Jessica Misses Her Mark

Ernest was still baffled and clutching his head; Jessica still had a chance—such a slim chance—to get her ring back. She rolled off the couch and lunged with her usual agility...

... but could barely manage more than awkward duck steps as she fought the radiating bliss. She widened her steps, she tried to fight through the pleasure... but the moment was all Ernest needed.

The wish... worked. They all had. Holmes, you've cracked the case!

“I wish you sat down right now!”

Jessica’s ass rocketed backwards even as she stepped forward, awkwardly thrusting her bared rump onto the rug beneath her. Despite gravity demanding she topple backwards, glued thereupon her ass remained... and there she squeezed her thighs together as she struggled to plea, “No-!”

Ernest clenched his teeth and clenched the ring still on his left index finger with his right hand. She had nearly broken the digit trying to get her prize, and Ernest now felt small pains all over, the most agonizing being where a beloved Disney classic had elbow-dropped him on the skull. “I wish you would stop speaking!”

A terrible wish, however long he kept it so... and one fulfilled with unseen power. Jessica was mute... she had been ever since her cheerleading accident, or so her proud fellow cheerleaders would tell anyone if asked. But for Ernest, she had suddenly become mute... and for Jessica, this sudden disability had one silver lining: it meant her gasps were noiseless as the compound wishing drove her into orgasm.

Ernest watched... and simply stood marveling as he watched Jessica’s bared breasts heave, her legs quiver, the floor glisten, and her face cry out in tormented ecstasy. Her body glistened with sweat... and he couldn't fathom how or why beating her in this fight would be the first time he ever made a girl come.

But Ernest grunted as his scalp surged with another stab of pain. He held his head with his right and cursed as his body began to ache from the earlier spear.

A door creaked... and then Ernest remembered why he wanted to be quiet on his way in.

He looked around the house... and at the broken figures his mother prized almost as much as she did Rocky, their cat, who now strolled back into the peaceful living room. “I... I wish everything we just broke or damaged got fixed!”

Jessica’s legs knotted as the sensation punched through her coming down to build her up anew. Her breasts were suddenly hidden again as her top—doomed as it was—reconstructed itself. The front door closed, picture frames hopped back onto screws, shards of glass magnetized and fused onto the faces of those frames, the mechanical cat meowed as its batteries popped back in, and the Disney figures went backwards in time until they were safely on the shelf and reconstructed. Rocky, the lone and most precious cat of the house, had watched with confused caution until the loveseat flipped back onto its legs, scaring the bejesus out of the poor animal and sending it scampering for some hiding place that wasn't alive. Ernest felt no pains in his body now, and his senses were now fully returned... just in time to see a revolver peek out from the edge of the living room entrance.

"Mom!" Ernest called out, if only to not get shot.

The hand gripping the gun took its finger out of the trigger as its wielding arm went slack. An exasperated sigh of relief turned into his mother's demands, "Ernest Redmond, why are you making such a damn...! O-oh..." His mother stepped into the doorway, her eyes locked on a Jessica still coming down from her heated throes, and lifted the V of her shirt back onto her shoulder. Ernest's mom was physically average, if thick: after having three kids, she only let herself go enough to feel like she had, but really she was barely overweight. Without a bra, her heavy breasts sagged nearly down to her belly button under the shirt, and her large granny panties did nothing to hide the wrinkles of sagging flesh below. The most distinct thing about her appearance was, to Ernest, her face: no matter her years, she retained that exotic, Mediterranean beauty framed in black hair and preserved most in the brightest blue-green eyes most people who knew her would ever see.

As mothers do, she was also a calculating and cautious thing around her teenage and adult children... and seeing a gorgeous teen still trembling in some porno edition of a cheerleader uniform on her carpet raised the simultaneous alarms of: (1) "I shouldn't be interrupting them," (2) "What did they break?" (3) "You go, son!" (4) "If he didn't use protection I swear to God-" and (5) "Who's going to clean that rug?!"

Ernest, for his money, just wanted a time-out. "I-I can... explain...?"

His mom continued to mentally spin the Wheel of Motherhood as she tried to land on only one of her thoughts.

"Was that Ernest?!" yelled his sister from her door.

"This isn't- shit, I need... I wish for... um..."

Stop wishing, Jessica wanted to scream.

"It was, sweetie, now stay in your room. I'm going to have a small talk with your brother-"

"... just a quick time-out!"

Ernest got his time-out.

The ring was no monkey's paw: it gave its user what it wanted, and at worst the user suffered natural consequences of exactly what he desired. Going unnoticed to put your meat in a girl's mouth was an invitation for her to eventually try and close her teeth, for example. But what Ernest wanted was a pause in the action, a moment to regroup and think, to stop the clock...

... to stop the clock.

It was a silence that became sacred in its depth. The stirrings of life and the world, the burning of the sun, and the glow of the moon... ceased. Photons of light no longer traveled, but the ring understood that Ernest did at least want to see; air ceased to move and fill vacuums, but the ring understood that Ernest still needed to breathe. Ernest shifted his foot a single inch on the floor as he looked around dumbfounded; here, it sounded like a roll of thunder in the unbreakable quiet of the world frozen in time.

The time-out would be quick... but time was now truly out.

"Jesus-" Ernest flinched at the boom of his voice in this place. The wish had been granted... he had a wish-granting ring. How many wishes did it have? He definitely made more than three already, so... "I wish... for... an instruction manual for this thing? Unless-" But the ring didn't accept addenda. An over-sized textbook some thousand pages heavy suddenly popped into his grip, nearly tipping him over with its weight. Its cover was emerald green broken up with bands of golden lightning, but no apparent title could be seen on its face or binding. "What the... heck is...?"

"- about... d-don't worry about what, just stay in your room!" his mother finished saying. "Ernest- what...?" She didn't remember him holding a book... but she was more distracted by the cheerleader shuddering on her ground and staining her carpet just like she knew she would. Not traumatizing her son or ruining his relationships was now a second priority; given that this excited girl was still perfectly quiet, it just looked like she was peeing in the middle of the living room! "G-Get off that rug! That's Kashmir!" It wasn't, but you would never convince her otherwise. "That's older than you!"

Jessica, mortified as she came again in front of Ernest's mom, just shook her mute head as her butt refused to move... and she continued to leak onto the carpet.

"I wish for a time-out that didn't end until I decided it should!"

Jessica mouthed "please" and remained in the middle of that word as she froze anew.

Ernest nodded in an unsure satisfaction. "Alright, yeah, I'm... alright. Yeah." He laughed nervously. "Just a... just a little bit of... frozen time. Nothing to be... freaked out... about... Deep breaths, Ernest, deeeep breaths..." He repeated this as he narrowly avoided a nervous breakdown... and finally realized that the book in his hands could possibly help keep it away for good.