Honey Flava
Water of your flesh, water of your soul, forbidden water.
The old woman repeated her chant three times, then took his cum down her throat like one would swallow a shot of bourbon.
She clutched her stomach and fell to her knees. A transformation was taking place. A beautiful, blinding transformation.
The last thing that he remembered seeing before he passed out into a sea of blackness was Tina’s eyes soften and her teeth flash behind a smile.
She had a beautiful smile.
The sun burned right through the tourist’s eyelids. Dehydrated, he felt extremely dehydrated. He opened crusty eyes and found himself sprawled in a small, overgrown lot behind a ramshackle building.
Where in the hell am I? he thought.
He struggled to his feet—his head pounded, and his loafers were missing.
He stumbled to the front of the building and read the splintery sign that hung above the door.
WAIKAPU WASHERETTE was painted in neon-pink, flaking letters.
An uneasy feeling washed over him. He tapped his forehead with his palm to try to jar the memory that was causing anxiety to well up in him from his brain.
He jumped when the door to the washerette creaked open and a beautiful young Asian girl with black eyes and a playful smile opened the door. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
She threw his loafers at his feet.
He stood there, stunned and confused.
She took a long drag off a thin, black cigarette and eyed his filthy khakis.
“You like wash clothes?” she asked in a voice that was too raspy for her flawless body.
Vivid flashbacks of the Wicked Wahine slammed into him like a linebacker.
He remembered. He remembered it all.
His mouth opened and closed without forming words. The flashbacks had left him as mute as a guppy.
She gave him a rough pat on the shoulder as if she appreciated that he proved to be so amusing.
He shivered.
An old woman came up behind him carrying a load of laundry. She muttered incoherently as she bumped her way past him into the building.
The beautiful girl nodded an acknowledgment to the old woman and slammed the door in his face. He could hear her laugh travel throughout the washerette.
In a panic, he unzipped his fly to validate that his penis was still there—that everything was normal and alright—to prove to himself that he was just temporarily insane.
Last night was just a weird hallucination that is lingering, he told himself. I have a normal-size dick and had an allergic reaction to the alcohol, that’s all.
He pulled out his cock and had a moment of immense relief when he saw that, yes, everything was okay.
He looked closer and began to feel dizzy. Very, very dizzy. The whole world spun around him.
His flaccid penis was covered in thousands of silver stretch marks.
He heard the cackling laugh behind the washerette door become hysterical.
He zipped up his pants.