Leo Morgenstern finds a magic lamp while he's on the beach trolling for girls. But it's an EMPTY magic lamp, and that's where his troubles begin.

Djinn Game II
By Ellie Dauber
(c) 2002

Leo Morgenstern sat on a finger of rock at the edge of Chapman's Cove, watching the crowd of people on the beach below. The cove was just a ten-minute drive from his college campus and very popular with the students, especially on a warm September afternoon like today when swimming was still possible.

Leo was 6 foot 4 of solid muscle, a first string lineman on the college team, even though he was only a junior. He was taking advantage of the "pass" weekend just before homecoming to scout the female talent. He still hadn't decided which girl was going to be lucky enough to be his date next weekend. He knew, though, that most of the girls at the school would jump at the chance. And if his choice had a boyfriend who objected -- he slammed his left fist into the palm of his right hand -- well, that was a problem that was easily taken care of.

He thought he saw a likely prospect, a tall blonde with a cute figure and a rack that had to be at least a 38-D. He decided to move in for a closer look and started to climb down.

As he climbed off the rock, his left foot found something hard in the sand. It felt smooth and cool, metallic, maybe. He gave in to his curiosity and dug it out.

"It can't be," he whispered in amazement. It was some kind of a brass lamp that looked like something from the Arabian Nights. "Naw," he shook his head. "Still, you never know."

He picked up the lamp and looked around. No one seemed to be watching. Just the same, he picked up the lamp and walked around to the far side of the rock. It was a narrow, _empty_ bit of beach. Leo waited a minute or two in case anyone had followed him. Satisfied that no one had, he began to rub the lamp.

Nothing happened for a moment. Leo was about to stop when the lamp began to hum softly. He rubbed faster, and the hum grew louder. The lamp began to glow. "Hot damn," Leo said, trying hard not to shout. "Babes, lots of money, and more babes, that's my three wishes!"

He rubbed harder. The glow grew brighter. To Leo's dismay, it spread to his hands, up his arms. In moments, his whole body was glowing. He dropped the lamp and tried to run, but his legs wouldn't move. He couldn't feel them. He looked down. He had no legs. Below mid-thigh, there was nothing but a column of bluish smoke.

The base of the column of smoke skittered along the ground until it found the lamp. It began to flow into the opening at the front of the lamp. Leo felt himself shrinking, falling downward. He screamed as he was sucked into the lamp.

There was a moment of absolute darkness before he found himself whole, standing in a room with rounded metal walls. Torches high on the wall lit the room, which was furnished with masses of pillows instead of chairs. "I'm inside the damned lamp," he said. "What the hell happened?"

Shapes -- letters? -- of flame appeared in the air. They were some weird curved alphabet that he guessed was Arabic, but they shifted suddenly into English.

"Know, mortal, that this is the lamp of Abu Sha'arif, he who was cursed by Suliman the King, to serve as its djinn until released. Many since then have served and been released. Because the lamp was empty when you found it, you have become the new djinn of the lamp, doomed to serve until thy Master releases thee to thy Fate."

The letters floated in the air for a while before they faded without a trace. Leo frantically searched the room. There was no sign of an exit of any sort. "Let me out of here," he yelled banging his fists against a wall.

Suddenly, he felt the same odd sensation he had when he began to glow. He felt himself being pulled towards the wall. There was another moment of absolute darkness, and he was standing on the same stretch of beach. It looked like it was the same afternoon.

Someone was standing a few feet away holding the lamp. Leo recognized him, Danny McKean, the football team's assistant manager and its waterboy. "What...what's going on?" Danny asked in amazement.

Leo felt a compulsion to speak. "I am the djinn of the Lamp, Master. Here to grant thy every wish from now until this time tomorrow. Yada-yada-yada."

"This is a joke, right?"

Leo got control, some control anyway of his voice. "What was it you didn't understand, you little wimp? I got stuck in this lamp, and I gotta grant your wishes for 24 hours. Except that your first wish is gonna be to free me."

"I don't know," Danny said. "Can you really grant _any_ wish?"

"Look, you..." Leo tried to continue but he lost control of his voice again. "I cannot create life, Master, nor end it, and I cannot create love, for love is even stronger than my magics." He coughed and regained control. "You little bastard. I ought to beat the shit out of you." He made a fist the size of a small ham.

"But you can't," Danny said with a smile. "My first wish is that you have no wish to ever do me any harm, not now, not ever."

Leo's hand shook as his anger vanished. "Yes, Master." He smiled -- damn it! -- and bowed his head."

Danny pursed his chin. "You know, it's hard to look at you and think of a djinn. I think some changes are in order."

"Changes, Master?" Damn, why did he keep calling Danny "Master"?

"Changes," Danny said with a wide grin. "I wish for you to transform into a Middle Eastern babe. You should be...oh, about 5 foot 5 with a figure that won't quit, long curly auburn hair down to the waist, dusky skin, and a face like Janet Jackson. You've got a sexy, alto voice, and you're wearing a tiny silk halter, harem pants, and sandals. Oh, yeah, and you smell of cinnamon and cloves." He paused a moment. "That's my wish, djinn, make it so."

