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THE LAMP Subtitle: I DREAM OF GENE Copyright 1998 By Deane Christopher ************************************************* Note to prospective reader: I think of myself not as a writer or an author, but as a surrealistic wordsmith, pioneering the literary art form of Out- based Free-prose. Therefore, in the following composition, any and all adherence to the rules governing the proper use of the English Language is purely coincidental. The reader will find the sentence structure has a marked tendency to be somewhat cumbersome, due to the extremely liberal use of adjectives. Also, the follow piece has its' fair share of dangling participles and a whole caboodle of hyphenated words. Another note to the prospective reader: The following story was based on a fairly simple, though admittedly far fetched premise and was allowed to evolve on its' own, surprising your most humble and obedient surrealistic wordsmith with some of the twist and turns it took as it did so. And yet another tiresome note to the prospective reader: The follow story contains sexually explicit and transgender related material. If you are under age or are afraid that the perusal of such vulgar subjects might curve your spine, grow hair on the palms of your hands, rot your brain or something or other along those lines, the answers is simple. STOP! READ NO FURTHER! ************************************************* Title: THE LAMP Subtitle: I DREAM OF GENE Copyright 1998 By Deane Christopher Weather permitting, Gene Renyolds and his wife generally spent their Saturday mornings rummaging around flea-markets and yard-sales, looking for what they, in their lexicon, had come to term 'treasures'. Ann, Gene's better-half, kept an eye out for brass fabricated whatnots and doodads, while her husband tended to busied himself checking out used tools and other sundry handyman-like paraphernalia. "Look, dear!", Ann gleefully exclaimed as linked up with her husband at the end of the row of display tables they had been browsing through. "Look what I found!" "Wow!", having nonchalantly given the highly tarnished and crude encrusted item a cursory glance, Gene sarcastically chided. "Gee, hon! Another Persians lamp! Just what we need! Let's see! What's that make? Five? Six? "No!", Gene quickly corrected himself. "I plum forgot about that gaudy, semi-precious jewel encrusted eyesore that you absolutely had to have last week! "Wait! It couldn't have been last week! Last week we were down the ocean! And you and I didn't go flea-marketing while we were there. So, given that, it had to be the week before last! It was, wasn't it, dear?" "Yes.", Ann concurred good naturedly. "Well, If my recollection serves me right, if we add this new one into the count, I do believe that that makes a grand total of seven these Chinese or Taiwanese knock-off Persian-styled brass lamps that you've picked up here of late. "I mean to tell you honey, to my way of thinking, you've got a real collection going! Soon... sure as shootin'... knowing you... it won't be long now before you're going to want me to make some sort of shelf to display them on. "What gives, Ann? Have you all of a sudden developed a Persian lamp fetish or, are you secretly harboring the far fetched hope that one fine day, like Aladin of legend, you're going to come into the possession of one that actually houses an all powerful, turban wearing, muscular, hairy chested, forearms banded in eighteen karat gold bracelet-like what-ya'-ma-call-'ems, wish fulfilling genie? Y'know, that's straight out of Sheharrazod's a Thousand and One Tales of the Arabian Knights!" "No, dear!", Ann replied, adding a whimsical after-thought, "Though I must admit. It sure would be nice were something like that to happen. I mean, think about it, dear. Wouldn't it be a hoot to have a magic wielding genie at your every beck and call?" "Why, Ann? Please tell me!", Gene chided. "Just what in the world do you need a genie for? After all, you've got little old at your every beck and call! Granted... I'm a first class procrastinator... but even though I am... don't I pretty much attend to your every bidding! And, if I do say so myself, though I must admit I do have my fair share of faults, all in all, I'm a pretty good husband... not to mention, a step-and-fetch-it to boot! Aren't I? I mean, though I've yet to win the lottery, all things considered, you have to admit that I do a fair to midland job of providing for you." "Yes, dear." Ann was quick to add, "Though you have yet to come up to my parents' rather grandiose and unrealistic expectations of what a husband is supposed to be and do, I must say: all in all, you do a pretty good job of it. Far better than most. Though,", she added in a hasty afterthought, "there's always room for improvement. "However,", Ann, holding the tarnished, gunk and crude encrusted lamp in one hand and reaching down to grasp her husband's hand with her other, continued on playfully, "if you'd like to make your little wiffey happy, dear, and there by, increase your chances of getting lucky tonight, perhaps... when we get home... after I fix us some lunch... would you'd be so kind as to work a little bit of your own brand of handyman magic on this new lamp of ours. I do believe, that once you get all the tarnish and gunk off of it, this new find of mine is going to be the center piece of my budding Persian lamp collection." "Cute! Real cute! You know, that's flat out and out bribery, Ann! If I'm hearing you right... and I sincerely belive that I am... your saying: that if I want to get laid tonight, it would be in my best interest were I to get on the stick and see what I can do about getting all of that crude, gunk and tarnish off that new 'treasure' of your's." "Please!", Ann returned. "I promise: I'll make it worth your while, Gene. "In fact, dear... if you'll see what you can do about cleaning up this lamp for me this afternoon, and not put it on that proverbial back burner of yours... y'know, like you tend to do with most of the projects that I've asked you to do for me... I'll go you one better. Tonight, as a precursor to our love making... just to tickle that perverse and perverted fancy of your's... I'll even go so far as to wear that kinky little black satin maid's outfit that you gave me as, what I took to be a gag gift, on my last birthday. High heels! Mess stockings! The works!" "You will!", Gene's tone signified that he was both intrigued and delighted with his wife's most generous and intriguing offer. "Yes, dear.", Ann replied, "Though I'm probably going to regret it... y'know, given how foolish I'll feel getting all gussied up in that skimpy getup... if you'll see what you can do about cleaning up this new Persian lamp of mine... knowing fully well how much of a kick you'd get out of seeing me decked out in one of those dick-teaser specials that you - though you can hardly ever cajole me into wearing one 'em for you - keep buying for me... I promise! Tonight, I'll bite the bullet; stow my inhibitions and wear one of the darn things for you. "Deal?", Ann queried. "Deal!", Gene quipped enthusiastically, if not excitedly. * * * Just thinking about his wife and how fetchingly provocative she would look decked out in that sexy black satin maid's outfit titillated the hell out of Gene's rather vivid imagination. No matter how hard he tried, over and over again, all throughout the drive back to their home, the image of Ann prancing around in such revealing and blatantly seductive garb kept cropping up in his mind. Needless to say, by the time he pulled into their driveway, Gene Renyolds was one motivated puppy. In fact, his wife's promise