Dave and Sara Hoffer are at a seaside resort to renew their wedding vows on their 40th anniversary. When they find a magic djinn, they wish to be young enough to PROPERLY consummate those vows.

Everyone's heard the expression, "Be careful what you wish for." You should also be careful HOW you wish for it.

Author's Note: The title for this series of stories reflects the view djinn have regarding their dealings with humans. They think of the granting of wishes as a game, with their goal being to twist wishes to their own ends at the expense of the person making the wish. As revealed in an earlier story, they call this game, "Wits and Wishes". Good wishes that have benefit only to those other than the wisher are exempt from tampering.

The Djinn Game V
By Ellie Dauber (c) 2007

"Look, there's another one!" Sara Hoffer hurried down to the water's edge and knelt down. She picked up another, small, white shell and put it into a cloth bag she was carrying.

Her husband, Dave, pushed back the baseball cap he wore over his thinning white hair. "How many more of those things are you after, Sara?"

"As many as I can find. When we get home, I want to put them in a glass vase the way Diane Keaton did in that movie with Jack Nicholson. Don't you remember?"

"I was too busy watching what Diane Keaton was doing with Jack Nicholson." He gave her his best leer.

Sara laughed. "You, sir, are a dirty old man."

"I prefer to be called a 'sexy senior citizen', thank you, and it helps to have somebody as pretty as you to inspire me."

"Mmm, you sound pretty inspired."

"It must be all this sun and fresh air -- and the company, of course." He gave her another comic leer, "or maybe the fact that we're getting married in a few hours."

Sara gave him back a shy smile. "Yes, we are, aren't we, and thank you. It's a wonderful anniversary present."

"It's been a wonderful 40 years. Why not celebrate by renewing our vows?" He chuckled. "Besides, I knew you wanted to do it. I heard you talking to Helen about it."

"You snoop! How long have you been listening in on my private conversations with our daughter?"

"Years and years; it was the only way I could ever keep ahead of you two." He took her hand and gently kissed it. "Forgive me?"

"I suppose I'll have to." She gave his hand a squeeze. "Could we collect a few more shells before we go back to the hotel?"

"Just a few. I want to lie down for a bit before we have to change for the wedding."

"Lie down; are you all right?" A look of concern crossed her face.

Dave smiled. "I'm fine... honest. I just thought that, as long as we're renewing our vows this evening, we could... re-consummate them after."

"That sounds lovely. I just thought..."

"I'm fine, just a little tired. It happens at my age, that's all." He grinned. "Hey, what's the difference between a honeymoon and a second honeymoon?"

"I-I give up, what?"

"On the second honeymoon, it's the husband who goes into the bathroom and cries."

"Like I said, you're a dirty old man, Sam Hoffer." Sara smiled and took his arm. "But you're my dirty old man."

He kissed her cheek. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. Let's go get some shells for my best girl." He looked out along the beach. "Say now, what's that?" He pointed at something about 60 yards away.

"I see it, too. It looks metallic. I wonder what it is."

"We'll know in a minute." Dave kissed her again and started towards the object. He reached it quickly. Too quickly; he had to stop to catch his breath before he knelt down. "Looks like some kind of old bottle," he told himself. He brushed the sand away and pulled it free.

It was brass, and about the size of a one-liter soda bottle. One side had raised symbols that might be letters in an alphabet he didn't recognize. The bottle had a green glass stopper that was connected to the bottle by a tiny chain.

"Got it," he yelled back to Sara. He lifted it over his head to show her before he started briskly walking back.

"Do you think there's anything in it?" Sara asked.

Dave took a moment to catch his breath again before he answered. "I don't think so." He gave the bottle a gentle shake. "I don't feel like anything's shifting around in there. I don't hear any rattling either." He glanced down at the bottle in his hand. "Still there's only one sure way of knowing."

He tried to pull out the stopper. "Won't move," he muttered.

"Try turning it," Sara suggested.

It worked. "Feels like it's moving on a groove," he told her. "Thanks for the idea." At that moment, the stopper came free. He let it drop and held the bottle upright. "No sense in anything spilling out."

Nothing did. Dave pulled his lighter from his pocket and opened it. He was about to use the light to look down into the bottle, when a small puff of dark green smoke shot from its mouth. "What the hell..." he exclaimed in surprise.

A column of the same dark green smoke escaped from the bottle and floated in the air a few feet away. It didn't seem to move in spite of the mild breeze that had been blowing all day.