"Now wait a minute...Master," Leo said, but he felt his body tingling all over. Danny seemed to be growing taller. No, he was shrinking. He felt a tug on his scalp as his hair grew longer and longer. He felt the muscles of his face shifting. "No, please...." He stopped, terrified to hear his voice cracking, moving up into the feminine range.

He felt a pressure on his chest and looked down. Two bumps pushed out the front of his T-shirt; they grew bigger and bigger until they seemed to be same 38-D as that girl he'd been looking at before. His arms grew slender as his body hair faded away and his tanned skin darkened to a Mediterranean olive tone. His jeans felt loose at the waist but very tight at the hips, as his figure shifted. He felt an incredible hard-on, but the feeling faded to a numbness, then -- Lord help him -- to a feeling of emptiness between his legs. As far as he could tell, he was a girl.

It became a lot easier to tell.

The collar of his shirt grew bigger, even as the sleeves vanished until there was no more that a narrow strip of cloth. At the same time, the bottom of the shirt slid upwards, not stopping until it was just below Leo's breasts. The shirt changed, and material became a piece of dark blue silk. At the same time, the denim of his jeans darkened and grew softer. The legs became a semi-transparent embroidered mesh, while the top became a solid panty that hugged his broad hips and heart-shaped butt. His Nikes shrank down into a pair of soft sandals, blue with blue sequins, even as they curled up at the toe. Leo gasped and smelled the spices Danny had mentioned.

"Very nice," Danny said with a leer. "Barbara Eden eat your heart out." He thought for a moment. "For my next wish, let's see. The...ah...State Lottery is at $40 million. I wish to be holding the only winning ticket in tonight's drawing."

"Done, Master," Leo heard himself say. "The ticket is in your wallet." Then he managed to add, "and may you never get a minute's good from it."

"That's not a very mice attitude, djinn. I think -- yes -- my next wish is that you always act in a sweet, submissive manner towards me."

"Aw, shit," Leo said, feeling a sort of tingle in his head. Then he bowed low and smiled. "As you wish, my Master."

"For my next wish...let me ask you a question, djinn. Can you change things so that I've got a twenty point increase in intelligence, and I've always been a straight A student?"

"If it would please you, Master. The records would change, and all would have that memory. You would have the knowledge, as well."

"Then do it." Danny felt an odd sort of "itch" inside his head. Leo thought back to the differential calculus class that he'd almost flunked last spring. Almost flunked? He'd aced that course. In fact, Dr. Dixon had wanted him to submit that proof he'd done as an extra credit assignment for publication in the Math Society Journal. "Well, I'll be..." he said with a broad smile.

Leo bowed low, giving Danny a fine view of his breasts, straining against the silken halter. "My Master is pleased?"

"More than pleased."

"Then, I most humbly beg you, Master, to free me from the lamp." He looked up at him, shyly smiling, a tear, a real tear in his eye.

"I will, djinn...later. I have a bit more to wish for, though."

"Your slightest wish is mine to obey." Leo couldn't help himself. He took Danny's hand in his, lifted it to his lovely lips and gently kissed it. 'Well,' Leo thought, 'it'll be worth it to be myself again.'

"Okay then," Danny said. "I want to be six foot tall and solidly built and skilled enough that I can be on the football team. In fact, that's how I wish everyone to remember, that I've always been a lineman, not first string, necessarily, but on the team, instead of just the assistant manager and damned waterboy."

Danny grew several inches taller. His body filled out, as his shirt, now a team shirt with his number on it, grew tight against his muscular chest. "This is great," he yelled and went through a quick set of weight lifter poses.

"I am glad that you are pleased, my Master. Now am I to be set free?"

"One more thing. I want the sexual expertise of an experienced lover, the stamina to go all night, and a prick that's nine inches long when I'm not excited and two inches longer when I am."

Leo actually felt himself blush. "As my Master wishes, so shall it be."

Danny felt the "itch" in his head again. Images, erotic techniques, flashed before his eyes. His pants grew tight in the crotch, then the fabric shifted, giving him the room he now needed. "Thank you, djinn. Now to see about setting you free of that lamp as a normal human being."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Master." When he was himself, Leo had all sorts of ideas about what he wanted to do to this squirt. Yet, even as he thought of them, his mind rejected them, unwilling due to the earlier wish, to do Danny any sort of harm.

"First, let me tell you about a girl I know. Listen closely, stand still, and don't interrupt." Leo nodded. "Her name is Tamara Faoud. She's an orphan, paying her way through school here with part of her inheritance from her parents' importing firm. She's a sophomore history major and rather bright with a happy, playful personality. We met about a year ago, and she's utterly devoted to me emotionally and physically, sort of a sex slave, you might say."

Leo shuddered, realizing what was coming, but unable to stop him.

Danny continued. "She's here at the beach today, wearing a cotton blouse and skirt over a very skimpy bikini. She's very beautiful. She looks just like you, djinn. In fact, she is you. My final wish is that you be free of the lamp and a normal human being, the girl I just described."

