Gorgeous wife and wealth

Lazily stretching on the bed and waking up to yet another morning after another party, Kevin slowly opened his eyes. But... something was off. This was nothing like his small, shabby studio on the outskirts, usually cluttered with random junk. Instead, he found himself in a massive bedroom, furnished in a luxurious style: expensive furniture sets, dark wood, golden accents, and a breathtaking view of the coastline through a panoramic window. His head ached, but it didn’t feel like a hangover. It was something else.

— Ugh… what the… — he muttered slowly, but his voice sounded unexpectedly deep and raspy. Kevin froze, listening to himself, and repeated, louder this time:

— Hey… hey, what the hell?!

It wasn’t his voice. Slowly glancing around, Kevin sat up, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. On his wrist, a massive gold watch gleamed—clearly expensive. The fingers he saw before him were strong, with a faint network of veins visible, and once again, they weren’t his hands. He swallowed hard and, with a sinking feeling in his chest, stood up and walked toward the massive mirror on the wall.

The man staring back at him from the mirror was successful, slightly tired-looking, with a hint of gray hair and a neatly trimmed stubble, somewhere around fifty years old. He ran his hand over his face, trying to grasp whether this was some kind of bizarre dream. And then, it hit him: his wish. The one he drunkenly decided to make last night.

— That statue! It was telling the truth! I wasn’t crazy! — he said excitedly, his deep, raspy voice ringing out. Kevin stood there, wide-eyed, staring at the unfamiliar face—or rather, his new face? Yes, he no longer looked like a 20-year-old slacker. Now, he appeared to be a 50-year-old man. And yet, he was pleased with what he saw. He whispered again:

— I’m rich… — The voice was deeper than he was used to, and every shade of the raspy baritone reverberated through his chest. — Truly rich!

Just as he began to wrap his head around becoming someone entirely different, the bedroom door burst open. A woman stood in the doorway, glaring at him angrily. Tall, stunning, and all too familiar—she appeared in many of the photos scattered throughout the bedroom, standing next to this new Kevin. A long-haired blonde with perfect curves and glamorous outfits. In person, standing here in a simple robe, she looked even more beautiful but also… wild, almost unnatural.

Kevin’s mouth fell open as he tried to figure out who she was and why she was so angry.

— What the fuck, sweathart?! And why the hell am I calling you sweetheart, hubby?! — she snapped, grimacing after the words left her lips. Her mouth tightened as if she wanted to spit but couldn’t. She stared at him with burning eyes, clearly choosing her words carefully, though something was holding her back from unleashing a full verbal assault.

— Uh… um… sorry, — he stammered, helplessly spreading his hands. — Who are you again?

The woman jerked as if she’d just heard something unbelievable. Recognition flared in her eyes, and in two steps, she crossed the room, coming uncomfortably close to Kevin. She glared at him, breathing heavily, as if struggling to contain the storm of anger inside her.

— Who am I?! — she hissed, her gaze softening slightly before she abruptly looked away. Her hands trembled with rage, but she gripped the edge of her robe as if holding onto a lifeline. — I’m, like, your fucking wife, Michael. Or have you not even tried to remember anything yet, huh?!

Kevin recoiled as she stared down at her tits, clutching her robe so tightly her knuckles turned white. There was something familiar in her gaze, but where could he have seen her before? However, the moment his mind strained to recall, a kaleidoscope of new memories unfurled before his eyes. Flashes of a life he didn’t know came to life in his head: their wedding—a grand celebration by the coast, morning coffee in bed, long drives in a private limo, sex…

He exhaled sharply, trying to compose himself, and realized that standing before him was Candy Cocklover—his wife, Candy, who he now “knew everything” about. Before their marriage, she had been a porn star, but… something still didn’t feel right.

— Candy, um… — Kevin surprised himself with how confident he sounded. Finally, he managed to form at least one coherent question. — Are you… not in the mood or something?

Candy took a slow breath, barely holding herself together. Her eyes darted about, as if the very idea of speaking to him “softly” disgusted her. Yet, as she looked at him, her eyes narrowed, and she bit her lip, shifting her weight. Her expression was hard to read, but she seemed torn between a fierce urge to lash out at Kevin/Michael and a deep disgust at this strange new wave of emotions. She barely managed to suppress a shiver. "It’s all because of him," she thought bitterly.

— The cave… — she whispered, struggling to speak ill of Michael, unable to understand why, but with each passing moment, her anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by an overwhelming desire. A sudden, intense urge to approach Michael, kiss him, and touch him overtook her thoughts. — What the hell is happening to me… — she muttered through gritted teeth, her face flushing with shame. Her hands trembled, clenched into fists, barely able to stay still. Inside, a whirlwind of mixed emotions, desire, and revulsion churned, leaving her on edge.

— The cave? — Kevin repeated, looking at Candy as if she were crazy, simultaneously mesmerized by her beauty and baffled by the wild glint in her eye. He scratched his head, casually trying to piece together the strange fragments of thoughts and memories.

