Mark's Genie

Spoiler alert: In the Genie series, adversity sometimes pops up before a satisfying climax is likely to be reached by Mark, the story, or the reader. If this strikes you as weird or unlikely to be fun, I bet you can find other stories that are more likely to scratch your itch. If tempted to mull what might happen to any of us, if given an independent-minded genie, read on!

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Mark looked at the elderly man and smiled. "I can get anything I want? That's crazy."

The elderly man smiled. "You'd be crazy to believe if it's not true. You'd be crazy to not believe if it is true."

"And I can have as many wishes as I want? No restrictions?"

"There are no restrictions on what you might wish for. There are restrictions on what I will provide."

Mark mulled things over. The old man had popped into his dorm room, without warning, appearing out of thin air. It was noon on a Tuesday. He hadn't smoked weed since the weekend, so he wasn't high. He didn't think he was psychotic. He looked around his dorm room and focused on a pile of clean clothes that had been sitting in his laundry basket for a couple of days.

"Would you mind folding those clothes?"

The elderly man walked over to the pile, picked up a wrinkled blue t-shirt, and carefully folded it.

"Jesus," Mark said. "Are you a genie or a maid?"

The elderly man looked back quietly.

Mark seemed confused. "How come you're not saying anything?" Mark was 21, and with his shaggy brown hair and freckles, he looked a bit younger. Aside from his sarcasm and impatience, he was an appealing if nondescript young man. "Cat got your fucking tongue?"

"If you ask me to 'fold the clothes,' I might try to do so. If you say, 'I wish for all the clothes to get folded,' and we then confirm that such is your actual wish, you'll get a response."

"Ok, Genie, I wish for all these clothes to get folded and put on my dresser."

"Mark, are you sure?"

"Yes."

Instantly, a huge stack of clothes appeared on his dresser. The stack included his clean clothes from the laundry basket, as well as dirty clothes from the floor of his closet, and all of his roommate's clothes, and all of their clothes from both closets, and all the clothes that Mark was wearing.

Mark looked down at his naked self and glared at the genie.

"What the hell? I said to fold my clothes, not all the clothes in the room."

"It is perhaps fortunate," the man began, "that my power and imagination are limited, or else all clothes the world over would be folded, and all its people would now be naked."

Mark sighed. "Ok, I wish for everything to be put back the way it was."

"Are you sure?"

Mark nodded.

The room returned to its former state.

At that moment, the door to his dorm room opened. In walked Joe and Jo, hand in hand. The name coincidence always made Mark smile, but this time, he smiled because he was looking at Jo in a whole new way.

Mark sat at his desk, while Joe and a Joe sat on Joe's bed. Chit chat. Mark noticed the genie had disappeared.

He also noticed Jo had dimples when she smiled. An athletic, self-contained freshman, Jo had light brown hair that was cut fairly short. She and Joe returned to their previous activity: sharing ear buds and listening to hipster music. Their heads nearly touched.

Joe was entertainment editor of the university's newspaper, which gave him an excuse to attend a lot of concerts and hang out with aspiring singer songwriters, like Jo.

Knowing they were listening to music, Mark whispered, "I wish to know if Jo is wearing a bra."

"Are you sure?" The genie's voice seemed to be coming from inside his head. Its tone was a little skeptical, as if questioning whether--amongst all of the possibilities available to him--this query was most compelling. Mark shrugged off that concern; genies, he thought, don't get to be skeptical. He nodded.

"Yes, she is wearing a bra," said the old man's voice.

Mark mulled over his situation. Anything? Hmmm. Mark looked at Jo, sitting comfortably cross legged on his roommate's twin bed. He looked at her mouth, which had sung a couple of sweet Joni Mitchell songs at the campus bar's "Evening of 1968." She had a clear-eyed, earnest, never-had-an-alcoholic-beverage kind of hotness. She'd never been at all flirtatious with him, but she wasn't particularly stuck up or bitchy. With solid justification, she appeared to have quickly concluded that Mark was just another guy, full of hormones and not full of depth.

Mark could think of no reason that he should use his new powers on someone who wouldn't like to be used, and who'd done nothing wrong, and who seemed nice.

But, he thought to himself, she's cute, and I can get away with it.

He whispered, "Genie, I wish to freeze Joe and Jo. I'd like them to stay frozen until I say they can wake up."

The internal voice asked, "are you sure?"

"Yes," he answered.