"No, Master, please, I beg you."

"Make it so...Tamara."

Leo nodded. He felt a tingle run through his body. His clothes shifted. The harem pants slid up his leg, merging into a tube that became a short denim skirt. The halter grew longer, becoming a tank top with small heart-shaped buttons. He felt something move under the skirt, as the thong of his bikini pant slid up between his cheeks.

The lamp faded from Danny's hand.

As it did, other things faded as well. Danny and Leo blinked their eyes and stared at each other as memories were rewritten. Since Danny hadn't included it in his wish, neither of them had any memory of the lamp or the wishes.

Danny McKean looked at his girlfriend, Tamara, and smiled. "Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

She smiled back and shyly took his hand. "Yes, but I love to hear you say it. Are we going to swim? I've got a brand new bikini I want to show you." She slowly began to unbutton her blouse.

"I can't wait to see you in it," Danny said as he began to unbutton his own shirt.

Tamara blushed. "And I can't wait until you see me _out_ of it...Master."

The End

Djinn Game III
By Ellie Dauber © 2003

Beachcombing after a storm, Fred Scofield finds a magical, jade and silver egg, the home of a beautiful, female djinn. Trying to impress — and seduce — her, Fred brags of his sexual prowess. The djinn challenges him to prove his claims, and, when he agrees to do so, Fred begins a journey through time, space, and his own past in a manner he could never have imagined. And plays a game of “Wits and Wishes” just as strange in its outcome.

This story was originally posted as a chapter of the antology-story,“Octet”, on FictionMania.

Djinn Game III
By Ellie Dauber © 2003

The beach was covered with litter from the storm. Fred Scofield muttered to himself as he walked along it. He'd found a long thin piece of driftwood that he was using for a walking stick, and every so often, he vented by taking a swing at something half-buried in the sand.

"Bad enough, Spring has to cancel at the last minute," he said. "I drive up, figuring I could find myself a playmate up here for the weekend, and that damn storm hits ten minutes after I get here."

Spring Harper was the woman Fred was currently seeing. She compensated for her mundane life as a stock analyst during the day by having a rather imaginative sex life in her off-hours. Unfortunately, her boss had dumped a two-foot pile of paper on her desk at 3 PM on Friday and told her to have a full report on it for a meeting at 10 AM Monday morning.

Fred poked at a small, gray crab that hurriedly scuttled away. "If I wanted to sit alone eating cold pizza and listening to the rain, I could have stayed in the city." He was about to chase after the crab - - just to have something to do, when he saw a bit of shiny metal lying there in the sand.

It was some kind of ornament, a green stone -- jade, perhaps -- and the size and shape of an egg, inside an ornate silver filigree. It looked very expensive. "Maybe this weekend won't be a total loss after all." There were patches of mud and sand stuck to the egg. Fred pulled out his shirttail and began to clean it.

The egg began to hum softly. A glow spread through it, pulsing to match the hum. "What the hell?" Fred dropped the egg in surprise. He stared at it as it lay in the sand, the hum getting louder.

Suddenly, a thin column of dark gray smoke began to rise from the egg. It formed into a vaguely human shape and began to grow lighter in color. At first, the smoke was turning blue, but it stopped and, instead, became a light shade of pink. Then, miraculously, the smoke compacted into a human figure.

A very female figure.

Her hair was a sea of auburn, flowing in waves down to her waist. Her skin was the color of dark honey; her eyes, the black of a moonless night. Her face was pleasing, heart-shaped; her lips were full, pouting, and begging to be kissed. The rest of her was a mass of feminine curves. Her breasts were two great pillows that strained against a pale green halter. Her waist was narrow enough that a man might put his arms around it. His eyes were drawn at last to the curvature of her thighs, gateways to infinite pleasures hidden yet revealed in matching translucent harem pants and a small satin panty.

She stared at the man for a moment, then, in a voice like the tinkling of bells, she said, "I am... Jamala, oh, my master. For the freeing of this humble slave, you are granted three wishes."

Forget the wishes. Fred wanted her. He wanted to see that hair spread out on a bed as he drove into her. He wanted to feel those lips around his maleness. He wanted to suckle at those breasts until he tasted their honeyed milk. He wanted... "I want to make love to you."

"Is that your first wish, Master?" Damn, she made it seem so mechanical.

"Ye... No! I want you to be with me because you want to, not because I ordered you to."

Jamala put a hand on her chin and seemed to be studying him. 'Well,' he thought. 'I'm not a bad looking guy, or so Spring tells me. I can still fit into the speedos I wore on the Rutgers swim team ten years ago. I can fill them out pretty good, too, if I do say so myself.'

She seemed to be reading his mind. Her eyes lingered at his crouch, and she smiled. Her tongue poked out and slid against her upper lip. "You are most handsome, Master, and mightily endowed, but it is not looks -- or size -- that make the lover; it is skill. I am of the Green Djinn and over 2700 years old. I have been with some of the greatest lovers known to your history. How can I know that you are to be counted among them?"

