Becky and the Book

They were in an abandoned public playground about five houses down from the Erickson’s and Becky was heaving, having sprinted the entire way. Apparently, becoming a teenage wet dream hadn’t helped her cardio any.

After about a minute, Becky regrouped herself and turned her attention, and ire, on the book in her hands.

“What the hell was that? What did you do to me? No wait, more importantly, what the hell did you do to Chelsea?”

“You worry too much,” The book whispered.

“Worry my ass! Remember our deal. You are very close to being tossed in a wood chipper.”

“I didn’t do anything permanent to her. I sent a psychic pulse with the knowledge and intent to cast that spell into you.”

“What was the spell?” Becky said, biting back her rage.

“Something to keep her distracted while we escaped. It’ll just last a few hours. It will bring her sexual side to the forefront of her being, shaping her and filling her with lust. Once the spell runs out, she will return to normal.”

“Why is everything sexual with you?”

“You really don’t know much about me, do you?”

Becky glanced around, making sure she was alone. She felt wired and nervous.

“Obviously I don’t.”

“I’m the book of lust, darling.”

“Great, just perfect. Not only do I have an evil magic book with a mind of its own, he’s also a sex pervert.”

“He?” The book asked.

“You’re a girl?”

“Neither, I’m a book.”

“Well fuck me,” Becky said.

“If you wish,” the book responded.

“No, goddamnit. Look, what if Chelsea goes crazy in the next few hours and does something she regrets. What if she does-what if she does what I did.”

Becky’s face flushed with shame.

“It’s possible. More likely, she’ll just fuck herself until she passes out. She’ll wake up returned to normal.”

“Fine,” Becky said. “I am trusting that you aren’t lying to me. You’re on the edge Mr.”

“Again, not a Mr. just a book.”

“You’re even closer.”

“Apologies.”

“So where to next?” Becky asked. She idly pulled out her phone and glanced at the time. School ended in five minutes.

“We need a quiet, private place to commune. This won’t do.”

Becky panicked as she suddenly remembered her personal detention session with her principal.

“Shit! That’s going to have to wait. I have something at school I’ve got to do.”

“Is it really that important,” the book asked, seemingly exasperated.

“Look, the whole reason I saved you from that lockbox was to get my life back in order. I can’t just keep fucking up.”

There was a long pause as the book seemingly deliberated. In the silence, Becky began to doubt her own resolve.

She had played hooky again. Her principal was going to be furious. Was it worth it?