had him so no holds bar motivated that no sooner had he gotten in the front door of their house, he was dashing off to the sanctum sanctorum of his basement workshop; there, to fetch his self-complied, handy-dandy, brass clean kit. Shortly thereafter, even as his wife turned to the task of preparing their lunch at the kitchen counter, which was to consist of grilled cheese sandwiches, chips and a couple of dill pickle slices, Gene, having first spread a wealth of old newspapers over one entire end of their kitchen table, placed his wife's newly acquired lamp directly on the paper before him. Then, in a cursory effort to see just how much a chore the lamp's restoration would entail, Gene, knowing that he would have to stop shortly and eat the sandwiches that Ann was even then preparing, decided to get a head start on the project. So opting, he scanned the arsenal of cleaning implements at hand and selected a twill cleaning cloth and a small bottle containing several ounces of your everyday, industrial strength, handy-dandy, liquid brass cleaner. Dabbing the twill cloth with of few drops of the cleaning fluid, he started in on the lamp. One rub. Two rubs. And then, just as he was on the reciprocating, backward drawing portion of the circular motion of his third preliminary rubbing endeavor, a most astonishing thing occurred. Without any sort of attention garnishing pyrotechnic flash or, for that matter, ominous heralding sound, Gene and Ann's life together was, at that instant in time, being subjected to a drastic and traumatic mystical revamping. Given the fact that he rarely, if ever, employed the F-word, a very uncharacteristic, and somewhat irrational sounding shriek of Gene's startled and somewhat choked off, "What the Ffff... uck!", was the first and only indication that his wife had that anything was amiss. Fearing that something awful had happened, that perhaps some of the caustic cleaning fluid had somehow gotten in one or both of her husband's eyes or, that he had gotten careless and inadvertently spilled some of the brass cleaner on the brand new linoleum floor that he had, after one hell of a lot of procrastination on his behalf, finally gotten around to installing for her - Ann immediately ceased what she was doing and pivoted briskly about. The phenomenon that Ann Renyolds beheld as she turned to face the end of the table that her husband had been seated at defied her ability to comprehend. There was Gene. Or, more accurately, there was what was left of Gene. From mid chest upwards, Gene was still the Gene that she had known and loved since high school. However, from mid chest downward, for all intent and purposes, Gene's lower extremities had plum up and vanished into a severely tapering, violently whirling, cyclone-like, purple-violet tinged funnel that sort of emulated a witch's high peeked hat turned topsy-turvy and failed - by a good foot or more - to extent itself all the way down to the linoleum. As far as Ann could tell, Gene's feet and legs were completely gone and, given the severity of the funnel's downward tapering, her logic decreed that there was absolutely no way that the madly spinning, purple-violet vortex could ever begin to conceal her husband's hips, abdomen or, for that matter, the lowermost portion of his chest. "Ann!", Gene frantically wailed as the cyclone- like funnel continued to extend itself steadily upward, engulfing and eradicating both his upper torso and his aimlessly flailing arms in the process. "Help meeeeee! Pleeeease! My body! It's coming apart! Unraveling! Molecule by molecule! Atom by atom!" And then, in a blink of an eye, Gene was gone. Vanished. Nothing remained, save for the frantically swirling, purple-violet, cyclone-like funnel. For a lingering instant, the wildly spinning tornado-like funnel hovered just above the chair that Ann's husband had been occupying but a brief moment or so before. Then, the swirling, purple-violet, twister-like vortex began to rise and as it did, it re-positioned itself so that its' tapered lower apogee hovered just inches above table top. Once so position, the cyclone-like funnel's tapered lower apogee appeared to Ann as if it were drawn horizontally, directly towards the lip of the lamp's rune decorated, crude encrusted spout. So positioned, in, what was to Ann, a sickening sucking sounding whoosh, the purple-violet funnel-like whatever-you-what-to-call-it was dramatically drawn downward into the lamp's interior in a manner which, to Ann's way of thinking, was very reminiscent of how Jeannie - of 'I Dream of Jeannie' fame - was drawn down into her bottle. "Oh, My God!", Ann exclaimed in pained disbelief as she boldly advanced upon the table and the crude encrusted lamp which rested so sedately upon it. "Gene!", she gasp, knowing that the airing of her husband's name was a little more than a futile endeavor. "What the hell happened? What in the world did you do?" To her credit, Ann Renyolds, who, according to her husband, could be a real air-head of a dizbang at times, tended to functioned extremely well under the duress imposed by crises situations. Truth be told, it always amazed Gene how his wife could remain so calm, cool and collected when darn near everyone around her seemed to becoming apart at the seams. Needless to say, Ann Renyolds found herself right smack dab in the middle of what her grandfather would have termed a real genuine sockdolager of a crises situation. Taking a few deep, settling breaths to still both her ire and her ragging state of befuddled confusion, Ann endeavored to do what Gene would have done under similar circumstances, and that was: apply a health dose of logic to the situation. Quickly, Ann mentally complied the facts as she knew them to be. One: her husband had been dickering around with what looked to be a Persian lamp, quite possible the genuine article. Two: according to all the pertinent legends and their various fablized renditions, some Persian lamps were reputed to house genies. Three: these so called jinns and genies generally entered and exited their lamps... or, in some depictions, like on the sitcom 'I Dream of Jeannie', bottles via, what Ann thought of as the metaphysical disassembling/reassembling method... y'know, the ancient Arabian precursor of Star Trek's nifty transporter system, that in layman's terms, basically digitalized a person's physical being for darn near instantaneous transmission to some other local. Four: generally speaking, one summoned a jinn or genie by rubbing the prescribed containment vessel, be that prescribed containment vessel a lamp, bottle, gilded box or whatever. Having been a devotee of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's super sleuth Sherlock Holmes, Ann readily agreed with the world's first consulting detective's oft quoted postulate that, in bastardized form, roughly stated: that when the facts of a case clearly poo-pooed all the probably solutions, what was left, no matter how improbable, had to be only conclusion a logical person could deduce. So, bearing that oft quote Holmesian postulate in mind, Ann Renyolds, in her desperation, embraced the only hope she had at hand, with that fragile hope being: that her husband's body had somehow undergone some sort of metaphysical disassembling process and that his essential essence now resided in some magically induced state of being - genie-like - within the lamp's confines. 'Okay,', Ann asked herself. "If that's what occurred... if Gene's undergone some sort of magical transformation and has been sucked into this lamp, how the hell do I get him out? Do I just rub the lamp and hope that it - I guess you could say - regurgitates him? 