Gradually, the column resolved itself into the shape of a slender, well-muscled man. He wore baggy pants that ended in a tight circle of cloth a few inches below each knee. His only other clothing was a sleeveless vest without a single button closed. The being's skin was the color of summer grass, while his clothing, curly hair and short beard were all darker shades of green.

Sara realized what they were seeing. "A genie," she said in delight.

"No mere genie, my Mistress," the being replied, bowing its head. "Know you that I am a Prince of the Green Djinn. As a reward for freeing me, even for a time, from that bottle, I shall grant you three wishes."

Dave studied the being. "What's your name, or do we just call you Green Djinn?"

"Do you truly wish to know my name, Master?"

"Yes -- no!" Dave added quickly. "I've read stories about how tricky you genies are. Let's just say that I asked as a courtesy."

The man bowed. "Well played, Master. My name is Umar ibn Haroun, and, as I said, I not a common genie; I am a djinn, a Green Djinn, a being of noble birth and of great mystic power."

"Is it your wish to be called a djinn and not a genie?" Dave asked wryly.

Umar laughed and clapped his hands. "Well played, indeed, Master. Let us call it another courtesy."

"But we do get those wishes you mentioned," Sara interrupted. "Don't we?"

Umar bowed low. "You do, my Mistress. By the decree of Suilemann ibn Daud, conqueror of all the djinn, I am to repay any son of Adam -- or daughter of Eve..." He bowed his head to Sara a second time. "...for granting me this temporary freedom from the bottle by the granting of three wishes. Once these are granted, my bottle and I return to the ocean, so that I may await another master."

"Doesn't sound like the best of lives," Dave said.

"It is a penance, Master, and I serve it willingly enough. Now, what is it that you wish?"

"My first wish is for youth," Dave said almost without thinking. "When Sara and I renew our vows as man and wife tonight, I wish for us both to be as young -- physically and mentally -- as the day when we first got married. I want it to last, so we can re-consummate those vows the way a wedding night should be consummated."

Umar grinned at the couple. "And this is your wish, the both of you?" They nodded, and Umar continued. "Know then that such a wish requires a great deal of magic, so that all who know you will accept the changes you ask for. It will take time to bring forth and more time for me to recover from my efforts."

"How much time?" Sara asked cautiously.

"I shall need to remain in the bottle, which is my home as well as my prison, until... until midday tomorrow." He looked at them closely. "Do you still desire this as your first wish?"

"We do," they said together.

Umar made an odd gesture towards Sara and Dave. "So be it. And since you asked for youth only for your wedding and your wedding night, you will return to your true forms sometime in the morning."

"You tricked us, you bastard." Dave said. He could feel an odd, tingling sensation running through his body.

Sara looked at her hands. "And we're the same as we were." She felt a tingling as well.

"By now, you are feeling the magic forces gathering in your bodies," Umar told them. "The change will not occur until you have returned to your rooms. It is best that it happen in a private place, not a public beach." He gave a wicked grin and changed to the column of green smoke. The smoke waivered for a moment, then flowed back into the bottle.

Dave grabbed the bottle and replaced the stopper. "Just to be sure," he explained. "Only till tomorrow; what good is that?"

"Let's go, Dave." Sara took her husband's arm. "We still have two wishes. We can make it permanent tomorrow." He nodded reluctantly, and they turned and hurried towards their hotel.

* * * * *

Dave held the door to their hotel room opened for Sara. He followed her in and let it close behind them. She stopped by the bed, wringing her hands. "Now what do we do, Dave?"

"We wait, I guess." He put the bag of shells and the bottle on the dresser and walked over to Sara. "Scared?"

"A little," she admitted. "I feel so strange. I don't know if it's the magic or just nerves." She gave a nervous giggle."

He took her hand. "Or maybe a little of both. Whatever happens, we'll be --" He stopped as a great wave of fatigue washed over him.

"Dave, I-I feel so tired." She sat down on the bed.

"It must be the magic." He walked over to the other side of the bed and kicked off his shoes. "Maybe if we lie down for a -- yawn! -- a bit."

"I thought we were going to wait until after the ceremony for -- yawn! -- that." Sara teased.

"I hate to say it, Sara, but -- yawn -- right now, I just want to lie down. He sat down on edge of the bed. "Damn magic had better work. It owes me one." He put his feet up and fell back against the pillow.

Sara lay down next to him. "Can we snuggle, at least?" She moved even closer.

