The doorbell rang.
Walter lurched to his feet, knocking over his chair and dropping the computer mouse on the floor. His vision swam with colors as he staggered across the room, hoping his eyes would adjust to the dim room light before he crashed through the doorway. Despite this, he was glad to be away from the keyboard.
Why the hell do you put yourself through this?. Thoughts of the story he'd been working on before the bell rang crowded back into his mind as he made his way down the hall. You get great ideas, but then get stymied when you try to justify them scientifically. He should give up on science fiction and write the fantasy stories his agent kept pushing at him.
Sword-and-sorcery crap. No thanks.
Besides, anything about magic left him far too distracted to write.
And he needed to write. In the three weeks since Linda had left, he'd poured himself into his work as though there were some way to write himself out of the mess he'd gotten himself into.
He opened the door. What he saw or rather, didn't see brought him up short. Even though the bell had been ringing up to the moment the door swung open, there was no one there. He paused. He looked left. He looked right. He stared down the street. Nary a soul.
But there was something on the stoop.
At his feet was a small, gaily wrapped package with a card on it. Walter picked it up and peered at the card:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WALLY! HAVE FUN. GEOFFREY
Oh yeah. Birthday. Forgot about that.
And apparently everyone else had too. Except for Geoff. Walter smiled and carried the package back to his room.
Wonder what this could be? With Geoff, anything was possible, he supposed.
He and Geoff had been good friends back in school. After graduation, both had journeyed down unconventional career paths. Walter had taken to writing unfinished novels, while Geoff became a stage magician. He'd last been in town about a month back; Walter had gone to all of his shows. Like he always did. He'd spent his last day in town consoling Walter after Linda left. Geoff was a good friend.
And he used way too much tape when wrapping presents.
Walter struggled with what seemed to be miles of tape and least three different layers of wrapping paper, all different colors and patterns, and finally freed the box. Inside the box were an envelope and a small object wrapped in tissue paper. He opened the envelope and removed the photograph within. His eyes widened.
The photo was of a young woman against an emerald green background. She was very attractive and quite naked. She leaned against an object likely a chair, also emerald green. Despite her total lack of clothing, she somehow managed to seem demure. Her tanned skin was flawless and her lustrous brown hair, like a chestnut lion's lame, spilled over one of her shoulders. Her dark eyes stared right at him. He knew her.
Callie.
Callie was one of Geoff's dancers. Not one of the ones who assisted in his act, not one of the ones that Walter stared at, dumbstruck, as they appeared to be vanished, levitated, or subdivided. Not one of the women that Linda screamed she could never be and would never be as she stormed out of the house. She could never cope with his strange obsession. But Callie wasn't one of those women, either. She was just a dancer. Beautiful, for sure... but it just wasn't the same.
Walter gazed at the photo wistfully. Callie had actually liked him, even boldly propositioning him at the party celebrating Geoff's last show in town. She'd seemed very interested in him, saying that Geoff had told her that Walter was "imaginative" and that that was something she was looking for, but Walter had blown her off, telling her she was too drunk to think straight. He hadn't been interested at the time Linda had just left him. He was in no mood.
He fingered the photograph, admiring her curves, noting how her eyes seemed to sparkle. What was Geoff playing at? Taunting him? The photo certainly wasn't of much use to him the only pleasures he'd known recently came from stories of magical manipulations and memories of the assistants in Geoff's stage show. Sighing, he tossed the photo onto the bed.
The back of the photo was the same emerald green as the background on the front.
Walter stood and walked to the doorway, whereupon he remembered the tissue-wrapped object he still held in his left hand. Unwrapping it, he found a ring. The ring appeared to be of a translucent material with a vaguely metallic sheen. It was the same emerald green as the photograph and looked very much like one of the garish rings that Geoff had taken to wearing during his performances in recent years, the "Liberace years" as he had jokingly referred to them.
Walter slid the ring onto his finger, dislodging a small slip of paper that had been wedged into the band. He unrolled it and read:
THINK ABUT THE PHOTO
Ol' Geoffrey should learn to spell one of these days. What does he mean, I should think about the photo? I think the photo's not going to do me a whole hell of a lot of good. Maybe if I had the real Callie here I might reconsider all the crap I said...
