Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie

by Doctor MC

  Then Bridget looked down at my boner, and up at my eyes. With a sexy smile, she said, “Just tell me when to start, when to stop, and how fast to go.”

  I don’t know if it was an Olympics-quality blowjob, or if it was dime-a-dozen. Nor do I care. Bridget gave it everything she had for ten minutes, then I felt truly wonderful.

  I got a glimmer of understanding then, how Uncle Warren could get addicted to this.

  ****

  I got fully dressed, I gave Bridget permission to get fully dressed—Or otherwise she might go to work tomorrow, bare-breasted?—I collected her contact info, I kissed her goodbye on the mouth, and then I drove home.

  Lord, I was tired.

  Once I got home, I fended off my parents’ questions with an “explanation” of “Uncle Warren’s computer was interesting, and that’s why I was there so long.” Then I went upstairs to my bedroom.

  I started my homework at 10:13 in the evening. Not smart.

  Sometime between two and three in the morning I woke up; I was slumped in the chair of my study desk, the desk light blazing away. I set the bedside alarm, pulled off my shirt and shoes, turned off the desk light, and fell into bed, my pants still on.

  I had time for only one thought before I fell asleep again: Everything in the room seems smaller.

  ****

  Tuesday morning, as soon as Harold Miller was out of bed, he went to his wallet and checked his driver’s license. It said he was 5′7″—he’d lost another inch overnight.

  Which was certainly bad news. Worse news was when he noticed that his letter jacket was gone, replaced by a red-and-white “Plato Smith Panthers” windbreaker. A windbreaker that any PSHS student with twenty-five bucks could buy.

  But Miller got the worst news of the morning a half-hour later, when he was in the bathroom shaving.

  Chapter 10

  Day 2: More Changes

  Tuesday morning, I decided that I especially hated my alarm clock. But I got out of bed anyway—and discovered I was now 5′9″.

  And I had muscles now. They weren’t bulgy or bulky; I looked “fit” instead of “strong.” But I no longer looked like a guy whom other guys could pick on.

  In the kitchen, I felt panicky when Dad slapped me on the shoulder. He said, “Lucy, beware—a zombie walks among us.”

  I thought, Oh no! Dad’s going to turn into my slave now! But nothing seemed to be happening with Dad. With Mom either, come to think of it.

  Mom asked me, “Did you finish your homework, Sleepy Boy?”

  “Some, not all. Didn’t even start Government. If Mr. Spinelli gives a pop quiz on the reading, I’m dead.”

  “So what do you plan to do about that?” Dad asked.

  I shrugged. “Tell Mr. Spinelli I didn’t start the homework. After that, it’s up to him.”

  My parents exchanged approving glances. Then my mother got up and walked around the kitchen table. She hugged me, saying, “You prove yourself a man today.”

  I tensed. Do her words have a sexual meaning? Will she become my slave now, just because she touched me?

  By now she’d returned to her seat at the kitchen table. She saw me staring at her, and said, “Hello? You’re tired, but don’t sit there zoned out or you’ll be late! Do I need to spank your butt to get you moving?”

  “No, Mom,” I said. As I walked to the sink to rinse my dishes, I was smiling with relief. Slaves, I was pretty sure, never threatened to spank their masters.

  ****

  Janice Wesley was standing by her locked locker when I walked up to my own locker. “Hello, Marvin,” she said, turning to face me fully.

  “Hey, Janice,” I said, distracted, as I swapped books between my book bag and my locker. As I was locking the padlock, I finally gave Janice a good look.

  I smiled at her. “Wow, I really like the t-shirt and the jeans. You look good.” Both shirt and pants were light blue, and matched her eyes closely.

  She said, “ ‘You look good.’ Is there anything you would like, um, to make me, you know, look better?”

  I sighed. “You will not like my answer.”

  “Please, tell me! Don’t worry, I can get whatever money—”

  I shook my head. “That’s just it. Drugs are ruining your body. Get clean and sober, and you’ll start to look better. This also means no dealing and no hooking.”

  “I will,” she said. “Clean and sober, no dealing, no hooking, you got it. Anything else?”

  “Skirts or dresses instead of jeans, and some kind of heels, those would be nice.”

  “Okay, though how I’m gonna pay for those now, I don’t know. Marvin?”

