Drinking Scotch, Making Wishes

This story was written for the 750 Word Project 2024. Below this line are exactly 750 words:

It was surreal; me sitting here on my balcony talking to Ashmir like he was an old friend. Sure, we shared eighteen-year-old scotch over stories of times past, and I loved his Arabic accent.

It was just that he was... It was surreal in that... well, how do I explain?

I bought the old steamer trunk at a charity event. Two-hundred bucks to support the animal shelter where I had adopted the one-eyed Red Heeler named Roger nestled at my feet.

Buried at the bottom, under rags that used to be clothes, was a small lamp. Like from Aladdin.

Damned if when I rubbed it, Ashmir didn't appear.

Yeah, an actual genie, or Djin. Fucking hell.

We stood there for what felt like forever, just staring at each other. He was acclimating or some bullshit like that. I was confused and half scared out of my shorts.

"I think I need a drink." Was all I could think to say. Macallan had always been my go-to when I needed to cover serious ground and having an eons old Djin in my living room; yeah, that was serious ground.

Ashmir nodded. I poured.

It was the standard three wish thing from the fairy tales, but I had written about Djins and wishes before and knew to be cautious. There were caveats, ramifications, things I needed to be concerned about if I actually made a wish.

So, we talked. I mostly asked him questions about people he had granted wishes for before. Every so often, he would throw something subtle into the conversation, encouraging me, almost tricking me into making a wish of my own. Other times, he wasn't so subtle.

"Where else do you have to be?" I laughed.

"Point well made." He laughed with me, emptying his glass.

"It's good, isn't it?" I refilled his drink. "Shame we're going to empty the bottle. But drinking with friends is worth it."

"It is." Ashmir took the glass from my hand and cocked his head. "As long as you share it with friends, it will never be empty." Yup, the bottle was again as full as the day I brought it home from the store.

"Does that count as a wish?"

"We'll see." There was a glint in his eye. It was a gesture, but still a ploy. He had a job to do, after all. What did I know? Maybe there was a Djin convention somewhere, or a cute blonde in his little lamp I didn't know about.

I knew the dance had begun in earnest. The conversation was now about what I would wish. Ashmir had learned my ways and danced with me, letting me talk about the things I would want without committing. Security and happiness for my children without taking away the challenges that would make it worthwhile.

Financial security for myself. What would a long life look like? And the biggie, at least for me. How would it work to allow a man to experience life as a woman?

I told him about my decades-long struggle with dysphoria, and he just listened. I even postulated about building a character creator app for my computer that would allow me to manage various identities. Naturally, I would need an app on my phone to choose.

We went absurd, and then back to the real, laughing and drinking and discussing limitations both fact and fantasy.

"Worst part is, there's no way I can even know if it's what I really want, but that's any wish, isn't it?"

"You're a good person. Greed and ego always hold sway, but not with you. Perhaps I can grant you a trial. Stand up and disrobe."

I watched mesmerized as my reflection in the glass shifted and changed. My chest narrowed and breasts formed. My hips spread and my genitals morphed and changed. Long red hair flowed across my shoulders as pouty full lips spread beneath emerald, green eyes.

"What else would you need to know?" The glimmer in his eyes told me what he wanted as payment for his gift. I took his hand and led him to my bed.

Passion and fury met in my loins as Ashmir taught me the carnal joys of being a woman until, completely slaked, I fell asleep in his arms.

I awoke alone to what looked like a video game on his pillow; 'Character Creator 1000.' I laughed.

Attached was a simple note that read, "To long life and successful children. The scotch is on me."