Subtitle: I DREAM OF GENE
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Note to prospective reader: I think of myself not as a writer or an author, but as a surrealistic wordsmith, pioneering the literary art form of Out-based Free-prose. Therefore, in the following composition, any and all adherence to the rules governing the proper use of the English Language is purely coincidental. The reader will find the sentence structure has a marked tendency to be somewhat cumbersome, due to the extremely liberal use of adjectives. Also, the follow piece has its' fair share of dangling participles and a whole caboodle of hyphenated words.
Another note to the prospective reader: The following story was based on a fairly simple, though admittedly far fetched premise and was allowed to evolve on its' own, surprising your most humble and obedient surrealistic wordsmith with some of the twist and turns it took as it did so.
And yet another tiresome note to the prospective reader: The follow story contains sexually explicit and transgender related material. If you are under age or are afraid that the perusal of such vulgar subjects might curve your spine, grow hair on the palms of your hands, rot your brain or something or other along those lines, the answers is simple. STOP! READ NO FURTHER!
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Weather permitting, Gene Renyolds and his wife generally spent their Saturday mornings rummaging around flea-markets and yard-sales, looking for what they, in their lexicon, had come to term 'treasures'. Ann, Gene's better-half, kept an eye out for brass fabricated whatnots and doodads, while her husband tended to busied himself checking out used tools and other sundry handyman-like paraphernalia.
"Look, dear!", Ann gleefully exclaimed as linked up with her husband at the end of the row of display tables they had been browsing through. "Look what I found!"
"Wow!", having nonchalantly given the highly tarnished and crude encrusted item a cursory glance, Gene sarcastically chided. "Gee, hon! Another Persians lamp! Just what we need! Let's see! What's that make? Five? Six?
"No!", Gene quickly corrected himself. "I plum forgot about that gaudy, semi-precious jewel encrusted eyesore that you absolutely had to have last week!
"Wait! It couldn't have been last week! Last week we were down the ocean! And you and I didn't go flea-marketing while we were there. So, given that, it had to be the week before last! It was, wasn't it, dear?"
"Yes.", Ann concurred good naturedly.
"Well, If my recollection serves me right, if we add this new one into the count, I do believe that that makes a grand total of seven these Chinese or Taiwanese knock-off Persian- styled brass lamps that you've picked up here of late.
"I mean to tell you honey, to my way of thinking, you've got a real collection going! Soon... sure as shootin'... knowing you... it won't be long now before you're going to want me to make some sort of shelf to display them on.
"What gives, Ann? Have you all of a sudden developed a Persian lamp fetish or, are you secretly harboring the far fetched hope that one fine day, like Aladin of legend, you're going to come into the possession of one that actually houses an all powerful, turban wearing, muscular, hairy chested, forearms banded in eighteen karat gold bracelet-like what-ya'-ma-call- 'ems, wish fulfilling genie? Y'know, that's straight out of Sheharrazod's a Thousand and One Tales of the Arabian Knights!"
"No, dear!", Ann replied, adding a whimsical after-thought, "Though I must admit. It sure would be nice were something like that to happen. I mean, think about it, dear. Wouldn't it be a hoot to have a magic wielding genie at your every beck and call?"
"Why, Ann? Please tell me!", Gene chided. "Just what in the world do you need a genie for? After all, you've got little old at your every beck and call! Granted... I'm a first class procrastinator... but even though I am... don't I pretty much attend to your every bidding! And, if I do say so myself, though I must admit I do have my fair share of faults, all in all, I'm a pretty good husband... not to mention, a step-and-fetch-it to boot! Aren't I? I mean, though I've yet to win the lottery, all things considered, you have to admit that I do a fair to midland job of providing for you."
"Yes, dear." Ann was quick to add, "Though you have yet to come up to my parents' rather grandiose and unrealistic expectations of what a husband is supposed to be and do, I must say: all in all, you do a pretty good job of it. Far better than most. Though,", she added in a hasty afterthought, "there's always room for improvement.
"However,", Ann, holding the tarnished, gunk and crude encrusted lamp in one hand and reaching down to grasp her husband's hand with her other, continued on playfully, "if you'd like to make your little wiffey happy, dear, and there by, increase your chances of getting lucky tonight, perhaps... when we get home... after I fix us some lunch... would you'd be so kind as to work a little bit of your own brand of handyman magic on this new lamp of ours. I do believe, that once you get all the tarnish and gunk off of it, this new find of mine is going to be the center piece of my budding Persian lamp collection."
"Cute! Real cute! You know, that's flat out and out bribery, Ann! If I'm hearing you right... and I sincerely belive that I am... your saying: that if I want to get laid tonight, it would be in my best interest were I to get on the stick and see what I can do about getting all of that crude, gunk and tarnish off that new 'treasure' of your's."
"Please!", Ann returned. "I promise: I'll make it worth your while, Gene.
"In fact, dear... if you'll see what you can do about cleaning up this lamp for me this afternoon, and not put it on that proverbial back burner of yours... y'know, like you tend to do with most of the projects that I've asked you to do for me... I'll go you one better. Tonight, as a precursor to our love making... just to tickle that perverse and perverted fancy of your's... I'll even go so far as to wear that kinky little black satin maid's outfit that you gave me as, what I took to be a gag gift, on my last birthday. High heels! Mess stockings! The works!"
"You will!", Gene's tone signified that he was both intrigued and delighted with his wife's most generous and intriguing offer.
"Yes, dear.", Ann replied, "Though I'm probably going to regret it... y'know, given how foolish I'll feel getting all gussied up in that skimpy getup... if you'll see what you can do about cleaning up this new Persian lamp of mine... knowing fully well how much of a kick you'd get out of seeing me decked out in one of those dick-teaser specials that you - though you can hardly ever cajole me into wearing one 'em for you - keep buying for me... I promise! Tonight, I'll bite the bullet; stow my inhibitions and wear one of the darn things for you.
"Deal?", Ann queried.
"Deal!", Gene quipped enthusiastically, if not excitedly.
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Just thinking about his wife and how fetchingly provocative she would look decked out in that sexy black satin maid's outfit titillated the hell out of Gene's rather vivid imagination. No matter how hard he tried, over and over again, all throughout the drive back to their home, the image of Ann prancing around in such revealing and blatantly seductive garb kept cropping up in his mind.
Needless to say, by the time he pulled into their driveway, Gene Renyolds was one motivated puppy. In fact, his wife's promise had him so no holds bar motivated that no sooner had he gotten in the front door of their house, he was dashing off to the sanctum sanctorum of his basement workshop; there, to fetch his self-complied, handy-dandy, brass clean kit. Shortly thereafter, even as his wife turned to the task of preparing their lunch at the kitchen counter, which was to consist of grilled cheese sandwiches, chips and a couple of dill pickle slices, Gene, having first spread a wealth of old newspapers over one entire end of their kitchen table, placed his wife's newly acquired lamp directly on the paper before him. Then, in a cursory effort to see just how much a chore the lamp's restoration would entail, Gene, knowing that he would have to stop shortly and eat the sandwiches that Ann was even then preparing, decided to get a head start on the project. So opting, he scanned the arsenal of cleaning implements at hand and selected a twill cleaning cloth and a small bottle containing several ounces of your everyday, industrial strength, handy- dandy, liquid brass cleaner. Dabbing the twill cloth with of few drops of the cleaning fluid, he started in on the lamp.
One rub. Two rubs. And then, just as he was on the reciprocating, backward drawing portion of the circular motion of his third preliminary rubbing endeavor, a most astonishing thing occurred.
Without any sort of attention garnishing pyrotechnic flash or, for that matter, ominous heralding sound, Gene and Ann's life together was, at that instant in time, being subjected to a drastic and traumatic mystical revamping.
Given the fact that he rarely, if ever, employed the F- word, a very uncharacteristic, and somewhat irrational sounding shriek of Gene's startled and somewhat choked off, "What the Ffff... uck!", was the first and only indication that his wife had that anything was amiss.
Fearing that something awful had happened, that perhaps some of the caustic cleaning fluid had somehow gotten in one or both of her husband's eyes or, that he had gotten careless and inadvertently spilled some of the brass cleaner on the brand new linoleum floor that he had, after one hell of a lot of procrastination on his behalf, finally gotten around to installing for her - Ann immediately ceased what she was doing and pivoted briskly about.
The phenomenon that Ann Renyolds beheld as she turned to face the end of the table that her husband had been seated at defied her ability to comprehend. There was Gene. Or, more accurately, there was what was left of Gene. From mid chest upwards, Gene was still the Gene that she had known and loved since high school. However, from mid chest downward, for all intent and purposes, Gene's lower extremities had plum up and vanished into a severely tapering, violently whirling, cyclone- like, purple-violet tinged funnel that sort of emulated a witch's high peeked hat turned topsy-turvy and failed - by a good foot or more - to extent itself all the way down to the linoleum.
As far as Ann could tell, Gene's feet and legs were completely gone and, given the severity of the funnel's downward tapering, her logic decreed that there was absolutely no way that the madly spinning, purple-violet vortex could ever begin to conceal her husband's hips, abdomen or, for that matter, the lowermost portion of his chest.
"Ann!", Gene frantically wailed as the cyclone-like funnel continued to extend itself steadily upward, engulfing and eradicating both his upper torso and his aimlessly flailing arms in the process. "Help meeeeee! Pleeeease! My body! It's coming apart! Unraveling! Molecule by molecule! Atom by atom!"
And then, in a blink of an eye, Gene was gone. Vanished. Nothing remained, save for the frantically swirling, purple- violet, cyclone-like funnel. For a lingering instant, the wildly spinning tornado-like funnel hovered just above the chair that Ann's husband had been occupying but a brief moment or so before. Then, the swirling, purple-violet, twister-like vortex began to rise and as it did, it re-positioned itself so that its' tapered lower apogee hovered just inches above table top. Once so position, the cyclone-like funnel's tapered lower apogee appeared to Ann as if it were drawn horizontally, directly towards the lip of the lamp's rune decorated, crude encrusted spout. So positioned, in, what was to Ann, a sickening sucking sounding whoosh, the purple-violet funnel-like whatever-you-what-to-call- it was dramatically drawn downward into the lamp's interior in a manner which, to Ann's way of thinking, was very reminiscent of how Jeannie - of 'I Dream of Jeannie' fame - was drawn down into her bottle.
"Oh, My God!", Ann exclaimed in pained disbelief as she boldly advanced upon the table and the crude encrusted lamp which rested so sedately upon it.
"Gene!", she gasp, knowing that the airing of her husband's name was a little more than a futile endeavor. "What the hell happened? What in the world did you do?"
To her credit, Ann Renyolds, who, according to her husband, could be a real air-head of a dizbang at times, tended to functioned extremely well under the duress imposed by crises situations. Truth be told, it always amazed Gene how his wife could remain so calm, cool and collected when darn near everyone around her seemed to becoming apart at the seams.
Needless to say, Ann Renyolds found herself right smack dab in the middle of what her grandfather would have termed a real genuine sockdolager of a crises situation. Taking a few deep, settling breaths to still both her ire and her ragging state of befuddled confusion, Ann endeavored to do what Gene would have done under similar circumstances, and that was: apply a health dose of logic to the situation.
Quickly, Ann mentally complied the facts as she knew them to be. One: her husband had been dickering around with what looked to be a Persian lamp, quite possible the genuine article. Two: according to all the pertinent legends and their various fablized renditions, some Persian lamps were reputed to house genies. Three: these so called jinns and genies generally entered and exited their lamps... or, in some depictions, like on the sitcom 'I Dream of Jeannie', bottles via, what Ann thought of as the metaphysical disassembling/reassembling method... y'know, the ancient Arabian precursor of Star Trek's nifty transporter system, that in layman's terms, basically digitalized a person's physical being for darn near instantaneous transmission to some other local. Four: generally speaking, one summoned a jinn or genie by rubbing the prescribed containment vessel, be that prescribed containment vessel a lamp, bottle, gilded box or whatever.
Having been a devotee of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's super sleuth Sherlock Holmes, Ann readily agreed with the world's first consulting detective's oft quoted postulate that, in bastardized form, roughly stated: that when the facts of a case clearly poo- pooed all the probably solutions, what was left, no matter how improbable, had to be only conclusion a logical person could deduce. So, bearing that oft quote Holmesian postulate in mind, Ann Renyolds, in her desperation, embraced the only hope she had at hand, with that fragile hope being: that her husband's body had somehow undergone some sort of metaphysical disassembling process and that his essential essence now resided in some magically induced state of being - genie-like - within the lamp's confines.
'Okay,', Ann asked herself. "If that's what occurred... if Gene's undergone some sort of magical transformation and has been sucked into this lamp, how the hell do I get him out? Do I just rub the lamp and hope that it - I guess you could say - regurgitates him?
'Wait just a ding dong moment!', Ann mentally chided herself. 'Don't be hasty! Think it through!
'What's the worst thing that can happen?
Answering herself, Ann quickly replied, 'What happened to Gene could happen to me! I could get all physically discombobulated and end up getting sucked in there with him!
'Yes!', the Ann mental countered herself. 'Yes, you could! There's always that possibility. But, is that really the worst thing that could happen.'
Ann, supplying an answer to her own inquiry, 'No! The worst thing that I can thing of can happening is: that nothing at all will happen! I mean, if I do, in the end, opt to give rubbing the lamp a go, and that results in me getting sucked inside as well, so be it! At least I'll be with Gene, in whatever form or state of being that life - if indeed there is life - inside the lamp entails.
'Besides,', Ann number 1 continued, 'maybe it'll work! Maybe, if I rub the lamp while wishing, with my whole heart and soul, to have my husband back, the lamp will reciprocate and reproduce him. I mean, it's worth the risk, isn't it?'
'Yes...', Ann, at a loss to come up with any alternatives, concurred with herself, 'Yes... It's definitely worth the risk!'
And so, having arrived at the decision to give rubbing the lamp a go, Ann picked the lamp up and, cradling in the crux of her left arm, began the first of three very defined and firmly applied circular motions of her right hand; caressing, in a somewhat forceful manner, the tarnished and gunked-up outer surface of the lamp; all the while wishing, in her heart of hearts, for her husband's return.
One rub. Two rubs. And the all important third rub. And shazam! The lamp shuddered once and then, in answer to Ann's most heart felt desire, began to spume out a billowing and ever expanding, swirling, cyclone-like, purple-violet vortex. Then, once the mini-twister-like funnel formed, it scooted off to an open area of the kitchen floor where in hovered and succinctly began to coalesce itself into something that began to emulate the human form. Within seconds, the form had taken on definite, recognizable human characteristic, such as arms, legs and a pair of rather ample, if not succulent, halter encased mammary glands.
"Shit!', Ann riled. 'Shit! Shit! Shit! Those are definitely breast and my Gene - most assuredly - doesn't have breast!'
Sure enough, the fuming, purple-violet, funnel-like, whatever-you-what-to-call-it was transforming itself into a human. Trouble was, the human it was transforming itself into was definitely of the female persuasion.
And what a striking female the swirling vortex was coalescing itself into.
Petite! About five two at the most. Blonde! Of the striking, platinum blonde, eye-riveting variety. Dazzling and beguiling sapphire hued eyes! The kind of eyes that could, with little or no effort, entice a man to willing immerse his most ardent and scandalous desire within them. And for toppers, a most bodacious bod of a body! A sculpture, flawless, built like a brick shithouse body. The kind of body that could, and probably would, cause a whole bevy of Playboy's most drop-dead gorgeous playmates to turn a putrid and most envious tinge of vivid green.
It should also be noted that the blue and gold harem-girl ensemble that the little blonde blue-eyed bombshell of a male- libido captivating creature was so scandalous decked out in did nothing to detract from her overall appearance. Fact is: though it's impact failure to register on a gravely disheartened Ann, the harem-girl outfit only served to enhance the female genie's - for that's what Ann took the girl to be - overall appearance.
'Now that's strange! Really strange!', Ann, who was fretfully biding her time to address the little blonde bombshell, couldn't help but reflexively pondered. 'One might expect a genie to undergo a smidgen of disorientation upon materializing. After all, being couped up in the cramped confines of a brass lamp for - God knows how long! - can't be a whole hell of a lot of fun. But this is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!
'I mean... she's about as discombobulated as discombobulated can be! Just look at the frenzied and frantic way she's keeps plucking at the diaphanous material of her pantaloons... not to mention, the crass and oafish manner she alternates between squeezing the shit out of those ample breast of hers and groping her crotch! Shit! It looks as if she's as befuddled and perplexed as I am! Hell! She's so damn preoccupied playing a game of grab-ass with herself, it's a safe bet to say that she doesn't even know I'm here!
'Well...', Ann mentally chided herself. 'What's it going to be, girl? Are we going to stand here all day, watching Little Miss Lamp-spawn feel herself up one side and down the other... or, are we going to see what in the hell we can do about getting Gene back?'
"Okay, sister!", Ann demanded in a belligerent huff that achieve the desired effect of securing the little blonde bombshell of a genie's attention. "Enough's enough! It's high time you stop playing grab-ass with yourself and tell me: just who in the hell are you and just what in the hell have you up and done with my husband?
"You see, I want him back! And I want him back now! And if that going to take a wish on my part to achieve it... so be it!
"I wish for my husband back!"
With a pained look a sheer and utter desperation welling up out the depths of her sapphire blue eyes, the stunning, harem clad femme fatale, who, Ann noted, was still aimless and unconsciously plucking at the diaphanous material of her thong- bikini tethered pantaloons, among other things, despairingly and hesitantly replied, "Ann... it's me! Gene! Your husband!'
"Get real!", Ann scoffed. "Look, dearie! I don't know what kind of scam you're trying to pull here, but I do know my husband! I can tell you: you ain't him!
"He's a man! Your a woman! And never the twain shall meet!"
"So cut the crap, sister! Just tell me what you've done with him and then, tell me what I need to do to get him back?"
Assuming the hands outstretched stance and deportment of a humble and pleading supplicant, the harem clad little blonde hastily and passionately proceeded on to entreated Ann to hear her out. "Please... Ann!', her speech was strained. She stammered, fumbling for her words, "As crazy as it must surely sound... I not lying! What I told you before, Ann... is the truth! Regardless of the fact that I've now got a girl's body... I'm really... truly... am your husband, Gene!
"Yeah! Right!", Ann, who's patient was wearing thin, countered with pure, unadulterated sarcasm, "And friggin' I'm the Queen of Sheba!"
"Ann! Please! Please! You've got to believe me! I'm Gene... or... I was Gene... y'know, before I got sucked into that so and so of a lamp of your's and got somehow fitted out with this... this... this... damnable, femmed out to the friggin' max of a body!"
Though she would have like to repudiate the lithe little blonde's assertion out of hand, give the fat that the very notion that her husband had somehow been magically turned into a girl, repulsed her to no end, Ann, who was, according to Gene, magnanimous to a fault, found that, given all the magical/mystical shit involved, the harem-clad girl might just be telling the truth. If the lamp could metaphysically digitalized someone into a whirling cyclone-like vortex and then, suck that digitalized, swirling funnel-like whatever into it's innards, she had to assume that a full blown sex change wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. As repugnant as the concept was to contemplate for Ann, the girl might really be Gene.
"Alright! If you're are indeed my husband... reincarnated in female form... tell me: why did the lamp do this dastardly thing to you? I mean... have you been harboring a secret desire to be a woman, or what?"
As the Gene-claimant (or should that be Gene-claimette) opened her mouth to respond to Ann's latest query, something untold occurred. For the span of several of Ann's rather exacerbated heart beats, the blonde bombshell's physique was riveted by an uncharacteristic, if not, unnatural rigidity. As it did so, Ann, who was standing about one full body's length away, perceived a strange and somewhat disquieting visual phenomenon surrounded the girl's supple form. In a fashion that mimicked the shadow-like image produced by the double-exposure of a single of frame of photographic film, the harem-clad femme fatale's body was silhouetted by a halo-like display of multiple, slightly off-set images, that, to Ann's perception, looked something akin to the visual effect produced by the rapid, blur- inducing, vibrations of a recently struck tuning fork.
Then, with the abrupt cessation of that disquieting visual phenomenon and its' accompany induced physical rigidity, the exquisite blue-eyed blonde, who, to Ann's way of thinking, appeared complete oblivious to the phenomenon's occurrence, replied, "No, Ann! Regardless how it might appear, there's no way in hell that I was harboring some latent desire to be a woman! It was all the lamp's doing!
"You see Ann, the opulent, desert warmonger of potentate who commissioned this particular lamp was very specific. Unlike most perspective magic lamp owners, who generally didn't give a tinker's damn about the sexual affiliation of their lamp's resident jinn... 'y'know, just as long as said jinn functioned as advertised... this particular potentate, given his darn near insatiable, if not, legendary apatite for beautiful women, desired his lamp's jinn to be brazeningly and beguilingly female.
"So anyhow, Ann... having procured the necessary containment vessel... in this case, a rather mundane Persian oil lamp... the magic-user artisans who had undertaken the potentate's commission, having first skilfully ensnared the essential essence of an all powerful elemental being, imprisoned that essential metaphysical essence within the lamp.
"However, before this cadre of magic-user artisans could introduce the required human element... y'know, that would, through some rather convoluted mystical manipulations, become bonded with the elemental being's essential essence, thusly creating the lamp's resident jinn, something out of the ordinary must have occurred and, for what ever reason, the human component was never introduced into the metaphysical equation.
"Then, you come along and purchase the lamp. You cunningly entice me into cleaning it for you... y'know, via that intriguing offer of yours. And whalla! I innocently go and get myself sucked down inside of the dastardly thing where, unbeknownst to little old your's truly, I end up getting jinnhood whipped on me! And then, to top the whole inglorious thing off, given some very persnickety preset conditions that were just lounging around waiting to be enacted by the presence of the human element, I end up with a body that's - balls to the walls - about as bodaciously feminine as bodaciously feminine can be!
"I mean... even on my good days, Ann... try as I might... I'd have a hell of a hard time conjuring up a sexual fantasy dream date that looks even half as spectacular as I friggin' do now!"
"Oh, my God!", Ann exclaimed, conceding the fact that the alluring blonds was indeed her husband. "Gene! It is you, isn't it!"
Gene, using his hands to give both of his newly installed mammary protrusion an emphasizing jiggle, "Yeah...", the tone of his newly honey sweeten voice clearly registering both his sarcasm and distress, "It's me! Your husband! And guess what, hon... not that I'm in any way, shape or form exactly thrilled about it... mine are bigger than your's!"
"This is awful! Simply awful!", Ann concurred. "What are we going to do about it, Gene?"
Once again the jinnified Gene Renyold's ultra femininized bod of a most bodacious body went stark raving rigid and underwent the multiple-image overlay thing-of-a-ma-bob that Ann had witness but a moment or so before.
"Nothing that I know of Ann.", the blonde, blue eyed and amply breasted Gene replied, once the what-ya-ma-call-it of a thing-of-a-ma-bob had succinctly come and gone. "As far as I know, the effects of what happened to me... y'know, when I got yanked down into that lamp... are irreversible!"
"But you're a genie now, aren't you Gene? And genies are reputed to possess rather substantial magically powers! So... if that's the case, Gene... couldn't I just wish you back to your former manly self?"
Ann's inquiry seem to trigger yet another onset of the sort duration, multiple-image overlay thing-of-a-ma-bob phenomenon that had twice before visited themselves upon her newly transsexualized jinn of a husband.
"Yes mistress, it is true that I have become the genie of the lamp. However, even though I now possess an almost unimaginable magical potential, should you wish me to resume my former form as a male, I regret that I will not be able to comply. The lamp will simply not allow me to do so. It was ordained long ago, by those long dead magical artisans that fashioned the lamp, that it was to house a beautiful female jinn. You may, should you elected to do so, direct me to alter my physical deployment to suit your whims. You can command me to either increase or decrease my present stature. Change the color of my hair. Make it long or short. Kinky or straight. You can command me to assume any or all the characteristic of any race. You can, should you so choose, have me increase or decrease the size of my breast. You can direct me to appear either a tad bit younger or a smidgen older. However, no matter what you elect, given the edicts present in the lamp, I will remain both female and beautiful."
Ann had been so pre-occupied with something that her ultra feminized husband had said that she had been somewhat distracted and, though she believe that she had caught the gist of what he, as a she, had said, the details had, as they are apt to say, fallen by the wayside.
"Did I hear you right?", Ann posed the question. "Did you just now call me 'mistress'?"
"Yes mistress, I did.", Gene, with that new, honey sweet voice of his, returned flatly.
"Protocol, mistress. You are the rightful owner of the lamp. I am its' jinn. I therefore am to address you properly and 'mistress' is the proper term for a jinn to employ when addressing a woman who is possession of her lamp."
"That's nonsense!", Ann heated countered. "You may be the genie of the lamp now, but your also my husband, Gene! And I'll be damned if my husband... even if he's up and turned into a genie and been femmed out to the friggin' max in the process... is going to call me 'mistress'! Ann, honey or any form of endearment will suffice! So, let's loose the 'mistress' crap! Okay?"
"Yes, Misss... - Ann! I will endeavor to heed your wishes!"
"Good! At least we've taken care of that particular fly in the ointment!", Ann commented, feeling like she had made at least a little progress in trying to get a handle on the situation.
"Now Gene... now that you and I have an understanding about that 'mistress' crappolla, let's also loose all this formality bullcrap that seems to have cropped up here of late! Okay? You're you... Well... you're not the you that you use to be... but you know what I mean, don't you, Gene?"
"Yes, Misss... - Ann! I do. I will try to do as you ask. However, miss... - Ann, I need you to be aware that I dealing with a whole slew of preset conditions and compulsions. So please, bear with me. I might - from time to time - lapse and miss-speak myself."
"Fair enough!", Ann returned. "Now, Gene... due to that 'mistress' crappolla of yours... I might have been a wee bit distracted. So, let me get something straight here. Did you... or did you not say something to the effect that you are unable to turn yourself back into a man?"
"Yes, Misss... - Ann, I did. While you can direct me to modify my appearance to suit your whims, regrettable, the lamp was designed to house a beautiful female jinn and so, a female jinn I will remain."
"Alright...", Ann replied thoughtfully. "Let's see...
"Gene! Do you remember the Disney film 'Aladin'?"
"Yes, Misss... - Ann, I do.", Gene's honey sweetened voice return, registering his confusion as to where his wife was going with this new tact of her's.
"Well... at the end of the movie Aladin freed the genie with his last and final wish. So... I was wondering if I could do likewise and gain your freedom with wish?"
For a third time, rigidity, accompanied by the multiple- image overlay thing-of-a-jig-of-a-ma-bob of a short-lived seizure, momentarily imposed itself on Gene Renyold's ultra feminized bod of a most striking and bodacious body.
"No!", Gene pleaded. "That's not a good idea, mistress! Sorry! Ann!"
"And just why isn't it, Gene?"
"Because, Ann... were you do that... given the fact that the elemental half of the new me is a whole hell of a lot more powerful than the human half of me... once freed, the elemental half of me would skedaddle back to the neither realms it and its' kind inhabit, taking the human half of the new and thoroughly feminized me right along with it!"
"Oh!", Ann quipped. "Then, I guess that isn't a viable idea."
"No, Misss... - Ann! It most assuredly isn't!
"While I'm anything but ecstatic about my current situation... y'know, what with me and my being a femmed out to the friggin' max of lamp housed jinn... given the chaotic charged impressions I have of the metaphysical neither realms of existence, I'll take the this jinnified harem girl shit any day of the friggin' week!"
"Okay!", Ann concurred. "So were does that leaves us?"
"Back at the beginning, Misss... - Ann. You are the lamp's rightfully owner. I am its' resident jinn. Your wish, therefore, is my command."
"Hmm...", Ann tone was thoughtful. "So... how many wishes do I get, Gene? The customary three?"
Ann's question, or so she presumed, triggered yet another brief duration, rigid, image-overlay whatever-you-want-to-call-it of a fit to invest itself upon her blonde haired, blue eyed, amply endowed, harem girl-clad, jinn femme fatale of once upon a short time ago of a husband.
"No, Misss... - Ann!", Gene replied once the seizure had come and gone, "You are not constrained to a mere three wishes. As long as you remain the rightful owner of the lamp, my magic is your's to command."
"Are you saying,", Ann, seeking qualification, proceeded on to inquiry, "that I have an unlimited number of wishes?"
"Yes, Mmmm... - Ann... that's is correct."
"However,", Gene continued, endeavoring to qualify his prior statement, "you should be aware, Ann... that a jinn is much like a common, ordinary, everyday battery, given the fact that I have only so much magical potential available to me during any physical manifestation of mine. When that magical potential is spent, I must return to the lamp to re-charge myself. Also, you should be aware that, out of necessity, I will be forced, from time to time, to return to my lamp in order to replenish the elemental aspect of this new make-up of mine.
"But getting back to subject of wishes... Let me re-assure you, Mmmm... - Ann! While some jinns have been fashion by their makers to be first class tricksters, abiding by the letter of the stated wish and not by intent of the intoner's desires, have no fear. I have not been fashion to be that sort of jinn. If you will allow me the liberty, when and wherever possible, I will endeavor to aid you in fashioning and phrasing your wishes so as to assure that whatever goal or outcome you desire is fully achieve.
"When in doubt, Ann, fear not. I shall seek your clarification.
"Yeah...", Ann, who appeared somewhat befuddled about something or other, readily agreed, "Sounds good to me!
"Gene!", Ann intoned, with the implication being that another question had pooped into her head.
"Yes...", Gene replied, as he, as the amply endowed she that he had become, unconsciously reached up and, jostling his right mammary protrusion, adjusted its' deployment within the cup of the golden satin halter top it - his recently distended boobie - resided within.
"Tell me something!"
"If I can, Mmmm... - Ann."
"Every now and again... seemingly when I ask you a question... something strange occurs."
"Yes, Gene. It does."
"Like you go all rigid! And then, for just a quick second or so, you undergo some sort of... what I can only describe as... some sort of out of phase juxtapose of your image. It's like you go out of sync with yourself and one after another of your images gets sort of superimposed on top of the others...
"What gives, Gene? What's happening?"
"Oh, that...", Gene appeared nonchalant about Ann's observations. "It's nothing. To tell you the truth, Ann, I wasn't aware that it was even noticeable."
"Well it is! And I'd really like to know why you keep doing it!", Ann demanded tersely.
"The explanation is rather simple", Gene began as he absentmindedly began to once again crassly and oafishly grope his newly reconstructed crotch, endeavoring - in a vain effort - to re-position the male anatomy that he - as a she - no longer sported.
"As you know, Mmmm... - Ann, there wasn't a whole hell of a lot of elapse time between my getting sucked into the lamp and your subsequent summoning me forth. And because there wasn't, I hadn't even begun to assimilate all the various shit that I needed to know to function as a jinn.
"Fact is, Ann: I had just completed bonding with the essence of the lamp-ensnared elemental when you summoned me forth. And due that, when I re-materialized, I had little or no information about my new status as a jinn. I knew who was and who I had been. I mean... this jinnhood of mine didn't go fiddle-fucking around with my prior memory or anything. As far as I can tell: my memory is still intact.
"Would you believe that as incredulous as it must surly sound, I retained my awareness all throughout the process. I knew - instinctively - that the lamp had been the prime mover in the whole affair. I knew that it had somehow turned my body into a friggin' swirling metaphysical atomized vortex. And even when I existed in the form of that swirling metaphysical atomized vortex, I was aware of the fact that I was being sucked down into lamp's innards. And though it defies my ability to accurately articulate, once my atomized ethereal essence was within the lamp, I became keenly aware that something extraordinary was occurring... that I was undergoing so sort of monumental change... that I was becoming part of a larger... or, I guess you could say... more powerful being...
"But that - in a nut shell - is about it, Ann. Logic... had I been thinking clearly... which it's rather evident and easy to understand why I wasn't... given all the fantastic and incomprehensible shit that was going on inside of there...", Gene, gesturing, in an off-handed manner, towards the lamp that his wife still clutched, continued in a halting fashion, "...would have told me that I was being transformed into a wish- granting jinn of a genie.
"However, even if I had had the presence of mind to figure out what was happening to me... y'know, during the initial elemental assimilation process... y'know, that up and turned me into a fully functioning, wish-fulfilling jinn... I wasn't aware that the lamp was also fiddle-fucking around with my sexual affiliation as well."
"You mean...", Ann was incredulous, "...that you weren't aware that you were being turned into a woman?"
"No! Not while I was in there.", Gene, gesturing toward the lamp again. "The first indication I had that something was amiss... that my body had undergone a full blown... knock down... dragged out... no holds bar transsexualization... was when I materialized... or... I probably should have been more accurate and said... shortly thereafter... y'know, like when I... in my discombobulated state... became aware that I was decked out something other than the clothes I had been wearing... y'know, when I got sucked inside of the lamp...
"Well anyhow, Mmmm... - Ann! Once I realized that I wasn't wearing what I knew I had been wearing, I did what any non- jinnified person would have done in a similar set of circumstances! Y'know, as in I endeavored to see just what in the hell I was wearing!
"Okay! So I look down... y'know, to scope myself out... and I find that my view is all but blocked off by these two, rather hefty, semi-satin encased mounds of flesh... that... I couldn't help but thinking... would have looked just dandy on another woman!
"Then it hit me! Those fleshy, semi-satin encased, nipple surmounted, chest protrusions were none other than my own fleshy, semi-satin encased, nipple surmounted chest protrusions!
"In other words, Mmmm... - Ann... to my sheer and utter dismay, I came to the sad and awful contemplation that I had somehow become the other woman. A quick, rather frenzied hand thrust to this newly re-vamped crotch of mine, proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt."
"Oh!,", Ann interjected with a restrained, but noticeable inflexion of glee evident in her voice. "That explains why you were playing that frantic game of grab-ass with yourself!"
"Well...", Ann countered thoughtfully. "That's all well and good, Gene... and I know that it had to be extremely unnerving and unsettling to find yourself decked out in a body of the opposite sex... but what - pray tell - does all this have to do with those multiple-image producing seizures that I asked you about?"
"Patience, Mmmm... - Ann! I getting to 'em!
Gene, continuing, "You see Ann, your summons sort of preempted the jinnification process in... shall we say... mid stream. Now, while the essence unification and sexual re- classification aspects were a done deal of a feat accompli, I had yet to be brought up to snuff of all the 'in's and out's' of this genie business. In other words, I was still unaware of all the particulars... y'know, like in the 'do's and don't's' and the 'where as's and what for's'.
"So... when you ask me a question that I don't know the answer to, the lamp kicks in; takes me off-line - so to speak - and fills me in on what I need to answer your question."
"You mean...", Ann, seeking clarification, asked, "...it work's something like a computer program that has to pause and access its' hard drive to procure some required information?"
"Yes, Mmmm... - Ann! That's an apt analogy of how it works!
"Eventually, the lamp will bring me up to snuff on everything I need to know to function as a jinn and I won't experiences those so called multiple-image overlay-like seizures of yours. In fact... even now... as we speak... I becoming privy to more and more pertinent information. Soon, I will be fully appraised and conditioned."
"Does that mean that you'll soon become a whole hell of a lot more comfortable with that new body of yours than you are now?"
"No, Ann. I don't believe that I will. You see... the magic-using artisans who prepared this lamp probably, but not necessarily, planned on employing a female - be that female: salve, captive or willing participant - for the human component of the jinn equation, due to the persnickety fact that there seems to be no onboard magical sub-routines to re-sexualize this manly mind of mine. Now, while it's entirely within the realm of possibility for them to have used a man... y'know, instead of a woman... they sure as shit didn't give a rat's ass about converting his sexual orientation to that of a woman. Had they employed a man, it was probably done as a form of punishment... y'know, that would sentence the poor unfortunate bastard to spend the rest of eternity incarcerated within a body that is in totally and abject disharmony with his mind. However... now that I think about... there has to be some sort of onboard magical sub-routine that addresses manly mannerisms; for - I do believe - I seem to have lost all of that overtly mannish awkwardness that I initially exhibited upon materializing in this scandalously clad and amply endowed bod of a most bodacious body that I've been so ignominiously and underhandedly fitted out in.
"I mean... to my way of thinking... I seem to be a whole hell of a lot more graceful than I was but a few short moments ago!"
"Yes...", Ann concurred. "I believe you're right on the money about that, Gene. You definitely are a whole lot more graceful than you were at first. Now, if you could just stop yourself from alternating between a crass game of grab-ass and a very unlady-like pastime of titty-tweak, I'd have to say: that you're demurrer would be about as gracefully feminine as graceful feminine could ever hope to possible be.
"Say...", Ann continued on. "I've got an idea!
"Since you say that wishing you back into former manly self isn't a viable option... maybe... if your not averse to the idea, Gene... I could make a wish that would - in essence - alter your mind's sexual orientation..."
"You mean...", Gene sought clarification. "Mmmm... - Ann! Are you suggesting that you could make a wish that would - in effect - completely girlify me?"
