Mason and the Genie

"You were more fun when I thought you weren't real," he complained.

Even questions about her very existence were met with obfuscation and metaphysical double-speak that meant nothing to him. She looked bothered by her inability to provide real answers. "I'm sorry, Master. I would wish that I could be more helpful, except djinn are not granted wishes."

Stuck with more questions than answers, Mason fell into a funk despite the sudden riches in his bank account. He felt the allure of wishing for happiness and rejected it. While he couldn't understand how her magic worked, he also grew fearful of its implications. If he wished for happiness, how would he feel if someone close to him died? Would he become unable to suffer the occasional bout of sadness that makes moments of joy so valuable?

He wasn't sure which he regretted more: wasting a wish on having camera sex with Sindee or not believing the genie was real after it had happened. Eventually, he let his conscience off the hook for "wasting" a wish on spending time with his virtual friend. His bank account proved that he hadn't wasted his second wish. Focusing on the here and now, he realized he needed to talk to his bank and find a lawyer. Maybe he could get away with "good decision making." He suggested as much to the Genie.

"To err is to be human, Master."

"And to forgive is divine," he replied, automatically finishing the famous quotation and thinking about Dave. "That was a nice flourish supplying my wish at Dave's expense."

The Genie smiled. "Karma matters, Master."

He smiled back at her. "Actually, it feels nice being back in touch with him. Despite his flaws, he's a great programmer and I respect his drive." He thought he detected her smile growing a bit larger.

"You're a good man, Master."

"No, I'm just a man," he said, rejecting her claim. He seldom felt particularly good or bad.

After a busy afternoon of phone calls and lots of internet research, evening fell, and he realized that he needed to eat. "Can I make you something? Do genies even eat?"

"Our needs are not the same as yours, Master," she smiled.

Thinking about the eyeful she had been given during their time together, Mason still felt ashamed. "I'm sorry about all the nudity and sex stuff."

"Lust is a joy reserved for humans, Master. We can witness it, but we cannot experience it. You make it look fun."

"But you lust to fulfill your purpose, don't you?" he proposed.

"Does the Earth lust to revolve around the sun, Master?"

Mason sighed, already missing the conversations they could have before he was convinced that she was real.

Sitting in front of the television, he ate his dinner while staring at the moving pictures on the screen without being engaged by the content. He enjoyed the quiet of his phone no longer ringing. Barring any stupid decisions on his part, he would never need to worry about money ever again. It had been a good wish, but could he top it? He chased his metaphorical tail while trying to imagine the good he could do with his remaining wish. Much of that grander good had already been dismissed, leaving him to do something that did not come naturally to him, he had to think more selfishly.

"Who knew having a wish could be so challenging?" he asked the genie. The television fascinated her. "Would you like to watch something different?"

"Your world is filled with magic, Master."

"I guess so," he said, mixing himself a drink. "I suppose I could wish for never having a hangover or to drink as much as I would like without getting drunk, right?"

"If you wish, Master."

He shrugged it away. Moderation could achieve the same results. So many of his whimsical wishes felt equally empty. For a short time, he considered wishing for something inconsequential. "Let's pretend that I wished for a snow cone," he mused. "What would happen to you?"

"I would be gone from your life forever, Master."

"Just like that?" he asked, imagining her vanishing in an instant. "Would I get to say good-bye, first?"

"That's not the way it works, Master. I serve until my purpose is done."

"But you don't cease to be, do you?"

"Perhaps one day, Master, but it is not for us to know the number of our days. That is true for both mortals and djinn."

"What if I find another bottle."

"It has never happened, Master, but I guess it could. Wishing to do so is the same as wishing for more wishes."

"And I suppose there's no promise that I would find another djinn like you." That suggestion did not receive a reply. He fell lost in thought until he was well past two drinks. Three would need to be his limit or else he might risk making a stupid wish. He found himself dwelling again on all the sex stuff that happened in front of her. "I guess sex is a popular wish?"

"It was your first wish, Master."

