The Genie Who Wanted to Be a Girl

------------- Prelude: Very early, about the 6^th or 7^th Century AD ----------------------

From the sparse artifacts and record fragments it can be determined that, of the small group of genie trainees graduating in this one class, most had absorbed the information and direction well, yet there remained a thread of individualism in each. Some were more pliable, other more impetuous, given to act first and think later, some, especially a couple of the girl genies, were anxious to please and seeking to become the best and most welcomed genies they could be.

An existence with little else than subjugation and servitude in the future was not really all that thrilling to some, but the world of their day offered little encouragement and, especially for a woman or a girl in a region overrun by one conqueror after another, security and stability were commodities altogether out of reach. Exposed to such conditions in their training, genies typically chose their fate as the less strenuous and demeaning of the two.

Precisely what differentiates genies from humans remains obscure. Physically and psychologically, the two seem almost identical. Little on the topic has survived in the record, and it seems reasonable to conjecture that they are related in ways of which we have little knowledge. The data is too sparse to be more definite than that.

At any rate, their individualism notwithstanding and some more ready than others, the graduates were designated fourth rate genies and sent off to their various assignments.

------------------ Much Further Along, Late in the 20^th Century ---------------------

They had been on the beach now about two hours, he figured, and had explored in sufficient scope and detail for his report, and his notebook was full of sketches after they had conferred. They were the ship's beach intelligence team, and doing beach intelligence surveys was part of their work. Their ship was a U. S. Navy amphibious warship and would act as primary control vessel for any amphibious assault landings by the U. S. SIXTH Fleet Amphibious Ready Group then deployed in the Mediterranean Sea. They could put a reinforced battalion of combat ready Marines ashore just about anywhere they wanted and whenever ordered by the admiral in London.

These surveys and the resulting reports allowed the staff in London to keep good tabs on beach conditions in the Med, and included a whole lot of detail about beach gradients, ability of the sand to support heavy tracked vehicles, foreshore and backshore conditions, egress routes off the beach, access to local roads, prominent structures, local landmarks, etc., and a pot load of similar technical details. After a number of exploratory beachings in the ship's own LCVP, a small landing craft, his team had pretty much gathered up what they needed. For precise navigation, the quartermaster had checked a number of local landmarks against the most detailed chart, the two Marine sergeants, the boatswains mate, and his leading signalman had hiked all around to map out logical sites for troop assembly, strong points to be established, a command post and signal station, and supply dumps. They had done this now a third time on this deployment, this time on a sparsely populated beach in Greece. Another two weeks and they would turnover to the relieving Ready Group, probably at Rota, on Spain's Atlantic coast, and head for the Chesapeake and home.

Returning from a short walk along the water, studying the composition of the coarse sand, he happened upon a small jug or bottle at the water's edge. He thought it appeared very old, like some antique; it was not more than a hand's breadth high, round, with a flat bottom and a fluted neck with some kind of plug or stopper in the opening. The jug's surface was badly corroded, but seemed to be of a very durable material; metal, he thought, from the appearance and heft, and especially the sound as he tapped on it. It seemed attractive and quaint, and, rolling it about in his hand carefully, it felt like something that would be a nice keepsake of these two extended deployments to the Med. He figured he would not likely be back again, as he had orders off the ship when they returned to the States. This interesting little jug would be a clever conversation piece on his desk, he thought to himself, washed off the sand, tucked it in the right hand pocket of his foul weather jacket, and turned back to close the distance to the boat where the others were gathering.

"This would be a great place for a landing, Lieutenant." The one sergeant was more pleased with this site than the last one. "Excellent egress between the dunes to a good hard surface road behind. Prime!" He was thinking of how quickly the Marines could move inland and establish themselves in a crisis situation.

Their quick conference there on the beach, while everyone's observations and thoughts were fresh, allowed the lieutenant to fill in the blanks, jot down ideas to flesh out the report, and he felt this little foray had been very successful.

