The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You Wish”

[This is an erotic fantasy story intended for adults only. Thanks to Jack Cade for the editorial assistance on this.]

Ima came into the possession of her last Master ten thousand years ago. He was a kind man, the first and only Master to ever try to befriend her. When she appeared to him and informed him of the rules—that she, as a djinn, could not kill, could not return someone from death, and could not control the emotions of others, and that she served him alone until his three wishes were granted—the first question he asked surprised her. Rather than ask about methods of getting around those rules as her previous Masters had, he asked how she filled her time while trapped in the bottle. When she replied that she slept through most of it, or amused herself by playing solitary games, an expression of pity crossed his face. He took Ima by the hand and took her on a guided tour of the city, from his own point of view. He carved beautiful, intricate figures in soft woods traded from afar, which he sold to travelers and locals alike. His home was a simple dwelling above his shop, but it was for the most part free of parasites. His compassion for one who considered herself unworthy touched her deeply. She became so wrapped up in him and what he showed her she hardly even noticed she had gone nearly a month without using her powers except to return to her bottle and sleep.

By the fifth week she began to notice feelings she had never felt before. It began with an elusive sense of loss when he was not around, such as when he was tending to customers downstairs, leaving her upstairs either in or near her bottle, for she could not leave its presence. Then came a warm sense of elation when he walked into the room. By the sixth week, she began to catch herself watching him...the way he moved, the way he smiled when their eyes met, the subtle variations of expression that communicated his mood more eloquently than any words. Her heart leaped when their hands brushed, and sank when he went downstairs to sell his carvings. To fill her time, she began to prepare meals for him. Her servile nature made her endeavors to please him all the easier. The realization of what was happening dawned on her as she watched him head for the stairs. She rushed forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. She wanted so badly to tell him how she felt, to beg him not to leave her, but words failed her.

“Your eyes tell the story.” he said, wiping away her tears with his always-gentle hands. She melted against him as their lips touched, her perpetually-young body responding readily to the emotions she had only recently discovered. He broke the kiss only long enough to tie her bottle onto his belt and conceal it, and then he returned to her. “Would you like to come down with me?”

“Yes.” she replied happily. “Very, very much.” She dressed herself in a simple outfit which covered her harem costume, including a cloth to cover her hair as she had seen on other women. From then on, she minded the store at her Master’s side. Occasionally, during her free moments, she caught herself daydreaming...wondering what it would be like to bear a human’s child.

One evening, as they lay on the roof after closing the shop, watching the stars drift across the sky, he said something that served both to melt her heart and remind her to savor the time they had.

“My fondest wish,” he said, “is to marry you in the grandest temple in the land.” In a puff of smoke, they were in the temple of Heliopolis, where the Phoenix was said to bring its egg, made from the ashes of its previous life. All the guests rubbed the sleep from their eyes and gazed wonderingly at the finery they were wearing. An angry-looking Elf in royal-looking attire stood at the altar as Ima and her Master approached. Ima’s golden bangles, the symbol of a djinn’s servitude, flashed, and the Elf performed the ceremony, stutteringly at first, and then more naturally as Ima’s bangles glowed brighter and brighter.

For sixteen years, Ima and her Master lived happily as a married couple. She bore him three children in a house conjured by her husband and Master’s second wish, made just as she realized she was pregnant with the first. Magic flowed strongly in the children’s veins. Ima smiled when she thought of it, often stating that these children would begin a line of wizards to guide the world into a golden age. Unfortunately, the ambitions of dark men often intrude upon the happiness of the virtuous. A young blacksmith’s apprentice, given to the smith as repayment of a debt, heard that Ima was a djinn and sought to control her power, completely ignorant of the fact that she could serve only one Master until his three wishes were granted. He sent a thief to obtain the bottle. The thief moved swiftly and silently, and only the sudden draining feeling as the distance between Ima and her bottle rapidly increased alerted her to the theft. The apprentice was smelting slag when the thief arrived and presented him with the bottle. Ima knew precisely where her bottle was the instant the apprentice began to rub, but hadn’t the energy to follow. She was just too far away. She could barely move as she lay on the floor, cradling her infant daughter, Oasis, in her arms. Her Master charged off toward the smith at Ima’s direction, leaving their teenage son, Sammel, in charge. Seven year old Selah cried at her mother’s side, begging her to get up.

When Ima’s Master burst into the smithy, the apprentice was already becoming impatient. He gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, squeezing it as if to throttle it into submission.

“That bottle belongs to my wife, and no one can command her but me.” her Master said. He snatched away the bottle, but the apprentice grabbed a piece of rod stock and knocked it from his hand. The bottle flew into the liquid metal and began to melt. Ima cried out in agony, her children in terror. Desperately unwilling to leave her family alone, her spirit clung to the Earth Plane even as her body dissipated back into the mists of which it had been made. At the smithy, Ima’s Master took the rod stock from the smith’s apprentice and ran him through with it, livid at what he knew had happened. He grabbed the smith’s hammer from the worktable and hurled it as hard as he could at the thief, catching him in the back of the head and making a red and grey mess over the wall. He hurried home and found his daughters crying, his son fighting tears, and his wife gone. The only thing left were her bangles, the very symbols of her servitude. He did his best to raise the children, but this loss had ripped a gaping hole in his heart and soul. He slowly wasted away, becoming a mere husk of his former self before his children’s eyes. Over and over again he carved his beloved wife, often with himself by her side, until he ran out of wood. The day the wood ran out was the day Sammel found his father’s body lying in bed, his face still wet with tears.

Ima wallowed in her own misery, astrally tied to the bangles like a dog on a leash by her own desperation. Despite her best efforts, her Master had died of a broken heart and her children went away, leaving behind all the family possessions. After ten thousand years of solitude, so powerful it touched any who so much as came near the bangles afterwards, Ima suddenly felt a surge of hope. Her mind quested until it found the reason. Her beloved Master had been reborn! She needed only plant an idea into the mind of the collector who possessed her bangles, and so she did, urging him to travel to America. With hope in her soul, she could await the day Master would be ready.

