The Cure for Your Ills

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Artwork (c) 2006 by Vitaly

"The Cure for Your Ills." That was the name of the store. Just one of those little places on a downtown street, which may have been booming back in the 1950's, but now was a depository of forlorn hopes and broken dreams. Some small shops were still open, the owners struggling by on faith and bank loans, others were closed and shuttered, a worn and faded "For Lease" sign in the window their only legacy.

But this store was neither, somehow. The outside was crisp and clean, the windows tastefully tinted with curtains on the inside which both totally blocked the insides and yet indicated occupancy. A small "Open" sign in the door further welcomed the visitor.

The cure for your ills. Hmm, I thought as I looked at it. Wonder what the heck this guy was selling anyhow? It put me in mind of a short story I'd read so long ago, one in which the store promised to sell a person what they needed. The owner had a machine that let him peer into the future, if you were about to face a fire in the near future, he'd sell you a fire extinguisher, or something. Anticipation of misfortune.

Probably a fortune teller. Hell, I could find out and back out if it was some fat woman with delusions of gypsy-hood. Maybe this place had the answer to my ills! Hah! As if any place could sell me a fire extinguisher for my problems. An ill-tempered wife who tried to run my life, spent my money faster than I could earn it, and wouldn't give me any pleasures in bed. A job that worked my ass off and didn't pay enough and never gave me any credit for all I did. And now, a no-good brother-in-law who had moved his fat ass into the spare room and was sucking up the rest of my peace and quiet with his interminable watching of the Football Channel and guzzling the beer my wife happily purchased with our food dollars, then compensated by serving meat loaf instead of steak for dinner!

With that so-not-happy frame of mind, I stepped into the shop. Well, no table with a crystal ball on it, no ugly drapes closing off all but a small area, no fat pseudo-gypsy, even. Just a mild-looking elderly man behind a counter, and behind him, what appeared to be a vast number of letters and photos, each in their own frames. The photos held various men and women, all posing with the man behind the counter, all photos taken right inside this very store, and all of them wearing big happy smiles on their faces. Good Lord, that was Jeffrey Chambers, the governor of this state! And the actor, Charles Edmunson Clarke!

"And what may I do for you, sir?"

"Uh...Your sign says you have the cure for what ails me?"

"That is correct. I could explain the mechanism, but suffice it to say for a simple casual consumer that I sell a small but effective service. You tell me your problems, and I will offer you the solution to it. It can be a plan of action, a person to retain to resolve your situation, or simply some cogent advice. My fee in any event is the same, fifty dollars, paid cash in hand after you explain your situation and I tell you I can offer a resolution."

"And if your resolution doesn't work?"

"I will offer a refund, but understand that to qualify, you must first attempt my resolution in all its respects, and explain how it has failed you to our mutual satisfaction. Part of my requirement for your explanation is that you must tell me what you expect to gain from my services. I shall deliver upon that expectation, to the letter, or refund you every dime you have paid me."

I thought this over. Hell, it would be worth fifty bucks just to tell someone all about it, and I did, vehemently and with plenty of embroidered vulgarities to be sure that the man understood the issues. The man stood quietly, listening and making notes from time to time. "And that's where things stand." I said when I finally wound down. "Now what can you give me to resolve all of that?"

"And what do you expect from my services?" the man asked me, the first words he had spoken in all this time.

"I'm not sure." I admitted. "Get my brother-in-law out of there, get my wife to quit wasting my money and stop being a bitch, get my job to give me some respect and maybe a raise."

"I see." The man said. "I cannot offer you a resolution as you ask for. Would you settle for being content with your situation? This may cause some changes along the lines you ask for, but I cannot promise that."

I considered this. The man hadn't asked for money yet. I could always refuse and walk out. So...would general contentment be enough? "I can't imagine being content with all of that going on, but...yeah, I guess that'd be enough."

"Fair enough. I can offer you a resolution. The fee now, if you please."

