Reflections

Olly awoke on the top of a roof. He wasn't sure how he got there, but when he collected himself, his heart underwent a grave drop.

Following a snap of his fingers, he returned to his college flat in a whisk of air.

"Ashley? Kurt?" Scouring the area found neither of his two roommies. He grimaced. Apparently, he needed to take a piss.

Dragging himself to the bathroom, he lifted the toilet seat. As his fingers wandered to his zipper, he hesitated.

"...you. You did something."

Zip.

Out flung his flaccid, if rather thick and extensive penis. Not long after, a trickle turned into a waterfall, hissing against the bowl water.

While washing his hands, Olly looked at his reflection in the mirror.

About three days ago, he had [sorta] acquired ownership of the world. It was like a dream made reality; the kind of fantastical scenario that horny teenagers conjured in the caverns of their underdeveloped prefrontal cortexes. He was currently holed up in the city, rooming in with his old friend Kurtis and the latter's old childhood friend and current co-ed, Ashley Almes. The former was not too much different from Olly, appearance-wise -- were you trailing them from behind, it wouldn't be amiss of you to mistake one for the other on an artificial glance; comfortably slim and white skinned, but with enough sculpt to indicate a dedicated work-out regimen, Kurtis was mostly laidback and did some sound mixing on the side, though he did have a tendency to flare up on a bad day. Ashley, on the other hand, was a short haired brunette with a cute fringe over her forehead, and a tight, tight body. She was somewhat thick, despite her well-maintained bod, but not necessarily voluptuous -- the legs on her, (and coincidingly, her ass), were the queen of the show, with thighs that were long yet rounded out in a perfect cylinder of fat and muscle. She had most of them to thank for her tall stature.

It began like an ordinary Monday. Olly had been getting ready for his first class of the day when a strange shimmer appeared in the mirror. At first, he thought it was a dollop of mist, and attempted wiping it off. When it didn't go away, he looked to where it was supposedly lingering beside him, but there were only specks of dust, gliding in and out of view as they passed through fields of sunlight.

Toothbrush lodged in one side of his mouth, Olly stood, frozen in place. "What the..."

"Heeeelllooooo Olly Steinberg! Ain't that a girl's name?"

"Who..?" He removed the toothbrush, spat into the sink, and washed out his mouth. "Who is it? Pam, is that you?"

"Noooooo Olly, it's me, the strange shimmer that appeared in the mirror!"

"You... you have to be joking..."

"Nooooope! I'm not joking, Olly! I'm not joking one bit! I'm here to give you the world! Literally!"

"Right."

"I tooooold you, Olly! This isn't a joke! It's serious! You have been selected out of a random raffle that takes place every few galarb-exponent disposition phases. Congratulations! This world is now yooour oyster!"

Olly wiped his hair on a towel. "Come out, guys."

"Olly Steinberg," the voice ignored his refutal, "do you accept your new title as Owner of the World?"

"No."

"Whaaaat!?" After a momentary silence, a gentle tremor suddenly rippled through the air. Then, out of nowhere, three women in two-piece swimsuits spontaneously dropped into his room. They looked around -- and very confused.

Olly dropped the towel. "THE FUCK!?"

"Meeeeeet," the shimmer's schlubby voice was suddenly accompanied by a menage of spotlights and game show music, "Miss America, Miss Turkey, aaaaaaand Miss England!"

The first two screamed, holding each other. Miss England raised her arms. "What is this bollocks!? You," she pointed to Olly, "you better get us out of here or you're goina get a fresh one up your bum, boy!"

"I don't--" As Olly backed himself up against the door, Miss America suddenly poofed away, only a fading swirl of dust in her wake. This caused Miss Turkey to scream again, until she also poofed away.

An irritated Miss England placed a hand on a hip. "Don't you dare--"

Poof!

Her crown fell to the bathroom floor, rattling before coming to a breathy, woman-less stop.

"Soooo I guess you don't like those dolled up, beauty pageant types..."

"What the hell was that!?" Olly picked himself off the ground. "Where are you and how are--how did you do that!?"

"I'm right heeeere!"