"I... I don't know." He grinned. "Why don't you just take a chance? I don't think you'll be disappointed."

Jamala had seemed to be no more that 5 foot 6, half a head shorted than him. In an instant, she loomed 50 foot tall or more. Lightening seemed to crackle in the air around her. "No, my Master. You do not want to take the chance, for you would not enjoy my being disappointed." Her voice boomed down at him.

"I... I guess not. What do we do, them?"

She was suddenly normal sized again, smiling happily at him. "There is a way, Master. If you wish, I could cast you back through the years to relive your every sexual encounter. Our minds would be linked, so that I might experience your skills. In this way, I could know." She leered at him. "And know you also, Master, such an experience can be very arousing." She said that last word almost as a purr.

"All right. Do it." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "but only encounters with real women: no fantasizing, no jacking off with a Playboy when I was eleven, and nothing Oedipal."

"Of course, my Master. You have only to make the wish."

"I wish it," he said firmly. He began to feel lightheaded. Everything went black, and he felt himself falling.

***

He landed with a thump.

It was his room in the house on Spruce Street in Middleburg, the one they'd lived in till he was fifteen. Sure enough, there was a 1987 Playboy calendar on the wall, right by the Farrah poster. There were books on the desk across from his bed, ninth grade English Literature, the top one said.

"She did it," he whispered, unsure what would happen next. Then he... giggled?

The door opened, and his 14-year old self walked in. Freddy, his younger self, was carrying a bottle of his parents' whiskey and two glasses. He was in his undershorts and socks. "Is this okay?"

"'S fine," Fred said. His voice was high and soft, a girl's voice. "I really shouldn't be doing this." Fred looked down at his body. He saw a pair of breasts -- 32-B, maybe -- in a white cotton bra. Below that were a narrow waist and a pair of rounded hips in a matching white panty. There was no bulge at the groin.

'Tammy Griggs,' he thought. 'I'm Tammy Griggs, and this is the day we both lost our virginity.' He panicked. 'Genie... Jamala... what's going on?'

'I am most certainly not a mere genie,' said a voice in his mind. 'I am of the Green Djinn and worthy of respect. Your wish was that I know if you are worthy to be my bed partner. How can I learn this by seeing how you felt during the act of sex? No, my Master, I can only learn by discovering how you made your bedmates feel, and for me to learn this, you must experience it with them.' Fred thought that he heard a chuckle, then there was only a silence within his mind.

All thought stopped when Fred felt the burn of alcohol in his throat. The whiskey Freddy had poured settled in his stomach making a nice warm feeling. He felt Freddy's arm around his waist, pulling him close.

Their noses got in the way, and they fumbled with the kiss for a moment before Fred/Tammy felt Freddy's lips against his own. The kiss was gentle... sweet. He felt his arms rising up to encircle Freddy's neck. His breasts were warm, tingly. His crotch felt... warm, warm and... empty.

Freddy's fingers fumbled with his bra. 'Well, I get the hang of it eventually.' He felt his... Tammy's arms move behind him and unhook it. He smiled and let it fall from his body.

Freddy kissed him again, leaning forward. His/Tammy's body was pushed back onto the bed. He giggled as he fell and tried to move to a sexy position. Freddy was suddenly on the bed with him, kissing him on the mouth, on the breasts. He felt his... Tammy's body squirming with excitement.

Freddy reached down at started to tug at his panties. Fred felt Tammy's fear that they might rip. "Wait a minute," he/she said impatiently. His/her body raised itself slightly off the bed. Freddy pulled the panty down. Tossing it away with a triumphant smile on his face.

Freddy was on top of him/her. Something moved against Fred/Tammy's upper thigh. "Better let me," he/she said. He/she reached down to guide his penis. It seemed so strange to Fred to be touching someone else's penis, even though he knew that it was really the younger version of his own.

It slid in easily. His/her vagina was wet and ready. "Oh," he/she said at the odd feeling of being penetrated. For Tammy, it was something she'd expected, actually looked forward to -- if it was the right boy. Fred had never known, never expected to know anything like it. 'Did it have to feel so good?' he thought nervously.

It did, and the feeling got better and better. Fred felt transported. His younger body seemed to be pumping megavolts of sexual energy into Tammy's body. It was Fred as well as Tammy that shouted "Yes, yes!" before the words dissolved into a high pitched scream.

The scene shifted. He was Tammy again, but it was about two weeks later. They had made love the second time at her house. Her parents came back just as he/she climaxed. Freddy heard them and tried to stop, but he/she wouldn't let him pull out. Freddy almost killed his older self by stuffing a pillow in his/her face to muffle the noise.

The orgasm that second time had felt even better than the first.

He was never Tammy again. Her parents had found them upstairs. They were fully dressed but still upstairs. Freddy was blamed, and Tammy wasn't allowed to see him again.

Then Fred was the succession of the girls he'd dated through the rest of high school. By his senior year, Freddy had earned a reputation as a cocksman among a certain segment of the females in the class. Fred found himself being fucked the back seat of cars, in various bedrooms and basement family rooms. He was amazed at the pride Myra Hertzog felt in being taken on the floor of her father's legal office, when they snuck in there one Saturday. She'd always pretended that she hadn't meant it to happen.