"Was it?" he asked. "Did I really wish for sex or something more?" The Genie did not offer a reply. In retrospect, he realized he had wished for a bit of normality in a world that had begun to feel very strange with the appearance of the genie. Surely, he had wound up looking like a horny pervert. "Did you like seeing all that? Was it fun for you?" After a day of non-answers, her reply surprised him.

"Yes, Master. Sex is fun." In that instance, her Halloween-like costume vanished. and she sat before him nude from head-to-toe. Her ample breasts looked firm to the touch without the fake feeling of implants. He appreciated the rosy color of her areolas and how firm her nipples appeared. He found it interesting that she had tan lines around her full breasts and across her lower half where her panties had been. He also found it very alluring. Those stark tan-lines reinforced that he was seeing private parts of her anatomy, places normally hidden from view. He noticed her lack of pubic hair and appreciated the novelty of that, too.

"You're teasing me," he realized.

"Your wish is my command, Master," she purred, moving off the coffee table and approaching him. Her breasts swayed as she moved. Her sly smile never faltered as she neared, and once she reached him, there was no doubt about her being a real entity. He inhaled the sweet aroma of her hair as she shook her head and moved those golden locks behind her neck. Guiding one of his hands, she invited him to discover how her breasts could feel both firm and soft at the same time. Reaching between his legs, she massaged the eager lump growing inside of his shorts. "I am bound by any wish you make, Master," she cooed, her breath moist and warm against his ear and neck. "But for a single wish, I could be your every desire until the end of your days."

As she had done earlier, she shifted into his lap without changing her appearance. She left room between them for his hard-on as she caressed his chest. When she reached for the bottom of his t-shirt, he didn't stop her as she eased it over his head.

"Think of it, Master—however you could ever want me." As if to illustrate her point, she clamped his thumb and finger around one of her nipples and made him squeeze the hard, sensitive tip of her tit. Her grip tightened until she winced and then, without easing his grip, she twisted and pulled his fingers away. It was rougher than anything Mason had ever done to a woman. While she looked in obvious pain, she gasped with pleasure.

"Is that how you like it?"

"It's only about you, Master. It's only about how you like it." After climbing out of his lap, she smiled at him before her grin turned into something cruel. "Take off those shorts," she demanded. There was nothing kind or gracious about how she had said it. It wasn't a request. It was clearly a demand that left Mason temporarily frozen in place with surprise. "You heard me!" she sharply insisted. "Now, Master!"

Startled by the ferocity of her tone, Mason suddenly became concerned about what might happen to him if he didn't do as she requested. He quickly shucked off his shorts. In his haste to cover his nudity that afternoon, his shorts were the only piece of clothing remaining on his body. He sat back and waited for another command before realizing what she was doing. "No," he said, despite already being naked. "That holds no appeal for me."

"Any way that you could possibly want me," she promised, her voice no longer that of a domineering Dominatrix. Back to sounding like herself, she turned to face the coffee table, bent over, and presented him with a view of her backside. "Any way at all." Reaching behind her back, she slipped a finger into her puckered asshole and moaned from the attention.

"Intriguing," he allowed, feeling a certain illicit pull at to particular idea.

"Anything you want, without judgment, Master," she replied, standing and turning. When she was facing him again, she sported a full hard-on much like his own while the rest of her remained as feminine as always. She stroked her hard cock while smiling at him. "It's okay if you want to suck it, Master. Or perhaps you'd like to bend over?"

"No, thank you," he grinned. "I don't roll that way."

"But you could, Master," she insisted, shaking her head as her hair changed from blonde to jet black and her erect penis suddenly vanished. At the same time, her skin darkened until she looked like someone from the Middle East, or at least how he imagined most people from the Middle East might appear. There was something vaguely cartoonish about her appearance as he noticed her breasts were smaller and her waist narrower than should be possible. Even her face had changed as she dropped to her knees in front of him and caressed his hard cock. "I can be all these things and more until the end of your days, Master." As if sealing the deal, her lips engulfed his cock for a single long, very tempting stroke of a blowjob.

When she lifted her head to smile at him, she had subtly changed back into the appearance she had been using since she first arrived. Shaking her head, she became a blonde again, too. She smiled before returning to his cock. She gave him several more strokes from her warm, wet mouth before looking at him.

