"Yeah, yeah; suck my big dick, Krystal," you rejoin. Only to immediately stumble at the feeling of something alien in your panties. You cry out, startled at both the weird sensations coming from your crotch and from almost falling. Fortunately you catch yourself on a chair; you lean on it a second, before shooting a hand down to find out what the fuck is in your underwear.
"Erica? Are you okay?" Krystal calls out, concerned. Despite your snark, she was a good friend and a caring person generally.
"Oh my god!" is your inadvertent response as your fingers make contact with a sensitive roll of turgid flesh.
You tear your panties down and immediately your big dick springs out, pushing up the folds of the jersey you are wearing, jutting out a proud ten inches. Weird throbbing pulses through you from it, needy and hard and... somehow pleasurable. You stare at it wide-eyed, still bent down with your hands on your panties. And in comes Krystal.
"Erica? What -- oh my god!" The concern in her voice turns to shock as she echoes your sentiment. "You're... you're a futa!?"
"What!?" You barely recognise the word in connection with the stuff Krystal is into. Hurriedly you try to hike your panties back up, but only manage to wedge your new dick upright against your stomach. Your face was burning as you snapped back. "N-no, I'm not a 'futa'!"
And just as suddenly, the cock was gone. The hardness, the heat, the pressure as it was squeezed by the elastic of the panties, the pleasure, was gone. Your jersey flops back down over your crotch as you both continue to stare at it. After a minute or two, Krystal is the first to break the silence, asking the question on both your minds.
"What... what just happened? Did I imagine it, or do you... did you... have a cock?"
Your mind is racing, trying to figure out the answer to that question. What indeed had happened? Meanwhile, trying to save face, you quickly answer her second question with, "Y-yeah, you... you..."
You shiver. Somehow the words won't come; you can't bring yourself to say that she just imagined it. Trying again, you say, "I n- neh-..."
The chill grows worse, your hairs standing on end. Once again, you literally cannot say "I never had a dick". Krystal stares at you, very concerned.
"Um... Erica? Are you okay?"
You shake your head. "I don't know... just let me think."
"Are you sure? It's, um, fine if you have a cock; I'm pretty sure I didn't imagine that. But that's not as important as -"
"Krystal," you interrupt in exasperation, "shut up and let me think!"
She rolls her eyes. "Fine, be that way." She sticks her tongue out and goes back to her cartoons.
You pull out the chair and slump into it, elbows on your knees, head in your hands. What the hell is going on? You trace back over the events. You joked about Krystal sucking your cock, suddenly you had a cock. You denied it, it was gone.
Suddenly your dream came back to you. "Was it... not just a dream?" you whisper. Is everything I say going to come true? One way to find out, you suppose.
"I wish I had a million bucks."
Nothing. You sigh, kind of disappointed, kind of relieved. But then you realise: you expressed a desire, not made a statement. You frown.
"I have a million bucks."
This time? Something definitely happens. Stacks of hundred dollar bills, neatly bound in bank straps, appear around you. You stare around, feeling like your eyes might pop out of your head and your jaw fall off.
"Okay..." You bend down and pick up a couple of stacks. Running your fingers over the bills, they feel and look real. And why wouldn't they be? Would you expect counterfeit bills to magically appear?
You suppress a hysterical laugh. Calm down. Stay calm. Be calm. You take several minutes to breathe, closing your eyes.
"Okay. Okay. All of this money, except what I'm holding, is safely in the bank."
You open your eyes. All the cash is gone from the floor, leaving you holing two straps of $100 bills -- literally ten thousand dollars at your fingertips. You shake your head. "Guess I'd better tuck this away..."
You get up and walk mechanically back to your room, tucking the money in behind your underwear, except for a few bills which you slip into your wallet. You take another deep breath and force yourself to start thinking again. Your money problems are solved, but what about this power? It's kind of unsettling to be able to rewrite reality.
Though you do seem to have limits. You think about your failed attempts to brush off the incident. You could not talk. And you conclude that while statements made about the present will be true, you cannot change the past with your words. So you couldn't tell Krystal she'd imagined it, because she hadn't. You couldn't say you'd never had a dick, because for a few moments you did. Since you couldn't change the past and could only speak the truth now, you literally couldn't say untrue things about the past.
"Heh." You wonder what other limitations there might be -- what other things you couldn't say. But you decide it's better not to mess around. You might be a grouch in the mornings, but you don't want to hurt anyone. Much less accidentally mess up reality.
You run a hand through your hair. This is still very weird, but now that you've processed it a little, you're starting to feel excited. You just made yourself a millionaire. The memory of that big throbbing cock is still fresh in your mind. What else could you do with this bizarre new gift?