"Yes! I mean... wouldn't it be easier for you if your mind was in sexual sync with your body, Gene?"
"Yes, Mmmm... - Ann! It would. But let's not be hasty! Before you make such a wish - Please! I implore you! Let's consider all the ramifications first!
"I mean... while I'm not exactly ecstatic about the current situation... what with me and this new bod of body of mine... being male... if it's only in my mind... is all that I have of my former life! And, since it is, as crazy as it might sound, Ann, I'd kind of like to hold onto that part of my life for as long as possible.
"Besides... Mmmm - Ann! I don't think a wish like that is going to work anyhow. You see, though I have yet to be... shall we say... apprised of all the myriad details involved with that sort of thing... it appears that while you can dicker around with my appearance to your heart's content... deck me out in any apparel that suits you fancy... there's seems to be a whole caboodle of constraints and admonitions against you doing something of that nature.
"In other words, Mmmm... - Ann... while you can... I guess you say... optimize my appearance... as long as it remains thoroughly and exquisitely female... as much as you want... the magic-user artisans who preconditioned this lamp of mine... didn't want anyone fooling around with its' baseline programing.
"Well...", Ann began dismissive, "Maybe... if we both put our minds to it... we can come up with something that'll help to either eradicate or, at least ease, that sexual identity dilemma of your's, Gene.
"Yeah... Maybe... ", Gene, shrugging his fully exposed shoulders in a manner that was very reminiscent of his former manly self, despondently replied. "Though I'm not going to hold out any get hope that we'll succeed. Maybe... just maybe... you and I can come up with something... At least, we can try..."
Just then, on what might be termed a subliminal level, Ann became keenly aware of two things. With an 'Oh, my God!' resounding in her mind, Ann Renyolds came to the irrefutable realization that the fully feminized, little harem-clad platinum blonde bombshell's mannerism where - beyond the shadow of a doubt - those of her husband's. And two, following closely on the heels of the first: that her husband's characteristic, though thoroughly herified mannerisms, spoke clearly to the fact that he - as a fully embodied she - was becoming increasing agitated.
'Shit!', Ann thought. 'This girllie-whirllie shit is really getting to him! I've got to do something! And I've to do it fast! Else wise, he's going to blow his cool and flip-out on me! And, I'm afraid, that won't do either one of us any good!'
"Gene!", Ann, endeavoring to change the direction of their conversation and therefore get his mind off of his sexual ambiguity, resumed brightly. "How about we try a wish?"
Gene, according his herified self in very genie-like manner, folded his muscular denuded arms beneath the twins mounds of his semi-satin showcased secondary sexual apparatus and succinctly responded, "Yes, Mmmm... - Ann!".
"Can we try a small wish? Y'know, just so I can get a handle on how this wish thing works?"
"Yes, Mmmm... - Ann! Your wish is my command!"
Stumped for a moment as to what - exactly - she should wish for, Ann aimless glanced around the kitchen, desperately searching for something simple to wish for. Then, as her gaze, returned to the beguiling, though clearly distraught figure of her harem girl clad husband, a quirky and mildly sadistic notion came upon her.
Thinking that, 'What was good for the gander, was good for the goose... and vice versa', and with a distinctly impish inflection resonating clearly in her voice, Ann Renyolds began the preamble to her first wish.
"Those golden hued, curly toed, Persian slippers that you more or less came pre-packaged in, Gene, are simply adorable. And they look to me to be quite comfortable...
"Are they, Gene? Are they as comfortable as they appear to be?"
Gene, having first glanced down to check out the flat soled slippers he - as a she - was decked out in for his herified self, stated somewhat bemused and bewilderedly, "Yes. Though I hadn't paid 'em any notice before... now that you mention it, Ann... yes... they are quite comfortable."
"Good!", Ann continued with some humor lacing her voice, "I'm glad to hear that, Gene."
"Why?", Ann's comment had begged Gene's query.
"Because... oh, husband of mine... ever since I've known you... you've been on me to wear high heels. Leg flattering, toe scrunching, stiletto heeled pumps...
"Well... now that you're a woman...
"Ann!", Gene, barging in on his wife' unfinished statement, pleadingly intoned. "Ann! You're not proposing what I think you're proposing?"
"I most certainly am!", Ann remained resolute.
"For my first wish, I wish for those Persian slippers of yours to be replaced... or changed into... or whatever you have to do... to fit yourself out in a pair of your classic, high heeled pumps!"
"Heel size?", though it grated on him to be forced into doing such, Gene heard his herified self asking for his wife's clarification.
"Hmmm... four inches - I think - should suffice."
"Gold... Metallic gold!"
"Open toed or closed toe?"
"Close toed. Y'know, the kind of pumps I'm talking about, Gene! Y'know, the kind that you like to refer to as dick-teaser specials... the very same kind that you like to seeing me prancing around in!"
"No... that should do the trick!", Ann chuckled
And it was done. Without flash or fanfare, the Persian slippers that Gene's feminine form was initially decked out in, instantaneously became a pair of shimmering metallic, golden hued, stiletto heeled, leg enhancing, fuck-the-living-shit-out- of-me pumps, causing Gene's elfin-like stature to gain a fully four inches of height in the process.
"Wow!", Ann exclaimed. "That was neat! Really, really neat! And you managed it without a head bob... or a nose scrunching... or a hand flourish... or anything!
"Okay! Let's try something else!
"Okay! I know!
"Gene... since both you and I prefer silver over gold, how 'bout you change everything your wearing that's gold into silver."
"Gene... what's wrong?", Ann, perplexed, questioned. "Is that it? Do I only get one wish and I've used that one wish of mine up turning those Persian slippers of your's into a pair of high heeled pumps? I mean... I thought you said that I get as many wishes as I want!"
"You do, Ann. However, you have to phrase your request in the formalized wording of a wish."
"Oh! Okay! I can do that!
"I wish that everything that your wearing that is of a golden cast be changed into a dazzling silver hue."
"Granted.", Gene's honey sweet voice resonated with the obligatory reply of a magic wielding jinn.
And, once again, without any noticeable effort on Gene's part, the deed was done. Everything that Ann's jinnified husband had been so fetchingly decked out in that was of a golden coloration, became, in the twinkling of an instant, a most becoming and scintillating silver.
"Yes! I like that!", Ann commented. "The blue and silver color combination seems to suits you a whole lot better than the blue and gold one did.
"Now, what do I wish for next?", Ann mused. "World peace? The eradication of all diseases? An end to poverty?"
"Sorry, Mmmm... - Ann!", Gene's sultry voice chimed in. "No can do! Your wishes cannot be of such a grandiose nature. They can only effect you, or in certain cases, people or things that you either associate with or are in close proximity to...
"For explain, while I am fully capable of changing... shall we say... the Statue of Liberty into a small figurine... y'know, that you could easily pick up and carry around in either your pocket or your purse, I am not allowed to do it from here... even though I'm fully capable of doing it from here. However, if you and I were there - y'know, visiting the Statue of Liberty, and you... for some nonsensical reason... made such a wish, then it would be a whole other ball game.
"Or...", Gene continued, "Let's say that you were at some restaurant... enjoying a really nice dinner... and that there's this thoroughly obnoxious fellow seated at the next table over from yours... and he is giving everybody... including his date... a hard way to go... creating a who lot of unnecessary tension in the process... and you up and decided that you've had enough and that you are going to do something somewhat Twilight Zoneish about it.
"Okay. Having come to a decision to do something about Mr. Obnoxious, you summon me forth and direct me to... to... to..."
"Turn him into a thumb sucking infant!", Ann suggested in a most conspiratorially manner.
"Alright! So you make this wish that will have me turn Mr. Obnoxious into a thumb sucking infant."
"I can actually have you do something like that? I can actually direct you - via a wish - to change a fully grown person into a baby?", Ann, chuckling, sought clarification.
"Yes. Should you elected to have me do something of that nature, be advised, Ann, that it is fully within the purview of my jinnhood's operational parameters.
"Oh! Well... that puts this wishing business in a totally different light!", Ann gleefully replied. "I do believe that this wishing business might turn out to be a whole lot of fun!"
Then, after a prolonged moment of thought filled silence, Ann took up where she had left off.
"Okay! So, I can't play Little Ms. Humanitarian and right all the wrongs of this world..."
"No, Mmmm... - Ann! That sort of thing isn't allowed."
"But I can... I guess you could say... indulge myself."
"Yes, Mmmm... - Ann! That is what my lamp was primarily designed for. Self indulgence."
"You know something, Gene? It isn't fair!"
"What isn't fair?"
"That bodacious, built like a brick shithouse of a body of yours!
"I mean... here I've been a female all of my life and do I have a body like that?
"No, Gene! I most certainly do not!
"But I will!", Ann said coyly. "I most surly will...
"Gene, for my next wish, I want you to re-sculpture this body of mine! I want you to make it almost... but not quite... a carbon copy of the one that the lamp fitted you out with! I want to be just as stunningly gorgeous as you are! But... I want to retain... what you might call... a semblance of my former self!
"In other words, Gene... I want people to still be able recognize me as Ann Renyolds!
"Is what I'm asking possible? Can you do something like that?"
"Yes. What you request, Mmmm... - Ann, is easily achieved."
"Alright then, that is my wish! Make me gorgeous!"
And it was. The pert, perky and formerly handsomely pretty Ann Renyolds became the drop dead gorgeous rendition of her former self.
Then, unable to adequately inspect the full blown effect of the physical enhancements that her femmified, jinnified and harem-clad husband had dutifully wrought upon her, Ann, anxious as all get-out to scope out her magically re-formatted self, wished for and receive a free-standing, full length, oaken framed, dressing mirror. Having done so, one quick, almost frantic glance in the mirror was enough to appraise Ann of the fact that the baggy jeans, her husband's overlarge sweatshirt and grass stained tennis shoes that she was wearing greatly inhibited her ability to adequately peruse and admire her newly re- configured body. If she was going to indulge her sense of raging and eager curiosity, they had to go.
"Gene!", she snapped.
"Yes, Mmmm... - Ann!"
"We need to do something about these clothes I'm wearing! Y'know, so I can get a better idea of what this new body of mine looks like!
"So... my wish is for you to use that vivid imagination of your's and deck me out in something that's straight out of a Fredrick's of Hollywood's Catalog! Something slinky! Something sexy! Something that's... as they say... sure to tease! Y'know, Gene... one of those dick-teaser specials that you... when you think I'm not aware of what's going on... like to lewd and lasciviously gawk at!"
Ann's jeans, sweatshirt and sneakers were gone, replaced by a low cut, form fitting, endowment showcasing, wisp of a scintillating, male libido torquing, lustrous, black hued, fellows-feast-your-ever-lovin'-eyes-on-me, lycra/spandex, sock- it-to me, cocktail dress; a pair of leg flattering, chocolate brown, pantyhose and a pair of your damn near obligatory, black patent leather, stiletto heeled pumps.
"This is terrific! Absolutely terrific!", Ann delightfully exclaimed as she incredulously feasted her eyes upon the mirror and the image that was so resplendently displayed upon its' silverized surface. "I don't know how you did it, Gene! But you did it! And you did it good!
"I mean... I'm me! Albeit, an extremely enhanced me!
"I mean... there's absolutely no doubt at all about that! And no one who knows me is going to mistake me for anybody else but me!
"I mean...", Ann beamed as she continued to admire her magical made-over and decked out to the hilt self, "While I might have been considered a solid shoe-in for a seven... falling somewhere in between being one of your run of the mill, Plain Jane, girl next door types and being classified as on the lower cusp of being thought of as actually pretty... you've gone turned me into a glamor girl to end all glamor girls, Gene! I mean... if I do say so myself... and I do... while this outfit you've decked me out in is about as scandalous as scandalous can be... making me look like some sort of high classed, Washington based hooker... I've got to admit that I'm beautiful! Absolutely... no holds bar... stunningly beautiful!
"My breast...", Ann declared gleefully, as her hands reached up and, after a quick reassuring squeeze or two to ensure herself that they were indeed the genuine articles and not, some sort of silicon facsimile there of, she proceed on to cradled those magically enhanced endowments of her's and proudly presented them for not only her own inspection, but her jinnified husband's as well. "Look at 'em, Gene! They're fantastic! Not to large... yet not to small either! I love 'em! I absolutely love 'em!
"I mean... all my life I've dreamed of having breast like these..."
"Yeah...", Gene, gravely dishearten, concurred. "I use to fantasize about you having a set just like those as well... Unfortunately... now that I gone and gotten myself all jinnified... I'm sporting a pair just like 'em!"
Ann, thinking that the best way to handle her husband's most unfortunate and demoralizing situation was to just ignore his snide and disparaging remarks, proceeded on to ponder her next wish.
"Okay! Now that we've taken care of my figure, let's tackle this hair of mine.
"First off, Gene... since you seem to have cornered the platinum blonde franchise... and since I really don't want to look exactly like you do... I wish that this mousy hair of mine was a lustrous, strawberry blonde."
Ann's hair went from being a dirty blonde to a rich, shimmering, strawberry blonde.
"Okay! That's good for starters! Now, I wish my hair had a whole lot more body and just a hint of curl around the edges."
Ann face was immediately framed in a most flattering, covergirl-like cascade of the most stylish, honey golden tresses imaginable.
"Yes! It's perfect! It's almost as if you had read my mind, Gene!"
"To a degree, I did."
"You can do that? Really? You can actually read my mind?"
"In a sense, yes.", Gene replied matter-o'-factly.
"Okay...", Ann countered skeptically, "If you can read my mind, tell me! What am I thinking about now?"
"The impressions I get suggest that you're thinking that you're not to keen on the notion that I can, in a manner of speaking, read your mind...
"Now, your thinking that you might make a wish to prevent me from reading your mind...
"But, you can't do that, Mmmm... - Ann."
"And just why can't I?", Ann tersely demanded.
"Because, I would be unable to grant such a wish."
"Because,", Gene replied, "To do so would be an encroachment on my ability to function as a jinn and that, I'm sad to say, cannot... nor, will not be tolerated.
"Oh...", Ann was a little taken aback by the revelation. "Then do me a favor, Gene."
"If I can... Mmmm... - Ann."
"Even if you can read my mind and find yourself compelled to continue to do so... please... in the future... don't tell me about. Y'know... because... though I'd much rather that you didn't... y'know, read my mind... I'd really rather not know about it when you do. Alright?"
Feigning ire, Ann quipped, "Hey! We talked about this 'mistress' crappolla before! I want it stopped and I want it stopped now!
"Look! If I have to, I'll phrase it in the form of a wish, if that'll help!"
"Couldn't hurt, Mmmm... - Ann."
"Alright, then! I wish that you would never - ever - address me as 'mistress' again, Gene! Furthermore, I wish that you would call me Ann... or... for that matter... anyone of those endearments that you use to use... y'know, when you were a man!"
"Okay!", Ann was on a roll. "While we're at it, I want to make something perfectly clear. Though you might have the same sort of sexual equipment that I have now, Gene... I still consider you my husband and myself, your wife... and that ain't going to change!
"In fact... to insure that it won't... I going to make another wish!
"Ann! I wouldn't... ", Gene, his honey sweeten voice registering a degree of panic, endeavored to interject a note of caution.
But his wife, as determined as she was, was having none of it. Nothing - not even her jinnified husband's attempted intervention - was going to discourage her from making the wish she had in mind.
"I wish that the vows we exchanged on our wedding day... the ones you and I wrote together... would bind us together as a couple even more today than they did then! Furthermore, even if this next wish of my mine ends up turning me into a friggin' girl-loving lesbian, I wish for our love to be as fresh... as sincere... and as passionate the day we first fell in love with one another!"
And in that very same instant, Ann knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that her wish had caused something incredible, and quit possible, she realized just a tad bit to late, horrendous to occurred. A lustful and ardent desire, born out what she only later describe as a primordial carnal craving, overwhelmed her. She wanted to something - though she didn't have any notion as to what that something was - to appease her amorous, Gene-targeted, desires. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that she loved her femmed out to the friggin' max of a jinnified husband with ever fiber and nuance of her being. In every way imaginable. Not only did she love him - as a her - platonically, as the dearest and deepest of truest and trusted friends, but also, in a very mind boggling, mind blowing, convoluted and quite confusing, in not repugnant, physical sense as well. Furthermore, given the implicate wording of wish she had made, Gene, she knew, loved her as much and in the same sort of confusing and convoluted manner that she loved him.
"Gene!", Ann, caught in throws of impassioned, love induced bewilderment, exclaimed as she took a tentative, halting, stutter-step toward her harem-clad femme fatale of a jinnified husband, "I think I may have goofed big time! I'm not sure that that last wish of mine was such a good idea!
"I... I... I...", she stammered, groping for a way to express, what to her was: the inexpressible.
"I know, honey!", Gene returned sympathetically, as he, as the supple she that the lamp had turned him into, took a hesitant, compassion induced step in his wife direction. "There's no need for you to say anything! I fully understand! I'm dealing with the very same sort of emotions that you are! And they are - to be blunt about it - some really heavy-handed humdingers!
"I mean... pardon my French... but I'm so friggin' horny right now, Ann, that the only thing I can think of doing is: to rush over there; whisk you off your feet; carry you into our bedroom and there, after I kiss you up one side and down the other... with a little of that middle ground, squirm and scream inducing, crevasse-crease, tongue-tweaking, cunnilingus shit thrown in there... y'know, just for my fun and your pleasure of it... what I'd like to do... were I still physically equipped to do so... which... regrettable I'm not... given the fact that I'm as much of woman as you are... is to hump that pert and perky ass of your's off!"
"Oh, Gene!", Ann compassionately whimpered, as she involuntary found herself taking yet another - hesitant - fumbling stutter-step towards the forlorn figure of her ultra feminized, amply endowed, harem girl clad husband.
And it was at that point that the proverbial damn broke. One halting, stutter-step lead to another, until they found themselves overpowered by the crescendo of their shared and overtly frayed and frazzled emotions. In the heat of the moment, they found themselves unable to do anything other than to rush madly into the consoling, albeit chaste, embrace of one other.
Finally, after Ann found the emotional where-with-all to proceed, and taking the utmost care to maintain the intimacy of their embrace, Ann dew her head and the uppermost portion of her torso back ever so slightly, so as to affixed her emerald eyes on her husband's sapphire orbs and, endeavoring to stifle her tearfully sniffles, tentatively suggested, "Gene
In a tone that, as far as Ann was concerned, seemed to hold a slight hint of reluctance, Gene, in a very genie-like manner, replied, "You may.. of course... elect to do such, Ann.
"The decision is not mine to make, Ann.", the reluctance was there. Ann was sure of it. "It's your's."
"Bullshit!", Ann, her ire evident, countered most uncharacteristically. "I'll be damned if I'm going to make this decision on my own! I asked for your opinion, Gene! And I going to get it! Even if I have to concoct some sort of wish to force you to give it to me!
"Alright...", the resignation registering clearly in Gene's sultry feminine voice. "So be it! No wish will be necessary! You want my opinion! You'll get my opinion!
"I'm not sure what I want you to do, Ann. Part of me... the logical part of me... the part that drives you absolutely bonkers most of the friggin' time... tends to believe that it would probably be best... for the both of us... if you would just go ahead and make that wish...
"After all, Ann... now that you possess the lamp... what do you need me for... other than to serve you as its' most obedient jinn.
"I mean... one wish and you can have any man... or, as many men as you what. You don't need me."
"But I want you, Gene!", Ann passionately intoned. "I need you! You're my husband!"
"No, Ann! I use to be your husband... The lamp changed that along with this body of mine! Now, as loathed as I am to admit this, I've become the jinn of the lamp... and a bodacious femme fatale of a jinn at that. I live only to serve my master's... or... as the fates would have it, my mistress' every whim.
"Gene!", Ann pleaded. "Don't you ever! Ever! Say such damn fool nonsense again!
"As far as I'm concerned, Gene... even if the sexual aspect of our relationship is over... you... even though your body belies the fact... are still very much my husband! And that's the be all and end all of it! Case closed! And I don't want to ever hear you saying that you aren't! Alright?"
"Yes...", Gene resignedly returned.
"Now, Gene... out with it! I want to know exactly how you feel about that last wish of mine! I want your input! Should I make a wish to rescind it? Amend it? Or... should we let it stand as is and try to make the best of it?"
"Well... if you really... truly... want to hear what I have to say, Ann..."
"I most certainly do, Gene!", Ann was adamant.
"You should know that as far as that last wish of your's is concerned, Ann... while it seemed to focused the feelings of love I already have for you... y'know, intensifying them to nth degree... in no way, shape or form... where those feelings augmented or, for that matter, increased.
"I mean... even though you might not want to hear this, Ann... my horniness was already in overdrive long before you ever made that wish."
"Yes, Ann... it was."
"Well... for starters... there's this new body of mine!
"I mean... even though it pisses me off to no end to be decked out in it... there's another part of me - I guess you could call it the brazen hussy/dirty old man part of me - that's turned on by it!
"I mean... this new body of mine is so friggin' sensitive that no matter what I do... or how I move... I end up with these - What do you call 'em? - sexual shivers... y'know, that are doing a real number on me!
"I mean... though I hate to admit this... even to you, Ann... my crotch is soaked! I mean to tell you! I'm so friggin' horny and turned-on that this new pussy of mine is leaking love- juices like a sieve!"
"And then... what do you do, Ann? You go and command me to turn you into a beauty queen to end all beauty queens... y'know, that's close... but not quite... a carbon copy of my own built like a brick shithouse of a body! Then... to make matters worse... what do you have me do? You direct me to deck that seductively re-sculpture bod of a body of yours out in an outfit that's... and I quoting you verbatim hear... '...straight out of a Fredrick's of Hollywood's Catalog. Something slinky. Something sexy. Something... as they say... sure to tease.' In fact, Ann... if my memory serves me right... you referred to the outfit as one of my dick-teaser specials.
"And you know what seeing you decked-out in a sexy outfit does to this aspiring, dirty old man's libido of mine, don't you, Ann?"
"Yes,", Ann found herself chuckling, "I most certainly do! It really turns you on!"
"Turns me on, Ann!", Gene quipped. "Hell! More times than not, I end up with a friggin' hard-on!
"Trouble is... now that I got this body... I've got no outty of an 'on' to get hard!
"I mean... while the mind is more than willing... it isn't that the flesh is weak! It's that it's totally inadequate!"
Oh, Gene! My poor... poor, Gene!", Ann replied sympathetically. "As hard as this mess is for me deal with... what you must be going through...", she tried her are darndest to commiserate, knowing that she could never, ever begin to understand what her jinnified husband was enduring.
Then, completely oblivious to the repercussions of what she was about to say, Ann, spurred on by her wealth of emphatic feelings towards Gene's rather unsavory predicament, up and went and mis-spoke herself. Big time.
"I just wish... if only for a few minutes or so... that I knew exactly what you are going through, Gene... exactly what your feeling..."
And in that moment, Ann Renyolds was plunged head-long into the companion Realms of Chaos and Calamity. Instantaneously, her mind did a sexual identity double-take, going from totally and unequivocally female to totally and unequivocally male. She felt a keen, unnerving and abysmal sense of pure, unadulterated physical disharmony. Her own body became an enigma to her. The very notion that she had both primary and secondary female attributes, namely: female breast protrusions and a woman's set of privates, repulsed her to no end, while at the very same instant in time, titillated the living shit out her re-sexualized libido. In her state of sexual disorientation and abject depression, she knew fear. She knew desperation. She knew a convoluted sense of self-loathing. And yet, within that swirling whirligig of divergent and at times, contradictory emotions, Ann - a very masculine minded Ann - soared on a billowing sense of unrestrained exhilaration.
Through it require every ounce of willpower that she could muster, Ann managed, by hook or by crook, to acquire a very tentative and extremely fragile handle on her frenzied and frazzled perceptions. Doing so, Ann became cognizant of the fact that, as sexually discombobulated as she was, she was not only horny as all get-out, but that's Gene's intimate proximity to her, not to mention, the drop-dead gorgeous, built like a brick shithouse bod of a body that he was so beguilingly dished out in, was - 'God forbid!' - doing a real number on that horniness of her's; driving it, by leaps and bounds, ever upwards.
'Oh, my God!', the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. 'This is crazy! Absolutely crazy! I can't belive it! I want to screw my husband! I want to rip that harem girl outfit off of him and ravish him! I want to take him - as the her that he has become - and hump the living shit of him... or her... or whatever he's become! Right here! Right now! This is ludicrous! I mean... I want to take my dick - A dick I don't even have! - and shove it deep up inside the satinized well of that new little pussy of his... I want to fondle his tits! I want to suck 'em! Lick 'em till he screams and squirms! Shit! I want to go down on him! Spread those lusciously formed thighs of his and eat him out! Take my tongue and tweak the living shit out of that little love knob of a clit of his... till he gushes with orgasms! One orgasm after another...'
And then, as abruptly as it had come upon her, it was over. Ann's wish-specified 'few moments' had run their course and she automatically reverted to her normal - thoroughly and unquestionable female - mind set.
"Oh, Gene!", Ann wailed, as she once again smuggled her femme fatale of a jinnified husband into a most passionate, though thoroughly chaste, empathic embrace. "I had no idea! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! What can I do to help to alleviate what you are going through? Tell me! Quickly! Then I can make into a wish and wish it away!"
"Sorry, Ann! No can do! While I really, truly appreciate the offer, you can't wish what I'm going through away. Neither my lamp nor this new elemental portion of my jinnified make-up will allow that sort of tampering. Therefore, I am left with no recourse but to endure. Besides, Ann... as illogical as this must surly sound... especially so since you now know the full extent of what I am going through... y'know, with me being a girl.. who still thinks of herself as a man... who still possess a very healthy... very active... and somewhat warped and perverted, lewd and crude, lecherously leaning male libido... y'know, that's ranks right up there in... what you might call... where you being just a tad bit sarcastic... the presidential range... the plain and simple truth of the matter is: I am still deeply... thoroughly... and hopelessly in love with you, Ann! And I don't want anyone - Even you! - tampering with that!
"And if that means that I'm going to feel the way I do now... for the rest of eternity... as discombobulating and as disconcerting as it is for me to endure... then, so be it!
At a loss as to how to reply, a freely sobbing and teary eyed Ann Renyolds, reluctantly broke the embrace the two of them had been enfolded within. However, as she did so, she reached down with both hands and, taking Gene's now dainty, long nailed and meticulously manicured hands in her own, took half a step backwards, and silently appraised her harem girl clad and ultra femininely ensconced husband.
With a tearful sense of resignation conveyed clearly in her speech patterns, Ann forced a little pouting, half-heart smile - a smile she in no way felt - to brighten her countenance as she posed the almost obligatory question, "So... where does that leaves us, Gene?"
"Back at the question you raised about that wish of your's... y'know, the one directly revolving around our wedding vows... and how our vows were to bind us together as a couple even more today than they did when you and I first exchanged them."
"Right.", Ann concurred, before going on to say, "Well... should I... or shouldn't?"
"Should you or shouldn't you what, honey?"
"Should I... or shouldn't I rescind... or... possibly... amend that wish... y'know, given the intensity of what we're both feeling?"
"Well...", Gene began tentatively, "You know how I feel about it, Ann."
"No, Gene! I don't! I only know part of it! The logically part! Before you could tell me the rest of it, we got off on a tangent and I went and made that bonehead wish of mine... y'know, the one that went and fitted me out with a friggin' mental penis and a over testosteroned male libido to boot! Or... more precisely... your mental penis and your over testosteroned male libido !"
As Ann's crassly sounding metaphor brought a smile to Gene's elfin like visage, he found his herified self chuckling all through out his reply, "Oh yeah...
"No, dear. You didn't."
"Oh! Alright then... I'll attend to that now. However, before I do, Ann... before I forget... let me just take a quick second or so and say something that I really believe needs to be said. Alright?"
"Sure, Gene. Be my guest."
"That last wish of your's... the one that lent you an insight into this rather convoluted new life of mine... was a real bonehead thing to do! Ann! Before you do something like that again... Please! I implore you! Do yourself a favor! Engage that grey matter of your's and think! Remember, Ann, now that you are in possession of that lamp of mine, your wishes have repercussions! Alright?"
Feeling properly admonished, Ann contritely replied, "Yes, dear... I was wrong. I'm sorry. And I will make every effort not to do something like that again."
"Good. Nuff said!
"Now... as to my other feelings - the illogical ones - concerning what you should or should not do about that wedding vow binding wish of your's... after that other wish of your's... the ill conceived, bonehead one... the one that had you walking a proverbial mile in these friggin' stiletto heels of mine... y'know, the very same heels that you very sadistically went and decked me out in... I shouldn't have to tell you how I feel! You should know!"
"Yes, Gene. You're right! Given that unnerving, gut wrenching, mind blowing experience that I just now went through, I should know exactly how you feel! And, I believe I do! However... be that as it may be... just for my own piece of mind... just so I'm not making any incorrect assumptions... I'd really like to it hear from your own lips. In your own words. Alright?"
"Yeah... Sure... By all means, Ann... if you think it's necessary... I'd be more than happy to tell you the other side of how I feel about this whole convoluted vow issue thing-of-a-ma- jig.
"Logically... as I have already told you, Ann... I think you should cut your losses... forget about me... and get on with your life..."
"Gene!", Ann, not liking any nuance of what she was hearing, angrily and agitatedly attempted to break in on her husband and lodge yet another complaint.
"Wait, Ann! I'm not finished! Please! I implore you! Hear me out!
"Now... as to the illogical side of the issue... I'd have to say... that when push comes to shove, Ann... no matter how much grief it'll cause in the long run... no matter how much of a pain in the royal tush it'll be to have to contend with... given the way I still feel about you... given how much I still love you, Ann... rational or not... given my druthers... I'd rather you just let things stand as they are now!"
"Am I hearing you right, Gene? Are you saying that you don't want me to rescind that wish of mine? That you want our vows to remain intact?"
"Yes, Ann... as selfish as it must surely sound... that's exactly what I'm saying! While I may have lost both my manhood and my freedom becoming the lamp's femme fatale of a pussy equipped jinn... there's one thing I don't want to lose and that's you, Ann! I love you! Always have! Always will! And there's no wish that you can make that'll make this love of mine go away, Ann! Regardless of what you decided to do in the end, I'm stuck! I can't change a blessed thing! And... if I could... I wouldn't! Y'know... because... as with this manly motivated mind of mine... my love for you is something that I cherish!
"However... regardless of all of that, Ann... when push comes to shove... I'm not in a position to make the decision! You are!
"So... what you need to do, Ann... is to put my feelings aside and do what's best for you! Remember, there's not a damn thing you can do to change my feelings for you! But, you can do something about your feelings for me! One wish... one little wish... and you can simply eradicate them. Poof! They're gone! And then, you can get on with your life!
"Hell, Ann! Should it bother you to know that I - your pert, perky and pretty little femmed out to the friggin' max of a jinn - used to be your husband, guess what! Another wish will take care of that in one fell swoop! You can simply erase that persnickety little fact from your memory! Then, Ann... once freed of that... shall we say... fly in the old ointment... you can get on with your life!
"And what a life it can be, Ann! With my lamp, you can have anything your light heart desires! Go anywhere you want to go! Be anything you want to be! You can be rich! You can be famous!"
"Stop it, Gene!", Ann was furious. Absolutely furious. "Just stop it! I've heard enough of that rubbish to last me a friggin' lifetime! And I don't want to hear any more of it! Ever! Is that clear? Or do I have make a wish to make it clear? Y'know... because I will if I have to, Gene!"
Knowing that he - as the supple and seductive she that he had become - had been severely castigated, Gene cut his losses and contritely reply, "Alright, dear! I promise, I will never - ever - bring it up again!"
"Good!", Ann's tone signified the fact that she was still vexed, "See that you don't!
"Now...", Ann, having taken a couple of deep breaths to assuage her ire, began afresh, "As to my feelings...
"While I fully appreciate the logical side of your arguments, Gene... and agree that the easiest thing to do would be to go on from here... I can't!
"I don't know why... maybe it's my conservative Catholic upbringing... but those vows of ours' mean something to me and I can't bring myself to disregarding them, Gene!
"And then there's the other thing..."
Confused, Gene sought clarification, "What other thing, hon?"
"Gene...", Ann, prefacing her remarks, "I know how absurd this is going to sound... especially now with you being a girl and all... but I still love you too! And I'm not talking in a purely platonic way either, Gene! Even before I went and walked that proverbial mile in those stiletto heeled dick-teaser specials of yours... I was... shall we say... sexually intrigued!
"Not horny! Not turned-on! But... in a kinky, kookie sort of way, intrigued.
"I mean... and please don't misinterpret what I'm trying to say here, Gene! Even though I'm still a far cry from being a full blown, girl-loving lesbian! I have to admit that... if I could ever get beyond the repugnancy of the act itself... it might be a real hoot to turn the tables on you! I mean... there's a small part of me... a very small... to be almost infinitesimal... part of me... that could really enjoy giving that new little nub of a fancy of yours a proper tongue lashing and there by, introduce you to the fascinating world of female orgasms. I mean... if I could ever bring myself to engaging in that icky sort of lesbian love making shit, I bet you dollars to doughnuts that I could turn you into a first class pillow eater! Y'know... as in: I could make you really scream and squirm.
"Gene...", Ann voice became thoughtful.
"I'm not saying that I really want to go this route. But... let's say... just for the kicks and giggles of it... that someday I get this hankering to explore the world of female homosexuality... y'know, so that you and I can engage in some bedroom based hanky-panky... y'know, just to see what it's like... could you turn me into a lesbian... y'know, just for just one day... or, one night... or, for a couple of hours or so... y'know, just to see how things go..."
"Yes, Ann. That is well within the realm of possibility. Should you wish it, I could turn you into a lesbian for any length of time you might specify. Furthermore, once you return to being a heterosexual again, I can make the memory of your lesbian sojourn... shall we say... palatable. Y'know, so it doesn't do a number on your psyche."
"You can do that? You can actually do that?"
"Yes. Fact is, Ann: something of that nature is rather easy to accomplish."
"Oh! I'm delighted to here that, Gene.
"Maybe...", Ann proceeded thoughtfully, "Just maybe... after we get some of these other things all sorted out... you and I are going to have to explore that lesbian option in a little greater detail, Gene.
"I mean... if you can arrange it so that I can... shall we say... opt in and out of a homosexual mind-set and not suffer any negative mental repercussions... you know something, Gene! I might just have to stow these repugnant feelings of mine and take you up on it!
"I mean... if I could become... shall we say... a part time lesbian... y'know, so that you and I could get it on every now and again... it sure as hell would help the two of us manage our future life together!"
"Yes, Ann. It most certainly would.", Gene commented thoughtfully.
"However... though I'm really intrigued by the idea you've presented, Gene... given the fact that I don't really relish the idea of bidding the sexual side of our relationship a fond adieu... I'm going to have to think long and hard on the whole notion. Y'know, because becoming a lesbian... even if it's only on part time bases... still gives me the friggin' heebie-jeebies, Gene!"
"Ann!", Gene intruded on Ann's musings, "Please! Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong... but are you saying what I think you're saying?
"I mean... from what I gather out of all this lesbian talk of yours' is: that you don't want to do anything about rescinding that wedding vow wish of yours'? That you want to let it stands as it is... even though... to my way of thinking... it seems to be doing a real number on you?"
"Yes, Gene...", Ann, having reached the same conclusion much earlier in their on going discussion, "I guess that I am."
"Perhaps... if you are amiable, I could offer a small suggestion that might help us both deal with the repercussions of that wedding vow wish of your's, Ann."
"Okay! Sure, Gene! What's your suggestion?"
"That you amend that wish of your's slightly. That you make a wish to tone the intensity of it down just a smidgen or so."
"And how do you suggest I go about doing that, Gene?"
"Well... you could make a wish that would grant both you and I the necessary will power to ride rough shod of over our wish engendered passions."
"I can do that?" I can make such a wish?"
"Yes, dear.", Gene, in his honey sweetened voice, replied matter-oh-factly. "You most certainly can."
"And it'll affect both us?", Ann inquired.
Gene, though he rarely if ever out and out fibbed to his wife about anything, made an exception; knowing that if he - as a blonde bombshell of a female jinn - didn't, then Ann wouldn't make the wish and would therefore, continue to endure the intensity of her unfulfilled passions, the way he - as a she - was doomed to do.
"Yes, hon... it will."
"Alright then... I wish that we both had the mental where- with-all to be able to manage the surging passions and desires that my former wish engendered."
Although the she still harbored the pressing need to do 'something' to appease that confusing and convoluted - Gene- targeted - primordial carnal craving of her's, Ann found that she now possessed more than enough will power to ride rough shod over it. Her amorous and ardent desires, while still firmly entrenched, had become, in the flickering of an instant, manageable. Her compulsions to do some sort of mind boggling and elusive 'something' - though she was still at a totally loss as to know what - exactly - that mind boggling and elusive 'something' was, though still very much in evidence, no longer threatened to overwhelmed her. She, and not the chaotic state of her frazzled emotions, were in control. However, Ann was also keenly aware of the fact, that should she consciously elected to do so, she could, on a whim, unshackle those amorous - Gene- targeted - emotions and compulsions of hers and allow them the free reign to indulge their lewd, crude and wantonly lascivious ways. "Wow!", Ann exclaimed gleefully. "That seemed to have done the trick!
