Being a genie isn’t a great job. The hours are long and unpredictable, my Masters are often very demanding, and though the lamp comes
with the job, but it’s far from spacious.
There’s only one thing that redeems my life as a genie. I have a little bit of leeway in my actions. When Master makes a wish, I get to add
exactly three extra words into the wish if I want. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it sure makes an eternal existence of servitude a lot more
fun.
It’s even better than it sounds. I’m gay, so I usually rig the wishes so that my Master gets transformed into the kind of fantasy dude that
gets me off. My tastes have changed over the centuries, but these last twenty or thirty years, I’ve been really into fratboys.
What? Like your job doesn’t have perks?
Obviously I don’t just change their wishes from “I wish I was rich” to “I wish I was a fratboy and rich.” That’d just be cheap. Instead I nudge
them in the right direction until they succumb to my desires. The subtlety turns my domination into a sport.
I’m probably doing this whole ‘being a genie’ thing wrong, but people keep rubbing my lamp anyhow.
Like the last Master I had. When I poofed out of the lamp at him, he practically dropped it and ran before he realized what was going on.
“Hello Master!” I boomed at him. “I am the genie of the lamp. While you own the lamp, you own me. I can grant any wish you can think of
with two exceptions: I can’t bring back the dead, and I can’t make someone fall in love with you.”
He looked confused for a second. “What about the third rule. No wishing for more wishes.”
“But Master, you have as many wishes as you desire. I don’t know why you’d wish for more, but there’s no rule that says you can’t.”
This Master’s name was Davis, and he was a lot on the chubby side, but trying to hide it with a poorly fitted suit. About thirty years old with
short buzzed brown hair and the kind of B.O. that made me want to crawl back into my lamp. I was going to be doing Master a big favor.
He was also pretty smart, even if he did work a shitty job at the supermarket. Master wasn’t so sure about using my power. He expected it
to backfire on him, like he’d say the wrong word and then he’d suddenly be a panda bear with no front teeth. For the first few wishes, he
was very, very careful.
“Genie,” he said cautiously. “I’m ready to make a wish.”
“Yes Master! What is your command?”
He read the wish off a little piece of paper, making sure he said all the words clearly. “I wish I always had a hundred dollars in my wallet.”
I took a moment and decided on my change. I added the phrase ‘condom and five’. I crossed my arms and nodded my head sharply.
Time jumped back a few seconds in the house, and Master read his wish to me again. “I wish I always had a condom and five hundred
dollars in my wallet,” he read the sentence in a very clear voice from where it was inscribed in ink.
“Your wish is my command!” I crossed my arms and nodded my head. When he checked his wallet, he found $500 and a new condom
that hadn’t been there seconds earlier. It was tucked in the little pocket beside the dusty condom that expired in 2003.
He took the money and the condom out, then closed the wallet. When he opened it again, there was more money, and another condom.
“Genie, that was amazing,” gushed Master. If he thought that was incredible, it was going to blow his mind when we got to the bigger
wishes.
Master walked around the house, trying to find a negative consequence of the wish, but of course he couldn’t. I always give you exactly
what you say. Eventually he returned to try his second wish.
“Genie, I’m ready for my second wish.”
“Yes Master! Thank you for the heads up, however you can wish without warning and I’ll still be ready. My whole existence is making
wishes come true.”
“Thank you Genie. I wish I owned a car.”
That one was easy. I hear this wish a dozen times every month. I gave a quick nod and time jumped back again.
“Thank you Genie. I wish I owned a fast red sports car.”
“Your wish is my command!” And I made it happen. There’s nothing like seeing that expression of joy on your Master’s face when they see
the car they remember dreaming about sitting in their driveway.
Of course, Master had never dreamed of owning a red sports car, but wishing makes it so.
“Genie! This is incredible! I could be rich beyond my wildest dreams. I’m going to go hop in my convertible and cruise around town with the
top down for a while.”
“I’m glad that you’re pleased Master.”
“Pleased? I’m ecstatic. Before I go try out this car, I’d just like one more wish. With a car like this, I’d pull in all the babes, if only I had a
better body. Genie, I wish I was in better physical condition.”
Time skipped a beat, and Master said it again. “Genie, I wish I was obsessive about being in better physical condition.” I nodded my head
and the world changed.
Master ran to a mirror to look at his new body. He was fucking ripped. Six feet tall, two hundred and five pounds, and it was clear that he
went to the gym every morning. There were subtle changes around the house too – a gym bag dropped next to the door, the scent of
sweaty clothes emanating from it; a workout logbook sitting open on a kitchen counter that was crammed with protein powders and
supplements; an alarm clock set for some 5 A.M. lifting. Master’s body ached, but that only made him happier. Being sore felt so fucking
good to him, like he was growing every second.