I reached into my wallet, pulled out three twenties and received a ten in change. "All right. What have you got?"

The man reached under the counter and riffled through a pack of index cards. Selected one and took it out, handed it to me. "This address. Be there at eleven o'clock tonight and ask for a man named Darien. Then do whatever he tells you to. The rest will take care of itself. Come back in one week's time and if you aren't then content with your lot in life, I'll refund your fee."

I pocketed the card and left. I was already late for my lunch, not to mention having just spent most of my week's lunch money, so I picked up a hot dog at a sidewalk cart and walked back to work. Work was the same bitch as it always was, but at least...maybe...things were going to be better now. Those photos had me thinking maybe this guy knew what to do!

Dinner was the usual grotty affair. Abigail ruined it by explaining the bargains she had picked up at the department store that day (all things we didn't need, wouldn't use and couldn't return because they were on sale), her brother eating enough for three men and belching indiscriminately as he quaffed three beers as well, and after, there was only the agony of waiting until it was bedtime. Ten o'clock and I lay beside Abigail until she dropped off to sleep, then cat-footed out, dressed, and made it to the car. Abigail was a sound sleeper, I could count on her staying there in that bed until after I left for work the next day.

The address turned out to be in a rather rough part of town, a bar with motorcycles in front and rough men standing at the bar or playing pool. I looked about, unsure of what to do next.

The bartender settled it. "What'll you have?" He demanded, unfair since I was merely standing in the area just inside the front door, not bellied up at the bar.

"I'm...I'm looking for Darien." I said.

That won me laughs from most of the occupants. "Is he looking for you?"

"I...I got his name from the man at the shop on Cedar Street, called 'The Cure For Your Ills.'" I explained. "I'm supposed to talk to Darien and do whatever he tells me to."

Darien will be here in a few minutes." one of the pool players told me. A biker, with a red bandanna, jeans vest and pants over a black t-shirt, uncombed hair and brushy beard. He had a mean look on his face when he said it. "He'll give you the cure for what ails you, all right." That gained more laughs from the men.

I looked at my watch, it was still five minutes until eleven. I guess Darien got here exactly at eleven o'clock. I ordered a beer and sat and waited, looking about.

Just men in this bar, no women at all. Odd. Then I saw two men in the corner and I realized why there were no women in this bar! "Oh, my God!" I whispered and decided that I didn't want to wait for Darien here after all.

"You Joseph Brenner?" came a gruff voice and I looked up at the biggest man I'd ever seen in my life.

"I'm Joseph Brenner." I said in a voice that came out as a near-whisper.

"Good. Come with me." He demanded.

I felt a brief sense of relief, he was taking me someplace, toward the back of the bar, where a door was, to the outside back parking lot, at a guess. Give me advice, or something, probably. A rough biker, of course, but I'd need the advice of a masculine man to get my life in order. Lessons in assertiveness.

Have you ever heard a person tell themselves so many lies so quickly in your life? The door led not outdoors but to a back room, small, dirty, and with a smelly mattress. I saw that and turned to flee back to the bar (where uproarious laughter was going on) and was grabbed and thrust roughly further into the room, I spun and sprawled face-downwards onto the mattress, landing hard.

"Oh, no, no, no!" I gasped as Darien knelt down over me. I tried to turn over onto my back, at least, but one huge, hairy hand landed on me and held me in place. Then both hands began to yank my clothing from my body. No unfastening of buttons, my jeans were bodily stripped down my hips and I wished mightily I had put a belt on. I hadn't needed one to hold up my pants, but maybe the belt would have hampered him yanking the pants down. Ditto my slip-on shoes, they fell off on their own accord when the pants hit them. Only a t-shirt on my upper body, too, oh, Lord, if I had known I would have bundled up and fastened them all with lock-and-keys!

He had me bare naked in short order, and then released me to work at his own pants. "Please, man, there's been a big mistake here, just let me out of here and I won't even...."