Their work ashore completed, they walked up the ramp into the boat, and the coxswain raised the ramp, backed the boat off the beach, and steered for the ship. It was a cool, pleasant afternoon, the sun was shining, and he reviewed his notes in his head as he watched his men. Including the two Marines had been his idea, and had worked out well. Their insight in assessing beach conditions was outstanding. Each, signalmen, quartermasters, boatswain's mates, had added to the total package.

Absently he thrust his hand into his jacket pocket, finding with surprise the foreign object about which he had forgotten, and suddenly wondered what he might have found. Intriguing; but this was not the time to look it over again. It was an attractive little jug, just the same.

The ship was anchored about three miles away, but they had an hour before chow and then he had the second dog watch on the bridge, and he needed to check with his radiomen, too. The challenges of daily work captured his full attention once more.

In his stateroom about 9 PM, after getting off watch, he set the curious little jug on his fold down desk. He could finally relax a little, and sat down, worn from a long day, and for the first time gave himself over to considering seriously what to make of this strange little antique. Extraordinary, he thought to himself, and very unique for sure. He had orders onward to other duty on the west coast, and this would be very attractive on his walnut desk, with a little cork coaster under it. He looked forward to moving on from sea duty to staff work and more schooling.

There was a knock at his door. "Mister Kurlander, sir?"

He recognized the voice of his radio messenger. "Come in." "Hello, Sealy. You got the watch this evening?"

"Yes, sir," said the sailor, handing him the message boards, "There's a hot one, sir, and the captain says for me to make sure you see it immediately."

Lieutenant Kurlander was the communications officer, and the message advised that he should be ready for a special shipment of crypto materials when next they replenished underway, which would be three days away. Fine, no big problem; forewarned was forearmed. He signed off, thanked the messenger, and he was gone.

Six hours away and the bridge watch would wake him to take the 04-0800 morning watch on the bridge, and they would be getting underway at 0730 and heading out to sea. He ought to knock off, and set condition horizontal for some shut eye. The little jug on his desk, however, was engaging, and he picked it up again, drawn to it somehow.

After a minute, he drew his penknife from his pants pocket and scraped away some of the crud around the plug. He laughed to himself when he thought of the plug seeming very much like a hard rubber or some modern composite material. Not likely! With the point of his knife, he nudged the plug until it loosened, and removed it with his fingers.

There was a little whooshing sound and he was surprised beyond imagining at what he saw.

"How may I be of service, My Master?" Her voice was soft and submissive.

It was a girl... well, what looked like a girl, anyway. She was something, he thought immediately, out of the Arabian nights, for sure. She was cuter that he had ever seen; big blue eyes, dark, heavy lashes, and a very pretty face. Her brunette hair was long and full down her back, spilling over her bare shoulders.

She bowed her head in subservience to her new master, and waited for his command.

The visual image before him was a surprise; very pleasing and pleasant, but very much a surprise just the same. She was life-sized, and somewhat smallish, petite perhaps. Her torso was bare save for a light blue silk-like piece of material, draped lightly across her very full and perfectly formed breasts. Her waist was narrow, flaring to full hips. There was a gem of some kind in her naval and a chain about her hips, dipping very low in front, from which hung some kind of material he could not determine, since everything below her middle was vague and disappeared in a wisp of vapor oozing from the jug. It was definitely her breasts, however, that grabbed his attention.

He appreciated the delicate features of her face, her long lashes shielded her twinkling eyes from him now as she bowed her head, waiting for him to command her, and his attention drifted easily back to her breasts once more. Her tiny nipples seemed to look upward with a pouty pleading for his attention. Her breasts were splendid, sat high on her chest, and seemed to him precisely the ideal size for her figure. Thirty-six? Perhaps; maybe a little less. Probably at least "C"s, he was guessing, maybe a little more, but the more striking thing was that with all that 'top hamper' she did not appear the least bit out of balance in her figure. The light blue silk was technically covering her breasts, but in practice the thin, nearly translucent material was little or no covering at all.

He had not the slightest idea what he might say. He was in no way certain that he was not dreaming.

"You have a command for me, My Master? Please command and I shall obey if I can." Once again, her voice was soft and submissive, and she waited, head bowed.

With some reservation, he asked gently, "Who are you?"