'Wait just a ding dong moment!', Ann mentally chided herself. 'Don't be hasty! Think it through! 'What's the worst thing that can happen? Answering herself, Ann quickly replied, 'What happened to Gene could happen to me! I could get all physically discombobulated and end up getting sucked in there with him! 'Yes!', the Ann mental countered herself. 'Yes, you could! There's always that possibility. But, is that really the worst thing that could happen.' Ann, supplying an answer to her own inquiry, 'No! The worst thing that I can thing of can happening is: that nothing at all will happen! I mean, if I do, in the end, opt to give rubbing the lamp a go, and that results in me getting sucked inside as well, so be it! At least I'll be with Gene, in whatever form or state of being that life - if indeed there is life - inside the lamp entails. 'Besides,', Ann number 1 continued, 'maybe it'll work! Maybe, if I rub the lamp while wishing, with my whole heart and soul, to have my husband back, the lamp will reciprocate and reproduce him. I mean, it's worth the risk, isn't it?' 'Yes...', Ann, at a loss to come up with any alternatives, concurred with herself, 'Yes... It's definitely worth the risk!' And so, having arrived at the decision to give rubbing the lamp a go, Ann picked the lamp up and, cradling in the crux of her left arm, began the first of three very defined and firmly applied circular motions of her right hand; caressing, in a somewhat forceful manner, the tarnished and gunked-up outer surface of the lamp; all the while wishing, in her heart of hearts, for her husband's return. One rub. Two rubs. And the all important third rub. And shazam! The lamp shuddered once and then, in answer to Ann's most heart felt desire, began to spume out a billowing and ever expanding, swirling, cyclone-like, purple-violet vortex. Then, once the mini-twister-like funnel formed, it scooted off to an open area of the kitchen floor where in hovered and succinctly began to coalesce itself into something that began to emulate the human form. Within seconds, the form had taken on definite, recognizable human characteristic, such as arms, legs and a pair of rather ample, if not succulent, halter encased mammary glands. "Shit!', Ann riled. 'Shit! Shit! Shit! Those are definitely breast and my Gene - most assuredly - doesn't have breast!' Sure enough, the fuming, purple-violet, funnel- like, whatever-you-what-to-call-it was transforming itself into a human. Trouble was, the human it was transforming itself into was definitely of the female persuasion. And what a striking female the swirling vortex was coalescing itself into. Petite! About five two at the most. Blonde! Of the striking, platinum blonde, eye-riveting variety. Dazzling and beguiling sapphire hued eyes! The kind of eyes that could, with little or no effort, entice a man to willing immerse his most ardent and scandalous desire within them. And for toppers, a most bodacious bod of a body! A sculpture, flawless, built like a brick shithouse body. The kind of body that could, and probably would, cause a whole bevy of Playboy's most drop-dead gorgeous playmates to turn a putrid and most envious tinge of vivid green. It should also be noted that the blue and gold harem-girl ensemble that the little blonde blue-eyed bombshell of a male-libido captivating creature was so scandalous decked out in did nothing to detract from her overall appearance. Fact is: though it's impact failure to register on a gravely disheartened Ann, the harem-girl outfit only served to enhance the female genie's - for that's what Ann took the girl to be - overall appearance. 'Now that's strange! Really strange!', Ann, who was fretfully biding her time to address the little blonde bombshell, couldn't help but reflexively pondered. 'One might expect a genie to undergo a smidgen of disorientation upon materializing. After all, being couped up in the cramped confines of a brass lamp for - God knows how long! - can't be a whole hell of a lot of fun. But this is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! 'I mean... she's about as discombobulated as discombobulated can be! Just look at the frenzied and frantic way she's keeps plucking at the diaphanous material of her pantaloons... not to mention, the crass and oafish manner she alternates between squeezing the shit out of those ample breast of hers and groping her crotch! Shit! It looks as if she's as befuddled and perplexed as I am! Hell! She's so damn preoccupied playing a game of grab-ass with herself, it's a safe bet to say that she doesn't even know I'm here! 'Well...', Ann mentally chided herself. 'What's it going to be, girl? Are we going to stand here all day, watching Little Miss Lamp-spawn feel herself up one side and down the other... or, are we going to see what in the hell we can do about getting Gene back?' "Okay, sister!", Ann demanded in a belligerent huff that achieve the desired effect of securing the little blonde bombshell of a genie's attention. "Enough's enough! It's high time you stop playing grab-ass with yourself and tell me: just who in the hell are you and just what in the hell have you up and done with my husband? "You see, I want him back! And I want him back now! And if that going to take a wish on my part to achieve it... so be it! "I wish for my husband back!" With a pained look a sheer and utter desperation welling up out the depths of her sapphire blue eyes, the stunning, harem clad femme fatale, who, Ann noted, was still aimless and unconsciously plucking at the diaphanous material of her thong-bikini tethered pantaloons, among other things, despairingly and hesitantly replied, "Ann... it's me! Gene! Your husband!' "Get real!", Ann scoffed. "Look, dearie! I don't know what kind of scam you're trying to pull here, but I do know my husband! I can tell you: you ain't him! "He's a man! Your a woman! And never the twain shall meet!" "So cut the crap, sister! Just tell me what you've done with him and then, tell me what I need to do to get him back?" Assuming the hands outstretched stance and deportment of a humble and pleading supplicant, the harem clad little blonde hastily and passionately proceeded on to entreated Ann to hear her out. "Please... Ann!', her speech was strained. She stammered, fumbling for her words, "As crazy as it must surely sound... I not lying! What I told you before, Ann... is the truth! Regardless of the fact that I've now got a girl's body... I'm really... truly... am your husband, Gene! "Yeah! Right!", Ann, who's patient was wearing thin, countered with pure, unadulterated sarcasm, "And friggin' I'm the Queen of Sheba!" "Ann! Please! Please! You've got to believe me! I'm Gene... or... I was Gene... y'know, before I got sucked into that so and so of a lamp of your's and got somehow fitted out with this... this... this... damnable, femmed out to the friggin' max of a body!" Though she would have like to repudiate the lithe little blonde's assertion out of hand, give the fat that the very notion that her husband had somehow been magically turned into a girl, repulsed her to no end, Ann, who was, according to Gene, magnanimous to a fault, found that, given all the magical/mystical shit involved, the harem-clad girl might just be telling the truth. If the lamp could metaphysically digitalized someone into a whirling cyclone-like vortex and then, suck that digitalized, swirling funnel-like whatever into it's innards, she had to assume that a full blown sex change wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. As repugnant as the concept was to contemplate for Ann, the girl might really be Gene. "Alright! If you're are indeed my husband... reincarnated in female form... tell me: why did the