"Well, it's about time."
Walter yelped in surprise and wheeled around, losing his balance and having to grip both sides of the doorframe to prevent himself from falling.
"I wondered how long it was going to take."
There, reclining on the bed, was a very real Callie. She wore a skintight suit of metallic emerald green that covered most of her lithe body but left little to the imagination. Her feet, arms, and shoulders (and very likely her back , also) were bare. Her eyes sparkled just as they had in the photo. She smiled.
"Happy Birthday, Walter."
She levered herself upright and stood. Her full breasts strained at the thin material of her outfit. He could see immediately that she was excited and aroused. Without shoes, she was shorter than he perhaps 5'3". She gazed up at him, an enigmatic smile on her face.
"Why are you here?" he asked, out of breath, heart hammering in his chest.
Her smile got bigger.
"I'm your birthday present."
"Now listen," he stammered, "not that I'm not flattered or anything. I mean I really am. And you're a lovely girl..."
"I'm twenty-two."
"Lovely young woman. But as I was saying before, I'm really not ready for anything like this. My life is too chaotic at the... "
He stopped.
Wait a second.
"How the hell did you manage to get in here?" he began. "Is Geoff around here somewhere? Did he ring the doorbell while you snuck in the back? And how the hell did either of you get here? Aren't you guys doing a show in Memphis or some other place that's, like, far way right now?"
"Geoff is. But he decided he could spare me for a while. I arrived by courier."
"Courier? But those are for..."
Now Walter was a smart guy, his skills with women and his choice of profession notwithstanding, and as he spoke, his eyes scanned the bed for the photograph he'd tossed there not thirty seconds before. Tossed, in fact, onto the very same spot where Callie had appeared not moments later. The photo wasn't there anymore. And there was certainly no place for her to conceal it within the costume that she wore. He began to feel an erection grow, reacting to the impossible possibility that now flitted through his mind.
"You don't mean..." He hadn't felt anything like this in ages.
"I mean," she said, slowly and carefully, as though addressing a slow child, "that Geoffrey and I knew that you were feeling down, so he packaged me up and sent me here to entertain you."
"Packaged?"
"Transformed me into a snapshot of myself and dropped me in the post."
He was very hard now. And she had noticed.
"My oh my," she said, grinning slyly. "Geoff wasn't kidding about your little kink, was he? Don't worry it's not quite as uncommon as you might think." She reached out to touch the bulge in his jeans, but he backed off.
"But how?" He thought that he should be incredulous about her story, but was far too intrigued to prevent her from continuing.
"The ring you're wearing is one half the dominant half of a pair of matched talismans. I'm wearing the other half," she said, running her hands down the sides of her body to indicate that the emerald green outfit she wore. "Our mutual friend Geoffrey has a talent for constructing magical little toys that truly are, well..."
He nearly choked. "Magical?"
"I'm not here just to have sex with you, Walter. I know more about you than that. I understand what turns you on. And while we wear these talismans, you can do anything to me that you want."
Wow.
"Anything?"
"With one exception. No mind control. Geoff promised that my mind would remain my own. I get the feeling it'll be a lot more fun for both of us that way anyhow. Aside from that, anything you imagine will be possible for you to do." She winked. "To me."
His heart was hammering again. At this point, he was more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Okay. How do I start?"
"Actually, I'm not really sure. This is the first time he's ever let me use one of these. Considering that you were able to transform me from paper to flesh with a mere thought, a thought is all that should really be required. You could start by manipulating my talisman itself. Nice as this is," she said, twirling about and admiring how she looked in the outfit, "there are other forms that may prove more convenient."
Hmmm, he thought, eyes flashing across the green metallic sheen that barely covering the curves of her breasts and the flatness of her stomach, let's try blue.
Nothing happened.
"Nothing happened. Tried to turn it blue and nothing happened." Very disappointing.
She frowned. "Last time you had your back turned. Maybe this will work better to start if you aren't trying to watch the magic happen. Turn away and try again."
He did, and when he turned back, her outfit was dark blue. And so, curiously enough, was the ring on his hand. Callie was grinning, her eyes wide.
Well I'll be damned. He hadn't truly believed her until this moment, but now he seized on the idea and ran with it.
