Nathan was an unimpressive figure of a lad. His lank blonde hair, dirty-blue eyes, and acne-riddled complexion made him the brunt of many classroom jokes. Often he’d crawl away from schoolyard beatings with a bruised eye, his broad spectacles either snapped or hanging off the end of a blooded nose.
   By the time he hit seventeen, he was quite used to an after school session of pain.
   The bullies, always the jocks with their sports jackets, football gear, and fast cars that daddy had bought for them, would stand and cheer as they took it in turn to kick Nathan about in their circle of muscular bodies, a gaggle of cheerleader girls watching and giggling like cheap tarts in a back street.
   But Nathan would endure every second of this regular torment just to get a look at her – Samantha Benedict.
   Tall, blonde, blue eyed and popular, Samantha had the type of body any lad his age would die to touch; hell, any man, any age would’ve gladly laid down a life at her feet for the opportunity to stare up at her and beg for a kiss. She’d stand with the rest of her cheerleader friends as the jocks beat on him with demented glee.
   Often, she’d kiss her boyfriend, Marcus Striper, the ringleader in Nathan’s daily circus of pain, and urge him to hit the boy again, smiling seductively and lapping at the air between them, her fingers playing over her thinly-veiled breasts in a pattern of promise should the lad satiate her sadistic desires.
   No matter how much of a bitch she was to him, Nathan wanted her.
   Every night, after every beating, he’d lie on his bed and retrace in his mind the patterns her fingers had made across her body and imagined they were his own. He’d tease himself hard and think of her lips, her thighs, yearning to lay but a single fingertip on her sacred and perfect form. The way she snarled in desire as boot after boot found Nathan’s ribs – god, it was impossible not to touch himself. He’d not last long, his imaginings finding him grunting into his pillow, his palm wet and gluey.
   Yes, it was true: some nights, when escape could easily have been made, he would wait around for the pack of boys and their sweethearts to find him, just to watch her body as it gyrated in the tight confines of her cheerleader outfit.
   None of his friends – you could count them on two fingers – knew of his lust for the girl. They’d think him mad, madder than they already did. No, this was his private desire, and he’d suffer in silence for her, content to live in his fantasy world.

