A Beautiful Wish Ch. 02

Chapter 2: Song of the New Day

Light poured in through George's bedroom window and splashed directly across his face. He had tried to fight the growing realization that he was awake by covering himself with a pillow and willing himself back into a dream with Dawn. But he eventually gave up, and picked himself up off the bed. He looked around hopefully, but she was no where to be found. The mood enhancing candles and furnishings were gone, and back were his normal every day, run-of-the-mill stuff. His clothing piled out of his closet, and his various knick-knacks and books were strewn about the floor like usual.

He let out a heavy sigh as he lay back on his bed. Just the night before, he had experienced a dream so vivid that he was uncertain it was actually a dream. He dreamed of a beauty created just for him, who could grant him any sexual wish he could imagine. He had named her Dawn.

But Dawn was gone, as was any evidence that she had ever been there. He felt a sudden sense of loss as he remembered the things she had said to him in her sweet breathy voice. She had told him it was her purpose to love him unconditionally, to make all his dreams come true.

The realization that she didn't exist made him tear up. But then he felt very pathetic laying there, trying to hold on to a dream. He chastised himself for letting his fantasies get the better of him. But even still, it was the best dream he ever had.

Seeing that it was getting to be two in the afternoon, George got up and strode to the bathroom. He paused, something was not right. He suddenly realized that he was completely naked. George never went to sleep naked. He had always been a sweat pants and t-shirt kind of guy.

He stood their confused for a moment before his self-consciousness took over and he felt compelled to clothe himself. He looked around for something clean to wear, which was no easy feat, when he caught his reflection in the mirror over his dresser. His eye, which had been so whimsically healed by Dawn in his dream, had not gone back to the puffy shiner that Rocko had left him.

Then he heard something coming from downstairs. It sounded like someone was singing. He thought that it could be his mother, but she wasn't supposed to be home until Monday. He reached for a pair of old gray sweat pants and threw them on along with a dark blue t-shirt. He crept out of his room to find the source of the music.

He proceeded quietly down the stairs as he followed the song. It was soft and serene, almost ethereal. He couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't actually hearing it. He thought he could feel it, like it was echoing through his mind. There were no words, they couldn't have done the voice justice.

He reached the living room and the source of the song. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. There, in the far corner of the room next to an old cabinet, was Dawn. She was examining the various photos that covered the top of the cabinet as she sang happily to herself.

She was wearing one of George's white formal dress shirts, which was much too big for her. The sleeves hung down past her delicate fingers and the collar encompassed both her slender neck and her bare right shoulder. Below, she wore a pair of George's boxers which she had rolled up to be as tight as possible across her perfect, heart-shaped bottom. Further down was a pair of long socks pulled up to her knees with two blue bands around the top.

Dawn continued to sing, oblivious to George's presence. She bent forward at the waist to pick up a framed picture, her hands still inside the over-sized sleeves. Her hair fell forward and she brushed it behind her ear with a single graceful movement. She gazed at the photo wistfully as she sang.

Just like she had the first time George saw her, she managed to leave him completely speechless. He could only observe as his perfect woman examined her surroundings serenely. The notion occurred to him that he should get out of there. He still couldn't believe she was real, his mind couldn't grasp the concept. He thought that maybe he was going crazy.

He didn't know what to do, but he could only imagine how awkward it would be if she turned and found him there staring at her. He moved to go back upstairs so that he could think about what to do next, when he bumped into a lamp sitting on an end table. George reacted quickly to catch it but it still made a tremendous amount of noise as the lampshade crumpled in his large hands. He looked over at Dawn like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. She met his nervous gaze with a happy smile on her pretty face.

"I uh, I wasn't listening or anything," he stammered, "I was just um, on my way to the kitc..."

Before he could finish, Dawn had bounded across the room and flung her arms around him. She caught George completely off-guard, and knocked him on his back with a loud crash. She landed on top of him and kissed him deeply. Her bright, honey colored hair fell around him, and her sleeve encased hands rest on his shoulders. George couldn't think, he could no longer hear that voice inside him that told him to be cautious and timid. He could only hold her tightly and kiss her back.

