Bimbo Genie

Because of my Devotion--which is absolutely real, every time--these Masters think I'll be around forever. But then the second that third wish happens and I stick around to make sure it's all copacetic? I'm gone, back in the lamp.

"So," he says, openly eyeballing my tits. I present for him, obedient and happy. "Let's say I wish for a million bucks. What happens? A million deer overflow the apartment building?"

"No. We're not allowed to use puns anymore. That went out of vogue about a thousand years ago. Half the English language was built on the backs of sex-frustrated monks wishing for 'new nuns' to serve them."

"You're joking."

"I wish I was. Computer, that's mine. That Master didn't even know what it meant. He was not happy, believe me."

"Okay." He had finished his meal by now and was making a dessert out of my tits. I pushed my back up and out so that he could see them better, as is my duty and my pleasure. "Fuck. You're...fuck."

His hand went down to his Cock again under the table, slowly starting to stroke.

"May I?"

"Please, Master." My voice is lush with desire. "And you don't have to ask. If You want to stroke to me, I want You to stroke to me."

"You like it when I stroke my cock, Zanthia?"

"I love it, Master." My voice chokes up slightly. "I love it more than anything else, almost."

"What do you love more?"

"You, Master." My eyes are liquid need; I need him to believe me. "I love You more than anything else."

"Good girl."

I cum, right away and hard. I wasn't even touching myself, but that phrase fucks me up. Not expecting it at all, I feel a wave of Little Extras leaving me out of love for Master.

His dinner table, formerly a reformatted card table, is now made of solid oak and carved beautifully. The mother-of-pearl unpainted walls update with some trendy wainscoting. The window unit air conditioner that couldn't blow a fly off its path morphs into a powerful central A/C unit that would have cost more than Xavier's annual salary.

"Man, that's hot."

"Y-yes," I say, shakily.

"I want to keep asking you about wishes."

"Yes, Master."

"What are some of the dumb wishes you've gotten?"

"Oh you know..." slowly, my thoughts return to me. Master needs information, which means I need to help him. "...standard stuff. Like that million bucks one you mentioned? Okay, sure. But then they've got a million dollars hard cash in their home. That money takes up space. Hard to explain. Plus, it comes from somewhere. If I just created a million dollars? That creates inflation, and then it's not exactly a million dollars, so you have to make more, but then that means it's still not a million...you see?"

"Okay. So you steal it from other places."

"Yes. That's simplest."

"So how would I wish for a million dollars and it not be a hassle?"

"Well, first of all, I don't know if you've seen the economy? But a million dollars isn't even going to last you until retirement."

"Okay. Fine. A billion dollars." His Cock surges as he realizes it can happen; that there's no reason for him to think small time. "I want to be a billionaire. Or, fuck it, a trillionaire. How do I make that happen but...you know. Without having to run a trillion dollar company? Which I'd probably run into the ground. I barely know how to run my checkbook."

I think for a moment. "I guess we would make you the heir to a few different fortunes. Eliminate anyone who would ask questions about it or come after you. Eliminate the other potential heirs."

"Eliminate?" He looks pale.

"Only your happiness matters to me, Master. I have no issue wiping someone off the face of the planet if it means your wish comes true."

In point of fact, it makes me wet as fuck. Wielding power for him is all I want in this world, and there's no greater power than that over life and death.

He coughs a little, thinking. "A trillion dollar heir...that would be a lot of attention."

"More than likely."

"I don't really want to have to explain...you."

"Understandable."

I see the wheels of greed turning in his head. Men are predictable. Give them the most evil option imaginable, and encourage it, and they'll think their saints for suggesting something lesser. A trillion dollar inheritance with seventy people dead? Unheard of! Corrupt! Wicked!

But a seventy million dollar inheritance with three people dead? Well...now we're being reasonable!

"Maybe a really well-off person in the local area, though...someone old. So they're not missing too much."

You see?

"You're so smart, Master. I'd be happy to formulate a list for you..."

"Yes," he nods. "But later. I want to...I want to talk about Gwen."

I bite my lip and nod urgently. He's stroking harder now. I slide my lingerie bra top down and let him see the expanse of my sexy, full tits.

"Of course, Master. You want to fuck her."

He looks conflicted.

"Yes. But not just that. I want..."

"You want her to Love you."

