Television is not real life...

 
After a brief sucking sensation, as if someone had run a vacuum cleaner all over me, there I was, standing in front of Travis who had the lamp in one hand. Both of the flashlights sat on the floor on either side of him, making a bubble of light around him.

“Whoa!” he yelped, running backward and crashing into a pile of boxes that came down on his head, knocking him sprawling on the concrete floor. The lamp fell from his hand, too, and clattered and rang metallically.

I screamed. I’m not sure why I did that, but a lot had happened in a few moments, and I thought Travis might have hurt himself which scared me badly.

Wisps of smoke lingered in the air between us. “Where did you come from?” he asked, staring at me, and not even trying to get up or untangle himself from the debris of the busted boxes.

I blinked. Something wasn’t right. “I think I was in the lamp?” I said, making it a question and pointing at the object. My voice didn’t sound the way I remembered and sort of ended on a squeak. My hand didn’t look right either.

“I’ll be damned,” said Travis. “It really is a magic lamp.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Or I bumped my noggin a lot harder than I thought.”

He tossed a few odds and ends off himself, still looking at me and grinning. “Jonny!” he shouted. “If this is some kind of trick, it’s a good ’un!”

His shout startled me. I was right there in front of him—he didn’t need to shout. “It’s no trick,” I said. “It’s me!” I smiled at him, feeling more than a little loony. Travis looked so good, I heard myself giggle which didn’t seem nearly as odd as I would have thought. Why shouldn’t I giggle? I was happy to be with Travis, and he hadn’t hurt himself. And…?

He laughed, standing up and retrieving the lamp, all in one movement. All six-foot-three of him towered over me, more than usual, I thought. I swear he might have grown another inch since his eighteenth birthday in September.

I looked up at him, my smile getting wider and wider, and he looked at me. But it seemed he wasn’t looking at my face. I glanced down to see what had attracted his eyes.

I’d never seen cleavage from that angle before, and at first, I thought I was looking at someone’s butt. At the same time, a mass of blond hair fell around my face, and I raised a hand to push it back—a small delicate hand with pink-painted nails, wearing several gaudy rings. Breasts? Hair? Nails? Rings?

I grabbed a double handful of cleavage and spangled gold bra then screamed a strangled scream right in Travis’s face. He ran backwards again, knocking down more boxes but he didn’t fall this time.

“Stop that!” he shouted at me, and I cut off the yelling like he had thrown a switch.

Gasping, I stared at him. I wanted to ask if he was all right but I was busy using my hands to touch my hair, an impossibly slim waist, and what felt like a huge soft pillow where my ass should be.

“What the hell?” Travis asked. “Why did you scream? I’m not going to hurt you. How did Jonny get you to go along with this gag? Are you a h-h-model he hired or something? I wouldn’t have thought he had the money.”

I hadn’t been answering his questions, but now he paused and looked at me as if he wanted me to say something. I made fish faces at him, but nothing came out.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he ordered.

So I told him. “Travis, it’s me! I was in the lamp, and you wished for a genie, and here I am!” I gestured at myself. “I’m y-y-your genie!” Why had I said that!?

“I wish…” he began.

I panicked. “No, no, no! No, Travis! Don’t make any more wishes until we figure this out!”

He grinned at me, but his eyes looked puzzled. “You’re my genie?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes, yes, m-m-master!?” Had I said that? “Augh! Travis, please don’t make any wishes until we can talk! P-please, m-m-master!”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what Jonny is paying you for this gig but it ain’t enough. You’re a heck of an actress, sugar, but I ain’t buying.” He turned away, peering into the darkness. “Jonny!” he called. “You can come out now!”

“I’m right here!” I shouted. “T-tr-t-master, I’m—I’m your J-jo-j-genie!” Crap!

“You said that,” he commented. “I’m looking for Jonny. He’s got to be here somewhere. It’s not that big of a room.” He still had the lamp in one hand, and he looked at it as he said, “I wish we had more light down here.”

Light from somewhere sprang into existence, illuminating the room and its squalor, wiping out all shadows. “Damnit!” I wailed. “Please, master, don’t make any more wishes! You’ve got to use one to change me back!”

