Salt Lake City, Utah
The thing was gaudy.
Reverend Snowden White stared at the mirror that came wrapped in the UPS package. According to the note inside the box, it was his inheritance from a distant relative who passed away that he had never met. Obviously, this person had no taste. He observed the ornate detail of its bronze frame from the tarnished design of the rose thorn edges to the protruding overlapping metal structure surrounding the interior of the surface. Simply put, it was the most hideous thing he had ever seen. Placing the large mirror on top of the end table in the foyer of his condo, he leaned it against the wall to glance at his reflection.
At 48, Snowden considered himself to be a prized catch. Any woman would be lucky enough to have him. From his ivory skin that was covered in hair, his black mane that now was receding, piercing indigo eyes that looked more brown than blue, and zaftig belly he believed all women would lose their self control over him. He just could not comprehend why he had so much trouble finding a date. Even his profile on E-Harmony Match.com yielded even less results. He just did not understand why.
The only thing he could theorize was that he was Mormon. A Fundamentalist Mormon to be precise who believed in the ideology of polygamy. He did not see what the big deal was. The fact that you can fuck multiple sister wives was every man's fantasy. Apparently, the religious compound he had been staying at did not agree with his views and kicked him out after discovering internet porn on his laptop. Snowden got his revenge though. He tipped off the FBI causing a massive raid of the joint over alleged child sexual abuse charges by its Mormon leaders. See karma can be bitch.
Well for Snowden White, this was a chance for him to start over. He would find a woman to marry, start a family, and add more sisters wives into his cult. The plan was foolproof except for the fact that no female would date him. What was wrong with them?
He peered in the reflective surface of mirror analyzing the possible reasons. Then out of the blue something possessed him to chant the following:
Mirror, Mirror on the wall.
What am I single after all?
A soft echo of chimes filled the room of his condo. The reflective surface shimmered revealing a Middle Eastern gentleman with a shaved head except for pony tail wearing pink Arabic clothing. Snowden stepped back astonished.
"What the hell?" he asked.
"Oh shit, it's you!" snorted the strange man in the mirror. "Okay, let's get on with this. I'm the faaaaabulous cursed genie of the mirror ready to grant the bearer one wish and one wish only. So hurry up bud, I'm gonna be late for the White Party on Fire Island."
"Uh...uh...am I dreaming?" Snowden scratched the bald spot of his head.
"No buddy, you're not." The genie clucked. "Jeez, didn't anyone tell you what you inherited?"
"Oh fuck me with a dildo!" The genie's voice dripped with sarcasm. "What's your name?"
"Snowden...Reverend Snowden White of the Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints."
"Shazzam all might!" bellowed the genie. "A fucking Mormon reverend! I figured as much. Okay look here Rev. White, you're related to the legendary fairy tale character Snow White as in Snow White and the Seven Drawfs. Hell, you're even named after her. Yeah, that bitch is real so is the apple and the Wicked Queen. Here's the real story the virginal Snow White ain't no virgin and she gangbanged all the drawfs she was living with. Her cougar mom, the Wicked Queen, got jealous that her daughter was having multiple orgasms so she poisoned her with an apple and the rest of the story continues with Snow White living happily ever after blah blah blah."
"What does that have to do with me?" asked Snowden.
"I was getting to that dumbass!" The genie snapped. "As you know the Wicked Queen got killed in an auto-erotic asphyxiation gone wrong but before she died she cursed her magic mirror to grant wishes to any member of Snow White's family. Thus, you now have inherited the mirror pal and you're stuck with this legacy."
"All right if what you're saying is true," said Snowden. "Then I must be the luckiest guy in the world. So what do I do to get my wishes granted."
"Wish," corrected the genie. "Not wishes. You only get one wish. The only stipulation is that you can't wish for more wishes or for wealth."
"What kind of sucky option is that if you can't wish for more wishes or wealth?" asked Snowden.
"Look moron!" shouted the genie. "My magic is fucked up. Bad things happen when I grant wishes. You have to be careful what you wish for or you might end up dead. Wish for money and you'll be smothered to death in a pile of bills and coins. Wish for amazing weather and a tornado comes in drops a house on you. Wish to be Prom Queen and the next thing you know you're covered in pigs blood in a high school gym burning up your classmates with your latent telekinetic powers. And don't get me started on a cousin of yours that wished to write the next great American novel."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"The plot revolved around a supernatural love triangle between a teenage steroid pumping werewolf, an emo girl, and pasty Englishman passing himself off as an American vampire who glitters in the sunlight."