Fred barely noticed that the revulsion he'd felt at first was smaller each time. He tried to change things, to force the body of the girl to push his younger self away. He couldn't. After a few times, he was getting so caught up in the pleasure that he just stopped trying.

It got even better during Freddy's college years. The girls had been more adventurous and more skilled. Fred was fucked in quiet corners of the library, in dorm rooms, and even classrooms. He found him/herself on his/her back in his frat house, and in the "guest" beds at a couple of sororities.

Fred found him/herself on his/her knees giving head. Yes, he'd learned to enjoy that, too, at college. Fred felt the cramping of his/her period just as Freddy came in the mouth of one steady girlfriend. He didn't care; Freddy had played with his/her clit, even ignoring the blood, until he/she had to do something.

He felt the increased pleasure of threesomes. Whether it was a spare boy or a spare girl didn't matter as long as the orgasms came. They were something Fred was looking forward to now, and Freddy never seemed to disappoint.

On into his twenties and the sleek women he'd known... and loved. Fred's mind lingered over each encounter. He was enjoying it now, enjoying the kissing on his mouth, his breasts, his... his pussy. Foreplay was wonderfully different for each woman he became. He thrilled as his body warmed, as the nerves "pinged" with arousal. It was incredible to feel his nipples grow hard, his pussy grow warm, and wet, and empty.

Then... then Freddy, wonderful Freddy, would fill it. He would pump and pump. He would reach down and play with Fred's clit. Sometimes he used a finger or his limber tongue. Whatever he did, the orgasms would build and build until the moment of ultimate, pleasurable release.

It was that way when he shared the experience with Meg, and Sally, and Tamara (his bit of brown sugar), and... He lost track of how many "ands" there were.

Until he was Spring Harper. There was that last time, was it only four days ago, when Freddy had walked into her office just before five. They had a date for dinner, but Freddy hadn't wanted to wait.

Freddy took Fred/Spring in his arms and kissed her. Freddy's tongue forced its way between his/her teeth and played with his/her own. Fred felt his body warm, heard it moan. He felt Freddy's hands pushing his/her dress up, pulling his/her panties down, and taking him/her there right on the desk. The office wasn't empty, and the risk of getting caught just added to the pleasure of it.

Fred was still screaming, still feeling the orgasm, when he found himself back in his own body. He was standing on the beach looking at Jamala.

"You are a most skilled lover, Master. If you still want my body..." she let the words trail off.

She was a beautiful as before, but Fred felt different about her now. "I do; I do," Fred said eagerly. "I want your body -- or one like it. I-I want to experience that sort of sex for the rest of my life. I...I want to be a woman, a beautiful woman." he blurted out the words, almost surprising himself. No, it wasn't a surprise. He had just experienced what might be described as a fifteen-year long multiple orgasm. Who wouldn't want to be a woman after something like that?

The sensation that followed was like being dipped headfirst in warm honey. Fred's hair grew long and silky, reaching down to just below the shoulders. His face soften as his cheekbones rose and his nose straightened and grew smaller. His lips seemed a bit larger, though. His Adam's apple shrank away, so that his voice was now a pleasant contralto. His body shrank and became thinner. What body hair he had disappeared except for the woman's inverted triangle in his crotch.

A woman's curves came in, now. He felt a pulling at his chest. His pects became breasts, growing out until they were a 36-C, pushing out his shirt. His waist narrowed and his hips grew wide. His ass grew out into the teardrop of a woman's ass. His arms and legs developed the supple roundness of a woman.

The final -- truly final -- change came last. His penis grew erect for the last time. It reached its full length before it began to shrink away. His testicles shrank and withdrew into his body to become ovaries. The empty sacks tightened, reduced to a pair of lips that surrounded the nub that was the last remnant of his manhood. The nub became even smaller as it settled down into the slit that was forming between his legs.

Fred Scofield was now a woman.

"How do I look? How do I look?" she asked eagerly. Jamala smiled and made a gesture. The air in front of him shimmered and became a sort of mirror. Fred stared at the reflection. She was beautiful, but... "Why am I still in these clothes, and where is my make-up and all that?"

"Master... Mistress, your wish was for the body of a woman. That was all. You are still Fred Scofield. You wear his clothes because he wore them, and you wear no make-up because he did not."

"The hell with that. I wish... I wish I was a girl, that I was always a girl as far as the rest of the world is concerned, dressed and made up for the male lover I want here with me as soon as possible."

"And that is your final wish?" Jamala smiled. It was the sort of smile a hawk would have as he swooped down on an unsuspecting squirrel.

"Yes, yes. That's what I wish."

Jamala nodded. "Then let it be done." She clapped her hand.

A flood of memories washed into Fred's mind. She still remembered being a male, but those memories were less clear. The clearer memories were of being a little girl, of her first bra, her first date, her first... the first time a boy had kissed her, had made love to her.

