Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie

by Doctor MC

  And then I gave full reign to my alpha-male urges. Lying or kneeling in the grass beside Rhonda’s house were three beautiful and submissive young women, and I fucked them. Each to multiple sopping-wet orgasms.

  By then, Rhonda’s stereo was blasting again. Mr. Carver had been right: that stereo certainly was loud. It was a little distracting, fucking while that stereo was blaring. On the other hand, nobody complained about Brenda’s or Christi Ellen’s or Olivia’s orgasmic screams, because nobody heard them.

  Nobody had condoms except me, and my condoms were in my Captain America shield—and I didn’t feel like walking naked into Rhonda’s house. So as I had done this morning with Fatima, I “coped” with having to fuck a woman “bareback.”

  Before Christi Ellen, Brenda, and Olivia fucked me, each woman sucked me hard. Or rather, poor Olivia tried to. Poor Olivia not only looked like a virgin, she sucked cock like one too. Whereas Christi Ellen and Brenda each had my cock dancing the Macarena.

  Rhonda had a well-cared-for lawn; it was thick and vibrant green. And Reader, nothing makes a man appreciate lawn care like laying a naked woman onto the grass. Remember, men: If the grass is straggly and sickly, the woman is going to be uncomfortable while she’s getting fucked.

  Though to be honest, I didn’t notice the lawn, or care about it, until after I’d enjoyed a blowjob and three fucks. To be even more honest, until after a blowjob and three fucks, I didn’t even notice that the lawn was green.

  After a blowjob from Gennifer and three fucks, I was unhorny enough that I could carry on a conversation with my new touch-slaves. Or I would’ve talked to them, if the stereo hadn’t made such a thing impossible. So I shouted to the women about the party at the mansion on Sunday, the four of us got dressed, and we walked back into Rhonda’s house.

  Was Olivia a virgin when I fucked her? I don’t know. When I first got between her legs, I was too horny to ask. And after fucking her to orgasm, does it matter?

  ****

  Returning to Rhonda’s party, what I noticed immediately was Natasha holding Harold’s girlish body in a lover’s embrace. Harold’s back was to me. Even from twenty feet away, I could see Harold’s shoulders shake.

  “Why, Natasha?” Harold sobbed.

  Chapter 31

  Life Is No Fun For Harold

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: Characters Tim Hanson and Susie, and mentioned character Ashley, all are borrowed from my story Names Have Power.

  ****

  My three well-fucked touch-slaves and I walked in through Rhonda’s front door. The first thing that I saw was Black Widow (Natasha) holding Ultragirl (Harold) close to her. I couldn’t see Harold’s facial expression, because his back was to me.

  But clearly Harold was unhappy, because his shoulders were shaking with sobs.

  “Why, Natasha?” Harold cried.

  I felt a hand slap my shoulder, then Tim Hanson pulled me over to stand by him and Susie.

  Tim looked at me with sympathy. “Your lesbian friend is unhappy, but I have no idea what you should say to her.”

  “Do you know what’s wrong?” I asked.

  “No, I don’t know what’s wrong,” Tim said. His expression told me, And you won’t like my guesses. Tim added, “But Susie and I are pretty sure it’s sexual.”

  I shook my head. I was missing something. If Harold and Natasha had sex in Rhonda’s bed, why would that make Harold unhappy? Unless girlifying Harold kept his dick soft?

  Shit, what if Natasha fucked another guy and made Harold watch? Yeah, that’s probably what happened.

  Susie said hesitantly, “Um, if it is what we think it is, tell Helen that many women hate their first time. I know I did. But I don’t hate it anymore.” She smiled at Tim.

  I shook my head again. I had no idea what Susie meant (clearly it wasn’t impotence), and I was sure I didn’t want to ask.

  I squared my shoulders. “Thanks for the heads-up, folks. But now my friends need me.”

  As I walked up, Natasha was trying to console Harold: “Lyubimyi, you is so sweet. I is this so much wantink, to years and years, and this you to me is givink. Spasibo, lyubimyi, spasibo!”

  I stopped behind still-sobbing Harold and said quietly, “Hey.”

  Natasha said, “You is like the barbecue smellink. You is big hero.”

  I shrugged. “What’s going on?”