Eventually, she broke from the kiss and looked at him with her happy, unguarded eyes, "Good mor... I mean afternoon Master."

He was still reeling from all that had transpired. "Are... are you real?" he pleaded.

She gave him another sweet kiss, "This feels real to me, Master."

"Yeah, but are you really real, and not some dream?" said George.

She tilted her head and smiled in amusement, "I suppose I am a dream in one sense. I was created to your specifications to be everything you need in a partner, and those specifications were taken from your subconscious. But beyond that, I am very much flesh and blood, just like you."

He let out a sigh and sat up so that she was sitting on his lap, "I'm sorry, that wasn't what I meant..."

"You mean, am I going to disappear and leave you all alone?" she finished. George nodded, his eyes downcast. "No Master. Unless you wish it, I will never keep my heart from you."

He nodded. Still unsure of how he was going to handle her. "Alright, Dawn. And, you can call me George."

"I am sorry Ma... I mean George," she rolled her eyes at her blunder. "It is just that, calling a Master by name goes against my subservient nature. Names have power, and by giving me permission to use your name you are allowing me a certain amount of freedom beyond what is typically acceptable between a master and slave."

"Do you really believe that you are a slave?" he asked.

"Well, I admit that you do not treat me like a slave. But the magic that binds me to you demands that I always be ready to follow your every command. And when I use your name I feel like I am your equal rather than your servant."

George could tell that she was a bit distressed over the subject of where they stood with each other. He wasn't sure where this relationship was going, but he was certain that he didn't want her to be his slave. To George, that would make him no better than a guy like Rocko.

He pulled her close to him and hugged her tightly. Listen to me Dawn," he said as he stroked her silky hair, "I've never wanted a slave. I am no more a Master of you, than you are of me. if you really aren't going to disappear..."

"I will not," she said quickly.

"I believe you," he amended, "Then our relationship is going to have to be way more than you fulfilling all of my sexual wishes. I'm sorry if I'm not cooperating with your whole master/slave thing, but I couldn't live with myself if I treated you that way. So, please call me George. And when that nagging voice inside says that you don't deserve to, ignore it, because it's wrong. Okay?"

Dawn didn't answer, she just buried her face in his neck. He could feel her breathing become labored and the collar of his shirt dampen. She was crying again. He held her even tighter. He wanted to say something that would put the issue to rest, but he could think of nothing. Instead, he focused on her weight on top of him and the wonderful feeling of the two of them together.

Finally, he heard her say something, but it was too muffled for him to understand it. "What did you say, Dawn?" he asked.

Dawn pulled away a little so that she could look at him. He understood what she had said immediately, it was written all over her face. She loved him. Her eyes, the colors of a sunrise, spoke volumes. They were slightly puffy from her tears, but that didn't make her any less beautiful, or their meaning any less sincere.

She began to vocalize what her eyes had already told him, but he stopped her. He was afraid that her feelings were being coerced by the magical attachments between them. "Wait Dawn, don't say it."

"Why not?" she whispered.

"I... I don't know. I'm just... not ready for that."

She looked down and nodded. "Very well. Um... would it be alright if I called you Master on occasion? I know that I will have trouble remembering to call you George."

"I don't really mind if you call me Master, I just don't want you to feel like you have to. How about this, you can call me George in public or when we are just talking, but if you want to call me Master in private, you can do that too."

"Aww, you are not making this easy on me, George," she whined.

He shrugged. "Sorry, this is kinda new for me. It's not everyday that a beautiful woman wants to call me Master."

She gave him a sudden quick kiss.

George couldn't suppress a grin. "What was that for," he asked.

"That was for telling me that you think I am beautiful. And for your benevolence. You are unlike any master I have ever heard of."

He scratched his head nervously, "I guess. I mean, it's no big deal, really."

"As you say. I appreciate your kindness, nonetheless."

"Alright well, I'm starving. Let's get some breakf... I mean lunch." They both laughed a bit and stood up. Dawn wiped her eyes on her sleeves. George had to stretch, as his legs had gone a little numb from his position on the floor.