"Things are... I guess you could say... a whole hell of a lot more manageable."
"I mean... while the bond of love between us still seems to have... what I would call... any almost tangible feel to it... the physical impetus I was feeling... y'know, the one that actually had me seriously contemplating that lesbian option of your's... though still in very much in evidence... isn't threatening to rear its' ugly little head and overwhelm my sensibilities. Y'know, like it was!
"I mean... regardless of your present state... both as a genie and a stacked and packed blonde bombshell of a most bodaciously and beguilingly built dick teaser... there's no denying the fact that I am still deeply, hopeless and passionately in love with you, Gene!
"However... I don't feel the urgent... or... shall we say... the pressing need to indulge those passions of mine in a physical way... even though there is still a part of me... a very small and impishly sadistic part of me... that would - if I could ever get up the gumption - like to tickle the hell out of that new little fancy of your's, Gene!
"I mean... as perverse at it must surely sound... it would... if I could ever get past these revulsions of mine... give me the greatest... and perhaps, perverted pleasure... to be able to do unto you as you have... on so many occasions... done unto me.
"Oh!", Ann, realizing that she had yet to hear how her jinnified husband had faired as a result of that last wish of her's, apologized. "I'm sorry, Gene! I've been running my mouth again! Tell me: have you gotten any relief at all? Did that last wish of mine work for you like it did for me? Has that raging horniness of your's subsided any? Or, is that mental penis of your's still doing a number on you?"
Knowing that the truth wouldn't sit well with his mistress- wife, Gene, though he hated his herified self for doing so, lied that pert, perky and provocative tush of his girlified form off, "Yes. It's a whole lot better now."
"You mean...", Ann teased, "you don't want to have your way with me anymore, young lady?"
"Well...", Gene teased back, "I wouldn't necessarily go that far... After all, Ann... while I might be lacking a wee bit of my former sexual equipment... specifically, that old trusty pecker of mine... I've still got what it takes to bring home the proverbial bacon!"
"You do, do ya!", Ann humorously retorted. "Okay! I'll bite, little lady! Since I haven't the foggiest notion as to what you are talking about, Gene... why don't you just cut to the chase and clue me in on just what in the hell you're talking about!"
Complying, Gene mischievously flashed his mistress-wife a wickedly engaging smile and dutifully proceed on to expose the very tip of his newly herified tongue. Then, once that herified tongue of his was once again nestled behind those seductive puckered lips of his spectacularly feminized visage, Gene flippantly quipped, "While it might be a whole hell of a lot smaller than it use to be... its' still nimble and in a pinch... it should be more than sufficient to engender at least an orgasm or two!"
"Hmm...", Ann countered, playing along with her husband jest. "Maybe... if you're a good little genie... and dutifully great me all my wishes... I might just find it in my heart of hearts to take you up on the offer...
"Gene...", Ann, continuing in a more thoughtful manner, "Tell me something... Am I correct in assuming that... should I elected to do so... I can have you undo any or all of my previous wishes... y'know, by just making another wish to... I guess you could say... nullify 'em?"
"Yes, dear... that is a correct assumption.", Gene succinctly responded.
"Well then... oh, husband of mine... tell me something else! Can I make a wish that cannot be undone?"
"Yes...", Gene answered tentatively. "You do have that option. However Ann, I cannot conceive of a situation were you might want to make such a binding wish."
"Well, I can!", Ann proclaimed in a most demonstrative manner.
"Ann! Please! I beseech you!", Gene alarmingly implored. "Don't be hasty! Don't go off half-cocked and do something rash... something that you might possible regret doing later!"
"Hasty! Smasty! Look, Little Miss No-cock-at-all! Once I finished refining this rather convoluted relationship of ours... and everything's as hunky-dory as I can possible make it... y'know, given the extraordinary circumstances we find ourselves embroiled within... I don't want anyone - Not even me! - dickering around with it!
"Look, Gene! If anybody knows how that persnickety law of Mr. Murphy's tends to work... the two of us most certainly do!
"I mean... take today for example! Here, we come into the possession of a magic, wish-granting lamp and look what happens! You get co-opted into becoming its' femmed out to the friggin' max of a genie!
"And if that isn't Murphy's Law in action... then, I don't what in the hell is!"
"Hell, Gene... by all rights, this should be one of the happiest day of our lives!
"But, is it?
"No! It most certainly is not!", Ann sarcastically quipped; in essence, providing an answer for her own question.
"I mean... as far as I'm concerned... I wish we never went to that flea market this morning! That I never ever saw the lamp! And more to the point, that I never felt the desire to purchased it!"
"What's the matter, Gene? Can't you handle that one?"
"'Fraid not, hon. Since I'm not allowed to fiddlefuck around with the space-time continuum... even though I do possess that capability... I am restrained from processing that last wish of your's. What's done is done. And as sorry as I am to say this, dear: it can't be undone."
Ann, who hand a good deal of first hand knowledge concerning how Mr. Murphy's Law tended to work, kind of figured on that sort of response, and so, resignedly quipped, "Farzenfarts!".
"But anyhow... getting back to what I was saying... since we're more or less stuck smack, dab in the middle of this friggin' mell of a hess of our's... I want to safeguard this convoluted relationship our's. I want to insure that a slip of the tongue on my part doesn't go and screw it up.
"I mean... though I can't envision this ever happening... let's say - for instance - that you and I end up getting embroiled in a real knock-down, dragged-out, no holds bar argument over some sort of silly, inconsequential nonsense and I up blowing my cool and making some asinine wish that... in effect... completely subverts you to my will."
"Ann...", Gene interjected. "In case you haven't noticed... given this jinnified condition of mine... I'm already completely subservient to you will."
"Yes!", Ann snapped. "I'm aware of that! But, I fully intend on changing that aspect of our relationship!
"Tell you what, Gene! Why don't we address that issue... right here! Right now!
"Can I make a wish that... for a lack of a better way to put this... incorporates several different stipulations?" Or, do I have to make a whole lot of single issue wishes in order to achieve what I want to achieve?"
"It's your option, Ann. You can do it anyway you'd like."
"That's good. I'm glad to hear that.
"Okay then, Gene. This next wish of mine will be of the multi-faceted variety. Alright?"
"Sure, Ann. Shoot!"
"I wish for us to be on... I guess you could say... an equal footing. I want us to revert back to being partners in this ongoing, albeit, convoluted husband-wife relationship of ours... y'know, with equal influence... equal input. I do not what you to be subservient to me in any way, shape or form; save on matters that directly influence either one or both of our appearances. I mean... I kind of like the notion that I can dickering around with not only how I look... but, more to the point... how you look... how you are dressed... and I think... at least for the time being, Gene... I'd like to reserve the right to continue to do so for my own... without either your input or your approval required. In other words, my dearest darling blonde bombshell of a husband, if I want you prancing around the house in something... I guess you could say... suggestive... y'know, something on the order of that rather sultry maid's outfit... y'know, the very same maid's outfit that I was going to wear for you this evening... and... shall we say... a pair of sexy spiked heels... guess what! You will! And furthermore... if I want you to look like you're as happy as a pig in shit to be doing so - guess what, my darling dearest - you will be!
"Yes, dear.", Gene, demurely and resignedly made the obligatory reply.
"However, on a matters that do not directly related to how either you and I look... or the clothing that we might be wearing... I wish that before any future wish of mine is implemented... it must be... I guess you could say... rubber stamped... or... perhaps... seconded by you. Also, since we're going to be partners in this re-defined relationship of ours, Gene... I want you have every right to make suggestions and offer comments concerning what we may or may not wish for.
"Okay? I mean... am I making myself clear?"
"Yes, Ann. As clear as a bell."
"Also... now that I've had a moment or so to think about it... I think I'd like to retain autonomous control over any and all wishes that clearly pertain to my own self. For example: that lesbian option of your's, Gene. If I ever do get up the gumption to give female homosexuality a trial run, I'd like to be able to do it for myself. In other words, little lady, I don't want to have obtain either your blessings or approval in order to do something of that nature. Alright?"
"Yes.", Gene replied evenly. Is there anything else you'd like to add before I implement it, Ann?"
"Can't think of anything... can you?"
"No...", Gene mused thoughtful, "I think you've pretty much covered all the bases. However, Ann... just to be on the safe side... let's see if I've got it right.
"First off, you want the two of us to be on an equal husband and wife like footing; in effect, emancipating me from my lamp imposed subservient role, save in matters that directly relate to our outward appearances. When it comes to how we look... how we are attired... you reserve the autonomous right to make all the decisions. In other words, Ann... what you're basically saying is: your going to be both my beauty consultant and my haberdasher and I'm going to be your real-live... walking... talking... dick-teaser special attired Barbie Doll... who's going to have to lump it... y'know, like whenever I'm not... I think it's safe to say... exactly thrilled... or should that be - overjoyed - with whatever outfit you've cooked up for this new and amply endowed body of mine to be decked out in!"
"So far so good, Gene. And guess what! You're right on the money when it comes to that dick-teaser special remark of your's! Besides... now that you've been fitted out with that simply scrumptious, blonde bombshell of a body of yours... you've got to admit that you've got two rather hefty and conical lumps to lump it with!"
"Yeah... so I've noticed.", Gene, who, spurred on by Ann's gibe, was once again scooping out the aforementioned female attributes for his own ultra herified self, replied with as much gruffness and consternation as he - as a she - could muster.
'Shit!', Ann mentally chided herself as she observed her husband, for the umpteenth time since becoming the lamp's harem clad jinn of a female genie, reach up, cradle his newly installed mammary protrusions and proceed on to crassly fondle the living shit out of 'em. 'What in the hell was I thinking when I made that off-hand remark about how he now had two rather ample and conical lumps to lump it with! Wouldn't you just know it! Now that I've gone and brought them to his attention, he's going to start playing yet another vulgar and disgusting game of titty- tweak with himself! Boy, did I goof! Big F'in Time!'
"Gene... Gene...', Ann prompted in an all out effort to regain and refocus her husband attention. "You were saying..."
"Oh! That's right!", Gene, acting in a manner that was, to Ann' way of thinking, very reminiscent of your classic mischievous child caught with his hands in the off-limits cookie jar scenario, discombobulatedly replied, as he - as the stunning she that he had become - quickly and guiltily yanked his delicately feminized hands out from under the lower arch of his newly enhanced chest mounds. Then, in an all out effort to gloss over the fact that he - as a she - had been caught - as they say - red-handed, playing a rather sleazy game of titty-tweak with his herified self, Gene, opted to forego the lame excuses tendering option, figuring - quite correctly - that his wife would take his sexually induced dilemma into account, and so, elected to just forge ahead, "Okay! Let's see... Where was I when we got off on that tangent of our's and started talking about these new and rather pronounced boobies of mine?
"Oh, I know! I was reviewing the various stipulations involved in this multi-faceted wish of your's, Ann!
"Let's see... I know without the shadow of a doubt that I touched upon the equal footing business. Then... after I took care of that one... if this newly installed, elemental enhanced, bear-trap like memory of mine serves me correctly... which... I assure you, dear... it does... I do believe that I also hit the highlights of that appearance and clothing codicil of your's... y'know, the one that will... for all intent and purposes... Barbie Dollify me!
"Okay! So that brings us to that next stipulation of your's, dear... the one that grants you autonomous control over any and all changes that you might like to make with respect to your own self.
"I mean... does that more or less sum up all the little nuances of the wish that you'd like to make, Ann?"
Taking a second or so to run them over in her own mind first, Ann replied, "Yes... I believe it does."
"Alright then... if you think you've covered all the bases, Ann... the only thing left for you to do is to direct me to implement 'em."
"Consider yourself so directed... oh, harem girl clad husband of mine!"
"Your wish has been dutifully granted.", Gene returned evenly.
"Yes, dear. It has."
"Strange...", Ann mused. "I don't feel any different."
"But I do, Ann."
"Yes. I do.
"For the first time since becoming the jinn of the lamp, I feel... I guess you could say... unburdened... or... in a sense liberated.
"I mean... it's kind of hard for me to even begin to put into words the changes that that wish of your's brought about... but I can tell you... it feels good! Really, really good! Y'know, even considering the ignominious fact that I'm still a frickin' girl!
"I mean... you can't begin to imagine what it's like to know that you're complete subservient to another's whims! I mean... before you went and made that last wish of your's, Ann, I was your slave! Granted, I was a drop-dead gorgeous, magic wielding slave, but a slave none the less! I had no say in this newly imposed life of mine what-so-ever! Just knowing that I could be coerced... via a wish... into do damn near anything... and I do mean 'anything', dear... really did a number on this male oriented psyche of mine! I mean... in no uncertain terms, Ann... it rankled the living shit out of me! Had you directed me to bark like a dog... guess what! I'd been barking up a storm! Had you wanted me to kiss your ass! I would have had no choice in the matter! In other words, Ann... I'd bit the proverbial bullet, puckered up and planted a great big lip-lock of a smoocher on that rather delightful and titillating tush of your's! And, had you told me to go fuck myself... as abhorrent as it would be for me to engage in something as repugnant as that would be... I would have been compelled to obey!"
"Now, wait just one ding dong minute, little lady!", Ann bombastically interrupted. "Just how in hell could you manage to do something as absurd as that, Gene?"
"You mean... such as go fuck myself?"
"Yes!", Ann, though thoroughly repulsed by the whole notion of what her femmified husband had referred to, she found that she was also extremely curious as to just how he - as a she - would have accomplished such a crassly couched directive.
"How could you anatomically manage to do something as crass as that to yourself?"
"Easily! Were I coerced by a wish to engage in an act of sexual, self penetration I would simply turn one or another of my hands into a fully functional set of male genitalia and proceed to thrust the blood infused shaft of the penis portion of that genitalia up inside this newly installed vagina of mine."
Horrified with the imagery that assaulted her, Ann frantically demanded, "You can actually do something like that? You can actually change one of your hands into a man's 'thing'?"
"Yes.", Gene replied a little to matter-of-factly to suit his wife's sense of propriety and proper decorum. "Fact is, Ann: something of that nature is rather easy to accomplish when you're wielding the almost unlimited powers of a jinn.
"See!", Gene said, as he, to Ann horror, demonstrated that he - as the jinnified femme fatale that he had so recently become - was fully capable of accomplishing the deed.
"Gene!", Ann, revolted to the depth and breadth of her being, frantically implored. "That's disgusting! Absolutely disgusting! Please! Get rid of it! Please! Oh, Please! I implore you! Turn that... that... that... that despicable 'thing'... back into your hand!"
Gene, seeing how upset Ann was quickly becoming, prudently did as requested.
Then, having done so, Gene, while he - as she - was standing there, staring down at his re-normalized hand, thoughtfully mused aloud, "Now that's something..."
Ann, in a clearly peeved tone of voice, challenged, "You mean... being able to turning your hand into a friggin' penis!?"
"No.", Gene dreamily replied. "I not referring to the act itself... nor, am I referring to my innate ability to actually accomplish such a deed... rather, I'm referring to the strange set of circumstances that allowed me the leeway to do something like that on my own... y'know, and not on the direction of someone else."
"You see, hon... before you made that last wish of your's... I couldn't have gone and done something like that on my own! Now, I can! And that Ann, is the whole difference I was referring to before in a friggin' nutshell! That wish of your's... for a lack of a better way to put this... has... in effect... emancipated me from the constraints that that lamp of mine had imposed on me! Save for those stipulations of your's... y'know, the ones that gives you say over how I look and how I dress... for all intent and purposes, you've done a most wonderful and gracious thing! You've liberated me! Y'know... like you've gone and given me back the ability to exercise my free will!"
Ann, who's was body was still being racked by the icky feeling, goose-bump producing, cold shivers of repugnancy, somewhat annoyingly and halfheartedly replied, "That's nice, Gene... I very happy and delighted that you've gotten that free will of your's back... But let me tell you something! Don't you ever! Ever! Do something like that again! I mean... it was absolutely disgusting standing here, watching that hand of your's undergo that penis-transformation-thing-of-a-ma-jig! I mean... the very thought of you doing something like that... shoving that... that... that... despicable 'thing' of your's... up inside yourself... is so frickin' abhorrent to me that my stomach is actually in an uproar... doing one friggin' flip flop after another!"
"Sorry 'bout that, dear. Please, accept my sincere apology. I just wasn't aware that that demonstration of mine was going to go and upset you so. Had I known... believe me... I never would have done it."
"Apology accepted, Gene. However...", Ann continued on in a most thoughtful manner, "I was wondering... How could you manage to do something like that? I mean... did I or did not specify that I was to retain autonomous control of your appearance?"
"Yes, Ann. You most certainly did."
"Well... if that's so, Gene... weren't you more or less precluded from doing what you just went and did?"
"No... not really, honey. Now... had it been... shall we say... a permanent change... that would have been a whole other ball game. Then, that autonomous stipulation of your's would have most assuredly come into play and I wouldn't have been able to do what I did. However... and this is where the restoration of my free will enters into the picture... I knew that I was merely demonstrating that... as a magic wielding jinn... I possess the necessary metaphysical where-with-all to accomplish the aforementioned vulgar and obscene act of... what one might call... where one to it... self-contained copulation.
"In other words, Ann... since I knew that the change I was making was only a temporary one and not a permanent one... I was not constrained from doing what I did."
"Oh!", Ann responded. "You mean to tell me that... should I choose to do so... which I most certainly do not... I could actually direct you to turn one of your hands into a fully functioning set of male genitalia?"
"No, Ann! The lamp will not allow me to process such a wish."
"Remember, Ann! While you can radically change my outward appearance... shrink me down to Barbie Doll size or... should you elected to do so... turn me into some gargantuan, Godzillia-like lesbo dyke freak... y'know, that dwarfs the friggin' Statue of Liberty... there's a couple of things that my lamp's not going to allow you to fiddle-fuck around with! First off... there's this new found femininity of mine! My lamp's not about to let you... or for that matter... anyone else dicker around with that! And two... while you can tinker around with the way I look to your heart's content... you cannot... I think it's fair to say... do anything that would either detract from... or diminish the overall appearance of this physical feminine package that I am so ingloriously and ignominiously decked out in!
"In other words, Ann... the way they - whomever in hell they were - got this jinnification of mine rigid... come hell or high water... I going to remain balls to the walls beautiful!"
"Alright then...", Ann returned tentatively, "Given the fact that I have no intention of ever asking you to do something like that again... y'know, given how much it revolts me... let me ask you another question?"
"Sure, Ann. Ask away!"
"Can you... for demonstration purposes only... turn that vagina of your's into a penis and testicles?"
"Sorry, Ann! No can do! As much as I'd like to oblige you, I'm sorry to say that: that particular part of my anatomy has to remain functionally female at all times."
"Alright then... since we can't do anything about that pussy of your's, Gene... is there any prohibition about dickering around with mine?"
"Not that I'm aware of, Ann. As far as I know, you can... should you ever elect to do so... direct me to change any... or, for that matter... all of your body into that of a fully functioning male's anatomy."
"Now that's something else to consider...", Ann replied impishly.
"You're not thinking what I think you're thinking?"
"Perhaps... I am.", Ann, somewhat sadistically, teased.
"Ann!", Gene's honey sweetened voice, registering a degree of both panic and protest, countered.
"I mean... since we can't do anything about that new little pussy of your's... oh, husband of mine... and since we... or more precisely... I can do something about mine...", Ann left the thought unfinished.
"Ann! You wouldn't! You couldn't!"
"Oh, wouldn't I!
"Look... my femmed out to the friggin' max of a husband... ", Ann said as she walked over and placed a consoling arm around her husband's bare shoulders. "If we're going to salvage the sexual side of our relationship... I'm not going to pooh-pooh any option out of hand!
"Besides... now that I had a moment or so to think about it... it might be fun to have my way with you, young lady... y'know, considering the fact that I've never - ever - had a virgin before.
"Ann! Please!", Gene passionately implored.
"What's wrong, dear? Afraid to have that newly installed cheery of your's popped?"
Gene, confused and, to a degree, horrified, hesitantly and haltingly replied, "Yes! No! I don't know! It's just..."
"Just what, Gene?", Ann jokingly taunted.
"It's just that I'm not use to the idea that I'm a girl and all yet, Ann!
"I mean... while this glamor girl physique of mine belies the fact, I still tend to think of myself as a man! And because I do, this sexual role-reversal notion of your's isn't exactly an easy thing for me to swallow!"
"Gene! Gene!", Ann scoffed good-naturedly. "Don't go getting those new and rather generous tits of your's in an uproar! We've got a long... long... long way to go before we even entertain the notion of tackling the oral sex issue! If... that is... we ever do! I mean... I can't even begin to tell you how long it took for me to get up the gumption to go down on you... so don't worry your pretty little head over something we may never get around to experimenting with in the first friggin' place, Gene! I mean... if we ever do opt to give this male/female sexual role-reversal option of mine a go... we're going to go slow... take it one itsy-bitsy, teeny weeny step at a time... and then... and only then... if you ever do reach a point where you feel that you might be able to stomach it... we might... and the key word here is 'might'... give the oral sex business a try.
"Besides, Gene... I would never expect you to do something that I wouldn't do! And you know fully well... while I might go down on you... y'know, because I know how much you enjoy it when I do so... you know as well as I do... I don't want you coming in my mouth! And because of that... shall we say... cogent point... if... and I know it's a big and highly unlikely 'if'... we ever do get to that point... y'know, should we ever go the sexual role-reversal route... I promise that we'll only take the oral sex business as far as you want to go with it! Alright?"
Not the least little bit happy with the prospect of what his wife was suggesting, Gene reluctantly replied, "Yeah... sure... I guess I can live with that..."
Then, having said that, Gene, in an effort to shrug off the doldrums he was felling, sarcastically added, "However, Ann... if we ever do give this sexual role-reversal option of your's a go... and you get to have your way with me... the question then becomes: will you still respect me in the morning?"
That remake got Ann to chuckling. And Ann's unfettered chuckling, in turn, engendered Gene's giggling. And Gene's inane attempt to stifle his giggling, transformed Ann's chuckling into the belly jarring guffaws of outrageous and unrestrained laughter. And Ann's boisterous chortling, as engaging as it was, in short order had Gene hee-hawing and cackling right along with her.
* * *
After their laughing jag had run its' course and the two of them had finally managed to regained at least a modicum of their former composure, acting on Ann's suggestion, they relocated; moving from the kitchen and out into the living room. There, seated across the coffee table from one another, Gene, having removed the silver, stiletto heeled pumps that he - as a she - had been wearing in order to allow his herified self the ability to assume a crossed legged, Indian-like sitting position, returned to the matter at hand, saying: "You know, Ann... I been giving this irrevocable wish notion of your's some serious thought and I don't think that it's either a good idea or... for that matter... necessary."
Ann, having first taken a small sip of the champagne that her harem girl clad husband had graciously and magically procured for the both of them to wet their rather parched whistles on, questioned, "And just why don't you think it's a good idea, Gene?"
"Well... for starters, hon... let me first make sure that my assumption is correct and that the real reason you came up with this irrevocable wish notion of your's in the first place was because you were afraid that you might one day get upset with me and, without thinking of the repercussions of what you were doing, end up saying something rash that would - in effect - undo everything you've gone and done to insure that this relationship of ours' remains intact?"
"Yes, Gene... that pretty much sums it up. Basically, I'm afraid that I might fly off the handle and screw things up royally."
"First off, Ann... I'm the one that flys off the friggin' handle! Not you! When you do get mad, Ann... you get stubborn and unreasonable. I mean... come on! Admit it! Of the two of us... you handle your anger a whole hell of a lot better than I do.
"So... I guess what I'm saying is: the chances of you getting really pissed-off at me and mis-speaking yourself is practically nil. Y'know, because something like that is completely out of character for you.
"I mean... while I'll freely admit that it's something that I could do... especially when I get to feeling like I've been backed into an emotional corner... when it comes to you, Ann... I really don't think we would have had anything to worry about.
"Secondly... while you could have gone and upset the proverbial apple cart before... y'know, before you up and made that wish of your's that - for all intent and purposes - granted me equal status in this rather discombobulated, re-defined relationship of ours'... save when it comes to my appearance and the articles of clothing that I'm going to be decked out in... you can't do something like that now. Now... before you can wish for anything... in most instances... you've got to get my approval.
"That means... you've more or less established... for lack of a better way to put this... a fail safe system.... y'know, that's more or less analogous to the double key enabling system they use to safe guard against the possibility of an unauthorized, rogue ballistic missile launch."
"And furthermore... even if we didn't have the checks and balances in place... y'know, that grants me the where-with-all to preclude you from doing something that's both stupid and rash... were you still capable of doing something like that... y'know, on your own... and you really went and screwed things up... it wouldn't be the end of the world!
"I mean... given that I am a jinn now... as long as it wasn't an irrevocable, eternally binding wish - Guess what, hon! - as long as you retain possession of my lamp, you have the necessary where-with-all to put poor old Humpty-Dumpty back together again!
"In other words, Ann... as long as we don't elected to employ the irrevocable option in any future wish of ours'... anything that we do... we can undo... and vice versa.
"So... all I'm saying is... when you take all of that into account... I can't conceive of a situation where the irrevocable option gains us anything.
"I mean... once we would incorporate one into a wish of ours'... we're stuck with the results. There's no going back and re-doing 'em!
"So... before we go and do something we could both end up regretting... how about we just let sleeping dogs lie, Ann... and just forget about ever incorporating the irrevocable option in one of our wishes. Alright?"
"Well...", Ann began. "When you put it like that... all logical and all... I have to concede that you've got a point there, Gene. Though it sure seemed like the way to go when I first came up with it... now that shown me the error of my ways... I do believe that you're right! And I whole heartedly agree. We shouldn't dicker around with that irrevocable option."
"I both gladdened and relieved that you agree with me, Ann! I mean to tell you! When you first made mention of going that route... though I doubt that you were aware of it... you gave we a bad case of the heebie-jeebies.
"I mean... you came within a hair's breath of scaring the living shit out of me!"
"Sorry, Gene! I never meant to!", Ann was quick to reply.
"I know, honey. I know you were just trying to make the best out of a bad... if not disastrous situation.
Then, though completely oblivious to the fact that he - as a newly ensconced she - was once again doing so, Gene tenderly, if not both tentatively and a tad bit teasingly, began to draw the long nailed and well manicured middle finger of his right hand up along the central swath of his re-configured loins, in affect, shamelessly groping his herified self for the umpteenth time since being regurgitated from out of the lamp's innards as a harem girl clad femme fatale of an elemental enhanced wish granting jinn.
Completely unaware of the fact that he was playing yet another crass game of twat-tweaking with his herified self, Gene, proceeded on to inquire, "Alright, Ann. Now that we've addressed this re-defined... if not perverted and sexually dysfunctional relationship of ours... plus all of that other stuff that we've been dickering around with, dear... y'know, when you're not sadistically toying around with the notion of having me fit you out with a fully functional set of male genitalia so that you can... I guess you could say... deflower me... now that you can have anything... or... shall we say... darn near anything... y'know, that your little heart desires - pray tell, dear - what would you like to wish for now?"
"Well...", Ann began thoughtfully, "Now that we're out one income... given the fact that you certainly can't go in to work come Monday morning with that brand spanking new built like a brick shithouse of a body of your's, Gene... y'know, because nobody's going to be gullible enough to buy into the fact that you're still you... y'know, on the inside... where it counts... and since it's more or less a given that if you're not going to have to go into work any more... y'know, what with you and your being a genie and all... you can bet that pert and perky re- vamped tush of your's that I'm not going to go into my work either! So... given all of that... now that we're going to be out both of our incomes... I guess that the next wish we should make... will... out of necessity... have something or other to do with the financial dilemma that your becoming a genie has potentially threatened to immerse the two of us in."
"Too true, dear.", Gene readily agreed. "I've been thinking along the very same lines that you have. And I believe I have come up with the solution."
"Can't we just make a wish that would make us rich, Gene?"
"Yes... we could do that, honey.
"I mean.. should we elected to do so... I could simple fill this house of ours with stacks and stacks of freshly minted one hundred dollar bills!
"However... should we opt to go that route, Ann... they could be all sorts of unintended consequences... y'know, that could - in effect - ties us up in bureaucratic knots... endeavoring - ad nauseam - to explain how we - all of a sudden - came into such wealth in the first friggin' place.
"But can't you twang that magic twanger of your's... or do whatever you have to do as a genie to... I guess you could say... take care of that sort of bureaucratic nonsense up front, Gene?"
"No... not really, dear... While it sure would be nice if I could... you have to understand the fact that while I'm good... damn good... y'know, given all these supercalafragicexpealidicious metaphysical enhancements of mine... I'm far cry from being anywhere close to being omnipotent!
"In other words, dear... while I can cover a lot of the bases... maybe, even most of 'em... give the tenacious way that Mr. Murphy's Law tends to work... at least as far as you and I are concerned... you can bet this pert and perky new tush of mine that there's no way in hell that I'm going to be able to cover them all!
"Now... while it's true that I can probably deal with the unintended consequences when they rear their ugly and persnickety little heads... if we do this thing right from the get-go... I do believe that we might be able to avoid all the hassles and pitfalls that might crop up... y'know, like down the road apiece.
"I mean... let's say that we just make a wish to be rich and - shazam - I turn us into instant billionaires... somebody... y'know, somebody like the I.R.S... is going to get suspicious and want an accounting! Y'know, as in they're going to want know just where in hell we got all that money of ours' in the first friggin' place!
"So... I was thinking... that... since you've always wanted to win the lottery anyhow... I could a do little tinkering here... a little finagling there... and there by insure that nobody wins for... shall we say... the next six weeks or so... y'know, causing the rather substantial jackpot that now exist to sky rocket damn near exponentially...
"Then... once the payoff has been substantially inflated... I flex a little bit more of this magical potential of mine and poof! I provide you with the one and only wining ticket."
"Okay! So we hit for the big payola! We take some of the first year's pay-out and go on a spree! For instance, we take some of those dream vacations that you and I have always wanted to take. We buy a new car! A house! Whatever! The rest we invest. And we invest across the whole spectrum. We put some... a tidy amount... in blue chips! The remainder, we split between middle of the roaders and some high risk, technology based companies! Then, I go to work. I find a few well deserving people... y'know, who are employed by a few of these high risk, technology based companies that we've invested in... and... shall we say... lend them a hand in developing some new and extremely marketable products... y'know, that will result in our investments doubling... tripling and in some case... quadrupling.
"And we keep doing that. Investing and re-investing... until one fine day... in the not to distant future... guess what, Ann! You're not merely a paltry... run of the mill... multi- millionaire! Your a reclusive, beautiful blonde bombshell of a billionaire!
"And then, if you want to get into philanthropic business... and do what we can to help right the wrongs of this old world of ours... great!
"You see, Ann... while we can't actually break the rules... y'know, that prohibit you from using my metaphysical where-with- all for the benefit others... if we employ the right approach... we can sure as shit bend the friggin' hell out of 'em!"
"Yeah! When you put it like that... oh, harem girl clad husband of mine... it sure seems like the right way to go!
"But tell me something, Gene!"
"Sure, hon... what?"
"Why all the subterfuge? Why can't we just say the hell with it and flaunt the fact that I am in the possession of a magic lamp who's beautiful genie grants me any wish that my little heart desire... y'know, and then we don't have to worry about all the hassles stemming out of these unintended consequences that you made mention of?"
"Because, Ann... while you could get away with something like that in the once upon a long... long... long time ago of those long out of fashion goldie, oldie, moldy Days of Yore... y'know, when uneducated folk believed in magical lamps, wish granting genies and all that other fanciful and far fetched balderdash... while it's true that there are lot of people who would accept the fact that I am who and what I claim to be... y'know, out of hand... you'd best believe that there would always be a whole parcel of skeptics roaming around out there... y'know, who... even though they are presented with irrefutable proof that I am who and what I say I am... they are not going to buy into it! They are going to swear that you and I are running some sort of high tech scam on them!
"And then there's something else to consider, Ann!
"And what - pray tell - is that, Gene!
"Were you to tell the world that you are in the possession of a magic lamp... who's 'I Dream of Jeannie' like jinn grants you any wish that you might make... guess what, dear! You will become an instant celebrity... who... given how this modern day celebrityhood of ours' works... will be hounded for the rest of your life! Y'know, like Princess Di was! Like Jackie Kennedy was!
"Now... tell me the truth, Ann! Do you really want to spend the rest of your life embroiled in a never ending game of dodge the press?"
"Heavens, no!", Ann returned most emphatically. "You're right, Gene! That sort of notoriety must be avoided at all cost!
"Perhaps... we ought to re-think this billionaire business as well. I mean... while I'd like to live out the rest of my life comfortably... y'know, and make the most out of these newly conferred talents of yours... oh, little sexpot of a femmed out husband of mine... if there's any way to possible do so... I'd like to pass on the notoriety business. Alright?"
"Sure, hon... Anything that little heart of your's desires. Besides... given that I can take care of all our immediate needs... y'know, and then some... we have plenty of time to consider what we're going to do in the future. Y'know, as in we don't have to rush these decisions of ours', Ann!"
"So... little Miss Stacked and Packed Problem Solver of mine - pray tell - what are we going to do about our respective jobs?
"I mean... you certainly aren't going into work on Monday... y'know, looking like you do now! And... if you're not going to go into work... I can see absolutely no reason for me to do so either! Y'know, since you can... as you say... take care of all our immediate needs.
"So... the question is, Gene: just how are we going to handle these respective jobs of ours' come Monday morning? I mean... are we simply going to call in sick or what?"
"No...", Gene mused thoughtfully, "That'll only postpone the problem."
"So... what are we going to do?", Ann prompted.
"Let me think about this for a second, Ann...
"Wait! I think I've got it!", Gene exclaimed.
"Your boss has voice mail on her phone... doesn't she, Ann?"
"Yes...", Ann offered tentatively.
"Good! So does mine.
"Alright!", Gene continued on to explain. "Tomorrow... something in the early afternoon... you're going to call your boss' voice mailbox and tell her that we have a family emergency that requires your immediate attention... which... given what happened to me today... is... in a convoluted manner of speaking... the truth... the whole truth... and nothing but the truth... y'know, so you really aren't lying to her, Ann...
"But anyhow... getting back to what you are to say... I suggest that you elude to the fact that though you really hate to put her on the spot... you're going to have to take a weeks vacation so that you can attend to what needs to be attended to... y'know, and that you'll touch base with her later on in the week... y'know, just to keep her appraised as to what's going on.
"Then... after you call your boss... I'll call my boss' voice mail and do likewise."
"How are you going to that, Gene? Y'know, given the fact that this new and distinctly feminized rendition of your voice doesn't sound even remotely like your old male voice did."
"Easy! I'll just tinker around with the telephone company's voice mail system with a wee bit of this magical potential of mine and - Wallah! - come Monday morning... when my boss plays his messages back - guess what - it won't be the all new and ultra feminized version of my voice that he'll be hearing... but rather my old, distinctly male sounding voice instead."
"You can do that?", Ann, though she had no doubt that he - as a she - could, found herself posing the question anyhow.
"Yeah... it's a cinch!"
"Alright... smart ass! That'll take care of next week. What - pray tell - do we do after that! Call in and take another weeks vacation?"
"Sure... why not, Ann? And then... once we used up all of the vacation days respectively due us... we'll start taking days off without pay.
"I mean... the worst thing that's going to happen is: we'll piss 'em off and they'll terminate us!"
"True...", Ann agreed. "But..."
"But what, Ann!"
"I don't know, Gene... it's just that I'm... I guess you could say... uncomfortable with the idea of doing something like that."
"So am I, dear!", Gene replied. "But what else are we going to do?
"I mean... if it's going to bother you that much, hon... tell you what! You continue go to work... y'know, until we hit the lottery and then, you can quit! Y'know, 'cause nobody... especially that boss of your's... is going to expect you to keep working after you win the kind of money that we're talking about here, Ann!"
"Regrettable... since I'm not the man that I used to be... y'know, like this morning... when I woke up... I don't have luxury of that option! I can't go to work! You - however - can!
"So... it's up to you, Ann! I can't make the decision for you! Work! Don't work!
"But... the good thing is, dear... if you do decide to keep working... we're only talking about six to eight weeks here! So... if you feel that you need to keep working... y'know, to sooth your sensibilities... it'll only be for the next month or two at the most. And then, Ann... after we hit the lottery... you don't have to work ever again.
"Tell you want, Ann! Since is fairly evident that you don't appear even remotely comfortable with that first option of mine... why don't you think about it for awhile. Y'know, like sleep on it. Then... after you had a good night's sleep... you might have a better idea as to exactly what you like to do. Alright?"