"That much, we can always do." He rolled over onto his side and put his arm around her waist. There was just time for a quick kiss on the side of her neck before they both fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

"Dave... Dave..."

Someone was calling him from far away. 'Who?' he thought. 'The voice is familiar but..." He felt someone -- probably the same man -- shake him.

"Okay," he said, "I'm awake." He opened his eyes. A young man, 25 at most, was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him. "Who the hell are you?" He asked.

The man smiled. "Look closely, especially at my eyes. Who do you think I am?"

"I have no idea," Dave said in a voice that sounded high to him. Still he looked.

'Nice looking guy,' he thought, not sure why. 'Rugged chin, strong nose, damned good haircut, and those eyes, so dreamy... deep, so deep, they're the same blue as..." Dave gasped. "Sara," he said aloud, "is that you in there?"

The man gave a slight nod and moved back. "It is. How about you, dear, are you all right?"

"I... I guess. I feel better than I have in years, full of energy, and all those little aches and pains that snuck up on me are gone." He took a breath. "But everything feels -- I don't know -- off, somehow."

Sara -- could he still call her... call him that? -- moved back. "Sit up and take a look at yourself." She paused a beat. "But be ready for a... shock."

"Okay, I -- What the hell?" Dave looked down at a slender, young, and very female body, his body. Two pillowy breasts were barely contained in a confection of pink lace, what Dave somehow knew was a canisole. It hugged his new curves and narrow waist. He was still wearing jeans. No, it was a short, denim skirt that was stretched against wide hips. As he sat up, he could see his legs, trim and tanned. "What happened to me -- to us?"

"Your wish, I think. You said -- what was it -- 'I want Sara and me to be young when we renew our vows as man and wife.' It was something like that, remember?"

Dave had taught middle school English for over thirty years, and he realized his mistake at once. "I do. The way I said it made you the man --"

"And you the wife." The new man finished the thought. "And we'll be like this until some time around noon tomorrow."

"Oh, Lord, how do we explain this to Helen and the others?"

"I don't think we'll have to. Umar said he was going to fix things, so we'd be accepted."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. "Hey, you two decent?" It was Helen, their daughter.

"I always thought so." Sara stood and walked to the door. "We're dressed, too," She said.

A tall, buxom, young woman in a formal blue dress looked closely at Sara, as the door opened. "You're dressed, all right, Sam, but not for a wedding." She looked at Dave, who was just standing up. "And neither is Debbie, I see. What is with you guys?"

"Sam's suit is in our room, Helen, remember." A broad-shouldered man in a dark gray suit walked into the room. He was Nick, Helen's husband.

"I suppose that's a good excuse," Helen replied. "Why don't you two head over there, so he can put it on. I'll stay here and help my little sister get ready for her big day."

"Sounds like a plan. C'mon, Sam." Nick motioned at Sara, who, it seemed, was Sam now. The name suddenly seemed right to him.

Sam took Dave's -- Debbie's -- hand and kissed it gently. "See you later, Deb."

"Save it for the wedding," Nick said, grabbing Sam's arm. "So long, ladies." He led Sam to the door and closed it behind them.

Helen turned the lock and set the door guard. "Now he can't get back in." She looked at her wristwatch. "Okay, strip down. You take a quick shower, while I lay out your clothes and stuff."

* * * * *

Debbie turned off the water and pushed back the shower curtain. She was shorter than Dave was, and she had to step high to clear the side of the old, claw-foot tub. Without thinking, she took a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her wet hair.

"Now that was an experience," she told herself.

It had been. She'd showered quickly, as Helen had asked, but was more because she didn't want to dwell on how she had changed. She also didn't want to get started touching herself in those new, interesting places she had now.

Still, she was curious. Rather than wrap a second towel around herself, she walked over to the two-sink countertop. A large mirror took up most of the wall above it. "Let's see just what Debbie Hoffer looks like."

The mirror was fogged, so she used a washcloth to wipe it. Then she stepped back and posed. "Girl," she said, half bemused and half impressed by what she saw, "you are hot!"

Her reflection showed a slender, athletic body. "No tan line," she noticed and giggled, surprising herself at the sound. "Wonder how that happened." She turned and looked over her shoulder at a delightfully tear-shaped ass. In spite of herself, she ran her hand along it. "Mmm, firm, and it feels sooo good."

To distract herself from what she was feeling, Debbie leaned in to look at her face. "Dave's square jaw was gone, making her face rounder, heart-shaped, with full lips, a much smaller nose, and high cheekbones. His bushy eyebrows were replaced by her thin, well-trimmed arcs. It was a relief somehow to see that her eyes were the same hazel color as always, with the same tiny gold flecs.

