Drake continued to stare for a few moments at the creature reflected back in the mirror. He was still Drake, no question, but every inch of his body, with the exception of his nose, eyes, and forehead--and somewhat worried-looking eyebrows--was covered in thick, soft hair.
The hair on his head cascaded down onto his shoulders and back, his shoulders and back ALSO covered in flowing hair coming out of every pore. His neck was encircled with the same, as was his chest and torso--hair growing at about a foot long. He lifted away his massive beard with the back of his arm and dug into his chest hair. He found that his nipples were the only places on his chest where hair HADN'T grown--but left alone, the hair on his chest hid them completely.
His entire torso and back were the same. The hair of his armpits was so dense his arms naturally hung out a few inches from his body.
His bright white underwear poofed out uncomfortably from the enormous mass of hair underneath it, and Drake felt even more ridiculous studying himself--a Wookie or Bigfoot or long-haired ape, or whatever he was--in tighty-whities. He reached his hand back and felt his butt through his underpants. Well, he TRIED anyway. All he felt was hair, hair, hair. He thought for a moment of removing the jockey shorts, but feared he might not be able to get them back on.
All the way down his legs and the tops of his feet and toes, the hair growth was consistent and thick and soft and warm like a pair of trousers made entirely out of hair. Ropes and ropes of hair.
"Well," laughed Drake, "It's good to know this thing WORKS anyway." He stroked his beard. Yep. Fastened on pretty good. It crinkled softly in his hands, and the long hair from his arm became caught in it. He slowly stretched his arm out and watched as the hair ran through the tangles on the surface of his beard and finally became free again.
The study of his new, unbelievably hairy body finished, Drake gradually felt the excitement leaving him. He was coming back to his senses.
"Genie, sorry, but," Drake chuckled as he spoke, "I really can't be THIS hairy. I'll never be able to leave my dorm like this! Maybe this is how hairy men are where you come from, but...hahaha...I look like a freak!"
His voice was muffled underneath the massive mustache that was growing from his upper lip and completely covered his mouth.
As he spoke, his foot-long beard--a beard that flowed well past his chest--wagged noticeably. The sensation excited Drake, he could feel gravity playing on the hairs and tugging EVER SO SLIGHTLY on his skin, but frightened him a bit as well.
If ANYTHING were to happen to the lamp right now...
At the very thought of being unable to access the lamp, Drake's heart began to beat a little faster. He didn't want to think about it. Not now. Not while he was covered in a foot of hair from head to toe.
Okay, Drake admitted to himself, maybe part of me was curious to know what I'd look like with this much hair. But curiosity had been satisfied, let's get real now.
It was time to reverse this wish.
"Genie," he began again, "This has been kinda fun, but I wish for you to undo this."
Drake waited for the tingling sensation to start again.
It didn't.
"Genie, I said I wish for you to undo this."
Still nothing. The reflection in the mirror hadn't changed.
Drake turned to his bed and walked to where he'd discarded the lamp. Even in those two steps, Drake could feel the mass of hair brushing between his legs, his thighs, his buttocks. The added weight of the hair and the feeling of it dragging slightly as he moved about the room suddenly made the situation feel less like a dream and very, very real.
"GENIE? Where are you?!" said Drake, quickly scooping up the lamp. He grasped the end of his beard and rubbed the lamp with it.
A silvery cloud shout out of the lamp. Then,
"Greetings Mortal, I am Beldazarr, The Djinn of Mind and Body! What is your next wish?" the djiin said.
"Genie, oh, thank God," Drake sighed with relief at the appearance of the djinn. "I wish for you to undo this wish. I mean, this was great and all, but you made me way too hairy. I can't live like this. Undo it. Now, please."
"I cannot."
The two words hung in the air.
Drake blinked in utter disbelief.
"What are you talking about? You made me this hairy, you can make me un-hairy. Come on, man."
"I cannot."
"Whaddya mean you 'cannot'?" Drake felt himself starting to panic.
"A wish, made from the deep desires of one's heart, once made, cannot be un-made. My powers are limited to the granting of wishes, not the un-granting."
"You mean--you mean... I'm STUCK THIS WAY? I--I'm STUCK LIKE THIS?? FOREVER?"
The djinn looked down at his hairy master with a raised eyebrow. "I do not understand the question. Your WISH has been GRANTED."
The djinn seemed to grow larger and more imposing as he floated over the shaking, hair-covered mortal.
"Answer truthfully, if you can," said Beldazarr ominously, "--had I been conservative in granting your wish and given you only a reasonable amount, would you really have been truly satisfied? Or would not your morbid curiosity, your greed for freakish excess have asked me to give you MORE? And MORE? And MORE? Until you appeared as you do now??"
Beldazarr's chest puffed out.
"When you made your wish, I was able to see into your heart. And in your heart, THIS is what you truly wanted. ENJOY YOUR WISH."
And with that, the djinn disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Drake was alone in the room again. He looked down at his body, the words of the djinn still echoing in his head.
Drake began to breathe heavily, thinking desperately about what to do. The breath filled his mustache with the warmth of his exhalations. It reminded Drake of cold winters when he'd wrapped his face with a wooly scarf. The feeling, the very real feeling, only added to his panic. The hair on his head fell over his eyes. He grasped at it with a hairy hand and brushed it away, but caught a mouthful of mustache in the process.
He looked frantically around the room, not for anything in particular, just...SOMETHING. ANYTHING. His eyes fell upon a family picture sitting on the desk. It was of himself at the beach. Young. Handsome. Virtually hairless. Drake shot out his hands and clutched the picture tightly. The hair on his head fell onto the picture. The hair from his thumbs spilled onto the sides. His beard seemed to practically devour the bottom portion of the photograph. The hairless torso. The young man's smiling face. The neat haircut.
It couldn't be gone forever. It wasn't possible. It couldn't. It COULDN'T.
Drake stepped back in front of the mirror. What part of his face that was still recognizable as Drake underneath the bales of hair growing off his body reflected horror at the situation he found himself in. He clutched at his beard, grabbing fistfuls of it. He yanked and tugged and pulled. It hurt. It was firmly attached.
"No. No. NO. This isn't happening," Drake said as he ran his fingers through the hair on his face and body. "This isn't real. This isn't MY hair. It's fake. It's a trick, it's some sort of a trick. I can't be stuck this way. I can't!"
Drake went into a frenzy, grabbing handfuls of hair on his shoulder, then his legs, chest, stomach. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. His heart was racing, beads of sweat formed on his forehead and trickled down his temple before disappearing into his beard.
"THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!"
The follicles tingled from the pain of having been pulled on so violently, but no hair came off. There was no sign of the skin below.
Only hair.
And it would never go away.
His wish had been granted.