Inflictions

by John McIlveen

  “I didn’t fly. I’m afraid of heights.”

  “Don’t you have a spaceship, like a flying saucer?”

  “What is this fixation with spaceships? Did I say anything about spaceships? We use our minds!” Max said, jabbing his finger against his forehead, appearing to lack that which he emphasized. “We travel here using our coconuts. We draw an image in our mind of where we want to be and Shazam, it forms a portal and we’re there. Like this.”

  Max disappeared from the couch, instantly reforming on the easy chair.

  “How’d you do that?”

  “How the hell do I know? It’s a learned process to us, like language, but it earns killer frequent flyer miles.” He took a sip from the beer and continued. “I had to get away. My mate turned tramp and cheated on me, having psi-sex with my boss. Yeah, I caught them! I told them I didn’t like it, so he fired me after beating the crap out of me. And then she beat me up and left me.” He held out his hand. “Could I have another bottle of strychnine please, I’m getting mellow.”

  Psi-sex? Kelly wondered what it was, but didn’t pursue it. It could turn into one of those uncomfortable TMI situations, and she had already received more than enough information. Kelly handed him another bottle.

  “So you came here,” she said.

  “So I came here,” he agreed. “And do you know what I found?”

  “Jerks?”

  “Yes, god-damn it!” Max threw his arms up in disgust. “I tell yez, Edith, them-there jerks, their everweeyas.”

  “Doncha know it, Ahchiee,” said Kelly.

  “Not bad.” Max nodded his approval.

  “Thank you. How long did it take you to find out Earthlings were jerks, too?”

  “About five minutes.”

  “That long, huh?” Kelly took another slug of beer.

  “I figured it’d be wise to arrive in the most inconspicuous manner, so I decided to make it New York City. I thought I’d be safe in the crowd,” He explained. “Safety in numbers, you know?”

  “And?”

  “I had no idea you kooks wore clothes!”

  Kelly sputtered beer and erupted into gales of laughter.

  “Go ahead and laugh! I was behind bars in minutes!”

  “I bet. What did they charge you with?”

  “Vagrancy, resisting arrest, indecent exposure, assaulting an officer …”

  “Assaulting an officer?

  “I was scared. I zapped him!”

  “With what?”

  “This,” he said holding up a long index finger. “I stunned him with it.”

  “How?”

  “It’s all in the mind, but they didn’t think so. You should see where they searched me for a weapon!” Max held up the same finger. “One of these can feel like a telephone pole! Have you ever had something like this jabbed up your ass?”

  Kelly blushed.

  “Never mind,” said Max. “Anyway, I was put in a cell with four men who looked like the cast from this movie I saw … Deliverance?”

  “I’ve seen it,” Kelly said. She covered her smile with her hand.

  “So I figured it wasn’t bad; a roof over my head and people to talk to, even though we couldn’t understand each other.” He emptied the bottle and set it on the end table.

  “Lenny kept saying he wanted to be my wife,” Max continued. “At the time I didn’t know what he meant, but I learned quickly when he tried to show me. He wanted to fertilize my anus.”

  Kelly exploded into unrestrained laughter.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Immensely,” she admitted. “Go on, please!”

  Max sighed and resumed. “I already had enough pushed inside me for one day, thank you, so I knew I had to get out of there. I was still getting over one relationship; I was in no state of mind to start another.” He looked at Kelly who still tried to muffle her laughter.

  “So, how’d you get out?” she asked.

  “Same way as usual—I thought myself out. They had given me some decent clothing that didn’t feel all that bad, so I thought it’d be okay. Guess what?”

  “Jerks?”

  “Yup! You should have seen them! It was like the numbers over my left pocket glowed, the way everyone kept staring at them. How was I to know …” he paused. “You’re laughing again!”

  “Mmm-mmm,” said Kelly, shaking her head in denial.

  Max sighed and continued. “I knew I had to get rid of the numbers. I saw a man standing behind a large glass window who looked just about my size. I took his jacket since he wasn’t moving. I knew he wouldn’t put up a fight.”

  “You mugged a mannequin?”

  “Freakin’-A right, I did. With my new duds I was able to watch people go about their daily business. I tried to imitate their ways so I could fit in, and guess what?”