Today, he’d taken things a step further in his obsession.
   Good fortune had found him cleaning out the waste bins in the schoolyard, a punishment administered by his sports teacher for ‘not putting his back into it’ during the weekly humiliation that was football. After bandaging up his wrist, a rough tackle snapping it back and pulling a tendon, he’d been sent to clean out the trash. ‘Throw yourself in whilst you’re at it’, his teacher had sympathetically advised.
   What strange fortune is this, you ask? Nathan found himself in the vicinity of the girl’s locker rooms.
   Noticing that the girls were busy on the field practicing a mesmerising series of movements for their new cheerleading routine, Nathan acted on a burning impulse and slipped into their changing rooms.
   He spotted her clothes immediately. He’d watched her as she’d climbed from her boyfriend’s car this morning, marvelling at the way her micro-skirt rose up to reveal a small, red thong. The same thong he now slid from her shower towel. She’d probably taken off the small garment to replace it with another, larger piece of underwear, fearing she’d reveal herself during one of the routine’s energetic moves. He’d gladly have given one of his kidneys to see such a thing.
   He knew he should take his prize and flee, but did not. Instead, he gazed at the flimsy piece of fabric in his hands…and lifted it to his nostrils.
   Just as one of the cheerleading team walked in.
   She screamed, ran from the room, and was soon joined by the coach who’d been a matter of steps behind her.
   His dressing down had been hard. Not only were his parents informed of his perverse acts, but also he was made to apologise to Samantha Benedict face to face, in front of all her teammates. They snarled at him, spitting whispered, venomous remarks as he stood shaking before her. The slap he’d received, however, was one he would treasure. The softness of her skin, the feel of her nails as they scraped his cheek – bliss. Even after his parents had grounded him for as long as they could, with three months of chores and no allowance, plus a scheduled visit to the school councillor looming over him, Nathan had that evening found blissful release at the thought of her skin, her thong, her nails. The cost was worth the memory. He’d cherish the moment.
   As, it seemed, would Marcus Striper as he’d smashed his face into a blooded mess the next morning.
   Bleeding, clutching his swollen testicles, Nathan had limped to the nurse’s office.
   He’d received little comfort for his pain, the news of his ‘wicked perversions’ already reaching the ears of the God fearing Christian lady: an ice compress and a pill, then back to lessons. Her manner had been colder than his mothers.
   After school came a repeat of every evening since his first grade, but double as vicious. It seemed that Samantha had invited all of her friends, her boyfriend’s friends, team mates - hell, anyone that would listen to her - to join in with the beating.
   They’d kicked too hard, at least for his resolve, and a rib had compacted.
Reluctantly, he was certain of this as he’d seen the teacher watching his beating with no less than absolute delight, the slaughter had been stopped, and he’d been sent to the hospital in an ambulance, bleeding and bent crooked in pain. ‘Serves you right, you little shit’, the teacher had said as the emergency services bundled him into the back of their wagon.
   One hour later, and he was still sitting in the waiting room. His rib throbbed and his head ached so much he thought it would roll from his shoulders. There was a worrying click in the seat of his spine when he moved, which he tried not to do.
   Bored and looking for something to dull the pain, he took up a dog-eared magazine: ‘Fortune’, the cover read.
   It was an astrology and mysticism magazine, and Nathan found himself flicking through its coffee stained pages with little real interest, but at least it took his mind from the pain for a few moments. After scanning the contents, twice, he found himself reading the small ads at the rear of the magazine. God, some of the people who read this thing were worse than him he laughed, though inwardly as any movement to his ribs was fast becoming agony.
   ‘Lonely wizard seeks exotic witch for spells and romantic full moons’; ‘crystal balls for sale: $55 each’; ‘Looking to sell large collection of ritual masks’; ‘the Cult of Cthulhu – meets first of every month, call…’ The list went on and on.
   He was about to close the magazine and toss it back to the table to reach for another when he spotted an advert he’d missed on first glance: ‘Le Merchant’s Wishing Box. Three desires made real, or double-your-money cash back guarantee, limited offer, only $50’.
   Surely, it was a joke? Wishes didn’t come true, did they? It had to be nonsense. Then why was he tearing the page from the magazine and pocketing it quickly as his name was called from the administrations desk?

That night, Nathan read the whole of the advert again. After emptying his wallet and savings jar, he prepared his application.
   Before school the next day, he visited his post office and filled out a postal order, making it payable to ‘Le Merchant’s House’. His mind swimming with the possibilities the wishing box would offer, he went to school.
   When classes ended that afternoon, with the thought of the wishing box playing heavily on his mind as it had done all that day, the beatings didn’t seem half as bad.
   He eyed Samantha as she spat at him – she’d be the first of his wishes.