  Harold, with his back still to me, snarled, “Nothing is ‘going on.’ Go away.”

  I said, “I’m trying to help. You’re obviously unhappy—”

  “Damned right I’m unhappy!”

  “—and believe it or not, I want to help. Talk to me.”

  Harold still would not face me. “Talk to you? If I told you what just happened, you’d blab it all over the school. Go away.”

  I lowered my voice and said, “Look, Harold, I get that impotence is a sensitive topic—”

  Harold whirled around to face me. “Motherfuck, you’re clueless. You’re two feet taller, and muscular, but you’re still a clueless nerd! Go away, damn you.”

  Yes, I was still generally clueless. But I wasn’t as clueless as I was before Fatima granted my wishes last Sunday. During Harold’s rant, I noticed two things—

  Firstly, Harold’s lipstick was smeared where it wasn’t completely gone—which could mean only two things. (And who sobs after a heavy make-out session?)

  The second thing that I noticed while Harold was talking, was the smell of his breath—which I’d recently learned to recognize.

  My realization must have shown on my face. Because Harold said, “Oh, god.”

  Natasha said, “Helenka—”

  Without looking at either Natasha or me, Harold said, “Natasha, please take me home. Now, please.”

  Natasha gave me a questioning look, I nodded, and she then agreed to Harold’s request. I decided to leave the party then as well.

  But Rhonda tried to persuade “Helen” to stay: “Go now, are you sure? Because my lesbian coworker Ashley will be getting here around two, and you’ll learn a lot if you talk to her. I’m sure she has tons of great advice.”

  “Helen” shook “her” head. “It’s a long story, but I’m not a lesbian after all. It seems that guys are my future.”

  ****

  Twenty minutes later, I was walking up the stairs of my mansion. As I walked to my bedroom at the end of the hallway, I smelled vomit. The smell wasn’t nasty-strong yet, but that would change. Five of Gregory’s Girls were well into their drug withdrawal by now.

  I walked into my bedroom, shut the door, turned on the light—and discovered two young women in my bed.

  Fatima was gesturing as she slid out of bed. When Fatima’s gestures finished, the other woman started snoring. Loudly.

  I walked up close, and discovered that the snoring woman was Janice. She was wearing a spaghetti-strap top and nothing else. Whereas Fatima was wearing a G-rated green nightgown.

  I gestured toward Janice. “What’s going on?”

  Fatima said, “She wants to fuck you when you get in bed.”

  “Huh. Up till now, the touch-slave spell has made the girls submissive. They don’t make a move till I tell them to.”

  Fatima shook her head. “She isn’t here because of magic.”

  “Oh?”

  “Janice told me tonight that before you saved her, she felt like she was in a falling elevator—she would die soon, she couldn’t prevent it, and she couldn’t escape.”

  “Wow.”

  “Then today, you stopped the elevator and pulled her and the others to safety. Her devotion to you is not caused by magic, I’m sure.”

  “Huh. And you, Fatima? Why are you in my bed? I gave you your own private bedroom.”

  It isn’t often that a 2,600-year-old genie looks nervous. “Indeed I have my own bedchamber, and I deeply thank you. Do you want me to leave? Did I act above my place?”

  “Depends. Answer the question—truth, whole truth, and nothing but the truth: Why are you in here now, and not in there?
”

  “I ... enjoyed touching you last night, while you fell asleep. I would like to do that again. I feel a thrill when I’m close to you.”

  My eyes searched her soul. “A thrill always? What if I woke Janice up and we had hot sex? It would be awkward for you here.”

  She smiled, more confident. “Not so, Master! It is the natural order that most men rule most women, and a few men rule everyone else. To see a woman submit to you and gush in desire for you—that would make me feel good, because I made you this way.”

  “I’m your masterpiece?”

  She smiled. “Too bad nobody awards blue ribbons to bound djinn.”

  “Then why did Ali the Goat-Herder send you into the lamp whenever he bedded other women? I took that to mean that you were the jealous type.”

  “Oh no, he started banishing me after he brought Aureae home. I wasn’t nice to her at all, mainly because she was interested only in Ali’s gold.”

  “Go on.”