lamp do this dastardly thing to you? I mean... have you been harboring a secret desire to be a woman, or what?" As the Gene-claimant (or should that be Gene- claimette) opened her mouth to respond to Ann's latest query, something untold occurred. For the span of several of Ann's rather exacerbated heart beats, the blonde bombshell's physique was riveted by an uncharacteristic, if not, unnatural rigidity. As it did so, Ann, who was standing about one full body's length away, perceived a strange and somewhat disquieting visual phenomenon surrounded the girl's supple form. In a fashion that mimicked the shadow- like image produced by the double-exposure of a single of frame of photographic film, the harem-clad femme fatale's body was silhouetted by a halo-like display of multiple, slightly off-set images, that, to Ann's perception, looked something akin to the visual effect produced by the rapid, blur-inducing, vibrations of a recently struck tuning fork. Then, with the abrupt cessation of that disquieting visual phenomenon and its' accompany induced physical rigidity, the exquisite blue-eyed blonde, who, to Ann's way of thinking, appeared complete oblivious to the phenomenon's occurrence, replied, "No, Ann! Regardless how it might appear, there's no way in hell that I was harboring some latent desire to be a woman! It was all the lamp's doing! "You see Ann, the opulent, desert warmonger of potentate who commissioned this particular lamp was very specific. Unlike most perspective magic lamp owners, who generally didn't give a tinker's damn about the sexual affiliation of their lamp's resident jinn... 'y'know, just as long as said jinn functioned as advertised... this particular potentate, given his darn near insatiable, if not, legendary apatite for beautiful women, desired his lamp's jinn to be brazeningly and beguilingly female. "So anyhow, Ann... having procured the necessary containment vessel... in this case, a rather mundane Persian oil lamp... the magic-user artisans who had undertaken the potentate's commission, having first skilfully ensnared the essential essence of an all powerful elemental being, imprisoned that essential metaphysical essence within the lamp. "However, before this cadre of magic-user artisans could introduce the required human element... y'know, that would, through some rather convoluted mystical manipulations, become bonded with the elemental being's essential essence, thusly creating the lamp's resident jinn, something out of the ordinary must have occurred and, for what ever reason, the human component was never introduced into the metaphysical equation. "Then, you come along and purchase the lamp. You cunningly entice me into cleaning it for you... y'know, via that intriguing offer of yours. And whalla! I innocently go and get myself sucked down inside of the dastardly thing where, unbeknownst to little old your's truly, I end up getting jinnhood whipped on me! And then, to top the whole inglorious thing off, given some very persnickety preset conditions that were just lounging around waiting to be enacted by the presence of the human element, I end up with a body that's - balls to the walls - about as bodaciously feminine as bodaciously feminine can be! "I mean... even on my good days, Ann... try as I might... I'd have a hell of a hard time conjuring up a sexual fantasy dream date that looks even half as spectacular as I friggin' do now!" "Oh, my God!", Ann exclaimed, conceding the fact that the alluring blonds was indeed her husband. "Gene! It is you, isn't it!" Gene, using his hands to give both of his newly installed mammary protrusion an emphasizing jiggle, "Yeah...", the tone of his newly honey sweeten voice clearly registering both his sarcasm and distress, "It's me! Your husband! And guess what, hon... not that I'm in any way, shape or form exactly thrilled about it... mine are bigger than your's!" "This is awful! Simply awful!", Ann concurred. "What are we going to do about it, Gene?" Once again the jinnified Gene Renyold's ultra femininized bod of a most bodacious body went stark raving rigid and underwent the multiple-image overlay thing-of-a-ma-bob that Ann had witness but a moment or so before. "Nothing that I know of Ann.", the blonde, blue eyed and amply breasted Gene replied, once the what- ya-ma-call-it of a thing-of-a-ma-bob had succinctly come and gone. "As far as I know, the effects of what happened to me... y'know, when I got yanked down into that lamp... are irreversible!" "But you're a genie now, aren't you Gene? And genies are reputed to possess rather substantial magically powers! So... if that's the case, Gene... couldn't I just wish you back to your former manly self?" Ann's inquiry seem to trigger yet another onset of the sort duration, multiple-image overlay thing-of- a-ma-bob phenomenon that had twice before visited themselves upon her newly transsexualized jinn of a husband. "Yes mistress, it is true that I have become the genie of the lamp. However, even though I now possess an almost unimaginable magical potential, should you wish me to resume my former form as a male, I regret that I will not be able to comply. The lamp will simply not allow me to do so. It was ordained long ago, by those long dead magical artisans that fashioned the lamp, that it was to house a beautiful female jinn. You may, should you elected to do so, direct me to alter my physical deployment to suit your whims. You can command me to either increase or decrease my present stature. Change the color of my hair. Make it long or short. Kinky or straight. You can command me to assume any or all the characteristic of any race. You can, should you so choose, have me increase or decrease the size of my breast. You can direct me to appear either a tad bit younger or a smidgen older. However, no matter what you elect, given the edicts present in the lamp, I will remain both female and beautiful." Ann had been so pre-occupied with something that her ultra feminized husband had said that she had been somewhat distracted and, though she believe that she had caught the gist of what he, as a she, had said, the details had, as they are apt to say, fallen by the wayside. "Did I hear you right?", Ann posed the question. "Did you just now call me 'mistress'?" "Yes mistress, I did.", Gene, with that new, honey sweet voice of his, returned flatly. "How come?" "Protocol, mistress. You are the rightful owner of the lamp. I am its' jinn. I therefore am to address you properly and 'mistress' is the proper term for a jinn to employ when addressing a woman who is possession of her lamp." "That's nonsense!", Ann heated countered. "You may be the genie of the lamp now, but your also my husband, Gene! And I'll be damned if my husband... even if he's up and turned into a genie and been femmed out to the friggin' max in the process... is going to call me 'mistress'! Ann, honey or any form of endearment will suffice! So, let's loose the 'mistress' crap! Okay?" "Yes, Misss... - Ann! I will endeavor to heed your wishes!" "Good! At least we've taken care of that particular fly in the ointment!", Ann commented, feeling like she had made at least a little progress in trying to get a handle on the situation. "Now Gene... now that you and I have an understanding about that 'mistress' crappolla, let's also loose all this formality bullcrap that seems to have cropped up here of late! Okay? You're you... Well... you're not the you that you use to be... but you know what I mean, don't you, Gene?" "Yes, Misss... - Ann! I do. I will try to do as you ask. However, miss... - Ann, I need you to be aware that I dealing with a whole slew of preset conditions and compulsions. So please, bear with