"And you could be forever virile, Master. Always able to desire any form of me if that be your wish."

"Do I need to waste my last wish to get you to stop?" he asked, sorely tempted by her promises of unimaginable delight.

In a disorienting instant, she returned to sitting cross-legged on his coffee table, once more in her Halloween costume of billowy pants, jewel-encrusted bra, and with her ponytail pouring out of the top of her Fez.

"You are quite the temptress when you want to be, aren't you?" He fondled his hard cock, finding it damp from her oral attention. Tossing back the rest of his drink, he grinned at the twinkle in her eyes. "Something tells me that you like seeing me naked."

Rather than shoot him down, she only smiled. From experience, he knew better than to try using her as inspiration for more of a thrill. Instead, he accepted it as an invitation to be himself and stayed that way for the rest of his evening. Why not? He genuinely preferred to sleep nude, too. In the back of his alcohol-impaired mind, he had a vague sensation that the genie knew what she was doing and that she was working on levels invisible to him.

He woke without a hangover thanks to his moderation the night before. Three drinks could give him a pleasant buzz without ruining his morning. He greeted the genie and she replied with a reminder. "You still have one wish remaining, Master."

"I hope you truly enjoy running," he replied, taking care of his morning business and dressing for a run. She kept pace with him without comment as he ran his usual route without all the interruptions. As before, she appeared in the shower with him. The sensation of soaping his shaved body parts intrigued him and created a rise that he ignored. Today was Tuesday, a day of abstinence. He regretted not taking advantage of last night's thrill, even if he would have had to do it without the assistance of the genie unless he had wanted to waste another wish.

Calling into work, he cashed in another sick day without finding the strength to resign his position. Sooner or later, he would need to address that situation. Without the need to work, did he still want the distraction and the obligations that went along with it? Instead of earning a paycheck, he spent the day meeting in person with different financial counselors. The genie remained a constant presence, unseen by anyone except him. She regularly made wish suggestions and some of them were enticing. Mason did his best to ignore her in front of others.

"You're getting to be a pest," he told her while driving home from a meeting.

"One more wish, Master, and I'm gone forever."

"Or bound to me for the rest of my days," he countered, thinking about her multiple offers of sexual pleasures. Could he write a wish-program that would describe the kind of woman he wanted as a partner until the end of his days? Intrigued by the thought exercise, he began composing one in his mind. As soon as he got home, he opened his ANSI editing program and started listing conditions.

Thinking about a life partner fascinated him in its detail with the easiest part being the sex. The genie had demonstrated her abilities to transform into anyone he would desire, a fascinating novelty, but would it remain important to him in another twenty, thirty, or forty years? He thought about his addiction to Sindee for clues. He enjoyed her ever-changing hair color and sassy attitude. If he were married to her for life, would she keep changing her hair color? And, if she did, when would the novelty turn into a nuisance?

He thought about other relationships, too. He didn't need a co-dependent life partner or someone so independent that his opinion never mattered. He wanted someone who would celebrate him and who would allow him to celebrate her, too.

He got stuck wondering if financial independence would be important or not. He didn't want a gold-digger, attracted more to his wealth than to him. Then again, he could afford to shower her with gifts. He had a friend in college whose girlfriend had insisted on a three-thousand-dollar engagement ring. He had no idea how Matt had afforded that ring. He remembered how foolish it had felt when Matt and Susie had to delay their nuptials because they couldn't afford the wedding she thought she deserved. Then he compared Matt's foolishness to Stan, the owner of the company where he worked. Stan regularly bought his wife diamonds. The difference was he could afford it.

Mason got stuck on the concepts of randomness and personal growth. He didn't want a "yes-man" as a wife. He wanted a strong, independent woman who would grow and change as they moved through their lives together—even if that came with the risk of them growing apart. Could the genie-made-flesh adapt to that? Could she grow and change? Did that even matter?

The genie remained remarkably quiet as he worked. She answered some of his questions. "Would you age with me?" She assured him that she would appear to age at any rate he wanted. He liked the idea of her being a very youthful forty, fifty, or sixty.