And she remembered that people called her Frieda, not Fred.

At that same instant, Frieda's clothes began to change. Her sport shirt lost its sleeves as it shifted from dark blue cotton to a pale blue Lycra. It was sheerer now, and the push-up bra that her T-shirt had become could be partly seen through it.

At the same time, her Dockers moved up her legs. They merged into a single tube of cloth that reformed into a blue beach skirt, with a matching pair of short shorts beneath it. Beneath them, what had been a pair of men's briefs was now a sheer thong panty.

Her sandals were still sandals, but they had a one-inch heel now. She felt something on her face and looked in the mirror again. "These clothes, they're beautiful and... make-up. I'm wearing make-up." She was, lipstick and blusher.

Frieda primped in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection. Then she pouted. "But I wished for a lover, too, a man to make me feel..." She shivered and hugged herself in anticipation.

"As my Mistress wishes," Jamala said. She clapped her hands. "Behold my true form, then."

The Djinn began to grow taller. Her curves filled out into hard angular muscle. Her hair shrank down into a thin layer of stubble, even as a beard grew out from her chin. Her breasts withdrew back into the hard pectorals of her chest even as the halter that had held them became a man's vest. Her pants remained, but they were the solid cloth of a pair of male pants. They even had the bulge at the crotch that hinted at what is so often found in a male's pants.

Frieda was looking at that same bulge. She licked her lips in anticipation as she felt the familiar tingling in her breasts and groin.

Jamal stepped forward, taking the eager woman in his arms. Tricking a human with their own wishes was the favorite sport of the Green Djinn. This human had given Jamal the chance to play a truly historic prank upon him. Not only that, but now she offered herself as a personal reward.

Jamal took the eager, new woman into his arms and disappeared into the egg that was the gateway to his own realm.

The End

In the midst of the Great Recession, computer analyst Harry Jerome finally found a job as driver and general go-fer for millionaire investor Tommy Del Fino. Del Fino is a bully who constantly belittles Harry. Then Harry finds a magic lamp.

Djinn Game IV
By Ellie Dauber (c) 2004

Harry Jerome pulled the car over to the side of the narrow dirt road. "I don't think this is the right road, Mr. Del Fino."

Tommy Del Fino leaned forward from the back seat. "What're you talking about? The map says this is the way to the hotel." His company, Del Fino Investments, owned 30 percent of Coral Breeze, a popular resort complex. Del Fino had decided to spend a long weekend checking out his investment -- and its female clientele.

"Didn't you say I should drive for five miles after we got off Rt. 119? The road was supposed to open onto the Coast Highway."

"You got it; it's right here on the map. What's the matter with you?" Harry could hear the sound of rustling paper.

"I've driven almost ten miles. There's no sign of the highway, and there's nothing ahead but a section of beach."

"You must've done something wrong; turned left when I said turn right."

"I've been following your directions exactly."

"Yeah, sure. I don't know why I ever hired a wuss like you to drive for me."

Harry clenched the wheel with both hands. 'You hired me as your executive assistant,' he thought, 'not as your personal slave.' Aloud he asked, "May I see the map?"

"Listen, you fag, I spent two hitches in the Guard. You telling me I don't know how to read a map?"

"I thought I could see where _I_ went wrong." Del Fino had been insulting Harry since the day he hired him. The way the economy was going, Harry tried hard to ignore it. The eight months he'd spent unemployed before he met Del Fino had taught him patience, if nothing else.

Del Fino looked out the window. "We're on a hill. Let's take this outside. You can spread the map out on the hood and look for landmarks."

"I'd rather stay inside if you don't mind. It's kind of windy out there. It'll be easier to work the map in here."

The rear door opened. "Now he's afraid of the damned wind. Get out of the car, you pansy." He climbed out without giving Harry a chance to argue. By the time Harry had gotten out and walked around to the other side, Del Fino had the map opened. It was catching the wind like a sail. Here, flake, you take it."

Harry reached for the map. At that moment, the wind gusted. It tore the map out of Del Fino's hand and lofted it like a kite. "Shit," Del Fino said. "Now look what you did."

Harry sighed and chased after it. Del Fino followed. Harry was a slender man in his early twenties, who ran three times a week. Del Fino was almost two decades older; he was larger, built like a wrestler, but with a well-developed beer belly. He soon fell far behind his employee.

The wind was playing with the map, lifting it to treetop heights before it swooped down like a hungry bird, almost touching the ground. Now the wind carried it out onto the beach. Harry speeded up, having no wish to follow the map into the ocean. If that was where the map went, Harry knew that Del Fino would expect him to follow.

The map swooped low. Harry saw something shiny sticking out of the sand tight where the map was heading. "Get it, please," he whispered, a sort of plea to the object -- whatever it was -- as he ran. "Have a spike, a sharp edge, anything to catch that damned map."

The object had something. The wind all but pushed the map towards the object. It ripped wide as it impaled itself on what looked like a horn at one end. Harry ran over and crumpled the map around the object before the wind ripped it loose. "Thank heavens," he said and started walking back to the car.