* * *

Nicholas Gerber (no relation to the baby-food giants), called Nick by his friends, bade his date du jour, Daisy, a fond farewell as he left the gargantuan stuffed panda, which he had won for her, on the floor at the stairs’ landing, because he knew her father wouldn’t trust him upstairs with his daughter. When Nick got back to the car, he pulled out a day planner from the glove box and wrote down the girl’s name, her number and put a star by her name, with the notation “BJ” beside it. She was naturally attractive, and felt she had a moral obligation to ease the tension she caused in the men she dated—by getting them off. She blushingly maintained her hymen, waiting for “The One” like so many others, but gave the best head Nick had ever gotten. He snapped the planner shut and put it back in the glove box. As he drove away, he passed the old Al-Jabah place, where some kooky old Arab had moved after coming to America, then driven himself crazy trying to figure out why he had come. Nick repressed a shudder as he drove by the place. Something in that house seemed to be calling to him. With an old place like that, with such a history, he could only imagine the horrors that lived there.

Nick smiled as he pulled into his driveway. He was reasonably attractive, according to the Homecoming votes, and a nice guy to boot. Disdaining football and other “grunt” sports, Nick had pushed the school to adopt martial arts as a P.E. class and soon they were getting offers from high-profile schools to compete. Though not as physically strong as his football-captain counterpart Vic Summers, he was nonetheless able to defend himself admirably against same. It was often said that he could fight off the whole football team if he weren’t such a nice guy. Nick had naturally set himself up as sort of a “women’s guardian,” letting the girls know they were quite safe in his presence, even from larger, dumber individuals who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. This upped his popularity considerably, resulting in an absence of unwelcome solitude, but he couldn’t help feeling that there was something missing.

* * *

Brittania Aguacasa sighed, leaning against the door of the motel room. The Latina superstar had been having a rough week, and it was only going to get worse. She needed a break. As her manager knocked incessantly on the door, she knew she wasn’t going to get one.

“Brittania, open up! We need to talk!” he said through the door.

“Leave me alone.” she whined.

“I really wish you wouldn’t let the stress get to you like this, Brittania.”

“I’m not a genie.” Brittania remarked. “And if I was, you would have wasted all three wishes on sex anyway, you old perv.” She left through the other door, ignoring the gawking stares of the people at the pool and the muted whispers of “It’s Brittania Aguacasa!", or just “It’s her!” She escaped through a back exit, taking off on foot down the semi-lit sidewalk. Eight months of Aikido and Tae Bo had taught her to defend herself, so she needed only the can of mace which dangled on her wrist whenever she was offstage to supplement her defense abilities. Drawn by something she didn’t understand, she squeezed through the bars of a rusty old gate, heedless of the red stains on her blue sweater, and headed up the cast concrete steps to a venerable old house. Inside was a vast collection of Arabian antiques worth a fortune. She found herself drawn to pair of golden bangles sitting on a velvet pillow. She gently dusted them off with a Kleenex from her pocket, reverently running gentle fingers over the intricate designs. Without really knowing why, she slipped one of the bangles on her wrist, and felt a powerful elation wash over her. She felt as if she were on the verge of an orgasm more powerful than any she had managed to bring herself with her meager little fingers. Moaning with desire, she put on the other one and came powerfully. She took several minutes to recover, but finally regained her feet. She glanced around, the feeling of urgency gone and replaced by a humming sense of anticipation. No longer truly sure why she had come to this place, she left without giving the old house a second glance. She was NOT looking forward to squeezing through that gate again. But she figured her sweater couldn’t be any more ruined. Suddenly the gate swung open. Brittania smiled and walked through.

Must’ve loosened it when I squeaked through the first time. she thought, continuing her wandering exploration of the quiet little town in whose high school auditorium she would find herself soon enough, doing yet another concert. People envied her for her traveling, but what they failed to understand was she played most places sight-unseen, getting off the bus and right into the hotel, and from there to the place she was to perform, then back to the hotel again to pack before going to the next place. Her “tours” were more like “rides.” Underground rides. The kind that didn’t have any lights, and instead of being fun, it was more of a jerk-you-around-and-break-your-neck kind of ride. She wished she had time for a romance.

Well, now she had the chance to look around.

* * *

Nick wouldn’t miss the Brittania Aguacasa concert for anything. Even if he hadn’t worked overtime for two months to save up for the tickets and backstage passes, he had all of her albums and a hard drive full of downloaded images of her—every one he could find. He knew for a fact he had raised her three ranks in the “Most Downloaded Women” list. He folded his knife and set his carving on the nightstand. He had seen a dozen psychiatrists about his compulsion. He’d never taken a lesson in his life, but the instant he had a knife in one hand and a piece of wood in another, he just had to carve it. Most often, it was a genie, recognizable by the harem costume, waterfall ponytail and bangles. Sometimes he would do other women in harem suits, but only the genie wore bangles. None of the shrinks he’d seen had been able to come up with a satisfactory explanation. The phone rang, startling him.

“Nick?” a female voice asked. “It’s Daisy.”

“You don’t sound too good.” Nick remarked. “Are you okay?”

“Remember that coconut cream pie we had at the carnival last night?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Nick replied, already working out what she was going to say next.

“I just found out I’m allergic.” she said, confirming his suspicions. “It’s nothing too serious, but I’m swollen like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man absorbing hot cocoa. My eyes are swollen shut and my fingers are as fat as sausages. I managed to pry one eye open this morning and get a look in the mirror, and I wish I hadn’t. I look like an overstuffed Puffalump.”

“I’m sorry.” Nick said. “I truly am.”

“It’s not your fault. I asked for it.” Daisy replied. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, the strain of keeping this puffed-up arm bent is making me dizzy. Bye.” Click.

