Wish Fulfillment Fantasy
Well, so many of the stories here on Fiction Press are obviously just the author sticking him or herself into a fantasy where everything goes well. A wish fulfillment! Where what you always wanted to happen can happen, will happen, and happen the way it's supposed to!
So maybe I'll write one of these wish fulfillment fantasies. I've been feeling hard done-by lately. I've been feeling sore lately. Maybe I need to have my greatest dreams made true.
But first I need a thinly veiled version of myself. This is easy for me in a slash story, because I am already a guy. My character will be called… Zach. But he's not exactly like me. He likes… birds. Yes. Passionately.
Lately I've been stressed because I don't have much money. Well, Zach will be even harder up than me. He'll be… an orphan… who has to sell his body to survive on the streets. Yeah. I'm not that poor yet.
And I feel ignored and unloved so… he'll be the most ignored. Nobody will know his name. Not even the orphaneers, or whoever runs the orphanage I mean. They are under the mistaken belief that his name is 'Gerald'. And his best friend, Stacy, the sassy drag queen, will think that's also his name.
But that's before the wish comes true. My wish will be… the most magnificent boyfriend. So magnificent. He'll solve my problems just by walking into the room. His smile melts ice and breaks hearts. His hair is made of gold and the tears of virgins. His soul is made of the reincarnated souls of a firefighter, a selfless healer, and a magnificent poet. In fact, maybe he will be a fire-fighter. Yes.
Okay, I think I'm ready to start.
. . .
Zach walked out on the street corner. It was only 7 pm, and he had his torn shirt and fishnet stockings on. His whore-garb, he called it. It's what he needed to do to attract customers, and he needed to sell his body in order to afford to stay at the orphanage. A greasy bald man came up to use his services. "Do with me what you will," Zach said.
It was awful. He never felt more degraded. Afterwards, the man flung $20 on him as he was kicked out of the car they'd done it in. "Keep the change," the man said.
That was the first of seven customers that night. Zach felt worse than nothing. Each one said to him "You are so ugly, but I use you because I don't care. I have so much money I can sleep with cheap, ugly whores for no reason. I don't care."
When no one was watching, a lone tear fell down his face. "One day," he told his abused body, "one day someone will love you, really."
He stumbled into the orphanage while dawn was breaking, so tired and sad he just wanted to collapse, the orphaneer, an old unmarried lady with grey hair and a heart of beeswax, came out of her room. "Gerald? Is that you coming home so late?"
"Yes," he sighed.
"I can't believe you!" She accused. "Staying out late at night, living a terrible life, no doubt! And where's this months rent, Gerald? Where!"
"I'll have it for you tomorrow," he said, so tired. If he gave it to her now, she would just suspect something was up. If she knew about his prostitution, she would throw him out, and then he would be homeless. It would be the worst. He hated the orphanage, but at least it was a roof over his head.
He slept a dreamless sleep.
Then, when he woke up, he had to go to high-school. He was seventeen years old but he was three years behind. He kept failing classes because he couldn't do the homework on the streets. Nobody understood and kept keeping him back. Now he was in classes with fourteen-year-olds who made fun of him and called him names and all thought he was stupid.
"Gerald, what's Pythagoras' theorem?" snapped the teacher.
"I don't know," Zach stuttered. He looked down, ashamed.
"Haha, stupid douche. It's a2 + b2 = c2," said one precocious teenager.
"Thank you. At least we have one student who isn't stupid. Or, more like, twenty-nine," the teacher said. There were thirty students in the class. "Time to go to the principal, Gerald."
Zach slunk out of his chair and went up the hall. He hated seeing the principal.
"Ah, Gerald," said the principal. He was a greasy man with no hair. That's right, he was the client from the day before! "I know what you do. So why don't you do it now to show me you're sorry for whatever it was you did wrong in class?"
The principal took off his pants in one fell swoop. Another daily denigration for Zach.
After school he was back at the house for only a quick meal and a nap before heading out on the streets. He ate a slice of mouldy bread and a rotten fruit. It was his only meal of the day.
That night he slept with thirteen men. An unlucky number – that can't be good. "Honey, you need some good luck," said Stacy, his drag queen friend who also worked the streets.
"Tell me about it," he said. He took another shot of the crack cocaine he was addicted to. It helped him deal with the pain.
"Check it out, Gerald, I think that guy is giving you a look," said Stacey. It was true.