  “Jerks!”

  “Righto!”

  “I suppose your looks didn’t help,” Kelly said.

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong with my looks?”

  “Well, with all due respect, by our standards you’re kind of ugly,” she explained. “And those teeth!”

  “I can assure you that your name wouldn’t be gracing any trophies where I come from either,” Max said.

  As he spoke, Kelly watched his teeth shrink back until they were the epitome of dental excellence. So white and perfectly even, they would have made an orthodontist weak-kneed with envy. As she stared at Max, an idea blossomed.

  “Oh dear, we’re in trouble … she’s thinking.”

  Kelly jumped up with a squeal of excitement, dashed into the bedroom, and quickly returned toting a magazine. “Okay, you weirdo,” she said, “can you do this?”

  “Can I do what?” asked Max, as he stood.

  “This!” Kelly pointed.

  “Jake Gyllenhaal? Why would I want to do Jake Gyllenhaal? He’s really not my type.”

  “No! Can you make yourself look like him?”

  “I know what you meant. I think I look fine the way I am, but if you insist.”

  Max studied the image for a few seconds while Kelly sat on the couch, waiting eagerly. His body began changing again. His legs shortened, thickened, and toned, his chest expanded, his shoulders broadened, his biceps bulged, and his hair grew thicker and longer.

  Kelly gazed at the finished product, short-breathed and delighted. She scanned from his face down. “There!” she said. “Now that’s a whole lot better than a buck-toothed Pee Wee Herm …” She stopped and rolled her eyes.

  “I’m willing to set wagers Mr. Gyllenhaal has a little more to offer than that!” She nodded to the minuscule nub of flesh between Max’s legs.

  “So picky!” Max huffed. His member grew and extended, thick as a forearm and hanging mere inches from the floor.

  “Whoa!” Kelly gasped, shocked. “Hang on there, stretch. Let’s keep it in proportion. That thing is lethal!”

  The dangling pillar retracted.

  “There,” said Max, “six-and-a-half inches, which is considered average according to Cosmopolitan magazine.”

  Kelly inspected it as if picking a diamond. “Maybe a little bigger,” she said holding two fingers about an inch apart.

  “Seven,” said Max.

  Kelly moved her fingers apart.

  “Eight,” said Max.

  The fingers moved more.

  “Nine.”

  “Perfect,” said Kelly, awarding him an okay sign and then two thumbs up.

  “Thank you, Roger Ebert,” Max said. He grabbed the last beer from the end table. “We never put much significance in the size of the baby-maker. As long as it did the job, who cares? Before the great exile, we didn’t even use these.”

  “Then how …” Kelly started to ask.

  “Asexual, remember? What you have here is a biophysical shift, most likely a defiant act started by Hadim and Yeaf, and unique to here … Earth.”

  Kelly looked at him as if he had just grown legs from his head. “You don’t use t
hem on Dickhead? What about all the other species on Earth that procreate in the same way?” Kelly asked.

  “Ndykhend,” corrected Max. “And, of course we use them since the change, but the size makes no difference. I can assure you you’ll never hear a cat or even hamsters complain that their man is too big or small … only humans.”

  “But you can’t do a good job if the tool’s too small,” Kelly said.

  Max shrugged and shook his head.

  “More measure for the pleasure?” she tried again.

  “I’ve heard that, but what does it have to do with pleasure?”

  “Are you demented? How about for pleasure during intimacy?” asked Kelly.

  “With this?” he pointed to his crotch. “No. We just plug it in, think about fertilization, and boom … done!”

  “No intimacy? No feelings in love?”

  “Of course! We use our minds.”

  “You don’t touch?”

  “We do,” said Max, sounding a little defensive.

  “How?”

  “Like this,” he said and pressed the palm of his hand against Kelly’s cheek.

  Kelly’s body stiffened and her legs shot out as straight as lamp posts, as if they had become marble. She stayed that way for about thirty seconds and then practically melted, flowing onto the floor like Mrs. Butterworth’s best.

  “Oh my god … oh my god … oh my … FUCKING GOD!” she gasped.

