Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie

by Doctor MC

  “Then you let me know, and I go talk to Mr. Chandler. Your job is under my protection now, just as these women’s safety is.”

  Elena clapped. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Me too,” Kristin said.

  Mr. Bender walked to the window. With his back to me and his shoulders slumped, he said, “Very well, Marvin Harper. Friends of yours get a free pass for dress-code violations through Graduation Day.”

  Kristin and Elena were almost bouncing on their toes from excitement. But I put my finger to my lips and, as quietly as a monk and two nuns, we walked out of Mr. Bender’s office.

  Once we were out in the hallway, Kristin said, “Wow, can you believe how Mr. Bender backed off from Marvin? You know why, don’t you?”

  I said, “Um...” I wasn’t about to explain to the girls about magic pheromones.

  But meanwhile, Elena was saying, “Because Mr. Bender realized: If they fight, Marvin will win. Last night, we fucked a hero!”

  And I realized that Elena was right. Holy shit! I thought.

  ****

  After hitting our lockers, Kristin, Elena, and I were walking down the hallway, with roughly ten minutes before the first-period Tardy Bell. Rather, I was walking, and the woman to either side of me was sashaying. You’d never know from watching Kristin move that she had been a virgin (or to clarify, a penis-virgin) for 99.992 percent of her life.

  I said, “I promised Mr. Bender that I would protect his job. Remember me saying that?”

  I got uh-huhs from both of them.

  “You can bet that he won’t talk about what happened in there, and I choose not to. So the only way that word’s gonna get out is, one of you talk. And I will be very keenly disappointed in you two if stories about this start flying. I walked into Mr. Bender’s office, we talked, we came to an agreement, end of story. Got it?”

  “We won’t disappoint you,” Elena said.

  Kristin said, “But Marvin, um, can we ask why? Mr. Bender can really be a prick to LGBT students. He deserves payback.”

  I was silent, while I considered how to answer that. My answer had something to do with the realization that I was now tall enough, and strong enough, that I could slam well over half the boys in this school into lockers, and yet I had no wish to.

  Eventually I said, “In life, there are guys who lose fights, and guys who win fights. But a true winner, having knocked a man flat, reaches out his hand and helps the other guy stand again. Humiliating a defeated opponent is the mark of a scumbag. I’m better than that. Or I try to be.”

  Kristin said, “I’m glad you chose us.”

  “Totally agree,” said Elena.

  Roaming the halls, the three of us had come upon Nathan Brennan talking to another large student. Both guys turned to stare at us.

  “Kristin,” I said, “go over there and ‘break up’ with Nathan. But act classy about it; no scumbag-ness.”

  Kristin detached herself from me, walked over to Nathan, and took his hand in hers. He looked at her in surprise, then at me in puzzlement.

  Kristin said, “I’m fond of you, Nathan, and you make me scream in bed. But Marvin is a world-class lover, and he has chosen me, so you and I are done.”

  Kristin then used her free hand to pull Nathan’s head down for a kiss.

  Then she said, “But Nathan, we’ll always have the Paris Hilton video that we acted out. I wish you well.”

  Then Kristin turned, and walked back to me.

  Both Nathan and his buddy were open-mouthed in amazement. Considering that Nathan was secretly gay, and that Kristin had been gay yesterday, Nathan’s amazement was understandable.

  ****

  A few minutes later, I had dropped Elena off at her first-period class, and I was walking Kristin to her own first class. Walking toward us in the hallway was a business teacher, Mrs. Ashcroft. That young and shapely teacher was staring at us.

  Mrs. Ashcroft stopped in front of us and said in a tight voice, “I hear stories about you this morning, Kristin.”

  Kristin replied, “If you’re hearing that I acted like a complete nympho in a cheap motel room, those stories aren’t true.”

  Mrs. Ashcroft visibly relaxed. “That’s good—”

  “Because the stories don’t go far enough. It was life-changing, Bethany.”

  Both Mrs. Ashcroft and I blinked. But I think I was faster to figure things out. “Mrs. Ashcroft, last night Kristin gave me her carpet shampooer. So now if you want your carpet shampooed, you’ll need to ask me instead of her.”

  Mrs. Ashcroft frowned at me. “There are other places I can find shampooers, you know.”