"I am a fourth rate genie, My Master, and my purpose is to serve you in any way you command. I await your pleasure, My Master." Her voice was light and pleasant, and very feminine.

What is going on here, he thought. This is a fantasy beyond imagining.

After a brief pause, trying to gather his wits with this...this genie in front of him, "What is you name, genie. How are you known?"

"I have no name save the one you give me, My Master. I am here to please you, and you only."

"Excellent, young lady, and I will welcome your pleasing me." Yet, he wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. What name did he want to give her? He thought Brianna was a classy name for a cute girl...cute genie, he thought. And, what kinds of things could he require of her? Well, one thing sprang into his thoughts immediately, and he decided to try her.

"Your name, young lady..." he made his voice somewhat more commanding, trying to get into the game here and tell her what to do, "your name is Brianna." That seemed decisive enough, and in response she raised her head and looked at him with an appreciative smile.

"Brianna? Thank you for such a pretty name, My Master." Her blue eyes twinkled for him, and he smiled back.

"Also, Brianna," he was warming to the idea of giving her commands, "you shall be pleased to present yourself to me each time as you emerge from your little jug and then promptly remove the material about your pretty breasts. Do you understand me?" She nodded her head in response, and the light blue silk simply disappeared.

They were perfect! No other word could do justice. They were creamy white, larger than many – he thought his early guesswork was pretty close – and with just classic curves, and with the cutest little tips, puffy and with tiny nipples in a soft, dusky shade of pink.

Marvelous!

He wanted something more of a performance from her, however. "Let's try that again, Brianna," he instructed with a drawl. "With your hands, take off the material around your pretty breasts. Do it slowly and with feeling, knowing that I very much like to watch you... and then toss it aside."

That caught her off guard, and she looked at him questioningly. He just waited for her to comply.

The material reappeared. After a shy pause, she reached a hand behind her and pulled the knot loose, and the silk promptly dropped away in her one hand. Then, in a casual gesture, she reached out one arm and, in a delightfully saucy manner, deliberately let the silk slide off her fingers.

His appreciative gaze triggered pleasurable sensations in her tummy that she had never felt before. Well, she thought they were in her tummy. Of course, she was a novice, a fourth rate genie just starting out on her first assignment, and this was all new to her. The other girl genies in her class had moved on to other things after their first assignments and several had progressed further. For some reason she had been stuck, waiting for some human to call her forth.

And he was a man, too, a very handsome man, she thought, dressed all in brown clothes and wearing a dark green jacket. How strange, she thought. She had never seen this kind of human before... but, then, she had only seen a couple of humans before... and none of them had looked like him, none at all. And now he was looking at her, pleased with what he saw, she thought, judging from the smile on his face.

"And so, young lady, tell me about your powers, and how do I use your magic services?"

That snapped her back from her meanderings. "Oh, My Master, I am only a fourth rate genie, and therefore, my powers are limited by my inexperience, but I shall make every attempt to please you in whatever manner you desire," and dropped her head in a slight bow before him.

Was there a double meaning there, he wondered, and was she playing word games with him? No way at the moment to be sure, but the truth would soon come out, he was positive. She had whisked away the blue silk easily enough. Her prominent 'top hamper' – those beautiful breasts of hers, with her tiny little pink nipples – was just delightful and beckoning.

Retrieving his presence of mind from its wandering, he asked her about the mechanics of possessing a genie. She must return to her jug, she explained sweetly, when he commanded, and she would come forth immediately when he removed the stopper. Anything he commanded her, she would then attempt to grant. Anything, he thought to himself, left a lot of latitude, and ruled out very little.

He asked whether she had others to serve, and she looked at him oddly. "Oh, no, My Master, I am here to serve you alone, and any wish you express I will seek to fill if I can."

The very thought of her being real was more than one busy naval officer at sea could fathom... let alone wish, though he was trying hard.

"You are averypretty genie, Brianna. Does it embarrass you to be bare breasted in front of me?"

"Your wish is my command, My Master." That was a proper statement, and true enough. "But, it does," she dropped her eyes shyly and couldn't help a smirky comment, "make me tingle inside."