“Change you back?” He squinted at me. “You’re glowing! You’re making the light in here! How are you doing that?”

I shrugged, which was an amazing distraction with about six pounds of boobs on my chest. “I don’t know!” I pointed at the antique in his hand. “It’s a magic lamp, you said so yourself. It sucked me in, and I was inside it, and you made a wish, and now, I’m your genie!” I sobbed. “Master. Please, master, change me back!”

Travis stood there, blinking, staring at me. “Can you turn the light down a bit? It’s hard to see you in the glare.”

I don’t know if I did anything but the light in the room dimmed by about half. “T-t-m-m…” I stammered. I couldn’t say Travis anymore. “M-master, you have only to ask.” I don’t know why I said that either!

He looked a bit owlish, examining first me, then the lamp, then coming back to me. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re Jonny?”

I nodded. “Yes, master. Exactly! Can you make a wish to change me back?”

He nodded, absently, deep in thought. “Mrs. Franks?” he asked.

“Uh, snake in her desk. It was a garden snake we caught.”

“Mr. Byrd?”

“Uh, dog poo in his lunch sack. Your dog, not mine.”

“Glinda Shook?”

“Green finger paint on her telephone. She got it in her hair, but it washed right out.”

Travis looked at me with awe and wonder. “I never told anyone about those pranks! Did Jonny tell?” We got away with all that stuff because we never bragged about them!

“I wouldn’t!” I said. “You know I wouldn’t, m-master.” Damnit! I squirmed a bit, realized what that probably looked like, and tried to stand still. And yet, I knew that whenever I looked at Travis, I smiled.

He glanced again at the lamp, then at me, then the lamp again. “It is you, Jonny,” he said, “isn’t it?”

Relief! “Yes, it’s me! It’s me. Oh, please use a wish to change me back!” I hesitated, realizing I was about to start pogoing. Wouldn’t that be a sight with my new chest puppies? And wouldn’t Travis enjoy watching?

I had to say something before I started jumping up and down and giving myself a concussion. “Master! O, kind and benevolent and best of masters!” I meant it but, jeez, did I have to say it?

I was begging him to save me, yes, but I sounded like some character in a fantasy. A male fantasy! I wanted to squirm and wriggle in embarrassment and because I knew Travis would enjoy watching me do that. Instead, I shook myself, shrugged and blinked repeatedly, squeezing my eyes tightly shut each time.

He grinned widely, enjoying my antics. “Okay, okay, this is not a wish, but I want you to tell me how many wishes do I get, and how many do I have left? And are there any gotchas?”

“As many wishes as you want, master,” I said. “As long as I am your genie and you have the lamp.” Oop! No! No! Don’t tell him that! I stood there trembling, wondering what I could say now. I tried to make up some terrible gotcha to tell him, but I knew, I just knew, I couldn’t lie to my master! Damnit! The only thing I could think of was obvious. “Wishes have consequences that sometimes you can’t predict?”

He stood there thinking. Why did he have to pick now to spend energy thinking?

I started to speak but he shushed me, and I couldn’t say a word. Remember I said Travis was not dumb, just lazy? Well, he was putting lots of effort into thinking up a good wish. I wished he wouldn’t, but I didn’t get any wishes.

He looked up and asked me another question. “Can a wish have a ‘but’ or an ‘if’ or an ‘and’ in it?”

Somehow I knew the answer immediately. I nodded but tried to look as if there were more to say. I didn’t actually know if there was. But he didn’t ask, just went back to thinking.

I fidgeted. I wanted to talk, but I knew Travis wanted me to be quiet while he was thinking so…. I couldn’t say a word! It should have been frustrating, but it really wasn’t. In fact, I felt an odd sense of satisfaction, as if I were helping him… helping him think, I guess.

I tried to think of something to say, but nothing at all occurred to me. Nothing. If I tried harder, my mind went blank. I’d never experienced anything like it.

I wanted him to make a wish to change me back. I needed him to do that!

Didn’t I?