He'd walked about thirty feet by the time Del Fino caught up with him. "Took you long enough to catch that thing," he said, gasping for breath. "What the hell's it wrapped around?"

"I didn't look," Harry answered. He carefully pulled back a piece of the map, trying not to tear it any more. The object was brass, some kind of candle holder. No, it was... "A lamp," Harry said in surprise. "Like something out of the Arabian Nights."

"Yeah, and I suppose if you rub it, a what-ya-call-it... a genie'll pop out." He laughed. "Kid, you're even dumber than you look, and that's saying a lot."

"I didn't say it was magic," Harry said defensively. "I just thought it was an interesting looking piece of brass. I think I'm going to keep it."

"Keep it. Marry it. I don't give a damn. Just find the way to the hotel, or you'll need to hock it to eat. You understand me, fruitcake?" He turned and headed for the car, now several hundred feet away.

"Yes, sir." Harry folded the map as best he could and crammed it into a pocket of his jacket. He brushed some clumps of moist sand off the lamp and began to push it into another pocket when...

The lamp began to "thrummm!"

Harry almost dropped the lamp. A thin stream of greenish smoke flowed slowly out of the nose of the lamp. Rather than rise skyward, the smoke hung a few feet above the ground, forming into a thick cloud. Gradually, the cloud of smoke assumed a humanoid form.

"Greetings, my Master," the cloud said. It was now a slender man in green robes, his skin a darker shade of the same green.

"Who the... what the hell are you?"

"I, Master, am Ishaq, a princeling of the Green Djinn. You have freed me from my prison of a lamp, and I shall repay you with the granting of three wishes."

Del Fino ran over to the pair. "That man works for me. Those wishes are mine."

"What my Master has done to earn his bread matters not," Ishaq said. "He freed me from the lamp which he still holds. The wishes are his."

"Give me that thing, you little pansy." Del Fino pushed Harry in the chest.

Harry stumbled backwards, half falling half stumbling down the hill back towards the beach. His only thought was to hold onto the lamp, if only because Del Fino wanted it. He landed on his butt, and when he looked up, he saw Del Fino running towards him.

The older man had found a branch -- a piece of driftwood, maybe -- about three feet long. He was waving it menacingly as he ran.

Harry scrambled to his feet, moving backwards. He stepped into the water. "Help me, Ishaq. Help me."

"Is that your wish, Master?" The green man was suddenly next to him, sitting cross-legged about three feet off the ground.

"Yes! Yes, I wish you to help me, to keep Mr. Del Fino from hurting me."

"Done." The djinn made an odd gesture with his right hand.

Del Fino froze in place. A cone of silver energy surrounded him. 'He looks like a bug in a glass,' Harry thought. Inside the energy cone, Del Fino began to move again. He planted his feet and pushed against the cone with his whole body. When that didn't work, he began pounding it with his fists. Nothing worked.

"He cannot harm you, Master. He will remain within in that band of energy until you order me to release him." Ishaq chuckled unpleasantly. "Or until he dies."

"Dies? I-I never wanted him to die. I've thought about it, but I never really meant it. I still have two wishes left, don't I?"

"You do, Master. What would you have me do with this one?"

"I've had it with all his snide remarks about my manhood. I wish for you to change him... change him into a beautiful woman."

"What sort of beauty would you wish, Master?"

"What do you mean, umm... Ishaq?"

"Master, you are a son of Adam, a mortal human being. I am of the Green Djinn, an immortal of the Plane of Fire. Can you not perceive that we would have _very_ different ideas of feminine beauty?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Point taken. Go with the human..." He remembered something. "Wait a minute. I've read stories about what tricksters you djinn are supposed to be. Let's go with my idea of a beautiful woman."

"That is your wish, Master, that I transform this one..." he pointed at Del Fino "...into your ideal female beauty?"

"Yes, and I mean my _current_ ideal, not what I might have thought when I was five or what I might think when I'm 105 and senile."

Harry looked at Del Fino, who was mouthing something that Harry couldn't hear. From the expression on Del Fino's face and the gestures he was making, Harry suspected that the imprisoned man had heard every word that Harry and Ishaq had just spoken. Del Fino was pushing himself back against the far wall of the energy cone, shaking his hands as if to say, "No."

"Well played, Master, to word your wish as you have." Ishaq touched his forehead as if in salute. Then he made a second odd gesture at Del Fino.

The man in the cone _shimmered_. He shrank about six inches, his clothes shrinking, so that they still fit. As he shrank, Del Fino became slimmer. His shoulders narrowed. The muscles in his arms melted away. So did his rather respectable beer belly. His ham-sized fists became much smaller.

Del Fino's thinning, dull brown hair changed to a vibrant brown with auburn highlights. It became fuller, as it grew down over his eyes, past his neck, to pool around his shoulders, a mass of curls.

His square jaw softened. His face became heartshaped, with high cheekbones. His lips were thicker, with more of a permanent pout that begged to be kissed. His nose straightened and shrank to an upturned pug. His brown eyes were now green with gold flecks. He looked younger, too. Perhaps no older than Harry.

