It's an Arabian Knights' style turban, little vest, brass armlets, &
loincloth. You grin as you eye the outfit.
"Looks like someone wants to be my harem girl or maybe it's someones?"
you grin broader. You've heard stuff about the Olsen twins (no not
the actresses - these ones are cheerleaders at your school). You start
to put the turban and armlets on after removing your shirt. You look
at the loincloth, and cringe slightly. In the bedroom is one thing,
in the park? Well, you wear less when you're on the water polo team,
so you shrug and follow the little card inside showing how to tie it
on you. You grab your letterman's jacket and car keys. You drive to
the back of the parking lot and get out next to a tree. It's pretty
deserted with the threatening storm clouds, and you shiver as you toss
your jacket into the car. You tuck your car keys into your loincloth,
and head through the bush lined paths to the fountain at the center of
the park.
You don't see anyone by the fountain, so you walk toward it. The
moment you step into a chalk circle on the pavement, you know
something is wrong. You look down at your affixed feet. The sigils
drawn in the circle match the ones drawn on your armlets.
"It worked!" shouts a familiar voice.
The dweeb you shove into his locker weekly emerges from the bushes.
He's holding a blue glass bottle with the same sigil embedded in
bronze in the glass. He pulls the stopper out of the bottle and aims
it at you.
"Ha, ha! So what's the joke?" you ask.
"Genie, go into this bottle and fill the bowl of the bottle," he
orders.
You are no longer affixed to the ground. You are flying through the
air head first straight at the bottle's opening.
"Oof! Whadafk?" you mumble.
Your cock is in your face. Your bare big toe is jammed in your ear.
Cold glass surrounds you. It's like you were made of rubber and
somebody wadded you up and shoved you into this bottle. Your shoes,
socks,keys, watch and class ring are all outside the bottle. Jeremy
sets you down - or the bottle down and you're in it. How could he
carry you? He's a wimp. How could you fit in the bottle. Through
the blue glass you can see his distorted figure picking up your watch,
ring, keys, shoes and socks. He tosses your socks into the waste bin.
He looks at the shoes debating, but tosses them in too. He pockets
your ring, watch and keys, and comes back toward the bottle.
You stuggle violently to get out. All you succeed in doing is wobbling
the bottle, and moving your right eye so it looks straight up the stem
of the bottle. He picks you up like the bottle was empty, and walks
down the path you came. The clouds have opened up, and the rain is
washing away the chalk markings by the fountain.
Jeremy unlocks your car, gets in, and fastens your bottle to the
passenger seat with the shoulder strap and seat belt. Then he adjusts
his seat. He puts on your too big for him letterman's jacket, and
starts the engine.
The car lurches forward over the sidewalk, and then jerks back and
forth. Jeremy mutters, "Damn European transmissions, everything's
backwards, and it had to be a stick shift. Well, I remember what to
do from driver's ed, but I prefer automatic."
You're livid and frightened in your bottle. The dweeb's going to wreck
your car or burn out your transmission! There's nothing you can do
about it. Fortunately, he's only driving two blocks to his house. He
stashes your car in the alley behind his house, and releases your seat
belt. He carries you into his house. Your mind is screaming. He
left your pride and joy unlocked with the keys in the ignition.
In what has to be his bedroom with Star Trek, Star Wars and Lord of
the Rings posters on the walls, he pulls the stopper out.
"Genie, come forth!" he commands.
Woosh!
You're out of the bottle - sort of. You look down, your upper body is
floating above the bottle. Your lower body appears to be smoke
drifting from your waist back into the bottle where you are anchored.
"Okay, Jeremy, what the f@#% did you do to me?" you demand.
"That's not what you're supposed to say," Jeremy says resting the
stopper next to his cheek and shaking his head, "You're supposed to
say "I am the genie slave of the bottle, your wish is my command." "
"I'm what? You've got to be kid-uh,, oh," you stammer as you feel
suddenly compelled by an unseen force, "I am the genie of the bottle,
your humble slave, your wish is my command, Master Jeremy!"
You cover your mouth, did you actually say that? You did. Why? Your
inner voice tells you that it is because you are in fact the genie
slave of the bottle and the one who released you is your master whom
you must obey as long as he is your master.
"That's better. Now where shall we start? With your thug buddies?
How about Lothario Larry? He's the stud who brags he's bedded a girl
a day since he was 14, maybe he should become a slutty pussy who
craves cock - any cock? Or Boomer that guy weighs almost 400 lbs?
Maybe turn him into the 400 lb gorilla he acts like for real and stick
him in the zoo? Or maybe shrink him to action figure size? And then
there's Doyle - and well, maybe I should just get our Senior Yearbook
and go through and make a list before we get started."
Jeremy grabs his year book opens it, and pauses, "On second
thought..."