Games Genies Play Part 6 of 6
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Games Genies Play Part 3 Of 6 free porn video
That which is sculpted in the Hall of Clay comes to life the next day.
Most do not survive long, few artists design for life. The majority of
those that live fall prey to each other. A few survive and may one day be
seen in the world at large.
In another hall, the Sands of Time fall to the floor and all of history
litters the floor. Artists rearrange the sands to paint histories that
never happened, which is why DaVinci's flying machine can be found over
the Battle of Gettysburg.
At the center of the woeful city, rising to unimaginable heights, is the
Bell Tower, which will ring only once in all of history. Near the top of
this tower, but not at the top - nothing has ever reached its top - is a
gathering of genies with such power that they cast a pall over the city
far below. None will risk being overheard and drawing their wrath.
"So. Now. Wait. Lemme see if I got this. We're going to tell them how
we'll twist their wishes."
"Right-o. That's the game. Toss me anudder pint, will you?"
"But, if we tell 'em, won't they, like, not wish?"
"If they don't, you lose, tosspot."
"I never had no one not wish. Not happenin' now neither."
"So are you in?"
"Game on."
"Not yet. I gotta pee."
---
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a
far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." When he
finished, Carl gently closed the book and reached over to stroke the old
woman's hand.
"Did you like that one, my dear? I know Christmas Carol's always been
your favorite, but I thought a change might be good. I talked to David
last night, and he tells me..." The old man kept talking even though she
never responded. She just stared straight ahead. When he stopped speaking
she reached out to him, putting her hand awkwardly on his rich silver
hair. He smiled at her with a tear in his eye.
A nurse was by the door when he finally left. "Today's one of her good
days, Mr. Schmidt. She was happy you were here."
"Yes," he answered sadly. "I think she remembered me today. It was nice
to see her smile again."
"You don't have to come every day, you know. We will take care of her.
And, I'm afraid, she wouldn't know."
"She wouldn't, but I would. She's my wife, and I'd miss her."
The nurse gave him a bittersweet smile before turning away. "Let me get
you some water before you head back outside."
"Thank you, young lady," he answered and sat down. He rested his cane
against the wall. He tried to bear the pain in his hip with equanimity,
especially after seeing the ravages his wife had to bear.
He walked back to his cabin. One of the reasons he and Marjorie chose
this nursing home was the private quarters you could enjoy as long as you
remained able-bodied. For a time they'd lived in the home together, but
when her Alzheimer's got worse she had to move into the hospital full
time. Though he saw her every day he still missed her.
He told himself he was walking slowly so he could enjoy the grounds. It
had nothing to do with the pain in his hip that forced him to walk with a
cane. It had nothing to do with heading back to a dark and empty home and
an afternoon alone. If he was going to delude himself, he resolved to do
a good job of it. He tried to enjoy the flowers.
In the end it wasn't the flowers that held his attention, but the
children. The small playground was busy with someone's grandchildren
yelling and chasing and trying to climb up the slide the wrong way.
In his mind's eye he saw his oldest son Tommy trying to slide while
standing up. He had tumbled off the side and wound up with his arm in a
sling. Marjorie cried and lectured him on safety. Carl worried, but
didn't want his boy to be afraid to try new things, so he told him
"Anything good comes with risks. Remember what the view was like from up
top." Tommy once told him that was the best advice he'd ever gotten.
A touch of depression welcomed him home. Turning on the lights helped,
but the house was still empty.
He went right to the curio cabinet. It was Marjorie's pride and joy since
she bought it forty years ago. She displayed the pictures and treasures
they collected during a lifetime together. She used to change them every
week so they would always see different parts of their life.
Carl had teased her each time she changed the display. When she first
went to the hospital he left the cabinet as it was so he could hold on to
her last display. It didn't work, and soon he started changing the
displays. Oddly, he felt closer to her that way. It was like a part of
her was still with him.
Carefully taking her box of treasures from the closet, he opened it up
and started rooting through the pictures and knick knacks. A wealth of
memories greeted him with every photo.
The better Marjorie was doing, the less likely he was to display pictures
of the two of them. Instead he picked pictures she would have liked. This
week he decided to show off the kids. Somewhat whimsically he chose
pictures of their children when they were five, and grandkids at ten. He
was amused by remembering the children when they were younger than their
own kids.
To keep Marjorie's style he couldn't stop with pictures. He pulled out
souvenirs from trips with the children. He found a small plastic
Aladdin's Lamp from a trip they took to Disney World with their grandkids
Donna and Peter.
Donna was married now and lived in Virginia Beach, while Peter was still
in high school. His mother told him she thought Peter had a girlfriend
but didn't want to admit it. Peter had shown him how to use Skype, so
Carl considered calling him and trying to tease it out of him. It used to
drive Marjorie crazy how much he'd tease all the grandkids.