  “Hm?”

  Now Janice looked scared. “I am not looking forward to the next few days. But if you say to get clean, I’m gonna do it. I don’t want you disliking me.”

  The strange thing was, I had never in my life touched Janice. But now she was acting just like my three handshake-slaves.

  ****

  Lunch was strange. For one thing, I saw Hank—excuse me, Harold—Miller sitting by himself, instead of with the football players. And something about his face looked odd—

  “You need a refill?” Christopher said to me.

  I turned my attention back to Bob and Christopher, who were sitting either side of me. “Say what, Christopher?”

  He pointed. “Your glass, it’s empty. Dr Pepper, right?” He was already standing up.

  I thought, It’s gotten to Christopher too! Aloud, I said, “I’m not crippled, guys. I can get my own dr—”

  Now Christopher looked worried. “I just couldn’t stand you thinking I’m not a good friend.”

  I turned to Bob. “What are your thoughts on this?”

  Bob said, “Want some pie? I can run and get you a wedge of pie while he’s refilling your drink.”

  I wanted to scream. Instead I said calmly, “No need, Bob. Forget the pie.” To Christopher I said simply, “Go.” He grabbed my glass and hurried off.

  Two minutes later, Christopher plopped a full glass of cola onto my lunch tray. As Christopher was retaking his seat, a girlish hand reached over my shoulder and put a second full glass on my tray.

  I looked around in surprise. Standing just behind my right shoulder was Diane Young, a girl in my seventh-period English class. She said, “I thought you deserved to enjoy your lunch, instead of running around getting refills.” Seeing that I wasn’t smiling at her, she said nervously, “That okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks. That’s nice, what you did.”

  Diane gave me a big smile, then walked away.

  I know I hadn’t touched Diane yesterday. I don’t think I’d even spoken to her yesterday. But for forty-six minutes yesterday, I’d sat two feet away from her during seventh period.

  I was trying to figure out what all this strange stuff meant, when my thinking was interrupted by male voices yelling—

  “ ‘APOLOGIZE’? FUCK, NO! I’LL SAY IT AGAIN: YOU’RE A FAGGOT!”

  “YEAH? THIS ‘FAGGOT’ IS GONNA KNOCK YOUR FACE IN, RIGHT NOW!”

  I looked around. Jorje Rodriguez, quarterback, and Nathan Brennan, wrestler, were standing and glaring at each other, and both guys had their fists clenched.

  Reader, I can’t tell you why I got out of my seat, why I walked up to Jorje and Nathan, or why I said what I said next. All I can offer for explanation is that everything that I said felt right, felt natural, felt like something I was entitled to say—

  I looked each bigger boy in the eye. “Jorje. Nathan. You’re disturbing my lunch. Quit yelling.”

  Nathan hung his head. “Sorry, Marvin.”

  Jorje also hung his head. “I’m real sorry, Marvin. But Nathan called me a—”

  I raised a hand. “Whatever problem you two have, solve it peacefully. Got me? No yelling, no face-knocking—peacefully. I want to enjoy what’s left of lunch.”

  “I got it, Marvin,” Nathan said.

  “Will do,” Jorje said.

  I walked back to my seat,
with everyone in the lunchroom smiling at me with relief. Well, everyone except for Harold and Natasha. She was sitting across the lunchroom table from him, and those two were conversing intently. Huh? I thought those two hated each other.

  ****

  As usually happened, I got to Mr. Spinelli’s fifth-period Government class before Harold Miller did. So I watched Miller walk into the room.

  He’d lost another inch overnight, I was pretty sure. What’s more, now he looked puny; he really had a hard time taking off his book bag and putting it where he wanted on the floor. He still had that oddness about his face that I couldn’t name. And there was something new today, that was especially odd—

  From the moment he came to his desk and stopped walking, through his struggles with his book bag, to the moment when he was seated in his chair—in all that time, he kept his knees together.

  As soon as the Tardy Bell rang, my hand shot up. “Mr. Spinelli.”

  “Marvin?”

  “I was involved with some family business yesterday, and the bottom line is, I didn’t even start today’s assignment.”

  “You have nothing to hand in?”

  “Marvin’s gon-na get a ze-ro!” Miller sing-songed. His voice sounded higher than I remembered it being.

