Half a Sex Shop Ch. 05

Author's Notes:

This part is entirely from Kendra's POV. We will continue to rotate between Tom and Kendra as makes sense. Currently, there is no plan to have anything from Genie or Felix's POV, but I'm as bad at sticking to my word as I am at writing. So all bets are off.

Hope you enjoy my exploration of genies and real-life and whatever the hell this story actually is.

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Tom got to start this whole thing with an intro, so I figure it's my turn, right? Yeah, you remember his intro. It was all "la tee dah I'm a hardass and this is a dark gritty noir, let's fight in the mud, que masculine grunts". Ha! Love that man.

Genie parroted Tom's words to him, about welcome to his life. Life before wasn't... bad. Not in the way others have it. We didn't live on the streets or watch everything we love ripped away. We just couldn't catch a break. Couldn't get our feet under us. Couldn't even think about pursuing our goals and dreams. It was just existing. Now? Well, now I want those dreams in the sun. I want Tom to have every single one of his dreams, and if I get a few of mine too, all the better.

For all Tom's words, he's as much a throw-down fighter as I am a Disney princess. So now I'm looking at Jared, who just busted everything in my house, raising a crowbar at Tom. Nope. New life. Old life. I don't care. Time to fuck shit up.

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Jared was screaming. The words didn't matter; my brain dismissed them, just focusing on the absolute unhinged rage in his voice. The spit flying from his mouth was not so easily dismissed, it was fucking gross. It wasn't just flying, it was hanging in long, lumpy strands from his mouth. Odd what your brain latches on to, but I was almost as ready to beat him for drooling all over my stuff as I was him raising a crowbar at Tom. Almost. By which I mean that I definitely wanted to kill him slowly and watch him suffer in gruesome agony for threatening Tom, I only wanted to kick his ass for drooling. So maybe not almost.

I've heard people talk about things happening in slow motion. How time stops at key moments. Mothers trying to save their children, seeing everything displayed one slow frame at a time. That had never been me. I was the person who time sped up for when things got dicey, and when I came out the other side, everyone was wondering why in the hell I made such stupid decisions. Yeah, because my instincts suck and my timestop gene got swapped for light speed events and I didn't even know what I was trying to react to at the moment.

I locked eyes with Tom, he had finally noticed me, and I saw panic in his eyes. Just a moment ago, he was stepping back, trying to placate Jared. I saw Tom's face harden and his body stiffen with resolve. Damn idiot shifted from moving backwards to stepping towards Jared, he was going to try and fight. I knew it was seeing me that changed that. Not to try and impress me, heavens no. I didn't get turned on watching "my man" fight or defend my honor, and Tom knew that. He was going to fight to make sure that I didn't get hurt.

I started to scream, and then something happened. My gene was fixed. Time stopped. Except did it?

I was waiting for Sweet Dreams to start playing and give me my X-Men moment. Instead, I watched. It wasn't out of body because I was still in my body, I just watched from a third-person perspective as Jared, Tom, and a me that wasn't me moved.

I saw Tom stepping forward, fists coming up slowly, but still far enough that he couldn't reach Jared. Jared raising the crowbar. I heard myself scream. Saw myself lunge forward, grabbing at Jared's arm and the crowbar, trying to wrench it away. It was real. Everything was solid. Yet I knew it wasn't. Because real life doesn't move at half-speed and have dramatic slowdowns.

Yeah, dramatic slowdowns. Like now, as Jared reacted to my attack. As I tried to pull the crowbar away, he used my force against me and slammed it into my stomach. That was super slow-motion move one. I saw myself let go and start to clutch at my stomach. Jared drew back the crowbar, fully focused on me now. He swung it in a vicious arc with all his might and connected squarely with my temple. I saw the blood spurt. Saw my body go limp at the same time it went flying from the force of the blow. And there's super slow-motion moment two.

Oh fuck.

Oh fucking fuckidy fuck shit balls fuck.