With a degree of thoughtful reluctance registering clearly in her voice, Ann Renyolds concurred with her jinnified husband, "Yes. As much as I hate the very though of having to continue to work... y'know, when you're not... I do believe that you're right, Gene. Before I opt to go one way or the other... I ought to take some time and think about it for awhile. Y'know, because... as you have so accurately observed... I'm not altogether comfortable with that equivocating option of your's, Gene! Y'know, because I hate being even the least little bit deceitful with anyone!"
"Yes, hon!", Gene readily agreed, as he reached up, and without any conscious thought as to what he - as a she - was once again doing, began to delicately swirl the nail portion of his newly enameled and well manicured index finger around the satin swathe which concealed the femininely re-sensitized nipple of his left boobie. "If there's one thing you're not! It's a liar!
* * *
After that, as the two of them sat their sipping their champagne, and Gene, though he remained completely oblivious to the fact that he - as a she - was doing so, continued to intermittently fiddlefuck around with both of his newly installed, fully functional and undeniable female primary and secondary sexual attributes, their conversation passed into the realm of inconsequential matters.
They teasing talked about how some of their friends and family might react were they to ever learn the truth of Gene's jinnification and subsequent femmification. Ann, though it was clear that she had no intention of ever following through with her admittedly farfetched notion, joshingly suggested that it might be a lot of fun were she to throw a coming out party for her femmified husband.
"After all, Gene...", Ann drolly taunted, "Now that you've got that dick teaser special of a most bodacious and beautiful bob of built like a brick shithouse body of your's... given the fact that that horny little libido of your's is still as manly as it ever was... y'know, that - in turn - tends to gets those newly perverted and fully feminized love juices of your's flowing whenever you look at an attractive woman... whether you like it to admit it or not... oh, harem girl clad husband of mine... guess what! Technically speaking... being that you're now a girl who digs girls... y'know, in a sexually sense... you're a card carrying, dyed in th wool, lesbian dyke now!
"Yeah!", Gene scoffed as he - as the she that he become - once again aimless and dejectedly plucked at the diaphanous material of the pantaloons he was so scandalously and seductively decked out in. "So, what if I am?"
"Well...", Ann, continuing on with her jest, "Since 'coming out of the closet' is the politically correct thing to do... not to mention... the current rage... I was thinking that it would be a nice gesture on my part were I to throw you a 'coming out of the closet' party! I mean... we could invite all of our friends over one Saturday evening so you could make the grand announcement... y'know, declaring your homosexuality!"
"Tell you what, Ann...", Gene teased back, "You can throw that party of your's on one condition."
"And what - pray tell - is that one condition... oh, femmified husband of mine?"
"That you won't get upset with me if I take it upon myself to harmlessly flirt with a few of our guest."
Ann, unaware that she was setting herself up for the sucker punch, quipped, "Have no fear, Gene. I promise you that I won't get bent out shape if you play Little Ms. Dick Teaser and taunt some of our friends. Fact is... oh, harem girl clad husband of mine... just as long as you keep it innocent and don't let it get to far out of hand... I think it would be a real hoot to sit back and watch you torque the livin' shit out of some of those old neighborhood, beer guzzling buddies of your!
"Who'd you have in mind to come on to, Gene? Ray? Pall? Mickey?
"I know! I know! Before you work those new feminine wilds of your's on anybody, Gene... the guy you should flirt with first is Keith! I mean... if anybody deserves it... Keith does!"
"Ann...", Gene craftily set the hook, "I think you've misunderstood me."
"I have?", Ann innocently replied.
"Yes, dear... I'm afraid you have. You see, Ann... when I made mention of the fact that I would like to flirt a little... it wasn't our male friends that I was thinking about flirting around with. Rather... it was our female friends. Y'know, like Ginny... and Karen... and Heather...
I mean... like you... I've always harbored some suspicions about Heather's sexual proclivities... y'know, especially considering the way she accords herself when she's in the company of other women. I mean... and I'm not the only one who's notice, Ann! Many times... you yourself have... on numerous occasions, mind you... made mention of the fact that Heather's always making some sort of an excuse to either touch or hug another woman! Who knows, Ann... maybe... just maybe... if I play these newly bestowed cards of mine right... I might be able to give her husband Allen a real run for his money!"
"Over my dead body, you will!", Ann flared in a most demonstrative manner.
"If you think that I would ever - Ever! - tolerate you coming on to anybody... especially another woman... Gene! You've got another think coming! If... and it's still a big 'IF'... you ever get to indulge those lesbian couched perversions of your's, little lady... It'll be with me! Understand?"
"Yes, dear... I understand completely.", Gene returned with feigned contriteness.
* * *
"Gene...", Ann prompted as she leaned slightly forward and gently placed her champagne glass upon the coffee table.
"Eventually... in the not to distant future... we're going to have address the fact that you aren't the you that you use to be."
"We are... are we?", Gene sarcastically retorted. "And here I thought we were doing just that!"
"No, Gene!", Ann replied with all seriousness. "You know fully well what I'm talking about!"
"I do... do I?"
"Yes! Damn it! You do!
"Sooner or later... and given our luck... it'll probably be a whole hell of a lot sooner than later, Gene... somebody is going to ask me where you - the male you - are... and I'm going to have to tell them something!
"So... oh, femmified husband of mine... Please! I implore you! Tell me how I'm supposed to handle it when that happens!
"I mean... I can't just keeping coming up with one excuse after another... now can I? Eventually somebody... somebody like your mother... or your boss... or one of your friends is going to demand to know exactly where you are!"
"So, my darling dearest... what do we do to prevent something like that from happening?"
"Well...", Gene began thoughtfully, "When you're right! You're right! We are going to have to do something. And we're going to have to do something soon... probably within the next week or so.
"Trouble is, hon... given the fact that... to the very best of my knowledge as a jinn... which... if I do say so myself... is rather considerable... it doesn't appear like I'll be getting my old, all male body back any time soon... y'know, like in the next couple of millenniums or so. So... due to that persnickety fact... though I've racked and re-racked this brain of mind... y'know, trying to come up with some type of an alternative... I hate to say this: but... if we're going to get past this rather pivotal wrinkle in our lives together... the old me... that is: the old, male me... is going to have to meet with and early and tragic demise!
"Though I have yet to work out all the gory details of just how I'm going to accomplish it... the Gene Renyolds that everybody knew... and hopefully loved... is going to have to kick the proverbial bucket.
Ann, knowing that her jinnified husband was right, but not exactly thrilled with the notion of what he was proposing, questioned, "Gene... is that really necessary?"
"Yes, Ann. I'm afraid it is.
"In fact, hon... I should have thought of it before... y'know, like back when we discussing what we were going to do about our jobs.
"I mean... if I stage some sort of accident... y'know, in which the old male me buys the farm... y'know, like before Monday morning rolls around... that'll take care of everything in one fell swoop! I won't have to worry about going in to work... y'know, because... as far as everyone else is concerned... the old, male me will be dead! And you... as the grieving widow... won't have to go into work either!"
"No!", Ann, her voice registering more than a little consternation, returned. "I'll be stuck with making all the funeral arrangements!"
"Not necessarily, Ann...
"Tell you what! Before I stage the sham of my own demise, dear... you and I will work out a living will... y'know, that'll pretty much take care of everything!
"Besides, Ann... our immediate families will be here to lend you a hand!
"And speaking of our immediate families, dear... since you're adamant about giving this rather convoluted... if not sexually dysfunctional relationship of ours a go... considering the fact that neither one of us wants to sever our ties with our families... I really think that we need to get together with 'em and tell them exactly what has happened to me! A.S.A.P.! Y'know... like sometime tomorrow!
"Then... once we've appraised them of what has transpired... you'll make a wish... a wish that I will quickly rubber-stamp... that will... in effect... place a gag order on all of them... y'know, to insure that they won't be able to tell anybody else about what has happened to me! We'll also tell them about what we're planning... y'know, in so far as the sham involved in staging my tragic and untimely demise. Then... in order to help you play the part of the grieving widow and our respective immediate family members to play the supporting roles of the grieving mourners... we'll have you make another wish that will - in essence - turn the whole caboodle of you into the finest dramatic actors the world has ever known."
"Tell me something..."
"Sure, hon. If I can."
"How are you planning to do yourself in?"
"Well... though it'll cost us one of our vehicles... I guess the best way me to handle my own demise would be to stage some sort of auto accident. I could create some false skid marks... y'know, that would make it look like an oncoming car... that was going way to fast... careened around a corner and... even though I tried like hell to swerve out of its' path... broadsided me... forcing our car over an embankment. "Then... to negate all the hassles involved in the funeral pallor business... I'll fix it so that all you have to do is to hold a very small... very short memorial service for me."
"And just how are you going to manage to do that, Gene?"
"Easily! Once my car has gone over that embankment I made mention of... and starts in to rolling end over end... I'll just arrange to have my car's gas tank rupture... spill gasoline all over the friggin' place and proceed on to catch on fire... y'know, so that my old male body will be... for all practical purposes... completely incinerated."
"What body?", Ann, her voice registering alarm, demanded. "What in the world are you talking about, Gene? "Where are you going to come up with a body?"
"Well... though I'm not sure you really want... or for that matter... need to hear all gory details, Ann... I figure that since I need something to work with... y'know, given the fact that I can't create something out of nothing... I'll just hunt up some unfortunate road-kill... y'know, like a possum... or a raccoon... or whatever... and use my magic to re-shape it into assuming my old, male form.
"But don't worry, Ann. You won't have to look at it. I mean... by the time they put out the fire... that magically re- shape body double of mine will be nothing more that a chard cinder and the only way they'll going to be able to identify the remains of the re-shaped crispy critter road-kill is by the denture work and... since I'm not going to be wearing it anymore... y'know, not with this body of mine... my college class ring. That way, you won't even have to be put to all the inconvenience of having to personally go down to the county coroner's office and identify the remains of my body double."
"How considerate of you.", Ann scoffed.
Ignoring his wife sarcastically couched remark, Gene continued, "Then... after all the rigmarole involved in bidding that old, male body of mine a fond adieu... you and I can take care of what needs to be taken care of... and then... after you hit the lottery... I seriously think that we should consider relocating... y'know, to avoid the hassles involved should we run into some of our old friends.
"Oh!", Gene exclaimed. "I just thought of something else! Your looks! Or... I should have said: these new, enhanced looks of your's!"
"What's wrong with these new looks of mine... oh, femmified husband of mine?"
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! They're perfect! Absolutely perfect!"
"Then - prey tell - what's all the hubbub about?"
"Ann... the problem is: they're too perfect! I would strongly suggest that you might consider toning 'em down a bit... y'know, that is: until we take care of all the loose ends."
Ann, who, to her own astonishment, was tickled pink with this all new and seductively improved body of her's, wasn't exactly thrilled with Gene's timely suggestion. Though she would have like to rejected it out of hand and retain this new bod of a body of her's, she knew, in her heart of hearts, that what her harem girl clad husband was suggesting was - without a doubt - the best course of action to take and that she should do as he advised.
"Gene.. though I hate like hell to admit that your right... oh, scantily clad femmified husband of mine... we're going to have to do something about this new body of mine. So... even though I'd rather not... I tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to meet that suggestion of your's half way. Starting tomorrow morning... whenever we are not alone... I wish that I had a slightly upgraded version of my old body back. Y'know, as in: I want to appear just a smidgen or two prettier than I used to be. However... when you and I are alone... when it's just the two of us... just to drive you and that male libido of your's up the friggin' wall, young lady... I want to be decked out in this new... ultra sexual... ultra sensual... body of mine. Alright?"
"Also... given the fact that I don't want to keep switching back and forth between this new body of mine and a upgraded version of my former one... I wish that... starting tomorrow morning... and continuing over the next six months or so... the upgraded version of my former body undergoes a gradual re- sculpturing... y'know, until it turns into this simply scrumptious, dick teaser special that you've gone and so scandalously and seductively decked me out in."
* * *
"Gene...", Ann once again sought her jinnified husband's clarification.
"If we do decide to relocate... which... by the way... I tend to agree with you that... given the circumstances that we find ourselves embroiled within... relocation seems to me to be a very good idea... However... should we decide to do so... won't that severely curtail our ability to visit our parents?"
"I don't see why it should.", Gene replied evenly.
"You don't?", Ann demand.
"No. Remember, dear... while this new body of mine might be femmed out to the friggin' max now... y'know, equipped with the same sort of female attributes that you yourself have... I've also been turned into a elemental enhanced, lamp tethered and housed jinn... y'know, who possesses a whole arsenal of magical powers and potential!
"In other words... even if we move to the other side of the world... we can pop in on our parents anytime we want to."
"You mean... you can... I guess you could say... teleport the two of us anywhere?"
"Yes, hon. Anywhere your little heart desires."
"Oh! That's pretty nifty!
"You mean to tell me that... if I want to pop over to London... y'know, to see the changing of the guard... we could do that and then pop right back here after it was over?"
"Sure... if you'd like, Ann. I mean... now that I got these metaphysical enhancements of mine...something of that nature that would be a cinch for me to pull off."
* * *
A few minutes later, as the two of them were sitting there, sipping their champagne and eagerly exploring the very real possibility of visiting some the more exotic places that they had always dreamed of visiting, Gene, who, unbeknownst to his own herified self, was once again aimlessly plucking at the diaphanous material of the pantaloons that his lower extremities were so scandalous festooned within, couldn't fail to take note of the fact that his wife's most fetchingly re-sculptured bod of body was being racked by a seemingly involuntarily shuddered and, subsequent to that, even as the shudder's after-quivers began to subside, goose-bumps began to manifest themselves, running all up and down both of Ann's forearms.
"Cold shiver?", Gene inquired sympathetically.
"Yes, damn it!", Ann returned unnerved. "A really weird... icky feeling one!
"This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!", Ann declared vehemently.
"I mean to tell you, Gene... ever since I made that boneheaded wish of mine... y'know, that had me walking a proverbial mile in those silver stiletto high heeled pumps that I teasingly... if not somewhat sadistically... decked you out in... I can't seem to shake the memory of just how horny and turned on I was!
"I mean... as perverted as it must surely sound... I actually wanted to have my way with you, Gene!"
"Tell me about it!", Gene, who's thoroughly male-oriented libido was chomping at the bit to do likewise, attempted to commiserate with his wife's memory induced dilemma. "I'm sad to say: I know exactly how you feel, Ann! Trouble is: while you only have to cope with the memory of what it's like to have a male mind that's encased with a female's body, I'm going have to live with the sheer and utter ignominy of it all for the rest of this new and sexually convoluted life of mine!"
"Gene! I'm so... so sorry! Believe me! You have my deepest sympathy!
"Honestly... I don't know how you do it!"
"Do what, dear?", Gene, seeking clarification, returned.
"Deal with it!", Ann emphatically exclaimed.
"I mean... knowing what the memory of my being motivated by that thoroughly male-oriented libido of your's is doing to me - Still! - I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through, Gene!
"I mean... as much as I hate to admit this... oh, femmified husband of mine... ever since I made that admittedly foolish wish... though I endeavor to stifle them as soon as I become aware that I'm entertaining such lewd, crude and blatantly perverted notions... as crass as this must surely sound... would you believe, Gene... that I am actually starting to have... what I would term... short-lived, mini-fantasies about fooling around with you... y'know, as in: the new and simply scrumptious femme fatale that you've become!"
"You mean there's hope?", Gene teasingly taunted.
"No!", Ann countered demonstratively. "Don't go getting your hopes up... oh, harem girl clad husband of mine! Y'know... because... as I keep telling you... while I might... through no fault of my own... harbor a few lesbian-like fantasies about you and I getting it on together... be advised, Gene: I'm about as far from taking the lesbian-lifestyle plunge as I can be!
"Understood?", Ann demand.
With a sense of regret registering clearly in his ultra feminized, honey sweeten voice, Gene lamely replied, "Yes dear... I'm, afraid I do..."
* * *
Then, having re-acquire her femmified husband's attention, Ann inquisitively inquired, "Are you getting hungry?".
"No. Not especially...
"Fact is, Ann... I don't think we jinns get hungry."
"Are you saying: that... now that you're a genie... you don't need to eat food anymore?"
"No. As far as I know, Ann... I can still eat food. And more to the point... I can still enjoy food! It's just that I don't need food... y'know, to sustain myself... given the fact that we jinns get all the nourishment we require from our mystical, metaphysical aspects.
"Oh! That's interesting! You can eat, but you don't have to eat! That's kind of a nice arrangement to have!
"Trouble is, Gene... while you might not be hungry... I am! Remember! I was right in the middle of fixing the two us lunch when you did whatever you went did... y'know, to get yourself sucked up into this new little brass lamp of our's! And because you did whatever you did... y'know, that more or less turned our lives together into an updated - albeit, perverted - version of "I Dream of Jeannie"... I never got around to eating!
So anyhow... oh, harem girl clad husband of mine... to make a long story short... since I haven't had anything to eat since we made that breakfast stop at McDonalds this morning... I'm famished!"
"Alright, dear.", Gene replied. "We can take care of that hunger of your's right here and now! Just tell me what would suit your fancy... phrase it into a wish and - Shazam! - I'll magically whip it up for you."
"For us!", Ann corrected.
"Alright... for us!", Gene, endeavoring to be agreeable, replied. "You tell me what you'd like to eat tonight, Ann and I'll come up with something that I'd like to munch on. Then, we'll work on the wording of this culinary wish of our's and I'll go to work... y'know, playing the role of the metaphysical chef!"
"No...", Ann mused aloud, "I do believe that... instead of the two of us eating home tonight, Gene... since you owe me dinner out anyhow... y'know, to belatedly celebrate our last anniversary... I was thinking that I'd like to try that new Australian steak-house... y'know, the one that just opened up a couple months or so ago... y'know, Gene... the one that you and I've been talking about going to..."
"Ann!", Gene broke in frantically. "Please! I implore you! Tell me that you're kidding!
"I mean... you are... aren't you? I mean... you're not seriously suggesting that the two of us actually go out to dinner tonight?
"Yes, Gene! I do believe that that's exactly what I'm suggesting.
"But, Ann!", Gene protested.
"But what!", Ann challenged.
"You can't be serious, Ann!"
"And just why can't I be... oh, new little lady of mine?"
"Because...", Gene pleaded.
"Because... why?", Ann prompted.
"No, Gene! I don't know!
"I mean... if this new found reluctance of your's is due to the fact that that you've been magically fitted out with that brand spanking new, bodacious, built like a brick shithouse bod of a body... tough nuggie! Sooner or later, Gene... whether you like it or not... you're going to have to take the proverbial plunge and start going out in public as the woman you've become... y'know, since it's more or less a given that I'm not about to stay copped up in this house of our's until you get up the gumption to give it a go!
"Besides, Gene... no one... save for little old your's truly... is going to take you for anything other than what you appear to be!
"In other words... oh, femmified husband of mine... your fears... or your reservations... or your whatevers... are completed unfounded! People are going to take you for the woman that you appear to be! Nothing more! Nothing less!
"I mean... from my vantage point... you walk like a woman! You talk like a woman! And... there's no denying the fairly obvious fact... given the scintillating proportions of that lovely new body of your's... that you look - every inch - like the woman you've been turned into! So, little lady... even though you might not think exactly like a woman is supposed to think - Guess what, Gene! - people are going to take you for the woman that you've been so underhandedly turned into!
"So... since you'd only be postponing the inevitable... y'know, because... though it might taken a whole hell of a lot of cajoling on my part... y'know... to... shall we say... force the issue... the way I see it... the best thing you can do, Gene is: to just say the hell with it and get it over with! Y'know,... so you and I can get on with our lives!
"Yeah...", Gene began tentatively. "I know - and agree - with everything you are saying, dear. And I do - I really... truly do! - fully intend to venture out with you... y'know, at some point in time... However... be that as it may be, dear... before I do... as you say... take the proverbial plunge... I'd kind of like to get a little more use to this new body of mine before I do..."
"How come?", Ann demanded. "I mean... save for the fact that you keep crassly groping and fondling yourself... y'know, in a very unlady like manner... you seem to me to fully acclimated to that new body of your's.
"Hell, Gene... I wish I was as sure-footed as you are when it comes to wearing high heels! I mean... they didn't seem to phase you in the least little bit! I mean... here I've been wearing heels for years and guess what! I not anywhere as proficient with 'em as you are!"
"You are now.", Gene stated rather matter-of-factly.
"I am?", Ann returned quizzically.
"Yes, Ann... you are. While you might be unaware of the fact that you did so, hon... you said... and I quote, that you wished that you were 'as sure-footed as' me' when it comes to wearing heels'.
"I did. Didn't I?"
"Yes, dear. You did. And... given the fact that I like to see you in heels... I just went ahead and rubber-stamped that inadvertently stated wish your's."
"So... if I'm hearing you correctly... oh, ultra femmified husband of mine... you've gone done something magical... something that'll make wearing high heels easier for me?"
"Yes... Ann. That's it in a nut shell. From here on out, wearing heels will be a cinch for you.
"Hell, Ann... with the metaphysical enhancements that I just made.... though I can't conceive of you ever doing something of this nature... should you elect to do so... you have become so acclimated to the wearing of high heels... y'know, as a result of that last wish of your's... that you could actually go out jogging wearing a pair and they wouldn't phase you in the least little bit."
"Oh!", Ann exclaimed, "That is an interesting turn of events!
"But regardless of all that... oh, new and amply endowed little lady of mine... getting back to the business of you and I going out this evening... y'know, to grab a bite to eat... though I can no longer employ a wish to coerce you into accompanying me... be advised that if you don't go... you'll be one sorry little genie! Y'know... as in: I'll devise some fiendish way to make rue the day, Gene!
"I mean... if you think that harem girl outfit that you're wearing is an assault on that macho, anal-retentive mind of your's... you just wait... oh, herified husband of mine! I swear! If you don't go out with me tonight, I'll deck you out in something so scandalously outrageous that it'll make that male mind of your's cream in the jeans you're no longer going to be wearing!"
Gene, horrified to the very marrow of his femininely re- constituted bones, retorted, "You wouldn't! You couldn't!"
"I could! I would! And more to the point, Gene... make no never mind about it! I will... y'know, if you don't bite the bullet and go out to dinner with me tonight!
"I mean... since you're going to have to do it eventually... why not just do it and have done with it!
"Besides, Gene... even if we do run into a couple of the people we know... given the fact that we both look like a couple of Playboy's drop dead gorgeous center-folds now - Dollars to doughnuts! - nobody's going to be able recognize us in the first friggin' place!"
"True...", Gene found his herified self reluctantly conceding. "I fully agree with everything you are saying, dear... it's just... just... just..."
"Just what, Gene?", Ann Demanded.
With a great deal of hesitation involved in the effort, Gene meekly replied, "It's just that I'm not in any way, shape or form comfortable with the notion of my parading around in public with this thoroughly feminized new body of mine, Ann!
"I mean... I know that I'm going to have to! Y'know... eventually! But the very thought that I going to do something as outrageous as that this evening... gives me the willies!
"If... and it's still a big 'IF'... I do concede to go out to dinner with you - Please! I implore you! - tell me that you intend on doing something about this harem girl outfit that I'm wearing!
"I mean... you're not seriously thinking about having me go out in this getup!", Gene emphasized by once again plucking at the diaphanous material of the pantaloons that his femininely re- sculptured legs were so fetchingly festooned within. "Are you?"
"Heavens no!", Ann giggled. "If that's what's got you all in a dither, Gene... have no fear! I have every intention of addressing that outfit of your's before you and I venture out of the house together.
"Could you be a wee bit more specific, Ann?
"I mean... I'd kind of like to know what I'm getting into if... that is... I do grudgingly agree to this proposal of your's, dear!"
"Sure... oh, femmified husband of mine! I'd be more than happy to give you a quick run down of what I have in mind!
"Fact is... since you WILL be accompanying me tonight, Gene... why don't we attend to your clothes right here and now... y'know, and then we'll be done with it!
"Let me see... I wish for your harem girl outfit to be turned into a pair of jeans and sweater."
Gone was Gene's harem girl outfit. In its' place was a pair of faded, skin tight blue jeans and a simple white, fisherman's bulky knit, turtleneck sweater.
"Alright?", Ann inquire. "Can you live with that ensemble, Gene? Or do we have to come up with something else?"
Gene, having given his herified self the cursory once over, replied, "Yeah... I guess it'll do...
"But what about my shoes, Ann? Won't those silver heels that you teasingly decked me out in looked a bit out of place with these clothes?"
"Yes...", Ann concurred. "I do believe you're right... oh, femmified husband of mine! Those silver heels of your's aren't going to cut it!
"So... that being the case... I wish for those silver high heels of your's to be turned into a pair of black, stiletto heeled ankle boots!"
The floor residing, silver pumps that Gene had seen fit to divest his herified of when he, as a she, had assumed the crossed legged, Indian-like, sitting position, abruptly made the change that Ann had prescribed.
"Alright, Gene... now that we've attended to your evening's attire... how about we tackle mine?"
"I wish that you would change this simply fantastic, dick- teaser special of an outfit that you concocted to... shall we say... showcase this all new and extremely sex body of mine into something similar to the attire we just fashioned for you to wear this evening... save that I'd like my jeans to be of the dark blue variety... y'know, as if I had just bought them and this was the first time I was wearing 'em! Also... instead of a sweater... I think I'd like to go with a blouse and vest combination... y'know, so the two of us won't be dressed exactly the same!"
"What about your shoes, Ann? What would you like me to do with 'em?"
"Well... since you did whatever you did... y'know, to... I guess you could say... enhance my sure-footedness when wearing high heels... tell you what, Gene... let's just leave 'em be for now! Y'know, just to see if what you say is true... y'know, about being able to confidently prance around in 'em now!"
"You've forgotten something? Something important!", Ann teased.
"I have?", Gene was perplexed.
"Yes... oh, femmified husband of mine.... you most certainly have!"
After a moment or so, Gene, having absolutely no idea at all about what his wife was talking about, said, "Okay, Ann! I'll bite! What - Pray tell! - did I overlook?"
"Underwear! You complete forgot to provide the two of us with underwear!
"Underwear!", Gene, Ann noted, was flustered.
"Yes, Gene! Y'know... underwear! Y'know, like bras and panties!"
"A bra!", Gene countered disgustedly. "You're not seriously suggesting that I fit myself out with a bra are you, Ann?"
"Yes, Gene... that is: unless you want those new and rather ample boobies of your's to bounce around... y'know, like all over the friggin' place... oh, femmifeid husband of mine!"
"Shit!", Gene quipped resignedly. "This being a guy decked out in a girl's body sucks!
"I mean... who ever would have thought that I would have to start wearing one of those dastardly, uncomfortable, constricting thing-a-ma-jigs!"
Then, in a much meeker tone of voice, Gene continued on to inquire, "Ann."
"Does this underwear of ours have to be of the frilly variety... y'know, like all lacy an all?"
Ann, knowing fully well that her husband had an aversion to frilly and lacy under-things, figured that discretion was the better part of valor and so, in an effort to make the acclimation process as easy as possible for Gene, replied, "No, dear. It most certainly does not!
"You have my permission to select whatever fabric and styling that suits your fancy."
"Ann. You have my sincerest thanks!.
"Let me see now...", Gene pondered aloud. "If I'm going to have to start wearing women's underwear... I might as well wear something I like. Right?
"So... let's go with something out of the last Victoria's Secret Catalog."
Ann, spurred on by the realization that she was now wearing both bra and panties, took a moment or two to check 'em out for herself. Then, having completed a quick peek-a-boo of a look- see, she proceed on to comment, "My... my... Satin! And silver satin at that...
"I mean... are we being a little self-indulgent here or what... oh, femmified husband of mine?"
"Well...", Gene replied sheepishly. "I just figured..."
Ann broke in, "There's no need to explain yourself to me, Gene!
"I mean... as far as I'm concerned... if it makes it easier for you to come to terms with wearing female under garments... so be it! You have my permission to make any adjustments that you see fit to make!
"Besides... if I don't like what you've concocted for me to wear... I can always have you modify it. Right?"
"Yes, Ann... Yes, you most certainly can!"
"Good! I glade to hear that!", Ann countered.
"Now, Gene... I suggest you put on those demi ankle boots of your's, Gene... y'know, so that you can accompany me into the bedroom... where we can better appraise the results of your magical handiwork in my dresser's mirror.
"No need to do that, hon. If you'd like... all you have to do is to make a wish that will allow me to turn one of our living room's walls into a mirror."
"Oh! That's right! I keep forgetting that you can do that sort of thing... oh, jinnified husband of mine!
"Okay! I wish that one of our living room's wall was a mirror!"
"Granted.", Gene acknowledge as he, as the she that he had become, demurely plunged his all to recently daintified left foot into the second of the two ankle boots and as he, as a she, proceed to pull it home, one whole wall of their living room instantaneously transformed itself into one huge, silverized, reflecting surface.
"Wow!", Ann exclaimed. "That's really something how you do that, Gene! One minute - wall! The next - mirror!
"I mean to tell you! I'm impressed! Really impressed..."
* * *
A moment so after that, as the two of them stood side by side, gazing at themselves in their living room's newly mirrorized wall, Ann, who was thoroughly impressed by what she beheld, proceeded on to say, "You know something, Gene! We could be taken for sister! Perhaps... even for fraternal twins!
"I mean... unless I'm way off base here... I do believe that your body and mine are practically identical!"
"Basically, Ann... you're correct! Save for a few subtle nuances... y'know, such as the coloration of our hair and the variance in our skin complexions... our bodies... for all intent and purposes... are damn near identical!
"You see, Ann... when you made that wish that directed me to substantially enhance your looks... I simply used my own, all new and ultra feminized physique as a template."
"I wonder...", Ann mused aloud.
"And just what do you wonder, Ann?", Gene, who was having a devil of a time endeavoring to re-adjust the way his newly acquired ample endowments were situated within the satin confines of the bra he had magically fitted his herified self out with, inquisitively inquired.
"If you could... or... since it goes without saying that could... y'know, now that you possess the necessary magical where-with-all to accomplish such... y'know, given the fact that you are now a extremely attractive... very feminine looking... wish granting genie, Gene... my question should have been: would you be amiable enough to turn the two of us into identical twins should I wish for such?"
"Hmmm...", Gene's reply was thoughtfully cast. "Identical twins...
"You know, Ann... you may just have come up with something with this identical twins business of your's."
"I may have?", Ann was somewhat skeptical.
"Yes, Ann! I do believe that you may have hit on something that has the potential of... I guess you could say... defusing this rather convoluted situation that this new, feminized jinnhood of mine has imposed upon the two of us!"
"How so... oh, femmified husband of mine?"
"Well... if we were identical twins, Ann... no one... well... almost no one... would think anything untoward about you and I living together... now would they?
"I mean... if we were identical twins... people would pretty much accept the fact that we were nothing more than roommates... and not... as some people might assume... a couple of weirdos... y'know, weirdos... as in: lesbians - she'in and she'in loving - bimbos.
"That's true, Gene...", Ann hesitantly returned. "You're right! Now a days... given all the gay pride, in your face, homosexuality bullcrap that's all the current rage... people... y'know, as in normal people... y'know, the kind of folks that the mass media likes to label as homophobic... tend to think the worst! However... if we were identical twins... I don't think most people would give it a second thought were the two of us to take up living together.
"Trouble is, Gene... everybody knows that I don't have an identical twin!"
"True enough, Ann. However... since it's fully with my purview as a magic wielding jinn to accomplish such... I could... without a whole hell of a lot of effort on my part... circumvent that little fly in the proverbial ointment."
"You could?", Ann queried.
"Yes, Ann. I could.
"First... and only after we run this identical twin gambit of your's by not only your parents... but mine as well... y'know, just to make doubly sure they're copacetic with what we're planning to do... once we get their approval... however grudgingly given that that approval of their's might be... I'll go to work and create all the necessary and pertinent paperwork required to substantiate my being able to assume the role of your identical twin sister. Y'know, as in: I'll create a birth certificate, a social security card, a complete set of school records and all the other sundry crappolla that's required to create a paper-trail of a living, breathing, human being. Then... once I've taken care of that crucial little detail and establishing myself as your twin sister... I'll create a magical sub-routine that will... in a convoluted, non-evasive way... alter the memories of anyone - save for our respective parents and siblings - who has ever known you... which will... in effect... create a bogus memory of me... y'know, as your twin sister."
"You can do that?", Ann excitedly questioned. "You can actually do something like that, Gene? I mean... you can actually dicker around with other people's memories?"
"Yes, Ann! In fact, it's a pretty simple under-taking. Once I institute this magical sub-routine... if anyone who has ever known you were to ever think about you... even in passing... guess what, dear! They will... after a short-lived moment or so of disorientation... remember me - functioning as your twin sister - as well!"
"That's terrific, Gene! Absolutely terrific!
"You mean to tell me that everyone I've ever known... or come in contact with... will remember me as having a twin sister?"
"Wow! That's pretty nifty, Gene!
"I mean... I've always wondered what it would be like to have a twin sister! And now... now that you've become what you've become... oh, femmified husband of mine... I might... if... that is... our parents are amendable to the idea... get to experience it first hand!
"I think it'll be neat! Really... really... neat!"
Then, in a much more subdued and tentative manner, Ann continued on to ask, "Gene..."
"Look! While I fully agree with you about running this twin thing-of-a-ma-jig suggestion of mine by both of our parents first, Gene... y'know, before we actually implement it for real... couldn't we... just for the fun it... y'know, just to see if it's going to work... give it... I guess you could say... a trial run tonight?"
"Sure, Ann... we could do that. In fact, honey... I do believe that's a most apropos suggestion. That way... we can see if this identical twin option of your's is going to work out for us or not.
"I mean... it could prove to be the solution to all the problems stemming out of this all new and thoroughly feminized jinnhood of mine! Not to mention... a real hoot!
"Hell, Ann! Since I'm pretty much resigned to the fact that I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this cockamamie notion of your's that would have the two of us going out to dinner together this evening... maybe... just maybe... if you and I go out of the house looking like a pair of identical twin blonde bombshells... I won't feel as self-conscious as I would have otherwise. Y'know, because I'll know... in my heart of hearts... that people just won't be gawking at me! They'll be gawking at us!
"Y'know... as in: you'll be... in a sense... more or less sharing the load, Ann! And... though I have no logical explanation for why this is... in some strange and very convoluted way... just knowing that... it'll go a long way into helping me deal with all the attention that this new and extremely sexy body of mine is going to end up garnishing for me.
"So, dear...", Gene continued on to inquire, "That begs the question: Do we go out tonight looking like you? Or... do we go out looking like me? Or... do we go out looking like some sort of a composite blend of how we each look now?"
"Oh!", Ann gleefully replied. "I have a choice?"
"Sure, hon... Why not!"
"Well...", Ann was thoughtful. "Since I'd like to keep a recognizable semblance of my former self, Gene... y'know, to maintain... shall we say... a family resemblance... I think it best if the two of us go with my face. However... since I really like that golden tan of your's... oh, femmified husband of mine... not to mention the fact that I've never been all that crazy with this washed out, burn and peel complexion of mine, Gene... let's go with that lovely, California girl-like complexion of your's. Alright?"
"Sure! That suits me just fine!"
"Now...", Ann mused aloud. "What shall with do with our hair...
"I know! Tell you what, Gene! Let's meet each other's hair color half way!"
"Sounds good to me, Ann!
"Oh!", Gene proceeded on to inquire. "How long do you want to make this hair of ours', Ann? I mean... do you want it short... y'know, like your's is now? Or... would you prefer it longer... y'know, somewhere around the length that this new mane of mine is?"
"Tell you what, Gene... since we can always modify it to suit our whims later on... let's go with the longer hair option. Shall we say... something in the order of a mid back length!"
"Alright! Let's...", Gene readily agreed.
"Okay... oh, wifey of mine! All that's needed now is for you to make the obligatory wish... y'know, so that I can do what I have to do to implement the necessary changes, Ann."
Ann did as her husband suggested and Gene, without any hesitation on his herified part, immediately processed his wife's wish-spoken request.
"Wow!", Ann, seeing double, beamed. "You know something... oh, femmified husband of mine! You've got a real knack for this body re-sculpturing business! I do believe...", she continued on to say, as she turned about, admiring her husband's metaphysical handiwork in their living room's newly mirrorized wall, "...that we're both even a smidgen prettier than we were before!
"What do you say, Gene! Since we're identical twins now... how about we go whole hog and complete the image by dressing alike?"
"Is that really necessary?", Gene ask with a degree of skepticism evident in his honey-sweetened voice. "I mean... dressing alike is a little hookie isn't it? I mean... isn't that something that parents do with twins when they're little... y'know, and more or less discontinue the practice as they get older, Ann?"
"Look, Gene! I've never been a twin before! Alright?
"So... while I'm not saying that we'll going to dress alike all the time... y'know, should we opt to go with this identical twin business... oh, femmified husband of mine... for tonight... just for the fun of it... how about you humor me? Okay?'