They'd been together so long. There just wasn't any part of his life that
didn't make him think of her.
"They're very nice pictures," said a young woman from behind him.
He turned around slowly. "Are you new here? I don't think we've met. I'm
Carl Schmidt. Is it already time for my medicine?"
The woman didn't look like a nurse. She had rose harem pants, of all
things, with a green and red vest that revealed a bit more of her chest
than was professional. Not that he planned to complain, of course.
"No," she laughed, "I'm not a nurse. I'm a genie. My name is Daphne, and
that," she pointed to the plastic toy, "is my home you're rubbing."
"I'm... sorry," he said while setting the toy down carefully. "I don't get
company very often, and even more rarely such a lovely young lady. So why
don't I just take your word for it?"
She looked at him expectantly, so he added. "If you're here to rob me, I
don't have much. It's not like I'm in any shape to fight back. If you're
willing to entertain an old man first, I can offer you some tea."
"You're really clever, aren't you? You're expecting one of the nurses to
stop by soon, and you're trying to delay me until then."
"All right, you got me. Take what you want. I doubt I could do anything
to stop you."
"No one's going to come by. I'll make sure of it. And Carl, I'm not here
to rob you. I meant what I said. I'm a genie. I'm here to grant you your
wishes."
With a small leer, he said, "Oh dear young lady, I'm afraid I'm just not
up to it. Even ten years ago you might have made my wishes come true, but
now..."
He'd played the dirty old man before. He threatened to steal his
daughter-in-law away from Tommy every time they got together, and she
played along shamelessly. They kept Tommy veering between annoyed and
embarrassed. Marjorie never minded their games, rather she enjoyed it
when he used the same lines on her.
"Tell you what," Daphne said, "let me explain the rules, and then you can
decide whether to-- take advantage or not," she added with a leer and a
laugh of her own.
He took a deep breath and nodded at her to continue.
"You have three wishes, but have to make them all before I grant any of
them. Each wish must involve a number, and the numbers may not share any
prime factors or I don't grant any of them. I can rearrange the numbers
at will. Have you got that?"
She was serious. She might be crazy, but she believed what she was
saying. Then again, he thought, maybe he was the one who was crazy. Here
was a chance to make wishes and he was doubting it. What was the harm?
Maybe he'd been wrong about magic all his life, and wouldn't that be
exciting?
"All right, Daphne. I'll make my wishes. But first, let me make that tea
I offered you."
---
"We used to have loose leaf tea," he told her while he tapped his way
back into the kitchen. "It was one of Marjorie's indulgences. We always
managed to find it, no matter where we were. None around here, though, so
all I've got is tea bags."
He was falling into the old man trap of lionizing the good-old-days. He
knew better. He turned on the electric kettle. It was faster and cleaner
than burning on the stove. And it was plastic, so it was easier to keep
clean. Wonderful stuff.
He still didn't like tea bags.
"Thank you for the tea," Daphne said. "Will you let me pour?"
"Thank you," he answered, sitting back. "It's nice having guests. I don't
get to do this often enough."
"What about all those pictures?" she asked. "Don't your children come to
visit?"
"They do," he admitted. "When they can. They could never visit as much as
I'd like, of course. They don't come as often recently; they don't like
seeing their mother like she is, and I can't blame them. They've all
offered to let me stay with them, but I don't want to leave her."
"Won't your neighbors wonder what I'm doing here?"
"No, I don't think so. If anyone sees you, he'll just assume you're one
of my grandchildren, or maybe that you're someone else's but you're being
nice and visiting a lonely old man." He laughed. "I think your reputation
is safe."
He decided to have a little fun with the girl while they had their tea.
He launched into one of his favorite stories, when he and Marjorie took a
trip to San Francisco before they had any children. While seeing the
sights, they joined with a crowd to protest the war. It was less a
protest than an excuse to smoke and party.
They wound up sleeping together in a public park and getting arrested for
it. An exasperated judge let them go after a stern lecture. Soon after,
Marjorie got pregnant with Tom. Carl always liked to believe that was
when it happened.
He was quite proud of his story; he got the pretty young genie to blush.
Suddenly she peered out the window, distracted.
"Carl," she said seriously, "you want to use your wishes to save your
wife, don't you?"
"Of course," he answered. "Still thinking about how, but--"
"There are boundaries I don't cross. Make your wishes. Now."
"Oh no. God no." He understood exactly what she was saying.
"You have time. Make your wishes."
"I wish-- I wish my wife and I were 21 years old again."
"Got it. Keep going."
"I wish I had a job I could work at and be happy with for 40 years."
"Good. Please hurry."