  “Aureae was well named! But I also disliked her because she swept in with this attitude of ‘Bow before me, all other women, to acknowledge my great beauty.’ ”

  “She was really hot shit, huh?”

  “Well, she thought so. But I wouldn’t play her game. Because for one thing, I thought, ‘If I wanted to, I could shift my shape to be your twin. Then where would you be? For I have much more experience at pleasing a man than you.’ ”

  “And that experience is fun to enjoy,” I said.

  Fatima smiled at me. Then she continued: “Also, I was thinking, ‘True, today you have rare beauty. But tomorrow? Not quite as much. Ten years from now, you’re a has-been. Sixty years from now, you’ll be a hag, while I give erections to your great-grandsons.’ ”

  “That’s true. I’m a great-grandson, and you definitely give me erections.”

  She smiled at me, then said, “Anyway, after Ali figured out that a twit won’t fuck him wetly after I’ve sneered at her, he started banishing me to the lamp during his playtime. But Master, there’s a point to my story.”

  “Oh?”

  “Before Aureae, I acted nice to all of Ali’s playmates—I spoke to them pleasantly, I complimented their clothes and cosmetics, and I brought them olives and fruit juices between rounds of sex. Why? Because I approved of Ali fucking beautiful women.”

  “And what has that to do with me?”

  “My attitude hasn’t changed, I want you to enjoy many other women. That proves you’re virile. Anytime I see a way to get another woman into your bed, I’ll do it. And I guarantee that you’ll not fuck another Aureae—a woman might approach you because of your money, but I vow that always she’ll fuck and suck you for free.”

  I nodded. “My sex life for the past six days has been legendary, and you’re to thank for that.” I kissed Fatima on the mouth.

  When I broke the kiss, she remarked, “You smell like smoke.”

  I laughed. “Want to know why? Touch my forehead.”

  As soon as Fatima quit memory-reading me, her eyebrows went up. She said, “You’ve had a busy evening.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I said. Then I took her hand and said, “Let’s go check on Gregory’s Girls.”

  But with my hand on the doorknob, I paused. I said to Fatima, “I’ve given you your own bedroom because you deserve the privacy. But also, I don’t want any human to see you or hear you do magic. Except for me and my parents. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  ****

  Before entering each girl’s room, I knocked on the doorframe—quietly enough to not wake a sleeper, but loudly enough to be heard by anyone who wasn’t asleep. In all five cases, my knock was answered with “Come in.”

  None of the five could sleep, and each complained of aches and shakiness. Tiffani had a blotch of vomit on the carpet by the bathroom door. And Miriam?

  As soon as Fatima and I walked into Miriam’s room, before I’d even spoken a word, she jumped out of bed, grabbed a set of keys off of the dresser, and shoved her clenched hand toward me. “Here, take my Honda keys,” she said.

  I took the keys, but I asked, “What’s going on?”

  “I crave the shit, Marvin sir. I crave it bad. If I didn’t need so much for you to like me, I would’ve already taken off and scored some dope.”

  “The craving is that bad?”

  She nodded fiercely. “So please, take the keys. I really don’t want you to dislike me.”

  ****

  After checking on all my new housemates, Fatima and I went back to my bedroom. With Fatima’s help, I undressed out of the Captain America costume, and then the two of us climbed into bed.

  Which woke Janice up. She snuggled up to me and, in a voice both sexy and sleepy, said, “Hey tiger, it’s time for me to thank you.”

  I’d gotten so much sex lately, I was actually able to be choosy. I said, “No, Janice, I’m too tired. Get me in the morning. At seven, if I’m not already awake before then.”

  “Mmm, you got it,” Janice said. “When the sun rises, so will you.” She gave me a long kiss.

  Then I kind of spoiled the mood by turning my face from Janice to Fatima. “When I fall asleep, you’re Night Nurse for the rest of Gregory’s girls. Wake me if I need to decide something.”

  “Yes, Master,” Fatima said.

  Janice asked, “Marvin, why does Fatima always call you ‘Master’?”

  “Shh, go back to sleep,” I said. “I’ll explain at tomorrow’s party.”

  My hands went up and out, and I pulled Fatima and Janice close. I left a hand on each woman’s hip, and let myself get sleepy.