A single, dark brown curl -- the same color Dave's had been at her age -- peeked out from the towel wrapped around her hair. She could see her ears, though. "Pierced," she said, noticing the two small pearl shapes on each lobe, "and more than once."

She straightened up and looked down at her body. Her breasts were as large as they'd first seemed. "Thirty-six D," she said, sounding a little surprised as the fact popped into her head. It made her feel embarrassed and proud at the same time. Her nipples were the size of her little finger above the first knuckle and centered in dark circles as big as a half-dollar. She touched one with her finger, raking it with her nail, and shivered at the sensation. She kept playing with it. Her other hand reached for her other breast and matched her actions. "Oh, yeah," she moaned softly. It felt good, and it was starting a similar, very pleasant feeling down between her legs.

"I wonder how it'd feel if Sam was -- what the hell am I doing?" She pulled her hands away just in time for Helen to knock on the bathroom door. "Hey, in there, are you out of the shower yet?"

Helen walked in before Debbie could answer. "About time. You'd best hurry, Sis. We only have the garden reserved for an hour." She picked up the pile of the clothes Debbie had been wearing. "I'll take care of these."

"But what'll I wear?"

"Hello... these are everyday clothes. Your bridal outfit's laid out for you on the bed, undies and all. Only... wait a second." She hurried out of the bathroom, only to return almost at once with a small, white porcelain jar. "Here," she said, handing the jar to Debbie, "call this an early wedding present."

"What is it?"

"It's that powder you liked so much when we went shopping last week, the stuff you said was too expensive for a poor, first year teacher like yourself." She smiled. "It is too expensive, but I figured a bride should be pampered."

'First year,' Debbie thought. 'Same ages as the first time, just like I wished.' She held the jar in one hand and lifted the lid. A massive pink puff was attached to the back of it, and she brought it to her nose. "Ohh, so nice." It was the same flowery scent that Dave had always enjoyed when Sara wore it.

Now it was her turn.

* * * * *

"Do you, Samuel Myron Ross, take this woman..." Rev. Tomlinson's voice was a bit reedy with age. He'd married Dave and Sara all those years ago, and they'd picked this hotel for renewing their vows because the now-retired minister lived nearby and was willing to officiate if he didn't have to travel too far.

"I do," Sam answered, when the older man had finished. The new male grinned, feeling he'd accomplished something, and looked at Debbie.

She felt a little shy from the way Sam was looking at her. She lowered her head as the reverend began again. "And do you, Deborah Elizabeth Hoffer, take this man. Debbie sighed, barely listening as Tomlinson finally came to, "...lawful wedded wife."

"Deb," Sam whispered as she just stood there, "you're supposed to say, 'I do', now."

Her cheeks flushed. "Oh... oh, my... yes, yes, of course, I do."

"Then, by the powers vested in me, I very happily pronounce you husband and wife." The reverend paused a beat. "Sam, you may now kiss your bride."

Sam gently lifted the lacy veil from in front of her face. He put his hands on her cheeks and lifted her head towards his own. "My... bride." Their lips met.

Debbie's arms rose up and around Sam's neck. She pressed her body against his, feeling her breasts pushed against his broad chest. A warmth flowed through her. She felt her nipples tighten and -- much scarier -- felt an emptiness between her legs.

"Me, a bride." She giggled at the thought, breaking the kiss. Then she moved her head back in and kissed her new husband again.

* * * * *

Sam slid the card that unlocked the hotel door. He held it open as Debbie walked past him and into the room. "Well, dinner was certainly fun," he said wryly as the door closed behind him.

"Umar said he was going to fix it so nobody would notice that we got young again. I'd say he outdid himself." Debbie put her white purse and the small bridal bouquet on the dresser.

"He sure did. Helen and Nick think we're their age -- heck, they think you're her kid sister."

"I know. She was whispering in my ear about some boy I evidently had a crush on in college and that you're such a better..." Her eyes went wide. "Tom... His name was Tom Werner. I remember dating him. We..." She suddenly blushed.

"What's the matter?"

"I... Debbie slept with him."

Sam laughed. "I guess I didn't marry a blushing vir -- no, we-we've slept together, too." He shook his head. "This is amazing."

Debbie felt the tingling warmth she'd felt before. "I-I remember that, too." She smiled at Sam. "You were good."