“What a way to find out.” he muttered, hanging up his phone and moving to his window to stare out at what could be seen of the stars, as he so often did when he wasn’t carving. Sometimes someone would have a party that would kick every breaker in town. Then you could see the stars plainly, without the interference of all the suburban lights. On those nights, Nick would close his eyes, and a scene would unfold before him. As blue smoke wafts over a grand temple, sleepy-looking guests rub their eyes and marvel at their own finery as he and the genie from his carvings walk down the aisle to the altar, where a being who looked like Nick imagined Oberon would look glared down at them, even as he performed some kind of marriage ceremony, seemingly compelled by the genie’s glowing bangles. Tonight, however, Nick’s mind was elsewhere entirely. He turned his gaze down toward the street, where a beautiful blonde walked, seemingly in a semi-daze. He felt a connection to her somehow. She stopped, turned and looked at him. Brittania Aguacasa! Why was she wandering around town when she had a concert in sixteen hours? Suddenly, Nick saw something even more worrisome...a semi with a full load of cars, barreling towards her. “Get out of there!” he croaked, terrified. The semi didn’t stop, but there was no evidence the Latina had been in the truck’s path. When next he looked, Brittania was standing by a street lamp, well out of harm’s way. She was beaming at him with an odd intensity.

It seemed to Nick as if he were looking at her through very powerful binoculars. He could practically count the forks in her retinas.

Can you read my mind? he wondered. There’s no way you saw that truck coming in time to dodge it.

No, but you did. Brittania’s voice echoed in his mind, as if she were speaking in an empty cave. I’m not sure how I ended up by the lamp, though.

How is this possible? Nick asked. We’re talking, and neither one of us is moving our lips.

Don’t worry, Master. another voice said. When I am strong enough, all will be revealed. I’m sorry I can’t give you more, but Brittania has to rest for tomorrow. Surprised herself, Brittania glanced at her watch. Then she continued on her way, smiling once more for him as she passed his house. Nick turned a suspicious glance toward the old Al-Jabah place, closed his blinds and went to bed, wondering who he was going to take to the concert.

* * *

Brittania felt strange as she walked, slaloming slowly between the lines on the street. A kind of giddiness possessed her, and the bangles felt as if she were wearing pure power. She felt invincible. She felt...

She felt as if something inside her were reaching out for something. She turned and looked, seeing a young man standing at his bedroom window. The feeling intensified. There was a definite sense of belonging growing inside her. The young man said something, but she was too far away to read his lips. But her soul rang with the warning.

Get out of there! Self-preservation kicked in. One second she was in the middle of the road, the next, she was standing beside a streetlamp as the semi blew by. She beamed gratefully up at the young man who had warned her—somehow, as if they were connected at the soul. Despite the distance, she could make out every detail of his handsome young face. The chocolate eyes, reddish-brown hair that was probably in need of a trim, the five o’clock shadow on his chin, the hairs between his eyebrows, everything. Can you read my mind? his voice asked. There’s no way you saw that truck coming in time to dodge it.

No, but you did. she responded, filling her mind’s voice with all the gratitude that filled her heart at this moment. Then she admitted that she didn’t know how she ended up by the lamp. Something inside seemed to be trying to reassure her, that it was alright, that she didn’t have to know, at least not yet. Even as the young man’s voice continued to muse, the not-voice continued to reassure her. Her watch beeped. She needed to get back to the hotel. Brittania encountered a group of tough-looking teens on the way back.

“Hey, whaddaya know? If it ain’t li’l Miss Waterhouse!” one of them said, stepping behind her. They surrounded her. Brittania should have been worried, but she wasn’t. It was as if she knew they couldn’t hurt her. One of them grabbed her arm, yanking the mace from her wrist, rendering it unusable, but his fellows had other weapons and didn’t need hers.

“Dibs! I get her first!” he said gleefully. Brittania felt a flush of anger. How dare they talk about her like a piece of meat? There was only one man she belonged to, and he wasn’t in this group. The youth recoiled in pain as his hand transmogrified into a chicken foot. The bangles were glowing angrily. As the one who had held her staggered away, clutching the mutated appendage in disbelief, the others advanced on her.

“I don’t have time for this, you pigs!” she snarled, and with a gesture, the teenagers became staggering, snorting piglets. She continued angrily on her way, feeling rather drained. A thought emerged, telling her that her powers were not at full strength yet. “Where are these weird thoughts coming from?” she asked, clutching her head. She remembered one of her thoughts from the altercation before. There’s only one man I belong to? Where did that come from? Exhausted and exhilarated all at once, she made it the rest of the way back to the hotel room. Once there, she collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. Her dreams were powerfully erotic ones, mostly about submitting to and being dominated by the young man from the window. At one point, as she basked in the afterglow of another orgasm, she heard a kind female voice whispering to her.

“Do you know why I chose you?” the voice asked. Brittania languidly turned her head from side to side. “Your loneliness touched me, in a way that no isolation but that which I myself have endured for the past ten millennia ever could. But I’m going to give you a choice. You can choose to stay as you are, Brittania Aguacasa, a national celebrity with a bright future ahead, and I will choose someone else. Or you can choose to share your body with me so that I may live again, and I will share with you my magic and my happiness as together we give ourselves to my reborn Master.” Brittania’s head was cradled in the lap of a beautiful woman, several years older than her, clad in a harem costume and bangles matching the ones Brittania had found in the old house. She had olive-colored skin and dark hair in a waterfall ponytail. Her eyes were the color of winter wheat, and her body, from her full, round chest to her slinky hips and silky legs, was perfect. Brittania would give anything to be her. She would gladly help this lovely woman live again. She closed her eyes and tried to get closer to the woman’s warmth.

* * *

Brittania awoke to the sound of pounding on her door. She glanced over at the clock and realized she was running late. She shucked free of her clothes, dashed into the shower for a quick one, dried off as best she could and dressed hurriedly. She gasped as she looked at herself in the mirror. Even though she stood in her hotel room, a teen superstar in one of her famous outfits, her reflection in the mirror was that of the woman from her dreams. The only thing they had in common was the bangles they both wore. Her manager banged on the door again and she threw it open, dashing down the hall. She was going to leave the rest of it to the makeup crew.