I felt a giant red X flash behind my eyes.

With the flash, I felt movement. Everything was back.

I saw Tom stepping forward, fists coming up slowly, but still far enough that he couldn't reach Jared. Jared raising the crowbar. I heard myself scream. I ran and jumped on Jared's... wait. I stopped. What was going on? Did I just watch myself die? What the...

Red flash.

Holy fucking.

I looked at my hands. Jared was raising the crowbar.

OH MY GOD!

I have no idea what is happening. But... I shrugged, ok, use what you get Kendra.

So I watched. I watched myself scream at Jared to stop. At Tom to back off. I watched as I tried to prevent Jared from hurting Tom. I wasn't successful. Well, I wasn't successful in trying to stop Tom getting hurt, I was successful in watching a parade of violent scene after violent scene. I saw myself and or Tom injured multiple times. Which, fuck I'm going to need therapy after this, but it wasn't surprising. Not like I knew anything about fighting, same with Tom.

If my life depended on it, I couldn't have told you exactly how many times I watched different variations of the same event. I mean, I still had no idea what was going on; counting was not something that was really high on my list of things to do. In fact, it was right there next to wondering if my nails were clean, and is morality culturally defined or mandated by a higher power. Yeah, right fucking no where on the list because in that moment or moments or whatever was happening all that mattered was Tom.

So let's just say it was twenty different variations. Sure, I watched Jared win 19 different ways until I finally watched myself do something that didn't end up with Tom's body or my blood decorating the ground. Great, so now how do I stop whatever is going on?

Time snapped back.

I saw Tom stepping forward, but this time I didn't see myself; I just saw Jared in front of me. Dumbass with his crowbar raising in normal speed. Fuck. I really hope this works.

I screamed. Then I launched myself forward, big hero moment incoming.

Jared had his back to me and was raising the crowbar towards Tom. At my scream, he didn't stop, but I saw him half turn his head. I ran forward and kicked at the back of his right knee. My foot connected solidly, and I saw Jared's leg bend forward when he wasn't expecting it. He collapsed to one knee with not a sound.

Oh, that was different. When I watched, he screamed, let go of the crowbar, and grabbed his knee. Shit. I replayed what I had watched and compared it to what I had done. I kicked straight at the back of his knee, causing it to fold, but when I was time stopped, I had watched myself kick the side of the leg. I had watched as it bent sideways at an angle that knees were definitely not supposed to.

Now instead of standing right behind an incapacitated Jared with a broken knee I was standing there like a dumbass right next to a completely unharmed but now more pissed off than ever Jared. That's a big difference.

Tom had gotten in range of Jared just as he collapsed, and his furious swing had gone wildly above Jared's head. The momentum was too much, and Tom lost his footing, and I saw him start to fall, twisting awkwardly. Ok, great. Two screw-ups down.

That was when I noticed I was holding a brick in both hands, no idea how and it definitely didn't happen during the time stop. Fire engine red, with those three holes in it that I never understood the purpose of. This one also felt heavy as fuck. I raised it up and brought it down on Jared's head.

The brick shattered completely into dust. Really just absolutely exploded into a giant dust cloud, not pieces. All of it was dust. Jared pitched forward. Limp. Face down with a drool strand flying up over his eye. I stared at him for a second. I was trying to figure out what had happened.

Then I heard a grunt, and I remembered Tom. He was getting to his feet, looking at me with a look of bewilderment. This is one of those times I wish I was witty and quick on my feet with anything except juvenile penis jokes. Tom looked at me, obviously wondering what had just happened. I shrugged.

Yep, that was my big explanation. Let's just shrug. I didn't get a Quicksilver superspeed moment. It was more like the Robert Downey Jr. Sherlock, where he knows others' moves beforehand. Except that I'm not Sherlock, nor a fighter, so instead I got to watch myself try thing after thing that didn't work. So maybe a mix of Sherlock and Dr. Strange looking into the future?

I shrugged again.

I grabbed my phone from the pocket in my robe.