  “True, but you know the one I have now is well maintained. And it remembers the settings you like.”

  “Still, the fact that I must ask you now, complicates...” Then Mrs. Ashcroft’s frown-lines disappeared, and her eyes changed expression. “I think there are still two or three donuts in the Teacher’s Lounge. Would you like me to get you one?”

  All in all, Wednesday was shaping up to be an eventful day, and it wasn’t even First Period yet.

  Chapter 13

  Natasha’s New Plan

  Ah, the joys of first-period Physics. Usually my biggest problem was sleepiness. Not today. (Although I was definitely sleepy.)

  The guy’s name was Jim-Something. He leaned over while Mr. Lloyd was writing on the blackboard and muttered, “C’mon, dude, spill. You know we want to know.”

  I didn’t even look at him. “Jim, I need to finish my trig homework before class. Do you mind?”

  Jim’s voice was a leer. “Yeah, we all know the two reasons you didn’t finish your trig homework last night: A, Elena Garcia, and B, Kristin Curry.”

  Marty Nixon leaned in and said, “At least tell us where you went to do the deed. Your house, Elena’s house, Kristin’s house, Motel 6—where?”

  I glanced around. “Would you believe, we spent all night chomping pizza at CiCi’s?”

  Five male voices said as one: “Are you fucking with me?”

  When the Dismissal Bell rang, Mr. Lloyd held up his hand. “Marvin, a moment please.”

  Seconds later, I was standing in front of his desk. “Yes, Mr. Lloyd?”

  He said, “Marvin, you are usually a good student in my class, paying attention to my lecture. Today it was obvious that you were distracted. I hope tomorrow that you will return to giving me your full attention, and fully participating in class discussions.”

  “I will, Mr. Lloyd. I’m sorry to let you down.”

  “On the other hand, Marvin”—Mr. Lloyd’s face broke out in a leer—“if I did what you supposedly did yesterday, I’d be distracted, too. You lucky, lucky dog!”

  ****

  Hours later in the school cafeteria, Bob and Christopher both looked shocked when Elena set her lunch tray down next to mine. But then I said to Bob and Christopher, “Will you watch our trays, please? There’s something we need to do.”

  “Sure, no problem,” they each said. Then Bob and Christopher gave each other looks that said Do YOU know what’s going on? Because I sure don’t.

  Elena and I walked over to the athletes’ table. The guy next to Jorje slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Brace yourself, bro. It’s your turn.”

  I don’t know what Elena said to Jorje, because she said it in Spanish. But then she kissed him hard on the mouth. And just when everyone (including me, to be honest) started to wonder whether Jorje and Elena were getting back together, Elena stepped away from Jorje and walked back to me. And everyone who could see the hot stare she was giving me, had no doubt who her man was.

  ****

  A few minutes later, Natasha seated herself in the empty seat across from me at the lunch table. Walking up with Natasha (but not sitting) was a freshman girl. Natasha looked curiously at Elena, then said to me, “I have problem. But not for worry, I have answer.”

  The freshman girl, meanwhile, was looking at me as if I were a rock star.

  Natasha continued, “La
st week, I did invitink you to clothing party. I said, ‘We go as Russian spy couple.’ But now say I, what I was zinkink? Because Russian man is short, and you are not short.”

  I nodded. “For the joke to work, you need a guy who is, say, 5′2″. And no guy your age is like that.” Not anymore.

  Natasha said, “Five-foot-two? Someone tell to me conversion.”

  The freshman girl rolled her eyes. “It’s 157 centimeters, Anya.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “ ‘Anya’?”

  The freshman girl said, “When we Russians call Natasha ‘Princess Anastasia,’ it’s a slam.”

  “You’re Russian?” I asked. “You don’t sound it.” The girl had a thoroughly American accent.

  The freshman girl turned red. “Oh my gawd, I’m such a ditz! Hi, I’m Ilyana Basorsky. Born in Volgograd, but lived in the U.S. since I was five.”

  “Ahem!” Natasha said. “So I did makink new plan. Instead of we goink as Boris and Natasha, we is goink as Captain America and Black Widow.”

  “I don’t know, Natasha,” I said. “I can’t do a Russian accent well, and you’d look funny as Captain America.”

  It took Natasha a second, but then she laughed.