"Let's see," he mumbled, "That's 2, 3, 5, and 7." He'd helped his
children and grandchildren through math classes. "Good. Then I wish we
owned the house at 19 Cherry Lane in Virginia Beach." Near their
granddaughter, Donna.
She smiled. "You made it in time Carl. Wishes granted."
An old woman nearby idly wondered why the oddly dressed young lady was
coming out of the empty cabin. Probably checking it out for her parents
or grandparents. Then she forgot about it.
---
For the first time in years, Carl did not wake up in pain. His joints
didn't hurt, his hip was not bothering him. He was comfortable.
Best of all, better than all the rest, there was someone else with him.
He could feel warmth, feel the sheets pull, feel the mattress dip, feel
her. He wanted to weep with joy, but didn't want to wake up Marjorie.
Trying his best to lie still, his excitement broke out in an
irrepressible grin.
The bed shook as Marjorie suddenly bolted upright. "My God, what
happened?" It wasn't her voice. It was deep. Male.
Shocked, Carl jerked himself up too and could tell that he wasn't in his
old body. He had breasts and was wearing a nightie. He was a woman.
First things first. "Marjorie?" he asked. His high pitched voice was
strange to his ears, but he could deal with that later. His wife, if
that's who this was, came first.
"C-- Carl?" the man next to him asked.
He almost collapsed in joy. "It's me, my dear. It's me." The man in bed
with him was a stranger, he'd never seen him before. It didn't matter. He
didn't have the slightest doubt in his mind. This was Marjorie. His
Marjorie. "This might be a little hard to explain..."
The man took a deep breath and looked straight at Carl. "If you tell me,
I'll believe it." Carl could see it in her eyes. Marjorie knew him, too.
He explained about the genie, the wishes, and the conditions. He left off
the literal deadline for his wishes. If she didn't remember her dementia
he didn't want to be the one to tell her.
"Well," she said when he finished, "I'd say your genie managed to get the
better of you. But I can't remember the last time I felt this good. I--
remember," she choked. "You can't imagine what it was like, to know the
world was there but it wouldn't make sense. No matter what, I love you
for saving me from that."
Carl sagged. He hadn't realized how tense he was. He was afraid she would
blame him for their sex change. The surge of emotion felt strange; he
could feel it in his breasts and further down.
"Let's get up and look around. Maybe we can find out who we are,"
Marjorie said hurriedly. Carl didn't need convincing.
A small stack of cardboard boxes stood against the wall. Their bed was
just a mattress on a wire frame. No pictures hung on the walls. They must
be just moving in.
Carl couldn't resist sneaking a peak at his wife, now wearing just pajama
bottoms and leaving her hairy chest exposed. She made a handsome man, he
thought.
Embarrassed by his reaction, and unwilling to look at his new body, Carl
ran to the closet and found a sweatshirt and jeans. He couldn't face the
bathroom yet. While he got dressed, Marjorie checked out the rest of the
house.
"We're at 40 Cherry Lane. Small but nice place, and I'd have to say we
just moved here," she gestured at the boxes. "I also got our names from
the mail. We are Edward and Janet Bauer."
"My parents were going to name me Janet if I was a girl," Carl, or rather
Janet, announced. "Wait. Bauer. That was your maiden name."
"Not so much anymore," Edward responded with a nervous smile. "Are you
all right with that?"
He, no she, thought about it for a moment. "You know what? I am. I'm
still with you, and I'm your wife," she giggled. "So of course I'm Mrs.
Bauer now." She felt unexpectedly happy when she said it.
"It looks like I'm going to school and working nights, and you're..." He
paused and looked away sheepishly. "I, uh, I went through your-- purse to
see what I could find."
She laughed again, it felt so good. "I'll let it go. This time." She put
on a mock threatening face, the same one Marjorie used to make towards
Carl. She relaxed as soon as she saw Edward smile.
"Well, you're a secretary. I guess you're helping put me through school."
"A secretary. And that's a job I'm going to have for a long time. I
wished for a job I'd like, though, so it's probably better than it
sounds. How old are we?"
"Pretty young," he grinned while drinking her in with his eyes. "We're
nineteen. Got married early, I guess."
"So 21 years as a secretary," she grimaced slightly. "At least I'll be
with you." She walked hesitantly towards him, towards her husband, and
finally leaned in to hug him.
She could get used to it.
Edward knew better. He didn't say a word, she'd figure it out in her own
time.
She wasn't going to be a secretary for all those years. He would finish
school and provide for them, just as Carl once did. Janet would have a
far more rewarding job, one he knew she'd love. Being a mother, raising
their children, was a job for a lifetime. He'd had his turn at it, and
thanked a genie he never met that he could offer the same opportunity to
the love of his life.
Cheryl
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Games Genies Play Part 4 of 6
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Games Genies Play Part 1 of 6
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