"Okay," he said, pulling a blanket off the bed and wrapping it around her as his heart leapt into his throat. "Green again."
And when he unwrapped her, it was.
"How about something more comfortable, then?" he asked. She nodded vigorously has he quickly wrapped and unwrapped her, revealing her now in a g-string and bikini top, both the same emerald green as before.
"Interesting. Two pieces, but still one talisman. Okay, one more costume change for now." He turned around and she wore only an emerald stud in her navel. She was otherwise completely, achingly nude. Her dark tresses cascaded around her shoulders and she beamed. As far as he could tell, she was as excited as he was. He looked down.
"You're shaved."
"It certainly appears that I am now. Like I said: you're in complete control. Now enough with the little stuff. Impress me."
Okay little girl. Time for some fun.
"Freeze."
She stopped moving and became completely immobilized. He walked around her. Her eyes did not track his movement, but the sparkle was still there. She was conscious of everything that was happening. He ran his fingers lightly across the tops of her breasts and down the curve of her buttocks. She was ice cold. She really was frozen. The emerald talisman on his finger had interpreted his thoughts quite literally. Condensation was making her skin shine. He walked into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and returned.
"Unfreeze."
She shivered, partly from the cool moisture on her body, but mostly from her own excited reaction. Her eyes were wide. She spoke one word after he tossed her the towel:
"More."
She really is enjoying this.
And so am I. His erection was still going strong.
He motioned for her lie down on the bed. She reclined again, catlike. He laid the towel over her abdomen and then drew the blanket up over her legs and body. Her breasts winked at him from above the blanket's edge. He reached down to touch her crotch and as he pressed, the blanket gave way, collapsing to the surface of the bed. Callie gasped. He pulled the blanket away to reveal that her entire lower body had vanished. She stared in amazement at the empty space where, seconds before, part of her had been but was now no longer.
"How do you feel?" he asked
"Wonderful. And I still feel the rest of me. Sort of. There's just this feeling of, well, otherness. It's very difficult to describe."
Callie pushed the towel away. The surface of the cut appeared to be covered with smooth skin. Walter sighed a small breath of relief at that.
"Whoa. Where's the talisman?" The cut was above the navel, so there was no emerald green to be seen.
"I guess since it's still on part of me, it still works for all of me."
"That's reassuring. Now watch this."
He threw the blanket over her and again pressed down. As before, the blanket gave way. This time, however, there was still something there when he whipped it away. It was Callie's upper body, as flat as the blanket itself. He lifted her flattened upper body off of the bed.
Flat. But still gorgeous. He ran his fingers across her skin, feeling its silky and pliable smoothness.
He closed his eyes and shook her vigorously. When he opened his eyes again, he held a tan jacket with a chestnut brown hood. The Callie jacket had emerald green piping the talisman had reasserted its presence. He took off his sweater and tried her on. She was warm.
Nice fit. And very comfortable. I'll have to think of other ways to try her on sometime. He took her off and dropped her onto the bed.
Grabbing the blanket again, he held it like a curtain. When he pulled it away, there Callie's lower body stood on the floor, once again corporeal and trembling with obvious but silent excitement. The emerald shone in her navel. He ran his fingers across the smooth skin of the cut. She shuddered. He reached down and touched her labia. Her knees buckled and she or at least that part of her that was there collapsed to the floor.
Walter decided on another costume change. Reopening his eyes, he saw the emerald missing and Callie's trembling lower half clad in a pair of emerald green thong panties. He laid the jacket on her legs and covered both with the blanket.
When he removed the blanket, she was whole again, clad in the emerald panties and an emerald vest that fell open to reveal her breasts. She gasped loudly, completing an orgasm that she had not finished in her divided, half-vanished, and semi-transformed states.
"Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod," she repeated. She was flushed and perspiring.
He kneeled down to help her up. "I'm beginning to understand why you agreed to this."
"I didn't agree to do anything," she said, smiling. "It was my idea in the first place. You see, it's my birthday, too.
He began to laugh, perhaps for the first time in a month, certainly for the first time in what seemed to be years.
"So," she said, still panting. "You have any ideas of what you'd like to try now?"
He did, and leaned forward to whisper it in her ear, as though the idea were too outrageous to speak aloud. Her eyes widened and she stood on tiptoe to whisper her response to him. He looked into her dark, sparkling eyes and she nodded.