"Are the cops still coming?" I asked into the phone when I saw the call was still going. That felt extremely anticlimactic. I needed to have a talk with god or whatever deity/entity/thing was making up this shit, because I had a lot of notes.

It turned out the cops were still coming. About 10 minutes after I knocked Jared out. I was very glad I hadn't waited upstairs for them. I had seen Tom's body lying bent at odd angles in a spreading pool of blood enough, even if it hadn't been real. I couldn't have dealt with that if it happened for real while I sat on my ass upstairs.

When the cops finally got there, they were extremely interested in making Tom and me repeat our stories multiple times away from each other. It was obvious they thought something was being left out. Maybe they were two of the ones that got cutbacks from Jared to look the other way?

Unsurprisingly, they did spend quite a lot of time on the brick. I wanted to give them answers, but I didn't have any, and I don't think they bought my lack of answers as stress-related. Tom and I lived in a house made of stone and stucco. Not a brick in sight. Certainly not fire engine red that miraculously completely powdered itself, and that I couldn't explain when, where, or why I had it.

Thankfully, several neighbors had witnessed Jared beating down the door while shouting. Yes, thank you, Mrs. Appleby, for pestering me incessantly for the latest gossip about whether I saw Mr. Jones with that young lady half his age. No, it's no problem that you rang my doorbell at 10 o'clock at night, obviously, that's totally normal. But when you see an obviously angry man violently destroying my door with a crowbar, you just watch through your window without calling the cops or anyone? Oh, because you didn't want to get involved in something not your business or jump to conclusions. Yep, totally cool. That's the sign of a great neighbor, right?

It took two hours before they decided they had enough statements from everyone and left. We were advised that Jared would be taken to the station, but that we were also not to leave town. They said there were serious questions about whether my actions constituted self-defence or were an unprovoked assault. Good fucking riddance.

As soon as the police left, I dragged Tom to the couch. I practically tossed him down, laid him down lengthwise, and then curled up as little spoon.

"Kendra..."

"Shh. I need this, Tom. I'll explain, I promise. Right now, just hold me."

I pushed back against him, needing to feel him. I needed to remind myself that he was there. That he was fine. That none of those awful scenes I had watched play out had actually come true. Right now wasn't a shut up and tell me I'm beautiful moment. It was, please just hold me so I can feel your warmth and smell the scent that is just my husband, so I know he's still here and I'm still his.

They say women are the ones who always ask to cuddle and then ruin it by talking. For the record, yes, when I feel close to my husband, I do, in fact, want to talk to him. I want to hear his voice rumble past my ear, regardless of what he's saying. Talking while being held is... intimate in a way that most conversations aren't, and it's not just physical.

Ah, what the hell. All that to say that for once, I was curling up in Tom's arms, content to lie there forever and for once, FOR ONCE, Tom wanted to talk. Men.

"As much as I love this, Kendra, I should probably call work and let them know I may not be in."

"It's Sunday, Tom," I grumbled. Ok, I did care what we talked about; work was not on the list.

"What do you mean it's Sunday? Kendra, it's Monday morning."

Damn man. Did sex really scramble his brain that badly?

I pulled out my phone. It turned out we were both wrong. It was Tuesday. At least according to my phone, which had never yet lied about which day it was, regardless of my begging or threatening most Monday mornings. I could feel Tom tense as he saw the date on my phone.

I guess sex... oh, that might explain the state of the bedroom. I started giggling.

"Tom, what in the world did you have Genie do to you? I mean, oh my god, that was amazing, but I didn't realize it was like three days of non-stop, completely scramble both our brains good." I pushed my ass back against him teasingly. Maybe a quickie with that fucking ridiculous dick and those arms that... wait.

"Tom, what happened to you?" I sat up and looked at Tom.

It was the same Tom as always. The one I loved with all my heart. Not the red-eyed, tail-wielding, beyond ripped, sex machine Tom.

