Your wish has been granted. You have been given a Rolls Royce. However the wheels seem to be missing, as well as the stereo and all of the doors. There is also a small family of migrant Mexican workers cooking meth butt ass naked. The trunk looks like someone bashed it in with a bat and the license plate has mysteriously vanished.
I wish I could do a bunch a coke, kidnap a hooker, put a cap in someone's ass and get away in a rusty beat up dodge neon.
A faint light is creeping up the horizon to the east. It will be morning soon. The dust that the beat up neon Dodge kicked up has finally settled. All is eerily still in the Mojave at this hour. A chill runs up your spine as you pull your jacket closer. Well... Not really
your jacket. Like the vehicle, the jacket once belonged to the hooker that's currently tied up in the back of the truck.
A smile creeps over your face as you recall the night's events. You've never done
that much cocaine for
that long. So far, this wish has turned out great. You don't really get why the old gypsy woman warned you about the genie. So far, it hasn't done anything other than what you asked. The raggedy old bitch was probably just jealous that her wish was spent.
Speaking of wish, you realize you've not performed the last part of your wish. Poppin' a cap in some fool's ass is going to be the icing on the cake. You turn back to the trick to get the pistol from the front seat, only to almost run straight into the genie. He always just appears like that. His appearance is nondescript and average. In fact, every time you try to recall his features, you can't quite seem to remember specifics. You're pretty sure he's white, but maybe with an olive complexion. Hair color is blonde, or brown. Or maybe black? Whatever, it's not important. He can pay his gypsy mind games all he wants, as long as you get your wish fulfilled.
"So who's the lucky constant?" you ask as you side step the otherworldly being and retrieve your pistol. The genie darkly smiles. "Why you are, of course." Before you can process his response, the genie has covered the ground between you and firmly grasped your gun hand right around the loaded and cocked pistol. With unyielding strength, he twists your arm around, forcing you to double over into a curled up ball. He continues to drive your arm into an awkward reach-around position, gun barrel facing your anus.
Tears and swears flow from your lips as you vainly struggle against the inevitable. With a single motion with his free hand, the genie drops your pants off. Your quivering rectum is then kissed by the barrel of the gun. "Please no!" you beg, like the little bitch you are. The genie replies "Now now, you were warned to be careful what you wished for."
Before you can protest further about how this isn't even remotely like your wish, you notice what is written on the gun show. "Cock Assfucker Proxy". Horror washes over you as the trigger is pulled. But instead of a merciful bullet, a fully erect penis comes out of the barrel. It immediately begins to plumb the depths of your anus. The phallic meat tube fills every millimeter of your dookie dumper. It thrusts on and on and on. You don't know how much more you can bear, when finally, it stops without warning.
The magical cock retreats info the gun. The genie drops you and your prolapsing anus to the ground. Swamped with the feelings of revulsion and violation, you suddenly realize something. "Genie" you ask, "what about the popping part?" dreading the answer.
But before he can answer, you feel a warm liquid dropping out of your butthole. "N..no" you whimper. You've had a C.A.P. bust inside your ass. Before leaving, the genie turns and, while grinning, says, "See you in about 40 weeks." He vanishes.
You're left with two realizations. One, the genie semen in your butt is maple syrup (yeah you tasted it you sick fuck), and two, you were erect during the whole event, and by the unspoken macho man code, that means you're now gay and it wasn't rape because you liked it like the sissy you now are. How will you tell your parents?
The end
I wish for an unlimited bank account that never runs out, never gets closed, never gets questioned or noticed, exists in such a way as if it didn't effect the value of currency (which unlimited cash would do if it existed), that had already bought me immortality through clones so I can die when I choose to, and any negative monkey's claw style wish tomfoolery will not effect me, but rather effect whomever decides to reply to me and make a corrupted wish for me.
. The neighbors start to bitch about the smell and the constant noises. But who cares yall got mother fucking Slipknot in your house. As the structure around you starts to fall apart due to negligence the band starts to notice these things and plan to leave. But you refuse to let them. One day upon waking up they find themselves naked in a hole with a bucket holding a bottle of lotion. And thus shall be where they remain.