Three days later

He found the box waiting for him that Friday morning. It came wrapped in thick folds of stained brown paper that were obviously recycled from many past postages. He tore the paper from his prize. There it was: his wishing box.
   It was approximately four inches by four inches, with each face decorated in a golden leafed design that at once fascinated Nathan with its complexity and beauty. For its size, it felt somewhat weighty, as if a secret item was locked away inside.
   He turned the box in his hands and examined the surfaces in detail. Three different patterns, each doubled up on opposing sides of the box glinted into his eager eyes. But how did it work?
   Wait, there were instructions included in the wrapping. He’d almost thrown them away in his desire to examine the box – it was so mesmerising.
   ‘Your darkest desires await your asking. Receive a wish for each of the different faces you decipher. Think hard on your desire, know your will shall be made true, and solve the riddle of Le Merchant’s box. …Best wishes…’
   It was a puzzle box. If he understood correctly, he had to crack it in order for his wishes to be granted. Easy: he’d bested that Rubik’s cube in less than a day when others were peeling the coloured stickers from its sides. A child’s logic problem would fare better against him!
   He waited for his parent’s to leave for work, and then returned to his room deciding that school was best skipped today. He’d forge a sick note later, when he’d solved this box. Hell, if he’d done just that, he’d never have to worry about school again…or indeed a great many trivial things.
   Excited fingers locked the door to his room and he sat on the floor with the box cradled in his hands. After clearing his mind with a few deep breaths, and turning his thoughts to his requests, he twisted it slowly. His eyes fell upon each face to pick out every last detail of its design. He’d peel the secrets from its edges and take the power that had been denied him all his life.
   Those bullies would respect him; they’d beg to be in his favour. The teachers would worship him…and the girls…no, the girl, Samantha…he’d make her perform such pleasures to his body she’d act like a high-class whore on heat. He found himself becoming aroused by the thought of her touching him, holding him, her tongue lapping at places only his hands had ever found.
   Yes, she’d be his first wish.
   A picture of her gyrating before him, dancing a sexual ballet for his eyes alone, stripping slowly, seductively, revealing every inch of her voluptuous form, made his heart beat faster.
   He noticed that his fingers had been unconsciously working the box as he’d thought of his hands doing the same to her wetness, and he felt the tiniest movements within hum into life. He cast his gaze to the closest edge.
   The circle of gold decorated with four dashes surrounded by a mesh of intricate patterns, slowly revolved. Almost untraceably, the sphere rotated one whole turn and when it had finished its cycle, a column eased itself from the flats of the box to stand out against the surface. Here, almost two inches from the box’s face, it turned again, and sank back into the box, falling unnoticeably into position. If he hadn’t seen the circle perform the act, he would never have noticed anything had happened.
   But the magic did not stop there.
   A tune came from the box. Nathan smiled as it played to his ears in delicate, tinkling tones that reminded him of a toy he’d had when he was a kid.
   It was a cheerless tune, a lament even, and only sad thoughts of lost youth, though he was far from adult, drifted through his mind. ‘His hand as it burned on a hot stove and the punishing he’d received for his carelessness; a beach’s sand was kicked in his face by older, rougher boys; the death of his dog under the wheels of a speeding car that had never stopped, the taunts of children when he’d first worn his glasses…’ The tide sent tears spilling from his eyes.
   But then he thought of her again – Samantha. Her lips, her thighs, her breasts as they pressed against the soft folds of her outfit; she would be his.
   Freeing one hand from the box, he found his hardness and gasped at the fierceness of his erection. Nathan grunted and sighed as he beat himself into his palm, jerking his body wildly as his mind flooded with images of the sexual conquests he would have with this girl. She would be his slave. She would make real his wildest fantasies. She’d beg for his touch.
   He climaxed with hard and powerful surges rushing through his body, stronger than any ever before.
   Nathan spent the remainder of the day pleasuring himself with thoughts of Samantha Benedict and the times they would spend locked together.

The weekend was a time for sports practice, and that meant cheerleading rehearsals.
   Nathan dressed himself in his best clothes and made for the track.
   She was not there.
   Cursing himself, he snuck inside the school and made his way towards his locker; whilst he was here he may as well collect the books he’d need to complete the homework assignments he’d neglected to finish due to his absence and time spent thinking about the box.
   She was there. She stood leaning against his locker, her smile beaming at his approach. Did she giggle nervously as she straightened herself up? Gulping, and half believing an attack from hidden boys was imminent, he edged his way towards her.
   “Hi, Nathan. How are things?”
   She was speaking to him. To him! He couldn’t believe his ears.
   “Er, well…” he stumbled.
   “Cool.” She giggled a playful laugh. “I’ve got a confession to make…” She stepped closer, close enough for him to smell – a sweet perfume, which had previously only teased his nostrils now flooded him. “You see, it’s like this…” Her hands! They played over her body, snaking down her top to ease about the contours of her breasts.
   Nathan’s heart smashed against his ribs. He felt faint.
   She continued, “I’ve had you running through my head all last night, all morning. You’re burning me up, Nathan, getting me so hot…and wet. See…” Her hands came to find his and, slowly, like the vixen he’d imagined her to be, she drifted his hands down between her thighs.
   “God…” Nathan whispered.
   “Yeah…” she gasped back. Then she was kissing him. Her tongue forced itself violently into his mouth, pushing past his teeth and darting about in hard stabs against his own. Nervously, he moved a hand to a breast and cupped it. Heaven felt like Samantha Benedict.
   After a long moment of kissing, she pulled him from her and fed his fingers into her mouth, moaning and watching him in total abandonment. “Come on. I know a place we can go. I want you, I want you right away.”
   She took him, half dragging his stunned feet down the corridor to the door of a locked stationary cupboard. Removing a key from her bag, she opened the door and pushed him inside.