Tom looked away from me. Then he started talking and dropping revelation after revelation on me.

So he told Genie he didn't want anything to change about himself, except taking care of my fears? Yeah, that fit. Actually, that more than fit. If my life depended on it, I would have bet it all on Tom doing exactly that. I wouldn't have hesitated, and I would have been right.

Then Genie lied and stole his phone. Good to know that Genie was, in fact, capable of lying. Not that we had any reason to distrust anything else they said, but it was nice to know that at least some human foibles went beyond just us.

Tom was tearing up as he described, from his point of view, coming home and having his way with me. The need and overpowering desire for me. Ok, I didn't love the possessiveness of it, and any thought of owning someone else could go right to hell. But needing me so much, he felt like he had lost control? Guy, girl, it doesn't matter; we all try to make our partner feel that way. That I did it to him made me feel a small burst of warmth.

The part about him rushing out to the shop to try and save me from what he had done made me tear up a little as well. Poor Tom. Fucks a girl for days on end until we both lose consciousness. Then he thinks he did something wrong and panics, trying to fix it. I filed that away for a future date as something that needed to be fixed. He deserved the same experience, and fuck me if I didn't want it too, but with waking up to a loving wife not terror.

I was a bit perplexed about the demon thing still standing in the store, but he said we had 24 hours, so that was something to figure out with Genie and Felix. I still had no idea how Jared played into all of this.

"Oh, right, sorry I totally forgot that part."

Yes, dear, you certainly did forget just a small detail of why the hell my house got destroyed by the local dime store mobster.

So Jared made a deal with Carl, Felix disappeared him, and moved the memory. But now somehow Jared was still mad at us and screaming about stuff that, while unhinged, certainly sounded like he remembered at least some of it? Whoever thought having magical genies fix your problems never thought it through. How do I fix this?

Deal with the most pressing problem first, I guess?

I grabbed Tom's pants and started unbuttoning and unzipping them.

"What the?"

"Look, thinking about us fucking for three days straight made me horny. So shut up and get hard so we can have a quickie and then fix this mess."

I pulled his pants down and grabbed his very soft cock. I started working to get him hard, but I could see he was not feeling it. Fine.

I whipped off my hastily donned shirt, no way I was going to let the police show up with me still in a bathrobe, and wrapped my tits around Tom's cock.

"Oh yeah. You like that, honey? Like my big tits squeezing you." I began tit fucking him and taking him into my mouth. There's the start of the erection I know and love.

In less than a minute I had Tom hard and I could stop my bad attempt at being a porn star. I shoved my own shorts off and settled on Tom cowgirl style. I debated reverse, as it felt better to me, but right now I was still feeling emotional, and that meant eye contact. Poor Tom, it also meant he got to play with my boobies with his mouth and hands instead of just hands.

I had barely gotten him inside me when he pulled me in tight and began kissing my boobs. Yep predictable. Trying not to interfere with his fun, I began rocking my hips rather than bouncing. To me, bouncing was exhausting and fun, but rocking always felt more sensual and intimate. Maybe it seemed more like a seductive dance?

Either way, I was feeling good very quickly. Not in an orgasm way, with everything going on in my head I wasn't sure I actually would cum. But this feeling and connection with Tom. That's what I needed.

I began running my hands through his hair. Playfully tugging and forcing him to look up at me with just the slightest hint of dominance. Crooning in his ear, how good he felt. How much I loved his hands on me. He knew me well. Oh yeah, play with my thighs and tease my clit.

I could feel Tom pushing just that much harder. His breath hitching and gasping. I pulled his mouth to mine and did my best to curl his toes just with my tongue. I was squeezing his cock at the same time, trying to keep rhythm and mostly failing. Tom was groaning into my mouth, and I knew he was close.

"Cum for me. Cum for me baby. Show me how good I make you feel!" I pulled out of the kiss to try and push him over the edge. Adding just a hint of bounce to the rocking.