Mark looked, and, sure enough, they were frozen, and their eyes were shut. He walked over to Joe's bed. He waved his hand, no response. He bent in close to Jo and could hear the shallowest of breathing. He reached down and felt her left breast. "Awesome," he thought.

He felt the other breast. Also awesome, though he became aware that it was difficult to differentiate shirt, bra, and boob. Mark started to pull of Jo's shirt. Her body was not entirely rigid, but it also wasn't helping. With some effort, he was able to get one of her arms free.

He pulled off Jo's shirt. Gorgeous.

While worrying with the clasp on Jo's bra, it occurred to him that he hadn't asked how he'd come to warrant a genie. He'd found no lamp. Done no deed, good or evil. Signed no contract. Been the victim of no experiment gone wrong. And he was certainly not some quirky genius in biology, neurology, chemistry, computers, or whatever. No, Mark was a 30th percentile sort of scientist and adventurer. To get his genie, he hadn't even left his room. He'd figure that out later. He had other fish to fry.

Mark was stymied by the mysteries of the bra clasp. Suddenly, he noticed that the genie had returned to physical form and was standing near the doorway. Mark could tell he was old and wearing some sort of suit, but the details were indistinct. It occurred to Mark he wouldn't be able to pick the guy out of a lineup.

Only slightly embarrassed by having the old guy watch him flail with the bra, Mark had new instructions: "Genie! Glad you're back. I wish you to get rid of Jo's bra and transport her to my bed. Oh, and while you're at it, just make her naked." Remembering the clothes debacle, he added, "I'm talking about Jo, that's J-O not J-O-E. Oh, and I wish for her to not remember anything from the period in which she's frozen."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Instantly, he saw that Jo was face-up was in his bed, sheets to her neck. She looked peacefully asleep. Awesome.

Mark noticed a coffee stain on the pillowcase. How many weeks since he'd washed them? Jo wouldn't like stained sheets.

"Genie, I wish for my sheets to be clean."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

No more coffee stain. Mark smiled and whispered to himself, "I'm never doing laundry again in my life! Awesome!"

He kneeled next to Jo. Her nostrils flared the slightest bit as she breathed in slowly, out slowly. He touched her cheek. Warm. She had some slight freckles on her cheeks. She was wearing mascara; he hadn't previously noticed that she wore makeup. He'd never been so close before.

She had a zit on her nose.

"Genie, I wish for Jo's pimple to disappear and for her to get no zits ever again. No, wait, no need to get freaky. I wish her to get only 10% of the pimples she'd have otherwise gotten."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Mark watched the blemish seem to melt. He touched her nose. Amazing. He considered putting her clothes back on and sending her back to Joe's bed. She was only a freshman, and she was sweet, and Joe seemed to think he was her first boyfriend. Asleep, or frozen, or whatever state this was, she looked young and defenseless. And he wasn't so clear on how this whole thing worked. Surely he could find someone more appropriate.

On the other hand, his dick was really, really hard. Plus, she wouldn't remember anything.

Mostly, Mark was deciding that this was the greatest single sexual opportunity of his lifetime, and he saw no downside. He'd never had a serious girlfriend, and here was someone completely willing and eager. Well, "willing" seemed a stretch, as was "eager." Hmmm, "cooperative," maybe, but, as she lay there in some sort of sleep/trance, he was fine with her simply not objecting.

Mark had gone on dates and gone to parties and had lucked into the occasional blow job and fuck, but those gropings had always been rushed and furtive. The girls had seemed reluctant or intoxicated, or both. His focus had been on exciting them enough for them to put out, and he knew that some had expressed regret afterwards. But he'd never doped anybody, or physically overpowered anybody. He'd never schemed or targeted. His sexual interludes had hardly been pure, but they'd mostly been random, rushed, and opportunistic.

Porn was much the same. Sure, he knew that the women of porn fell into just a few camps. There were the sexually trafficked. There were the humiliated ex-girlfriends and celebrities. There were the victims of voyeurism. But he liked to think that many got a kick out of having people look at them, either naked or having sex. And he knew his brain well enough that he could compartmentalize. He could separate out body parts: nice tits, nice pussy. He hadn't really thought about it, but objectification was okay by him, and in the heat of that moment, he wasn't really thinking about the inner psychological workings of himself, much less the young woman lying in his bed.

Instead, his thoughts had reached the sort of zen-like simplicity yearned for by mystics the world over. In his case, Mark's circuitry could be summarized: I'm hard as a rock. She's beautiful and available. Nothing can go wrong. I'm hard as a rock. She's beautiful....

