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Fantasy Fiction

This story contains sensitive content

TW: Mental Health/Body Issues

Michelle Crawford spoke six languages fluently, earned two PhDs in finance and computer information sciences, could play the piano at a near master level, and earned in the high six figures as a senior executive at a global, tech company.

She had traveled the world (38 countries and counting), eaten the finest cuisine, stayed on luxury beaches, and swam with dolphins while working courtesy of her employer. Knowing what an incredible asset Michelle was to the company, they allowed her flexibility in her comings and goings, as long as she continued to generate new ideas and successful plans for the company. To anyone looking in, she had a brilliant life, one that she had worked very hard for, although she had also been lucky that her parents were able to afford the finest schools and tutors.

Yet, she yearned for the one thing that even all her money couldn't buy.

Michelle wished to be pretty.

Her head was too little for her huge body, which seemed to balloon in size even at the thought of food. Due to her hereditary heart problems, she couldn't undergo gastric bypass surgery or any surgery that required her to be put under anesthesia – unless necessary. Securing a hookup for Ozempic was easy (she was pre-diabetic, after all), and she lost 15 measly pounds, but welcomed digestive issues. Despite being overweight bordering on obese, her breasts had never gotten bigger than two, small floppy A cups. All that extra weight seemed to go to her stomach. Sometimes, she'd catch shadows of herself in the dark while naked, and she was almost positive she looked like the Grinch.

Her wide eyes were too close together on her head, her nose too big, and her mouth too small. At 45 years old, Michelle was prepared for the growing wrinkles on her face, but not that the acne that continued to stay with her since she was a teen. Desperately trying new techniques that estheticians suggested, her face tone remained uneven, her wrinkles deepened, and her acne prominent.

"What a gross-looking lady," teens had often pointed at her.

"Why does that lady look like a monster?" more than several kids had asked their parents.

"I can't complain about my looks any more compared to that old lady," several women – and men – didn't even try to whisper as they pointed at her.

Her one boyfriend, the one she had dated for six weeks, had finally sat her down and told her, "Look, you're one of the most intelligent and down-to-earth women I've ever met. You have the most incredible stories – and you spoil me. But I can't do this anymore. I'm not attracted to you."

Although she knew it was coming from the way he studied her face and body in disgust and the way he kept declaring how much hotter it was when she faced away from him during sex. But hey, at least she had finally gotten laid at the ripe age of 38.

Having flown in from Abu Dhabi and bringing the rest of her luggage into her New York apartment, Michelle looked through the trinkets she had purchased on her recent trip. Retail therapy had always helped Michelle soothe the negative thoughts in her head – and the various pains in her body. Pulling out the blue and white decorative oil lamp made of copper, with raised star-like symbols surrounding the base, she studied her most fascinating purchase. It looked like a genie's lamp and she found herself giggling to herself, proceeding to rub the lamp, beckoning the supposed genie to come out.

To her surprise, there was a brief flash and smoke, and a woman popped out of the lamp, floating mid-air.

"I am your genie,

Three wishes you can exhaust.

But be careful what you wish for,

Cause it comes with a cost."

Her mouth hanging open, Michelle rubbed her eyes and yet, the woman, the genie, still floated above.

"I can wish for anything?" she said.

Staring at Michelle, the genie repeated her previous phrase:

"I am your genie,

Three wishes you can exhaust.

But be careful what you wish for,

Cause it comes with a cost."

Rubbing her chin, Michelle thought briefly about the "comed with a cost part." The only way to actually test what the genie could do – and what her cost would be – would be to make a wish. I mean, she took risks at her company all the time, and she already knew she could not just turn away and ignore an unbelievable and odd opportunity.

So she turned to the genie and declared, "I want to be model thin."

The woman nodded her head, there was a flash of smoke and light, and the genie swooped back into the bottle.

Michelle hesitantly walked to the mirror and drew in her breath when she saw herself. Turning around, she discovered that she was very thin, had a flat belly, thin arms and legs, and once she pulled her jeans down, she found she had a heart-shaped butt. Her face looked beautifully thin, and she cried tears of joy. Remembering the genie's warnings, she carefully checked her body – and her bank account – to see if anything had changed. It hadn't. She didn't know what the cost was, but she was definitely loving her wish.

The Next Day

"Wow, you look like you lost a lot of weight," her CEO greeted over a quick ZOOM meeting.

"Thanks. Just diet and exercise. Finally figured it out," Michelle responded., beaming with pride.

"Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up," responded her CEO. "Anyway, I just want to remind you of the meeting with a possible tech investor from France. As always, I will leave it to you to do your magic. Plus, it comes in handy that you are bilingual in French. I know you can do this. Please let me know when you secured the deal."

"Sure thing boss," Michelle mocked saluting the CEO and they both laughed. "I better jump on the ZOOM meeting with him now. Our appointment is in five minutes and I don't want to be late.

"Okay, I'll let you go," responded the CEO. "Call me after."

Michelle switched the ZOOM meeting she had set up with the possible French investor, waiting five minutes before he popped up on the screen, exactly on time.

"Bonjour. Je suis pret a discuter d'investissement," he said.

Michelle opened her mouth to speak. But no words came out because she realized the language she had been fluent in for the past 20 years, was suddenly gone. She could not remember one word of French.

