My Genie Story

My Genie Story

Part One: The Skippable Character Development Part

You could ask anyone who knew me if I believed in any of the mystical stuff and all of them would have told you I was adamantly against it all. Horoscopes, fortune telling, any kind of supernatural hocus pocus which relied on the idea of the afterlife all seemed like a bunch of crap made by people who were either deluded or trying to make some easy money. Yet despite the fact that none of it appealed to me there was still an almost childlike wonder that resided within me, waiting to be proven wrong. Which I was. Mostly.

I didn’t have a job at the time and I had been out of college for about a year. I was on my way home from the supermarket when I stopped dead in my tracks outside a charity store. Stopping outside the store wasn’t an unusual thing for me to do. More than once I had gone inside and bought some cheap books, mostly Harry Potter or some other fantasy series, but this time there was an old lamp wedged between an old tennis racket and an Elvis Presly vinyl. My first obvious thought was that maybe, just maybe there could be a genie waiting inside the lamp. The notion that maybe this was the beginning of my own genie story was too enticing to pass up.

I went inside to find the lamp was being sold for five pounds. I’ve always thought of myself to have eccentric tendencies; most of the time I have this veil of nonchalance about me. You can’t read the emotions on my face. If you didn’t know me you might think that I was pissed off with the world on a constant basis, in truth however I don’t even realise I’m doing it as I daydream and think about life, the world, and everything. Ten percent of the time, often when I’m alone, I find myself doing things that I wouldn’t if others were around.

I gave the little old lady behind the counter the money with a shit eating grin on my face.

‘What’re you going to wish for?’ said the old lady.
‘I’ll let you know’ I said back with childish enthusiasm.

I left the charity store and walked the ten minute journey home holding the rest of the shopping I had bought earlier. Mum was in the kitchen cooking dinner and my sister, Amy, was in the living room sitting quietly with her phone; messing around with twitter or tumblr. I set the shopping down on the counter in the kitchen and, at my Mum’s insistence, left it for her to pack away into the freezer and fridge. I showed her the rusty lamp and mimed rubbing it.

‘What’re you going to wish for?’ she said, word for word the same as the old lady.
‘I’ll let you know’ I said, doing the same with my reply.

I want to make it clear that I didn’t really think the lamp was going to work. Would you? I thought it would make for a good joke to show people now and again. At the same time whilst I played off the fact I didn’t really think it would work, there was still a chance that it could work and my ‘genie story’ could begin. It was worth found pounds to find out, at least.

I went into my room on the second floor of the house. I had the smallest room out of everyone else in the family. Not because I was the Harry Potter of the bunch but because I didn’t have a lot or need one of the larger rooms for my stuff. I led a pretty minimalist lifestyle, for an eighteen year old living in a first world country anyway; my room could just about fit my single bed which took up half of the space, whilst the rest was taken up by a clothes hanger and bedside table. It was messy, of course, I only cleaned my room once the mess reached a point where it was too noticeable to ignore.

I closed the door to my room, put a wedge on the inside to stop anyone from barraging inside (a tool which had helped in my masturbating intense youth -- which, thankfully, had subsided), and then I placed the little lamp on my lap. I looked down at the lamp and let the anticipation build for myself. As a child I had learned that waiting for something magical to happen was a good way of setting yourself up for disappointment. Now eighteen years old I used this exact phenomenon of anticipation to fuel the childish excitement within me. Feeling like I did at that moment before rubbing the lamp would have warranted buying the defunct lamp in the first place.

 I rubbed it.

Part Two: Where The Story Goes Full Kaufman

The bronze coating was cool to touch as I rubbed it for a good thirty seconds before realizing nothing was going to happen. With a playful grin I let the lamp fall onto my lap as I reclined on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. It looked like my genie story wasn’t about to begin after all. I felt the familiar childhood sting of anticipation being met with disappointment, which caused an amused smile to stretch across my face.

‘It was worth a shot’ I thought to myself.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that’ said a girl’s voice to my left.

I turned and looked to find a pair of pretty brown eyes looking right back at me. The eyes belonged to a girl, who appeared to be in her early twenties, her hair was navy blue and cut into a spikey bob. She wore a dogs collar on her throat.

I shot off the bed as if it were made of lava and grabbed hold of the door handle, the wedge jamming it shut from the inside, stopping me from leaving. The momentary pause was all I needed to rethink the situation and reevaluate the girl laying on my bed. She sat up and sat on the edge, a cheerful smile on her face as she looked up at me.