"I was inspired by my partner." He laughed. "Listen to us. We sound like we really did those things we're both remembering."

"It's kind of weird, though. I didn't know I was a teacher again until Helen told me, and I remember the first boy I ever... dated."

"Umar said he was going to fix things. I guess that includes us."

"Oh, I get it. I wished for youth so we could..." Her face reddened. "...consummate the wedding, so we remember stuff to make us more comfortable doing it."

"Do you want to consummate, I mean, while we're like this?"

"I... I guess."

"That was certainly an enthusiastic response." He took off his jacket and draped it over a chair. "Let's just get ready for bed and see what happens." He turned away from her and stepped out of his shoes. Then he began to loosen his tie.

Debbie was wearing a knee-length white dress with thin straps. "Okay." She reached behind and slid the zipper partway down her back. Then, without a thought, she slipped first one strap, then the other, off her shoulders.

The dress slid down to puddle at her feet. Debbie gasped as she felt the cool air against her skin.

"Did you say some -- oh, wow!" Sam turned around to look at her. His tie was off, his shirt unbuttoned.

Debbie stood looking at her husband, not sure of his reaction. She wore a lacy, white teddy that hugged her curves. It was cut low, with two thin, spaghetti straps over her shoulders, lifting and accentuating her ample breasts, their nipples peeking out from the silk and lace trim.

The crotch piece was thin, barely wide enough to cover her, with the sides cut high, so that her legs seemed to go on forever. Matching garters, trimmed with small, ivory roses, stretched out from under the teddy, holding up thigh-high, white patterned stockings. Her pumps were white, with a four inch heel that added extra feminine curve to her legs.

Debbie had never unpinned the narrow headband that held her veil. She'd simply pushed the veil back. Now, of its own will, the veil slipped back over her face.

"My Lord, Deb," Sam said in amazement -- and lust. He felt himself grow rock hard. "You look so --"

She misunderstood. "Don't you dare laugh. Helen picked this stuff, and she kept pushing me into wearing it."

"Laughing's the last thing on my mind." He crossed the room to where she was standing and took her in his arms. Before she could react, he moved in and kissed her.

Debbie felt her breasts pushed flat against his chest. Her nipples tightened to hard points, as a burst of pleasure shot down from them direct to her groin. She moaned at the sensation, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth and began to play with her own tongue. She could feel his hardness, and, from instinct she'd never known, she rubbed her groin against it.

His hands reached down and began to knead her firm, round butt. She moaned again -- or tried to. Her own hands were pulling at his shirt, trying to get it, to get all his clothes off of his body.

When they finally broke the kiss, they looked at each other and smiled. "I guess we are going to consummate tonight after all."

Debbie stared at his chest, blushing and unable to face him at this moment. "I guess we are," she answered shyly.

"One thing, though." Sam took a step back and loosened his belt. He lowered the zipper and let his pants begin their slide to the floor. "Sara or Sam... Dave or Debbie, I have always loved you and I always will."

Debbie's eyes trailed down past Sam's hairy chest and six-pack abs. She could see the bulge in his bright red shorts. She could even see... it, the top of a pink helmet peeking through the hole between two snaps in those shorts. "Me, too." She answered.

"Then, let's do something about it." Sam picked her up as if she was weightless. Debbie giggled. She threw her arms up around his neck and let her head rest against his chest.

Her body tingled as if she were swimming in the same pink champagne they'd served her at dinner. There was an emptiness in the warmth wetness she felt between her legs. An emptiness that was growing into a desperate need. "Damned straight," she replied, as he hurried with her to the bed.

* * * * *

Hey, big guy, you want a bite?"

Sara Hoffer opened her eyes to see a young woman with dark brown hair propped up next to her on one elbow. The woman was naked, Sara realized, and holding a shiny, red apple in her hand. But from the lascivious grin on her face, Sara could see that she was just as much offering those glorious breasts of hers, as she was that apple.

Sara smiled back and felt herself stiffen. Stiffen? She -- he suddenly remembered. Sara was gone for now. He was Sam Ross, and the brunette was Dave, now Debbie, his new wife.

"What's with the apple?" Sam asked.

"Helen brought it with her yesterday." Debbie answered. "It's from some French poem she read in college. A couple keeps apples by their bed. They each take a bite when they wake up, so when they kiss, there's no morning breath."

"So this is just your way of asking me to kiss you." Sam grinned back at her.