  I continued, “But here it is Wednesday noon, and the party is Saturday night. How am I going to find a costume that fits me by then? Find a brass lamp and tell the genie to make me a Captain America costume?”

  Ilyana said, “I’m not a genie, but I’ll do you right. I’ll make you the costume by Saturday night, and this can be my Final Project for Home Ec.”

  Natasha said, “Ilyana is good in sewink. She does makink folk-dance clothinks.”

  It took me only seconds to decide. “This works. Ilyana, let’s you take my measurements after school, so you can start your sewing.” Then I realized something. “Shit.”

  “Vat?” Natasha asked.

  “I promised Anna Kay that I’d tutor her in Trig after school.”

  Elena said, “What’s the problem? You can do both at the same time.” Then Elena’s voice got throaty. “And trust me—Anna Kay won’t mind looking at you while Ilyana works her tape measure.”

  I said, “Why will she not mind? I stand there, I get measured. Sounds boring, and it’s not getting tutoring done.”

  “Marvin, you haven’t figured it out? The costume is form-fitting. You’ll need to be naked when you get measured. Or close to it, anyway.”

  Natasha said, “I did tellink Harold to brink shorts for you. Oh, in speakink of Harold—”

  Meanwhile, Elena was biting her lip, and I knew she was thinking sexual thoughts, but was too submissive to say them. So I looked at her and said, “Will you and Kristin come to the Home Ec Lab after school? I worry that Ilyana and Anna Kay might ravish me while I’m defenseless in shorts.”

  “Sure, Kristin and I can swing by there,” Elena said, grinning.

  “Ahem!” Natasha said. “I did comink here, Marvin, also in tellink you that I did invitink Harold Miller also to clothink party.”

  Bob asked, “So who’s he going as? Iron Man? Spider-Man? Daredevil?”

  Natasha smiled. “Is surprisink.” To Bob she said, “You is not close. Estonia and Kamchatka is closer.”

  Christopher said, “Superman? Batman? Nah, Harold’s too short for Batman. Robin?”

  Natasha grinned. “Still you is not close. Nobody here can is guessink Harold’s clothink for clothink party.”

  Actually, I could guess. But I didn’t speak my guess aloud because it sounded so ridiculous.

  ****

  “Really, Marvin, I don’t mind being tutored in Home Ec Lab,” Anna Kay told me.

  Kristin made a throaty laugh. “I’m sure you don’t. The scenery will be great.”

  School had ended for the day. The three of us, plus Elena and Natasha, were walking toward the aforementioned Home Ec Lab.

  Harold ran up to us. “I brought Marvin his shorts, Natasha. These should fit him, like you asked.” Harold pulled his book bag off his back, and it was obvious to me that he barely could slow his book bag as it dropped to the floor. He opened up his book bag, dug out a pair of black shorts, and handed them to Natasha.

  When Harold tried to put the book bag back on his back, it was obvious that he was struggling to lift it. So I decided to help him out. By then, Natasha had handed the shorts to me, so I had to help Harold one-handed. Fortunately, his book bag turned out to be no heavier than mine, so I was able to put his book bag on his back without working my arm hard.

  Harold stared at me, saying nothing. He looked afraid.

  I remarked, “Harold, we’re not exactly friends, but a word of advice: Lose that purple shirt.”

  He shook his head. “Natasha brought it to me this morning, and asked me to wear it.”

  “Dude, it’s not only purple, it’s satin. It makes you look gay.”

  Harold said, “Natasha brought it to me this morning, and Natasha asked me to wear it. Why aren’t you bothering Natasha?”

  Then Harold turned to Natasha and said, “May I be excused now? I, uh, have things I need to do at home.”

  I’m not sure why it took Natasha a long time to answer that request. I’m also puzzled why, during her long silence, she kept glancing at me. Her looks at me puzzled me mainly because I’d already figured out that the magic pheromones didn’t work on her.

  At last she said, “Yes, you may is to home goink.” Harold zoomed away.

  (Or he would have zoomed away, if his book bag didn’t strain his legs so much. Jeez, his legs had sure gotten skinny.)

  A minute later, the four girls and I walked into the Home Ec Lab. I knew that Ilyana would be there, and I expected her teacher to be there as well, to check Ilyana’s tape-measure work. And indeed, those two were there, waiting.