‘Hi’ she said ‘you rubbed the lamp and set me free -- go you!’ she said, raising her arms and whispering a sports crowd cheer.
I smiled and said hello back. My eyes scanned her body; along with the dog collar she had a whole late nineties rock chick thing going on. She wore a dark blue tank top, bra and black skinny jeans which had a tear in both kneecaps. She even wore converse trainers which looked worn and used.

‘Are you the genie?’ I said, releasing my grip on the door, noting how casual I was able to speak to the attractive girl, and more importantly genie, sat in front of me.

‘I’m ‘a’ genie’ she said ‘not ‘the’ genie’
‘You don’t really look like a genie’ I said.
‘Yeah, this is what I was wearing when I became the genie of the lamp back in the 90’s’ she said.
‘You didn’t just start as a genie?’ I said, the conversation flowing as I sat beside her. I felt comfortable and safe in her presence. She gave off a good vibe.

‘I was unlucky enough to find the lamp when the last mortal to use it wished for the old genie to be free’ she said ‘which ended up with me getting sucked into it and getting stuck with the job’

‘I’m sorry to hear that’ I said ‘that’s pretty fucked up. I’m not going to have to be a genie now, am I?’

‘Nah, you’re okay’ she said ‘you only get one wish so you would have to give it up to set me free’

That wasn’t good. I was no asshole and, even though I didn’t know this genie on any real personal level, knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that I’d let some girl be trapped in a lamp indefinitely.

‘So do you want me to set you free?’ I said, hoping that she declined my offer. She smiled and rested back on her elbows.

‘No thanks, being a genie is pretty awesome. When I’m in the lamp myself and all the other genies get to hang out in our own little pocket universe. We can make anything happen at any time. Its our own personal heaven’

I couldn’t keep the impressed look off my face.

‘So the lamps are like a network to another world?’ I said.
‘Pretty much, every so often we have to come out and grant a wish, which is pretty fun when we’re not lumped with assholes’ the genie sat up and looked me dead in the eyes ‘you’re not an asshole are you?’

Face bright red I eased away and told her no, I was definitely not one of those.

‘I offered to set you free with my only wish didn’t I?’ I said.
‘That’s true’ she said.
‘By the way, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but how come I only get one wish?’ I said.

The genie stood from the bed, standing over me, as she crossed her arms and did a funny little jig on the spot.

‘That’s the way its always been, Charlie’ she said.
‘You know my name?’
‘I know everything there is to know about you’

My stomach lurched and filled with butterflies.

‘Everything?’ I said.
‘Everything’ she said, stretching the word and smiling.
‘So you know about my...fetishes?’
‘Oh yeah’ she said, nodding and squinting her eyes ‘Your wish is going to be a good one too’

I didn’t like the idea of someone being inside my head and knowing what I was going to do before I did it. She could see the indignation on my face.

‘My name is Laura’ she said ‘You were about to ask’

She was right. I was about to ask. She was really fucking cool.

‘Before I ask for my wish to be granted can I ask a question?’ I said
‘We both know you will’
‘Well, I was wondering where Genie’s actually come from. Which religion is right? Are any of them right? Or are you some cosmic force which has been given some kind of sentience based on human thought about belief in the mystical?’

‘That last one was pretty specific’ she said, placing her hands in her pockets and leaning against the wall.

‘Yeah’ I said ‘I’ve given it some thought in the past. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I didn’t take this opportunity to ask. So, which is it?’

‘What if I told you that you weren’t ready to know?’ Laura said, a tad condescendingly.
‘I would tell you you’re full of shit’ I said
‘Fair enough’ she said.
‘Well? Am I right? Is it cosmic thought or is there a god?’ I said.

Laura scratched her scalp and bit her lip as she mulled over whether to tell me or not.
‘I’m going to tell you where we come from, not just genies but everyone and everything, and the only reason I’m going to tell you is because I know that you’re not going to freak out’

I said quietly, trying to show I was ready for this world defining answer which, perhaps, was more important than any wish.

‘You’re the creator of the real you who is writing this story about you right now. You’re a character in his story living out a fantasy’ she said, shrugging a little.

‘You’re saying I’m a fictional character written by the ‘real’ me?’
‘Yep’
‘Shit, that’s both really cool and fucked up at the same time. But if I’m writing my own story then that means the real me has my best interests in mind, right?’
‘He sure does’ Laura said.