He looks embarrassed. What a sweetie! Like I don't know that men treasure love above all else.

"Yes."

"It's all right," I coo, and moan a little when he strokes himself harder. "It's hot that you want her to love You. You want her to enjoy it, what we're going to do to her."

"Yes."

"You want her, even, to know that you made it happen and still be perfectly fine with it."

"U-ungh," he's stroking so hard now. "Yes. Yes. Fuck yes. That. I want her to know I'm fucking with her head but be so in love with me that it doesn't even matter to her."

Okay. So you remember me mentioning how I can't help myself? This is one of those times. I can feel his need. Feel his desire like it's my own desire, like it's my own need. Except I can't be fucked--this is the only way I can feel intimacy with my Masters. Giving them their wishes, their purest heart's desire.

I can't make him say anything. But I can beg. And encourage. And moan. And I'm super fucking hot so we all tend to lose our heads.

"You could wish that she's your lovey-dovey doting hard-crush girlfriend," I moan. My fingers deep in my cunt now. "Wish that she'll love you forever. No matter what you do. That she'll be young and hot and sexy the whole time you're together. That you'll be a hot, fuckable 'it' couple that everyone's jealous of."

I know he's jealous of her boyfriend. Jealous of all the boyfriends every "Gwen" in his life has ever had. He's idealized them in a way, made them more than what they are. His subconscious is screaming it at me--I just want to give him what he's always wanted.

"F-fuck," he moans. "Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah. I wish for that. Everything you just said. Make it so."

"Your wish is my command."

He and I both cum at the same time; just like before, I'm cumming because he does. He sprays all over me--or tries to, but it hits the barrier. There's a brief, magical moment when his thick load--well over a cup of it at this point, thanks to me--looks like it's actually going to cover my tits and face...and then it kind of splatters in front of me and down on the ground.

Dutifully, I clean it with a magicked-rag before it's an issue for him later. He uses the time to recover himself--which doesn't take long at all anymore.

We both look at each other in the stunned silence.

"Zanthia," he says, a little reproachful. "You said you wouldn't try to fuck me over. But now I'm one wish down, and..."

He has more to say, of course.

But there's a sudden, fervent, fevered knocking at the door.

"Xavier? Xavier baby? Let me in!"

We look at each other for a moment--I smile, raising an eyebrow and nodding for him to go take a look. Of course he does; of course he's already hard again. I may have helped him get there faster.

He's going to fuck his dream girl! Am I supposed to leave him hanging? So yes, I made his Cock more powerful than ever.

At the door, Gwen is there, and she's an absolute stunner. A completely breathtaking creature already; I can see why he's so taken with her. Before, when I scanned the building, I read her aura. I knew who she was--kind of vain, obsessed with working out and posting on her instagram, biology pre-med student, plans to stay with her boyfriend until marriage unless someone richer and more handsome came along--and I would have recognized her on any street.

But seeing her, I know completely why Xavier is jacking it nightly to her (and often in the morning too).

She's spectacular. Without me doing anything, she's dressed in a killer tight tartan skirt and thigh-high brown leather boots that make love to her legs all the way up to her thighs. She's effortlessly Gwenful with brilliantly big tits and thick, flowing dark hair that goes well down her back. There's something effervescent about her--a sparkle to her skin or eyes that makes her completely magnetic in the way that some girls have. I'm surprised her old loser boyfriend hasn't already proposed to her.

Oh well, too late for him.

She leaps into his arms, fully expecting him to catch her. Of course, with the way he's surprised by this, he'll let her drop...if I let him.

But I love seeing people in love, and little awkward moments just ruin first encounters. So I made him a little stronger and a little more agile.

Easily, Xavier lifts her up and slams her into the nearby wall, creating a rather massive Gwen-shaped hole that both of them ignore while their lips lock in sizzling fashion.

Okay, so, he's maybe more than a little bit stronger. Maybe he's strong enough to bench press a cadillac or two and never has to work out again for the rest of his life.

Maybe.

And maybe his Cock is extra fucking big now because that's hot as fuck and he'll never get tired of fucking so then I can watch him and Gwen fuck for as long as I like and cum to it the whole time.

Okay?

Maybe.

He lifts Gwen off the wall, barely noting the hole they've made--which I've already started repairing; it'll be replaced with much nicer material by the end of the hour--and moans into her mouth, kissing her hard and deep.