Pretending to have an audio problem, Michelle shut her laptop, thinking through all the foreign languages she fluently knew; French, Spanish, Italian, Russian, and Portuguese. She couldn't even remember the basic words of any of the languages. Was this the cost the genie was talking about? Everything she had knew and learned about the past was gone, just vanished.

Making a quick apology via text to the CEO by blaming a faulty connection, Michelle walked to Starbucks to grab a cup of coffee and mull over her decisions.

"Wow!" a lady walking back gasped out loud to her partner. Look how thin she is! I wish I had her figure."

Michelle smiled until her partner responded, "Yeah, she's thin, but as a flat as a board on top.”

The couple laughed.

Ditching the walk to Starbucks, Michelle decided to go back to her condo. She'd already lost her fluency in foreign languages, but she still wanted people to be jealous of her beauty. She didn't mind losing one more thing if it meant people would look at her and stop making fun of her.

Once at her condo, Michelle rubbed the lamp again, and the genie popped out amidst a flash of light, floating in the air and speaking:

"I am your genie,

Two wishes you can exhaust.

But be careful what you wish for,

Cause it comes with a cost."

Without hesitating, she told the genie, "I want a breast augmentation, double D's that fit my new body."

The genie nodded her head and soon afterward, glided back into the bottle.

Undressed in front of the mirror, Michelle checked out her body. Her breasts were perfect, a little big for her body, but she wasn't complaining. They were firm, soft, and didn't sag. Her stomach was flat, her thighs thin, her legs long and graceful. Although she knew there was a price to pay – as the genie had said – she looked at herself in the mirror and loved what she saw.

Wanting to take her new body out for a spin, Michelle decided to go to a fancy cafe for lunch, one that she frequented.

"Michelle? Is that you?" Manuel, a waiter, squinted, mouth agape. I know it's been a couple of months since I've seen you last, but you look fantastic.

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Michelle did a little curtsy. "Thank you. I've been working hard. "

"It shows," Manuel replied, his eyes lingering on Michelle's chest, almost not believing his look was one of desire and not of disgust.

"Well, have a seat. Only the best table in the house for the finest woman," Manuel guided Michelle to a table, winking at her. Michelle could get used to this.

As Michelle ate her food, her phone rang with an unknown number. Curious, she picked it up.

"Michelle, it's Dr. Foster," the voice on the other end said. What could Michelle's finance advisor want? She had completed her PHD years and years ago.

"Hi, Dr. Foster. How can I help you?" acknowledged Michelle.

"Yes, well, I hate to have to say this, but there are rumblings that your thesis was plagiarized. If this is true, well, we'd have to strip you of your PHD.

"You know that's not true!" yelled Michelle. "I worked very hard on that thesis – and even you said it was one of the finest pieces of work you have ever read."

"I know," Dr. Foster countered, sighing, "But it appears a similar thesis may have been written years earlier – and the committee is looking into it. It appears there are too many similarities. And well, if this is true, well, we'd have to strip you of your PHD.

With tears not in her eyes, Michelle hung out the phone.

Michelle couldn't finish eating, her appetite was now gone. Walking toward the kitchen to ask Manuel for the check, Michelle heard a conversation between Manuel and another person. "

Yeah, that lady Michelle, the one who used to be super fat, looks good. Her body is perfect now. I don't know what she's doing, but whatever it is, she fine," laughed Manuel.

The other voice responded: "Yeah, I saw. Great body. Ugly face. Her nose is huge. She's a butterface.”

Manuel responded, "Yeah, true. But hey, I don't have to look at her face while I'm doing her, right?" Both guys laughed.

Silently stepping away from the back, Michelle grabbed her purse, found her wallet, and threw down three 20-dollar bills onto the table, dashing outside.

Even with her wishes and the things she had lost, she still wasn't truly beautiful.

Rushing home, Michelle figured she had already lost most things that were important to her, so why not make her final wish to become the thing she always wanted - to be pretty.

Grabbing the lamp, she rubbed it, waiting for the genie to appear after the flash of smoke and light.

"I am your genie,

One more wish you can exhaust.

But be careful what you wish for,

Cause it comes with a cost."

Closing her eyes, Michelle told the genie, "I want to have a perfect face, have gorgeous features."

With that, the genie nodded and disappeared back into the lamp a final time.

Looking into her mirror, Michelle cried. She was perfect. A gorgeous face, perfect breasts, enviable body. She finally had what she always wanted.

3 MONTHS LATER

"Yes, turn to the side. Yes, you work the camera, Michelle. Yes, those underwears aren't going to sell themselves."

Michelle worked her body as the photographer requested, breasts out, hands on hips, and pouty lip shots. Sure, she had lost her ability to speak all foreign languages. And sure, her Alma Mater had stripped her of her PHD because they said they were certain of plagiarism. And finally, all the unique ideas she had swirling in her head had been stripped away, so she could no longer work at her company. But here she was, modeling, being finally looked at for her appearance and pointed at not in disgust, but in envy. And sure, modeling didn't pay what her former executive job did, but the line of men out the door certainly wasn't allowing her to open her wallet.

Finally, the photographer told Michelle she could sit down and rest.

As she did, the photographer and the photographer's assistant scrolled through the photos, nodding their heads at the ones they liked.

"She's gorgeous and these photos are amazing," the photographer's assistant remarked.

"Yeah, she is," the photographer admitted. "Very gorgeous."

Turning to the assistant and trying to whisper, Michelle still heard him when he spoke, "Too bad she's as dumb as a box of rocks."

September 14, 2024 19:56

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