"Sure, dear...", Gene conceded. "Since you still have autonomous control of what I'm going to wear anyhow, Ann... you might as well go ahead and name your poison! Do you want me to change this outfit that I'm wearing into an identical one to your's... or... would you rather have me change your clothes into ones like you up and decked me out in?"
"Hmmm...", Ann was thoughtful. "I think, Gene... all things considered... I like to go with the subtle simplicity of your outfit over mine. So... that being case... I wish that my attire was same as your's. Okay?"
"Granted.", Gene replied succinctly.
And so it was. The clothes that Ann was wearing immediately, and without any sort of metaphysical heralding effect, metamorphed into exact duplicates of Gene's faded jeans and white turtleneck sweater ensemble.
"Great! We look absolutely - no holds bar - fantastic! Don't we, Gene?
I mean... you've got to admit that the two of us look about as scrumptious as scrumptious can be!"
Gene, still far from ecstatic about having been turned into a knock down, drop dead gorgeous piece of feminine topography, responded in a rather disgruntled fashion, "Yeah... I guess... If... that is... you say so, Ann..."
"Well... I do say so, Gene!"
Then, in a much more sympathetic tone of voice, Ann continued on to add, "Look, Gene! I'm no more happy with the current state of affairs than you are! Given my durthers... I'd much rather things were the way they used to be... y'know, before you went and got yourself sucked into that new little Persian lamp of our's!
"In other words, Gene: I'd much prefer you as the man you used to be... y'know, rather than as this little sexpot of a number that you've become!
"However... since it's as you say... and there's not a damn thing that either one of us can do to change you back into your former manly self, Gene... the most advantageous thing you can do now is to try and make the best out of a bad... if not... disastrous situation!
"I mean... if you give this new life of your's half a chance, Gene - Belive me! - you'll find that being a girl isn't as bad as that male mind of your's is making it out to be!"
"It isn't?", Gene, rendered incredulous by his wife's assertion, felt near compelled to ask.
"No! It isn't... oh, femmified husband of mine!
"I mean... I'm a girl and... if I do say so myself... I rather enjoy being one!
"And so can you! You big lummox of a newly ensconced dick- teaser, you!
"If you can just ride rough shod over that bruised male ego of your's long enough to get past all the ignominy involved in this initial period of sexual disorientation of your's... you'll see, Gene! Everything will iron itself out and before you know it, you'll be taking all this girl-shit in your stride!
"Besides, Gene... while I know it isn't going to be an easy thing for you to come to terms with... if there's one thing I do know for sure is: if you're going to lick this thing... you've got to stop feeling sorry for yourself! So... keeping that in mind - Please! - do yourself a favor! Try looking on the brighter side of things!"
"You mean to tell me that there's a bright side to this mell of a hess?", Gene sarcastically interjected.
"Yes, Gene! There most certainly is!
"I mean... while you might not think so - Believe you me! - if you just give being a girl half a chance... oh, femmified husband of mine... you'll be pleasantly surprised to find out that there's a whole parcel of bennies you can derive out of being a woman!"
"Really! Okay, happy bottom! Name one!", Gene tersely demanded.
"Well... for instance, Gene... if it's really true what you say about your sexual orientation still being as manly as it ever was - Guess what! - all you have to do to get a creep thrill and torque the livin' shit out of that male libido of your's is to play a crass game of 'peek-a-boo... I see you' with that new and ultra sexy body that you've been so ignominiously fitted out with. And... if that turns you on... and you find that you'd like to up the ante... all you have to do is to do what you been doing to your newly feminized self all along! Y'know, as in: all you have to do to get off on yourself is to engage in a little self targeted titty and twat tweaking!
"And, Gene... take it from a certified, dyed in the wool, pillow eater who knows - If you'll pardon the pun! - first hand... you've got the fine art of titty and twat tweaking down pat!
"And guess what... of, femmified husband of mine! Now that you're a woman... you're multi-orgasmic! Plus... when it comes to sex... you'll be happy to hear that your recuperation time... when compared to what it use to be... y'know, like when you were a man... is... for all practically purpose... almost nil!
"In other words, Gene... as long as you don't go rubbing yourself raw down there... you can indulge yourself to your heart's content! Y'know, as in: over... and over... and over again..."
"Yeah...", Gene grudgingly replied. "As loathed as I am to admit this, Ann: you may have a point there. I mean... if there' one offsetting and perhaps, redeeming aspect to this sexual role reversal debacle that I've up and inadvertently landed myself smack, dab, in the friggin' middle of, that crass, autoeroticism shit you've just now mentioned might well be it.
"Fact is, honey... I've always been just a wee bit envious of not only you... but... in a much broader sense... all womankind... y'know, like whenever you and I made love."
"You were, were you?", it was Ann's turn to respond incredulously.
"Yes, dear. I'm afraid I was.
"I mean... and don't you ever - Ever! - go thinking that I didn't enjoy myself, Ann... y'know, cause I did - immensely - it just that I always felt that the pleasure you derived... y'know, during our love-making sessions... by far eclipsed that of my own. And... though I'm almost ashamed to admit this... even to you, Ann... y'know, given how kinky and perverted it must surely sound... I've always wondered what it would be like to experience sex from a woman's point of view."
"Well... oh, femmified husband of mine... tell you what! Tonight... right after we get back from the restaurant and what ever else the two of us decide on doing... y'know, like possibly taking in that movie you and I've been wanting to see... I think that you should invest some time and find out what it's like to be a multi-orgasmic female."
"Ann!", Gene exclaimed. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? Are you actually suggesting that I give myself... for a lack of a better way to put this... a hand-job?"
"I most certainly am, Gene!", Ann was emphatic. "And the sooner you do so... the better!
"I mean... while I might be so far off base that it isn't funny... I really do believe that it would do you a world of good to experience the sexual aspects of this new womanhood of your's A. S. A. P., Gene. Y'know, as in: I think that a good, multi- orgasmic session... even if it's out of necessity self induced... might... while not eradicating all your... shall we call them - misgivings... y'know, that you have about being female... such a session might give you a better insight into some of the more pleasurable aspects of this new femininity of your's, Gene!"
Then, having paused to take a much needed breath, Ann continued on to add, "You want to hear something that's not only crazy... but absurd as well... oh, femmified husband of mine?"
"Sure, dear... shoot!"
"Y'know something, Gene... it's funny... but I find that I almost wish I wasn't so averse to engaging in lesbian activities with the new you. I mean... if I could just get past these aversions of mine... I think it would be a real hoot to do unto you as you have - on so many numerous occasions - done unto me!
"Let me tell you something, Ann! It's a damn good thing that you put the 'almost' in that last statement of your's!", Gene was quick to point out. "If you hadn't employed that qualifier... I'm not sure that I could have restrained myself from rubber-stamping what would have been a bonafide wish otherwise!
"I mean to tell you... oh, wifey of mine! Given the lecherous and disheveled state of this male oriented libido of mine... it more or less goes without saying that you've really got to watch what you wish for, Ann!
"I mean... if you hadn't put that 'almost' in there... though I loathed to admit this... given how balls to the walls horny I am right now, Ann... who the hell knows! In other words, dear... there's a better than even chance that you would be a girl enamored dyke right now!"
"Oh, my!", Ann, upon the realization that she had come within a hair's breath of becoming something that she abhorred, exclaimed. "Damn! You're right, Gene! I've really got to watch myself... given the fact that a silly slip of the tongue on my part could really upset the proverbial apple cart... couldn't it?"
"Yes, dear... it most certainly could! Though I would like to think that I wouldn't take advantage of you... y'know, should you mis-speak yourself... y'know, in matters that directly relate to your current sexual orientation... knowing... with a sheer and utter certainty how much I would enjoy such a lesbian tete-a-tete with you... I couldn't... in all honesty... promise you that I could... or would... be able to restrain myself in the future.
"So... given all of that, honey... just to safeguard yourself from becoming something that is so blatantly abhorrent to you... what I would suggest is: that you make a wish... a wish I will be more than happy to rubber-stamp... that will - in essence - preclude me from processing such a poorly thought out and hastily spoken wish in the future.
"Tell you what, Ann! Though I'm not holding out any hope that this will ever happen... before you allow me to dicker around with your sexual orientation... y'know, and turn you into a lesbian... let's incorporate in this forthcoming wish of your's a stipulation that would force me to seek a second, verbal clarification form you... y'know, just to make doubly sure that you really want me to turn you into a girl-lovin' dyke!
Ann, seeing the merit of her feminized husband's most timely and prudent suggestion, quickly agreed.
"Yes! That should do the trick nicely! Now... Let's me think about the wording of this wish of mine...
"I know! I know!
"I wish... that before my sexual orientation can be altered into that of a homosexual female... you must first obtain a second, verbal conformation that states - unequivocally - that I really want you to change me - your wife - into your lesbian lover!"
"Well?", Ann questioned.
"Well... what, dear?"
"Will that last wish of mine do the trick or not, Gene?"
"Yes. I do believe it will.", Gene replied. "Now... with that safeguard in place... the only way you'll ever become a lesbian is if you really want to become one, Ann."
"Okay! Now that all of that's taken care of... oh, femmified husband of mine... given the fact that I missed out on lunch.... I'm as hungry as all get out! So... I guess what I saying... in a round about manner... is: can we please go out to eat now?
"I mean... it's still early enough! If we leave within the next ten minutes or so.. maybe... if we're lucky... we might be able to beat the evening rush. And if we can manage to do that... we might be able to get seated at a booth. And hopefully... if we can secure a booth... y'know, that situated off to one side or another and therefore, off of the beaten path... that... in and of itself... might go along way into helping to allay some of your more pronounced misgivings about venturing out in the public eye for the first time in that new and overtly sexy body of your's.
"Or... oh, femmified husband of mine... is there something else we have to take care of before we head out?"
"Well...", Gene began reluctantly, "...there is my lamp to consider..."
"Your lamp!", Ann was clearly mystified. "I give, Gene! Pray tell! Just what in hell does your lamp have to do with us and our going out for the evening?"
"Well...", Gene began tentatively. "I'll grant you that there's not much chance of this actually occurring, Ann... but given the way that persnickety law of Mr. Murphy's tends to work... especially in so far as the two of us are concerned... if we leave the lamp here... y'know, and go out for evening... there's always the possibility - however remote and unlikely - that someone could break in to our house and abscond with it. And should that happen... since we're dealing with a whole raft of technicalities here and possession is... as they say... nine tenths of the law... guess what, hon! This relationship of ours... as convoluted and contrived as it may well be... would be... for all practical purposes... over. I'd end up with a new master... or mistress... or whatever... and you - I'm sorry to say. - would be left jinnless."
"Oh, shit! That's right! You're tethered... in some mystical, metaphysical way to that lamp... aren't you?"
"Yes, Ann... Though I wish it were otherwise... I'm afraid I am. Succinctly put: the lamp and I are inseparable! Were it goeth! I goeth!"
"Well... since you seem to be coming up with all the solutions... oh, femmified husband of mine... and since it more or less goes without saying that we're not about to take the risk of leaving your lamp here at home... y'know, where it can get stolen out from under us... please, Gene - I implore you! - tell me what we are going to do about that lamp of your's?
"I mean... there's got to be a better way to safeguard that lamp of your's than for me to have to lug it around with me... y'know, like whenever the two of us venture out of the house together, Gene!
"I mean... while it isn't heavy... after a while, it could become more than a little bit cumbersome and therefore, a real pain in the ass for me to have to deal with!
"And that's only the half of it, Gene!
"I mean... it's more or less a given that I'm going to look like a real, certifiable, first class fruitcake... y'know, walking around in public with a Persian lamp tucked up under my arm all the time!
"So... oh, femmified husband of mine... my question is: what do you suggest we do about it?"
"Well...", Gene began. "I do believe I have come up with the perfect solution."
"You have!", Ann was dubious.
"Yes, dear... I do believe I have...
"What I suggesting is, Ann: that you make a wish that will allow me to re-size my lamp... y'know, so I can reduce it to the size of... shall we say... a charm. Then, once it's re-sized... I can whip up a chain to hang on... y'know, so you can wear it around your neck. Also... while we're at it... since you prefer silver jewelry over gold... why don't you kill two birds with one stone by incorporating in this wish of your's a directive that we allow me to change the brass alloy of my lamp into sterling silver."
"That's permissible?", Ann, intrigued, blurted out.
"Yeah... Sure... No problem!", Gene returned.
"What about the hasp and the chain, Gene... y'know, given the fact that both pose... shall we say... a potential hazard?
"I mean... over the years... I can't tell you how many necklaces I've lost... y'know, because either the hasp was faulty and came undone or, the chain caught on something and subsequently broke!
"I mean... we certainly don't want to take the risk of loosing that lamp of your's, Gene... y'know, should something as simple as that occur! Now do we?"
"No, dear... We most certainly don't...
"Tell you what, Ann! Just to make doubly sure that something of that nature doesn't happen... tell you what I'll do! I'll just use these new metaphysical powers of mine and make the chain unbreakable! Plus, I'll make it one continuous loop.
"Are you saying that the chain won't have a hasp, Gene?"
"Exactly, Ann! I mean... it more or less goes without saying that if I don't incorporate a hasp... there won't be anything to come undone!"
"Well... if you do that... y'know, and don't incorporate a hasp... oh, femmified husband of mine - Pray tell! - how am I ever going to take the darn thing off?"
"Hopefully, Ann... you won't be taking it off a whole hell of a lot. But... whenever you do find it necessary to remove it... you'll just have to wish off... and then... when you want to re-don it... all you'll just have to do is to wish it back on! Alright?"
"Yeah... I guess so...", Ann, after a moment or so of quiet introspection, thoughtfully replied as she proceed on to verbalize the wish that would give her femmified husband the impetus he - as a newly ensconced sheling - needed to bring about the changes that he - as a she - had just prescribed.
"Nice job, Gene!", Ann exclaimed, as she moved in closer to their living room's newly mirrorized wall in order to admired her femmified husband's handiwork. "It looks great! And...", she continued on in a somewhat dubiously tone of voice, "...you can really still use it... y'know, with it being this small and all?"
"Yes, Ann. When it comes to my lamp... size doesn't matter one way or the other. I can still download my metaphysically digitalized disembodied self into it.
"Would you like to see me do it?", Gene offered.
"No, Gene! Not right now! Now... before this stomach of mine starts growling to beat the band... what I'd really like to do is: get going!
"However... aren't you forgetting something... oh, femmified husband of mine?"
Bemused, Gene replied, "No... not that I'm aware of, dear..."
"My necklace, Gene! You've plume forgotten to provide yourself with an exact duplicate of this new necklace of mine!"
"I have... haven't I?"
"Yes, Gene... you most certainly have!"
"Alright!", Ann quipped. "Since it appears that I still have to do everything... y'know, around this house of ours'... I wish for you to create an exact duplicate of this new necklace of mine and place it about that very attractive and aristocratic neck of your's, Gene!"
And so it was. Around Gene's neck hung a miniaturized version of the necklace which adorned his wife.
"Okay! So... are we ready to go... or... is there something else we need to attend to... oh, femmified husband of mine?"
"Nothing comes to mind, Ann."
"Good! Just let me get my purse and then, we're out of here!
"Oh! That's right! You don't have a purse, do you, Gene!"
"No, hon... I sure don't."
"Well... given the fact that you're a girl now... you're sure as shootin' going to need one! So... I wish for you to provide yourself with an exact duplicate of my purse... y'know, and equipped it with a wallet and all the appropriate paraphernalia that we girls like to carry around in one! Alright?"
"What do you suggest I do about my ID, Ann? I mean... if I'm supposed to be your twin sister... my current ID certainly isn't going to cut it!"
"When you're right, Gene... you're right!
"Now that you've become what you've become... I guess the only option that we have available to us is for you to magically create a whole new persona for yourself... y'know, as a female."
"Any suggestions, Ann?"
"Well... for the time being, Gene... unless of course, you've already come up with another name that... I guess you could say... tickles that non-femmified fancy of your's... oh, jinnified husband of mine... you can always retain your given name. However... should you elect to do so... I suggest you start spelling it: J... E... A... N... y'know, instead of G... E... N... E... Y'know, if... that is... that's alright with you?"
"Sure, Ann. Jean.... spelled: J... E... A... N... suits me just fine for now... y'know, just as long as you don't start adding a N... I... E... onto the end of it!
"In other words, Ann... I don't want to start playing your own, personalized version of I Dream of Jeannie to your feminine version of Major Anthony Nelson! Alright?"
"Sure, Jean! If you don't want me calling you Jeannie... that's just fine by me!
"Besides... given the fact that I've had the occasion to know a couple of Jeannies in my time... you'd best believe... given my druthers... I rather not have you reminding me of any of 'em!"
"Okay, Ann... that takes care of my first name. What about my sir name... y'know, since I can't be a Renyolds anymore."
"And just why can't you be a Renyolds any longer, Jean?"
"Because, Ann... if we do end up opting for this identical twin sister business... there's no way in hell we can both be Renyolds... y'know, given the fact that Renyolds is your married name!
"Again, Jean... when you're right... you're right! We can't both be Renyolds!
"Though I know it's going to take some fast talking on our parts, Jean... y'know, to fully convince my parents that this twin thing-of-a-ma-bob of our's is the most viable option that we could come up with... y'know, what with all that's happened today... y'know, with you and your having been turned into a femme fatale of a magic wielding genie and all... I do believe... in my heart of hearts... that when push comes to shove... they'll be more than happy to take you on as their daughter and my long lost twin sister.
"So... even if it's only for tonight, Jean... you might as well use my maiden name?"
"Walker... Jean Walker... ", Jean experimented with how it sounded.
"Okay, Ann! Jean Walker it is!"
"Alright! I wish for you to provide yourself with the appropriate identification in the name of Jean Lesslie Walker."
"Lesslie?", Jean question.
"Yes! Lesslie! I was named after my great grandmother... if you recall... oh, femmified husband of mine! And if Lesslie is good enough for me... as my twin sister... you best believe that it's good enough for you as well!"
"Okay, dear... If you insist..."
"Okay!", Ann proclaimed. "That takes care of that! Now... can we please go?"
"I can't talk you out of this, Ann?"
"No! You can't!"
"Well... since you're adamant about us going out together tonight, Ann... tell me something..."
"What?', Ann countered tersely.
"Now that I'm a woman too... who's driving? Me or you?"
"You are... you big ninny!
"Remember... oh, femmified husband of mine... while you might be a woman now... y'know, fitted out with the same sort sexual equipment that I possess... I still consider you my husband! And in this household, Jean... save on rare occasions... the husband does the majority of the driving!"
* * *
As the newly feminized and magically empowered Jean Lesslie Walker gentlemanly opened the front door of their house so that his identical twin of a wife could proceed him, he - as the she that he had so tragically and underhandedly become, quipped, "Well... oh, little wifey of mine... here goes nothing!"
"Buck up, Jean! Remember... there are only two people in this whole wide world who know the truth of the matter! Me and you! Everyone else will take you for what appear to be! An exquisitely beautiful girl! Nothing more! Nothing less!
"I mean... even though you claim that this new body of your's is still motivated by a thoroughly manly aspiring mind, Jean... there's no way in hell that anyone would ever suspect that you weren't born to this new womanhood of your's!
"I mean... even though this is your very first time contending with high heels, Jean... there's no denying the fact that you walk just like a woman is supposed to walk! Furthermore, you talk just like a woman is supposed to talk! Y'know... as in: your inflections are that of a woman! And more importantly... though you might tend to think otherwise... take it from me, Jean... your mannerism are those of a very self- assured and confident woman!
"In other words... oh, femmified husband of mine... there is nothing - Absolutely nothing! - in this new demeanor of your's that would... in any way, shape or form... cause anyone to ever suspect that you were once a man!"
"Yeah... but...", Jean begrudgingly countered.
"Yeah... but nothing, Jean!
"Frankly...", Ann lowered the boom, "I'm getting sick and tired of you and these mealy-mouthed attempts of your's to try and persuade me to change my mind about the two of us going out together this evening! Look, Jean! I don't want to hear any more of your shit! We're going! And that's final!
"So... unless you want me to do something rash... something that'll... I guess you could say... compound those ill founded misgivings of your's... I strongly urge you to cease and desist and adopt... shall we say... a grin and bear it attitude! Else wise... if you persist in these lame objections of your's... mark my word, Jean... I swear: If you keep it up... I just might make a wish that'll deck you out in one of those skimpy, highly revealing, dick-teaser specials that you're always going all ape- shit over!
"In other words, Jean... if you don't knock off your bitching... you'll force me into making a wish that'll have you looking like some low-life hooker in heat!"
"Ann!", Jean, horrified, exclaimed, You wouldn't! You couldn't!"
"I would... and I could!
"So... if I hear one more discouraging word from you about our going out together for the evening, Jean... make no never mind about it! You'll end up being one sorry little brazen hussy of a genie... if ever there was one!"
Then, keenly aware that she might have come down on her herified husband a smidgen or two to harshly, Ann, in a much more conciliatory tone of voice, tried to smooth things over as she proceeded on to say, "Jean! Please! If I came down on you a little hard just now... believe me! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it the way it might have sounded!
"I mean... though you might not think so... I'm on your side in this, Jean! Believe me! I only want what's best for you! And you know as well as I do... sooner or later... you're going to have to tackle this going out in public business... y'know, decked out in this new, female body of your's...
"And you know as well as I do, Jean... the longer you put it off... the harder it's going to be for you to cope to with it... y'know, like when push comes to shove and you find yourself forced... for some reason or another... into doing so!"
Jean, though he - as a she - did so grudgingly, acknowledged the truth contained in Ann's preceding remarks. "Yeah... You're right, Ann. While I complete agree with you... y'know, about how my postponing the inevitable won't do me a damn bit of good in the long run... you've got to understand that my going out in public... y'know, looking like I do now... isn't something that I... in any way, shape or form... relish doing."
"No... I don't imagine that you would, Jean.", Ann sympathetically concurred. "I mean... if the situation was reversed... and it had been me who had been turned into a male genie... I would probably be even more reluctant than you are... y'know, about venturing out of the house for the first time as a card carrying member of the opposite sex!"
"However...", Ann continued, "...knowing fully well how distraught you must surely be, Jean... y'know, given this disastrous and distressing thing that has happened to you... the way I figure it... the best thing you can do under these rather convoluted set of circumstances that we find ourselves smack, dab in the friggin' middle of... is to: take the proverbial bull by the horns and just go out and get it over with! Y'know, and there by be done with it... y'know, in one fell swoop!
"Besides, Jean... if we're going to follow through with what we said we were going to do tomorrow... y'know, in so far as running out to see our respective parents... y'know, so that we can fill 'em in on everything that's transpire today... and then, proceed on to obtain their approval... however grudgingly that approval of their's might be... for this identical twin/living together option that we're contemplating... guess what! You're going to have to go out then! So... the way I figure it, Jean... in order to reduce... or... shall we say... minimize all the hassles involved in dealing with things that... given your druthers... you'd really rather not have to deal with... when and wherever possible... you need to tackle them one at a time! And going out with me tonight present you with the perfect opportunity to get one of your chief concerns out of the way... y'know, clearing the way for you to address other matters... y'know, as they crop up to bite you on that new and provocative derriere of your's!"
"I hate to admit this, Ann. Your logic is damn near flawless. You're right! Tonight presents me with the perfect opportunity to make my first foray out in public as a woman. Trouble is... while I might look like a woman... not to mention... act like a woman... I feel like some sort of frickin' transvestite... y'know, all gussied up like I am!"
"But you're not a transvestite, Jean! If you're anything... you're the purest type of transsexual there has ever been! Y'know, given the fact that... anatomical speaking... you're now as much of a woman as I am!
"Tell you what... oh, femmified husband of mine! I may just have hit on something that might go a long way in helping you deal with all the ignominy that you're feeling!
"And what - Pray tell! - might this idea of your's be, Ann?", Jean dubiously inquired.
"Remember a couple years or so ago, Jean... when you and I went to Bud and Jessie's Halloween Party... you thought it was a real hoot to go decked out as a big breasted girl!
"Hell, Jean... once we got there... and you got a couple of beers under your belt... if my recollection servers me right... which I assure you it does... you really got into playing the part of a girl on the make... now didn't you? I mean... for awhile there... you were flirting with every swinging dick that came within an arm's reach of you! And don't tell me you weren't! Y'know, because you were! And you know you were!
"Well...", Jean was slow to admit, "It was a Halloween party, honey..."
"True... And you know and I know that you were just getting into the spirit of the evening... but if you could do it then... my contention is: you can do it now!"
"But, Ann...", Jean tersely interjected, "This is different matter altogether! I mean... it isn't Halloween! And furthermore... this girl-crappolla of mine is anything but a masquerade now!"
"True!", Ann readily concurred. "But, Jean... if it'll help you deal with the ignominy that seems to be doing a real number on that manly mind of your's... I strongly suggest that you try pretending that it is Halloween... and that once again... the costume you've selected for yourself is that of a woman's!
"Maybe... just maybe... if you try pretending that you're a guy... pretending to be a girl... you might be able to placate that crotchety old male ego of your's!"
"Ann...", Jean, in spite of his herified self, found his herified self chuckling as he - as a newly ensconced she - replied, "...did you hear yourself just now?
"Do you really think that something as ludicrous as what you just suggested is going to work?"
"No...", Ann admitted, "...not really..."
"Good! I'm glade to hear that, dear! Y'know, because if you did... I've got this nifty downhill ski resort located right in the heart of the mountainous region of the Florida Everglades that I was hoping to palm off on some unsuspecting and naive buyer!"
"Tell you what, Jean... as soon as we get to the restaurant... the first thing we'll do is to get a couple of Pina Coladas into you!
"Maybe... just maybe... once we get a little liquor into your system... you'll be in a much more conduce state of mind to... shall we say... kick back and sort of go with the flow...
"Hell, Jean... once the liquor kicks in - Who knows! - you might actually find yourself taking a little perverse pleasure... y'know, being one of the ogled... y'know, instead of one of the oglers!"
"That's doubtful...", Jean replied, as he - as the amply endowed and smart attired she that he had so innocently and unwittingly become - acting in the role of gentleman he could no longer lay claim to being, dutifully unlocked and proceeded on to open the passenger-side door of his pickup for his body double of a wife.
* * *
"Shit!", Jean expounded as he positioned his herified self behind the wheel of his pick-up truck. "Wouldn't you just know it! I've got to re-adjust my seat! Even with these friggin' high heel demi-boots on... given this re-vamped and down-sized body that that lamp of mind saddled me with... I can just barely reach the accelerator... much less the brake and the clutch peddles!"
Then, as her femmified husband began to re-position his seat, Ann took the opportunity to clarify something that she deemed needed clarification.
"Yes, dear...", Jean replied as he - as the she that he had been turned into - slid the seat that his scintillating derriere was so succulently caressing forward a full three notches.
"While I fully appreciate the gentlemanly curtsey of you opening the door for me... y'know, like you always have... from now on out, Jean... it might be best were you to discontinue that practice... y'know, because that's not the sort of thing one woman does for another woman.
"Also... while I'm thinking about... we both really need to watch how we address one another in the future."
"We do?", Jean, who had moved on to re-adjust the pick-up's mirrors, returned somewhat distractedly.
"Yes, Jean... I'm sad to say: we do! Though I know that it's going to be an up hill battle for the both of us... we've got to get out of the habit of using all those little endearments that we've become so accustomed to using... y'know, like - for instance - dear and honey... y'know, because it wouldn't be... I think the term I'm looking for is: seemly - y'know, for us to continue using 'em."
"Alas, Ann... I do believe you're right on that account... especially so given the prevailing, though perverse, new age McCarthyism of political correctness that's permeated this decadent and severely decaying society of ours'... y'know, that's blatantly Un-american... y'know, in and of itself... y'know, given how it stifles our First Amendment right to free speech!
"I mean... if we're ever going to find solutions to some of the problems that we're facing... we're going to have to be able to frankly and openly discuss 'em... y'know, and not have to fret about who's feathers are being ruffled when we engage in doing so!"
"Jean!", Ann cut in.
"Don't you think you have more than enough on your plate to concern yourself with right now... y'know, what with you and your being turned into a female genie and all? I mean... while it's true that all this shit that's going on in this country of ours' is of extreme importance... and I wholeheartedly agree with you, Jean... that it's every citizen's responsibility to do whatever they can to get us back on the right track... I really think that... given all that's occurred today... you have earned yourself... I think it's fair to say... a dispensation... y'know, from concerning yourself with that sort of depressing stuff... y'know, for at least the next serval weeks or so...
"In other words, Jean... since I feel pretty much the same way about what's going on in this country of ours' as you do - Please! - since you'd be more or less preaching to the choir... let's loose that soapbox of yours'! Alright?"
"Sorry about that, Ann! Damned if my out of vogue sense of patriotism didn't go and get the best me once again!
"Tell you what... though I'm not going to promise you that I won't have a relapse... y'know, because that's well within the realm of possibility... y'know, should we chance to hear something on the news that... I guess you could say... tic's me off royally... I'll try to do my very best to keep myself reigned in. Alright, Ann?"
"That's all I'm asking you to do, Jean. Just give it a rest for awhile.
"Then... once you get past this initial acclamation phase that you're going through... y'know, and are more comfortable with being a female than you are presently... you have my permission to sound off as much you want to, Jean!
"I mean... it's a real shame that I can't make a few humanitarian wishes... y'know, to right the wrongs of the world! I mean... if I could... do you know what I'd like to wish for first, Jean?"
"No, Ann... I haven't the foggiest notion as to what you might want to wish for... So... tell you what... instead of me having to play a long, drawn out game of twenty questions... why don't you just cut to the chase and enlighten me!"
"Well... if I could make a few all encompassing, humanitarian couched wishes... one of those wishes would be to force our elected representatives... both local, state-wide and national... to not only not lie to us... but... in addition to that... I'd fix it so that they'd have to live up to their oaths of office... y'know, as I'd make 'em tow the line!
* * *
'Damn! What in the hell were you thinking about, girl?', Ann mentally chided herself. 'That was a really bonehead thing for you to do! For the very first time since that confounded lamp that he's somehow metaphysically tethered to regurgitated him back out as the stunning sheling that he has so inadvertently become, Jean's mind was on something other than the predicament imposed upon him by this new femininity of his!
'And what did you do? You - very foolishly - put the kibosh on that!
'Now... if you don't come up with something else... y'know, and fast... he's going to revert right back to pondering this lamp induced dilemma of his!'
"Jean...", Ann, hoping that she may have hit upon something that might have a chance of providing a much sought after distraction, broke the brooding silence.
"If I remember correctly... you really like that new BMW two-seater roadster... y'know, the very same one that they used in the Bond flick Goldeneye... don't you?"
"Yes, Ann... I think it's pretty nifty looking little car.", Jean replied matter-of-factly.
"Well... oh, femmified husband of mine... how would you like to be driving one... y'know, instead of this clunky old pick-up of your's?
"That'd be neat!"
"Alright, then... once we get out of our development... I suggest you take the back way over to the restaurant. Then, Jean... once you get to a secluded strip of road... y'know, with... shall we say... woods on both sides... my wish if for you to change this pick-up of your's into one of those spiffy BMW two-seaters?"
"Alright... Pray tell. What color, Ann?"
"I'll leave that decision in your capable hands, Jean. Alright?"
"Top up? Top down?"
After a moment or two of indecision, Ann said, "Well... since I can always make a wish for you to tidy up this hair of ours'... y'know, once we get there... and since it's a beautiful day... let's live a little and go with the top down option!"
"Yeah... let's!", Jean, anticipating the fun he - as a she - would have putting the BMW through its' paces, replied energetically, if not eagerly.
* * *
Much to Jean's surprise, the time the two of them spent at the restaurant went a whole hell of a lot better than he - as the sultry femme fatale that he had become - had ever thought that it would. Thanks to Ann's presence of mind, not to mention, her cajoling, they had managed to arrive well before the dinner rush- hour crowd descended upon the place and therefore, early enough to secure a fairly secluded booth; in the back, located near the corridor which granted access to the public restrooms. Now, while it was true that it was an unsettling experience for Jean to have to contend with, once Ann got a couple of Pina Coladas into his herified system, Jean, though he - as a she - could never quite shake the feeling that he and his look alike wife were the focal point of damn near everyone's attention, began to loosen up a smidgen or two.
Before arriving, by mutual accord, while they were still motoring along in the BMW two-seater, Jean and Ann had agreed that it would be best were they to steer clear of any conversations that pertained - even remotely - to either Jean's sexual re-alignment or his new found jinnhood; knowing, with a sheer and utter certainty, that it would do neither of them any good were someone to inadvertently overhear them talking about such seemingly nonsensical subjects. However, both found that it was darn near impossible to avoid straying onto such subject matter. Every now and again, one or the other of them would slip up and make some remake or other which referenced Jean's new status in life and before either one was even aware of it, damned if they weren't off on a tangent, exploring some new wrinkle of their drastically re-defined relationship.
Besides all the unwanted attention that his most bodacious body was garnishing for him, Jean had another rather pressing problem to deal with. He - or rather - the licentious male ego that was housed within that heavenly re-vamped body that that Persian lamp of his had fitted him out with, was as horny as all get-out.
Though there were many contributing factors, Ann was the root cause of Jean's surging sense of unbridled horniness.
Even though Jean, prior to his lamp invested shedom, had always found his wife extremely attractive, once he - as the female jinn that he had so ignominiously and underhandedly become - had processed the wish that had resulted in Ann's magical make- over, given the fact that Jean had used his own idealized version of the perfect femme fatale as a template for Ann's physical upgrading, Jean found that his male libido was piqued to its' upper thresholds by the new, improved, ultra seductive and overtly sensual version of his mistress/wife's corporal disposition.
In other words, Jean's male oriented, dirty old man aspiring libido was smitten as all get-out with Ann's new body and, try as he, as a she, might, Jean found that he couldn't take his herified eyes off of his wife upper torso and impishly angelic face. While that staunchly male mind of his was chomping away at the bit to have his lewd and lascivious way with his lamp-mistress slash identical twin of a wife, Jean's newly feminized bod of a most bodacious body was responding to his surging horniness in a manner that was extremely troubling to him and yet, in another sense, both excruciatingly pleasurable and intensely enticing.
Though he - as a she - was keenly and demoralizingly aware of the fact that he lacked the appropriate sexual equipment to facilitate his being able to accomplish the act of copulation with his wife, Jean, in the worst friggin' way imaginable, very much wanted to take his nonexistent you-know-what of an outty and vigorously plunge it deep inside of Ann's you-know-where of a delicately and deliciously sculptured honey pot of an inny.
Trouble was, as he sat there, with the booth's table filling the intervening space between the object of his male crazed lust and his herified self, Jean became very cognizant of the fact that his own newly installed you-know-where of a delicately and deliciously re-sculptured honey pot of an inny was vicariously responding to the raging sense of horniness that had fermented, in what he, as a she, took to be an extremely masochistic and malevolent manner, within the crucible of his thoroughly manly libido. So too, were those damnable, upwardly re-sensitized tits of his herified physiognomy responding in a sexually stimulated manner. Mimicking the penis Jean could no longer lay claim to, both of his tits had, what he could only describe as, mini-erections. To put it bluntly, those baby- suckling certified nipples of Jean's herified physique were both primed and ready; not to mention, desirous of being fondled and titillated in the worst friggin' way imaginable. And as a direct result of his becoming all hot and bothered, Jean, to his utter chagrin and dismay, found that once again, his newly installed honey pot of an inny was leaking love juices like a sieve; soaking the livin' shit out the blue jeans and satin panties he was wearing in the process.
Jean, though it took one hell of a lot of will power and self-restraint on his herified part, managed - by hook or by crook - to keep his emasculated, long nailed and well manicured hands from straying to close to those two ample endowments of his femmified form. Time and again, all throughout his and his wife's sojourn at the restaurant, he, as the she that the lamp had turned him into, had to fight hard against the omnipresent impulses that entreated him, as a her, to reach up and delicately cradle and massage those magnificent chest protrusions that had been so contemptuously imposed upon him.
Regrettable, when it came to the omnipresent entreatments that radiated outward from the clitoral epicenter of his all to recently feminized being, Jean didn't fair nearly as well. Though he, here again as the sheling that he had so nefariously become, did so sparingly, given the fact that he could oblige those crassly couched impulses of his clandestinely, every now and again, one or another of hands' middle finger would extend itself downward from his lap and, once fully extended, it would begin to slowly, teasingly and lovingly trace its' way upward along the swath of his all to recently femmified loins; inducing - if you will - some very alien and yet, immensely intriguing, if not erotic, sexual shivers as it did os. 'Damn it all to hell and back!', Jean internally fumed, as he examined and re-examined the sexually induced conundrum that he found his physically herified self embroiled within.
'This is ludicrous! Absolutely ludicrous!