Candy narrowed her eyes, slowly running her hands over her thighs. She bit her lip and almost hissed, though it came out sounding oddly… seductive:

— You don’t remember me? Perfect. — She took a step closer, intending to slap him, but instead, her trembling hand landed on his chest. The slap she meant to deliver turned into a touch. Candy froze, as if startled by her own actions, and, biting her lip, looked at Kevin. Her palm lingered softly on his chest, barely touching, as if bound to him by invisible strings. She wanted to pull her hand away, but as she moved closer, all her willpower seemed to fade, leaving only an irresistible attraction that she now realized had been seeded by Kevin’s wish.

— You… — she gasped, trying to avert her gaze but unable to. — You don’t understand what you’ve done! I wanted… I was… and now! — Candy’s voice trembled with helpless rage as she tried to withdraw her hand, but the overwhelming desire made her raise it again to touch Michael’s stubbled cheek, gently stroking his face. A smile spread across her lips without her control.

— Are you telling me you’re that old fart who got stuck in the cave with me and wouldn’t stop complaining? — Kevin frowned, trying to reconcile the stunning woman before him with the grumbling businessman they’d talked to at the statue.

Candy bristled at the insult. She wasn’t old—she was man and only 40 and a successful businessman.

...

Those haunting memories of the dark, damp cave flickered before her eyes. A couple of months ago, when a collapse had separated them from the group, that cocky punk she ended up alone with hadn’t taken the situation seriously at all. They both wandered in the darkness, searching for an exit, when they suddenly stumbled upon that strange, creepy statuette, which Kevin promptly pocketed.

During one of their breaks, Kevin lit a joint and pulled out the statuette. But then something strange happened: the statue’s lips slowly parted, and a quiet voice emerged, as if someone was speaking from within the shadows.

— I possess the power to grant your desires, but beware: your fates will be bound forever. One wish, one life, one price, — echoed the deep, eerie voice, filling the cave.

Kevin’s mouth fell open in astonishment. He froze for a moment, then casually threw his hands behind his head.

— Oh, well, if that’s the deal, I’ll bite. I want wealth and… — he paused, turning to his skeptical companion, whose face showed a mix of irritation and disbelief. — A gorgeous wife. Yeah, you know, one of those women who can’t help but want me every time she looks at me. Now that would be sweet!

The quiet voice from the statue added after his wish:

— One speaks for two, but in this case, you must truly desire it.

Kevin’s eyes lit up, and for the rest of the journey, he kept repeating his wish over and over, irritating his reluctant companion more and more, who was convinced this was just a “tourist trap.”

...

Candy could barely restrain herself from wrapping her arms around him, from pressing her lips to his stubbled cheek, though the desire burned inside her like fire. She stood before Kevin—the same cocky, careless punk she still saw him as—and yet, she couldn’t fight the surge of feelings that grew stronger with every passing second. Her hand slowly rose to his chest, clenching and relaxing in uncertainty.

She raised her gaze to his face and felt her heart pound harder, crushing her will. God, it was as if she were being pulled toward him by some invisible force. Why? Why couldn’t she look away, couldn’t step back? This was the same man she’d despised in the cave! She wanted to tear him apart, but every fiber of her being craved the opposite.

— Old fart? — her voice trembled with fury, but as if by magic, instead of a furious shout, her words came out as a near-purring reproach. Candy herself was startled by the tenderness in her voice, as if she were speaking to a beloved lover rather than the man she’d been ready to strangle not long ago.

Kevin stepped back, and the movement was immediately reflected in Candy’s expression—her eyes narrowed, her lips tightened, as though his retreat had deeply upset her. Her hand hung in the air, as if it was still reaching for him.

Kevin looked at her like a picture on a magazine cover, the dream girl he’d always fantasized about—long blonde curls, a half-open robe, enticing curves—she was the embodiment of his teenage fantasies.

— Listen, “darling”… or whatever I’m supposed to call you now, — Kevin awkwardly scratched the back of his head, scrutinizing his “new wife,” who stood before him with a wild gleam in her eyes. — I don’t think I fully get it… Are you saying you’re… that guy from the cave?

— Yeah… I was, — her voice quivered, the unbidden softness slipping into every word. Her face flickered with a storm of emotions—from rage to overwhelming desire. She wanted to snap back, to put this presumptuous young idiot who got her into this situation in his place, but her body seemed to have decided for her. She froze for a moment, as if battling herself, but then her hand suddenly rose and rested on his chest before sliding downward.

Kevin stared at her, dumbfounded. Her fingers trailed down his abdomen as her gaze fixed on his lips, and her expression softened from anger into something far more tender, even passionate.

— Wait… what are you doing? — Kevin froze, watching her in shock.

She bit her lip, trying to speak, but instead of words, her hand drifted lower, down to his hips, until it stopped on his growing erection.

— You still don’t get it, Michael? — her voice was quiet and husky, as if she was barely holding herself back, her face mere inches from his. — It’s your wish… and it seems I can’t do anything about it.

Before he could utter a word, Candy leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Her kiss was fiery, insistent, and her hand moved slowly along his hardened dick while her other arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.