I felt Tom grab my hips and pull me hard against him. Holding me there as I felt him cum. Pushing in a jagged, uneven beat as he gave in to that inescapable need to be as deep inside me as possible.

I laid my head against him and just lay there as we both held the other. I felt my eyes tear up as I thought again about losing him. Last week's talk with Genie and this morning's violence were doing a number on me. I'd never really considered death too much, at least not my own or Tom's. Now, though, it felt too real. Too close.

I pulled him in tighter. Tom was all that mattered. If I had to give up everything Genie did for me, I would. I wasn't going to lose my Tom.

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"Ok, so what problem do we tackle first? Because, as nice as this is, I think my leg is asleep." Tom rumbled.

I pulled my head away from Tom's shoulder.

"You know better than to interrupt me when I'm cuddling. Don't tell me that Genie's makeover affected your brain."

Tom chuckled.

"Can't break what's already broken, love."

"Fine. Ok, so umm we have Jared breaking up the house and trying to kill us, the police obviously trying to find a way to put us in jail instead of Jared, your sex-demon back at the shop, and both of us didn't show up to work yesterday." I was ticking each thing off on a finger as I said it.

"And I think Mrs. Appleby may have seen your boobs when you whipped off your shirt."

"What!" I screeched.

"I saw movement by the front door before you distracted me." Tom shrugged.

I looked at Tom fiercely for a moment.

"You didn't say anything earlier because you didn't want to kill my mood," I said as a fact. I didn't need to ask.

Tom shrugged again, but he was only partially successful in suppressing his grin, and I could see his mouth twitching.

"Ok, well, that would have been nice to know earlier, but I think I'm going to leave that off my list. Not my fault if she has to go buy a bunch of batteries now to get this..." I raised my arms above my head, fingers splayed pointing out, then turned them inwards, palms up, and lowered them, gesturing to myself. "... out of her head."

"Tom, I think you should shower and then beg whatever job you were supposed to be doing for forgiveness. Since you don't have a phone and can't call. I'll come up with something to tell Ann. As long as nothing blew up, she won't care too much. Then tonight we meet back at the shop for sex-demon makeover time."

I got off Tom as I was talking and didn't bother waiting for him to respond. I did pull my clothes on quickly. Tom's story about a peeping neighbor had made me self-conscious, and my front door was held together and shut by duct tape. So I think I have reason.

Tom was out the door within 20 minutes. I don't envy men much, but the ability to walk out the door after throwing on a random t-shirt and running your fingers through your hair wasn't fair. Blame women, blame society, blame fucking Vogue and supermodels I don't care. Simple fact was that if I walked out without make-up, it would get noticed. Sure, most don't care, but there are plenty of jerks in the world, and that's enough.

I sent Ann a text apologizing and saying there had been a family emergency. I was part of a two-woman HR department at the local factory, so I knew the code words. As HR, she wasn't going to dig too deep unless she had to. As a friend, she would ask, but if I was vague, she would understand. Family emergency could mean anything as benign as my car not starting or I was sick, but it also encompassed everything up to and including death. Friendly word of advice, when someone says family emergency, don't push it. Just say you're sorry and ask if you can do anything for them. Usually, they will give you more information on what happened, but it's what they are comfortable with and often more illuminating than responding to a specific question you may ask.

At work, I was not so lucky, though. It turned out something had blown up, figuratively. We were facing yet another workforce reduction, to use the vernacular of our puffed-up CEO. Man couldn't just say they would look at reducing hours for everyone, and probably laying off people as well. Nah, let's try and hide what we are doing because that calms everyone down and inspires trust.

He had made the announcement yesterday to everyone who was there that afternoon. No heads up to Ann, my boss and head of HR. Just dropping a bomb on everyone and afterwards telling Ann he would get her the numbers of what needed to happen. Grrrr. Maybe it was good I hadn't been here, I wasn't as good at hiding my feelings as she was. I might have ended up on his list.