She had nearly forgotten the incident when the curtain went up. Her manager had given her a hard time over the bangles, but she hadn’t been able to get them off, and neither had makeup or wardrobe. Desperate, wardrobe had worked hard and finally come up with some modern semblance of a harem costume to go with the bangles. She caught sight of a young man in the front row and felt as if she knew him from somewhere. She soon realized that it was the youth from the window. A word popped into her head, a name associated with this man, one that surprised her with its clarity. Master. She felt the warmth begin to spread between her legs. Her body was on automatic. It seemed to know the dance steps better than she anyway. She was so horny it was hard to think. Master. Master. Master. Over and over again the word rang in her mind, driving her arousal level higher and higher. She was so wet she would have been willing to bet it was showing through her pants.

After the show, her manager was at her side, running the backstage sessions as always. She saw the young man again and found herself walking to him. A bright, welcoming smile formed on her face of its own volition. Her arms wrapped around this total stranger as if she had known him for years. Somehow she felt she had. Her arousal had grown too strong to control.

What’s going on? she wondered. She felt her manager’s hand on her shoulder.

“Brittania, we’ve still...” he began.

“Don’t touch me!” a voice which was not her own snarled, even though it was her mouth that formed the words. Her arm lashed out, backhanding her manager to the floor. “I’ll not lose him again!” She put her arm around the stranger and they left the auditorium together. The young man was as confused as she was. Security personnel swarmed around them, but the pair were gone in a puff of smoke.

Nick looked at Brittania with concern on his face. First she had walked by his house and dodged a truck with a skill Morpheus and Neo would have envied, then she had opened a kung-fu can of whupass on her manager, and now somehow they were in his room, Brittania on her knees before him like Daisy had been. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s the bangles.” Brittania said, looking up at him. “Somehow, it’s the bangles.”

“How do we get them off?” he asked.

“Please don’t reject me, Master.” said another voice through Brittania’s lips. She rose, a pleading look in her eyes. “I couldn’t bear it if you spurned me after all these centuries.” She was actually crying. Nick cradled her in his arms, comforting the confused songstress as best he could. He could smell the scent of her arousal.

“What’s with the ‘Master’ stuff, Brittania?” he asked.

“My name is Ima.” the foreign voice said. “And in our previous life together, I was a djinn.”

“Genies die?” Nick asked.

“We have our weaknesses.” Brittania/Ima said. “But please, Master, just let me spend this night with you. I’ve waited so long for you to be reborn.” Brittania’s hands reached up and began undoing the buttons on Nick’s shirt. Nick didn’t resist as the very-horny superstar removed his shirt and began to undo his pants. The two voices melded together as they sang one of Brittania’s songs.

“I will grant you any wish I can make your dreams come true Just please set me free, Master And I’ll be with you...”

Nick felt the bed beneath him as he was lain back and straddled. Brittania’s hands moved up and undid the snap-fasteners on her top. She kicked off her shoes. Sexily she pulled down her pants and panties at the same time, unleashing the heady scent of very-wet womanhood. She had to move from her straddling position to get the pants off, but she soon returned, her half-closed eyes burning with the kind of desire that could only be born from ten thousand years of solitude. She began to kiss him passionately as she reached back to fondle him.

“You’re bigger than I remember, Master.” Ima said, smiling with Brittania’s lips. “I think dear Brittania is going to enjoy this as much as I am.” She shifted herself, guiding his cock into her, shafting herself on him, instantly breaking the hymen. Tears leaked down Brittania’s cheeks as her vaginal muscles clenched on his member. He reached up to wipe them away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s so beautiful...” Brittania’s voice whimpered even as her body leaned forward to embrace him.

“I think what Brittania means is that after all the months spent with no time for a relationship, to experience this much joy and pain simultaneously is truly a beautiful experience.”

“Oh.” Nick replied as Brittania’s hips began to move. He put his hands on the songstress’s hips, guiding her up and down his pole. It was quite an experience to hear two voices moaning with pleasure simultaneously. The first of Brittania’s orgasms caused her to clench so tightly on him that he thought his balls were going to shoot out his mouth. The second drew tears of joy from her eyes. She passed out after the third one, as Nick filled her full of his scalding semen. He cradled her limp body in his arms as he slid the covers first out from under himself and then over the two of them. The former had been such a pain that he had considered getting up and disturbing Brittania to do it, but his patience was rewarded, and as he drew the covers over them, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and kissed her forehead.

* * *

Nick sat up, glancing in confusion around his room. A whole lifetime of memories had come to him in a flood of dreams. He smiled when he saw Brittania/Ima sitting on a stool, brushing her lovely hair before a vanity he hadn’t remembered owning. Had her hair always been that long?

“We, um, we had kids?” he stammered. Brittania’s legs moved sexily as she turned on the stool and walked toward him, still one hundred percent naked. She went down to her knees, stroking his hardening member gently with her soft fingers.

“Yes.” Ima’s voice replied. “Sammel, our son, Selah, our eldest daughter, and Oasis, our youngest. No, I don’t know what became of them after they left our house.” Her expression became sad, and then she began to cry. Nick fell to his own knees, embracing her as memories of the joy of motherhood coupled with the sorrow of not knowing what has become of one’s children. He comforted her as best he could until she asked him to make love to her again. He carried her to the bed and gently placed her on the mattress, kneading and suckling her breasts, gently caressing her labia, her clitoris, and places beyond. He fed her, he bathed her, he brought her so many orgasms she lost count of them, through it all remaining rock-hard, though his penis never once slid inside her. He lavished attention on her, worshipping her as if she were a goddess for nearly the whole day until finally she asked to have him inside her.

As Brittania finally drifted off to sleep after screaming his name again, his semen blasting inside her for the second time since she’d met him, she sighed. Never in her young life had she been treated as though her feelings, her pleasure, were all that mattered. And his orgasm had been all the more intense for his patience. Of that much, Brittania was certain.

“Go to sleep, Brittania.” Ima’s voice said in her mind. “We’ll both be needing it.”

* * *

There was no doubt about it now. Brittania’s body was changing. She was taller, her chest fuller, her hips slinkier, her legs and hair longer. She was brushing her hair out in front of the vanity again. She reached up and held it for a moment as a clasp appeared in her other hand. She bound it in the waterfall style and conjured a selection of outfits.

“You’re changing.” Nick said. “Why?”

“We’re merging.” Brittania/Ima said. “I didn’t know this would happen. I thought we’d share this body like roommates. But our souls are joining, becoming one.”

