Just as Doyle is opening his mouth to give you another command, his mother calls through the window.
"Doyle! What's going on out there?"
"Oh, crap!" Doyle whispers. "Uh, Genie, I wish that everyone thinks it's normal for you to be my slave and for me to be drinking beer and, uh, for Boomer to be walking around in a cum-stained jockstrap."
"Granted!" you say. "And do you have to keep calling me 'Genie'... Master?" The last word slips out in spite of yourself, through gritted teeth.
Doyle smirks at you. "Get used to it... Genie."
"Doyle!" Doyle's mother rounds the corner. "Hasn't your slave finished clearing that brush yet? Oh, hello, Leslie."
"Hi, Mrs. Alister," replies Boomer, sheepishly.
"You're looking well. Is that a new jockstrap?"
"Yes, Mrs. Alister."
Having trouble keeping a straight face, you turn back to the brush and continue to clear it. One advantage of being a genie, even though you're compelled to do this task against your will and are grimy and sweaty and barehanded and practically naked, the dry, rough brush doesn't hurt you at all as it scrapes your skin, nor does the task particularly tire you. But, oh, does it ever piss you off.
"Well, Doyle, you can have your friends over, but see that your slave finishes before the workers come."
"Yes, Mom. Slave, work faster!"
You glare over your shoulder at Doyle, but your body obeys his command.
"All right, Doyle. It was nice to see you, Leslie."
"Nice to see you... Mrs... Alis...ter." Boomer's breathing heavily again already and straining his Jeremy jockstrap.
Doyle's mom disappears back into the house.
"Haha!" laughs Doyle. "That was awesome!"
"Jeremy says that---ooohhhh!" mumbles Boomer, cumming again.
Doyle howls with laughter.