The Elevator Thirty-Eighth Floor (Patreon)

Cardonali the magical imp was doing what he always did, he caused   trouble to others for his own amusement.  Cardonali had the ability to   put any thought into a person's mind and manipulate them as he wanted   to.  He stood unobserved or at least unacknowledged in the back of an   elevator waiting to see who would get in.

"Don't forget Billy, a good boy never tells Mommy's secrets," 'Mommy' told me as we entered the elevator.

I remember telling my son that scores or many hundreds of times.  But that was when I was Mommy, now I am Billy.

Now I have the biggest secret of all and I can't tell anyone.  I want to tell. I need to tell.  How can I return to my old life as a grown woman if no one knows there is a problem?  But I can't tell.  I am somehow forced to be what I thought of as being a good little boy.  

There isn't any physical force preventing me, but for no apparent reason, I am simply incapable of doing anything that I would have thought was not being a good boy.  In this case, not telling Mommy's secret that she is really the nine-year-old boy and I am really the thirty-something-year-old woman.

We are about to enter the elevator.  I know who will be there when we get out.  My bastard of an ex-husband.  I am going to be spending a week with him as his son.  Not only will my ex be there, but also that bitch that he had an affair with during our marriage.  That blonde bimbo who instigated the divorce.  She'll be all smiles and sweet talk, but I know what a bitch she really is.

A week with just them would be awful, but that wasn't the plan for this week.  This week we are going camping, my 'dad' and I.  He'll take us out into the woods and we'll spend six days living in the forest.  I'll have to act like I am enjoying it.  I won't be able to call him the bastard I think he is.  I won't be able to defend myself when he talks smack about his 'ex-wife'.  Something he shouldn't do in front of his son.

We'll go fishing and he'll make me bait the hook with a disgusting worm.  Then we'll sit for long boring hours trying to catch a fish.  Who cares if we catch a fish, it's just plain boring.  Of course, he'll be drinking beer while fishing.  I can't even ask for a beer for myself; I'm nine.

All this because I have to be a good little boy.  I can't tell anyone about what has happened to me.  My life is hell.

The elevator is almost down to the bottom floor.  I'd better put a smile on my face and greet my dad with a big hug.  God, I wish I could kick him in the balls instead.

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