The realization didn’t have much of a bite to it and didn’t really answer the question of the origin of the universe. Because something had to have created the ‘real’ me who had to had come from somewhere.

‘Cool’ I said, smiling ‘I’ll accept that, for the most part.You could be lying to me about that but in the end it doesn’t matter either way. If I am writing my own story then I guess I have my best interests in mind. Though if my life does start to get worse at least I’ll have somebody to blame’

I suspected that the news didn’t bother me as much as it should due to the ‘real’ me telling me how I should feel about it. It was a confusing circle of thought which ended up with me copying Laura’s shrug.

‘Ready to make your wish?’ she said, clapping her hands together like Mr. Miyagi.
‘Sure am’ I said, smirking at the idea that the real me had written my ideal fetish scenario for me to live out.

Thanks real me. (You’re welcome fictional me -- don’t worry, he can’t hear me).

Part Three: The Wish Is Finally Wished

I gave some thought as to what I wanted to wish for; since I was fourteen I had harbored a secret fetish to be a woman. To be hot and confident and sexy with effortless ease. Now was my time for that dream to come true fruition. Now, I’ve never been an ugly guy, like many male-to-female stories I’ve read online the guy who gets transformed into a hot girl is usually the definition of average. I’m a seven out of ten. I never really dressed all that well, usually wearing my brother’s hand-me-downs. Without going into inane detail let me tell you that I looked like a normal, white, eighteen year old geek.

‘Okay, Laura’ I began ‘I wish that I had the power to shapeshift into anything I can imagine and be able to transform back to normal without the risk of being stuck in the new form I have chosen. Added to this I want to be able to transform others the exact same way I can transform myself’

It was a long wish which needed two sentences. I was a little worried that the second sentence wouldn’t be included in the wish.

‘So?’ I said, licking my lips in anticipation.

Laura smiled and snapped her fingers.

‘Done’ she said ‘Your wish has been granted’
‘Even the second part?’
‘Even the second part’ she said, before waving goodbye as her body turned to a dark blue vapor which poured into the lamp, which rose up from my bed as if pulled by invisible strings and phased through my window without breaking the glass. I watched with amazement as the lamp shot off into the sky like a shooting star.

‘Awesome’ I said to myself in the sudden, thick silence.

For one dreaded moment I thought that I had imagined the whole thing, the doubts sinking into my heart and mind like wildfire. But I had a way of setting the doubt to rest. I would use my new power.

Part Four: Where Experimentation Is Had

I thought about changing my appearance as I stood in my bedroom. I had been inside with Laura for a good ten minutes by the time she left. Thankfully I lived in the sort of household where my mother wasn’t constantly checking on me and my siblings weren’t the sort to pester. I wondered if I would tell them about my power then quickly realized that I hadn’t even tried it yet. I kicked the door stopper out from its wedged spot beneath the door and hurried down the hall into the bathroom.

It was half six in the afternoon by this point as a drab, cloudy sky bathed the bathroom in grey. I pulled the cord to the lightswitch which splashed a warm, golden light around the small space. Excitement building in my chest I approached the large mirror above the sink and looked at my reflexion. Still normal.

Concentrating I gripped the rim of the sink and willed my head and body to become the female version of myself. I imagined the change to be as simple as pulling the cord to turn the bathroom light on.

And it was. And just as fast. In the blink of an eye I felt a wave of pins and needles shoot over my changing body as I kept my eyes trained on the mirror; first off I was a lot smaller than I was before. I had lost a foot in height, genetics which I had gained from my mother’s side as opposed to my Dad’s taller ones. My hair was still short and scruffy, but also had an oilyness to it which made it look far more stylish on this tomboy-ish girl who looked back at me with familiar blue eyes. In many ways not much had changed, I could still see the old me behind the shape of my cuter nose and my more expressive eyes. I still had a coating of acne my cheeks were chubby, like before, but overall the girl version of me was a little bit more attractive than the old me.

At eighteen years of age I had a modest B-Cup rack which was nestled beneath the t-shirt I already wore. It would seem my clothes hadn’t changed to fit the transformation. I concentrated specifically on that and willed for my clothes to change into the ‘female version’ of what I was wearing...nothing changed.

‘Shit’ I said in my new female voice which made me smile despite my annoyance at forgetting to add changing clothes into the wish. There was something comforting about not being able to change everything about my appearance however, keeping the change purely to myself was a nice touch that kept the whole wish grounded.

