The antique mirror was tall and imposing. Made from pure gold, the frame was sculpted into a cluster of geometric shapes appearing frozen in the midst of some chaotic movement. This piece must’ve taken months, if not years, to craft by hand. As far as Linda was concerned, it would’ve made more sense to attach it to an equally impressive painting, or maybe display it in one of the nicer museums she’d never managed to visit.
Linda didn’t like that she owned something so expensive.
Linda also didn’t like seeing her own reflection within it.
The stranger was stunning. But for better or worse, Linda was finally getting used to all the little ways this body was different to her old one. How it stood just a little too tall. How its muscles moved with an energy she hadn’t known in years. How it had the sort of sculpted curves and flat stomach celebrities paid millions to match artificially.
And currently… This stranger’s body was wrapped in a filmy little halfhearted excuse of a nightdress. It was the most modest thing Linda could find in her behemoth of a closet.
The stranger’s face, however, Linda wasn’t used to. She didn’t have a chance to truly see it until now. But it was similar enough to the one she knew—when you ignored the perfect jawline, regal cheekbones, generously plush lips, immaculately arched eyebrows…
You get the idea.
The stranger was stunning. But it wasn’t Linda. None of this world was Linda’s, and it terrified her how quickly and drastically everything had changed.
“This is all your goddamn fault,” she said to the wishing stone, held tight in her left hand. Frustratingly, she hadn’t been able to step more than a few feet away from it. The stupid voice in her head made sure of that.
The stone responded with cold silence. The voice responded with wish ideas to improve her kingdom. She ignored both and stepped away from the mirror, looking over her private quarters.
It was similar to a luxury apartment. Not just the single, well-furnished bedroom she was currently settled in; the chamber connected to a private living room with impressive furniture and grand windows displaying the kingdom below. And beyond that, a personal bathhouse fitted with more soaps and perfumes than she knew what to do with.
Linda didn’t dare admit how nice the bath had been. Even if part of her argued she deserved it, after this disaster of a day.
Even if the warm water felt delicious against her supple new skin.
Her queenly body was built to enjoy luxury. This terrified Linda. Partly because it drove home how little control she had over herself, partly because she didn’t deserve luxury. Not after making things worse with her earlier wishes.
Nonsense, said the voice. We are Queen. Living in opulence is our birthright.
“I’m not dealing with you,” Linda said.
Shaping the lives of others is also our birthright, it said. What use is there in denying this?
“Filing taxes is a birthright, you know. Throwing the word around doesn’t make it…” Linda paused. The voice was louder than before. “No, I’m not dealing with you.”
Truly, what could we possibly be missing to be this unsatisfied?
Linda didn’t answer, but her eyes went wide as something… Extremely uncomfortable occurred. Every little fear and frustration she’d known over the past decade flew to the forefront of her mind.
Dept. Job security. Raising two kids.
“What are you… Are you reading my memories!?”
Paying the mortgage. Putting Jon through college. Losing her dad.
These are my memories as well, I’ll have you know.
Zoe rebelling. Digging into her emergency savings.
“The hell they are! You didn’t exist before today!”
Her divorce.
Aha.
Linda turned white. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
You’re unfocused, said the voice. Too many responsibilities and no one to hold you accountable.
“I’m ‘unfocused’ because I don’t want to be a queen! You’re just an impulse! A mistake I can fix!” Linda said. “And I certainly don’t need another relationship. I wish—”
Immediate, stone cold realization. The voice never controlled Linda—it only shaped her movements, redirected her actions. It couldn’t force her into anything she hadn’t started already.
So if it wanted to make a wish, it needed her to say those first two words.
Linda rushed a hand to her mouth, but the voice transformed the movement into a gentle flick of her hair, just as it wrestled control of her mouth. “—For a king consort. Tailored to mine and my kingdom’s needs, specifically crafted to—”
No, no, no. She wrestled back control. “Fuck you!”
The stone shined and dropped to the floor. Before Linda, a silhouette slowly materialized, vague and indeterminate. It rapidly shuttered between shales, as if the wish was deciding between hundreds of possible options.
The silhouette snapped in place. A man around Linda’s age.
“My queen,” he smiled warmly.
Linda shivered.
To her credit, she managed not to fall to her knees right then and there. But something about the stranger’s deep, resounding voice pulled, no, yanked at her. Unbidden, a slow warmth rose within, overwhelming, easing somewhere deep between her thighs.
What… What did you do? The voice demanded.
A shaky breath. An awkward step back. The stranger tilted his head. Linda gulped.
Well over six feet tall.
Defined muscles, visible even under his robes.
Red salt and pepper hair. A neatly trimmed beard.
Egregiously handsome, and exactly her type.
Chillingly, he stared straight at Linda as if he knew her. As if he’d existed beyond several moments ago. “What distracts you, my queen?”
“Nothing!” She realized her hands were undoing her nightdress and jerked them to her sides. “You—you’re part of my wish. You’re not real.”
The stranger frowned. God, what a frown.
Linda gasped. She didn’t want to deal with this bullshit—but the queen’s body, hot and wet and slipping more and more from her control, was politely asking why the hell was she still clothed and not riding this man like a goddamn rodeo cowboy.
“I assure you, I’m quite real.” The stranger moved closer. “Are you angry with me, love?”
Your interruption caused this! Said the voice. We needed another ruler. Not…
…Someone to literally fuck her.
Ah. Great.
“I’m… Uh… No?” Linda said, intelligently and with everything super under control. Yeah, sure, she had her showstopper hips cocked to the side, her body leaned forward just enough to give a perfect view of her giga-cleavage, and a manicured hand playing coyly with her hair, but she could still fix this. Probably.
The stranger nodded. “My diplomatic trip ran long and I neglected to send letters. You’re disappointed. I understand.”
“Uh-huh. Yup.” The stone. Linda could wish her way out of this. Separately, how many years has it been since she had sex? Three? Five?
“Allow me to offer my sincerest apologies.” Another step closer.
Linda also took a step closer. Totally by accident. She still had her hand on stone, thankfully, and—ah, whoops, her other hand was on the stranger’s bare chest. Wait, no, focus. What was she doing again? Right, wishes. She needed to…
"Mpmphmm..."
Linda didn’t quite realize the sound came from her own lips. The stranger had his giant arms around her waist, his beard brushing softly against her neck and sending shivers down her spine. He began a series of gentle kisses, each one lingering just a little longer than the last. In tandem, his hand slid down, nails tracing patterns along Linda’s pillowy thighs, movements firm and gentle.
She just about lost herself right there.