While he stretched he took the opportunity to admire Dawn's outfit again. She looked like the embodiment of the sex kitten, and when he remembered some of the fun they had the night before, he couldn't help but get hard again.

"By the way, I love your outfit," said George.

Her expression brightened immediately, "I knew you would. I woke about an hour before you did and I wanted to look pleasing for you. I took this ensemble from one of your more pleasant fantasies."

George laughed heartily at her premeditated attempts at turning him on. "Well, I'll admit that I've been fighting an urge to give you a little smack on the behind."

She gasped in mock astonishment, "You mean this behind?" She turned around and bent at the hips, like she had done when she didn't know anyone was watching, and braced herself against the back of the couch. "You know that is very wrong of you. You should not be thinking about taking advantage of such a sweet and innocent looking girl. It does not matter that you made her a woman the night before, nor does it matter that she wants you to. You should be ashamed of yourself for wanting to take advantage of her affection for you."

George was floored by her sudden change in tone, but couldn't deny how sexy she was. He stepped up behind her and gripped her by the hips.

She gave him another playful gasp. "Oh my! You are really going to do it! That is so bad, so wrong."

George laughed again and gave her a light playful smack. He let his hand linger on her ass and rubbed all around her curves. Then he let his hand sink between her legs to rub her pussy through her boxers.

"Oh no, now look what you are doing. You are touching this poor girl's sore but not nearly fucked enough pussy. All she wanted to do was walk around the house in her man's clothing and day dream about the greatest night of her life. Now it looks like she might get taken over the back of this couch!"

"You mean the only night of your life," added George. He slipped his thumbs underneath the rolled up waistband and pulled them down.

"But George, we are in the living room. You cannot just come up behind sexy girls, grab them by the hips, bend them over, and then fuck them senseless in the living room. Someone could walk in and see your big cock sliding in and out of her wet pussy. What would the neighbors think?" She was really hamming it up, but she didn't move.

George pulled her shorts down to her knees and then pulled down his sweat pants enough so that his rock hard cock was free. He rubbed the head around her lips of her wet pussy and did his best to tease her. "You know what I think? I think you dressed this way on purpose. I don't think you are nearly as innocent as you say."

George pushed in and Dawn gasped for real this time. He went in slowly, still afraid of hurting her. But she was wet enough, so he increased his speed. He slid inside her again and again, fucking her hard and fast. She tried to continue talking the whole time, but she was having trouble with the intense pounding. "No, no! What would her... parents think! They worked... so hard... to raise her right! She... is a good girl... oh!" She flung her hair back over her shoulders and cried out.

As her orgasm approached, she lost her ability to keep making sentences and just started shouting, "So wrong! So bad! So good! She needs it! She should fight! Oh no! She... she..." She started shaking and screaming as the pleasure washed over her. Her knees buckled and she would have collapsed if George hadn't been holding her hips tightly.

He paused to let her recover. But he was soon back to his previous tempo. He felt his own orgasm approaching rapidly. She resumed her role-play. "Oh no, you are going to cum soon! You will probably cum inside her! And without protection! You could get her pregnant you know! Is that what you want, you want to get this pretty young thing knocked up? This is so unfair. All she wanted was to be a little sexy and now she is going to get a load of cum right up into her womb. Oh, George! Do it! Cum inside me!"

George couldn't take any more. He didn't know if it was just the vigorous nature of the encounter, or the talk about getting her pregnant. But he had never cum so hard in his life. He felt like he was cumming in quarts, yet none escaped her hungry pussy. It pulled and squeezed like it was trying to devour him.

Finally, he finished cumming. He pulled out his deflating cock and stumbled backwards, only to fall on the carpet with another loud crash. Dawn collapsed next to him. They were both out of breath and sweating through their clothing. George couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. There he was, his pants around his thighs, his sticky cock hanging out, laying next to a smoking hot genie with her shorts hanging on her knees. Her over-sized shirt had fallen open with one of her large breasts exposed. They looked at each other, and they both laughed at the state of things.

