anything and continued to cling tightly to my sheet as I eyed her warily.

"The fact is, you're quite the hunk. Don't you think?" Lita pulled, or rather materialized, a mirror out of her cleavage. It was the same hand mirror Cherry brought me in the waterfall shower.

I didn't immediately see what she wanted to show me, but it clicked after a few seconds: The image reflected back at me was the image of better-me. I was still enhanced, back in the real world.

I whipped the sheet off and looked down. As soft as I was, I could tell I was larger than usual. Much larger. Larger than I usually was when fully erect.

Shocked, I still wasn't sure what to say.

"Don't worry, anyone who sees you like this will still recognize you. They won't think there's anything odd except that you're looking extra-sexy today. All those beautiful girls at your office will simply ask themselves why they never noticed you before now."

I finally found my voice. "Really?"

"Oh, yes," Lita assured me. "You realize, of course, that no matter what happens in my home, you'll recover after a week. I told you that. Next week, those same ladies will all be shaking their heads wondering why they ever noticed anyone so bland and plain... and small."


"But my door, your drawer, is always open," Lita assured me. "Always. Ooh! And you didn't use your wish yet!"

It was hard to sound authoritative under these conditions, but I attempted it. "I told you, I need to think it over."

"Naturally." Lita licked her lips. "Holding out took a bit of willpower. I know, because it was all so delicious. Anyhoo- if you find yourself feeling all dirty and you want to pop in, then my Gateway is always wide open for you. I'm always happy to share some fluids. Be sure you have a solid twelve hours to spare, though, because you simply can... not... rush a good time!"

That was a rather twisted way of saying that if I wanted to bathe in her waterfall to keep my enhanced appearance and monster cock, I'd have to go through all of that again. Once a week.

"I..." I hesitated. My cock lightly brushed against the sheet as I moved slightly. That gentle contact was uncomfortable in my current state, which made up my mind. "I'll respectfully decline."

"Oh! No need to make up your mind now! Not at all. Get some rest. Feel better. A week or three from now you're going to be thinking about how much fun you had tonight, about how you're feeling maybe a teeny bit lonely. You'll be rethinking things, hankering for an evening of good clean fun. I don't need any special genie powers to know that, either. That's simply how boys think. One moment it's 'fuck me silly', the next it's 'stop, stop, stop', and then before you know it we're back to 'fuck me silly'. So inconsistent, so temperamental."

"Good clean fun?" I asked, incredulous.

"In my home, bathing isn't merely a perk. It's mandatory!" Lita declared. "And by the way..." She arched an eyebrow seductively and trailed off.


"Next time, you can put it anywhere!"

"And will you keep forcing it in, after I come the first time?"

"Maaaaaaaaaybe." Lita bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling.

"So, explain something to me." I said. "You have a thing for my jizz, right?"

Lita nodded. "See, you're fine. You get it."

There was no world in which what I was feeling could be considered fine, but I ignored that for the moment. "So, you'd be more likely to get a repeat performance if you agreed to stop after the first time. Maybe we could reach some sort of agreement?"

She smirked. "Oh baby, if you want to negotiate another deal that would be lovely. I can make as many bargains as you can handle, though you only get your one wish. Is someone feeling clever?"

I should have expected that. Safely negotiating anything with a genie would probably require a team of high-power, corporate lawyers.

However, I was reminded of something she said earlier when she first mentioned my wish. "Okay, okay, but before, you were saying... well you implied that the rhyme was wrong. You said it backwards. If wishes were horses, if horses were wishes. What were you talking about?"

Lita jumped up and down and clapped her hands. Her spectacular tits bounced with her, but for once, I was in no shape to properly appreciate the display.  "Ooh! Ooh! You remembered! I knew you were special!"


"I created that rhyme. Me! Then some idiot twisted it around and changed the meaning. It's not my fault everyone ignores my advice. It's like a disclaimer. Or, what do you call 'em now? Oh, yeah, it's an End User License Agreement on your wish:"

"If horses were wishes then wise men would walk,
A single wrong word means you're in for a shock,
For wishes are bitches that can mess with your cock."

I rubbed my temple. "Right."

"Ooooh! Squeeee!" She actually said the word 'squee.' Lita bunched her fists and jumped up and down again. "We're going to have so much fun together, you and me! Lita and Arthur! Roomies for-evvah!"

She thrust the handle of the mirror into my hand. "Take this. Now, I don't want to disturb your shut-eye. Might want to call in sick, though, unless you feel up to going on the prowl at the office today. Now, there's a thought, right?"

Glancing out of my tiny basement window, I could tell the sun was starting to come up outside. When I turned away from the window, Lita was gone.

She had been right. It was time to get ready for work or call in sick. I opted for the latter. There was no way I could go in like this.

In fact, when I made the call, my douche-nozzle boss didn't bother to grill me on exactly how sick I was. When I had the flu a month ago, he demanded that I describe my symptoms. I must have sounded really awful.

As I climbed back into bed, I noticed the back of Lita's hand mirror had something carved in it: A lust genie drained my balls and all I got was this lousy mirror.

I couldn't quite cope with the absurdity at that moment. I set down the mirror, resolved to deal with the whole lust genie situation later, and tried to get some sleep.

That concludes the first arc, which is all I've written. I keep meaning to write more, but haven't yet gotten around to it.
« Last Edit: August 05, 2020, 02:38:58 PM by InverseMaster »

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Re: If Horses Were Wishes (supernatural, women-on-man)
« Reply #3 on: August 05, 2020, 05:03:43 PM »
Super creative rape story. Loved the full background story, the explanation of the finer details that's been screwed up over time. Merit ward from me!

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: If Horses Were Wishes (supernatural, women-on-man)
« Reply #4 on: August 06, 2020, 09:20:56 AM »
Wow, suddenly new talent starts showing up and raising the bar. This is terrific. Possibly the best F/m I've ever seen, at least in a long while.
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