In the dark of the room, Nathan Wyatt’s fantasies came true. It was only the beginning of a long weekend spent between Samantha’s willing thighs.

Monday morning

Samantha was waiting for him when he left home for school that day. She’d never spent long away from him since their first sex on Saturday morning. Seemingly uneasy and restless whenever his mouth was not on her, his hardness not deep inside her, she’d only left him to return home, when their parents would’ve grown worried by the absence and so forcing them to leave the hotel.
   She’d taught him many things about the act of sex in that hotel room, things he’d only read about in the pages of top-shelf magazines or snuck a peek at in hardcore videos he was far too young to have seen. She was his to command: When he said beg, she pleaded to satisfy him. If he said bend, she asked which hole. He couldn’t get enough and she never refused him, never denying him the most perverse of pleasures. It was heaven.
   Today, he would walk into school with the most beautiful creature God had ever created on his arm and smile at his friends - his ex friends as they were no longer to take up any of the valuable time he could be spending with Samantha - as their jaws dropped to the floor in disbelief. Then he’d skip a class or two and let Samantha do things to his body they could only dream of.
   “What in the name of fuck…?”
   Ah, it was that fool Marcus Striper. Nathan had been looking forward to this. “What’s going on, Sam? What the hell you doing on that dick’s arm? Tell me I’m dreaming!”
   “Yeah, you are: if you think I’m ever gonna do anything like this to you again…” She turned and kissed Nathan before Marcus and his astounded teammates, her hands pressing Nathan’s onto her breasts. They stood in shocked silence.
   “What…?” Marcus gibbered. “With him? That geek pervert? No way! Get away from him!”
   Marcus grabbed her and tugged her away from Nathan. She screamed and clawed at his eyes. Blood flowed under her nail’s assault. With a cry, Marcus slapped his hand and she fell to the floor. Then he turned on Nathan. A fist, and then another, beat into him and Nathan felt his jaw crack under the force of a right hook. He fell to the floor next to the screaming Samantha. Marcus lifted his foot to kick the prone boy.
   “What’s going on here?” A teacher, the same man that had been so kind to Nathan during his last beating pushed his way through the throng of stunned children. “Nathan Wyatt, I might have known. You freaking out the girls again, pervert? Jesus, don’t you ever learn?”
   He was cut short by Samantha as she gently touched Nathan’s face, kissing the blood from his nose and swallowing it.
   Nathan grinned up at the teacher.
   “It was Marcus, “Samantha growled, “He punched Nathan for no reason. That bastard’s hurt my man!”
   “Eh…?” The teacher didn’t know where to look. This was weird. But he had to do something. “Okay, Mr. Striper – principal’s office, now!”
   “But sir, that pervert stole my girl…”
   “Like I give a damn; Move, now!”
   “I’ll get you for this, freak. You’re dead!”
   “Move!” The teacher slammed his foot into Striper’s butt, propelling him forward and away.
   After a few moments of stunned silence the crowd moved off, save for Nathan’s friends who stood in absolute disbelief at what they had seen.
   As he shoved past them, Nathan gave them a wink, and moved his hand to Samantha’s behind.