Either way, Ann did not appreciate my no-call, no-show yesterday and then showing up today halfway through the day. We still didn't know anything about what was happening and were taking turns trying to reassure everyone, asking for more information, and begging the executives to please tell us something. Neither job was going well. Workers wanted specifics we didn't have, and the executives ignored us.

By the time I left, I was a ragged mess. I wanted nothing more than to flop on my bed and pretend the world didn't exist. If this were any other day, I would have done exactly that. Tom would have made dinner for me and pampered me if he were up for it. Or if he also had a bad day, we'd order food and then both of us be as useful as bumps on a log. Taking comfort in our mutual exhaustion.

Today I couldn't do any of that. I was halfway home when I realized that I had to meet Tom at the shop. I made it two more stoplights deciding if I really had to before I remembered Felix had told Tom 24 hours. That didn't really leave time to ignore it tonight and deal with it later. Not unless I wanted to wake up at some ungodly hour like 5:00am, which was not an option. Walking over glass with my bare feet was more appealing than getting out of my bed earlier than absolutely necessary.

So back to the store I went. Cursing genies and sex for lack of better things to direct my anger at. My curses were inventive enough tonight that by the time I parked, I was feeling much better about life. No less exhausted, but it was therapeutic to, in the safety of my car, scream out just how shitty life could be in the most exacting and creative ways I could think of.

When I parked, I took a moment in my car. Felix said the time on Genie Island hadn't actually happened in real life and that while we experienced it that it would mess with our brains a bit. The time almost felt like it had been a movie I watched about someone else's life. So I was going to disregard that time.

Which meant that in the space of less than a week I had buried my in-laws (no love lost there), had my body magically transformed by a corset, met two genies (I don't care if they don't call themselves that), gone to a magical island (ok I was counting it as an event just not time), been told I can make any changes I want to my body including turning back time, had my husband become a sex demon (in mostly a good way), and watched myself and Tom die multiple times (at least I think I did, still working through that).

As if that wasn't enough, it sure seemed like Jared knew at least some of what had happened to him. The police were either trying to cover for him or maybe just disliked Tom and me because how was knocking a guy out who broke into my house and threatened me not self-defense? Then my job, which had always been a mildly boring but steady thing, decided now of all times to get exciting in a bad way.

Well, I had wanted to change my life. Hell, I had often wished to change just about everything about my life, Tom being an exception. I had always wanted to go exotic places, see all the things you saw on TV growing up, maybe write a book, or do something so that people knew my name. Then I had planned, somehow, to raise a family. Couple of cute little girls to teach how to be nerds in the best ways. None of that had happened.

I didn't regret any choice that had given me Tom. But when Genie sent us Genie Island, I thought I might actually get at least some of the chances I hadn't before. Now I was just hoping that I didn't end up in prison or some black hell hole being interrogated by the Feds about magic and genies.

Ok, enough feeling sorry for myself. Magic can fix this, right? Famous last words. I'm sure anyone who has actually met a genie can attest to that. Problem is I didn't know anyone else who had met a genie whom I could ask.

And I was stalling again.

Alright.

Let's go meet my husband's sex-demon alter-ego and figure out how to keep all the fun parts without the creepy stuff. Yes, parts. Because if he tries to get rid of that tail, I may murder him. That thing felt amazing and I was getting horny just thinking about it.

I pushed open the shop door.

"Hi sex demon!"

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Notes:

This is another shorter chapter. Apologies, but I'm struggling with shit in life right now and writing is hard.

I was tempted to let Kendra and Tom come home from Genie Island and get to experience shenanigans before having to deal with life, but obviously, I did not go that way. I think it's more fun to have to figure out how shenanigans fit in between the more serious real-life stuff.

For anyone curious, I have two more stories like Half Sex Shop: Kim, that are in progress. I think one or both of those will likely be posted before I do part six of this. Honestly, though, I'm intimidated trying to follow Kim. I'm very proud of that one, and maybe I'm making a bigger deal in my head, but it's a hard act to follow.