  Dazed, Kelly lay on the floor, her body trembling as she tried to catch her breath. She turned her hazy eyes on Max, and with a feline stretch, she climbed back on the couch, lay back, and stared dreamily toward the ceiling, but seeing nothing.

  “Grrrrmmmm,” she said in a low, throaty murmur.

  “I’m sorry,” said Max, “I won’t do it anymore.”

  “If you don’t do it again,” Kelly purred, “I’ll kill you.”

  “Okay.” Max touched her cheek again.

  “Oh my god … oh my god … oh my god …”

  “Again?” Max offered, shortly after she re-recovered.

  “No!” Kelly sat up as fast as her numbed body would allow. She felt like she should be smoking a cigarette. Hell, the town should be smoking after that! “Right now, another one of those would probably kill me. I’d implode like a one-hundred-twenty-pound kernel of popcorn.”

  Max eyed Kelly carefully, picked her up from the couch, and set her back down. “One hundred thirty-three,” he corrected.

  “Well la-de-da,” Kelly said. She sat up, feeling as if she had squeezed a sopping sponge between her legs. Her stomach exclaimed its hunger with a boisterous and guttural oy-yoy-yoy-yoy. “Are you hungry?” she asked Max.

  “Do aliens land in New York? Do dogs talk?”

  “Okay, I gotcha.” She stood up, smiling seductively and said, “Once my legs work again, it’s my turn to treat. I know a good restaurant nearby.

  “Let me clean up and get into something more appropriate,” she said. She looked admiringly at Max. “We’ll have to get you some clothes, too, though it’s a shame to cover you up … now. My father has some in his closet; not exactly trendy, but acceptable.”

  7

  They ate at The Bull’s-Eye, a local grill that served smoked meats of every tempting array. They dined on baby back ribs, pork medallions, sirloin tips, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob soaked in enough butter to clog Boston’s Central Artery.

  High on too many margaritas, they exchanged quips and giggles, and later walked to a nearby plaza of outlet stores to wear off their buzz. They stopped at a small clothing shop that catered to the tastes of college-aged kids, and had prices that matched their tuitions. Kelly selected some clothing for Max to try on, and they were soon looking at a new Max in a full-length mirror. He looked like an anemic, wealthy brat.

  “You need some sun there, oh pale and pasty one,” Kelly said.

  In the blink of an eye, Max was four shades darker, looking like the latest Latino heartthrob.

  “Wow, beats the hell out of tanning beds,” Kelly whispered. “The money I’d save if I could do that.”

  Max placed a finger on Kelly’s arm. She felt a rush of heat spread over her body. Max pointed to the mirror. Kelly had a Rio de Janeiro tan.

  “No way! How? You can change me, too?” asked Kelly. She wasn’t especially comfortable with this revelation.

  “Like I said,” he pointed to his temple. “It’s all right here. Just know you can do it, and you can.” Max grinned and laid his hand on her shoulder. Kelly felt warm stirrings in her abdomen starting to build.

  “Oh, no, you don’t! Not here!” she said, though she would have loved it. It was both surreal and frightening, knowing someone had such power over her. She felt a heightened sense of vulnerability that wasn’t entirely pleasant.

  “I can sense your fear but I cannot do anything to you, unless you are accepting to it, and your trust opens you to it,” Max said. “There’s a bittersweet truth to all of this. Your enemies cannot harm you if you are not open and accepting to them, but on the flipside, the ones you know, love, and trust, have free reign. No one can beat the shit out of you like your loved ones.”

  Kelly looked at Max and sighed. “I guess that’s the rule everywhere.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Max. “Which brings to mind … back at the cabin … about your willingness to be touched?” He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Are you that accessible to all men?” he teased.

  “Are you implying I’m easy?”

  “As Uncle Ben’s.”

  Kelly gave him a quick jab to the ribs and Max tapped her with a finger.

  “What was that? Was that supposed to hurt, tough guy?” she teased. Max pointed to the mirror. A woman with rich mahogany skin stared back at them.

  “Oh God, Max! I look like Tina Turner! Quick, change me back before someone sees!”

  Tap.

  “Very funny!” said Kelly, looking at her curiously green-skinned doppelganger. “Wicked, I am not.”