His face ached. The bruising was swollen and blue making his face feel like it’d been in three rounds with a heavyweight boxer; If Striper’s threats were made true this evening, that wouldn’t be far from the truth.
   Inside the school, Nathan told Samantha that she should walk home on her own tonight, just this once, as he was going to run like the wind every step of the way. She’d not agreed, wanting to stay with him and fight in his corner.
   “If he so much as looks at you, I’ll rip his balls off!” She was rabid! She snarled at the thought and flexed her talons.
   “It’s okay. I can out run him…maybe…if I get a head start.”
   “Babe, he’s the school’s number one athlete, he’ll beat you hands down. I’ll take care of it, okay. Just meet me after school by the gates.”
   She kissed him, prising herself off him as the bell sounded, and left. He watched her go – fantastic ass. He’d be inside it again by five o’clock, he promised himself with a smile.
   She was his shadow throughout that day. If he took a piss, she was there, waiting outside for him, asking him if he wanted to slip back inside and take her in one of the booths. She sat on his lap like an obedient puppy during recess, and skipped classes to watch him as he sat in his own lessons, smiling and touching herself in front of any that looked her way. She didn’t care: it was all for him.
   Nathan smiled at her dedication to him, but was this already getting too much? He could hardly walk through the constant sex he was having. Not that he was really complaining…

 The end of day bell sounded, and Nathan ran from his class…into the arms of Marcus and three of his friends.
   “I don’t know what you did to her, you freak, but I swear I’m gonna knock the crap outta you if you don’t stay away from her!”
   “Knock the crap outta the little freak anyway, Marcus, he got it coming!”
   “Do it, man, mess him up!”
   So Marcus did, over and over again.

When Samantha found Nathan, he was almost unconscious. His face was a mess of red, and his lips were like beach balls. Breathing was agony, movement torture, but Samantha managed to get him into the back of a friend’s car that was waiting outside and took him home.
   He’d wanted to be alone that night and reluctantly she’d agreed. She’d phone him later, she promised, to check on his progress. Tomorrow she’d deal with Marcus and his friends, just he wait and see.
   No she wouldn’t, Nathan plotted. He’d see to Marcus and his gang of bastards himself: after another turn on the wishing box.

The box felt alive in his hands this time, as if it’d been waiting for his call.
   Nathan toyed with its faces whilst meditating hard on what he wished for. It warmed under his touch and shuddered under the movements of mechanics hidden within, the golden designs exciting his skin into goosebumps of anticipation.
   He’d give that boy something to remember him by: he’d never, ever, let anyone touch him like that again. He’d become strong, hard, a master of combat with a punch like an iron bar. Marcus would shudder under his fists and his friends, well, they would fall just the same, as would any and all that dared stand in his way again.
   “Make it so.” Nathan whispered, kissing the words onto the surface of the box. “Make me powerful.”
   As his lips touched the box, it’s edges clicked and the tune rang out again. This time, the triangular shape on one of the sides twitched. It revolved slowly, seductively, turning and folding its edges in on itself. Then, with a tremble of life, the triangle opened like a blooming flower.
   There was a dark hole within, and Nathan eased the box closer to peek inside – perhaps there was another level to this puzzle…?
   Blue light shot out from the dark hole and dashed into his eyes. He let the box fall and crawled back, but could not see, the light having blinded him. Swirls of colour formed on the scarred surface of his vision, they danced, merged, and became a face. A face with nails pressed deep into his skull. It smiled.
   “Your wish is my command…Nathan Wyatt.”
   Then it was gone, as was the burning in his eyes. With it also went his wounds: the bruises, the cracked rib, the swelling, and the pain – gone. Where the discomfort of many lost battles had burned, now came power.
   It raced through his veins and bubbled inside the red of his muscles. New strengths crashed his constitution into smithereens of ecstasy and, when he could take no more of the thrill, dropped him into the shell of a new, formidable nervous system. The sensation was so fearsome that it sent him falling dizzily to the floor.
   As he passed out from the intensity of the buzz surging across his synapses, Nathan smiled and licked his lips in anticipation of tomorrow’s sport.