"So, what was it we were supposed to be doing?" asked George.

"I am not sure, but I think it might have had something to do with you making me lunch," said Dawn smiling.

"Oh really?" he grinned.

She crawled over to him, her shorts still around her knees and said, "Yep, and you said you were going to make it good because it is going to be my first meal, ever."

He kissed her, "Well, what are we waiting for. Lets get you fat and happy!" He had always liked that phrase. His dad had used it all the time before he died. The sudden memory of his long dead father brought him down from his euphoric high and he realized just how disheveled the both of them had become.

"Hey Dawn, can I wish for us to be refreshed and clean so that we can enjoy a delicious lunch without feeling gross?

He felt the tingle again. "Yes, I can do that."

"Sweet, do it. I suppose a shower would suffice, but I don't want to put off lunch any longer seeing as how dinner is coming up rather quickly."

"Aww, a shower sounds like fun," she whined. Tingle. Flash. Both of them were instantly clean and rested, like nothing had ever happened. In fact, his clothes were actually cleaner then when he had first put them on.

"Have I told yet how amazing you are?" he asked.

"Not today," she said sweetly.

"Well come on, I'll tell you over lunch." He stood up first and then helped her to her feet.

George scoured the kitchen for anything that might resemble a meal. His mother wasn't joking when she had asked him to go food shopping. There was nothing really easy to make, nor was anything particularly enticing.

Eventually, he decided that he would make as much as he knew how and hope she liked something. He started with some grilled chicken and a few spices, then put on some packaged noodles. The smells wafting from the chicken delighted Dawn to no end, and George had to hold her hair back to prevent it from catching fire a couple of times, as she bent low over the stove to get a good whiff.

As George cooked, Dawn moved around the kitchen, picked up every pot, utensil, and gadget, and examined it gleefully. Her favorite by far was the blender. She found a couple of oranges, an apple, a few grapes, and proceeded to blend the hell out of them. But she forgot the lid. One of the grapes shot across the room and bounced down the hall. Dawn chased after it, but she left the blender on and more bits of shredded fruit flew all over the walls and ceiling. In a panic, George tried to cover the opening with his hands. But not before he got a face full of orangey, applely, grapey goop.

When Dawn returned from her epic chase, the rogue grape safely trapped in her delicate fingers, her exuberance changed to hysterical laughter at the sight of George's awkward state over the blender. George just rolled his eyes as he waited for her to finish. He thought that the sound of her laughing was particularly divine, even if she was laughing at him.

Eventually, she turned off the blender. Then she gave George a kiss on the cheek where a large blob had landed, and sucked it in. The realization that she hadn't peeled the oranges or de-cored the apple hit her almost immediately. She swallowed it, but proceeded to make disgusted faces until the taste left her.

After the battle with the blender, Dawn continued her tour of the kitchen. If anything was edible, she took a nibble and proceeded to describe the sensations in every detail. George watched her from the stove. Her unending delight in the seemingly mundane amused him greatly. She knew what everything was and what everything was supposed to do or taste like. But the experience of those items was what she lacked, and she took it all in hungrily. He also noticed that Dawn had the uncanny knack of discovering which example of any group of like items was the best and why.

Dawn's curiosity finally abated, and she returned to George's side. "Can I help?" she asked happily.

"Sure, babe," he handed her a large plastic spoon, "stir those noodles for me. Yeah, like that. Keep it going until most of the water is gone."

"Okay. Babe," she said heavily.

"Oh sorry," he laughed nervously, "That just sort of slipped out. My... nothing, sorry."

"It is quite fine, George. What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, its not important," he said shortly.

"Oh please, George. Do not do that. Tell me, tell me. Please!" said Dawn in mock anguish.

"Well, it's just... my Dad used to call my Mom that all the time. It was his pet name for her I think."

"Oh," she said in quiet astonishment. "What did your Mother call him?"

"You're going to laugh at me."

"I would never. However, if you do not tell me, I may not be able to stop a few of these noodles from landing in your hair." She pulled out a particularly large noodle and placed it gingerly along the top of his head. "You see George, the rebellion begins."