The shimmer in the mirror glowed, like a lightbulb surging with voltage. The college boy stared at it for what felt like two whole minutes.

"Olly," the shimmer cut through his mannequin impression, "it's tiiiime. You must now make your decision. Do you accept ownership of the world?"

Olly's parents told him of how he used to drum up crazy stories as a kid. He liked to make up stuff, stuff that never really happened, but he could spin as if it were all true. He also always had an innate appreciation for the baser impulses in life, and these two elements would often synthesize in private drawings and writings he'd conduct away from public eye. Suffice it to say, growing up the way he did, he developed a libido that was more kinky than it was necessarily carnal -- the discreetness of his ruminations probably resulted in some repressive latencies.

But he wasn't a psychedelic head. He wasn't actually crazy. He was just trying to mingle, have fun, and hopefully get a bachelor's degree in communications, or computer science, or whatever, and lead a normal, not easy, but normal, constructive life.

At what point, exactly, did he sign up to be the owner of the friken world?

"Uh..." Olly cleared his throat, shaking his head. "Okay. Assuming this is all real. Assuming I'm not dreaming. Assuming that was the real Miss America, Miss England, and Miss... er..."

"Miss Turkey."

"Right." He placed the towel back over the rack. "I don't accept."

"Whhaaaat!?"

"Well, you asked! Why act as if there is no other option if you're giving me choices?"

"Truuuue..."

"Might as well just grant it to me yourself, no questions asked," mumbled Olly. "Not everybody wants that kind of weight on their shoulders, you know."

"Olly," the shimmer spoke like a mother to a confused child, "this is very much the best opportunity you'll have in your entire liiiiife! This removes all the weight! And the wait you'd normally have to undergo to remove all the weight! This is one-hundred percent weight-free! I suggest you take it! If you doooon't..."

"What?" Olly leaned forward, eyeing the shimmer in his mirror. "If I don't, what?"

"If you dooooooon't....." The shimmer shrugged.

How did a shimmer shrug?

Long story.

"What?!"

After another round of silence, the shimmer spoke up. "If you don't, then we will have to give it to a part of you--"

"Great," Olly rubbed his nose, "you have to give me part of it, that makes no sense. Just find someone else to be your world... guy. Girl. Whatever."

"Nooooo, I said--"

"Wait." Suddenly, Olly had a solemn thought. Find someone else...

Find someone else?

What if that someone else was, like, Kim Jong-Un? Or Bolsonaro?

Or worse: Cardi-B?!

No. No, he couldn't endure a world of perpetual club music. Not in this lifetime.

If this really was all real. If this really was all true. And hell, even if it was just a prank -- in good conscience, at the least, he couldn't entertain the possibility of this just dancing around into someone else's hands.

He blinked.

"...shimmer, I don't want to be a full fledged Owner of the World, but the 'partial' thing you were talking about? I'll take it. Only if it means it doesn't end up in the wrong hands."

"Uhhhhhh...." The shimmer sqeuakily cleared its throat. "I don't think you understaaaand, Olly, I didn't say--"

Olly, however, already had one hand held up. "I've made up my mind, shimmer. Do it. I'll learn how to roll with the punches later."

"Oooookaaaaay then, weeeeelll... you assked for iiiiiitt!

"Olly Steinberg, you will now be having limited ownership of the world functions, partitioned off of the newly granted Owner: YOUR PENI--"

Knock-knock.

"Hey, what's the hold up? I need a piss!"

Olly came to in a sea of steam. Realizing he had left the faucet on for the entirety of his impromptu flashback, he quickly twisted it off and wiped his hands.

"Hey Kurt," offering the door to his friend, the two exchanged nods. Kurtis gave Olly an eye as he squeezed through the doorway.

"You good? You look pale."

"Bro, I'm always pale."

"Naw, not always. More off-white." Kurtis flung a finger. "This is pale."

"Shut up."

With Kurtis' insistence on his seriousness fading into the background, Olly strode down the hall into his bedroom. As he settled onto his wheeled chair, he stared at his backpack, sprawled against the corner.

World-ending, cosmos-bending stuff aside...

He probably should get some homework done.