“You didn’t know?”

“There’s never been anything like what we are becoming.” they said. “By tomorrow night we will neither be Ima nor Brittania, and yet both Ima and Brittania.”

“Whatever your future holds, I hope it includes me.” Nick said. “I love you.”

“We love you too, Master.” Ima/Brittania replied. “Now we have to go break the bad news to Brittania’s manager. He’s going to be very angry.” Sirens wailed, getting closer. Police cars stopped in front of the house. “He must have called the police!” she gasped, conjuring some clothes for herself. “We have to get you out of here.” The pair were gone in a puff of smoke as police banged on the door.

* * *

“That was not appreciated.” a voice said. Walter whirled. Brittania? She looked different. “You called the cops to come after me?”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Walter demanded. “You can’t just go waltzing off with the first good-looking guy who catches your eye. We’ve already missed the Dallas concert. They had a full house down there when I called. What, do you think you’re the only one with problems? This is a BUSINESS, girl. Don’t you understand that?”

“I understand, alright.” Brittania said. “I’m just a meal-ticket for you. You’re in it for the money. Well far be it for me to disappoint you, Wally.” With a puff of smoke, a giant, wooden ship appeared in the air, falling and crashing to the ground as Walter dashed to avoid being crushed. Gold coins spilled out of the rotted hull in waves of flat, round metal.

“How...?”

“Something wonderful happened to me when I ran off that night, Wally.” she said. “I became the vessel for the spirit of a genie. Through me, she can be with her reborn Master. Through her, I have the power to do things I could never do as li’l old Brittania Aguacasa. You’re lucky I’m so deeply in love with Nick. If I were to use my new powers to kill you, we would have to spend the rest of our lives together on the run, never settling down, always looking over our shoulders. That’s no way to live. So I’m handing in my resignation, Wally. I’m tired of being your breadwinner. There’s enough in that ship to keep you in caviar for the rest of your life, even after taxes.”

“You can’t just...”

“I just did.” Brittania replied. “End of story. Bye-bye. Smell ya later.” She was gone in a puff of smoke, leaving Walter with his cold, hard cash.

* * *

Daisy panted heavily, leaning on a squad car. She was still far too swollen from the coconut to move comfortably, but comfort was far from her mind. She had heard the squad cars go by and had spent ten minutes struggling to get out of bed, downstairs, into her car, and to Nick’s house. Her fears had been confirmed when she saw them surrounding the place, trying to ram the door down. She waddled over to one of the officers who was standing by his squad car.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Brittania Aguacasa ran off with some guy during a backstage session and her manager wants her back.” the officer replied. “He matched the security camera footage to one of our file photos of Nicholas Gerber. What happened to you?”

“Coconut cream pie.” Daisy replied. “Have we met?”

“I don’t think so, it’s just that your skin looks strained, like it’s not used to being so stretched.”

“Oh.” Daisy sighed. “Yeah, I’m all puffed up with allergies.” Daisy walked off, wondering where Nick could have gotten to. As she walked, she passed the old Al-Jabah place, and noticed a light on upstairs. That place had always freaked him out. It was the last place anyone would look for him. She walked through the open gate and headed for the door.

* * *

“It really doesn’t look like they’re going to leave any time soon, does it?” Nick asked.

“No.” Ima/Brittania replied sadly, her voice still possessing the odd duality. Nick looked into her eyes, seeing the hurt there. He kissed her, moving his left hand to the small of her back, to the place where, millennia ago, Ima had loved to be touched. He received soft moans in response, and his tongue was admitted into his magical servant’s hungry mouth.

Yes, the combined voice said into his mind, just like that! She put her arms around him, pressing her body against him.

“Brilliant idea coming here, it’s the last place anyone would look for me.” he said when the kiss had ended and he had refilled his lungs with air. He shivered. “Still gives me the willies, even with the lights on.”

“After he died, Mohammed Al-Jabah was free to return to his homeland.” she replied. “There are no restless spirits here—at least, none I can sense.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “But there’s one thing I do sense.” She made a gesture, and the interior of the house began to change, transforming from a dismal old wreck of a house into a palatial residence fit for an Arabian prince. It looked better, but Nick still had a feeling of...something prickled the back of his neck. He whirled, seeing a ghastly apparition of an angry-looking woman in the mirror, standing in a reflection of what the old room had looked like.

“Shit!” he exclaimed.

“I sense it too!”

“Change it back and let’s get out of here!” Nick said. Ima’s magic returned the house to the way it was and teleported the two of them out onto the lawn. The woman’s image appeared in the window, glaring down at them. She also glared at the overweight-looking teenager who had frozen on the sidewalk when the woman appeared. No, not overweight, Nick realized, but puffed up with allergies. Frightened, Daisy dashed into Nick’s arms as the ghostly woman seemed to get even angrier. “I don’t think we’re far enough away for that woman’s liking.” Nick remarked. Ima teleported the three of them to a nice, clean, recently-built hotel. Nick shivered from head to toe. “That was fucking spooky!” he said. Daisy still quivered against him. Ima/Brittania touched the girl’s shoulder and her swelling went away. She was her beautiful self again. Nick paid for a room with cash, and the trio went in, then shivered once more.

“Who was that anyway?” Daisy asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Nick said with another shudder. He went to the mirror and checked for grey hairs. Finding none, he sat down in one of the chairs, which was instantly transformed by djinn-magic into a plush recliner. He swore, hitting his forehead at his own stupidity. “The office had a camera.” he said. “The police can use that to prove I was here.”

“I thought of that.” Ima/Brittania said, her voices sounding a little more merged than they had when she had spoken in the house. “I used an illusion to hide your real face from the camera. What name did you register under?”

“Mortimer Toynbee.” Nick replied sheepishly. “It was all I could think of.”

“Well, he’s not really a popular Marvel character, so maybe we can slide on this one.” Daisy said. She turned to the beautiful woman before her. “Thanks for getting rid of the swelling.”

“It was my pleasure.” Ima/Brittania replied.