Hmmm, he thought, she's a saucy little wench in her own sweet way, even if a genie. Very alluring.

"Brianna, raise your arms above your head for me." She did not hesitate a second, though her motions were graceful, unhurried, and very feminine. Her body was a classic work of extraordinary artistry, and he had never seen anything remotely so beautiful. Photography of bare-breasted women, or women nearly so, is not so rare these days, and few men remain oblivious to them, even though such was really not his style. He had, therefore, the imagery to allow him to be very discerning and discriminating, and his own rather exacting standards did not keep him from appreciating her exquisite form. Exquisite, indeed; she was flawless! How many artists had sought such perfection in stone and on canvas, and here he has perfection presented to him from a little corroded jug found on a remote beach. Is she for real?

He motioned to her to turn around, and she did so, slowly and with poise, glancing back at him over her shoulder, shy and not at all sure that he was happy with her.

And her shape and form and curve and coloringwere exquisite. That was his own evaluation. Aside from that, a personal opinion with so many superlatives might be roundly dismissed as hyperbole. It is a common human error to elevate what one finds beautiful to the ultimate standard of perfection. Understandable; intellectually shallow, but understandable. Nevertheless, where the beauty of this particular young girl's body is the topic, hyperbole is simply unavoidable. More to the point, superlatives provide the only accurate measure, and they may yet fall short of the mark.

For Brianna, only her inexperience kept her from seeing it in his eyes. He was very pleased,very pleased indeed. No implants, no cosmetics, no monkeying with the design, just a fresh, vibrant girl with a wondrously beautiful figure, including her spectacular 'top hamper.'

Then, like a bolt of lightning, he realized that only a curtain covered the opening from his stateroom to the passageway beyond, and anyone walking by might knock and enter, especially one of his fellow officers.

"All right, Brianna, I want you to feel welcome in my life. You make me pleased to have you as my genie." Was somebody listening out in the passageway? He hoped not. "Return now to you jug, Brianna. I will call on you again soon." He was getting into the mindset of ordering his genie about.

"As you wish, My Master," she bowed her head and the wispy vapors about her drew her back into the little jug with a whooshing sound.

He watched the process with interest, considered what lottery might have bestowed this magic upon him. A fantastic voyage of his own making now awaited him, and he carefully replaced the little stopper.

As stimulating as was her presence with him, he had to think about circumstances, what to do with his genie, for instance, and how to keep her safe. The coming days would be challenging, and he needed to get some rest.

Rest? Fat chance now with the vision of this girl...this genie in his head. She was a first rate cutie for sure; very much like his wife before he lost her in the auto accident with that drunk driver. For the first time since her loss, he felt his heart warming a little. Brianna was as choice a beauty as he had ever seen, or ever hoped to see.

After a sandwich in the wardroom, thinking about her, of course, and then a shower to try and relax, he lay in his bunk trying to sleep. She was a real beauty of the first magnitude. She looked like she was about nineteen, well, like a girl nineteen, her eyes twinkled for him, those long lashes and her shy smile were enough to tear him up inside. Her breasts, however, were just too perfect to imagine. When she had turned, they swayed softly, and as she leaned over they swung away from her chest daintily. Beauty beyond perfection!

He got some sleep before going on watch, but not much.

The next days and weeks were as full as had been those before them, fuller now for him with his mind-altering experience with his genie. Between watch standing on the bridge, and managing the communications for the ship, including the coding operations and handling the crypto equipment and materials, the days and nights were filled with things to do and coordinating with others. They fueled again from the oiler for the last time for this deployment, and he received his crypto shipment as advised. Ten days later they turned over at Gibraltar to the incoming ready group. There was a party ashore at the British officer's club, and that was nice, but through all of this, he had to struggle to keep control of his thinking because she was ever in his thoughts. The first thing when he awoke, frequently through his waking hours – whether night or day – and the last thing before dropping off to his normally exhausted slumber, she was there... her sweet smile, her pretty face, her dancing blue eyes and long lashes, and her magnificently perfect breasts.