As I looked into the mirror I bit my bottom lip and grinned as I pulled off my shirt. It hurt my breasts (I had breasts!) to pull them through the tight hole in the shirt which was meant for guys only. I looked at my new breasts in the mirror, cupping then with my smaller, daintier hands, feeling their weight and perkiness, running my fingers over my tiny nipples. (I had tiny nipples as a guy too). They were sensitive but not in the way some male-to-female stories would have you think. I felt aroused and excited, but not enough to start furiously masturbating which seemed the go to choice in those stories.

My breasts were mounds of fat which looked and felt pretty good. They were on the small side however which really excited me as I looked into the mirror and nodded an ‘oh yeah’ at my reflection. I willed my breasts to grow my a whole cup size. They inflated like balloons in my hand as they swelled to be nice and full. They were heavier than I had expected. Could I go bigger? I didn’t feel like going into a drastic breast size just yet, not while a C-Cup was more than a handful already.

I turned sideways onto the mirror and noted how good my boobs looked on my trim body. I wasn’t happy with my height so I concentrated and made up the difference in my legs which became long and slender. My waist reached the rim of the sink, my feet growing several shoe sizes. My heart pounding with excitement I felt an unusual wetness grow between my legs. I knew what that meant but decided to ignore it for the time being. I placed my right foot on the bath and kicked off my shoes and socks.

I had a foot fetish. Looking down at my own, feminine foot which was now nice and large and perfectly shaped sent my imagination into overdrive. I willed the nails to become coral red on both feet. I flexed my toes and then arched my foot as if wearing very high heels, admiring the slight vaniness of it. You readers who don’t have a foot fetish might not understand the eroticism of it, but let me assure you it’s pretty fucking hot if you’re into that sort of thing.

Done with my feet for the moment I raised my hands to my face and inspected them. They were too small for my liking, I enlarged them whilst still retaining their femininity, also changing the nails to a coral red. I toyed with making my nails longer but decided to keep them nice and trimmed.

When I returned my attention to the mirror my body no longer reflected what I wanted to see on my face. It was easy to understand then the pang of wanting to change more about my appearance much the same way the people who wanted plastic surgery did. Mine however was free and ensured one hundred percent satisfaction.

I supported my breasts with one arm, enjoying their warm springiness as I did so, and made all the acne and blemishes leave my face. I added a rosiness to my cheeks and a sunken beauty to my eyes adding a slight coloring to my skin in the absence of make up. An eighteen year old with a killer face and body looked back at me. Her hair was still short and needed fixing, so I grew it out to shoulder length and changed it to a light shade of brown verging on blonde. Almost there.

With one last push I willed myself to age by seven whole years; becoming twenty five. The changes were just enough to satisfy my urge to become a woman as opposed to just a girl.

The perfect version of me that I had always fantasized about looked back at me with a childlike wonder, her thin lips pursed as she eyed herself up. We locked up, grinning.

‘Hello beautiful’ we said, our voice confident and sultry. ‘Cheeseburgers, teddy bears, eggs’ I said, enjoying the way these ordinary words sounded with my new voice. I giggled and held my hand over my mouth to stay quiet in case someone might hear.

‘This is fucking awesome’ I said, sounding like a twenty something hottie talking like the eighteen year old geek she really was inside.

Part Five: More Experimentation

‘Charlie!’ said my mother from the bottom of the stairs.

I opened my mouth to shout that I had heard her but just stopped myself before doing so. I took one last look at the beautiful me in the mirror, blew her a kiss, and told her I would see her later as I willed my body to change back to the old me. Back to normal, I put my shirt and socks on and then made my way downstairs where Mum and dinner ready for everyone. I ate in silence, my thoughts elsewhere as I thought of all the possibilities which could stem from my newfound power.

I considered changing something about my Mother, or my brother or sister. But the notion seemed repellent to me, it was a breach of their trust that I wasn’t going to break. I found myself making an almost Spider-Man like vow to use my power responsibly, or at least try it on people I thought were assholes. And although I felt like a special snowflake that I had won the lottery, it wasn’t too difficult to pretend that nothing had changed between the time I had left to buy groceries and now. I did however feel like I had entered into a performance state of mind as I excused myself from the table, took my plate into the kitchen to wash up, and then made my way back upstairs to the bathroom where I locked the door.

I turned and faced my reflection and snapped my fingers like I had seen Laura do when she granted my wish. A feeling like releasing used air from my lungs filled my body as I changed back into the beauty I had sculpted myself into before I was called to dinner.