“I need to clear my head.” Nick said. “See if you can find a comedy or something.” With a gesture, his magical servant caused Shrek to begin playing on the TV, completely ignoring the masking tape on the side which read “Out of Order—Broken Tube.”

* * *

Walter angrily paced the stage. How could things have gone so monstrously wrong? Years ago he had undergone hypnotherapy and past-life regression to try to gain some insight into the weird dreams he’d been having. At first he was disappointed, finding out he had been a mere blacksmith’s apprentice, but when he discovered the circumstances of his death, he seemed to understand. It had been easy to find the bangles which were all that was left of the djinn after her death in the smelter—an accident he still regretted even in this new life. When he became Brittania Aguacasa’s manager, it seemed he had found the perfect person to act as the djinn’s avatar once he had the bangles. He had had a fright of sorts when old-man Al-Jabah had moved to this rinky-dink little town, but when Brittania had decided to do a tour, Walter had made sure to include it on the itinerary. He had hoped to get into her pants when he saw her with the bangles the night of the concert, but she had already bonded with someone else. This Nicholas Gerber...something about him was familiar somehow. The look in his eyes reminded him of someone...ah! Ima’s master! The fool who had come barging in the smithy trying to get the bottle back. No wonder Brittania had bonded with him! He stormed back to the bus and drove it to the hotel room. He was still too angry. Ima’s master being reborn complicated things, but it could still be salvaged. He flipped through the channels on the television, trying to calm himself.

“...baste the turkey just so...” Click.

“...still no leads on the multiple...” Click.

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Click.

“...this footage of an angry woman pacing in the window of the old Al-Jabah place...” Click.

“...still no leads as to the whereabouts of Brittania Aguacasa, though some eyewitnesses say they have seen a light on at the old Al-Jabah place, the only sign of activity there is a ghostly image of an angry-looking woman pacing about and occasionally glaring out the window.”

Walter shuddered at the image, changing the channel hurriedly. Obviously they had been there and disturbed some spirit. But where would they go after the ghost had run them off?

Where?

* * *

Pounding on the door woke Nick from his fitful sleep. He had Ima/Brittania cast an illusion over the three of them so they wouldn’t be recognized, and answered the door. There was a cop on the other side.

“Have you seen this man?” the officer asked.

“You wake me up in the middle of the fucking night to show me a picture of some punk kid?” Nick asked, playing on the illusion of a middle-aged man that had been cast upon him. The cop looked past him to what appeared to be his middle-aged wife and teenage daughter.

“Mind if we ask you some questions?” the officer asked. “We checked the handwriting in the register, and recognized his writing when he wrote ‘Mortimer Toynbee’ in the register. He’s listed as being in this room.”

“There’s a security camera in the office.” Nick offered.

“We’re operating under the assumption that he can disguise himself.”

“And I’m operating under the assumption that you’re full of shit.” Nick replied. “Master of disguise my ass. Kids today think putting pantyhose on their faces makes them fucking invisible.”

“You’ll have to forgive my husband.” Ima/Brittania said, placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder and smiling for the officer. “He’s always grumpy when he doesn’t get his eight hours consecutively.”

“If you think of anything, ma’am, anything at all, let us know. Just call or come see us at any motel entrance.” He handed Ima the picture and bade them good night.

“You really played that to the hilt, Master.” Ima/Brittania said when she was sure the officers were gone.

“I played the part you gave me.” Nick replied. “You even changed the voices.”

“How do we get out of here?” Daisy asked. “They’re covering all the...d’oh! Never mind, I remember.”

“Feeling a little forgetful, Daisy?” Nick asked.

“I’m still sleepy.” Daisy replied. “And I’m scared that this is going to end badly for all of us.” Nick hugged her to him, trying to comfort her. “Can we change back now? This is really creepy.” The disguises dissipated, and Daisy sighed in relief. “And what do I call you anyway?” she asked the transforming pop-star.

“I suppose Ima B. is as good as anything else.” she replied. Daisy still seemed sad. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“I’m just not sure where I fit into all this.” she sighed.

“We’re glad to have you aboard, honey.” Ima said.

* * *

Nick lay on his back in yet another hotel room, thinking. At the current rate, Ima and Brittania would be completely fused by dawn. Even now it was difficult to tell where Ima left off and Brittania began. For some reason Daisy didn’t seem to mind the odd nature of their relationship. And “Ima B” as she was currently calling herself, didn’t seem to mind Daisy giving him head, either. Oddly enough, Daisy seemed to take comfort in bobbing on his jock, like a baby at her mother’s nipple. He finally decided to ask Ima about it while Daisy was asleep.

“She views herself as an object, valuable only in how she can bring pleasure to others.” Ima’s and Brittania’s nearly-fused voices replied. “She figures being a cock-sucking slut is the only thing she can do right. She doesn’t have much self-esteem, Master. I’m seeing some nasty memories in that pretty little head of hers. I think she was abused when she was young.”

“What can we do to help her?” Nick asked.

“Try doing something with her other than feeding her your dick.” Ima suggested, though her tone betrayed no hint of anger or jealousy. “I can give her a wish if you think it would help.”

“It might.” Nick replied, kissing Ima passionately. She pushed him into the chair, smiling.

“Let’s see if I can’t give dear Daisy some competition.” she said, going to her knees and unsnapping his jeans. She made him hard like an expert, keeping him quiet with a bit of magic so they wouldn’t awaken Daisy.

* * *

“Really?” Daisy asked. “You’d give ME a wish? I...I don’t deserve that!”

“You deserve far more than you’ve allowed yourself, Daisy.” Nick said.

“We know about what your parents used to do to you.” Ima said. “We want for you to be happy. Just close your eyes and make a wish.” Daisy closed her eyes, and Ima’s powers flared. Smoke swirled around Daisy, and when it finally cleared, she was wearing a harem costume and bangles just like Ima’s, and her hair was bound in the waterfall style. “I’m sorry, Master.” Ima said. “That’s what she wished for. To be what I was becoming. She’s a submissive; it’s part of the personality that was beaten into her from childhood.”

“How may I serve you, Master?” Daisy asked, her eyes sparkling with gratitude.

“Are you sure this will make you happy, Daisy?” Nick asked.