'Here I am! A friggin' cunt! And all I can think of doing is: taking my pecker... a pecker I no longer possess - Damn it all to hell and back! - and plunging it deep up inside of the well lubricated confines of my wife's snug little pussy!
'Trouble is, shithead...', Jean continued on to mentally castigate his on own herified self, '...thanks to that so and so of a lamp that I've innocently and inadvertently gone and gotten somehow metaphysically tethered to... Ann's not the only one of us who's pussy equipped!
'I mean... this is utterly ridiculous! No matter how hard I try... I keep thinking of myself as the humper! Trouble is: this friggin' new body of my is reacting like I'm some sort of nymphed-out humpette!
* * *
Throughout the evening, Jean, consumed as he, as a newly conscripted sheling was with his own sexual identity induced dilemma, remained completely oblivious to the fact that his body double of a wife had her own problems to deal with.
Though Ann Renyolds vigorously endeavored to make the best out of a bad, if not deplorable situation, by enjoying the livin' shit out of her substantially up-graded, Grecian goddess-like physique and the very noticeable, hand and glove like admiration that her substantially up-grade, Grecian goddess-like physique was garnishing for her, she found that as the evening wore on, she was having an increasingly more difficult time trying to come to terms with some very unsettling and persnickety re-occurring memories. If you recall, that afternoon, Ann, in a rather foolhardy effort to gain further insight into her husband's rather convoluted and mind boggling predicament, had made a very foolish, ill conceived and hastily spoken wish. Unaware of what she was getting herself into, Ann had made a wish that allowed her to view life from her femmified husband's rather disconcerting and sexually discombobulating perspective. And though Ann had only shared her hubby's male-minded, female- physiqued outlook on life for the briefest of fleeting moments, needless to say, given the fact that she was a dyed in the wool heterosexual woman, who never once in her life entertained even so much as a spurious and short lived homosexually couched thought, that befuddling and ignominious experience had done a real number on her staunchly heterosexual psychic.
No matter how hard she tried - And you'd best believe that Ann Renyolds gave it everything she had and them some! - she couldn't manage to purge the memory of how she, as a direct result of that inadvertent and hastily spoken wish of her's, had lusted, in a very manly, if not crude and perhaps, brutish way, to poop that newly installed cherry that was nestled so snugly and so smartly within the satin confines of her husband's re- sexualized loins. The very notion that she had briefly entertained the ardent desire to hump the livin' shit out of her femmified genie of a husband distressed her to no end.
All throughout the night, whenever she was assaulted by such crassly couched and personally abhorrent memories, Ann had to keep reminding herself that she wasn't a lesbian! Didn't want to be a lesbian! And that those particular lesbian-like memories of her's were nothing more than some horrendous and horrific fluke and not, as she dearly hope and prayed, indicative of some latent and long repress homosexual urges.
Trouble was, while she was repulsed by those very uncharacteristic memories of her's, Ann found that she was, in a very strange and perverse sort of way, intrigued by them as well.
* * *
As soon as their coquettish, college aged waitress passed out of earshot, Jean leaned forward and as the upwardly arching under-carriage of those magnificent, attention garnishing, twin chest protrusions of his herified physique brushed across the lip of table he, as a she, was seated at, he quitely intoned, "Ann."
Aware that her femmified husband actions clearly communicated the fact that he desired to keep the ensuing conversation as private as possible, Ann mimicked Jean's prior actions and brought her face within a few inches of a visage that was the carbon copy of her own.
"Yes, Jean...", Ann, her voice registering just a few decibels above that of a whisper, responded covertly. "Could I prevail upon you to do me a big favor?"
"Sure... if I can... I'd be delighted to, Jean."
"What I'd liked you to do is... I guess you could say... empower me... y'know, via a wish... to be able to use my magical abilities to take care of a few... what you might call... personal needs of mine."
"And just what kind of personal needs might that be, Jean?", Ann, who's curiosity had gotten the better of her, asked a little louder than was either necessary or, as far as Jean was concerned, appreciated.
"Like... you know...", Jean returned sheepishly, hoping, with a sheer and utter hope, that his wife would get the implied message that he, as the enchantingly embodied sexpot of a sheling that he had so unwittingly become as a result of trying to remove the tarnish from that new Persian lamp of their's, didn't want to have to elaborate on the matter any more than he absolutely had to.
"No, Jean! I don't know!
"Look! Before I give you carte blanche to magically attend to whatever it is you want to attend to, I want you to tell me what you want and why you want it! Else wise... oh, hubby of mine... you can pack sand... y'know, up that pert and perky derriere of your's!"
"Ann!", Jean implored. "Come on! Cut me some slack here! Alright?"
"No, Jean... It's not alright! You've peeked my curiosity! And before I do as you ask... I'd really like to know what all this is in reference to!"
"Well...", Jean began reluctantly, "...if you really must know what all this is about, Ann... I'll tell you."
It's my crotch! It's sopping, ringing wet! And because it is... not only are the panties I'm wearing thoroughly soaked... but so to are the jeans that you've seen fit to have me prance around in!"
"How come? Did you pee yourself or something, Jean?
"No, Ann! I didn't pee myself!," vexed with the notion that his wife would make such a suggestion, Jean countered with more than a hint of ire clearly conveyed in that exquisitely sexy, honey sweeten voice of his.
"Well if you didn't pee yourself, Jean - Pray tell! - why are you wet down there?"
"Well if you must know, Ann! It's this friggin' new vagina of mine! It's leaking love-juices like a sieve!"
"How come?", Ann asked without thinking. Then, before Jean could enlighten her, Ann logiced it out for herself. "Oh! My poor... poor hubby... Your still horny, aren't you?"
"Horny isn't the word for it, Ann! I so freakin' far beyond horny it isn't funny!
Irregardless of the fact that I have the same friggin' knocked down, dragged out body that you have, Ann... y'know, that fairly gushes with unbridled sex appeal... when you consider the fact that this mind of mine is still as friggin' manly as it ever was... don't you think that it's a pretty safe bet to assume that that new and improved body of your's is doing a real number on this frickin' libido of mine!
"I mean... the way you look right now, Ann... physically... you're everything I've always wanted in a woman! I mean... you got the most angelic face I've ever seen and a body that won't friggin' quit!
"Trouble is, Ann... given the fact that your my exact body double... I the friggin' woman I've always wanted as well!
"My poor baby...", Ann empathized. "I wish there was something I could do to help you!"
"Alright, then... though it'll only be a temporary fix.. how about you making a wish that would at least make it possible for me to use my magical abilities to dry these jeans and panties of mine out... y'know, like whenever I deem it necessary, Ann!"
Perplexed, Ann inquired, "But can't just go ahead and do that now, Jean? I mean... why should you need my permission to attend to that sort of thing in the first place?"
"No, Ann. I'm afraid I can't attend to that sort of thing on my own."
"Because of a rather persnickety and convoluted technicality.
"May I remind you, Ann... you have chosen to retained autonomous control over my clothing. So... because of that little fly in the old ointment... the way this jinnhood of mine works... as crazy as it might sound... I find that I am strictly prohibited from finagling around with... I guess you could say... the finished product of whatever clothing choice you have selected for me to be garbed in.
"In other words, Ann... when it comes to any apparel I might be wearing... y'know, as a result of one of your wishes... you retain sole jurisdiction.
"So... since I can't do a darn think about this horniness of mine... which means that it's a fairly safe assumption that this new crevasse crease of mine is going to continue to leak... y'know, like ad infinitum... if I'm going to get any relieve at all... y'know, from all of the wetness I'm contending with down there... basically... the way I see it... it comes down to is this, Ann! On one hand, you can make a wish and grant me the ability to attend to the wetness myself. On the other hand, you can do it for me... y'know, via a wish. However, Ann... if you elect to go that route... be forewarned: I'll probably be hitting you up to do so... y'know, like over and over and over again... y'know, throughout the whole, entire evening. And then there's is always a third option available to you."
"There is?", Ann, bemused, interjected
"There sure is...", Jean quickly pointed out. "You can simply elect to do nothing... y'know, and there by: let me stew in my own juices... so to speak!"
Ann, fully aware that the crotch-dampness that Jean was experiencing on an ongoing and omnipresent bases was only adding insult to injury, asked her herified husband if he, as a she, would be so kind as to please phrase the wish for her. Jean, happily complied and Ann, without any additional hesitation on her part, made the wish that her herified husband sought.
* * *
"Tell me something...
"Is it just me... or have there been an unusually large number of guys availing themselves of the men's room?"
"You know something, Jean... Now that you mention it... I do believe that you might be right. And I whole heartily agree. There certainly does seem to be a lot of traffic trucking by this booth of ours'."
"Fact is, Jean... I do believe that one guy has come by us at least twice in the last half an hour."
"If it's the same guy I'm thinking about... a guy who's wearing jeans, some badly scuffed up cowboy boots and a rather ill fitting pullover sweater... I make it three times, Ann! And it wasn't in the last half an hour! Rather... it was in the last fifteen minutes!
"Do you thing he's scooping us out... oh, twin sister of mine?", Ann inquired sarcastically.
"Indubitable, Ann! Indubitable!"
* * *
A few minutes later, "Ann..."
"How are we going to handle it when - and not if - we are faced with a situation where some guy - or guys - starts coming on to us... y'know, trying to pick us up or something?"
In an effort to pull her femmified husband's chain, Ann sheepishly replied, "Are you inferring that a pretty, unattached, single girl like you doesn't want to be picked up by some nice young man, Jean?"
"Bite your tongue, Ann! Bit your tongue...
"Look! I'm being serious here, Ann!
"Having never been a freakin' girl before, Ann... it more or less goes without saying that I have absolutely no friggin' idea how to handle that kind of situation!"
"Well...", Ann was quick to point out, "...neither have I, Jean!
"Remember! It's been quite a few years now since either you or I have been a members in good standing of the dating scene! And due to that rather pertinent fact... given all the raft of political correctness that's so prevalent now a days... things may have drastically change... oh, femmified husband of mine!
"I mean... you and I have been together since what? Our freshman year in college! And that's gotta be... at least a good fifteen years or so ago!
"I other words, Jean... I'm so out of practice... it isn't funny!"
"Well...", Jean countered, "... while you might be a little out of practice, Ann... you've got to remember something! I'm a friggin' neophyte at this girllie-whirllie shit! And more to the point! While I'll grant you that I might appear to all the world to be the focal point of some swinging dick's wet dream come to life... make no never mind about it, Ann! Irregardless of this built like a brick shithouse body that I've been so ignominiously and underhandedly fitted out with... I still think of myself as the man I can no longer lay claim to being!
"So, Ann... I guess what I'm saying is: when it comes to men and how we are going to handle 'em... y'know, when they try to put the friggin' make on us... y'know, which... given the way the two of us look... it's more a question of when and not if... since I haven't the foggiest notion as to how to deal such situations... tell you what I going to do! I going to let you handle 'em!
"Y'know... as In: I'm going to defer to you when and wherever possible!"
"You are... are you?", Ann good naturally scoffed.
"Yes, Ann... I am!"
Teasingly, Ann Renyolds proceeded on to say, "Maybe you ought to reconsider doing that, Jean."
Puzzled, Jean asked, "And just why would I want to do that, Ann?"
"Because, Jean... I could get all flustered and say something on the order of: '...while I'm not interested...' y'know, in striking up a relationship, '...my twin sister here might well be. In fact..', I could go on to inform the guy, '... that my sister has been sitting here... bending my ear... telling me how much of a stud she thinks you are... and how much she'd like to go out with you...'."
"Ann! You wouldn't! You couldn't!"
"No! Fear not, Jean! Though I'd be severely tempted... y'know, in a perverse and perverted sort of way... there's no way I would ever do something like that to you!
"However... if you put the onus on me to deal with those kinds of situations... it would serve you right if I did... y'know, just to teach you and that pert little new tush of your's a lesson!"
"Alright, Ann... I promise: I'll do whatever I can to help... y'know, because there's no way I want to ever be pawed or manhandled by one these egotistical, god's-gift-to-women kind of anal retentive so-and-sos.
Then, after a moment or so of introspective thought, Jean quipped, "Hmm... Y'know something... That might just work..."
"What? What might work?", Ann, who's interest was piqued, intoned.
"I was just sitting here... Thinking! When... all of a sudden... it hit me!"
"What? What hit you, Jean?"
"An idea! A brilliant... if I do say so myself... idea!"
"Well tell me what it is!", Jean impatiently demanded.
"Well... I'm a jinn. Right?"
"Yes!", Ann encouraged. "That you are!"
"That means... I've got all this magical potential just waiting in the wings!"
"Well... I was thinking that if you could make another wish... a wish that would grant me the ability to use this magically potential of mine... y'know, like whenever some swinging dick takes it upon himself to hit on either one or the other of us... I could come up with something that... I think it's safe to say... would quickly and expeditiously dissuade him of his foolishly contrived notion."
"You've got me intrigued, Jean. Tell you what! Why don't you fill me in on what you have in mind... y'know, should such a situation arise... and... if I like what I hear - Tell you what I'll do! - I'll process that wish of your's. A.S.A.P.!
"Sounds good to me."
"Okay! So out with it! Tell me what you have in mind, Jean!"
"Well...", Jean began, collecting his thoughts as he, as a she, did so, "...I was thinking that I could contrive any number of things to... shall we say... discourage some guy from coming on to either one or both of us.
"The first idea that pooped into this new and fully feminized brain container of mine... as crass and diabolical as it might sound at first... has some real potential... y'know, to my somewhat discombobulated way of thinking. What I had in mind was... when faced with a situation where some smooth talking son of a bitch takes it upon himself to hit on one or the other of us... was that I could cause him to have a massive... instantaneous... premature ejaculation."
"You would... would you?", Ann chuckled.
"Oh, yeah! I'd do a real number on him! I'd make him shoot his sperm all over the place! Y'know, as in I'd turn his underwear into one soggy... sticky... gooey mess! Y'know, that would in turn, embarrass the livin' shit out of him!
"Or... let's say... y'know, just for the fun of it... that we are approached by a pair of swinging dicks... y'know, who have full intentions of laying some of their smooth taking bullcrap on us...
Well... just for a change of pace... I was thinking that instead of causing the two of them to have premature ejaculations... I could turn them into a couple of limp-wristed faggots... y'know, who find that they - all of a friggin' sudden - are ape-shit in love-lust with one another... y'know, so much so that they just up and forget all about trying to pick the two of us up."
"Jean! That's fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!
"But tell me! Please! You're not planning on leaving them hung-up on each other... are you?"
"No... not really! I mean... I could! But... that wouldn't be a nice thing for me to do... now would it, Ann?"
"No, Jean! It most certainly wouldn't be!"
"Okay! Tell you what I'll do... y'know, should I ever turn some would be suitors of ours into a couple of limp-wristed fags, Ann... I'll rig this would be homosexuality inducing spell of mine in such a way that it will be negated the first time the two of 'em kiss one another full on the lips. Alright?"
"Sure...", Ann replied. "Whatever tickles your fancy, Jean!
"I just didn't want either you or I to be responsible for turning a couple of straight guys into gay-birds... y'know, for the long haul.
"As long as it's only going to be a temporary fix... I can live with it! However... just so you know, Jean... were it to be a permanent condition... I wouldn't be as inclined to go along with it. Okay?"
"No problem, Ann! Given all the shit I'm contending with... y'know, as a direct result of this new condition of mine - Rest assured! - there's no way in hell that I want to screw up anybody else's life... y'know, the way mine is screwed up... via the use and abuse of these new metaphysical powers of mine!
"I mean... while I don't mind fiddle-fucking around with people... y'know, who fully deserve to be fiddle-fucked around with... be advised, Ann... that I draw the line when it comes to making the changes I induce permanent! As long as we keep these magical tinkerings of mine on a temporary, short-lived bases... you'll find me a willing participant.
"I mean... there's no way in hell I would ever allow those two gay-birds... y'know, that we were hypothetically just discussing to... shall we say... go Greek and back-door one another."
"Good! I'm glad to hear that, Jean! Y'know... because like you... I don't want things to get to far out of hand either!
"Oh!", Jean exclaimed. "Guess what, Ann! I just may have hit on something that'll put the kibosh on guys trying to come on to us... y'know, like in one fell swoop!"
"Yes, Ann... I do believe that I may have!
"Tomorrow... or... as soon as it becomes convenient for the two of us to do so... we've got to hit a pet store, Ann!"
"And just why do we have to go to a pet store, Jean?"
"To pick up a couple of gerbils... or guinea pigs... or something of that nature..."
"And just why - Pray tell! - would we want to do something like that... oh, femmified husband of mine?"
"So that I can play Fairy Godmother to your Cinderella!"
"What in the world are you talking about, Jean? Stop being so cryptic and just tell me what you planning doing with these two critters that you want us to purchase!"
"Well... if you remember... to facilitate Cinderella's going to the ball... her fairy godmother... having first turned a punkin into a carriage... proceed on to change those mice and a couple other animals that were... I guess you could say... handy... into a whole sundry of things... y'know, like... for instance... a coachman and footman... not to mention a team of horse to pull Cinderella's carriage!"
"Yeah... so...", Ann, still unsure as to where her jinnified husband was going with this rather convoluted explanation of his, gentle prodded.
"Well... the thought hit me... y'know, like a ton of bricks... that if we had a couple of critters at our disposal... y'know, like a pair of gerbils... or guinea pigs... or whatever ... I could transform them into a couple of real muscle bound hunks... y'know, to act as our escorts whenever we want to go out somewhere... y'know, where we might conceivable run the risk of guys trying to pick us up.
"I mean... no swinging dick in his right mind is going to try putting the make on us if we are in the company of two... shall we say... handsome and rather ruggedly built male escorts... now are they?"
"No...", Ann admitted, "You're right about that, Jean! Most guys will be intimidated as all get out and opt to just leave us be!"
"And here's the good part about all of this, Ann! We wouldn't have to interact with these so called 'escorts' of ours' anymore than absolutely necessary!
"Basically... the way I would set the whole thing up... these humanized critters of ours' would behave as perfect gentlemen... y'know, speaking only when spoken to!"
"Hmm...", Ann thoughtfully murmured, as mulled Jean's proposal over in her mind. "You know something! As farfetched as this proposition of your's is... it may have some real potential, Jean... y'know, once we work out all the details!
"However... since I'm not... what you might call... overly fond of hairy little rodents, Jean... do you think we could substitute a pair of rabbits... y'know, instead of using either gerbils... or guinea pigs?"
"Sure, Ann. No problem.
"Fact is... down the road apiece... once we figure out what we're going to do... y'know, after you hit the lottery big time... since you've always wanted us to get a dog... and... if my recollection serves me correctly... which I assure you it does, Ann... since you're partial to labrador retrievers... tell you what! Instead of us getting one lab... let's go whole hog and get two... y'know, and then... instead of using rabbits... we can use the labs to play the part of our bogus boy friends."
"Sure... I guess we could do that...", Ann replied tentatively.
"Something wrong?", Jean, having taken note of a hesitant inflection in his wife's voice, inquired.
"No... not really...
"Just what, Ann.", Jean prompted.
"It's just that I had always fancied a female lab... y'know, over a male one... y'know, because of a female's calmer disposition."
"Okay! So we get two females!"
"Won't that cause a problem for you, Jean... y'know, when you turn them into our bogus boy friends."
"I mean... transsexuallizing something is a piece of cake for these new metaphysical powers of mine!
"Truth be told, Ann! About the only animate being that I am prohibited on pulling a presto-changeo, guyo-girlo... or girlo-guyo on is... guess who!"
"Yourself...", Ann, obligingly, filled in the blank.
"You've got it, Ann! You move to the head of the class!
* * *
"Jean...", Ann intoned thoughtfully, having first savored a spoonful of her sinfully delicious hot fudge sundae.
"Yes...", Jean replied, as he, as a she, took his fork and used it to sliced off a small wedge of the cherry cheesecake that he had ordered as a tasty adjunct to his customary after dinner cup of coffee.
"Tell me about this lamp of your's."
"Sure, Ann... what - specifically - would you like to know about it?"
"Well... for starters, Jean... why do you - as a genie - need one to begin with?"
"There are a whole slew of reasons, Ann... but to put it as simply and succinctly as possible... my lamp serves as: one... a repository... and two... it functions as sort of a focal point... y'know, through which the elemental part of this new being of mine can channel the metaphysical where-with-all to accomplish the magical aspects involved in wish fulfilling."
"Alright... That's more or less the way I had it figured, Jean. But tell me. Are all genies... or as you term this new, elementally enhanced self of your's... jinns... housed in lamps like your's? Or... are some housed in bottles... y'know, like on the sixties' sitcom 'I Dream Of Jeannie'?"
"Generally speaking, Ann... the sorcerer-artisans who trapped elemental spirits and merged those captive entities with... what I guess you could call... y'know, for a lack of a better way to put it... a human host... y'know, to create magic wielding jinns like myself... used either lamps like mine or... to a lesser degree... bottles. However... in a pinch... or when directed to do so by the person who had commissioned the undertaking in the first friggin' place... these sorcerer- artisans... y'know, of which I speak... could use almost anything that was handy... y'know, as long as the item met with certain specifications..."
"And what - Pray tell! - might those certain specifications be, Jean... if... that is... you don't mind my asking?"
"Certainly not, Ann! I don't mind you asking in the least little bit!
"Basically... the containment vessel had to be just that - a vessel... y'know, that pre-existed in this corporeal dimension of ours. Size didn't matter one way or the other. The selected object just had to have a hollowed out interior... y'know, with a single means of ingress and egress."
"Oh! That's interesting...", Ann commented somewhat distractedly as she continued on to add, "But tell me something else, Jean."
"Sure... If I can."
"Could I... should I elect to do so... command you... via a wish... to... I guess you could say... relocate... y'know, to another repository of my choosing?"
"Yes, Ann. That is permissible. You could... though I don't know why you would... direct me to relocate my metaphysical elements to some other vessel."
"That's interesting... Very, very interesting...", Ann mused.
"Tell me something else... oh, femmified husband of mine."
"Does this containment vessel of your's have to be an inanimate object... or... could it be an animate object?"
"Ann!", Jean, who was not only curious as all get-out, but mildly alarmed as well, questioned. "Just where in hell are you going with this?"
In a tone which clearly conveyed the fact that she wasn't about to be distracted or deterred by her femmified husband, Ann ignored Jean as she proceeded on to once again ask the very same question that she had asked before.
"Jean! I repeat! Does this containment vessel of your's have to be an inanimate object... or... could it be an animate object?"
"It can be either...", Jean, his sultry, honey sweeten voice registering a sense of resignation, replied meekly.
"Ann!", he, as the sheling he had become, implored.
"Just what in hell are you getting at here?"
"Well... though I know that we've done everything we could do to safeguard this lamp of your's from being either lost or stolen, Jean... I'm still very unease about it.
"So... given all that you just told me... y'know, about your lamp and all, Jean... I was thinking that it might be advantageous for me to direct you to relocate this metaphysical whatever-you-want-to-call-it of your's and have you house it in one of my body cavities.
Jean, endeavoring to get a handle on what his wife was suggesting, sought clarification, "By body cavities, Ann... do you mean something in the order of an ear canal... or a sinus... or something of that nature..."
"Yeah... sort of...", Ann hedged coyly.
"Could you perhaps be just a wee bit more specific, Ann... y'know, so that I have some idea of what you're talking about here!"
"Well... while I know this is going to sound more than a little vulgar and therefore, somewhat distasteful... if, that is: you'll pardon the pun... the body cavity that I had in mind, Jean... was my vagina."
Jean was incredulous. "Your vagina! You want me to use your vagina as my corporeal containment vessel!"
"Yes... that is: if it's feasible! I think my vagina would be the perfect place for you to go... y'know, when you have to go and do whatever you have to do to... I guess you could say... replenish yourself, Jean!
"I mean... for starters... I not going to inadvertently misplace my vagina... now am I? Plus... there's absolutely no way that anybody is going to be able to abscond with it either!
"True! There's always an outside chance that I could be physically violated.", Ann admitted. "But with you and those awesome powers of your's on hand to protected me from the advent of that ever occurring... I do believe that we can pretty much disregard that possibility out of hand. And should someone ever try... y'know, to forcible have their way with me... I think we can safely assume that he'll end up as one sorry little son of a bitch!"
"You've got that right, Ann!", Jean, putting his own two cents worth in, as gruffly as he, as a she, could manage with that new, sultry and unquestionable sexy voice of his, seconded his wife's sentiments. "If anyone ever attempts to molest you in any way, shape or form... oh, wifey of mine... you'd best believe that they are going to rue the day they ever tried!
"I'll... I'll... I'll...," Jean stammered.
"I'll do unto them as that damnable lamp of mine did unto me! I'll tailor the punishment to fit the crime!
"In other words, Ann... I'll turn the friggin' bastard into a big breasted, nymphed-out slut... y'know, if there every was one! Then... just to add insult to injury... I'll make it so that this bastard that I have turned into bitch is so physically addicted to sex that he will be forced into having that new pussy of his reamed out on... shall we say... an hourly bases! Y'know... for the rest of his friggin' life!"
"My! My!'" Ann, placing a comforting and consoling hand on top of one of Jean's, good naturally teased. "Haven't we become little Ms. Vengeful...
"But anyhow,... getting back to what we were talking about, Jean... I guess the real impetus behind this inquiry of mine is do to the persnickety fact that... now that you've become what you've become... the more I think about it... the more I realize just how much I'm going to miss feeling your you-know-what of a male appendage... y'know, crammed up inside of me. So... given all of that malarkey of mine... I was thinking that though it might be as kinky and perverted as all get-out... I'd kind of like to know that when your not with me... y'know, in this ultra sexy, femmed-out physically manifestation of your's... that... though you've been... in a manner of speaking... metaphysically digitalized... your essence... or what ever you want to call it... is snugly nestled up inside of me...
"So... I guess the question is: is what I'm suggesting feasible, Jean? And.. if it is feasible... I guess my next question would then be: if I wished for such... would you be amenable to it?"
"Yes, Ann... what you are suggesting... as bizarre and as perverse it might sound at first... is entirely feasible. And, yes... your logic is right on the money. Were we to relocate my temporal repository to your vagina... for all practical purpose... we reduce... if not out right eliminate the possibilities of losing... misplacing... or... having that little lamp of mine stolen.
"Now... as to whether or not I be amenable to what you are suggesting... the answer is: yes. If you make the wish, Ann... I will oblige you and go along with it."
"You will!", Ann was astonished.
"Sure... I mean... while my taking up residence in your vagina is going to take a little getting use to... y'know, on both our parts... the way I figure it... as perverse and perverted as this suggestion of your's might sound initially... if I could see my way clear to getting past all the hang-ups I use to have about engaging in what I thought to be the amoral and despicable act of cunnilingus... I can be obliging and do this for you as well.
"Besides, Ann... I have complete faith in you. I know that if either one of finds this relocation of mine objectionable... y'know, in any way, shape or form... you'll make a wish to put things back the way they use to be. Right?"
"Yes, Jean. You have my word on it! If either of us find what I've suggested to be... shall we say... untenable - Have no fear! - I will undo it quicker than you can say, 'Whoppie Goldberg stared in the movie 'Jumpin' Jack Flash'!."
Then, after a moment or so of silent, introspective thought, Ann sought some clarification.
"Will I experience any pain or physical discomfort if I do make this wish that I'm toying around with making?"
"No. I can assure you, Ann. There'll be no pain involved. Neither... I should add... should you experience any sort of physical discomfort. However... you probably will feel... for a lack of a better way to put this... a sort of subliminal presence... y'know, like whenever I'm in residence.
"But... though you will... y'know, experience a sort of subliminal presence of my being nestled snugly up inside of you... rest assured, Ann... it should be both a comforting and pleasurable experience... and it will in no way debilitate you.. y'know, from doing the normal things you do.
"In other words, Ann... while you will be aware of my being there... y'know, metaphysically swirling and twirling around up inside of your vaginal canal... you will... once you get use to it... be able to function at optimum levels... y'know, much the way you do now... save that you'll feel... for a lack of a better way to put this... a very cozy and self-satisfying warm-fuzzy kind of feeling."
"Yes, Ann. If I'm right about this... which... I do believe that I am... my presence up inside you will... more than likely... keep your sense of horniness at... shall we say... a low... yet very manageable simmer. However... and I think you ought to be aware of this... y'know, up front, Ann... y'know, like before you commit yourself to anything that you might come to regret... please be aware that anytime I... in this over sexed physical manifestation of mine... employ magic... y'know, to accomplish something or other... you will feel a very pleasurable surge coursing along the full length of your vaginal canal."
"Really!", Ann beamed. "That's kind of neat... y'know, in a kinky... yet nifty... perverted sort of way...
"If I'm hearing you right, Jean... you're saying that anytime you use magic... I'm going to experience... for a lack of a better way to put this... a sexual jolt?"
"Yes, Ann... there's an extremely high probability that you will."
Delighted with the prospect, Ann replied, "Oooo... I'm kind of looking forward to that experience...
"But tell me something, Jean."
"Sure, Ann... if I can."
"If I do make this wish... how do I get you to... shall we say... de-materialize... y'know, so that swirling vortex that you turn into can enter me?"
"Basically, Ann... you just dismiss me. You let me know that you have no further need of my services... y'know, for the time being and I'll take care of the rest."
"Alright! I can think I live with that, Jean."
"Okay! So... you're snugly tucked up inside of my you- know-what... and it comes to a point where I want to summon you forth... tell me... oh, jinnified husband of mine... how do I go about doing that?"
"Well... when we process the wish that will relocate my temporal repository to your vagina, there'll be a whole shit-load of options that we'll have to run over... and one of them will have to do with exactly that.
"In other words, Ann... you will get to specify the means of recalling me and you can selected any means that might tickle that fancy of your's.
"In fact... you could... though you probably won't want to go this route... elect to tickle your own fancy, Ann... y'know to summoning me forth..."
"Smartass!", Ann quipped good naturally. "If you think for one moment that I would stoop so low as to play with my own clitoris in order to summon you forth... oh, femmified husband of mine... you've got another think coming!
"Tell you what, Jean... how 'bout I just rub my tummy... y'know, like three times in a circular, clockwise motion... or something like that..."
"Make it your right boobie and you've got a deal, Ann!
"However... if you really are serious about relocating my temporary repository, Ann... I suggest you get on the stick and do it soon... y'know, like in the next few minutes or so!"
"How come?", Ann inquired.
"Because, Ann... I've about reached the extent of the time allotted me in this present physical manifestation of mine and I've got to... I guess you could say... re-charge myself."
"You mean you've got to do that right now?"
"No... not right this second! But, yes... whether you dismiss me or not, Jean... in the next couple of minutes... I'm going to have to de-materialized myself and return to my corporeal repository for a little R&R.
"So... if you're really serious about this vagina business of your's, Ann... I strongly suggest that we get crackin' on that wish of your's! Else wise... since I won't be able to use the table to... shall we say... clandestinely shield the spectacle that my de-materialization will no doubt create... I'm sure as hell going to attract a lot of attention when push comes to shove and I'm forced to de-materialized and funnel myself - twister like - into that charm-size lamp that's hanging so becomingly around that stylishly aristocratic neck of your's... oh, sham of a twin sister of mine."
Ann, operating under the gun of the rigidly imposed time constraints placed upon her by her jinnified husband's imminent de-materialization, prudently did as Jean had suggested. Under Jean's coaching, Ann not only made the wish that would remove her femmified husband's temporal repository from the lamp's innards and re-install it within the satin confines of her very own vagina, but proceed on to address the various options that he, as a she, had made passing mention of... y'know, but a few short moments before.
Truth be told, Ann's wish made it in just under the proverbial wire. No sooner had the two of them finished up with the wish, when Jean alerted his look-alike, twin-sister of a wife that his de-materialization had automatically been triggered.
Knowing that she had but a precious moment or so, Ann quickly queried, "How long, Jean? How long before I can summon you forth again?"
As he, as the sheling that he had so ignominiously become, felt his feet and the magically concocted stiletto heeled demi- boots that ensconced them begin to come apart at the metaphysical seams, Jean leaned his thin waisted, amply endowed torso over, as if to scoop out the floor beneath the table and managed, by the nonexistent hair of his coquettishly re-sculptured chinny chin chin, to utter a guttural, choked-off and gurgled response, "I not quite sure, Annnn... I would guess... somewhere in and around the area of fifteen minutes or soooo... "
Though Ann could only see a scant portion of the upper crest of her femmified husband's left arm, her view blocked by the intervening table top as it was, it still amazed her to no end to see Jean's bulky knit sweater and the arm it so fetchingly encased metamorphose into a swirling whirligig of amorphous, metaphysical matter. Knowing, with a sheer and utter certainty that, were she to glance under the table, she would behold the funnel like will-o'-the-wisp thing-of-a-ma-bob that her jinnified husband had become as a means by which he, as a de-materialized sheling, was transported to and fro his corporeal based repository, Ann's whole body reflexively tensed, bracing itself for what was sure come next. Then, even as Ann was mentally chiding herself to calm down and just try like hell to relax, she was severely startled when her vagina, acting as if on its' own volition, began to create, what she could only internally describe to herself as an inwardly drawing suction like whirlpool emulating thing-a-ma-jig.
'What the hell!', Ann, her mind unable to adequately cope with all the mind-blowing nuances of what was going on, clamored internally to her extremely befuddled self. 'My vagina! It's been turned into some sort of metaphysical Electrolux-like vacuum cleaner!"
Beneath the table, the downward reaching apex of Jean's swirling, vortex-like, atomized essence, felt the compelling, magnetic-emulating influence of his newly re-located corporeal repository beckoning him home. And as that tapered apex of his amorphous being did so, it dipped smartly under the cuff of Ann's jeans and, drawing the rest of Jean's digitalized essence along in its' wake, began to flow smartly and steadily upwards, passing the upper extent of Ann's demi-boots and coming into direct contact with the silken smoothness of Ann's lower calf.
Startled by initial contact of Jean's disembody being with the luxurious skin of her lower left leg, Ann's whole body experienced; what was on one discombobulated level of her bifurcated perception, an involuntary shiver; was on the other, an oddly and unexpected erotic one. And as her leg became more envelope by her jinnified husband's upwardly flowing atomized essence, the erotic sense of what she was experiencing began to compound in upon itself, doubling and re-doubling exponentially, driving her absolutely, no holds bar bonkers in the process.
'Jean!', Ann reeled, her frazzled and sexually agitated mind barely managing the thought processes necessary to find the correct verbiage to express the sentiments she was, at that precise moment in time, contending with. 'What in the world are you doing to me! You're driving me crazy! Absolutely, no holds bar crazy!'
Ann, though she never - ever - would have believed it possible, would soon become cognizant of the fact that she was only experiencing the precursor to the damn near debilitating sense of ecstasy that she would feel as Jean's swirling ethereal essence passed beneath the lip of the scandalously skimpy, silvery hued, satin briefs encasing her loins and began to teasingly filter through the smart little veed swath of her vaginal patch, only to flow ever so lovingly over and around the clitoral nub which marked the epicenter of her sexual being.
'Holy shit!', Ann struggled hard against the omnipresent urge to verbalize the intense and damn near excruciating amounts of unrestrained pleasure she was deriving. 'And here I thought that a good tongue lashing was the ultimate form of sexual stimulation!
'Boy, was I ever wrong about that!
'This... what-ever-you-want-to-call-it that you're doing to me... oh, femmified husband of mine... is so far beyond belief... it isn't funny!
'I mean to tell you! What you're doing to me... is so friggin' fantastic that I can't even begin to comprehend just how friggin' turned on I am!
'Oh my God...', Ann, grabbing the lip of the table with both of her hands and squinting her eyes together as part of the preparatory process, sought to braced herself for the multi- orgasmic episode that she knew - on an intuitive level of her being - to be on the cusp being triggered.
Then, just as the lead elements of her femmified husband's protoplasmic-like essence began to passed within the multiple, guardian-like lip-folds of her love-juice lubricated vagina, and, tarrying not, proceeded on to plunge ever inward, seeking out the inmost sanctum sanctorum of her femininity, Ann found the transcendental blessing of sexual fulfillment as her whole being was besieged and beset with one tsunami-like orgasmic climax after another.
Gradually, as the orgasmic surges that had wracked and rippled through her body began to diminish in both their frequency and their severity, Ann, though she was unaware of the actual disembarkation point, entered the mystical realm of blissful, post-orgasmic contemplation. Then, as Ann languished within the idyllic wonderment of a very cozy and extremely self- satisfying orgasmic after-glow, she slowly, but surely, became aware of an elusive presence, residing snugly up inside of her vaginal canal. Strangely, as she endeavored to mental examine her perceptions of the phenomenon she was experiencing, she realized that though there was no denying the fact that she did indeed feel a very real, to be almost, but not quite tangible, presence residing up inside of her, she was perplexed, due to the realization that that ethereal presence that she felt lack any sort of physicality what-so-ever.
