by West, Sam
CHAPTER SIX.
When Pam came back to herself, the Djinn was gone. She lay on her back on the kitchen table and stared up at the ceiling, too confused for the moment to think or to move.
It took her a second to realise that she felt fine. Better than fine. She felt fantastic. She sat up, not so much as a twinge anywhere in her body.
Then came the thought; I’m sitting up, swiftly followed by I have my leg back! And my eye!
The ropes that had bound her in place were no more. She guessed that the smears of ash that clung to her flawless flesh must be the remains of the rope.
My flawless flesh, she thought in excitement and confusion. For the first time she properly looked at the leg that had miraculously grown back after being lopped off. Except this leg was nothing like her previous leg. It was slender, long and shapely. It was the most beautiful leg she had ever seen in her life. It looked a thousand times better than any photo-shopped picture of a leg on a hosiery packet. It was…perfect.
The realisation fully hit her that she had a whole new body and she staggered away from the table, paying little heed to the black, human shaped scorch mark on the table top. She was dizzy with elation, she was delirious with it.
Oh my god, oh my God, I’m beautiful, my body is beautiful, I am perfect.
She grabbed a lid off a saucepan on the country kitchen style AGA cooker and held it up to her face. A half laugh, half sob escaped her lips. Despite the fact her reflection was distorted, she could clearly see she was beautiful. She still looked like her, but her face had been subtly rearranged into a composition of symmetrical perfection. Still the same dark eyes, but now wider set and larger, the dark bags of fatigue and crow’s feet disappeared. The nose smaller, the lips fuller, the jaw more defined and the double chin gone.
She replaced the saucepan lid and unconsciously her hands travelled to her breasts. Her perfect, big breasts. Breasts that would put a playboy centrefold to shame because these babies were silicone free. She marvelled at their shape, slightly conical without a trace of sag. Her hands travelled lower to her ironing board flat stomach with the tiny little belly button, down to the narrow patch of pubic hair above the tight little cleft of her vagina…
A creaking noise from somewhere beyond the kitchen made her jump and the reality of her situation smacked her full in the face. She had been so busy vainly wallowing in her own physical beauty that she had temporarily forgotten about the madman intent on torturing her to death.
Well, fuck him. She grabbed the blowtorch he had left on a kitchen bench and made sure she knew how to work it.
Pam positioned herself next to the closed kitchen door, brandishing the blowtorch before her. The fucker was gonna get it.
Less than five minutes later, James re-entered the kitchen. He was still naked and damp from his shower. He didn’t stand a chance. One second he was opening the kitchen door, the next there was an open flame in his face.
The smell of seared flesh filled the room and she grinned in triumph because this time it wasn’t hers.
She towered over the crouched man who was holding his ruined face and mewling like a run over cat, dying by the roadside.
“You like that, fucker? Now you know what it feels like to be set on fire.”
The blow torch hissed into life again, and she kissed his shoulder blade with the blue flame. He squealed and jerked away from her, rolling onto his side. She glimpsed his face through his splayed fingers as he howled in pain.
“Not so handsome now, are we? You look like Freddy Kruger.”
Even though what she had done to him pleased her, she didn’t like the screaming. It gave her a headache.
“Who are you?” he sobbed in a high pitched wail that sounded nothing like the deep voiced man that had picked her up.
“What do you mean, who am I? It’s me.”
He gazed up at her. Pam saw she had only melted one side of his face. There was no blood, the wound had been instantly cauterised. It was a mass of blisters and blackened skin and his eyelid looked as if it had melted over his eyeball, sealing it shut. The blank confusion in his eye was laughable.
“It’s me Dumbo, Pam. The prostitute you picked up. I’m not really a prostitute you see, I’m a cleaner. I met this Djinn the other day, and I get six wishes if I do six things. Nasty things, mainly. So anyway, I wished to be beautiful just now and so I am. Beautiful. And whole again.”
She smiled down at him. She could only imagine how beautiful she looked right then, and it made her smile all the harder.
The man edged backwards away from her on his bare backside. Pam noticed how shrivelled his penis was, like a walnut whip.
“How did you get in?”
She sighed in exasperation. “It’s me.”
“Keep away from me. I’m sorry I hurt your friend, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.”
“What’s the matter James? I thought you liked to play rough?”
She took a step closer.
“Get away from me.”
“Why? What are you going to do about it?”
He whimpered and cowered from her like a beaten dog. Pam had had just about enough of him. He was pathetic, he didn’t deserve to live.
She aimed a kick at his head, her bare, shapely foot connecting with the ruined side of his face. He screeched like a banshee.
“Oh, shut up you pathetic little shit.”
She aimed the blowtorch at his head. His beautiful blonde hair blackened and smoked, then caught fire. He fell to the floor, uselessly throwing his hands in front of his face to protect his burning head. Pam followed him with the blowtorch, burning the backs of his hands until they too were blistered and black. He tried to crawl away from her, but she was relentless.
“Nooo,” he screamed.
Or at least, she thought that was what he was screaming, it was hard to tell, it sounded curdled, like he was gargling with his own heated blood. He lay on his side twitching, curled up in the foetal position. She took that opportunity to train the blowtorch on his throat. His scream faded away and turned into an odd, rattling sound.