"Shut the fuck up!" Darien snapped at me. "I want you to talk, I'll tell you."

"I don't want you to fuck me." I bleated.

"I said shut the fuck up!" Darien's face was down against mine, I just could see his fierce expression out of the corner of one eye. He was mad at me, dear God, this brute could kill me if he wanted to! I quieted down in sheer self-defense and Darien shifted on top of me and then I felt his manhood pushing at my buttocks. Oh, dear God, he was HUGE!

"No, no, please, God, no!" I moaned as he forced his schlong in between my ass-cheeks, aiming for the tiny tucker between. "I didn't ask for any of this, I swear, I...."

"Shut! Up!" he grunted and those two words were somehow stronger and fiercer than his longer, more obscene orders before. I subsided, whimpering, and he wriggled and his glans found my sphincter. "Ahh, there it is. You ready to get a good, hard, man-plowing, pansy?"

"No...sir!" I said. The honorific seemed to give me some leeway in talking so I went on, "Please, sir, there's been a mistake."

"No mistake. People come in and ask for me, they need a lesson in what it means to be a man's bitch. I'm going to teach you what it's like. Huff!" He shoved at my ass and the glans drove an arc of pain into my bowels. I couldn't tell how much he got into me, but it hurt like hell!

I yelled, I don't mean I groaned, I don't mean I yipped, I mean I out-right yelled! "YE-AHHHHH-GHHH!" Like that.

"Oh, God, shut the fuck up, I told you! Being a bitch means shutting up and taking it, and you're my bitch now, you got it!"

"Yes, sir." I whispered.

"Good, now here comes another one. He shoved again and I knew then how much he'd gotten into me, because the rest of the glans went into me with the second thrust. It felt like he'd shoved a foot or more of cock into me, I later learned he boasted a ten-inch cock!

I bit my arm to muffle the noise I was going to make and that satisfied Darien, because he waited a moment and then shoved at me again. Now the glans was sliding deeper into me, and it still hurt like hell, but with each shove, the pain lessened by some minute amount. A dozen such and the pain went from astonishingly excruciating to merely agonizing, and that ebbed even more as he paused again, now with the entire length of the substantial dong buried in my ass.

"That's a good bitch." He murmured at my ear. "You ready now to feel a real man's cock in your ass? You ready to get a good ass-fucking?"

"Yes, sir." I murmured, hating the words but getting them out anyway.

"That's good." He crooned, and his hips began to move up and down. They were surprisingly supple and smooth, the pain of his cock slid further away. Oh, God, this actually felt good!

"Yeah, damn, that's a sweet ass you got on you. You're getting nice and loose now." he soothed into my ear. "Get your ass up some for me." He moved and put both his arms around my chest, his own chest pressed against my shoulder blades, and his hips were smooth as the motion of the waves on the shore.

"Ohhh, oh, God!" I moaned.

"Mmmm, damn, fine ass you got, bitch. Damned fine ass!"

"Oh, God, oh, God!" I couldn't believe how good this felt!

"You like my cock in your ass, don't you, bitch? Yeah, tell me you like it! Tell me, damn it!" The words were spoken in that same soft crooning tone.

"I like it." I said, and I meant it.

"Tell me again, over and over, tell me you like it!" His hips sped up now, a bit rougher, but my ass was ready for it now. And the feeling of that cock up my butt was doing something strange to me, like my cock's abilities were being passed down inside my ass so my body could still enjoy this! I realized that my body was building up to an orgasm here! Just from being fucked!

"I like it when you fuck me." I told him. "I like it, sir. I like it, a lot."

"Yeah, yeah, come on, bitch, tell me you like it, tell me more, tell me more."

"I love your cock in my ass, sir, I love it when you fuck me, oh, oh, oh!"

"Are you coming, bitch? I didn't tell you you could come!"

"I...I can't help it! I can't help it!"

"Don't you dare come, damn it, bitch! Don't you dare!"