“Yes, Master.” Daisy said. “I’ve always dreamed of something like this.”

* * *

Walter shot upright in bed. Ever since his regression, the dreams had only gotten worse. His ultimate goal of ruling the world as its immortal sultan, the same goal he’d had for thousands of years, was at once so close and so far away. It was maddening. Restlessly he stalked over to the stack of ancient tomes on his desk. There had to be a way.

The little ball on his desk had detected the use of genie-magic about the time the apparition in the Al-Jabah house had begun to act up. Perhaps if he could get a sample of something Brittania had affected, he could trace her. It took little time for him to dress and load up what he would need. The apparition glared balefully down at the reporters beyond the fence like a cross between Montgomery Burns and Cruella de Vil. Swallowing his fear, he approached the house, trying to make it look as if he were some officially-sanctioned specialist trying to quell the wrath of the ghost. As he ascended the stairs, he wondered how he would know what to take. He didn’t have the chance to take anything, however. The ghost was on him as soon as the attic door opened. She battered at him with her fists, scratched at him with razor-sharp nails, and shrieked in rage like a woman violated. The attack was merciless. He barely managed to get out of the house with his life. Two demonologists—real ones—appeared with some kind of electromagnetic prods, keeping the apparition at bay while Walter scrambled away. Only when he was safely away did the apparition disappear, returning to her glowering-post at the window upstairs. Walter peeked around the pillar. The ghost saw him and flew from the window, keening with painful intensity like the banshee of legend. Walter scrambled once more as the apparition crossed the threshold of the gate and pursued him. Two others with prods stopped her, holding her at bay until he was out of sight.

“That was rather foolish if you ask me.” a fortyish woman with mixed complexion said. “Do you know what you just did? You gave her anger direction. You violated her sanctum, which makes the second time in as many days it’s been violated. Then, you had the audacity to let her see you again after she had been denied what she wanted most at that moment. If she ever sees you again, there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to save your sorry ass.”

“But I have to get in there.” Walter said. “There may be clues that will help me find Brittania.”

“You’re the one looking for that runaway pop-tart, aren’t you?”

“Brittania’s no tart.” Walter said. “She’s just not as conservative as older people like. In fact, it’s her in-betweenness that’s been so frustrating. She’s not the innocent girl next door, but she’s not the sexual wildchild everyone claims she is either. And she’s very important to me. Very important.”

“Apparently whoever she ran off with is more important to her than money or fame or whatever you think you had with her. And besides, any clues you find there would only lead you to that hotel the cops surrounded.”

“Actually, I was hoping to find something with her energy on it. Something I could use to locate her wherever she is now.”

Then it hit him. He was looking in the wrong place. She had conjured a whole treasure ship for him. He could use that! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Gleefully he returned to his car, doing his best to stay out of sight of the window as he drove away as fast as his vehicle would take him. Despite the hair standing up at the back of his neck, his repeated glances brought no sign of angry apparitions.

* * *

Southern California was a little hotter than Nick was used to, but it was tolerable as long as he stayed indoors and kept the air conditioner running. And this was only early spring. Who knows how hot it would get in summer? Well, he could ask a native if he thought he could do so without making a complete ass of himself.

Daisy dozed on the bed, looking perfectly innocent under the covers—an appearance that was heightened by the thumb in her mouth. He touched her shoulder gently so as not to wake her...and got flashes of her dreams. He shook his head as he backed away, swearing silently that if he ever got his hands on Daisy’s father, he’d wring the man’s neck. It wasn’t right to do that kind of thing with one’s own daughter!

You saw? Ima’s voice asked in his mind. He nodded. She would have turned out so differently if it hadn’t been for her father. That kind of thing...it’s a form of mind-control. The darkest, most insidious kind. And it’s effective, too. Nick returned to the bed and woke Daisy gently. His eyes communicated what he’d seen.

“No, don’t look at me like that, Daisy.” he said, hugging her close. “It’s alright. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

“You’re so kind, Master.” Daisy sighed into his shoulder. “I don’t deserve...”

“Yes, you do, Daisy.” Nick replied, cutting her off. He let his eyes show his earnestness.

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” Daisy said. “You make me feel so good.” Nick lifted her nude form from the bed, carrying her to a chair which instantly transformed into a cushioned fainting couch. He was going to change the sheets to remove the pinkish stains which had appeared when Daisy had surrendered herself...all of herself...to Nick the night before, but Ima simply made the stains disappear with her magic. Nick sighed and made the bed up. He was beginning to like having two magical servants. Ima (for that was what she had, in the end, decided to be called) was adjusting well to her new life. Nick was still working on getting Daisy to think of herself as a person instead of a fuckdoll.

Suddenly Ima began to disappear. Nick made a panicked dive to grab hold of her, but she dematerialized before he arrived.

“What happened?” Nick asked reflexively.

“Someone transported her.” Daisy replied, conjuring clothes for herself. “She’s back in our home town.”

“Any idea how they could just transport her?” Nick asked.

“You can ask them when we get there, Master.” Daisy replied. “Ima needs us.” Nick smiled as he took her hand. The tone of her voice was a step in the right direction. Smoke swirled around the pair, and suddenly they were in an auditorium. Ima stood in a pillar of light surrounded by some kind of golden rope or lariat or something which seemed to be made of light itself, dancing up the pillar in a spiral.

“Now, my dear it is time I bound you to me instead of that pitiful fool.” the man onstage said. The pillar imprisoning Ima was too narrow for her to move, and when she tried, the golden spiral zapped her.

“You leave her alone.” Nick snarled. Ima beamed at Nick with gratitude.

“How did you find me?!” the man demanded, backing away reflexively. Now that he could see the man’s face, he recognized him as Brittania’s manager.

“She made me what I am.” Daisy replied. “I can find her wherever she is.”

“The point is moot.” the man replied, starting a harsh, guttural chant. Suddenly Daisy was trapped in a pillar similar to the one which bound Ima. “It’s a shame that only works on those who wear djinn-bangles.” the man said. “Oh, well, I have something else for taking care of you, my old adversary.”

“You’re the apprentice.” Nick reasoned.