I hadn’t bothered to take off my shirt as I found a lewd delight in watching the way my C-Cup breasts heaved beneath the fabric, lifting the bottom of the shirt. I snapped my fingers again and shrunk my body proportionally down to half my size giving my breasts and hips ample room to undress from my guy clothes. When I returned to my normal size I found myself wearing only my boxers to cover my pussy.

I pulled down my boxers and looked at the nubile folds along with the tuft of light brown hair which sat above my crotch. With a twitch of my head the hair receded until it looked newly shaved and hairless. I toyed with the yielding folds of my pussy for a minute, getting used to the new organ which I wasn’t sure would work like it was supposed to. What if my body only looked like a womans? The way a doll looks like a person but is in fact just a lump of pieced together plastic.

Snapping my boxers back I decided to put my query to the test; still full from dinner I pulled my boxers down to my ankles and sat on the toilet. I commanded myself to pee and did so instantly. It felt oddly normal and right, putting me at ease as I had to consciously will myself to stop peeing. Finished, I washed my hands and looked back at my reflexion in the mirror.

A slight boredom already itched at the fore of my thoughts. I wanted to do so much more, really push the boundaries of what I could and couldn’t do. Another part of me wanted to show off to everyone, who could I trust with my secret?

The doorbell rang. The suddenness of it caused my body to revert reflexively back to my old self.

‘Hello, Owen’ said my Mum as she opened the front door.
‘Hey, is Charlie in?’ said Owen in his usual gruff voice.

Owen would be perfect, I thought to myself.

‘I’ll be down in a sec!’ I said, getting dressed once again, also putting on the shoes I had left in the bathroom before heading down for dinner. Owen stood inside the main hallway as I descended the stairs. He was a large, beefy boy with a kind face and long, scraggly hair. I waved a little hello as we both went through the motions of saying ‘see you later’ to my parents and then walking out into the street.

Once or twice a week Owen would knock on my door and we would venture out to our usual spots dotted around the town. We enjoyed each other’s company and often got caught up in deep philosophical conversations or the usual stuff like what we had been up to since we last saw one another.

Right away he noticed something different about my demeanor. Owen was good at reading people.

‘You alright, man?’ he said as we walked.
‘Yeah’ I said, unable to hide the exuberant excitement welling up inside me.

We walked for a few seconds in silence as waited for me to spit it out.

‘Dude?’ I said
‘Yeah?’ he said
‘I’ve got something that I want to share with you. And this is like top secret stuff that you can’t tell anyone’

Owen slowed his walk to a snails pace.

‘We can’t talk here’ I said ‘we’ll go the park and I’ll show you there’
‘Show me?’ he said, voice gruff and a little uneasy. The sun had started to set as we neared the park.

The park was empty save for one or two joggers passing through. Owen and I both sat on the swings; rocking back and forth. Owen had been waiting for me to say something since I had told him something was up, he was unusually quiet as I stood and turned and faced him.

‘Alright I’ve got something I want to share with you’ I began
‘You haven’t got cancer or something have you?’ he said
‘No I haven’t got fucking cancer’ I said
‘So what is it, then? Are you gay?’
‘No I’m not fucking gay’
‘If you haven’t got cancer and you’re not gay, what the hell is it that you need to share with me?’

I tried to find the right words to explain it. ‘I, well, you see, I’ve-- oh fuck it’

I stepped a little further back from Owen and snapped my fingers, changing myself into the sculpted hottie I was in the bathroom who I know thought as the ‘ideal me 1.0’

Owen fell out of the swing, hitting his back against the dirt ground with a thud.

‘Dude are you alright?’ I said, motioning to help him.
‘What the fuck!’ he said, holding a hand up to stop me from approaching as he scrambled to his feet. He looked at me as if I were a complete stranger.

‘Change back’ he said, forcefully.

I snapped my fingers and shrank a little, returning to the old me.

‘Charlie?’ he said
‘Yeah?’ I said
‘Did you just transform into her?’
‘uh-huh’
‘how?’
‘Are you cool, first?’ I said, holding out my own hand, still wary if he might try to hit me in self-defense or something.

‘You’re not in any danger and this isn’t contagious’ I said ‘can you promise me you won’t lose your cool?’

Owen didn’t say anything at first. Instead he just looked at me, and then around the empty park before half-sitting-half-holding onto the swing.

‘Okay’ he said ‘I’ll be cool’