"Holy shit! That's awful!" exclaimed a shocked Snowden.
"You're telling me," replied the genie. "That whole books series, films, and merchandising rights sold billions to the tween market. Thereby, ruining the brain cells of future generations to come. Anyway, you got your wish ready? I need to get to the salon for a manicure and pedicure."
Snowden let the wheels in his head turn for a moment. Finally, an idea came to him.
"Genie, since I'm related to Snow White," he began. "How about if I wish for my own version of the seven drawfs?"
"Seriously, you want to wish for seven drawfs?" asked the genie rolling his eyes. "Excuse me, I mean seven little people. Drawfs and midgets are political incorrect to say in this day and age."
"No, no I mean how about I wish for seven wives?" Snowden emphasized. "I mean I am a Fundamentalist Mormon and I can start my own compound complete with my own set of Sister Wives. Okay I genie I wish for Seven Wives."
"Okay buddy, it's your wish!" The genie drolled. He waved his hands from inside the mirror sending a series of flashing lights bouncing off the walls of the condo. "Abracadabra. Hocus Pocus. And some shit like that!"
The lights vanished. Snowden rubbed his hands in glee in anticipation. Seven wives to fuck. His wish had come true.
"My work is done." The genie informed him. " Wives one through seven should be coming out of the bedroom any minute now. Good luck. You'll need it."
With that the genie and the magic mirror disappeared. Snowden put his hands in his pockets and waited by the foyer. The first door to his bedroom opened and Wife Number One entered dressed in a halter top, leather mini skirt, fishnet stalkings, high heels, and wearing a blonde wig. Oh boy!
"Oh you're home," Wife Number One sneered. "Let's get on with this."
She kneeled in front of him to unzip the trousers of his pants. Snowden could not believe that she was doing this. He closed his eyes as she allowed her to continue. He felt the elastic of his boxer shorts lower down holding his small erect cock grazed the sides of the metallic zipper of his pants. Then he felt her mouth wetting him. Her tongue rolling around the head of his prick tickling the back her throat as she raised and lowered her head around his hard dick. Cute slurping and humming sounds came from her mouth while she swallowed him leaving him to close to ecstasy. He felt his inside building as he continued to pump his hips into her lips almost reaching full climax. Then she stopped.
"Okay pal, if you want to cum on my face it ill cost you $20." She told him.
"What?!" asked a shocked Snowden.
She got up off the floor. "If you want to finish. It's $20 to shoot in my face. $30 to cum in mouth. $10 for a handjob."
"You're a hooker?" Snowden asked her. His dick grew limp.
"Of course, I'm the main wife." She explained. "I'm the breadwinner around here remember since you got kicked out of the Mormon compound. This bitch has gotta get paid. The name is Sleazy."
He rapidly zipped himself up. "But I wished for wife not a prostitute."
"Well you got one fucker!" She yelled at him. "Now move! I'm gonna late for work. If you need me, ask for me on the corner of 400 West Market. I'll either be with a john or talking to my pimp Leon. Just don't piss Leon or he'll cut you! Oh and if you see a genital wart on your dick head down to the free clinic and they'll shoot you up some penicillin. I know mine cleared up." Sleazy pranced out the front door and shut it behind her.
Snowden could not believe what was happening. Two women, Wives Two and Three, entered from his bedroom. Wife Two, looked cute wearing a simple floral dress and hair tied in a bun, while Wife Three wore a frayed house dress and was 350 pounds overweight.
"Sorry honey but I'm not in the mood for sex today I've got a headache," said Wife Three chowing down on a sandwich from inside her bra. "Besides I want to catch the Real Housewives marathon on Bravo. If you need me I'll be in our bedroom. Just ask for Frumpy."
"Same here but my colitis is acting up..." added Wife Two. A brown streak dripped from behind the back of her dress creating a smelly dark, foul stain finally forming into a disgusting puddle at her feet.
"Oh no I'm shitting again!" Wife Two shrieked. She ran to the bathroom leaving behind a trail of brown residue where she stood.
Frumpy held her nose while Snowden tried to hold the urge to regurgitate. "They don't call her Crappy for nothin." Frumpy excused herself and disappeared into their bedroom. As Snowden tried to make sense of all this, another female rushed out of the kitchen carrying a microwave. Snowden watched her trying to sneak out the front door.