  Mr. Spinelli shook his head. “No, I won’t give Marvin a zero—”

  “—because Marvin is special,” said Stephanie Eklund. “Unlike you, Little Harold!” It was odd that Stephanie was my new verbal defender, because she sat on the other side of the room from me.

  Mr. Spinelli nodded. “Marvin, you are special, but I must still insist on you doing your work. So I’m giving you one day’s grace; tomorrow you must turn in both today’s assignment plus tonight’s.”

  “Not fair,” Miller muttered.

  I turned around to glance at Stephanie Eklund. She gave me a big smile.

  ****

  In trig class, Anna Kay and I set up another trig-tutoring date. But since we couldn’t make it for after school (Anna Kay had to do something cheerleading-related after school), we set up our tutoring “date” for Wednesday afternoon.

  Anna Kay was much more enjoyable company today than on Monday. For one thing, she wasn’t acting lonely and sad today. For another thing, Anna Kay was acting genuinely friendly toward me, and I rediscovered the joy of talking to an attentive beauty who didn’t offer to run off and fetch me candy bars.

  Anna Kay complimented me on two things I’d said in yesterday’s trig class. I was pleased that she’d noticed and remembered.

  ****

  School was out, and I was about to get into my car. A noise caught my attention, and I looked over to see a crowd of teens at the far end of the parking lot. They were all yelling; obviously some guys were fighting.

  To get out of the parking lot, I had to drive my car past the mob. And that’s when I recognized a particularly excited onlooker as Elena Garcia—cheerleader and girlfriend of Jorje Rodriguez.

  “Shit!” I said. I parked my car as quickly as I safely could, ran across the asphalt, and waded into the crowd.

  Nathan Brennan had a black eye. Jorje Rodriguez had a split lip. Each guy dropped his fists when he saw me.

  “We did what you told us not to,” Nathan said.

  “And now you’re mad at us both,” Jorje said. “That sucks.”

  “And now it will cost you,” I said calmly. “Elena Garcia, step forward. Nathan, who’s your girlfriend? Is she here?”

  Nathan said, “I’m, uh, with Kristin Curry. And yeah, she’s here.”

  Seconds later, there were five kids inside the circle of onlookers: two big and athletic guys, two pretty girls, and me. Kristin, it turned out, was a girl bodybuilder and on the basketball team.

  I said to Nathan and Jorje, “You bucked my authority, so now I get your girlfriends till midnight. Elena, Kristin, come with me.”

  Want to know what’s strange? Neither Nathan nor Jorje questioned my right to take their girlfriends to be my sex slaves. Neither Elena nor Kristin questioned it. Nobody else questioned it. And when I said it, it seemed to be the right thing to say for me as well.

  After driving away from school with two beauties in my back seat, I stopped off at Mr. Dodd’s office. I borrowed sixty dollars in cash and I called my parents.

  While I was at Mr. Dodd’s office, I also instructed him and Bridget to set up a meeting Thursday after school, between Aunt Esther and me. (With our lawyers there, of course.) I wanted to neutralize Aunt Esther’s legal threat once and for all.

  But Reader, you don’t want to read about my legal strategies, do you? You’d rather read about how I spent my afternoon and evening with two hot teen girls, right? Back to the good stuff—

  After leaving Mr. Dodd’s office, I hunted up a drugstore. Twenty minutes after purchasing condoms (my first such purchase ever), I stepped into the office of an “affordable” (sleazy) motel. Five minutes later, my car was parked outside a motel-room door. “Bring your book bags and purses inside, or else they might get stolen,” I told the girls.

  Seconds later, the two girls and I were inside the motel room. “Get undressed,” I said.

  Elena hurried to obey, and was naked in seconds. Kristin pulled off her top. But instead of unsnapping her bra, she looked at me and said, “You’re gonna be mad at me.”

  Chapter 11

  My Second Three-Way

  In the motel room, I told Kristin and Elena, “Get undressed.”

  Elena hurried to obey, and was naked in seconds. She had waist-length straight black hair, all-over dark-brown skin, an athletic figure, chocolate-brown nipples (which were jutting out), large tits, and a trimmed bush.

  Meanwhile, Kristin had pulled off her top. But instead of unsnapping her bra, she looked at me and said, “You’re gonna be mad at me.”