me. I might - from time to time - lapse and miss-speak myself." "Fair enough!", Ann returned. "Now, Gene... due to that 'mistress' crappolla of yours... I might have been a wee bit distracted. So, let me get something straight here. Did you... or did you not say something to the effect that you are unable to turn yourself back into a man?" "Yes, Misss... - Ann, I did. While you can direct me to modify my appearance to suit your whims, regrettable, the lamp was designed to house a beautiful female jinn and so, a female jinn I will remain." "Alright...", Ann replied thoughtfully. "Let's see... "Gene! Do you remember the Disney film 'Aladin'?" "Yes, Misss... - Ann, I do.", Gene's honey sweetened voice return, registering his confusion as to where his wife was going with this new tact of her's. "Well... at the end of the movie Aladin freed the genie with his last and final wish. So... I was wondering if I could do likewise and gain your freedom with wish?" For a third time, rigidity, accompanied by the multiple-image overlay thing-of-a-jig-of-a-ma-bob of a short-lived seizure, momentarily imposed itself on Gene Renyold's ultra feminized bod of a most striking and bodacious body. "No!", Gene pleaded. "That's not a good idea, mistress! Sorry! Ann!" "And just why isn't it, Gene?" "Because, Ann... were you do that... given the fact that the elemental half of the new me is a whole hell of a lot more powerful than the human half of me... once freed, the elemental half of me would skedaddle back to the neither realms it and its' kind inhabit, taking the human half of the new and thoroughly feminized me right along with it!" "Oh!", Ann quipped. "Then, I guess that isn't a viable idea." "No, Misss... - Ann! It most assuredly isn't! "While I'm anything but ecstatic about my current situation... y'know, what with me and my being a femmed out to the friggin' max of lamp housed jinn... given the chaotic charged impressions I have of the metaphysical neither realms of existence, I'll take the this jinnified harem girl shit any day of the friggin' week!" "Okay!", Ann concurred. "So were does that leaves us?" "Back at the beginning, Misss... - Ann. You are the lamp's rightfully owner. I am its' resident jinn. Your wish, therefore, is my command." "Hmm...", Ann tone was thoughtful. "So... how many wishes do I get, Gene? The customary three?" Ann's question, or so she presumed, triggered yet another brief duration, rigid, image-overlay whatever- you-want-to-call-it of a fit to invest itself upon her blonde haired, blue eyed, amply endowed, harem girl- clad, jinn femme fatale of once upon a short time ago of a husband. "No, Misss... - Ann!", Gene replied once the seizure had come and gone, "You are not constrained to a mere three wishes. As long as you remain the rightful owner of the lamp, my magic is your's to command." "Are you saying,", Ann, seeking qualification, proceeded on to inquiry, "that I have an unlimited number of wishes?" "Yes, Mmmm... - Ann... that's is correct." "However,", Gene continued, endeavoring to qualify his prior statement, "you should be aware, Ann... that a jinn is much like a common, ordinary, everyday battery, given the fact that I have only so much magical potential available to me during any physical manifestation of mine. When that magical potential is spent, I must return to the lamp to re- charge myself. Also, you should be aware that, out of necessity, I will be forced, from time to time, to return to my lamp in order to replenish the elemental aspect of this new make-up of mine. "But getting back to subject of wishes... Let me re-assure you, Mmmm... - Ann! While some jinns have been fashion by their makers to be first class tricksters, abiding by the letter of the stated wish and not by intent of the intoner's desires, have no fear. I have not been fashion to be that sort of jinn. If you will allow me the liberty, when and wherever possible, I will endeavor to aid you in fashioning and phrasing your wishes so as to assure that whatever goal or outcome you desire is fully achieve. "When in doubt, Ann, fear not. I shall seek your clarification. "Alright?" "Yeah...", Ann, who appeared somewhat befuddled about something or other, readily agreed, "Sounds good to me! "Gene!", Ann intoned, with the implication being that another question had pooped into her head. "Yes...", Gene replied, as he, as the amply endowed she that he had become, unconsciously reached up and, jostling his right mammary protrusion, adjusted its' deployment within the cup of the golden satin halter top it - his recently distended boobie - resided within. "Tell me something!" "If I can, Mmmm... - Ann." "Every now and again... seemingly when I ask you a question... something strange occurs." "It does?" "Yes, Gene. It does." "Like what?" "Like you go all rigid! And then, for just a quick second or so, you undergo some sort of... what I can only describe as... some sort of out of phase juxtapose of your image. It's like you go out of sync with yourself and one after another of your images gets sort of superimposed on top of the others... "What gives, Gene? What's happening?" "Oh, that...", Gene appeared nonchalant about Ann's observations. "It's nothing. To tell you the truth, Ann, I wasn't aware that it was even noticeable." "Well it is! And I'd really like to know why you keep doing it!", Ann demanded tersely. "The explanation is rather simple", Gene began as he absentmindedly began to once again crassly and oafishly grope his newly reconstructed crotch, endeavoring - in a vain effort - to re-position the male anatomy that he - as a she - no longer sported. "As you know, Mmmm... - Ann, there wasn't a whole hell of a lot of elapse time between my getting sucked into the lamp and your subsequent summoning me forth. And because there wasn't, I hadn't even begun to assimilate all the various shit that I needed to know to function as a jinn. "Fact is, Ann: I had just completed bonding with the essence of the lamp-ensnared elemental when you summoned me forth. And due that, when I re- materialized, I had little or no information about my new status as a jinn. I knew who was and who I had been. I mean... this jinnhood of mine didn't go fiddle-fucking around with my prior memory or anything. As far as I can tell: my memory is still intact. "Would you believe that as incredulous as it must surly sound, I retained my awareness all throughout the process. I knew - instinctively - that the lamp had been the prime mover in the whole affair. I knew that it had somehow turned my body into a friggin' swirling metaphysical atomized vortex. And even when I existed in the form of that swirling metaphysical atomized vortex, I was aware of the fact that I was being sucked down into lamp's innards. And though it defies my ability to accurately articulate, once my atomized ethereal essence was within the lamp, I became keenly aware that something extraordinary was occurring... that I was undergoing so sort of monumental change... that I was becoming part of a larger... or, I guess you could say... more powerful being... "But that - in a nut shell - is about it, Ann. Logic... had I been thinking clearly... which it's rather evident and easy to understand why I wasn't... given all the fantastic and incomprehensible shit that was going on inside of there...", Gene, gesturing, in an off-handed manner, towards the lamp that his wife still clutched, continued in a halting fashion, "...would have told me that I was being transformed into a wish-granting jinn of a genie. "However, even if I had had the presence of mind to figure out what was happening to me... y'know, during the initial elemental assimilation process... y'know, that up