Not surprising really, seeing as she was burning a hole right through his Adam’s apple. She watched in fascination as the flame ate away at his flesh and blood and a gaping black hole appeared. She continued with the blowtorch after he had died because she was fascinated by the hole she was making in his neck.
“You fucker,” she said, finally switching off the blowtorch.
This is the third person I’ve killed in the space of twenty four hours.
She knew she should have been horrified by that fact. She wasn’t. They deserved it.
Does Wayne deserve it?
She didn’t know how she felt about that. The Djinn was right. She hadn’t loved that man for a long time. But still. Could she kill him?
Yes, came the unbidden answer. It’s a small price to pay. He deserves it too.
Smiling to herself, she stepped over the bastard’s body on the way to fetch her clothes. Thankfully he hadn’t touched those, they still lay in a heap in the corner of the room along with her shoulder bag.
To her dismay, they no longer fit. The little black dress was about six sizes too big. She was pretty sure she had gotten taller too, because even though the dress hung off her like a sack, it seemed to be shorter. It was now an A-line tunic that barely covered her bum. Even the shoes were too big, or certainly too wide, her feet rattled around inside of them. The length of them was OK, but she figured she must have lost a shit load of weight off her feet too.
She giggled. This was just crazy. She stuffed the high heels in her bag, along with the money he had given her, unconsciously she touched the lamp for reassurance as she did so.
Thanks mate, I’m sure I’ll make use of it.
She didn’t even bother with the tights. What was the point, unless she wanted to look like Nora Batty.
She reached the front door, feeling anxious for the first time that someone would see
her leaving the house. At least it was still night. The grandfather clock in the gloomy hallway proclaimed it to be four fifteen. Not that she was tired in any way. Whenever the Djinn fixed her up it was like he bunged in nine hours of restful sleep in the process.
Opening the door a crack, she peered out. The street was silent. Which she supposed it would be. It was no man’s time; a shade too late for most party revellers and too early for the majority of workers.
And the perfect time for her. She slipped unnoticed out onto the street and kept to the shadows with her beautiful face lowered. A sense of elation washed through her. She felt on top of the world, like she owned the night. She knew, in that moment, that she was capable of anything. She also knew that she should be getting back to her hotel. She looked ridiculous dressed as she was, she didn’t want to get into anymore shit.
Pam padded down the dark street on bare feet. She knew of a twenty four hour taxi rank in Soho, and she was able to head in the vague direction of it. She walked swiftly, head bowed, determined not to get into any more trouble.
Not tonight anyway.
Pam reached the safety of the hotel without incident. The taxi man had leered at her, which was indeed something she was unused to. It pleased her though, she could not have been happier to be so beautiful.
Once in the privacy of the hotel she stripped off her baggy dress and examined herself in awe in the full length mirror in the bathroom.
Her reflection had her crying in joy. Even though her body was perfect in every single possible way, it was her face that made her breakdown sobbing. She thought she had looked beautiful in the saucepan lid. She hadn’t seen the half of it. Her face was exquisite, as good as any Hollywood starlet’s or supermodel’s. Even her hair, un-styled as it was, hung in a glossy dark curtain halfway down her back.
I can get a job as a model, she thought in elation. I’ve always dreamed about being a supermodel…
Pam smiled through her tears of gratitude. She was rich. She was beautiful. She was very, very happy. She was damn sure she wasn’t going to let anything or anybody take it away from her.
When the night turned into day, Pam realised she had a few problems. Number one was that she had booked into the hotel looking the way she had used to look, so she couldn’t stay here anymore. Still, she figured that as she had paid for a few nights, she could just sneak out today and not come back.
Problem number two was that none of her clothes fit her anymore. They looked like clown clothes.
As she thought these things she was staring at her reflection. That was all she had been doing for the past few hours, just staring and staring and staring at herself in the mirror hanging opposite the bed on which she sat. Narcissus had nothing on her. It was with great difficulty that she finally managed to wrench herself away from her perfect nude beauty and pulled on a pair of far too big jeans and a baggy t-shirt that was supposed to be fitted.
She snuck out of the hotel without incident. It was a different girl behind the reception desk whom threw Pam only the most cursory of glances.
By eight a.m. she was out on the street. It was busy with Londoners on their way to work and Pam strode purposely along with the fast moving flow of the crowd although she had no idea where she was going or what she was doing.
It was a shock to be stared at. Even dressed as she was, heads swivelled. Male heads, mainly. She found it intoxicating and couldn’t suppress a smirk. Pam decided to hit the clothes shops. Shit, she had a God damn, mother fucking billion pounds in her shoulder bag plus ten grand in loose change and a body to die for. That had to be a recipe for some seriously hardcore shopping action.
She was painfully aware of the lamp in her shoulder bag, but overall decided she was happier carrying it on her then leaving it behind anywhere. She would just have to guard it with her life and kill anyone that went near it…
A few hours later Pam was sipping coffee in a trendy coffee house off Bond Street. Over one hundred thousand pounds worth of designer clothes in bulging bags rested against her Jimmy Choo clad feet. She had changed into a beautifully cut, knee length red dress that made her look and feel like a catwalk queen. She was just contemplating blowing another thousand quid on the hairdresser down the road when a shadow fell over her little wooden table.