Okay. Okay. I made him a lot stronger. I couldn't help myself. He's so cute and so clearly into Gwen, and obviously she's mega into him because I made her that way.

And, yes, okay, I had to make her stronger and more durable and more agile too, but they're in love! She has to keep up! Could you imagine the horror show of a super strong fuckmachine like what Xavier suddenly is fucking a normal girl? She'd be pulverized.

Plus, I did say as part of his wish conditions that Gwen would stay super hot and young forever, like the entire time they were together, so obviously I had to do a bit of tinkering with her genetics. His, too. I mean, it's not fair if he wants to fuck his super hot and in-the-fuck-love-with-only-Him forever wife and he can't because he's old and infirm, right?

I get carried away, okay?

Carried away like Xavier does to Gwen, lifting her up with barely one hand--god, barely with one finger, I really made him ultra-strong--kicking the couch up sideways across the room until it's stacked on top of his loveseat and pushing her down on the carpet.

He rips her skirt off, spreading her legs out wide with such force that she yelps in surprise. She's ultra-flexible now, too. Within seconds, he's discarded his own clothes, and his giant Cock stands at attention between them. It drips hot precum, already ready to sink deep into her waiting, willing pussy.

"I love you, oh fuck," Gwen moans. "You're so strong. How are you so strong? I had no idea. I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Gwen. I always loved you. From the second I saw you."

Her eyes light up at this revelation; she couldn't be happier. She also couldn't tell you what his name was about thirty minutes ago, but this doesn't matter to her anymore. I'm re-writing her memories on autopilot, creating an entirely romantic epic staring her needy cunt, His Huge Cock, and this being the culmination of years of desire.

"Please..." she moans, grasping the air around his Cock. "You have to fuck me with that. Please. Please, baby?"

He lowers down onto his knees and hikes her legs up around his waist. Her ass touching his thighs. Then, groaning, hands roaming all over gloriously tight young body, he enters inside of her.

"O-o-oh my god!"

Gwen cums right away. Her mind has reached the singularity--she's living in a world of constant pleasure as Xavier slowly pushes his way inside her tight, willing, unprotected cunt.

"Do it," I whisper in my Master's ear. "Fuck her. Fuck her, darling. Fuck her pregnant."

"Ugh, yeah..." he groans, thrusting harder. "Fuck yeah..."

Gwen is rapturous. She pulls herself up by his steel pillar body, kissing him deeply. She experiences every part of pleasure that won't blow her brain out of commission for good (plenty of time for that later). Xavier fucks her harder, pounding her back down into the carpet.

"Oh god, Master," I moan, fingering my cunt and clit as hard as I can. "Oh god, yeah. Fuck her...fuck her..."

"Yes..." he groans, nodding. "Fuck yes. Gwen. Oh, fuck...oh fuck, Gwen...!"

He thrusts harder and harder. What started as a slow wave builds up to quick jackrabbit thrusts building up to a hard psychological need to cum inside the beautiful goddess who now can't stop proclaiming how much she loves him.

"I love you!" she moans. "I love you, baby! Oh fuck! Oh darling! Oh shit!"

If a man fucked me like he was fucking her--and god, I wish he would--I'd love him too. She's having so many orgasms per second that they don't even seem separate--but they definitely are. Her clit and cunt convulse, spasm uncontrollably, tightening and squeezing on his massive rod.

He could last for hours like this if he wanted, if he was aware--but this is the first time. And as such, he lasts a little less--because he's fucking the girl of his dreams and she's not only into it, but she'll obviously never be into anyone else ever for the rest of her life.

He buckles and bites her shoulder, slamming Gwen down and choking her in almost brutal fashion.

"You fucking take it," he growls at her. "You fucking take my cum!"

"Y-yes!" she screams through his hand, his choking. "Yes! Fuck yes!"

I cum when he cums, and probably in my immediate pleasure I make him more powerful somehow. That's kind of my M.O. But damned if I could say how. When my brain comes back online, I'm seeing Xavier unclench his jaw from her shoulder. He would have torn into the flesh of a lesser woman--to Gwen, he's just left a hot red hickey.

When he finally withdraws himself, he's still spurting cups and cups of cum. It's a nonstop fuck-fountain, and I Love It.

He whispers. "Thanks, Zanthia."