and turned me into a fully functioning, wish-fulfilling jinn... I wasn't aware that the lamp was also fiddle-fucking around with my sexual affiliation as well." "You mean...", Ann was incredulous, "...that you weren't aware that you were being turned into a woman?" "No! Not while I was in there.", Gene, gesturing toward the lamp again. "The first indication I had that something was amiss... that my body had undergone a full blown... knock down... dragged out... no holds bar transsexualization... was when I materialized... or... I probably should have been more accurate and said... shortly thereafter... y'know, like when I... in my discombobulated state... became aware that I was decked out something other than the clothes I had been wearing... y'know, when I got sucked inside of the lamp... "Well anyhow, Mmmm... - Ann! Once I realized that I wasn't wearing what I knew I had been wearing, I did what any non-jinnified person would have done in a similar set of circumstances! Y'know, as in I endeavored to see just what in the hell I was wearing! "Okay! So I look down... y'know, to scope myself out... and I find that my view is all but blocked off by these two, rather hefty, semi-satin encased mounds of flesh... that... I couldn't help but thinking... would have looked just dandy on another woman! "Then it hit me! Those fleshy, semi-satin encased, nipple surmounted, chest protrusions were none other than my own fleshy, semi-satin encased, nipple surmounted chest protrusions! "In other words, Mmmm... - Ann... to my sheer and utter dismay, I came to the sad and awful contemplation that I had somehow become the other woman. A quick, rather frenzied hand thrust to this newly re-vamped crotch of mine, proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt." "Oh!,", Ann interjected with a restrained, but noticeable inflexion of glee evident in her voice. "That explains why you were playing that frantic game of grab-ass with yourself!" "Exactly!" "Well...", Ann countered thoughtfully. "That's all well and good, Gene... and I know that it had to be extremely unnerving and unsettling to find yourself decked out in a body of the opposite sex... but what - pray tell - does all this have to do with those multiple-image producing seizures that I asked you about?" "Patience, Mmmm... - Ann! I getting to 'em! Gene, continuing, "You see Ann, your summons sort of preempted the jinnification process in... shall we say... mid stream. Now, while the essence unification and sexual re-classification aspects were a done deal of a feat accompli, I had yet to be brought up to snuff of all the 'in's and out's' of this genie business. In other words, I was still unaware of all the particulars... y'know, like in the 'do's and don't's' and the 'where as's and what for's'. "So... when you ask me a question that I don't know the answer to, the lamp kicks in; takes me off- line - so to speak - and fills me in on what I need to answer your question." "You mean...", Ann, seeking clarification, asked, "...it work's something like a computer program that has to pause and access its' hard drive to procure some required information?" "Yes, Mmmm... - Ann! That's an apt analogy of how it works! "Eventually, the lamp will bring me up to snuff on everything I need to know to function as a jinn and I won't experiences those so called multiple-image overlay-like seizures of yours. In fact... even now... as we speak... I becoming privy to more and more pertinent information. Soon, I will be fully appraised and conditioned." "Does that mean that you'll soon become a whole hell of a lot more comfortable with that new body of yours than you are now?" "No, Ann. I don't believe that I will. You see... the magic-using artisans who prepared this lamp probably, but not necessarily, planned on employing a female - be that female: salve, captive or willing participant - for the human component of the jinn equation, due to the persnickety fact that there seems to be no onboard magical sub-routines to re-sexualize this manly mind of mine. Now, while it's entirely within the realm of possibility for them to have used a man... y'know, instead of a woman... they sure as shit didn't give a rat's ass about converting his sexual orientation to that of a woman. Had they employed a man, it was probably done as a form of punishment... y'know, that would sentence the poor unfortunate bastard to spend the rest of eternity incarcerated within a body that is in totally and abject disharmony with his mind. However... now that I think about... there has to be some sort of onboard magical sub-routine that addresses manly mannerisms; for - I do believe - I seem to have lost all of that overtly mannish awkwardness that I initially exhibited upon materializing in this scandalously clad and amply endowed bod of a most bodacious body that I've been so ignominiously and underhandedly fitted out in. "I mean... to my way of thinking... I seem to be a whole hell of a lot more graceful than I was but a few short moments ago!" "Yes...", Ann concurred. "I believe you're right on the money about that, Gene. You definitely are a whole lot more graceful than you were at first. Now, if you could just stop yourself from alternating between a crass game of grab-ass and a very unlady- like pastime of titty-tweak, I'd have to say: that you're demurrer would be about as gracefully feminine as graceful feminine could ever hope to possible be. "Say...", Ann continued on. "I've got an idea! "Since you say that wishing you back into former manly self isn't a viable option... maybe... if your not averse to the idea, Gene... I could make a wish that would - in essence - alter your mind's sexual orientation..." "You mean...", Gene sought clarification. "Mmmm... - Ann! Are you suggesting that you could make a wish that would - in effect - completely girlify me?" "Yes! I mean... wouldn't it be easier for you if your mind was in sexual sync with your body, Gene?" "Yes, Mmmm... - Ann! It would. But let's not be hasty! Before you make such a wish - Please! I implore you! Let's consider all the ramifications first! "I mean... while I'm not exactly ecstatic about the current situation... what with me and this new bod of body of mine... being male... if it's only in my mind... is all that I have of my former life! And, since it is, as crazy as it might sound, Ann, I'd kind of like to hold onto that part of my life for as long as possible. "Besides... Mmmm - Ann! I don't think a wish like that is going to work anyhow. You see, though I have yet to be... shall we say... apprised of all the myriad details involved with that sort of thing... it appears that while you can dicker around with my appearance to your heart's content... deck me out in any apparel that suits you fancy... there's seems to be a whole caboodle of constraints and admonitions against you doing something of that nature. "In other words, Mmmm... - Ann... while you can... I guess you say... optimize my appearance... as long as it remains thoroughly and exquisitely female... as much as you want... the magic-user artisans who preconditioned this lamp of mine... didn't want anyone fooling around with its' baseline programing. "Well...", Ann began dismissive, "Maybe... if we both put our minds to it... we can come up with something that'll help to either eradicate or, at least ease, that sexual identity dilemma of your's, Gene. "Yeah... Maybe... ", Gene, shrugging his fully exposed shoulders in a manner that was very reminiscent of his former manly self, despondently replied. "Though I'm not going to hold out any get hope that we'll succeed. Maybe... just maybe... you and I can come up with something... At least, we can try..." Just then, on what might be termed a subliminal level, Ann became keenly aware of two things. With an 'Oh, my God!' resounding in her mind, Ann Renyolds came to the irrefutable realization that the fully feminized, little harem-clad platinum blonde bombshell's mannerism where - beyond the shadow of a doubt - those of her husband's. And two, following closely on the heels of the first: that her husband's characteristic, though thoroughly herified mannerisms, spoke clearly to the fact that he - as a fully embodied she - was becoming increasing agitated. 