After all that was over, he walked home again. He couldn't afford the bus fare. Luckily, tonight, the old woman wasn't awake to bother him. He just went to bed quietly. He slept dreamlessly again.
But he woke up before his alarm, choking and coughing? What was this? "Ahhh!" he yelled. Everything was very hot. He got up in just his boxers and opened the door. Fire! Lots of fire, burning hot and shooting black smoke into his lungs!
"Cough cough," he said, before collapsing. It was all too much for his weak, malnourished body.
But before he passed out, he felt, warm strong hands pull around him. "Is he dead?" a voice asked.
"No way," came the deep low rumble from the same chest that Zach was held against. "Wake up, we're saving your life," he said.
Zach opened his eyes. There he saw a strong and manly but sweet and boyish face of utter beauty with golden hair and a smile that turned his heart to a puddle in his chest cavity. "I'm Winter. What's your name?"
"I'm Zach," he said.
"Zach," the firefighter said, and smiled even wider (which was impossible). It was the first time someone had called him Zach in ten years.
Winter carried him out of the burning, crumbling house, alongside the other firefighter to whom Zach had not yet been introduced. He saw the charred bodies of the orphaneer and some of the other orphans. He hated the orphaneer but was sad the other orphans had died. He started to cry.
"Don't cry, Zach," said Winter. He held the boy closer. "They were too far gone to save. I'm just glad I found you before it was too late."
Zach quickly passed out in Winter's arms, because they were so comforting and manly and he was all tuckered out. "Winter," said the fire captain, "who's that kid there?"
"An orphan I saved from the house," he said. "I need to get him to the hospital."
"Wll," said the captain," the hospital called. They are all full, no more room left. You'll have to take him home with you."
"Okay," said Winter. That was what firefighters did.
. . .
When Zach woke up it was in a strange and bright house. Bright! He was probably late for school! He assumed he'd fallen asleep at a client's house after sex – it had happened before. He got up quietly – the key in these situations is not to wake up the other guy, because he usually gets mad that you stayed over.
When he bumped into a strange form he was surprised and scared. "Sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. Just let me get out of here, I won't bother you again."
"What are you talking about?" asked Winter. Wait… Zach recognized that voice. The nights events flooded back to him.
"My saviour," he said in recognition.
"Well, that's a bit fancy for me. But you need to get back to bed – you're not healed yet." Winter pushed him back till he was sitting on the bed.
"What about school?" Zach asked, even as he was feeling his burns and knowing he needed to recuperate.
"I called them and told them you weren't able to come. The principal just laughed at me when I said that, I don't know why, but at least you have the green light to stay here and get better."
Zach's face flooded with shame. He didn't want Winter to find out about what happened to him with the principal, or with anyone. He didn't want this nice, magical man to know that side of him.
"Okay," said winter, "Time for your sponge-bath. You're going to have to take off those pants, I'm sorry."
Zach removed his sweat pants (where did they come from?) with embarrassment. Plenty of men had seen him without pants, but this was a whole other thing. When Winter's soft sponge strokes started on his body, he whimpered.
"I have to not show him how arousing this is," he thought to himself. But it was hard. The tender way Winter rolled the sponge down his body was the best thing he'd ever felt. Way better than the rough, callused hands of his clients pawing at him.
"So what do you like to do," Winter asked, his sponge like a mouth kissing down Zach's side.
"Oh," he said, as much to the sponge as to Winter's question. What did he like to do? He couldn't remember. He never had time or money to do what he wanted. "I don't know?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?" laughed Winter.
"I don't know," Zach stated, in answer to both questions.
"Well, we'll just have to find out, won't we?" Winter said. That made Zach happy. Then Winter's sponge got lower. "Hang on, this might be a little embarrassing for you. But you're safe with me, okay?"
"Okay," Zach breathed while Winter cleaned his privates. In years of sex, it was the most sensual thing he'd ever experienced. He only kept an erection away by thinking of sad things, like the other orphans who had died.
"Why don't we go to the movies later? That's something I like to do," said Winter. It took Zach a second to match that comment up to their earlier conversation.
"Yeah, let's go," he said then. Finally, Winter moved on to the legs. Zach breathed a sigh of relief.
So later thant day, they went to the theater. It was so full. There was a new movie coming out – 'Holiday Disaster'. "Which movie do you want to see?" Winter asked.
"I don't care," Zach said.
"No, really?" Winter looked so deep into Zach's eyes he felt like he was looking at his soul.