"What do you think you are doing?" He grilled her.
The disheveled woman shook nervously as she tried to explain herself. Snowden glanced at her in disgust. Her hair was a ratted mess, open sores appeared on her skin, her eyes looked sunken and swollen, and she was missing some teeth.
"Oh you know baby," she cooed. "I'm just doing my part with helping with paying the bills. I am Wife Number Four. They call me Dopefiend cause you know I have this habit of injecting needles and smoking crack. By the way baby, do you have five dollars I could you know borrow? My dealer said he'll give me extra good stuff and I can share with you."
"Get out!" shouted Snowden.
Dopefiend ran out with the microwave before Snowden could stop her but suddenly the smell of the foulest, rotten eggs permeated the room. Wife Number Five came out carrying a can of air freshner.
"Sorry for the smell," she apologized. "I have this really bad intestinal gastrinitis syndrome that causes me me to have bad flatulence. My name is Breezy because of the fact that when I break wind it nearly kills everything in sight. Oh no. Here's come another one..."
Breezy let one rip causing Snowden's eyes and lungs to burn. He coughed excessively until the aroma became so unbearable he passed out. When he came to, he found himself nakedly chained and manacled to a wooden rack. Fear overtook him as he struggled with his bonds. A sharp crack hit the floor forcing him to stare at a semi-nude redheaded woman wearing a latex corset, stiletto boots, and brandishing a leather whip.
"Wake up! You worm!" she hissed. "I am Wife Number Six! The name is Lashful but you can call me Mistress Lashful! Time to get punished!"
"No...wait..." he protested but it was too late. Lashful pulled the reins of a metal chain forcing his manacled ankles to be hoisted into the air exposing his bare ass to her.
"You think that by being a polygamist that you can fuck your Sister Wives anytime!" She screamed. She released the whip as it licked his ass causing a red line on the first strike. Snowden howled in pain.
"Stop! No Mistress!"
"You like being the big man don't you!" She interrogated him sending another flogging to the side side of his ass cheek. A scarlet welt matched the first one in his pain.
"No...ouch...Mistress! I'm sorry!"
"I'll teach you to be sorry!" She threatened raising the whip even higher. She stopped the moment she heard the phone ring. "Damn, be right back." Snowden felt a sigh of relief the moment she left but that did not last long for he heard a pair of small heels click on the floor. Snowden looked up to see an exotic, beautiful, petite Asian woman in a tight dress looking up at him.
"Oh husband, you are hurt." She massaged his raw bottom which gave him a sense of comfort. "Can I, Wife Seven, make comfort for you?"
"Get me out of here!" He ordered her. Struggling with his bonds, Wife Seven could not loosen his chains.
"So sorry husband, I don't have key," she apologized. "I can make you happy too!"
By now Snowden had enough of all this ridiculousness. All the Sister Wives he had wished for was not what he anticipated but the moment Wife Seven began stroking his hard cock again suddenly made his feel more at ease. She massaged his prick with her tongue and mouth before stripping off her dress to reveal her large breasts and lacy panties.
"Would husband like anal?" asked Wife Seven.
Wouldn't he? That is what most men wanted their wives to do!
Snowden grinned. His hard cock standing at attention for her.
"Yes, let's do anal Wife Seven!" He told her.
"Okay, I do you."
I do you? She's not going to wear a strap on and fuck him is she?
Anxiety suddenly appeared on his face. He had to clear up his request.
"Wait, I don't mean getting ass fucked with a strap on!" He explained. "I'm just not into that!"
"Don't worry husband," reassured Wife Seven. "I don't need strap on." She peeled off her underwear to reveal her hidden donkey dick underneath. "I'm a katoey. A ladyboy from Bangkok. Get full operation later."
Snowden turned pale with the realization of all his Sister Wives. Just like his ancestor Snow White and her seven drawfs. Sleepy. Happy. Grumpy. Dopey. Sneezy. Bashful. Doc. The genie had granted his wish of seven wives but with a twist. He went over their names again in his head.
Sleazy. Crappy. Frumpy. Dopefiend. Breezy. Bashful.
"What is your real name?" He demanded as he watched in horror of Wife Seven approaching him with her huge phallus.
"Cock," she responded.