While still mulling over this win/win situation, Mark pulled down the sheets, as if he'd find more of life's answers by looking more closely at Jo's neck. He watched her carotid artery as it slowly pulsed. Her skin seemed almost translucent, and--thanks to Mark's recent generosity--without blemish. Two small moles above her left clavicle. More faint freckles on her shoulders. He pulled the sheet down further and held his breath past the swell of her chest. He pulled the sheets down past her pale pink nipples, which were puffy and soft. He pulled the sheet down to her belly button, which sported a clean gold hoop. She seemed relaxed and calm. Oh my God, he thought to himself, she has a perfect body.

Jo's only movements remained the tantalizingly slow rise and fall of her magnificent chest and the sturdy throb of the carotid artery.

Mark remembered the the genie. He turned and made eye contact. "Quit looking at me. You make me nervous. Can I ask you to disappear?"

"Can I disappear? Yes," and the genie vanished.

Mark bent down to explore Jo's left breast. Amazing. He sucked on one nipple, then the other. He hefted one medium sized teenage breast, then the other. He pulled the covers all the way off the bed. He looked carefully at her pussy. Neatly trimmed hair. He pulled apart her legs, looked carefully at her pink slit, gave it a lick. He took off all of his clothes and lay back down, with his mouth against hers. She smelled fresh. He rubbed his dick against her leg. He pulled harder on a nipple, twisting it. He reached down and again sucked on a nipple. She didn't move.

He lowered himself back down her body. He licked her pussy lips, which tasted, well, neutral. Like she'd just taken a shower. He looked closely and slid his tongue along her labia. Smooth. He inserted a finger. Tough sledding. She was very tight, very dry. He added a liberal amount of spit. He tried to insert a finger. She didn't move, and the finger barely wedged itself in. This was awesome, but she wasn't reacting at all. It was like messing with a real life, motionless, beautiful blow up doll.

"Genie, I wish for Jo, that's J-O, to get sexually aroused. Really excited, but stay asleep."

Instantly, the genie reappeared. He looked at Mark. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And, I also wish for you to stay invisible until I call for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Mark's finger probed Jo's pussy. "God," he said out loud, "you're getting wet." She began to hump his leg. She grabbed him into a bear hug. Her eyes remained closed. Mark thought he was going crazy. He wanted to fuck her so badly. He kissed her mouth and looking into closed and unseeing eyes. Despite a beautiful young woman writhing against him, he found himself losing his erection.

"Genie," he breathed out unsteadily, "I wish for Jo to wake up in a foggy state. She'll be incredibly aroused and attracted to me. She will want nothing more than to blow me. It'll be intense, like she'll die if she can't suck me. And she'll die if she doesn't cum. And she'll know that she can't cum until I cum." He thought back to some previous prematurity issues. "Oh, and I'll stay hard and be able to cum whenever I want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Jo opened her eyes and kissed him. She didn't appear to be focusing. Mark looked into her eyes. It was like she was in a trance or really drunk. Nevertheless, she kissed her way down his body and started to intently suck his dick. Mark decided this was heaven. Or almost heaven. Her skills weren't the best.

"Genie," he began, "have Jo not use any teeth. I want her to try to suck me further down her throat. She will grow more and more excited, more excited than she's ever been. Make sure she stays hydrated so she has plenty of spit." He paused, while lacing his fingers through Jo's short brown hair. "Have her kinda awake but all of her thoughts be only about sex and what it means to have sex with me. Also, after blowing me for a little bit, she should pull herself away, and say the nastiest things she can think of before returning to her biggest passion in the world, which is my dick."

Mark looked at his roommate, Joe, unmoving on his bed, and then at the doorway. He'd almost forgotten that he was in his college dorm. "Oh, and when she talks or makes any noise, she needs to whisper so that nobody outside the room can hear. He paused while watching her bob up an down. "Oh, and while you're at it, give me a huge dick, bigger than any dick on campus."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Actually as big, no make it bigger, than the dick of any student or professor since the school was founded in.... genie, what year was it founded?"

"Uhm, Mark, I'm happy to discuss university history with you, but let's stay focused. One thing at a time. You have endless choices that could involve any issue on the planet, and you have come down to an interrelated cluster of wishes: You want a really massive penis. You want this very sweet girl to believe she'll die if she doesn't cum by making you cum, and you can control your cumming and hardness indefinitely, and you'd like to do this in your dorm room with her boyfriend a few feet away."