When he awoke, Nathan knew things were going to be much different from then on. His voice had changed, new authority raged behind every word; His body felt like a steel construct, a stallion on heat, impervious to frailty and aching to know arousing physical experiences; His mind…it seemed on fire. He had become!
   Samantha had insisted on a quickie before school. He’d pounded into her from behind with such brutality, such force, that she eventually screamed for him to stop. He didn’t: he kept punishing her, growling like a rabid animal, yanking her hair and whispering foul promises into her ear.
   He felt so alive! A mighty force never to be denied!
   Reluctantly, he pushed her from him and left her panting on the floor of the storeroom where they found such pleasures during school hours.
   It was a pity to leave when he still felt so aroused; however, he had things to do that day.

Marcus was sitting with his three friends on the sport’s track benches, laughing and cussing loudly. Nathan strolled towards them, smiling.
   “Ah, the Three Stooges,” he snapped staring at Marcus’ associates. “So I guess that makes you their bitch, Marcus. Am I right, faggot?”
   Four sets of eyes glared at him in astonishment. Four sets of fists came at him like battering rams.
   Nathan caught the quickest fist and squeezed. Knuckles popped. Shards of bone snapped through the flesh of a hand forcing a long geyser of blood to shower the owner’s face. The boy fell to the floor, screaming like a wounded animal.
   Though horrified at what had just happened, the next lad’s fist was already in motion. Nathan grabbed it and twisted. An arm snapped at the elbow, the wrist, and deep inside the shoulder’s socket. The lad was unconscious from pain before he could feel a boot smash down onto his skull.
   Nathan smiled at Marcus and his final friend…and waved them to attack.
   “What…that’s not possible! What the hell’s wrong with you, you freak!” yelled Marcus, agog.
   “Better a freak than…” Nathan snapped his foot about in a whirling arc of movement that crashed into the last goon’s face. “…Dead!” A skull crushed. Nathan thought it felt like a plastic cup under the wheels of a juggernaut. Nathan thought it felt good. Nathan wanted more.
   He brought his boot into the downed lad’s ribs. The lad flew through the air for a good seven-foot before finally rolling across the benches and falling to the earth in a puddle of blood.
   “Yes!” Nathan screamed.
   “Please, don’t. I beg you. I’m sorry! I won’t touch you again!” Marcus was backing away from the fast approaching Nathan, terrified at the wild animal that now stood before him.
   But Nathan was unrepentant. “I know you won’t Marcus. I know...”

He sat wiping Marcus’ blood from his coat in the hall of the school corridor, when a voice called to him – female...
   He turned – Tammy Styles, one of Samantha’s cheerleading friends. She closed on him, a fist forming.
   He saw it move at his face in slow motion. The blow she’d intended to hit him with crawled through the air at a snail’s pace - slower - plenty of time for him to grab it and swing her about. A painful arm lock was applied, and she screamed.
   “Did you want to see me, Tammy?”
   “Let me go…please!” she begged. But Nathan had other ideas.
He dragged her down the hall and pushed her into the boy’s toilets, where she fell to the floor with a slap.
   “I think I’m gonna show you just what I think of you cheerleading whores…” Nathan’s hands went to his zipper and he pulled it open. “Suck it!”
   “No! Help me –
   Her cries were cut off. Nathan came at her so fast she never saw him move. His hands snatched her hair, forcing her face to his crotch.
   “If you don’t suck me, I’ll smash your fucking face into a bloody pulp, just like I did Marcus and his friends! Now, Suck it!!”
   The pain from Tammy’s pulled hair and the rage behind Nathan’s voice was terrifying. Fearing - knowing - that he’d make good his threats, she opened her mouth.
   “Good girl…”