  I stared up at the dark ceiling and I thought, What an incredible week! Eight days ago, I inherited Uncle Warren’s footlocker, and so much has happened to me since then.

  My last thought on Saturday night was, But now the exciting times are over. Sure, tomorrow’s pool party will turn into an orgy, but then? Years and years of almost-boring routine.

  Reader, I’ve never been more wrong.

  Chapter 32

  Am I Famous?

  For the second morning in a row, I woke up to the pleasures of a handjob. Janice was stroking me two-handed.

  “That feels super-nice,” I said, yawning.

  Janice moved around on the bed so that I could see her face. “Whores give blowjobs, but lovers give blowjobs and handjobs. And I’m no longer a whore.”

  “Which is good, because whores don’t kiss the guys they’re with,” I said. I kissed Janice for a while, then I pulled off her top, then I reached over to the night table. I got out a condom and sheathed my dick.

  Once my tadpoles were blocked away from Janice’s babymakers, I pushed Janice’s shoulders down, so that her head laid on the pillow where my head had been. Seconds later, my hands were on the mattress alongside her tits, and the head of my cock was rubbing against her pussy lips.

  Janice gave out a ragged gasp, and her light-blue eyes looked at me with lust. “I am sooo wet for you,” she said.

  The surprise came seconds later, when I was fucking her: Her pussy was squeezing my cock somehow.

  “Whatever you’re doing down there, it feels really good,” I said.

  “Really, it does? I read about it in a magazine. But I never tried it with any of my johns.”

  I smiled at her. “So I’m your first?”

  She smiled back. “Yes, doing Kegel exercises on a guy’s dick, you’re my first.” Then she added, smiling, “Please be gentle.”

  I thought that after all the sex I’d had on Saturday, I’d be slow off the mark. But between the flattery of a sopping-wet pussy, and the stroking that Janice’s pussy was giving me, I was having to concentrate on math problems and zombie attacks, in order to keep from spoiling the party for Janice.

  Yeah, my dick was feeling way too good—it was a problem.

  Janice, meanwhile, showed me that she was fully recovered from yesterday’s trauma with Gregory—she was climaxing like clockwork. Thrusting hips, moan
s, screams, back-scratches—the whole caboodle. And have I mentioned that her pussy was slurpy wet?

  When we finally headed for the shower, I’d enjoyed two orgasms. And Janice? I’d lost count at eighty-seven. (I exaggerate.)

  Just before we stepped into the shower, Janice asked, “Um, Marvin sir, why do you smell smoky?”

  I told her why.

  ****

  Thirty minutes later, Janice said, “Oh god, I’m starved.” She and I had just walked into the monster kitchen.

  The house’s other six residents were sitting at the kitchen table. The human women gave Janice a look that said You die slowly. Each of them had a small bowl of cereal in front of her, which looked barely eaten.

  Fatima had in her bowl some kind of grain that I didn’t recognize, which was topped with sliced-up figs. But Fatima’s attention wasn’t on her bowl, but on my face. When she saw my satisfied expression, she smiled like someone whose hand-fed colt had just won a race.

  I went around the table, kissing each of Gregory’s Girls on the forehead (I wasn’t fool enough to kiss her on the mouth yet), and I said to her, “I’m glad you’re here.” Each gave me a weak smile.

  When I got to Fatima, I picked up her chair (with her in it), pulled it back from the table, and turned it a quarter-turn before setting it down. I took each of Fatima’s hands in each of mine, pulled her out of the chair, and pulled her close to me. I kissed her, but not on the forehead. Then I said to her, “I’m very glad you are here.” She beamed, hearing that.

  Janice and Fatima made me breakfast. And I suspect that Fatima had done some cooking research with her scrying ball—because I doubt that they had huevos rancheros in King Solomon’s time.

  As Janice and Fatima were cooking, Janice announced, “Last night, Marvin rescued two children from a burning house. Our man is a hero!”

  “Again,” said Erin.

  “Twice in one day,” added Holly.

  “You say what you doed, please,” said Matsuko.

  I had just given everyone the Headline News version of my adventure, when my cel rang. It was Mom.

  After we’d exchanged pleasantries, Mom asked, “Did you do something to get on the news last night?”