"Right, exactly. The part about the boyfriend is not part of my fantasy. Don't make him disappear or die, just keep him the way he is, frozen. And keep his eyes shut. It'd be freaky if they opened."

"Got it."

Instantly, Jo pulled herself from him and stared. Her eyes were glazed. A gossamer-thin trail of spit ran from her mouth to the enormous phallus which her fingers were holding onto, as if for life. Her fingers couldn't go all the way around, and she was gently squeezing. "Amazing," she whispered.

Amazing was right. Mark stared at his new dick. Jesus. Twice as long as his old dick, it was remarkably thick and hard. He'd never seen anything quite like it, even in porn.

"Your cock is amazing," she said dreamily. "Amazing. All I want is to suck that enormous cock until you explode." While she was whispering to him, Mark noticed the fingers of her left hand were gently circling her pussy.

She looked back at his new cock. She looked like she was going to faint. She kissed it. Licked it. She opened her mouth and tried to force it in.

Unfortunately, she couldn't get her mouth past the swollen head of his cock. Mark saw her try, and try again, but the head was just too big for her to make much headway. She was making desperate, whimpering sounds, like a large rodent in heat. Mark mulled over this problem. Jo was thin and small, maybe 5'2", though he never really knew how tall people were. And he'd never considered how big someone's mouth was.

"Genie, I wish for Jo's mouth and throat to grow enough to happily and comfortably swallow my dick."

"Are you sure?"

Mark paused.

He wondered if Jo's face would morph into some sort of twisted horror show.

"Uhm, no. Skip that. I want Jo to be able to deep throat me, and for it to be totally comfortable for her. Make me the right size for that."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Mark watched his cock closely. One second, it was so enormous that a desperately horny 18 year old could barely hold it with both hands, couldn't even get the head into her mouth. And then, whoosh, the entire cock disappeared down her throat. Excellent, he thought. A win all around. He watched Jo's carotid artery pulsate.

Jo's mouth pulled away from the cock. She took a look, appearing confused. Mark also looked at his dick. He was horrified. After a decade of gaining hard-earned expertise in his own regular-sized penis, and then having enjoyed a few minutes of being attached to the sort of penis that belongs in a museum of medical novelties, he was suddenly the proud owner of quite a small dick. It was rock hard but maybe the size of Jo's pinky finger. He wondered--as Jo returned to sucking him--at what point a small dick became a micropenis, because, instead of of having the biggest cock on campus, he was feeling fairly confident he now sported the smallest.

"God, Mark," Jo said, taking her break to talk dirty. "Your cock is so sweet. It's like a tiny, cute appetizer at a fancy party. I want to curl my tongue around it and slide it around. I want to use it for floss. I want them to make candy in the shape of your dick. I want to make it into a children's toy. Mmmm."

She returned to the blowjob.

"Genie."

"Yes, Mark."

"Give me back my huge cock. Make it 15% smaller that it was 5 minutes ago. "

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Mark watched as Jo's mouth seemed to extrude thick cock. Within a few seconds, and with a wet plop, he'd pulled entirely out of her mouth. He followed her dull gaze as she looked at his hard dick, which was still huge but within the realm of the possible. "Oh my God, Mark, you have amazing control." She looked at him. "How did you do that?" She slid his cock into her mouth, able to slide in a few inches. She bobbed back and forth. Ordinarily, he would have already cum, and he loved knowing that he could make this experience last indefinitely.

Mark watched her fingers work around her clit and then piston into her pussy. She followed his eyes. She seemed about to cry as she fucked herself, as her wet pussy slid around her rigid fingers, as her sex smell permeated the room.

She seemed desperately aroused, which thrilled Mark even as he knew that his command had been that she'd feel like she was going to die if she she couldn't cum, and she couldn't cum until he did. His huge cock throbbed, and Mark smiled at his own power and self control.

Jo pulled away from Mark's cock, as if regretfully. Thick spit hung from her lips. Her voice began to spout words and phrases as if she'd been taken over by a pervy doppelgänger. "You like to watch me fuck my own slit? I bet you do. I bet you'd like for your huge cock to just destroy my pretty little pussy. I bet you would." She rubbed his cock across her face and looked him blearily in the eye. "You like watching your slut?" She smiled vacantly and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I'll do anything, Mark, just let me cum."