In other words, while Ann's impressions of this inexplicable presence were strongly reminiscent of those generated during a phallic intrusion, she in no way felt impaled or, for that matter, physically impeded or constrained, the way she would have had she had something, something in the nature of a tampon, a diaphragm or an IUD, been crammed up inside of her.
Truth be told, Ann even put that tentatively arrived at assumption of her's to the test by shimming her tush around on the bench she was occupying a few quick times; as she alternately lifted one hinny-cheek after the other and experimented with a sashaying hip thrust or two, only to find that her perceptions had been right on the money. Though she felt a very strong phallic-like presence nestled snugly up inside of her, that presence in no way hampered or impeded her ability to move about freely. Then, though she wasn't sure that she ought to try something of this nature, given the fact that she harbored a small, though unshakable reservation that she might inadvertently trigger an expulsion of this bliss-engendering presence, Ann, employing her husband's often stated, 'no balls, no glory' axiom, tensed all the multitude of muscles residing below her lovely tampered waistline and, as she did so, proceeded on to bring her inner thighs together as tightly as she could manage. Nothing, as she had dearly hoped and prayed, happened. The presence remained and Ann, feeling more contented than she had ever had - in her whole, entire life - endeavored to do what her past experiences proclaimed as an exercise in utter futility. Untensing her body in an all out - albeit entirely passive - effort to re-immerse herself in the delightful, post-orgasmic serenity of the warm-fuzzies, Ann focused on the swirling, twirling intangible essence of her jinnified husband and allowed herself to slowly sink back into the wonderment of the preceding moments. Within seconds, as incredulous as it might sound, Ann achieved what she had always presumed to be an impossible goal.
Succinctly put, Ann Renyolds, astonishing and amazing herself in the process, managed to re-captured the blissful contemplation of post-orgasmic after-glow.
Savoring every nuance of what it had felt like to have her jinnified husband's ethereal essence flow ever so sensually, ever so seductively over her and then, having tickled that clitoral fancy of her's in the most electrifying way imaginable, proceeded on to entered her, Ann thought to herself, 'Jean... Oh, Jean... You've always been one hell of a lover... but this time, Jean... you really out did yourself! Big time!
'I mean to tell you, Jean... You were absolute fantastic...'
'I was... was I?', came the honey sweeten intonations of a mind-thought that Ann knew - without the shadow of doubt on her part - to be not of her own composing. 'That's nice to know...'
'Jean! Jean! Is that really you? Have I gone completely around the bend or are you here... in some far fetched, fanciful way... y'know, that I can't even begin to imagine... in my mind with me?'
'In a manner of speaking... I guess you could say that: yes, Ann... I am!'
'How's that possible?', Ann, delightful befuddled, inquired incredulously.
'Well... when you made that last wish of your's... y'know, the one that installed my corporeal repository in this little honey pot of your's, Ann... since your vagina is an integral part of your whole physical being... you could say that you... rather than just your vagina... has... in a sense... supplanted that old lamp mine.
'So... though I know I'm using the flimsiest of technicalities to do so, Ann... I empowered myself... y'know, so that you and I could... I guess you could say... carry on conversations... y'know, like whenever I'm in residence... y'know, like I am now.'
'You mean to tell me,', Ann demanded tersely, 'that you know everything I'm thinking?'
'No! Your thoughts are you own, Ann! I cannot access them. And if I could... I wouldn't! Y'know, because that wouldn't be right...'
Though Ann relished the idea that she could communicated with her jinnified husband's disembodied essence, she was still more than a little unease about the notion that Jean might, though he said otherwise, be able to easedrop on her most intimate and inner most thoughts.
'Then, how can you explain what you're doing, Jean? I mean... if you and I can carry on a conversation like this... y'know, in my head... then it follows that you have the ability to read my thoughts as well!'
'It would seem to work that way, Ann... but rest assured, it doesn't!
'Before you and I can converse like this... you have to... shall we say... enter into... what I will call... for a lack of a better term for it... the dialogue mode... y'know, the very same mental mode that everyone uses when they talk to themselves.'
'And when you do that, Ann... y'know, employ the dialogue mode... you open... what I guess you could call... a telepathic comm-link... y'know, that... for a lack of a better way to put this... grants me a limited amount of access... y'know, over which the two of us can converse with one another.. y'know, in a way that sort of emulates a normal, verbalized conversation.'
'Oh...', Ann, internally mused, doubtful that she would ever fully understand the metaphysical mechanism which allowed her and her vagina housed husband a means over which they could telepathically carry on conversations with one another, while at the same time, denying Jean access to the rest of her thought processes.
'Now I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Jean... because I really want you to be aware of the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed that orgasmic interlude that you just now so cunningly engendered... y'know, when you did whatever you went and did to me. However... as reluctant as I am to say this... I really wish that you wouldn't do something like that again... y'know, without securing my permission to do so first.'
Then, when no response from her jinnified husband was forthcoming, Ann, perplexed as to why that was, inquired, 'Jean... Are you still there?'
'Yes, dear... I'm right here.'
'I didn't hear your customary 'granted'.'
'No, Ann... you most certainly did not!'
'How come?', Ann mentally asked.
'Because...', Jean returned.
'Because isn't going to cut it, Jean! I want to know why you aren't going to grant that wish of mine and I would like to know now!'
'Alright, Ann. I'll tell you.
'While I have no problem at all honoring that request of your's... I will not subjugate myself to a binding wish ever again.'
'No, Ann... I most certainly will not!'
'You see, Ann... I rather like the idea of being an emancipated jinn. Now... while it is true that you still retain autonomous control over what I going to wear... y'know, during my physical manifestations... plus the fact that you can both beckon me forth and dismiss me... y'know, like whenever you want to... to put it bluntly, Ann... if you disregard all that stuff I just now mentioned... I can pretty much do as I damn well please!
'Alright, already, Jean! There's no need to go getting those new ample endowments of your's in an uproar!
'Now that you've explained it to me, Jean... I fully understand why you didn't grant me that wish! Furthermore... now that I do understand... I not only appreciate your stance... but I fully agree with it as well... y'know, because what I really want is for the two of us to be on as much of an equal footing as is possible... y'know, in this new - albeit convoluted - relationship of ours', Jean!.
'Look! If I got little hot under the collar just now, Ann... please - I implore you! - forgive me! Remember... given all that has transpired today... I'm not... as you well know... myself... y'know, here of late.'
'Tell me something that I don't already know... oh, femmified husband of mine!
'But, Jean... getting back to the impetus behind why I made such a wish in the first... tell me something.'
'Sure, hon... shoot.'
'Am I going to have an orgasmic episode each and every time you either enter or exit me... y'know, because if I am... as much as I really... truly liked it... we may have to re-think this corporeal re-location of your's?'
'No, Ann... While I can't promise you that you won't be sexually stimulated... y'know, like whenever I enter or exit this nice and cozy little honey pot of your's... I can... I think it's safe to say... tone it down quite a bit... y'know, to levels that are way below those levels of physical stimulation required to induce you into a state of orgasmic ecstasy.'
'Good, Jean!', Ann chimed in. 'I'm glad to hear that... y'know, because... while I sure wouldn't mind you doing what you just did to me... y'know, when we're off somewhere secluded... y'know, somewhere secluded... shall we say... like our bedroom... when we're out in public... y'know, like we are now... I do believe that discretion... not to mention, restraint... is the better part of valor... y'know, that is: if you catch my drift here, Jean?'
'I do! And I won't, Ann!'
'Won't what... oh, femme fatale of a husband of mine?'
'I won't... I guess you could say... press my luck... y'know, when we're out in public, Ann.
'However... whenever we're home... or, whenever we're somewhere were we can't be readily observed... just so you know, Ann... as far as I'm concerned... when it comes to the fine art of metaphysical seduction... I will continue to do as I have done in the past... y'know, as in I will continue to consider you fair game!
'In other words... oh, bogus twin sister of mine... be aware that I... as your loving, dutiful and jinnified husband... reserve the right to seduce you anytime I want to.'
'Alright, smartass!', Ann concurred. 'That's perfectly fine by me... just as long as you are aware that I retain the right to ignore any and all seduction attempts of your's... y'know, like if I ever could...'
Then, after a moment or so of introspective thought, Ann sought to re-established the telepathic comm-link as she began, 'Jean...'
'Tell me something...'
'Sure... if I can...'
'Do I have any reason to be embarrassed?'
'Embarrassed! About what, Ann?'
'Well... when you took it upon yourself to do what you went and did to me... y'know, when you de-materializied and proceeded on to digitally downloaded yourself into me... did I... by any chance... attract any undo attention to myself... y'know, because... as hard as it was for me to do so... you'd best believe... oh, femmified husband of mine... I did my damndest to try to refrain from doing anything that would alert people to just what in the hell was going on?
'I mean... even though the character that Meg Ryan played in that restaurant scene of the flick 'When Harry met Sally' was only faking an orgasm... you'd best believe that I'm not up to emulating her... y'know, by making a whole lot of woman envious of me... y'know, given the mega amounts of unrestrained pleasure I'd be deriving... y'know, should you pull a repeat performance of what you just up and did to me!'
'Not to worry, Ann! You did good! In fact, you did real good! You hardly whimpered or squirmed at all!'
'Jean!', Ann was alarmed. 'Are you suggesting that I actually whimpered and squirmed?'
'Yeah... right at the end you did...'
'Shit!', Ann mentally exclaimed.
'Did anyone see me?', Ann felt compelled to ask.
'No, Ann... Not to worry! No one saw or heard anything.'
'That's strange...', Ann mused.
'No... not really...
'You see, Ann... when I took it upon myself to do what I did, I took a couple of precautions... y'know, just to safeguard that straight laced sensibility of your's.'
'You did?', Ann was not only pleasantly surprise, but relieved as well.
'Yes, Ann... I did.'
'Though you are probably unaware of any of this even occurring... y'know, given the fact that your attention was not just focused, but riveted elsewhere... just as I was about to slip under the lip of those sleek, satin panties of your's and... I think it's safe to say... up the ante considerably... I empowered myself... y'know, so that I could access my magical potential and there by, employe it to create... shall we say... a timely diversion... y'know, that would - in effect - guarantee... that everybody and his brother would be looking elsewhere... y'know, during the crucial time that you'd be... I guess you could say... for a lack of a better way to put it... sexually indispose.
'Just as you were getting into the swing of things, oh, wifey of mine... I took advantage of a situation that was - at the time - developing.
'You see, Ann... there was this young, pimple-faced fellow... y'know, who had just finished up busing a few tables over in that little niche... y'know, that's located just beyond the bar... and was heading back to the kitchen area with a whole tray full of dirty dishes and other such sundry... y'know, via... what you might call... the joint's main concourse. Also... coming the other way... y'know, along the very same aisle-way that the busboy was traversing... there was this rather gangly waitress... y'know, who... like the busboy, was carrying a tray... save that her's was chocked full of platters... y'know, fresh from the kitchen.
'Well anyhow... to make a long story short, Ann... neither one of 'em... thanks to yours truly's timely metaphysical intervention... was paying a whole lot of attention to the want they were doing... y'know, as in they were... for all intent and purposes... completely oblivious to the approach of the other.
'I mean to tell you, Ann... it was the perfect 'accident waiting to happen' scenario... y'know, if ever there was one!
'And I took full advantage of it!'
'You didn't!', Ann feigned alarm.
'I most certainly did!
'Just as the two of 'em were about to pass one another, I kindled up a couple of minor, audible distractions... y'know, that had the two of 'em looking everywhere... save where they should have been looking. Also... just to add a touch of credibility to the situation... I conjured up one of those little pads of butter and placed it directly in the busboy's path.
'Okay! So they're almost... but not quite abreast of one another... when - Shazam! - the busboy steps on the butter pad! His foot comes out from under him. He jostles his tray in a futile attempt to keep it from tipping over and spilling its' contents as he continues to stutter-step forward only to collide with the waitress and that, Ann... was all she wrote! As the busboy and the waitress became entangled and, in a comedy of errors, drew one another floorward, plates... trays... food... and a whole parcel of the victual refuse that the busboy was transporting back to the kitchen... went up into the air... where upon, half a second or so later, the whole kit and caboodle came crashing down all over the friggin' place!
'I mean to tell you, Ann... it was a mess if ever there was one! Shit landed everywhere imaginable!
'One poor fellow... y'know, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time... ended up with gobs of ketchup all over him!
'Jean!', Ann wasn't feigning alarm this time. This time she was as serious as all get out. 'This isn't the least little bit funny! Please tell me that you're just pulling my leg here... and that you really didn't do what you just said you did! Y'know... because if you did what you say you did... y'know, and hurt or upset a whole lot of innocent people... y'know, when you brought this... this... this... this 'distraction' of your's about... I'm going to be thoroughly pissed!'
'Not to worry, Ann! No harm was done! No one was hurt! And no one's property... and that's property... as in: clothing... was damaged!
'True... some of the resultant stains... though faded... are still in somewhat in evidence. But, believe me, Ann... a short time after the affected people bid this place a fond adieu... those stains of their's will go the way of the doodoo... y'know, as in they will up and magically disappear.'
'Promise?', Ann, still unease about the whole thing, demanded.
'Promise...', Jean replied contritely. 'Rest assured, Ann... everything will be taken care of... In fact... I've already taken steps to ensure that the restaurant's bank accounts are complete reimbursed for all the free dinners that the manager will have to parcel out... y'know, to appease the ruffled feathers of the patrons who took umbrage with what happened!
'Hell, Ann... just so you know... I've already replaced all the broken plates and all!'
* * *
A few minutes later, as Ann and Jean continued to telepathically converse with one another, Jean broke with the current line of their discussion as he chided, 'Look lively, Ann! Our waitress approaches!'
"Excuse me!", their perky waitress began. "Will that be all for tonight... or can I get something else for either you or your sister?'
"No...", Ann replied, "Just the bill, pleas..."
Then, a moment or so later, having checked her purse and finding that she lacked sufficient funds, Ann nonverbally chided herself, 'Shit! Wouldn't you just know it! I spent all the money I had this morning... over at the flea market!'
'Yeah...', Jean disgruntle chimed in, 'You used it to buy that Persian lamp... y'know, the very same one that up and pulled this hocus pocus dominocus on me... changing me into not only its' resident jinn... but a friggin' crotch creased, ample endowed member in good standing of the opposite sex to boot!'
Ann, ignoring her femmified husband disparaging remarks, asked, what she presumed to be, the quintessential question of the moment, 'Jean... do I need to wish for some money... or an American Express Card... y'know, to take care of the check... or what?'
'No... That shouldn't be necessary, Ann.'
'And why - Pray tell! - shouldn't it be necessary... oh, jinnified husband of mine?'
'Because, Ann... when I magically whipped up a purse for myself... I took the liberty of provisioning it with more than enough money to handle a normal evening out.
'However... when I de-materialized... given the fact that I'm not use to lugging around a friggin' pocket book... y'know, like you are... I forgot to... I guess you could say... bring it with me. So... I do believe that if you take a moment and look... you should find that purse of mine right there on the bench... y'know, like right next to where this bodacious new tush of mine was so beguilingly parked.'
* * *
Needless to say, Ann did as her vaginally housed husband had telepathically suggested and found the purse exactly where he, as a disembodied sheling, had said it would be. Using the cash that was contained within, Ann dutifully paid their bill and, given the fact that she still felt a tad bit guilty about all the commotion that her husband's 'distraction' had caused, left a rather generous tip. Then, taking both her own pocket book and Jean's in tow, Ann, keenly aware that she was garnishing a whole hell of a lot more attention with this physically enhanced body of her's than she was use to, proceeded to make her way out of the restaurant.
If it hadn't been for the fact that she knew that Jean wasn't about to allow anyone accost her in any form or fashion, Ann, keenly aware that this new, upgraded physique of her's fairly reeked with sexuality, would have been a just a wee bit leery as she stepped off the sidewalk and began to make her way across the parking lot. However, since there were several couples also in evidence, heading either to the restaurant or back to their respective vehicles, Ann was fairly confident that nothing untoward would occur.
Reaching the BMW roadster, Ann realized that she had a dilemma to contend with.
'Jean!', she telepathically implore, as she began to fumble around in her husband's purse in an effort to locate the sport car's keys.
'I've got a small problem...'
'And what - exactly - would that problem be, Ann?'
'The car's a stick-shift and, as you are so well aware of... oh, hubby of mine... given all the raft of shit you had to put up with when you tried... on so many numerous occasions... to teach me... I still can't drive a stick-shift!'
'Not to worry, dear!', Jean returned evenly. 'We can take care of that little bug-a-boo in a snap!'
'What do you want me to do, Jean? 'Make a wish to have you change it from a manual into an automatic?'
'Heavens no! Perish the thought, Ann! Something like that would be tantamount to a sacrilege... y'know, to a sport-car aficionado like me!
'No...', Jean continued, '...what I had in mind, Ann... was for you to make a wish to be able to drive a stick-shift...'
'Do I have to?', Ann, far from ecstatic with her jinnified husband's solution, returned in a most disgruntled tone of telepathic thought.
'Yes, Ann... you do. Unless of course... you'd like to wait around until I've reached the point where I can re- materialize... y'know, so that I can drive. However...if you elected to go that route... you run the risk of missing out on the movie...'
Ann, having taken the necessary steps to positioned herself behind the BMW's wheel while they had been mentally conversed with one another and also fully aware that her vaginal housed husband was thoroughly enjoying the hell out of the situation, conceded. Knowing that she didn't have a whole hell of a lot of options open to her, Ann tentatively depressed the clutch and twisted the key in the ignition, as she proceeded on to made the wish that her vagina housed husband had urged her to make.
Instantly, as Jean's 'granted' wafted across her mind, Ann realized that her fears were totally unfounded and that driving a car with a manual transmission was second nature to her.
* * *
Ann Renyolds, all though very competent and extremely courteous whenever she was behind the wheel, had always been somewhat ambivalent about driving, in that she saw driving as but a means to get from Point A to Point B and not, as some form of pleasurable activity. Or, to put that another way, Ann, given all the congestion, not to mention, all the discourteous drivers that she seemed to be encountering in ever increasing numbers, tended viewed driving as a nothing more than a necessary evil. And given that attitude of her's, when and wherever possible, when she and her hubby ventured out somewhere, save for the exception of long trips, such as vacations, Ann opted to let Jean do darn near all of the driving.
That night however, even before she had cleared the restaurant's parking lot, Ann found - to her utter surprise and sheer amazement - that she was enjoying the hell out of putting the rag-topped roadster through its' paces. Truth be told, Ann was so enthralled with how the little BMW two-seater handled that she - on a whim - elected to take, what she had come to think of as one of her husband's scenic shortcuts, over the more direct and mundane route that she normally would have selected for herself. Down-shifting, sans the use of the clutch peddle, into a rather perilous, acute right hand turn, an exhilarated Ann Renyolds committed herself to the task of negotiating the meandering, shore-line hugging, macadam thoroughfare of the tri- counties' watershed. S-turn followed s-turn and Ann, relishing the moment, aggressively challenged each and everyone of 'em.
In an interesting little side-bar that even Ann wasn't cognitively aware of, save for the legal, full stops that she was required to make every now and again along her route, Ann's foot, though it prudently hovered over it on numerous occasions, never one came in contact with the BMW's brake peddle. Rather than employing the brake to slow the vehicle, Ann, downshifting to beat the band, opted to used the roadster's engine and a reduction in gear ratio to reduce the BMW's speed.
'This is amazing! Absolutely amazing!', Ann mentally exclaimed to herself, as she completed a series of complicated switchbacks. 'I never... in my whole entire life... thought driving could be this much fun!
'Jean! Jean! If you're listening... thanks! This gear shifting shit's really neat!'
'Told ya...', Jean's honey sweeten telepathic intonations wafted across the chambers of her mind.
* * *
Far to soon for Ann's liking, her short, though highly exhilarating trek came to an end as she deftly, though reluctantly, maneuvered the spry little roadster onto the mall's circular driveway and from there, into cinema annex's parking lot.
'Jean?', Ann telepathically intoned.
'Can ya... can ya... can ya?'
'Can I what, Ann?'
'Can you come out and play now?'
'No... Not yet, honey... But soon... In... shall we say... in another couple of minutes or so...'
* * *
Even though Ann had made darn good time on the drive over, she arrived at the multi-theater complex a good ten minutes or so after the early evening run of the movie had started. Granted, she could have opted to see something else, but given the fact that she knew her jinnified hubby had been chomping at the bit to see this particular movie, Ann, acting on her own prerogative, elected to purchase tickets for the nine o'clock airing. Then, have checked with Jean first, to see if he, as the sheling he had become, was at a point where he could re-emerge, only to find that it would still be a few more minutes ere he could re- materialize, Ann, knowing that she had a good hour and a half to play around with before the flick's next showing, decided to while away the time over at the mall, engaging in some low-impact window shopping.
Shortly thereafter, having driven the BMW closer to one of the mall's several entrances, Ann, having once again checked in with her vaginally housed hubby, only to find that he was still metaphysically indisposed, proceeded on to enter the mall proper. However, given the persnickety way that that old bromide of Mr. Murphy's tends to work, no sooner had Ann Renyolds passed beyond the second set of the mall entrance's bi-directional doors, she became keenly aware of the fact that her husband's sexy, honey sweeten intonations were resounding within her mind, "Ann.."
'The last time you checked in... you asked me to inform you when I could re-materialize. Well... that time has now arrived.'
'Good!', Ann telepathically replied. 'I'm glad to hear that!'
'Now...', she continued, '...all we have to do is to figure out how we are going to accomplish that... y'know, without drawing a whole lot of undo attention to us...
'Oh! I know! I'll use the ladies room!'
And that's just what Ann Renyolds did. Without any form of hesitation on her part, Ann made for the closet public rest-rooms and there, entered the middle of three adjacent and vacant stalls. There, though she felt down right foolish doing what she did, Ann, using both the index and middle fingers of her right hand, began to teasingly encircle the nipple of her right boobie with both a crass and calculated clockwise rotation. Then, just as she completed the third, teasing and swirling revolution of her tit titillating fingers, Ann began to experience, what she could only describe to herself as a sexually enticing out- gushing, as the amorphous essence of her jinnified husband began to issue out of her vaginal canal and flow, ever so sensually and seductively, down along the run of her inner thigh.
Passing beyond the cuff of Ann's second skin like jeans, the lead portion of her hubby's metaphysical substance darted under the privacy wall that ran between the stall she occupied and the next one over and there, began to smartly coalesce into the physical rendition of Jean in his ultra sexy, herified form.
Then, a second or so after Ann felt the last of her husband's digitalized being trickle out of her, from the next stall over, she heard her femmified husband exclaim, "Yuck! And here I thought men's rooms were pits!
"I mean... this place is certified mess! Y'know... if ever there was one!", Jean continued, as he, as a she, exited the stall and made a quick scan of the premises.
"I mean... that toilet in there was all stopped up and that... I'm sad to say... wasn't the worst of it!, Jean continued as Ann took a moment or so to check herself out in one of the least gunked-up wall mirrors.
"Ann!", Jean implored, as he, as the femme fatale that he had become, inadvertently did likewise.
"You'll never... in a million years... believe what some woman left in there, Ann!"
"Bet you I can, Jean!"
"Alright... smartass!", Jean scoffed. "Why don't you give it your best shot!"
"A used Tampex!", Ann asserted in a matter-of-factly manner.
"Yeah...", Jean returned in a surprised tone of voice. "How'd you know?"
"Lucky guess!", Ann casually replied as she made for the exit.
"Look... oh, femmified husband of mine! If I've told you once... I've told you a thousand times! When it comes to public restrooms, women are pigs!"
* * *
"Ann...", Jean began tentatively.
"Correct me if I'm wrong. But, I thought we were going to the movies."
"We are.", Ann replied.
"Well... if we are - Pray tell! - just what in the hell are we doing here at the mall... oh, bogus twin sister of mine?"
"So...", a somewhat disgruntled Jean, seeking clarification, began anew, "...if I'm hearing you correctly, Ann... what you're suggesting is: for the two of us to hang out here... in the mall... where damn near everybody and his horny assed brother can lecherously gawk at us... y'know, until it's time for us to head back over to the movies... y'know, in plenty of time for us to get some popcorn and some good seats for the next showing..."
"Yeah...", Ann offered, "...that is... unless you can think of something else for the two of us to do until the movie starts, Jean..."
Jean, though he, as the sheling that he had so rudely become, sorely wished he could, he was at a loss to come up with something better to do and so, though he was far from ecstatic about the prospect of parading around the mall in what he had come to think of as his slut-suit, he found his herified self acceding to Ann's suggestion; knowing that his wife was right and that since he was going to have to deal with such situations for the rest of his un-natural life as a femmed out to the friggin' max of a vagina housed jinn, he might as well just go ahead and bite the proverbial bullet and get it over with - A.S.A.P.!
"Buck up, Jean!", Ann compassionately chided, as the two of them made passed out of the corridor that gave access to the public restrooms and, from there, out onto the upper concourse of the mall proper. "It won't be as bad as that male mind of your's is making it out to be!"
"Wanna bet?", Jean scoffed.
"Look!", Ann countered. "If it'll help you out, Jean... try pretending that you're still a man and that everyone's looking at me! Not you!"
"Yeah.... right!", Jean's reply was as sarcastic as all get-out. "Given the way I look... not to mention... how damn friggin' sexy I feel decked out in this new, bodacious bod of a body of mine... that'll be a cinch for me to accomplish..."
Ignoring her husband disparaging remarks, Ann countered by saying, "Come on, Jean! Let's go get us a couple of ice cream cones!"
* * *
A few minutes later, as the two of them casually strolled along the left hand side of the mall's upper concourse, checking out the display windows and licking their ice cream cones as they went, Jean caught a fleeting glimpse of what his thoroughly male libido took to be a sweet young honey riding up the escalator and swiftly craned his head around to get a better look-see.
Ann, who was clandestinely keeping a close eye on her herified husband, took note of his interest in the girl and teasingly commented, "See something you like, Jean?"
Realizing that it was the girl's outfit, rather than the girl herself that had peeked his interest, Jean replied, "No... not really..."
"Well...", Ann pointed out, "...you must have seen something that tickled your fancy, Jean. So... come on! Tell me! What was it?"
"Well...", Jean began reluctantly, "...if you really must know, Ann... it's that girl over there."
"Which one?", Ann sought clarification.
"That one! The one who's just getting off of the escalator!"
"Her?", Ann, who was well aware of her husband taste in women, returned with marked skepticism.
"Well... now that I've had a chance to really scoop her out... oh, sham of a twin sister of mine... it's the outfit she' wearing... y'know, rather than the girl herself that caught my eye..."
Incredulously, Ann exclaimed, "You are pulling my leg... aren't you, Jean?
"I mean... you're not actually serious about liking that outfit she's wearing... are you, Jean?"
"I mean... those boots! Not to mention... those ludicrous fishnet stockings of her's are hideous! Absolutely hideous!"
"I agree, Ann.", Jean freely admitted. "However... if you were to replace those combat boots and ill fitting fishnet stockings of her's with a pair spiked heels and... shall we say... a pair of chocolate brown pantyhose... and then, tuck the other side of that rather nifty electric blue satin blouse she's wearing into that leather mini-skirt of her's... you've got to admit, Ann... were it not for that ugly orange and purple ratty looking hairdo of her's... she'd be one hot looking little number... y'know, if ever there was one..."
"Hmmm...", Ann began thoughtfully, "You may have something there... oh, femmified husband of mine...
"Tell you what! How 'bout we put that theory of your's to the test, Jean?"
"You mean...", Jean inquired tentatively, "...you intend to make a wish to have me modify her outfit in the manner I just now mentioned?"
"No... not her outfit... I was think more in the line of yours..."
"Ann!", Jean was incredulous. "You're not seriously considering decking me out in something as revealing as a micro mini-skirt, are you?"
"I most certainly am... oh, femmified husband of mine!
"In fact, Jean... now that I have had a moment or so to think about it... given how sexy looking these legs of ours' are... I think you're going to look absolutely scrumptious in a micro mini-skirt..."
And a few minutes later, after Ann had fashioned and spoken the wish that would re-attire her body double of a husband, Jean stood there, resplendent in leather mini-skirt, satin blue blouse, chocolate brown pantyhose and a pair of your standard issue, black, stiletto heeled, sock-it-to-me, dick-teaser specials.
"Ann!", Jean demanded, having caught an eye-fully of his herified self reflected in a panel of a glassed-in store front. "Please! I implore you! Get me out of this get-up!"
"And just why - Pray tell! - would I want to do that?
"I mean... from my vantage point, Jean... you look absolutely fantastic!"
"That's the problem, Ann! I look to freakin' fantastic in this get-up for my own friggin' good!
"I mean... if this skirt that you decked me out in were any friggin' shorter..."
"Yeah... I know! You'd be committing an act of indecent exposure.", Ann interjected, completing her jinnified husband's thought for him.
"Exactly!", Jean concurred.
"So please, Ann! I implore you! Change this outfit of mine back to what it was!"
"Oh, no! Irregardless of how much you rant and rave... I don't think you'll ever going to be able to persuade me to do something like that, Jean..."
Perturbed, Jean challenged, "And just why in the hell not, Ann?"
"Because... oh, femmified husband of mine... I think you look absolutely terrific dressed the way are.
"Yeah... I'll grant you that I do at that! But...", Jean, though he hated his herified self for doing so, felt obliged to concur with his wife's assessment.
"There's no 'buts' about it, Jean!
"I know you look good! And you - yourself - know you look good... y'know, in that sexy little, leg revealing get-up of your's!
"So... I guess what I'm saying is: I don't want to hear anymore of your guff, Jean!
"Besides... if my memory serves me right... this afternoon... you weren't all that thrilled with me when I dressed the two of us up in matching outfits... now were you?"
"No, Ann...", Jean admitted, "I sure as hell wasn't... y'know, because I thought that you were carrying the twin sister thing just a little bit to far."
"Well... oh, hubby of mine... you've got that particular wish of your's. We're not dress alike anymore... now are we?"
"No, Ann... we most certainly aren't..."
"And I'll bet you that you wouldn't be complaining if I was wearing those clothes... and you were still wearing these... now would you, Jean?"
"No, Ann... You're right! I sure as hell wouldn't be...", Jean contritely conceded.
"See! I was right!", Ann was quick to point out. "That thoroughly male chauvinism of your's is starting to show, Jean!
"Now that we are no longer dressed alike...", Ann proceeded on to change the subject, "...I was thinking that maybe we ought to do something about that hair of your's..."
"Like what!", an unnerved Jean Renyolds demanded.
"Well... I was thinking along the lines of a shag or a French braid or something...
"Tell you what, Jean! Since we still have quit a bit of time to kill... y'know, before we head back over to the movies... why don't we hit a book store... y'know, and check out the magazine rack. Maybe... just maybe... we can find something in one of the women's magazines... y'know, that'll become you..."
* * *
About twenty minutes or so later, having perused a whole parcel of female-targeted periodicals, Jean, thanks to another one of his wife's wishes, emerged from the book store with his hair done up in a very intricate and extremely flattering French braid.
Also, Ann, having been intrigued by something she had seen - in of all places - the pages of a Playboy that her hubby had brought to her attention, made the appropriate wish that would upgrade the outfit that he, as a she, was so fetchingly festoon within by adding a very classy, silver satin scarf, tied snugly around that aristocratic new neck of his herified physique.
"Jean...", Ann began coyly.
"In the future... when we're out in public like we are now... it might be best were you to exercise a little more restraint... y'know, when it comes to you and your scooping out girlie magazines... y'know, because it isn't the sort of thing that we women generally do."
"Point taken, Ann.
"While I can't promise you that I won't be... shall we say... enticed to do so... I will take what you just said under advisement..."
* * *
"Okay, Ann! We've still got about half and hour to kill... so where to now?"
"I know!", Ann said brightly. "They've just opened up a brand new Victoria's Secrets downstairs! So... since we don't have anything better to do... we might as well go down and check it out!"
"Whoop-de-do!", Jean sarcastically replied. "I can't think of anything I rather do... oh, wifey of mine! Maybe... if I'm a good little girl... I can get me one of those new Miracle Bras that are all the rage these days..."
"Maybe... if you play your cards right and don't go pitching a bitch and giving me a hard way to go... we might be able to see our way clear into doing just that, Jean.", Ann, joining in on the jest, teasingly concurred.
* * *
Since Ann knew that her jinnified hubby could magically whip up anything her little heart desired, Ann passed on carrying out the veiled threat contained in the Miracle Bra business. However, as the two of them casually browsed about the shop, Ann made sure that she clandestinely took note of some of the lingerie that - to her way of thinking - seemed to have perked Jean's interest.
And then, as Ann was holding a shimmering, pastel, rainbow hued slip up to herself, so as to better enhance the mind game of 'I wonder how I would look in this', Jean prudently informed her that if they wanted to catch the movie, then it was high time for them to hit the road.
* * *
On their way out to the car, Jean, fully aware of all the unfettered enjoyment that his wife had derived out of piloting the BMW roadster, asked the question he, as a newly ensconced sheling, deemed needed asking, "Alright, Ann! Who's driving? Me? Or you?"
Ann, though she was sorely tempted to have another go behind the wheel of the sporty little two seater, quickly thought the matter through and came to the conclusion that since her husband had always done the majority of their localized driving in the past, having him - as a her - continue to do so would be most beneficial; in that it would only serve to reinforce the fact that Ann still accorded him - though a her - the man's role in this rather convoluted and strangely contrived new relationship of their's.
"Are you being silly, or what! I mean... come on, Jean! Get real! Remember! As far as I'm concerned... no matter what sex you are now... I still very much consider you my husband! And it's like I told you before! You can take that servile mistress shit that you've been saddled with and put it where the sun don't shine! Y'know, because I'll be damned if I'm going to have you consider me as anything other than your happily wedded wife!
"So... my darling dearest... when it comes to just who does the driving... irregardless of this new sexual status of your's... as far as I'm concerned... while this new physique of your's might belie the fact... you're still very much the man of the house! And in our household... the chauffeuring duties fall to the man of the house! Alright?
"I mean... are we entirely copacetic on that point or not, Jean?", Ann humorously quipped, as she pooped open her purse and began fumbling through it in an effort to locate the BMW's keys so that she could pass them over to her herified husband.
* * *
Trite as it might be, the Renyolds offered proof positive that old habits do die hard. Though they were completely oblivious to the fact that they were doing so, as they made their way from their car to the cinema complex, damned if they weren't holding hands.
* * *
Having purchased a couple of 44 oz. sodas, a box of Jordan Almonds - for Ann - and the gigantic, glutton-sized tub of buttered popcorn that Jean, if he, as a she, ran true to form, would single-handily polish-off before the movie was even a third over, the two of them were pleasantly surprised to find that they had arrived early enough to secure the center-most, back-row seats that they tended to favored.
As they sat there, waiting for the theater's lights to dim and the obligatory public service announcements to begin, the two of them attempted to past the time by engaging in some inconsequential and somewhat sporadic small-talk. However, though there was no rudeness involved on either one of their parts, neither one of them seemed all that eager to pursue a subject beyond a succinct comment or two.
Ann, though she tried to shrug it off, felt extremely awkward and uneasy about something that she couldn't - no matter how hard she endeavored to do so - quite put her finger on. Jean, she both knew and understood, was still having a hell of a hard time trying to come to grips with all that had happened to him and it was Ann's fervent hope that the movie would offer him - as a her - a temporary distraction from the pity party he was - she presumed - throwing, on an ongoing and unrelenting bases, for his herified self.
In other words, while Ann deeply and compassionately emphasized with husband's sexually induced plight, she knew, on an intuitive level of her being, that, while related, the uneasiness and awkwardness she was contending with, was rooted in something else altogether. Even since that brief episode of the early afternoon, the one in which she had made that inadvertent wish of her's and, as a result, had end up experiencing life through the prism of her husband's manly, dirty old man aspiring mind-set, Ann couldn't quite shake the rather perverse and perverted memories that had been so ignominiously engendered.
It was a damn good thing that her jinnified husband was unable to telepathically ease-drop on her ruminations, Ann realized, as she, for the umpteenth time that day, began to clinically re-examine the hodgepodge and often conflicting, if not down right contradictory, emotions she was contending with on an ongoing and omnipresent bases. Though she felt strangely, if not masochistically, compelled to keep returning to the possibility that she did, in fact, harbor some latent homosexual tendencies, each and every time she pondered such thoughts, Ann found that, even if she applied a liberal interpretation to her past interactions with other women, there was absolute no hard data to support the supposition that she had ever once entertained even a casual flirtation with lesbianism.
Fact is, prior to that very day, Ann Renyolds had never once entertained even a passing fantasy about getting it on with another woman. However, her husband's feminization had changed all of that in one fell swoop. Now, though it rankled the livin' shit out of her, no matter how hard she tried, Ann couldn't stop herself from wondering what it would be like were she to damn the consequences and plant a lip-lock on Jean that he - as a newly embodied sheling - wouldn't soon forget. Over and over and over again, Ann indulged the sadistic side of her nature as she found herself impishly contemplating what it would be like to do unto him, as he - pre-shedom - had done unto her, on so many, many numerous occasions.