'Shit!', Ann thought. 'This girllie-whirllie shit is really getting to him! I've got to do something! And I've to do it fast! Else wise, he's going to blow his cool and flip-out on me! And, I'm afraid, that won't do either one of us any good!' "Gene!", Ann, endeavoring to change the direction of their conversation and therefore get his mind off of his sexual ambiguity, resumed brightly. "How about we try a wish?" Gene, according his herified self in very genie- like manner, folded his muscular denuded arms beneath the twins mounds of his semi-satin showcased secondary sexual apparatus and succinctly responded, "Yes, Mmmm... - Ann!". "Can we try a small wish? Y'know, just so I can get a handle on how this wish thing works?" "Yes, Mmmm... - Ann! Your wish is my command!" Stumped for a moment as to what - exactly - she should wish for, Ann aimless glanced around the kitchen, desperately searching for something simple to wish for. Then, as her gaze, returned to the beguiling, though clearly distraught figure of her harem girl clad husband, a quirky and mildly sadistic notion came upon her. Thinking that, 'What was good for the gander, was good for the goose... and vice versa', and with a distinctly impish inflection resonating clearly in her voice, Ann Renyolds began the preamble to her first wish. "Those golden hued, curly toed, Persian slippers that you more or less came pre-packaged in, Gene, are simply adorable. And they look to me to be quite comfortable... "Are they, Gene? Are they as comfortable as they appear to be?" Gene, having first glanced down to check out the flat soled slippers he - as a she - was decked out in for his herified self, stated somewhat bemused and bewilderedly, "Yes. Though I hadn't paid 'em any notice before... now that you mention it, Ann... yes... they are quite comfortable." "Good!", Ann continued with some humor lacing her voice, "I'm glad to hear that, Gene." "Why?", Ann's comment had begged Gene's query. "Because... oh, husband of mine... ever since I've known you... you've been on me to wear high heels. Leg flattering, toe scrunching, stiletto heeled pumps... "Well... now that you're a woman... "Ann!", Gene, barging in on his wife' unfinished statement, pleadingly intoned. "Ann! You're not proposing what I think you're proposing?" "I most certainly am!", Ann remained resolute. "For my first wish, I wish for those Persian slippers of yours to be replaced... or changed into... or whatever you have to do... to fit yourself out in a pair of your classic, high heeled pumps!" "Heel size?", though it grated on him to be forced into doing such, Gene heard his herified self asking for his wife's clarification. "Hmmm... four inches - I think - should suffice." "Color?" "Gold... Metallic gold!" "Open toed or closed toe?" "Close toed. Y'know, the kind of pumps I'm talking about, Gene! Y'know, the kind that you like to refer to as dick-teaser specials... the very same kind that you like to seeing me prancing around in!" "Anything else?" "No... that should do the trick!", Ann chuckled "Granted." And it was done. Without flash or fanfare, the Persian slippers that Gene's feminine form was initially decked out in, instantaneously became a pair of shimmering metallic, golden hued, stiletto heeled, leg enhancing, fuck-the-living-shit-out-of-me pumps, causing Gene's elfin-like stature to gain a fully four inches of height in the process. "Wow!", Ann exclaimed. "That was neat! Really, really neat! And you managed it without a head bob... or a nose scrunching... or a hand flourish... or anything! "I'm impressed! "Okay! Let's try something else! "Let's see... "Okay! I know! "Gene... since both you and I prefer silver over gold, how 'bout you change everything your wearing that's gold into silver." Nothing happened. "Gene... what's wrong?", Ann, perplexed, questioned. "Is that it? Do I only get one wish and I've used that one wish of mine up turning those Persian slippers of your's into a pair of high heeled pumps? I mean... I thought you said that I get as many wishes as I want!" "You do, Ann. However, you have to phrase your request in the formalized wording of a wish." "Oh! Okay! I can do that! "I wish that everything that your wearing that is of a golden cast be changed into a dazzling silver hue." "Granted.", Gene's honey sweet voice resonated with the obligatory reply of a magic wielding jinn. And, once again, without any noticeable effort on Gene's part, the deed was done. Everything that Ann's jinnified husband had been so fetchingly decked out in that was of a golden coloration, became, in the twinkling of an instant, a most becoming and scintillating silver. "Yes! I like that!", Ann commented. "The blue and silver color combination seems to suits you a whole lot better than the blue and gold one did. "Now, what do I wish for next?", Ann mused. "World peace? The eradication of all diseases? An end to poverty?" "Sorry, Mmmm... - Ann!", Gene's sultry voice chimed in. "No can do! Your wishes cannot be of such a grandiose nature. They can only effect you, or in certain cases, people or things that you either associate with or are in close proximity to... "For explain, while I am fully capable of changing... shall we say... the Statue of Liberty into a small figurine... y'know, that you could easily pick up and carry around in either your pocket or your purse, I am not allowed to do it from here... even though I'm fully capable of doing it from here. However, if you and I were there - y'know, visiting the Statue of Liberty, and you... for some nonsensical reason... made such a wish, then it would be a whole other ball game. "Or...", Gene continued, "Let's say that you were at some restaurant... enjoying a really nice dinner... and that there's this thoroughly obnoxious fellow seated at the next table over from yours... and he is giving everybody... including his date... a hard way to go... creating a who lot of unnecessary tension in the process... and you up and decided that you've had enough and that you are going to do something somewhat Twilight Zoneish about it. "Okay. Having come to a decision to do something about Mr. Obnoxious, you summon me forth and direct me to... to... to..." "Turn him into a thumb sucking infant!", Ann suggested in a most conspiratorially manner. "Alright! So you make this wish that will have me turn Mr. Obnoxious into a thumb sucking infant." "I can actually have you do something like that? I can actually direct you - via a wish - to change a fully grown person into a baby?", Ann, chuckling, sought clarification. "Yes. Should you elected to have me do something of that nature, be advised, Ann, that it is fully within the purview of my jinnhood's operational parameters. "Oh! Well... that puts this wishing business in a totally different light!", Ann gleefully replied. "I do believe that this wishing business might turn out to be a whole lot of fun!" Then, after a prolonged moment of thought filled silence, Ann took up where she had left off. "Okay! So, I can't play Little Ms. Humanitarian and right all the wrongs of this world..." "No, Mmmm... - Ann! That sort of thing isn't allowed." "But I