  I was not angry at Kristin, I was puzzled. Since Fatima had granted my six wishes, my mother was the only woman able to refuse me anything.

  “Tell me why I’ll get angry, Kristin,” I said.

  “Nathan and I aren’t really a couple. We both go for, um, our own sex.”

  “Yuck!” Elena said. “And he called Jorje a faggot?”

  “Hush, Elena,” I said. I walked over to Kristin and gripped her bare shoulders. Her eyes changed expression then. Then I said to Kristin, “Maybe you haven’t met the right man. A real man is neither a pushover nor a brute.”

  Then I kissed her, and held the kiss. As soon as my lips touched hers, she was kissing me back.

  When I finally broke the kiss, her nipples were jutting out, and I recognized her new smell. She said, “I’ve never been with a man before. I’ve never wanted to be with a man before.”

  “Well then,” I said, “get undressed.” When she started pulling clothing off, I removed my own.

  Kristin had light, collar-length brunette hair. She had light skin and blue eyes. Her bodybuilding made her shape bumpy, not smooth (but in a nice way), and she was hard to the touch.

  Behind me, I heard Elena say, “Nice body you got, Marvin. You on the swim team?”

  I said, “Nah. My form’s no good.”

  In front of me, Kristin smiled at me and said, “Right now I’m thinking your form looks very good.”

  By now Kristin was naked, I was naked, I was wearing a raincoat, and I was pushing Kristin onto the bed. Elena asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Get your pussy warm for me, and keep it warm for me. I’ll really like it if I hear squishy noises.”

  I kissed Kristin, then I looked in her eyes and said, “Tell me if I’m doing this wrong. I really want to learn this.” Then I moved myself down the bed to her crotch.

  She said, “No, come back. Don’t go straight there, tease me. Let me know what you’re going to do, but make me go crazy, waiting for you to do it.”

  “Like this?” Then I moved back up to her face, kissed her, then I planted kisses along a teardrop path—down her body to her pubic hair, across, and back up.

  “Yeah, you
got the idea,” Kristin said. She was moving her hips around.

  I moved my mouth over to Kristin’s nipples, and meanwhile reached down to finger her. I wasn’t very good at getting her off, at first, but I figured out the algorithm—

  If she likes it, keep doing it; if she doesn’t like it, try something else.

  Now I moved my mouth south again, this time going straight for Kristin’s clit. Which was a good plan, except I didn’t exactly know where her clit was. But her reactions soon clued me in.

  “That looks so sexy,” Elena said. As commanded, Elena’s masturbating was now making wet noises.

  After a while of me learning how to eat pussy, apparently I passed the course, because Kristin began gasping and thrashing and moaning. When she could talk again, Kristin said, “I hope you’ll fuck me now. I want to feel your cock in me.”

  “Oh yeah,” Elena said, “take her. Make her a real woman.”

  Having nothing better to do at the moment, I did exactly that. When I inched my cock into Kristin, I was surprised by what I didn’t find. I asked her, “What’s the deal with your hymen?”

  “I, um, busted it with a, um, dildo. I, um, got carried away.”

  I grinned at her. “If you don’t have a hymen to worry about, then it’s party time!” I shoved my cock inside her, as far as it could go. I was pleased to discover that her pussy was tight.

  She gasped. “Oh god, it’s so big!”

  I looked at Kristin very seriously. “If you don’t absolute-truth believe that, take it back right now—no harm, no foul. But after now, I don’t like to be bullshitted during sex.”

  “Marvin, it’s no bullshit, you’re huge! I feel like a baseball bat’s inside me.”

  Elena said, “Really? Oh wow.” Her pussy got slurpier.

  Soon Kristin started thrusting her hips to match mine. “Ohh, Marvin, this feels so much better than a rubber dildo. Fuck me, Marvin, fuck me hard!”

  “You tell him, Kristin,” Elena said.

  “Feel me getting wet?” Kristin said. “Hear me slurp? I’m wet for you, Marvin. I’m wet and I’m het for you.”

  She started thrusting faster. “Make me het for you, Marvin! Oh yes, I’m your hetero, I’m het—oh god, I’m gloriously het!” She was kissing me hard on the mouth now.