Nathan was laughing at Tammy as she sat whimpering on the floor of the restrooms, her dress torn, her body bruised and bleeding from her brutal rape, when the door smashed open. It was Samantha. She had a fire axe.
   “You dirty bitch! You wanna fuck my man, huh?” she raged, and charged at the crying girl. “I’ll show you!”
   Tammy raised a hand in protest, but it came away from the rest of her body with Samantha’s first swing. Her bloodcurdling scream echoed down the halls for all of a second, but was cut short by the second swinging of Samantha’s axe.
   The axe did not stop its rise and fall until Tammy was an unrecognisable mass of hacked limbs.
   Nathan eyed the wild girl.
   “It’s okay, honey.” She purred, “I know she forced herself on you, know she was a slut and made you do it. I love you, Nathan. Take me, do me here on the floor in that bitch’s guts.”
   Nathan nodded his head. “Ah, my Samantha.”
   “I love you, you know that, right? Fuck me, make me come!”
   “Samantha...” He grabbed her and pushed her to the wall, lifting her from the floor and hitching up her skirt.
   “Yeah…” she moaned.
   “What the hell…oh my god!”
   A hall monitor’s voice screamed as she slipped in the blood of a cheerleader. She fell, but began to crawl backwards from the room, “No…no…”
   “Yeah!” Nathan grunted, “Scream, bitch!”
   More voices came rushing towards them. The door burst in, and so did three male teachers, one of whom had laughed at Nathan’s suffering.
   “Well, hello there!” laughed Nathan as he threw Samantha to the floor. “I want a word with you…”
   With his member erect and bobbing before him, Nathan grabbed the teacher and snapped his neck in one easy move. The body slipped to the blooded floor. “I guess,” he said to the two remaining teachers, “That means you’re next.”
   Alarms: Police car alarms. Whoever had found the pulverised bodies of Marcus and his friends had called the police. It was only a matter of time before they came for him here. Nathan wondered if his new strength would see him crushing bullets against his skin. He would find out, but not like this.
   Letting the two teachers escape, he grabbed Samantha by the hair and yanked her to her feet.
   “I’m tired of you, girl.”
   “Baby, you don’t mean that. I’ll do anything for you, I swear!”
   “They all will, now I have this power. I’m so strong, can’t you feel it?”
   “Let me…” Her hands found his hardness, but he slapped her face with all his might. She dropped to the floor and did not move.
   Nathan ran to the door and was away, sprinting with impossible speed and fleeing the school before the first policeman had stepped foot in the building.

The police would be a problem. He had to get away from this place, far away, so he could be forgotten. Another wish was in order.
   He’d call for riches, unlimited wealth with which he’d buy his way out of the country and be rid of the authorities forever. He’d live on a private island surrounded by willing women and live the rest of his life in a frenzy of indulgence. Yes, that was an excellent idea!
   In the confines of his room, he went for the box again.
   It leapt into his hands and burned!
Even with his unfeasible strength, the steel scolded his palms and torched his skin forcing a scream from his lungs that stung his ears. At great speed the box’s faces began to turn. They folded, unhinged, and span. They turned and burned, until a large, overly long diamond shape rested fused to his melting palms. The tips at one end of the shape began to peel open.
   Inside the dark hole that Nathan now faced, he could hear the sounds of screaming girls, beaten men; butchered souls all calling his name … Nathan, Nathan, come join us…
   “I wish…I wish…” But the words fell incomplete as pain stabbed into his chest, his arms, his face - his whole body snagged on the hooks of a hundred chains.
   He closed his eyes and yelled until his lungs bled.

Suspended in a reverse cruciform, Nathan’s eyes were blind with pain. His skin was peeled like a ripe fruit, curling from his body in long, pink folds as a thing with nails in its head – the thing from his hallucination – smiled and turned the wheels of a monstrous contraption. It’s gears turned, and Nathan’s flesh tore from his body, a lever was pulled, and thorns of steel scored the soft matter of his manhood, as a drill found work in the depths of its slit.
   “Why…? Why do I suffer this hell?” Nathan cried!
   The creature spoke. “A reason? How does this sit: you operated the box with the blood of dark wishes upon your hands. We felt it. We came.”
   “Please…I never got to…I had one wish left…” the ruined hole that had once been Nathan Wyatt’s mouth drooled. “…I wish…I wish…I wish this would end…”
   The creature turned the wheel again; in the dark cellars of Hell, such a wish would never be granted.