"Well, I'd like to see that new movie, 'Holiday Disaster'…
"Then that's what we'll see," he said. They bought the ticket and went into the theater. There was a cute gay couple who came in too. Zach wished that was why he and Winter were here, because of a date. But it was just a for fun, friendly activity.
They shared an enormous bucket of popcorn and each had a big big big cup of pop. Zach never bought food at the theater because it was too expensive but Winter didn't mind one bit.
"This holiday," screeched the main woman on the screen, "is a disaster!"
Everyone laughed. It was quite a funny movie. Suddenly Winter swore and reached into his pocket for his phone. Zach was traumatized – Winter never, in the full ten hours they'd known each other, swore. It must be something terribly, horribly important. And it was.
"I'm sorry," he said to Zach. "There's a huge fire going on downtown, and they need me. Here's a key to get into the apartment, okay? Just go back to my place when the movie's done."
"Okay," Zach said, his heart torn up into seventeen discrete pieces. "Just be safe."
Winter smiled affectionately and recklessly. "Of course," he said. He gave Zach a big and manly hug before leaving in a hurry.
Zach tried to enjoy the rest of the movie, but it just wasn't the same without Winter. He sighed. When the credits rolled he realized he really had to pee, after drinking so much pop.
In the bathroom he peed at a urinal. It felt relieving. But once he was done, a hand fell on his shoulder. "I know you," said a voice that Zach recalled as a former client's. "What do you say we hole up in one of these stalls for a minute or two?"
He knew he shouldn't say yes. He was staying with Winter now, and the orphanage was gone. Maybe this was his opportunity to start a new life. But then he thought, what will happen when I'm better? Will Winter kick me out? Or even if he doesn't, will he want me to pay rent? I'll need the money. So he leaned back into the man. "Okay," he said, "do with me as you will."
Afterwards he felt dirty and used, like the condom he had to throw out. He stumbled back to the apartment. Nobody home: so he went to bed.
Zach woke up again disoriented, in a morning house of beautiful colours. Next to him in bed was Winter. But – wait! He was hurt! He was burnt in places, and there were bandages on his arms. "Winter!" he ejaculated.
Winter slowly opened one eye. "What?" he yawned.
"Yeah, it was a pretty tough fire. But we doused it, and saved everybody too." He turned over. "Go back to sleep."
But Zach couldn't go back to sleep now. "Winter, don't do things like that. Don't do such dangerous things. You'll get yourself hurt, and one day maybe killed!"
"If I didn't do things like this," Winter said firmly, "then I wouldn't have met and saved you, would I?"
Zach gulped. "I guess not."
"And I'm glad I did. So you'll just have to life knowing that this is what I do." He closed his eyes again.
Zach thought. What did that mean, he's glad he did? Because he likes me? Like, like that?
. . .
Man, I'm getting tired. This wish-fulfillment stuff is harder than it looks. That part went okay though. But now what?
Do I have them just fall in love? Like that? It would be easy, and fun. But is that what I want? Hmm. Maybe not. Why does my boyfriend character have to be beautiful and successful and popular and my author avatar character have to be lonely and poor and a failure? I know what I'll do.
. . .
After they were both up and about, they had breakfast together. It was delicious. "I have to go to work again today. Why don't you come and see the station? I have some cool friends there."
"Okay," agreed Zach. He was just happy to spend some time with Winter. "Is it busy there?"
"No, we just sit around until someone calls to tell us about a fire. If that happens, then you can stay behind and we'll go."
So they drove to the station. It was in a sweet suburban area, full of trees and cute houses. The kind of neighbourhood Zach wished he'd grown up in.
"This is Carl," Winter said, "he's my best bud. Remember, he helped me get you out of the fire that night?"
"Oh yeah," Zach said. "Nice to meet you for real."
"You too," said Carl, who was very friendly. Winter also introduced Zach to the other firefighters, one of whom was a lady-firefighter.
Suddenly a red flashing light came on and an alarm was ringing. "Time for trouble!" Carl said in a totally badass way.
"You just stay here, okay Zach?" Witner said, giving him that intense look again.
"Okay," Zach said. They left after that. He waited for half an hour, and then an hour. Still nothing. Sighing, Zach left a note on the table. He was just going for a walk. It was boring in there without Winter.
The neighbourhood was just as nice as it looked from the car. Zach breathed the nice air and swung his arms. He fult so young and fresh.