Stuck with over-analyzing the problem, he abandoned his computer for the glow of his TV. On a whim, he held out his remote to the genie. "Do you know how to work one of these?"

"It's like a magic wand, Master."

"I suppose so," he grinned. "Why don't you pick something for us to watch tonight?"

"I'm not sure that I can, Master," she said, reaching for the controller and smiling when she was able to accept it. Aiming it at the TV, she giggled as it sprang to life. After scrolling through the channels, she landed on a movie from 1985, Weird Science. Mason made popcorn in the microwave (more modern magic to her) and offered her some. "I don't need nourishment, Master."

"Trust me, this isn't nourishment," he laughed, watching her expression as she experimentally tried a single popped kernel.

"Oh! This is good, Master! Thank you!"

He invited her to share his chair and sandwiched together, they enjoyed the movie and popcorn. Mason immediately saw the parallels between the boys in the movie trying to build the perfect woman and what he had been trying to do. "Did you know what this movie was about when you picked it?"

"No, Master, I swear. I just like science." She laughed at the hijinx and the world-gone-wrong mishaps from the boys' creation. Mason enjoyed the music of her laughter and made a mental note to include a sense of humor on his list of attributes.

When the movie ended, Mason let her turn off the TV before heading to bed. He brushed his teeth before stripping nude. As he climbed into the bed, the genie sat on his dresser. "If you want to watch TV while I sleep, you may."

She beamed a big smile even as she rejected his offer. "I'm fine, Master. This is where I belong."

"As you wish," he grinned, rolling over and falling asleep to thoughts of algorithms and IF/THEN clauses that might describe the perfect life partner. He woke with the same thoughts on his mind.

The genie joined him in the shower, magically floating just out of the spray of the water and watching him with that ever-present smile in place. He noticed the prickly sensation of his pubic hair beginning to grow back and decided he wasn't done yet with the novelty of being shaved smooth down there. He couldn't ignore the genie watching him or the impact it had on his arousal level. He stared at her while caressing his hard-on. "I thought this wasn't allowed."

She shrugged. "Without a wish, Master, you're only frustrating yourself."

"Maybe I like feeling a little frustrated." While that was a true statement, he abandoned doing anything more. He had a date tonight, even if it was virtual, it still felt like a date with a girl that he really liked.

He dressed for work after committing himself to go into the office and requesting an extended leave of absence until he reached a final decision about whether he would keep his job or not. The genie rode with him and followed alongside as he passed the cubicles filled with programmers trying to solve problems. Unlike big shops in Silicon Valley, his workplace didn't include novel play areas or a resident chef. He walked past his office while remembering how good it felt the day he left the cubicle floor and earned a real office. That had been a good day.

Stan noticed him and met him on the floor. "The prodigal son returns! Feeling better?"

"Yes and no," Mason said, feeling a stab of heartbreak. Maybe he wouldn't give up his job after all. "I still need some time and I'm not sure how long."

Worried creased Stan's brow as he tried leading Mason into his office. "It's because of Sutterfield, isn't it? I should have never given him your number."

Mason resisted the nudge from a hand on his back. "Not really," he said when a very different idea occurred to him. Patting Stan on the back, Mason did the nudging as they went into Stan's after all. "Let's talk business."

Without giving details about how he could afford it, Mason proposed becoming a partner in the business. Stan looked stunned. "Did Sutterfield put you up to this?"

"Up to what?"

"David Sutterfield is trying to buy the company. He's made an offer that's very tempting."

"Is that what you want?"

Stan stared in the general direction of the genie without seeing her. He nodded towards the cubicle farm outside his doors. "What I want and what's best for those guys may not be the same thing."

"Dave doesn't know we're having this conversation. Give me two weeks before you make a decision," Mason insisted. "I think I know best what the team really wants."

"What they want are raises, a better server, maybe an office for everyone . . ." Stan said, making up a list right on the spot that matched the one Mason had in mind. He liked that Stan stayed in touch with his programming team as closely as he did with his sales team.