  Tap.

  “Thank you, I think,” Kelly said, checking herself in the mirror for cat ears, or perhaps a tail. She leered at Max.

  “All back to normal. Promise,” he assured her.

  She shot him another dubious glance, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Let’s go food shopping,” she said.

  “Okay,” said Max. He tapped Kelly’s shoulder.

  “Stop it!”

  “Just kidding.”

  Kelly wasn’t sure what Max’s plans were, but considering his newly acquired looks, and that all-too-amazing ability, she had an idea on how she would like to plan her time at the cabin. She loaded their carriage with enough food, beer, and toiletries to support two hermits for just about two weeks.

  8

  Kelly and Max arrived back at the cabin just after eleven that night. They carried in the groceries and Max showered while Kelly found a home for all the goods.

  Max emerged naked from the bathroom, the water beaded and flowing in rivulets from him. Kelly just looked at him.

  “What?” asked Max.

  Kelly had never made love on the first date, but she had screwed quite a few times and this wasn’t going to be one of them. Fresh off a bad breakup, she was in no hurry to recommit to anyone. Sometimes sensibility overpowered senses and for good reason. Max would be a lot to get used to, and a lot to conform to.

  Now, blowjobs were different, Kelly thought. They were non-committal. Hell, they weren’t even sex, after all. If things turned out bad, a little Listerine and neither of them would be any worse for wear. Besides, if she decided he was worth keeping, nothing kept them coming back like a little lip service. Heck, swallow once, and they become your royal subjects, loyal like … well, just like dogs.

  Kelly led him to the master bedroom, groceries be damned. She was intent on teaching him something long forgotten on his planet. Besides, he looked too damn good to worry about morals.

  At first, Max regarded what she did with shock—not that he hadn’t heard about it, but
that he’d never been the recipient. He soon mellowed and Kelly could see that telltale faraway look in his eyes. At that point, Kelly figured Max wouldn’t have noticed a sledgehammer bouncing off his forehead. She watched his face as he looked back at her from within a haze. She shook her head when he tried to touch her.

  “I’ll tell you when,” she instructed, and watched for the signs.

  Max’s eyes widened, his body tensed, and his hands clenched in her hair.

  “Now,” purred Kelly. Max’s hands pressed to her face.

  “Oh my god … oh my god … oh my god …” said Max.

  “Oh my god … oh my god … ohmaafgowg …” said Kelly.

  9

  A rerun of F-Troop flickered across the screen of the old Sylvania television, causing specters of light to dance across the walls and furniture. Kelly had the latest Alice Hoffman novel face-down on her lap. She tried reading the first few paragraphs maybe four times, retaining nothing. Her hyperactive mind was not in reading mode.

  “Why a dog?” she asked.

  “Hmmm?” Max lay sprawled across the couch, one leg on the back of the couch and both arms behind his head.

  Kelly got up and sat on the floor near the couch. “Why did you decide to be a dog?”

  “Because warthogs are so damn ugly,” he said. Kelly punched him playfully in the ribs.

  “Whoa! Okay, I’ll tell you. Better yet, I’ll show you.” He laid the flat of his palm on Kelly’s forehead.

  Trees and grass appear. People walk past, some looking at her a bit oddly.

  “My God, we’re in Central Park,” gasped Kelly.

  “Actually you’re in my memory,” Max explained.

  A family sits beneath the trees, happiness and harmony surrounding them. A dog—a little disgusting thing that looks like an overstuffed, spastic turd on legs—anxiously hops around a young boy, twitching, and waiting for him to throw a red ball. A cute girl with corn-silk hair falls to the ground grabbing the dog and rolls over. She is rewarded with a barrage of sloppy kisses and reimburses the dog with her laughter.

  “I understand,” said Kelly. She could practically feel Max’s longing.

  “I saw my first dog in Central Park. I saw how the people treated it. They loved it, fed it, played with it, and all they expected in return was for it to shake its ass, rub a few snots on them, and mindlessly come when they called it. I figured it would be the ideal situation: sit around, act stupid, and get room and board for it. I also thought it would be a good, unobserved way to learn the language and certain mannerisms, the things I’d need to know to get me by.”