"I can't...can't....OOH, OHH, OH, OH, GUHH-HUH-UH-UHHHHHHH!"

"You bastard, you shit-faced bastard, I, uhhhh, uhhh, GAH-AH-AHHHH-KUH-HUHHHH!"

I was spurting onto the mattress, that filthy, skanky mattress, while Darien filled my butt full of his hot biker spunk. Oh, God, I'd been fucked and I'd come while being fucked! Oh, God! What the hell had I gotten into?

Darien slumped onto me when he finished coming, and his weight was enough to crush me flat in my own exhausted state. He lay on top of me until his own breathing had slid from labored to normal and then he raised up, pressing onto my body to lift himself up, and then he said, "Next time I fuck you, you'd better wait until I tell you that you can come, you got me, shit-head?"

Next time? Next time? "Don't worry." I told him. "There won't be a next time."

Darien was standing, pulling his pants back together again, he had never done more than unfastened his fly and taken out his cock in all of this. "The hell there won't be. You're my bitch, you got me? I fuck you until I feel like stopping, you got me?"

He stalked out and I got dressed and slid out while the bikers in the bar all laughed at my re-appearance. I left to catcalls and obscene comments, but I left and nobody stopped me and at that point, that was all I wanted.

I got home, showered and slid back into bed beside my wife. Oh, God, I'd been such a nitwit! I didn't ever want to do anything that stupid again for the rest of my life.

I thought it was over, honest! But Darien called me at work the next day and told me that he expected me to show up at the bar again that night. I didn't, and got a call at midnight. I hung up on it. A motorcycle roared back and forth past our house the rest of that night.

I got a worse call at work the next day and at lunch, raced back to the shop. The owner looked up at me. "Yes, sir. How are things going so far?"

"You're a complete maniac!" I screamed at him. "You sent me to a biker bar and a big, ugly bastard took me down and fucked me! What kind of shop is this?"

"You wanted to be content with the life you had before." He reminded me. "Once you resolve things with Darien, you'll be content with your life, will you not?"

"Huh?" I considered this blasphemy and then said, "Well...maybe! So help me get rid of him if you can! My God! He wants me to come back to him!"

"Darien's lessons are not for the faint of heart." the man sighed. "But I wish my customers to be happy. I will tell him not to bother you further. But here is his phone number, keep it for the remainder of your week."

"All right, all right." I shoved it into my pocket, and got out of there.

The calls and attentions from Darien stopped. I kept the phone number for him, though I wasn't sure why. And I have to admit...my wife's spending, the brother-in-law's sloth and my boss' anal-retentive instructions, didn't bug me as much as they had before. Nothing like having a hulking brute fuck the crap out of you to put your life in perspective!

Three days later, I had a particularly nasty day on the job and then my wife laid into me the minute I got home. All the old emotions were coming back, and coming back bad! When I went to bed, I looked at how bad my life was. I could get my money back from the shop, of course...but I'd wanted to be content with my life. How was I to be content with this life? God, I just wanting something uncomplicated, something I understood! Something like...Darien?

Not sure of what I was doing, I slipped downstairs and called the phone number. Darien's voice came on the phone. "Yeah?"

"Darien? It's me, Joseph." I said.

A pause, then he laughed. "You ready to come be my bitch again? Be at the bar at eleven o'clock. I'm always there at eleven o'clock at night."

I looked at the clock. Ten fifteen. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Darien hung up and I looked at the clock. Another forty-minutes and the bar was some fifteen minutes away. I just had time to wash up and get dressed before I left.

True to the shop-owner's promise, by the end of the week, I was a changed man. I was calm on the job, polite to my brother-in-law, considerate to my wife. And any time they get to be too much for me, Darien is there to drive me hard and teach me how good it feels to be his bitch. I'd asked for the shop owner to cure all my ills, and all in all, I have to admit that he gave me my money's worth.

I should go in and pose with him for one of his pictures!

THE END
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