  But Ilyana and Mrs. Williams weren’t alone in the room. Not by a long shot.

  The room was filled with female flesh.

  Chapter 14

  Orgy in Home Ec

  The Home Ec Lab was full of teen girls, dozens of them. Freshman girls, sophomore girls, and junior girls; among the senior girls were Stephanie Eklund and Diane Young.

  There were teachers there, besides Mrs. Williams. My English teacher, Ms. Mott, was sitting next to Kristin’s former lover, Mrs. Ashcroft. Also present were several former teachers of mine, which puzzled me until I remembered that I had “always” looked like this.

  Most of the freshman girls looked at me like I were a rock star; all of the teachers looked at me like I were Casanova. I decided that the reason was that many freshman girls were still virgins, while none of the teachers were.

  The older schoolgirls were imitating either the freshman girls or the teachers—they were looking at me either with worshipful admiration or with blatant desire. Interestingly, both Stephanie Eklund and Diane Young were showing virgin(?) expressions. Hm.

  Natasha looked at the crowd in confusion. “Why is all girls did comink, Harold to seeink? Basketball team is more tall, and red-haired boy on soccer team—”

  “Football team, Anya,” corrected Ilyana from across the room.

  “—on football team is bigger muscles havink.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Elena. “I can’t tell you why Marvin is the biggest stud muffin in the school—”

  “—but he definitely is Plato Smith’s number-one, Grade-A Prime stud-muffin,” purred Kristin.

  Mrs. Williams slapped her forehead. “Speaking of muffins, we have some in the refrigerators. Would you like some, Marvin?”

  Anna Kay looked at me and asked, “Does any of this make sense to you?”

  I shrugged. “It’s not because I’m driving a babe-magnet car.”

  By now, Mrs. Williams was standing nearby with a plateful of muffins, looking eager to please. If she’d had a tail, she’d be wagging it.

  I shook my head. “Maybe after the measuring. Where do I change?”

  “We have our own bathroom,” Mrs. Williams said. She pointed.

  The bathroom was p
ainted pink, and there was not a urinal to be found. I made sure to put the toilet seat back down.

  Dozens of throats gasped when I stepped out of the bathroom, in all my six-foot-tall, flat-abs, wide-shoulders glory. Mrs. Ashcroft blurted out, “Oh god, he looks fuckable!”

  Ms. Mott replied primly, “Marvin is more than just a sex object, Bethany.”

  ****

  While Ilyana was taking her tape measurements, she acted businesslike (while still looking at me starstruck). Ilyana took a lot of measurements—then suddenly she looked nervous. “Marvin, um, I have one more to do.”

  One of her hands pressed the end of the tape measure against my ankle.

  She said, “I, um, need to measure your, um, inseam.”

  Ilyana’s other hand, with measuring tape slipping through the fingers, moved up my leg, then hesitated. That’s when the whole room figured out what Ilyana’s problem was.

  I smiled at the girl. “Put your hand wherever it needs to go to get a good number.”

  And that is how a fifteen-year-old virgin’s hand pressed against my shorts-covered testicles. I heard a teacher say, “Lucky girl.”

  Then Mrs. Williams repeated the measuring of me. It actually took Mrs. Williams three times as long as Ilyana took, because Mrs. Williams insisted on explaining everything she was doing. And apparently, there are many “tricks of the trade” when measuring someone for custom-made clothing.

  Just as Ilyana had, Mrs. Williams postponed the inseam’s measurement till last. Mrs. Williams was kneeling down, very close to me, with one hand close to my groin, when she “asked permission” with a raised eyebrow. I nodded, she put her hand where it needed to be, and a few seconds later, she called out a number. But she took her time pulling her hand away from my balls; and when she stood up again, she gave me a bedroom smile.

  Well, that was a unique experience, I thought. Now to change into regular clothes, give Anna Kay her promised trig tutoring, then go home and have that long-overdue conversation with Fatima.

  Instead, Mrs. Ashcroft yelled, “CAN WE FUCK HIM NOW?” And all my plans went in the trash.

  ****

  Mrs. Williams still was standing close to me. She dropped to her knees again, saying, “If you’re about to fuck, I hope that I may serve you in some way. I am yours.”