Two breasts suddenly blossomed beneath Del Fino's shirt. From the way they pushed it out, Harry guessed that they were at least 36-D. Del Fino's hips were widening as well. His pants were tighter now, around a narrower waist, and on down legs that had a much more girlish set of curves to them. There was no bulge at the crotch.

Tommy "Bull" Del Fino was now a woman.

And the changes weren't over. The sleeves of Del Fino's suit jacket disappeared, and it grew tighter as if becoming a vest. Shirt, vest, and pants merged into a single garment that looked like an odd jumpsuit. The garment altered, the pants flaring out and fusing together. It became oddly mottled. In a moment, it was a flowing, knee-length blue and yellow summer dress with a tight bodice and puffed sleeves. The collar was low, showing the tops of her pillowy breasts.

Del Fino's dark gray socks slid up his legs, becoming lighter, sheerer, joining at the hips as a pair of almost invisible pantyhose. Black oxfords whitened, losing their front as they grew a modest heel. They were now a pair of low-heeled slippers the same blue color as the dress.

There was polish on Del Fino's fingers and toes. His lips were colored with a pink gloss. There was blusher on his cheeks and mascara on his lashes. The odors of aftershave and male sweat were gone, replaced by the faint scent of lilacs.

Now the transformation was complete. Del Fino was truly lovely. Harry felt himself stiffen as he looked at her. "All right, Ishaq, you can release her now." He grinned evilly, as the energy field faded away and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "This is gonna be _fun_."

Del Fino's eyes went wide with disbelief and -- yes -- fear. Then her expression changed. She closed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to clear it. When she opened her eyes a moment later, she was crying. She ran to Harry and fell to her knees in front of him.

"Begging for mercy, _Mr._ Del Fino?" Harry asked cynically. "It won't help you." His hand moved towards his zipper. "But as long as you're in that position..."

Del Fino looked up at him, her eyes full of tears. "Do... do whatever you want to me, Harry. I d-deserve it for the horrible way I treated you."

"Damn straight." His hand hesitated. There was something... something so very compelling about the woman.

He was trying to understand his feelings, when she suddenly blurted out, "I love you, Harry, love you with all my heart and soul."

He tried to laugh. "That should make it even more... even... more..." He reached down and gently helped her to her feet. "I... I can't do it. I... love you, too." He took her in his arms and kissed her, still unsure of what was happening. He felt her arms around him, her body pressed eagerly against his, as the kiss deepened from their new, _shared_ need.

When they finally, reluctantly broke the kiss, Harry looked around. The djinn was standing a few feet away, a satisfied grin on his face.

"You managed to trick me after all," Harry said. "I wanted to torture her, to pay her back for all the pain and humiliation she caused me when she was a man."

"Indeed, Master," Ishaq said. "And now you want to cherish and protect her." He laughed. "Yet, how can it be otherwise. You wished her to be your ideal woman, and what manner of man would not have his ideal woman love him?"

Harry completed the thought. "And what man could help but love his ideal woman? Regardless of who or what she had been."

"That, Master, is the cream of the jest. You truly love each other with all your hearts, even thought your minds tell you that you should not."

Harry thought for a moment. He was trained as a logic systems engineer, even if no one was hiring. This was just the sort of puzzle he'd been trained to solve. "Okay, Ishaq, my final wish is that this woman has always been... Mandy... Amanda Del Fino, daughter of the owner of Del Fino Investments, and... as of yesterday, my loving bride."

The djinn laughed. "Very well played, Master. It has been a long time since I came so close to meeting my match in such a game of Wits and Wishes, as we call it." He made a sweeping gesture with both arms, ending by pointing at Harry and... Amanda.

"I beat you," Harry said. He was feeling odd. He sat down next to Amanda, as a wave of dizziness flowed over the pair of them.

"Did you, my _former_ Master?" Ishaq began to fade away. "If she has _always_ been Amanda, then you have no memory of finding the lamp or making any wishes. How can you say that you have bested me when you have no memory of doing so?" As he finished, the djinn and the lamp vanished.

Harry suddenly found himself sitting in a beach chair, looking into the eyes of Mandy, his bride of one day. They were on the lawn of the Coral Breeze Hotel. Her father was one of the owners of the hotel complex, and their month-long honeymoon stay was his wedding gift.

"Are you all right?" she asked, gently running a finger along his jawline.

He smiled at her. "Just a little tired. I... we... ah, didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Maybe you should go lie down in the room for a bit."

"That might be a good idea." He stood and looked down at her. She was wearing a short, blue and yellow robe over a very skimpy matching bikini. "Care to join me?"

She raised her hand. He took it and helped her to her feet. "That might be a good idea." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I think I could use a nap just now."

Harry put his arm around her lovely, narrow waist. "And you'll have one... eventually."

Now Mandy grinned. "Just so it's not too soon."

They joined hands and all but ran back to their cabana suite. As he ran, Harry thought that he heard a deep baritone laugh, but no one seemed to be around.

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."