Gwen moans and grasps his Cock, stroking and starting to lick him clean.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Don't worry about it."

She looks at his Cock, already hard again. Her mouth drools. I can see the cognizance draining out of her eyes.

"Worry about what?"

* * * * *

A week later, and Xavier is still brooding over his last two wishes. Taking his time. I don't mind; it's giving me plenty of time for Little Extras.

He's living the life of a sex god sure enough, and I keep urgently and quietly making his life sexier.

Gwen has developed a kind of mental allergy for pants and a lot of her old, frumpier clothing. She lives now in tiny skirts, hot shorty shorts, skimpy tops, and lingerie.

Especially lingerie. It's almost all she wears when she's home, and if she wears anything else, it's like an oversized sweater meant purely to show off how tiny and busty she is. Her cunt is on constant overload, turned by Xavier's voice, smell, appearance, and even the thought of him--and she's so purely unalteringly in love with him that she has trouble thinking of anything else. She's already about to drop out of college. She's missed all her classes over the last week; anything more complicated than sucking his brilliant Cock makes her anxious and forgetful.

She's become a happy, urgently fuckbrained bimbo. Xavier is so turned on by her that he hardly notices most of the time.

She's out on the balcony right now, taking photos of herself in a bikini for her instagram. She's constantly badgering Xavier about going out to the beach so she can show off her tight gorgeous body for him. He's all for it, naturally, but it's the middle of winter.

Gwen might not be super-aware of what season it is. Or month. Or day.

Honestly, I'd be slightly surprised that she had the coordination to put on her swimsuit--it's the tricky kind with like eight different sexy criss-crossing straps--except she's not actually stupid. She's just pre-occupied with Cock.

Which, honestly, I sympathize with. I'm only growing more in love with Xavier's Cock by the second. He's watching Gwen post on her insta--she's up to two selfies a day and three hundred thousand followers--and stroking himself.

Because Xavier is stroking himself--his massive Cock sitting like a totem of masculinity in his lap--I'm fingering myself and kneeling before him, drooling and fantasizing. Making him a little harder..just a little longer...

"I almost want to wish she would stop doing that."

I look at Gwen, making a look that could kill feeble-hearted men. "What? Showing off?"

"No. That's hot. Just...being obsessed over her social media stuff. It's all she seems to care about. Isn't she like, going to be a doctor? She hasn't been to class since we've been together. Should I wish for her to focus?"

"She's focused on your Cock. I thought you'd be happy about that."

He's woken up every morning with a luxurious, lingerie-clad blowjob from the girl of his dreams for the last week. Thanks to me. Is he saying he's ungrateful?

"I'm definitely happy about that," he says. "It's just...you know. I don't want to be everything she likes. That's a lot of pressure."

I feel my anger dying down when he says how happy he is.

"To be someone she likes?"

"I mean. You know. I just want her to have her own thing going on and to really like my Cock. And I want her to like some of the things I like."

"You don't have to waste a wish on that."

"Really?"

I can tell he's getting serious now because he's stopped stroking. It makes me a little crazy, seeing his hand on his Cock but no strokes. Like a sneeze hiding out behind your eyes.

"She'll love you no matter what, remember? People can change behaviors. I mean, you could start slapping her around and her brain would reorganize itself to make her like it. That's how magic works."

"I'm not going to start slapping her around. Holy shit, what's wrong with you?"

He says that, but he starts stroking himself again. I can tell that kind of power turns him on. And to be honest, I wonder myself sometimes what's wrong with me. I can't blame that demon for everything.

I shrug. "It'd be hot if she liked it. If she's so in love with you that she's weeping and sucking you off and saying sorry that she made you angry. That's hot, right?"

"God. You're all fucked up." He shakes his head, unable to hide all the precum he's spurting from a living wish-giving sex goddess encouraging him to treat women like disposable, abusable objects. "I just wish--er. No. No. I don't wish. I just would like it if she liked what I like more."

I nod, going all googly-eyed at his Cock. His precum is just slightly slicker. Creates just slightly more suction. His hand shape makes it feel just slightly more like a wet, tight, hot cunt...

"What I'm saying is, just tell her. She'll love you no matter what. Tell her all of it. Tell her you want her to play videogames with you. Tell her you want her to call you Master in bed. Tell her you want to fuck her step-sister."