can... I guess you could say... indulge myself." "Yes, Mmmm... - Ann! That is what my lamp was primarily designed for. Self indulgence." "You know something, Gene? It isn't fair!" "What isn't fair?" "That bodacious, built like a brick shithouse of a body of yours! "I mean... here I've been a female all of my life and do I have a body like that? "No, Gene! I most certainly do not! "But I will!", Ann said coyly. "I most surly will... "Gene, for my next wish, I want you to re- sculpture this body of mine! I want you to make it almost... but not quite... a carbon copy of the one that the lamp fitted you out with! I want to be just as stunningly gorgeous as you are! But... I want to retain... what you might call... a semblance of my former self! "In other words, Gene... I want people to still be able recognize me as Ann Renyolds! "Is what I'm asking possible? Can you do something like that?" "Yes. What you request, Mmmm... - Ann, is easily achieved." "Alright then, that is my wish! Make me gorgeous!" "Granted." And it was. The pert, perky and formerly handsomely pretty Ann Renyolds became the drop dead gorgeous rendition of her former self. Then, unable to adequately inspect the full blown effect of the physical enhancements that her femmified, jinnified and harem-clad husband had dutifully wrought upon her, Ann, anxious as all get- out to scope out her magically re-formatted self, wished for and receive a free-standing, full length, oaken framed, dressing mirror. Having done so, one quick, almost frantic glance in the mirror was enough to appraise Ann of the fact that the baggy jeans, her husband's overlarge sweatshirt and grass stained tennis shoes that she was wearing greatly inhibited her ability to adequately peruse and admire her newly re-configured body. If she was going to indulge her sense of raging and eager curiosity, they had to go. "Gene!", she snapped. "Yes, Mmmm... - Ann!" "We need to do something about these clothes I'm wearing! Y'know, so I can get a better idea of what this new body of mine looks like! "So... my wish is for you to use that vivid imagination of your's and deck me out in something that's straight out of a Fredrick's of Hollywood's Catalog! Something slinky! Something sexy! Something that's... as they say... sure to tease! Y'know, Gene... one of those dick-teaser specials that you... when you think I'm not aware of what's going on... like to lewd and lasciviously gawk at!" "Granted." Ann's jeans, sweatshirt and sneakers were gone, replaced by a low cut, form fitting, endowment showcasing, wisp of a scintillating, male libido torquing, lustrous, black hued, fellows-feast-your- ever-lovin'-eyes-on-me, lycra/spandex, sock-it-to me, cocktail dress; a pair of leg flattering, chocolate brown, pantyhose and a pair of your damn near obligatory, black patent leather, stiletto heeled pumps. "This is terrific! Absolutely terrific!", Ann delightfully exclaimed as she incredulously feasted her eyes upon the mirror and the image that was so resplendently displayed upon its' silverized surface. "I don't know how you did it, Gene! But you did it! And you did it good! "I mean... I'm me! Albeit, an extremely enhanced me! "I mean... there's absolutely no doubt at all about that! And no one who knows me is going to mistake me for anybody else but me! "I mean...", Ann beamed as she continued to admire her magical made-over and decked out to the hilt self, "While I might have been considered a solid shoe-in for a seven... falling somewhere in between being one of your run of the mill, Plain Jane, girl next door types and being classified as on the lower cusp of being thought of as actually pretty... you've gone turned me into a glamor girl to end all glamor girls, Gene! I mean... if I do say so myself... and I do... while this outfit you've decked me out in is about as scandalous as scandalous can be... making me look like some sort of high classed, Washington based hooker... I've got to admit that I'm beautiful! Absolutely... no holds bar... stunningly beautiful! "My breast...", Ann declared gleefully, as her hands reached up and, after a quick reassuring squeeze or two to ensure herself that they were indeed the genuine articles and not, some sort of silicon facsimile there of, she proceed on to cradled those magically enhanced endowments of her's and proudly presented them for not only her own inspection, but her jinnified husband's as well. "Look at 'em, Gene! They're fantastic! Not to large... yet not to small either! I love 'em! I absolutely love 'em! "I mean... all my life I've dreamed of having breast like these..." "Yeah...", Gene, gravely dishearten, concurred. "I use to fantasize about you having a set just like those as well... Unfortunately... now that I gone and gotten myself all jinnified... I'm sporting a pair just like 'em!" Ann, thinking that the best way to handle her husband's most unfortunate and demoralizing situation was to just ignore his snide and disparaging remarks, proceeded on to ponder her next wish. "Okay! Now that we've taken care of my figure, let's tackle this hair of mine. "First off, Gene... since you seem to have cornered the platinum blonde franchise... and since I really don't want to look exactly like you do... I wish that this mousy hair of mine was a lustrous, strawberry blonde." "Granted." Ann's hair went from being a dirty blonde to a rich, shimmering, strawberry blonde. "Okay! That's good for starters! Now, I wish my hair had a whole lot more body and just a hint of curl around the edges." "Granted." Ann face was immediately framed in a most flattering, covergirl-like cascade of the most stylish, honey golden tresses imaginable. "Yes! It's perfect! It's almost as if you had read my mind, Gene!" "To a degree, I did." "You can do that? Really? You can actually read my mind?" "In a sense, yes.", Gene replied matter-o'- factly. "Okay...", Ann countered skeptically, "If you can read my mind, tell me! What am I thinking about now?" "The impressions I get suggest that you're thinking that you're not to keen on the notion that I can, in a manner of speaking, read your mind... "Now, your thinking that you might make a wish to prevent me from reading your mind... "But, you can't do that, Mmmm... - Ann." "And just why can't I?", Ann tersely demanded. "Because, I would be unable to grant such a wish." "How come?" "Because,", Gene replied, "To do so would be an encroachment on my ability to function as a jinn and that, I'm sad to say, cannot... nor, will not be tolerated. "Oh...", Ann was a little taken aback by the revelation. "Then do me a favor, Gene." "If I can... Mmmm... - Ann." "Even if you can read my mind and find yourself compelled to continue to do so... please... in the future... don't tell me about. Y'know... because... though I'd much rather that you didn't... y'know, read my mind... I'd really rather not know about it when you do. Alright?" "Yes, mistress." Feigning ire, Ann quipped, "Hey! We talked about this 'mistress' crappolla before! I want it stopped and I want it stopped now! "Look! If I have to, I'll phrase it in the form of a wish, if that'll help!" "Couldn't hurt, Mmmm... - Ann." "Alright, then! I wish that you would never - ever - address me as 'mistress' again, Gene! Furthermore, I wish that you would call me Ann... or... for that matter... anyone of those endearments that you use to use... y'know, when you were a man!" "Granted." "Okay!", Ann was on a roll. "While we're at it, I want to make something perfectly clear. Though you might have the same sort of sexual equipment that I have now, Gene... I still consider you my husband and myself, your wife... and that ain't going to change! "In fact... to insure that it won't.