She looked up at the good looking man standing over her.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she replied.
He looked young, like, early twenties or so. His whole persona screamed of privilege and wealth, from his immaculately coiffed, highlighted hair down to his deceptively casual jeans and loafers.
He was the type of guy that wouldn’t of pissed on her if she was on fire a few days ago and she took an immediate dislike to him. She reminded herself that she had been on fire last night, and the thought made her smirk.
“You have a lovely smile. I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“That’s because I haven’t been in here before.”
“Are you model? You’ve been doing a bit of shopping I see. Do you mind if I sit?” he asked, pulling out the wooden chair opposite hers before she had a chance to answer.
“Whatever.”
Her dismissive attitude obviously didn’t deter him.
“I’m sorry, I just had to come over, it’s just that, well, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. Would you come out for a drink with me tonight?”
Pam was taken aback. This was the first time in her life that she had actually been asked out on a real date. Wayne had just sort of happened. But she was beautiful now, she supposed that this was something she was going to have to get used to.
Oh, the hardship of it all…
“You think I’m a jerk, don’t you,” he said to her silence. “You must get asked out all the time. I just thought that, you know, people like us should stick together, it’s not like I’d want you for your money or anything.”
People like us should stick together... If only the prick knew.
Then she remembered some of what she had to do today and her mind shifted gear.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you and me are not alike in any way, shape or form.”
He looked taken aback.
“We’re not? Why not?”
She leaned in closer to the arrogant young man across the little table and spoke in a low voice.
“Because I’m a prostitute. A very, very high class call girl. Men pay thousands just to glimpse me naked.”
His eyebrows shot up into his carefully styled hair.
“You are?”
“I am.”
“But you’re so, so, beautiful,” he finished lamely. “OK then, fine. I’ll pay. Why don’t we go back to mine, I only live round the corner.”
Pam thought of last night.
“I don’t think so. I always use hotels. The client pays of course.”
The young man checked his watch.
“I don’t have to be anywhere for a few hours, so shall we go?”
“Fine.” Let’s get this over with. “In actual fact, why don’t we skip the hotel? I’m in the mood for roughing it.”
“How’d you mean?”
“I mean, does this place have a bathroom? I’m so horny, I’ll even give you a special discount. But there’s one condition.”
The young lad’s expression was priceless. His face had turned red and his mouth hung open slightly. Pam had him hook, line and sinker, and she knew it. The power of it was intoxicating.
“Just name it, baby.”
“I want to give you a blowjob and I want you to cum in my mouth. And then I want you to fuck me.”
“Is this a windup? Where’s the camera? You can’t be for real.”
“Oh, but I am. Deadly.”
She got up from her seat and brushed past him. She felt him shiver. Smiling softly to herself she picked up her bulging bags and walked the length of the mirrored, opulent coffee house towards the toilet sign above the far door.
I hope they have
mirrors in the toilet too, came the unbidden thought. Her pussy felt hot and achy when she walked and she realised she was wet.
My God, being beautiful has turned me into a real kinky bitch.
Pam supposed it was because this was the first time in her life she had ever been desirable. She was drunk on her own hotness, she was positively delirious with it.
The bathroom shared the same décor with the rest of the place. Soft lighting complimented the dark, shiny wood. The floor to ceiling, tinted mirrors lining the walls brought a smile to her beautifully curved lips. There were three stalls, and she pushed open the first of the heavy wood doors, propping up her bags against the toilet.
Less than five seconds later, her target had joined her in the bathroom.
“What if someone comes in?” he said, his voice shaky.
Pam laughed. “Oh come on, where’s your sense of adventure? I want paying up front.”
“Fine,” he said, pulling out a wallet from the back pocket of his designer jeans. “How much?”
“Twenty should cover it.”
The blood drained from his face.
“Twenty thousand, right? I don’t have that much on me.”
“No, silly. Twenty quid.”
“Twenty pounds? I thought you were high class.”
“Baby, I am. I’m doing this for fun.”
And she sure as hell didn’t want to fail the task. If he didn’t have enough change on him to cover it, then she would have to go through all of this again with some other prick. So she was going to make damn sure she was paid upfront.
It doesn’t matter how much he pays you, so long as he pays you.
He fished out a twenty pound note and handed it to her. Wordlessly she accepted it and stuffed it in her shoulder bag.
“This is crazy.”
“You bet your ass it is,” she giggled, reaching out from the stall where she was stood, pulling him in by the arm.
He went to close the door behind them and she stopped him.
“What if someone comes in?”
“Then we’ll shut the door.”
She stood with her back pressed into him, facing outwards so he had a clear view over her head of her entire body and face in the mirror opposite. She lifted up his hands and pressed them to her incredible breasts, squirming her backside against his groin as she did so. Immediately she felt his cock spring into life and a rush of warm air against her neck when he groaned softly in longing.