"If-if you want to." Her face flushed. She took a bite and offered it to him again. "For a start." She was feeling the same feminine need as she had the night before, and -- Lord help her -- she wanted, more than anything else in the world, to satisfy that need with Sam.

He smiled and took the fruit from her. "Well, I always did like apples." He took a bite from a spot next to where she had bitten and chewed it quickly.

Then he accepted her other invitation. He leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth.

"Sam, you've still got apple in your mouth," Debbie protested. "I can feel it."

"Don't worry," he told her. "I'll clean it off." Instead of going back to sucking, he swirled his tongue across the nipple. He could taste the sweet mix of perspiration and apple juice.

"Two can play at that game." Debbie grabbed the apple from where it lay on the bed. She took a bite and shifted her body. She began kissing her way down his chest, leaving a trail of juice and apple fragments behind.

Where's that damned apple?" Sam grabbed for her hand, which still held the fruit.

Debbie giggled. "Can't have." She moved away, trying to put it on the nightstand, where he couldn't reach it.

"Oh, yeah!" Sam's head was near her groin. He grabbed for her and pulled her to him. His tongue flicked at the patch of curls that surrounded her innermost place.

Debbie squealed as his tongue tickled her labia, then slid in between them. "Y-yeah!" Her hand found his engorged member. She raised it to her lips and kissed the tip. Her lips parted as she let it into her mouth.

There was no talk after that.

She worked her tongue up and down his shaft, while his tongue investigated her depths. His tongue found her clitoris and alternately caressed it and flicked it back and forth. He began to hum, making his lips and tongue vibrate against her flesh, and she copied him.

They both felt the pleasure build within them, coursing out to every part of their bodies. Debbie suddenly trembled, and Sam tasted a tart sweetness that had nothing to do with apples.

A moment later, a salty liquid erupted from him, muffling her orgasmic scream. She began to suck almost by instinct, hollowing her cheeks. She managed to swallow most of his essence, though a small amount trickled down her cheek and onto Sam.

Debbie sighed as Sam's tongue slid out of her. She smiled weakly and collapsed down onto him, winding up with her head resting on his thigh.

"That was wonderful," Sam said, once he'd caught his breath. "C'mere." He raised his arms, inviting her to come to him.

Debbie moved along the bed until her head was even with his. He pulled her close and kissed her, ignoring the slightly salty taste. "That was absolutely incredible," he told her. His left arm was around her waist, holding her near him, while he reached out with his right to gently brush her hair with his hand.

"It certainly was." Debbie's voice was a satisfied purr. "I wish we could feel like that all the time."

Sam sighed. "So do I, Deb, baby; so do I."

"Granted," a voice called out gleefully. "That is your second wish, my mistress and master. You shall be Samuel and Deborah Ross for the remainder of your days."

They turned just as Umar finished. "Unless..." the djinn concluded.

"You lousy bastard of a genie," Sam cursed. "You snuck up on us."

"Yeah," Debbie added. "You know that wasn't a wish."

"How could I know anything of the sort, mistress. Did you not use that very word, and did not my master agree that he wished the same thing?" They both sadly agreed. "And besides, I said 'unless.' You can always use your third wish to return to being David and Sara Hoffer."

"But then we'd have nothing to show for the three wishes," Debbie objected, "except for the experience of wasting three wishes."

Sam took her hand. "That's better than nothing at all. It'd be nice to be rich and all, but the only thing I ever wanted in this life was to spend as many years of it as I could with you, Deb. That's what'd make me happy."

"Aww." Deb leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I feel just the same way." She stroked Sam's cheek. "Okay, Umar, my third wish is that we keep our youth but return to our original sexes."

Umar laughed. "No, my former mistress; that was your fourth wish. Your third wish -- the both of you -- was that you be together for a long and happy life. And so you shall... as you now are." The bottle appeared in his hand. He floated up into the air, passed through the ceiling and disappeared.

A flood of memories washed over them. They knew who they had been, but those memories seemed pale before these newer ones. At the same time, whatever objections they still had to their new selves disappeared. They were happy with who they were.

"I guess we're gonna be Sam and Deb forever," Sam said shrugging his shoulders.

Debbie nodded. "Right now, we're Sam and Debbie in bed and on our honeymoon." She saw that he was erect again and felt a warm emptiness between her legs. "And I feel real happy about that." She smiled and climbed on top of him.

As the bottle tossed in the ocean surf, Umar used his magic to get a last view of his most recent masters. "It was a most interesting game of Wits and Wishes," he told himself. "And the way those two are going at it, I may not be the only winner."