"Let's do it."
He grinned, blinked, and once again she was naked. The talisman was a small emerald stud in her ear. Her hair was in a ponytail. He motioned to her and she reached up and removed her hair as though it were a wig. He closed a hand and she began poking the hair into his fist as a stage magician might do with colored kerchiefs. When the hair was no longer visible, he opened his hand. Her magnificent coiffure had vanished.
"And to think that I just spent a hundred bucks at the hair stylist."
He guffawed, grabbed the sides of her now smooth head, closed his eyes, and pulled.
It separated from her body. She moaned.
"Here," he said, handing her her detached head. "Hold onto this." And he vanished out the door. Clanking could be heard as he rummaged through the kitchen.
When he returned with a large pot, he found her holding her own head low so that she could pleasure herself with her own tongue. She looked up at him and smiled sheepishly.
"A girl doesn't get this sort of opportunity very often."
He grunted and set the pot on the floor next to her. She stepped into it without pausing in her oral ministrations.
"Freeze," he said. And she did. Again. He pried her head from her stiff hands and set the cold object on the bed. Then he unfroze only it.
"Hey I was having some... yikes! That's cold!" she exclaimed.
"So you wanna watch all this?" he asked.
"You bet your life I do. Get moving. My nose is starting to itch."
He began to rub the towel over her body. Wherever the towel went, the tan of her skin was removed, revealing clear ice beneath. Soon her headless body was an ice statue, slowly melting in the warmth of the room.
"Waiting will take forever," she urged. "Melt me faster."
He concentrated and the statue began to melt at an accelerated rate, rapidly disappearing into the pot. Soon, all that remained of her body was a large volume of clear liquid. He leaned down and dipped his finger in.
"Feel that?" he asked.
Her head smiled: "oh yeah. And yes, her eyes said, I am very ready for this."
He picked up the pot, lifted it to his lips, and began to drink.
Callie moaned, and her moaning continued after he had finished drinking. Her entire body save her head was inside of him now. She could feel it. And so could he.
He took off his trousers. His erection was huge and seemed fit to tear a hole in his underpants. He took them down also and picked up her moaning head.
"You sure you want to do this?"
"Stop talking," she said. "Do it now."
With that he lifted her to his erect penis and she took him eagerly into her mouth. She was enthusiastic and it was all he could do to keep from coming right then. But there was one more thing to do.
He concentrated and she began to exhale steadily through her nose. And as she did, her head began to deflate. Her muffled moaning continued. But her head seemed to be shrinking, and though his entire erection was still fully within her mouth, his hands, grasping her head, felt less and less substance and her moaning became quieter and quieter until she could no longer be heard.
Soon it seemed as though all he was grasping was his own penis. His erect member, however, felt as though it were still inside her, massaged by her mouth and tongue. He looked down.
What had had been her head was now nothing but a thin, translucent membrane that covered his penis like a condom. The ring around the opening was an emerald green. This was all that remained of the beautiful, vibrant woman who had stood before him whole and gloriously naked not more than five minutes before. And would stand so again just as soon as he...
Came.
He came.
He came harder than he had ever come before.
And he did it again and again and again.
All of her that had been inside him sprang forth in a steady torrent from his continually orgasming member. He filled her thin membrane with pint after pint, quart after quart, gallon after gallon of her, more than he could possibly have drunk, recreating her with each drop that passed from him.
His eyes were closed, for he could not fight the waves of pleasure that washed over him. But he felt her grow, felt her weight press more and more upon his erection and upon his thighs. As he began to slow, he felt her hands, once again solid, reach down to rest upon his chest. When at last he was spent and he knew that she was once again complete, he could hear her joyous cries and feel her many orgasms spasm through her body until she, too, was exhausted and spent.
He was still inside her. He could feel her talisman the emerald stud that had pierced her ear now pierced her clitoris. He looked as his talisman, still on his finger. She leaned forward to rest her body upon his. He felt her hard nipples press against his chest and her hair brush against his shoulders as she gently kissed him. For the first time.
"Happy birthday," Callie said, smiling peacefully.
"So," she whispered. "What would you like to do to me tomorrow?"