Then he was in a little busier area. He passed people on the street. He had no money for a coffee or something, but he didn't care. Then a man said, "Hey!"
"Uh oh," Zach thought. "Another former client?" But when he turned around it was nobody he knew. "Hello?"
"You," said this man, "you are just perfect. I'm a producer looking for a new pop star. Can you sing?"
"ME?" asked Zach. "No, not one bit."
"Come on, have you even tried? Just sing a little for me. Like, row row row your boat."
"Uh, okay," he said. "Row row row your boat…"
"Stop right there! You're perfect – amazing! You have perfect pitch, and everything! Come right into my studio!" He pulled Zach inside a door nearby.
Zach had perfect pitch, he found out, and just had to hear a song once to repeat it exactly. So in an hour they had recorded a whole album. "Everyone will buy this album," said the producer.
"Really? How do you know?" asked Zach.
"Because you sing better than anybody else in the whole universe, and you have the best good-looks too."
"Really? You think so? For real?" Zach couldn't believe it, not for one second.
"Absolutely. If you were a prostitute I'd pay millions to sleep with you. As it is I would just buy your album for my daughter."
"Sir!" said one of the studio guys, who was a girl. "The song just made it to number one on the charts!"
She turned on the radio, and one of the songs Zach had just recorded was playing. "That was, "Until the Sun Explodes," the lovely ballad by new singer Zach Wingcloud, played by popular demand. Up next, two notes played continually in rapid succession for three minutes!"
"Wingcloud?" Zach asked.
"We thought you needed a snazzy last name," the producer explained. No big deal, thought Zach. At least the whole world knows my real name now. "But!" continued the producer, "how did it get out so quickly? I was at least going to release the album first."
"I'm sorry sir," said the studio guy who was a girl, "I leaked it."
"Well, we all make mistakes sometimes. The important thing is, we need to get Mr. Wingcloud on tour, and fast. Strike before people forget who he is, or get bored."
"The bus is already revved up and ready to go, sir. You better hurry up. It's not good to idle a car needlessly."
"She's right. Let's go."
"Wait!" Zach said. What about Winter? He was going to come back and not know where Zach left to! "I have unfinished business!"
"Nothing we can do about it. Anyways, it's in the contract you signed that we can ship you off wherever we want, whenever we want."
"No!" Zach howled, while he allowed himself to be led to the tour bus.
. . .
"So, Zach Wingcloud," the interviewer asked in a studio in Toronto, "the biggest thing to hit pop music since anything, how has it been?"
"Weird," he answered truthfully. "It was all so fast. Six days ago I was just another guy walking on the street in Vancouver, and now I'm a megastar who can barely go outside without hiding my face or I'll be swarmed with fans."
"That must be something else. What would you say is the major influence on your music?"
"Birds. I like birds."
"I see, very good, very good."
After the interview, Zach collapsed into the bus. "We play Toronto tonight, Ottawa tomorrow, and Montreal the day after," said the producer.
"You mean I play," said Zach. He was resentful. "I wish I was back in Vancouver."
"Really? Is it all so bad?"
"No, it's not so bad. Actually, I love it. And I love you guys too. But there's someone in Vancouver I'm missing…"
"Well it's your birthday soon, right? Turning eighteen? Why don't you spend the day in Vancouver? No appointments, interviews, shows, or anything. A birthday present form us at the label."
"I'd like that," Zach said. It got him through the rest of the stops until then. By the time they'd gotten to Halifax, everyone was just as eager to see the show again in the cities they'd visited already, so they hit up the same cities on the way back. So it was a whole month before he made it back to Vancouver.
By then he was antsy and anxious to see Winter. He would have called but he didn't know his number.
Finally the day came. He was tired after sleeping just four hours – up late playing a show, and then having trouble sleeping he was so nervous. He told the chauffeur to take him to Winter's place. He still knew the address. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. "Okay," he said, "He must be at work."
That cute neighbourhood was just as nice as ever. He waltzed right up to the fire station.
It was the lady-firefighter who opened the door. "Hey," he said, "is Winter here?"
"Winter? No, he hasn't worked here for a while," she said dismissively, and started to close the door.
"Please, tell me where to find him," Zach cried out. "I need to find him!"
Luckily Carl heard him. "Zach," he said, "I see you found time in your busy schedule to drop by." Acid dripped visibly from his tongue.
"I'm sorry I've been away, it's been really crazy," he said. "I really need to see Winter though. Can you tell me where to find him?"