“Very perceptive. My name is Walter, by the way, at least in this life, not that you’ll live long enough for it to be important.” With that, he made a gesture, and a twenty-foot bipedal feline rose through the floor, translucent at first, then becoming opaque. Its claws were easily as long as Nick’s forearm, but were dwarfed by the fangs which filled the feline’s horror of a mouth. Its head was vaguely lynx-like, but with a bat-like nose and a stronger, more powerful jaw than a lynx had, to support the horrific teeth. Green drool dripped from the corners of its mouth, hissing when it hit the stage as it ate through it. When it opened its mouth to hiss, curls of flame licked up around its ears, though its fur remained unsinged. Muscles rippled and swelled, stretching the skin as the creature moved. Its eyes were like molten metal in zero gravity, glowing hideously as the surface rippled. If there was a color of evil, of hate, of hunger, or of lust, those eyes were that color. “It’s called a Therzathje.” Walter said. “It consumes not only the bodies of its victims, but also the souls. When it’s done with you I intend to feed the souls of your genie-bitches here to the Therzathje. Minds and souls aren’t important for slaves such as they will be. Only their bodies and their magic.”

“Now you’ve done it.” Nick snarled. “Now I’m mad!” The Therzathje roared, lashing out with one six-clawed hand. Nick dodged to the side as deep gashes appeared in the stage where he had stood.

“Die!” the Therzathje snarled in a voice like liquid evil. It lashed out with its tail, striking Nick in the left arm. The wound burned worse than the time he had been stung by a jellyfish during his family’s last vacation to Corpus Cristi. The creature roared again.

“How am I going to get past this?” he wondered. The Therzathje started making hacking sounds. Nick dove out of the way just in time to avoid being melted by a highly-acidic hairball. “Nasty!” he muttered.

* * *

Walter turned to his magical prisoners. He had no intention of waiting for the misguided hero to finish with the Therzathje. With so much at stake, he could not allow himself the luxury of watching a satisfying death scene. He had to make sure to obtain his goals. He smiled maliciously as Ima’s bangles flared again and again.

“Don’t strain yourself, my dear.” Walter said. “Your powers are well and truly blocked while you’re in there. It’s a pity I couldn’t get you to bond with me. But you’re both too rebellious, and I can’t ensure your absolute obedience until this is all done.” As he turned to the page in his spell book where his desired spell was, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned slowly until his eyes rested on one of the stage mirrors. He nearly wet himself. There in the mirror, standing in a reflection of the interior of her attic home, was the woman from the Al-Jabah place. Her face was warped and distorted in the ultimate hateful scowl, almost gargoyle-like in appearance. She screeched in rage and flew forth from the mirror. This time Walter did wet himself. He ran as fast as he could, but the ghost was faster. She battered ferociously at him, scratching and biting, reopening the original wounds and creating new ones. He didn’t have time to wonder how she had followed him, or whether she had been biding her time until she had the opportunity to strike. He felt her teeth in his neck and her hand in his chest. She cried out in triumph as she pulled her hand out, bringing his heart with it.

* * *

Daisy watched the scene unfold before her as the vengeful spirit took care of Walter. She watched as it tried to eat the heart in its hand, but being immaterial, the bite-size pieces merely passed through it. Now that the woman’s face was no longer distorted in rage, Daisy found that she looked sort of familiar.

“Maddie Cox?” she asked. The spirit looked at her. “Maddie Cox, is that you?” The spirit floated closer, its bloody hand dropping the half-eaten heart to the stage floor.

“You...know me.” Maddie said, her voice distant and tinny, as if she were speaking through a tin can telephone or a McDonald’s intercom.

“I did a report on you once.” Daisy said. “Your husband built the house. Then you went missing. They never found your body.”

“Floorboards.” Maddie intoned. “I’m under the floorboards.” She was starting to fade away.

“Can you help me get out of here?” Daisy asked. “Then I can help you. Give you a proper burial.” Maddie smiled, scratching through the barrier surrounding Daisy, then doing the same for Ima’s barrier.

“I’m under the floorboards.” Maddie repeated, fading away completely.

* * *

The Therzathje stood over Nick, opening its gaping mouth to eat him...body and soul. Nick shivered, wishing there was a way to get out of this corner. Chains appeared about the Therzathje’s mouth and arms. Another set appeared around its legs and tail. It started to topple backwards, unbalanced. A giant sword appeared above it, falling into a space between two rows of chains, neatly piercing the heart. The Therzathje emitted a closed-mouthed scream as it disappeared, banished to whatever Hell it had come from. Ima and Daisy appeared at his side embracing him, lavishing him with passionate kisses. Ima tended the wound in his arm with her magic.

“Let’s get out of here.” he said.

“There’s...there’s one more thing we have to do.” Daisy said. Nick looked over at the fallen body of Walter, but she shook her head. “Maddie Cox needs to be buried.”

“Who?” Nick asked.

“The woman from the old Al-Jabah place.” Daisy replied. “Her remains are under the floorboards in the attic. She needs to be buried so she can find rest.”

“Alright.” Nick said. “Better than having her chasing us.”

* * *

Maddie’s spirit was waiting when Nick arrived with the coroners and the priest. She showed them which boards to pull up, and followed them solemnly after they loaded the bones in a silk-lined coffin and began carrying it to the family plot at Coxville Cemetery. The coroners made sure all the bones were in their proper positions when the coffin went into the ground. Maddie smiled as her image floated down into the coffin, to rest at last after nearly fifty years. Nick helped cover the coffin, and set up the headstone. Daisy and Ima appeared after the priest and coroners left. They each deposited a rose on the fresh grave.

“Thank you, Maddie.” Daisy said. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.” Nick led the girls down the darkening path toward the cemetery entrance. They stayed close beside him as they climbed solemnly into his car.

“What do we do now, Master?” Ima asked as they drove down the lonely road.

“Well, first we go to the courthouse and get your name legally changed to match your new identity.” Nick said. “Then we hold a quickie press conference to get them to give you your privacy. Then we go home for a little bonding.” He smiled at that last part. Ima and Daisy smiled as well.

“I can’t wait!” Ima chimed.