"Yeah, I can tell you where to find him," said Carl. "The hospital. Just go there and ask."
"What – ?" but Carl had already closed the door on his face. "Hospital next," he said to the chauffeur, grimacing.
The front desk man was not being very helpful. "Winter who?" he asked. "I can't just tell you who's here. If you don't even know the last name of the person you're trying to see you better go find it out."
"Please," Zach begged. But he saw that was going nowhere. So he swallowed carefully and glanced around – nobody in the lobby. "If you let me know," he said slowly, pulling his loose collar down to show one shoulder, "I can make it worth your while."
The secretary's eyes widened, and minutes later Zach was letting someone violate him for the first time since becoming an international pop sensation. But, he gritted his teeth and thought, it was worth it if it would get him Winter.
And after that the secretary was much pleasanter to him. "Luckily for you there is only one person with the first or last name of Winter, and that is Winter Dawn, in room 36B on the second floor. Thanks bye."
Zach flew down the corridors looking for the right room. Then he took the stairs up to the second floor, and flew down those corridors. At last he found it.
He burst through in exalted worry. "Winter!" he cried.
"…Zach?" he heard croaked from somewhere behind a curtain. Zach ran over and flung the curtain open, and there was Winter.
But he was only a shadow of the glowing creature that had stolen Zach's heart, his flesh sallow and sickly, his hair drooping and sad, lying in a hospital gown.
"Winter, I'm so glad I found you," he shouted, sitting in the chair next to the bed. "I looked everywhere and I couldn't find you. I'm so glad, so glad."
"Zach…" he croaked. He looked sad but a little happy.
"Winter, are you okay? What are you here for?"
Winter's eyes turned down in embarrassment or shame, or both.
"Please, tell me, I won't be afraid."
Winter held his bandaged arms up.
"Oh, you poor thing. Did you get into an injury during a fire rescue?"
"No," Winter said mournfully. "At this point they'd already fired me."
"!" Zach said.
"Yes, they fired me for becoming nothing more than a useless drunk." His eyes were still cast low.
"I tried to kill myself, Zach." Zach gasped. "Don't be like that. I'm ashamed of myself."
"But why? Why would you do such a thing?" Zach was nearly crying at the idea that Winter could be dead.
"I don't want to talk about it," Winter said stubbornly.
"Okay," Zach said. He scooched forward to grasp Winter's hand. "I just want you to know… my life has been amazing lately but… it hasn't been as good as it could be. Because I didn't have you by my side. Winter, this might be totally out of line, but I'm passionately in love with you and I'd be very grateful if you came with me and were my boyfriend."
Zach had been looking down afraid of rejection, but when he didn't hear anything he looked up. Winter was crying! "Winter, don't cry. I'm sorry," he said, trying to wipe away the tears.
"No," Winter said. "Do you want to know why I tried to kill myself, why I became an alcoholic? Because you were gone. I never thought I needed someone in my life like that, but when you came along I knew, here was someone I could spend the rest of my life with. And then, gone, all gone, and I didn't know why. Then you show up on the radio and in music videos, the world's darling, and I thought, how could I have hoped he could like me back? The world can see how amazing he is, he doesn't need me."
"No, that's not true," Zach said, surging forward. "You were the first person to treat me like I mattered, and I'll never forget that. And more than that, I've never met in my life someone so beautiful, so brave, so strong, so true, and I was sad and unhappy without you, no matter how much the world acclaimed me. All I want is you."
"Well, you can have me, if that's what you really want. I don't know what worth there is in me but…" Winter took a deep breath in, "you can do with me as you will."
. . .
Well, didn't that work out nice. I even managed to get in that bird thing. I can loudly say, without reservation, that this wish has been fulfilled. More than fulfilled – overfilled. Now I know why everybody else does it, too. It's so fun.
Oh Zach, you got what you really wanted. And you're on top of the world. Nothing can stop you.
I'm sure you all will laugh at this silly story, as I have. But know that there is an equal part of tenderness as there is laughter here, that I really have opened up what hurts and turned it into a silly and fun game. So don't laugh at those silly wish-fulfillment stories you see here on Fiction Press – they may be silly and dopey and totally unaware, but they are the tenderest parts of people. And maybe one day these writers will be able to write bigger better things, but this is where they've started, and it isn't such a bad place at all.
I just want to cry and give everyone a hug. Oh, you guys. C'mere.