Oddly enough, Ann's own, oft spoken words came back to haunted her. Quite often, in the past, when she had cozily and contentedly languished in the warm-fuzzies of post-orgasmic after-glow, savoring every nuance of the prior experience, Ann had teasingly chided her pre-femmified husband; informing him, in so many words, that he had absolute no idea what he had up and done to her and continued on to coquettishly add, that if she had but one wish, she'd wish that - just once - she'd like to be able to return the favor by turning the tables on him and have him experience sex from a female's point of view, never - in her wildest dreams - aware that one day the Hand of Fate would be so obliging as to present her with the perfect opportunity to do just that.
'Damn it, girl!', Ann mentally castigated herself. 'You've up and landed yourself right smack dab in the middle of one of those Twilight Zonish, be-careful-what-you-wish-for kind of convoluted scenarios!
'Trouble is, girl...', Ann, continuing the debate with herself, was quick to enunciate the pivotal point of the conundrum she was so hopelessly embroiled within, 'Now that you've got the chance to do something you've always wanted to do... you can't! Y'know, because - Young lady! - are not a friggin' lesbo!
'However...", Ann countered herself, '...one wish... one simple little wish... and you could be...'
But as much as Ann would have liked to have been able to make that fairly simple wish, a wish that would pretty much eliminate all the road-blocks keeping her and her femme fatale of a jinnified husband from being able to preserve at least some of the sexual aspects of their exclusive, on one, relationship, she couldn't. Even though she kept telling herself that she could opt-out of the lesbian business any time she so chose, homosexuality, and all that it implied, was so much of such an anathema to her that just thinking about it tended to turn her stomach and make her want to retch her guts out. And due to that rather crucial point, no matter how much Ann endeavored to convince herself otherwise, she was still extremely reluctant to take the plunge into the perverse and perverted world homosexuality.
* * *
Throughout the whole entire day, ever since the lamp had first regurgitated him in this new, ultra sexy, feminine form of his, Jean had, in one way or another, been bemoaning the cruel trick that Dame Fate had played upon him. Jinnhood, he postulated to his herified self, wouldn't have been half bad if he had still been the male he had born to be.
Truth be told, once Ann had, for all intent and purposes, emancipated him from the operational constraints that the lamp had placed upon him, as a her, Jean found that he rather enjoyed, if not out right relished, the magical aspects that were part and parcel of his metaphysical enhancements.
In other words, Jean found it kind of neat playing Little Miss Hocus-pocus Domin-ocus, changing this into that and that into this.
Furthermore, though he never - Ever! - would have admitted this, not even to his own herified self, Jean thoroughly enjoyed the cheap thrills he engendered during those frequent, though short-lived interludes when he inadvertently played a crass and perverted little game of grab-tush with his herified self.
But be that as it may be, though he still continued to cop a fell of his herified self every now and again, once the previews of coming attractions were a done deal, Jean, who had been chomping at the bit to see this particular film ever since he had first read about it going into production, did something that he - pre-shedom - had rarely, if ever, been able to accomplish before. Though he was totally unaware of the achievement, Jean became so engrossed in what was transpiring up on the theater's silver screen, that he somehow managed to shelve all of his current cares and woes and just sit back, relax and enjoy the flick.
Ironically, Ann, who normally had no trouble at all taking something that was bothering the shit out of her and putting it on the proverbial back-burner, couldn't. Though she constantly tried to focus her attention on the movie, she soon realized that it was a futile effort. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get her mind off of Jean; off of how damn sexy he, as a she looked, and more to the point, off the unresolved debate she was having with herself over her well founded reservations and hang-ups concerning her own involvement in lesbian based activities.
* * *
True to form, even though Ann had helped by eating a few hand fulls of the buttered popcorn, Jean polished off the bucket well before the main elements of movie's plot had all been introduced. Then, once he, as a she, had taken a napkin and wiped the butter and salt residue off of his long nailed, well manicured and distinctly feminized hands, Jean, once again providing inarguable proof that old habits do die hard, reached over the arm rest and, unbeknownst to his own herified self, tenderly placed his hand upon his wife's upper leg. Though Jean's act of possessive intimacy shocked the living shit out of her, Ann, though she was at a totally loss to fathom how she did so, managed to refrain from acting in a negative manner.
In other words, Ann didn't flinch, as she most certainly would have, had any other woman - save her femmified husband - touched her in such an intimate manner.
Oddly enough, Ann found that she was actually savoring the contact and because she was, in an effort to not only sustain it, but to nourish it as well, she took her own hand and, ever so gingerly, placed it lovingly down on top of Jean's, so as to anchor his herified hand in place.
Then, after a few minutes had passed, Ann got up the gumption to return the favor. Taking her free hand, with that free hand being her left one, and, working it ever so gentle, managed to slid it in between her right hand and Jean's left, so as to free up her own right hand, while at the same time, insuring that her husband's hand remain in contact with the forward arch of her upper denim clad leg. Then, with full knowledge of what she was doing, not to mention, a degree of heart felt trepidation, Ann impishly reached her freed-up right hand over the intervening armrest and, mimicking Jean's previous actions, placed it firmly on the nylon shrouded run of her femmified hubby's seductively exposed upper leg.
In marked contrast to his wife, Jean, all hot and bothered he, as a she was, felt a whole raft of decidedly sensual shivers course all along every nuance of his sexually reconstituted being, as his wife's hand delicately settled so incongruously upon his nylon encased leg.
'Ann!', he thought. 'Do you have any friggin' idea what you're doing to me?'
However, as unnerved as he, as a newly ensconced sheling was, Jean, though thoroughly bamboozled as to just what in the hell was going on, opted to do what he believed to be the most advantageous thing for him, as a her, to do under the circumstances, which was: to do absolutely nothing, save to just shit back, try and relax, and enjoy the friggin' hell out of the intimacy that his wife and, technically speaking, corporeal repository mistress was fostering upon him, as a her.
Ann, who was unaware of the fact that she had reached the plateau that guys have jokingly and crassly come to term 'second base', bid her time as she allowed the palpitations of her rather disheveled, if not thoroughly confused heart, to recede back into something in the upper levels of what one might consider the more normal range. Then, after a more few minutes had passed, Ann, unsure as to whether she was doing the right thing or not, in a calculated effort to advance her runner to 'third', took a health lead off of 'second', as she moved the tips of her manicured fingers over the arch of Jean's upper leg and began to teasing trace the rounded apex of her finger nails across the nylon sheathed run of Jean's inner, upper thigh.
"Ann!', Jean, reclaiming his own hand from out from under her's, leaned over and, in a barely audible whisper, tersely demanded. "Are you aware of what you're doing?"
Ann, no louder than Jean had been, just as tersely replied, "Yes! I am fully aware of what I am doing, Jean!"
Seeking enlightenment, Jean re-inquire, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Jean...", Ann teased, as she punctuated her remarks by moving her fingers ever so slightly towards the confluence of her husband's lower appendages and the love-juice secreting honey pot that was so tantalizingly nestled there, "I most certainly am!"
"How come?", Jean, bemused, found his herified self compelled to ask.
"Because...", Ann countered.
"Because... why?", Jean sought clarification.
"Because... oh, femmified husband of mine... I just decided I wanted to! I mean... if that's alright with you?"
Taken aback by his wife's retort, Jean found his herified self replying, "Sure... I mean... I guess so, dear...
"Good! I'm glade to hear that, Jean! Y'know, because... what's good for the gander is good for the goose and vice versa! And... if we apply some rather convoluted, in not high falutin' hyperbole... y'know to the situation that we find ourselves embroiled within... now that you're a proverbial goose yourself... y'know, equipped with all the sexual gadgets and apparatus that we geese come equipped with... you shouldn't quibble if I take it upon myself to goose you... y'know, like every now and again... y'know, just so you know what it feels like to be on... shall we say... the receiving end of things... oh, amply endowed and crotch creased husband of mine!"
"Thanks a heap, Ann...", Jean resignedly replied, knowing that any further protest of his would fall on deaf ears, given the fact that he, as a she, knew that his wife was going to do what she was go to do and that - as they say - was that.
* * *
Caressing her husband's femmified leg was one thing. Probing around in her husband's you-know-what of a loin slit was quite another altogther. While Ann could bring herself to a point where she could deal with the one, she was a far cry from dickering around with the other.
However, while she made damn sure she never once came in even fleeting contact with satin bikini briefs where in her hubby's vaginal swath was nestled ever so snugly, Ann's entreating and pleasure engendering finger-caresses came with a P.H.B. (Pubic Hair's Breath) of the sensual satin shroud encasing the multiple lip folds of Jean's carnal sanctum sanctorum round about the time the movie had come to its' rather logical, if not anticipated, conclusion.
Or to put that another way, when the inning was retired, Ann had a man left stranded on second base.
* * *
Ann didn't push it by suggesting that the two of them grab a nightcap and then, perhaps, go somewhere for an early breakfast before calling it quits for the night. Jean, she knew, had had enough and would probably throw a royal fit if she even suggested such.
Prudently, keenly aware that she had made the right decision earlier, Ann elected to leave the chauffeuring duties to Jean. However, she did put her own two cents worth in by suggesting that he might enjoy taking the scenic route that ran through the tri-counties water shed, informing him that she thought he'd get a real kick out of seeing for his herified self how well the spiffy little rag-top roadster handled the reservoir's tight, shore-line hugging S-turns.
Jean, who, more than likely, would have opted to take the very same route home that his wife had suggested, figured: 'What the hell! Why not!'
However, as he, as the sheling that he had so ignominiously become, deftly maneuvered the BMW out of the theater's parking lot, he felt compelled to ask, "Ann..."
"Let me ask you a question..."
"What - Pray tell! - am I to make out what you were doing to me... y'know, while we were watching the movie?"
Seeking clarification, Ann joshingly inquired, "Are you referring to the business revolving around my hand and the inner thigh of your left leg... oh, femmified husband of mine?"
"Yes, Ann... I sure as hell am!"
"Oh...", Ann replied in a dismissive manner and then, went abruptly silent.
"Well...", Jean, impatient for an explanation, begged the question.
"Well, what!", Ann defensively quipped.
"Well...", Jean groped, "...since you usually aren't... shall we say... the instigator... y'know, when it comes to sexual shit... given that what you were doing clearly falls into the realm of what is generally classify as heavy assed petting... am I to take it that you're starting to wavier on your stance on lesbian... or... were you just trying to get my goat... y'know, by torquing the living shit out of me... y'know, in an attempt to get even with me for what I did to you when I entered your you- know-what... y'know, while we were at the restaurant?
"I mean... now that I've got this friggin' new body of mine, Ann... I find that I've got erogenous zones all over the friggin' place! An you - My sweet! - were dickering around with one 'em!
"So... I guess what I saying is, Ann: if you feel that you need to... I guess you could say... experiment a little... y'know, to see if you might possible get beyond these well founded hang-ups of your's... y'know, about lesbianism and all... that's just find by me! In other words, Ann... as long as I know that there's a chance that you might become... shall we say... a convert... however remote that chance might be... if you feel that it's necessary to experiment every now and again... feel free to do so! Y'know, as in... as far as I'm concerned... be my guest and experiment away! However... if you aren't seriously contemplating a change that will make sexual romps palatable for you... and you're just doing what you did... y'know, as means by which you can tease the living shit out of me... than... if I had my druthers, Ann... I'd druther you not! Alright?"
Ann, upon the realization that her femmified husband didn't want to be amorously toyed around with anymore than she herself would have, apologized profusely; beseeching Jean, over and over and over again, to please forgive her for the liberties she had taken with that new, bodacious and high sensitized body of his.
"Look, Ann! Let's get something straight between us.. y'know, if only I still could...", Jean sarcastically scoffed. "I really don't mind you touching me the way you did! Fact is, Ann... as crass is this is going to sound... I really.... really enjoyed the hell out of it!
"I mean to tell you, Ann... you had this new twat of mine gushing love-juices to beat the band!
"What I do mind is: you had no intentions of finishing what you started! Y'know, as in you went and torqued the living shit out of this new sense of horniness of mine and then, you left me just hanging there... un-friggin' fulfilled!"
"I know, Jean...", Ann freely admitted. "And I'm really, truly am sorry that I did that!"
"I know, Ann... I know you didn't mean to tease me into a state of unrequited lust... y'know, when you did what you did to me... y'know, like when you caressed my leg and all..."
Then, after a minute or so of quiet contemplation on both there parts, Jean, who had just completed a series of rather challenging S-turns, returned to the subject.
"You know something, Ann? As much as I really relished the role of the sexual aggressor... y'know, as in the fondler... now that I've gotten a taste of what it's like be fondled... y'know, with these new, highly sensitized erogenous zones that I've been saddled with... I have to confess something to you."
"And what - Pray tell! - is that, Jean?"
"I kind of think I could take to this new body of mine being fondled... y'know, pretty much the way a duck takes to water!"
"You could... could ya'?", Ann teased.
"Yeah...", Jean sheepishly replied, as he, as the she that he had so inadvertently become, in a blatant effort to punctuate his remarks, took his right hand off the gearshift knob and proceeded on to delicately draw the extended middle finger of it, up along the central swath of his herified loins, "I sure as hell could!"
Then, after yet another moment or two of quiet contemplation, Jean, who was completely unaware of the fact that he, as a she, had just reached up and teasingly tweaked his right boobie, broke the silence by intoning, "Ann..."
"Can I offer you a little suggestion... or... if not a suggestion... at least something for you to think about..."
"Of course you can, Jean...
"I mean... I don't know why you even bothered to ask such a silly question in the first place... oh, femmified husband of mine..."
"I don't know either, Ann... I guess I was just trying to be polite...
"But anyhow... may I suggest that while you're mulling over this lesbian business... there's a couple of considerations that you may be overlooking."
"And just what might those considerations be... oh, built like a brick shithouse hubby of mine?"
"Well...", Jean was hesitant, "...for one thing, Ann... while you might think you do... you don't have to go whole hog with this lesbian business..."
"No... You most certainly don't!
"I mean... if you elect to do so... you can end up having the best of both worlds... y'know, by having me turn you into a bisexual."
"Okay! Nuff said! I take it that bisexuality is out..."
"You've got that straight!", Ann quickly concurred.
"Well then... since is plainly apparent that you don't want to go that route, Ann... you can always opt to limit the scope of your lesbian... y'know, down to one person. Namely me!"
"I can do that, Jean? I can actually do that?
"Sure, Ann... It's a cinch!
"Remember! Regardless of the fact that I have to look like a woman... I'm a magic wielding jinn now!
"In other words, Ann... save for a few limitations... y'know, that chiefly deal with me and this new amply endowed physique of mine... almost anything is goes!"
"Alright then...", Ann pondered aloud. "If I'm hearing you right... what your saying is... should I elected to go the route that you've just now made mention of... I could retain my normal, heterosexual outlook on life... while... I guess you could say... possess lewd and lascivious feelings for you... y'know, that would allow me... or better yet... entice me... y'know, to engage in... shall we say... sexual romps in the proverbial hay with you."
"Yes, Ann! In so many words... that's it in a nut shell!"
"Hmmm....", Ann mused. "That may well be the way for us to go... oh, femmified husband of mine..."
* * *
As Ann continued to grapple with the emotional conundrum that stemmed directly out of her husband's full blown feminization, the two of them lapsed into insubstantial conversations, as they began to play a game of one-upsmanship with one another; taking turns jokingly speculating on how their various family members might react when appraised of not only Jean's magically imposed jinnhood, but his new sexual status to boot. Jean's mother, both readily agreed, would handle the news a whole hell of a lot better than any of the rest of them. In fact, if Jean's mom ran true to form, once she got past the initial shock, she would find the silver lining in the whole despicable mell of a hess and take delight in the fact that her youngest of three sons had become the daughter she had always wanted, but never had. Neither of their fathers, Ann postulated, would handle the sexual, presto-chango aspect of Jean's jinnhood well and, of the two of them, Jean's father would probably take it the hardest, given the fact that he would more than likely take his son's feminization as nothing less than a personal affront to his own manhood. However, when it came to speculations revolving around how Ann's mon would take the news, their views differed drastically. Ann, who knew her mother to be one of the kindest and most generous persons she had ever known, thought that her mother would be very supportive. Jean, the former son-in-law turned daughter-in-law and hopefully, in everything went according to Hoyle, perspective sham of Ann's twin sister, wasn't as optimistic as his wife was. He, in his new guise as a well endowed sheling, half suspected that Ann's mother would be a whole lot more resistive to taking him on as a daughter than Ann thought she would be.
However, be that as it may be, both Jean and Ann whole heartily agreed that when push came to shove, once both sets of parents realized that neither Jean nor Ann had a whole hell of a lot of say in the matter, they would put their reservations behind them and do whatever they could to help facilitate the transition, even if that meant that Jean's parents would - technically speaking - loose a son - via a contrived traffic accident - where as, Ann's parents would, in a magical and mystifying sort of way, gain a another daughter.
* * *
Just as Jean turned off the main thoroughfare and into their housing development, he was struck with a whimsical, though ironic thought.
"You know something, Ann! If it hadn't been for that flagrant act of bribery of your's this morning... y'know, involving my getting lucky tonight and you prancing around in that skimpy little French maid's outfit... there's a better than fifty fifty chance that you - not I - would have been the one wearing the pantaloons in the family... y'know, because... you know as well as I do... if it hadn't been that little dick teaser that you enticed me with... given the fact that I had a whole slew of other things around the house that I had it in my mind to attend to today... I probably wouldn't have gotten right to the lamp as I... most regrettably... did. And... were that the case... knowing how impatient you tend to get when you want something done... y'know, like polishing up one of those new treasure of your's... y'know, so you can find some place around the house to display it... there's a fair chance that had I been busy tending to something else... you would have tackled the lamp yourself... y'know, with some of that pinkish gunk that you keep under the kitchen sink."
"Yeah, Jean... you're probably right. If it wasn't for that French maid's get-up... I - not you - would probably have been the harem clad one of the family.
"So...", Ann teased, "...am I to take it that you are suggesting that it's my fault that you've become what you've become... y'know, owing to the fact that I not only bought the lamp in the first place... but I also cajoled you into trying to clean it up for me... you, via the French maid gimmick?"
"No...", Jean replied was thoughtfully drawn out. "Fact is, Ann: as far as I'm concerning... it was nobody's fault. Neither your's nor mine...
Basically, that lamp was nothing more than an accident waiting to happen... and why it didn't happen before is anybody's guess... y'know, as in it was nothing more than a quirk of fate that up and did this dastardly, sexual switcheroo thing-of-a-ma- jig to me..."
Jean's mentioning of the skimpy maid outfit gave Ann an idea.
"I'd like to make another wish."
"Since you seem to like it so much... as soon as we get home... y'know, and are securely inside of our house... I wish for you to be wearing that French maid's get-up... y'know, just so you'll know how foolish it feels to be decked out in something as revealing as that!"
"Annn...", Jean complained to no avail.
* * *
"Jean!", Ann exclaimed as their court came in sight.
"Yes...", he, as the sheling he had become, was still somewhat perturbed about the notion that he'd be wearing that skimpy, black satin French maid outfit as soon as he, as a she, got inside the door of their houses.
"What are we going to do about the car? Should I make a wish to have you change it back into your truck or what, Jean?"
"Tell you what I'd like you to do, Ann. I'd like you to make a wish that would... I guess you could say... give me carte blanche... y'know, so that I can use my magical potential to take care of mundane matters such as changing this nifty little car back into that old truck of mine... y'know, so you won't have to keeping making a wish each and every time we need to attend something of this nature."
"Is a wish really necessary, Jean?
"I mean... I thought I took care of that nonsense this afternoon... y'know, when I made that wish that... save for the clothing business... put us on an equal footing.", Ann said as Jean began to back the BMW into vacant parking space.
"While you may have thought that you did, Ann... y'know, when you put the kibosh on my will being subservient to your's by putting us on... shall we say... an equal footing... as strange as this might sound... I am still restricted from the arbitrary use of my powers."
"You are?", Ann was surprised by her husband's statement.
Yes, Ann... I most certainly am.
"You see, dear... while you have given me the right to rubber stamp any wish you might make... when it comes to my own personal use of this magical potential of mine... I'm sad to report that I am highly restricted from using it to do the kinds of things you think I should be able to do... y'know, like out of hand."
"That's weird!", Ann was taken aback by Jean's admission.
"Yes, dear... it most certainly is.
"Fact is... as it stands now... I can only use my metaphysical powers to: one, grant your wishes; and two, maintain myself... y'know, in this newly imposed jinnhood of mine. Y'know, as in I can use my magic potential to perform maintenance functions... such as materializations, dematerializations and that sort of stuff... but as far as being able to fulfill even a simple wish of my own... I can't. Y'know, because that sort of stuff is strictly verboten.
"However... if you could see your way clear to making a wish that would give me discretionary control over these magical abilities of mine... I promise: I won't do anything that I think you wouldn't want me to do. And should I... y'know, overstep my bounds and do something that you're not entirely happy, or even at ease with - Guess what, Ann! - you can always make a wish - A wish I promise you I will process! - that will rescind and set aright whatever it was I up and did in the first friggin' place! Alright?
"Sure! No problem, Jean! Just tell me how you want me to phrase the wish and I'll make it right here and now!"
* * *
After she had made the wish that, for all intent and purposes, had empowered her femmified husband to do whatever he deemed appropriate, Ann, still bemused as to what he, as a she, intended to do about the BMW, inquired affectionately, "Okay, Jean! Now that you can access your magical potential... and do whatever you want to do with it... could you please enlighten me... y'know, because I'd really like to know how you are going go about changing this cute little sports car back into that old rust-bucket of a lame excuse for truck of your's... y'know, without calling any undo attention to the actual deed itself?"
"Well...", Jean began, "...I was thinking that the most advantageous way for me to handle the magical change-over is to have it occur somewhere in between... shall we say... the hours of three and five this morning... y'know, like when darn near everybody and his brother should be fast asleep."
"But what about Murphy's Law, Jean?
"I mean... you know as well as I do... oh, femmified husband of mine... given our run of bad luck here of late... that somebody... or a group of somebodies... y'know, like... shall we say... a group of teenage hooligans.. y'know, who should be home... asleep in their beds... but aren't... y'know, because their parents have no control over 'em anymore... y'know, and they come cruising down the street... y'know, round about the time this little BMW roadster is in the process of changing back into your rust corroded pickup..."
"Won't happen!", Jean interjected, as he turned off the ignition and removed the key.
"And why won't it happen?", Ann demanded as she reached over and released her seat-belt.
"Because, dear... I won't let something like that happen.
"You see, Ann... what I plan on doing is to rig this time- delay transformation spell of mine in such away that it will only be triggered when there is absolutely no one around to observe it. Okay?
"I mean...", Jean said as he, as a she, opened his door, "...that should suffice... shouldn't it, Ann...
"I mean... even if our neighbors do take note of this rather snazzy little roadster... y'know, like when they take their dog out for a late night stroll... tomorrow morning... when it's gone and my pickup is occupying the very same parking place... they'll probably just figure that the BMW belonged someone else... y'know, who was just visiting somebody... y'know, like one of our neighbors..."
"Yeah...", Ann reluctantly concurred. "You're probably right, Jean... But...", an unsettle Ann postulated, "...what if somebody sees the two us go into our house?"
"So what if they do, Ann! More than likely, they'll just take us for the visitors... especially so since we both bear a striking resemblance to your former self... oh, little bogus twin sister of mine!
"In other words, Ann... if some neighborhood busybody is watching us... y'know, like right now... given the family resemblance that I've incorporated in these rather angelic, cover-girl like faces of ours'... we'll either be taken for your younger sisters... or... if not that... perhaps, a couple of your nieces... y'know, who just happen be on their college mid-term break... and while they are in town... they are taking advantage of the situation by visiting members of their family... y'know, as in: us'ins!"
* * *
Though Jean was utterly dismayed by the ignominious fact that he, as a most obedient and femmified jinn, was compelled by his wife's wish to do so, as soon as the door was closed and locked behind him, he triggered his magical where-with-all and skillfully applied it to the apparel he was wearing. Instantaneously, the micro mini-skirt and electric blue blouse combo that Ann had so perversely and playfully decked him, as a her, out in were metaphysically retrofitted into an extremely brief skirted version of a saucy, if not scandalous, black stain French maid's uniform, complete with white lacy cuffs, collar and abbreviated apron.
"Ann!", Jean, having given his herified self the once-over, protested. "Please! I implore you! You're not seriously going to make wear this outfit... are you?"
Ann, having taken a long moment to get an eyeful of her femme fatale of a husband, scoffed, "And just why wouldn't I, Jean... y'know, given the fact that you look simply scrumptious in it!
"But nothing, Jean!", Ann, though she couldn't quite pull it off, attempted a stern retort. "I don't want to hear any of your guff!
"Besides, Jean... this morning... when I told you that I would wear that very same outfit... y'know, as... shall we say... a precursor to our love-making... you were as happy as a proverbial pig shit!
"And don't tell me you weren't... y'know, because we both know you were!
"And remember what I said about that gander and goose crappolla... y'know, that they - Whomever in the hell 'they' are! - are always talking about! Well... be it known... now that your one of the geese... oh, femmified husband of mine... it's high time you start appreciating how the other half lives!
"In other words, Jean... like it or lump it... from here on out... you'd best reconcile yourself to looking like something born out of one of those infamous wet dreams of your's!"
"Well...", Jean replied, having once again scrutinized his herified self, "...if that was your goal, Ann - Guess what! - I do believe that you've come close to achieving what you set out to achieve!"
"What do you mean by 'close', Jean?", Ann demanded tersely.
"Well... though this is... what I guess you might call... a sexually enticing outfit... oh, love of my life... and while I did - in fact - purchase one just like it for you... y'know, as more or less a gag gift... y'know, never holding out any expectations that you'd ever actually wear it... I think you ought to know that... while I think it's... I guess you could say... appealing... it's not exactly my cup of tea... y'know, given the fact that... while I'm kind of turned on by the satin... you know as well as I do that I'm not into a whole lot of lacy things..."
"That's right!", Ann agreed. "I plum forgot all about that little aversion of your's... and how you hate frilly, feminine things... y'know, that are resplendent with bows and lace and little doodads... y'know, like all over the place!
"Tell you what I'm going to do, Jean! I going to be magnanimous and give you a reprieve from wearing that outfit! Alright?"
"You will!", Jean beamed. "I must say: I really appreciate that, Ann!"
"Alright then... Let me see...", Ann began thoughtfully.
"Tell you what, Jean! Since I did promised you that I would wear that particular outfit for you tonight... and since you did hold up your end of the bargain... y'know, even though everything got all balled up and you ended up with that new and thoroughly alluring body of your's... it's only fair that I hold up mine!
"So... here's what I going to do... oh, femmified husband of mine! In an effort to be as equitable as I can be... I wish for you to deck me out in an exact duplicate of that flirtatious, if not down right scandalous French maid outfit that you're wearing... while... at he same time... I wish for you to be fetchingly festooning within an outfit that's right out of one of your own fantasies. Y'know, as in: I want you - Jean! - to fashion for yourself an outfit that... for a lack of a better way to put this... dovetails with all those private, perverse, perverted and persnickety little foibles and fetishes of yours... y'know, as in: I want you to be garbed just like one of those brazen femme fatales that you conjure up in one of those sexual fantasies of your's!"
Reluctantly, knowing with a sheer and utter certainty how he, as a she, would look when every thing was all said and done, Jean acknowledged his wife's wish with a resigned, "Granted."
Instantaneously, Ann found herself scandalously arrayed in the scanty, French maid outfit that had, but a moment before, adorned her husband's femmified physique. Looking up, wondering what kind of revealing apparel her strangely contrived wish had fostered upon her bogus, twin sister of a husband, Ann gasped and then, unable to restrain herself, began to uncontrolable giggled as she beheld Jean, resplendent in the ears, cuffs and cotton tail of a bedazzling, silver, satinized version of the celebrated, endowment showcasing, Playboy Bunny's ensemble.
"My! My! Don't we look spiffy... not to mention, leggy and a little bit chesty... all dressed up like a lopped eared, satin clad, high heel wearing denizen of one of Hugh Hefener's now defunct Playboy Clubs!", Ann finally managed to humorously quip, once she had managed to stifle her laughing gag by a smidgen or two.
"So... tell me, Jean! With everything you have to choose from... y'know, in so far as erotic, male libido torquing, girllie-whirllie get-ups go... am I to take it that you really go ape-shit over the bunny look!"
"Yeah...", Jean sheepish admitted, as he, as a bunny clad she, pivoted on his silverized high heeled pumps and began to scrutinize his herified profile in their living room's magically mirror-tiled wall, "I guess so, dear... since it's like they say... y'know, about how the proof is in the pudding!"
"You mean to tell me...", Ann began anew, "...that your fantasies are proliferated with women decked out in Playboy Bunny costumes, Jean?"
"No...", her femmified husband, who was still busily scooping his herified self out, distractedly admitted, "...not always!
"I mean... if you really must know, Ann... I fantasize about women - chiefly among them you - wearing all kinds of exotic paraphernalia!
"However... if you really want to know why I'm all gussied up like I am now... y'know, in these ears, cuffs and fluff ball of a jaunty little cotton tail and all... basically, it all has to deal with the way you phrased that last wish of your's!"
"It most certainly does, Ann!
"You see... when push comes to shove... I guess you could say that this particular get-up is a perennial favorite of mine... y'know, as in: it's more or less and old standby... y'know, that I keep returning to... y'know, like over and over and over again..."
"Oh! Well then tell me something else... oh, femmified husband of mine... Have you ever fantasized about me wearing such an outfit?"
"Sure have, Ann! On numerous occasions... y'know, that defy even these enhanced abilities of mind to tally!"
"Hmm...", Ann's comeback was thoughtfully couched. "Tell you what, Jean... since I've always wondered what it would be like to wear a Playboy Bunny costume... why don't you use some of that new, discretionary magical power of your's and... I guess you could say... appease my curiosity... y'know, by decking me out in one as well... save that you ought to opt for another color... y'know, other than that stunningly silver hued outfit... y'know, that you've got on..."
"Okay, Ann! And just what color would you like?"
"Oh... I don't know, Jean... Tell you what! Since it's your fantasies that we're indulging here... why don't you just deck me out in your second favorite color..."
And so she was.
No sooner had Ann given her husband his marching orders, and she was attired in bunny getup of an eye-riveting, rich horizon blue.
"Whoa!", Ann exclaimed as she beheld herself brazenly resplendent in full bunny regalia. "Aren't we a pair!"
"Actually, honey,", Jean teased, as he, as the vagina equipped wish-fulfiller that he had so ignominiously become, once again employed cupped hands to jiggle and jostle those two ample and conically shaped chest melons of his herified form in a blatant effort to add emphasis to his forthcoming remarks, "You could have said: aren't we a foursome!
"I mean to tell you, Ann... seeing myself... and now you... decked out in these satinized dick teaser specials... y'know, that I'm always fantasizing about... is doing a real number on this friggin' male libido of mine!
"In other words... oh, love of my life...", Jean added, as he once again reached down and played a crass game of twat tweak with his herified loins, "I'm as horny as all get out!"
"I have no doubt that you are, Jean! Y'know, because these outfits are not only are extremely flattering... they sure as hell don't leave a lot to the imagination!"
"This is awful! Simply awful!", Jean, impassioned, commented. "I'm so friggin' turned on right now, Ann... it isn't funny!
"I mean... if I don't do something soon... y'know, to appease myself... I going to go ballistic! Y'know, as in this surging sense of horniness of mine is going to go right through the friggin' roof!
"So... if it's alright with you, Ann... I going to ask your indulgence... y'know, so that I can go upstairs and take care of what needs to be taken care of... y'know, before I go out of my ever lovin' gourd..."
"Sure, Jean...", Ann was endeavoring to be as magnanimous about such things as she could. "By all means... let's not stand on ceremony here!
"Tell you what... oh, femmified husband of mine! Since I haven't been able to see my way clear to being able to oblige you by taking care of those very feminine needs of that new, bodacious body of your's... it's more or less a given that you're going to have to take things into your own hands! So... what I'm am suggesting is: before you dash off... why don't you make like the cute little Playboy Bunny that you appear to be and conjure me up a Pina Colada... y'know, so that I can... shall we say... entertain myself down here in the living room... while you head on upstairs to our bedroom... and there... do whatever you have to do... y'know, to appease that surging sense of horniness of yours..."
Jean, needing no further prodding on his wife's part, did as directed.
That's to say that he, as the stacked, packed and nibble little sheling that he had been so underhandedly transsexualized into, magically whipped up a Pina Colada and as soon as Ann took possession of it, Jean was off to their bedroom and the self- induced pleasures that awaited him, as a her, there.
* * *
Almost immediately, Ann felt the void induced by her femmified husband's hasty leave taking. Though Ann knew that her husband - in his herified form - was just upstairs, attending to the taunts of his unbridled horniness, she felt disconcertingly alone and in a very eerie and unsettling manner of speaking, isolated.
In an effort to put those disquieting feelings behind her, Ann took a sip of her drink and began to stroll - model like - back and forth in front of the wall that Jean had - that afternoon - magically mirrorized.
'Damn! Am I a fantastic piece of work or what!', She thought to herself.
'I mean... I look absolutely terrific! Especially so... decked out in this get-up!
'I don't know how you did it... oh, hubby of mine! But you did good! Real good!
'I mean... I've never - Ever! - felt anything as near as sexy and alluring as I do right now!'
Then, after she had spent a couple of minutes appraising herself decked out in Playboy Bunny regalia, Ann moved to her favorite chair and, taking care not to spill any of her Pina Colada or crumple up her costume's tush mounted fluff of cotton tail, proceed to very daintily, if not seductively, seat herself.
Taking another sip of her drink, a very confused Ann Renyolds endeavored to once again re-examine the turmoil of her feelings.
'This is crazy! Absolutely... no holds bar crazy!
'I mean... while I'm no where near as turned on as my poor Jean was... y'know, a couple of minutes ago... if I'm going to be brutally honest and open with myself... I have to admit that something really weird is going on... y'know, because as loathed as I am to admit this... even to myself... damned if I'm not becoming as horny as all get out!
'Shit, girl!', Ann castigated herself, as she unconsciously began to provocatively caress the nylon encased run of her upper, inner thigh. 'Why... oh, why... did you ever go and make that asinine wish that - for all intent and purposes - turned your world topsy-turvy? Maybe... if you hadn't experienced life from Jean's male perspective... things wouldn't be bothering the way they are!
'Trouble is, girl... though you had no idea what you were getting yourself into... y'know, when you made that hasty and foolhardy wish of your's... you did.. if only for a few, brief, transitory moments... get to experience life form Jean's rather licentious point of view!', Ann continued to mull over the problem, as she set her drink on the table and, though she remain consciously oblivious to the fact that she was doing so, employed that freed up hand of her's to first knead and then, teasingly fondle first one, and then the other, of her own eager and erratically palpitating breasts. 'And that... I'm sad to say... is the problem in a nut shell... y'know, because... no matter how hard you try... you can't get him - as a her - out of your mind!
'Come on, girl! As much as you like to deny it... latent homosexual or not... and as disturbing as it is for you to come to terms with... you've got to face the fact that... whether you like it or not... you - Girl! - have developed an amorous fixation for your husband... in this new, and ultra sex new physique of his... and it's driving you crazy!
'So... the question is, girl: what ya' gonna do?' Ann demanded, oblivious to the fact that she was on her feet and erratically pacing back and forth, as she further contemplated her sexually induced dilemma.
'Are you going to remain down here... all alone... feeling sorry for yourself... while your husband is upstairs... in your bedroom... doing who-knows-what to that new, bodacious body of his...
* * *
As bemused and befuddled as she was, Ann had absolutely no idea at all as to just what in the world she was going to do. As she continue to carry on a heated debate within herself, she began to aimlessly wander about the first floor of their town- house; alternating between nervously fidgeting with this, that and the other thing and teasingly dickering around with one or another of her eager to be fondled erogenous zones. Then, though she was completely oblivious to the fact that she was doing so, due to the sexually induced blue flunk that permeated her being, Ann absentmindedly ambled over to the stairs leading to the second floor of their town-house and, as she halfheartedly began to re-position a few shelf-residing nicknacks, she began to lackadaisically made her way up them.
Before she knew it, and having no conscious recollection as to how she got there, Ann found herself standing in their bedroom's doorjamb, looking on as her femmified husband lay on their bed - devoid of his bunny apparel - using both of his well manicured hands to crassly titillate and grope the livin' shit out of his herified self.
Standing there, in the doorway, gazing on, as her husband's magically re-sexualized body helpless wriggle in spasmodic counterpoint to the sexual ministrations he, as a she, was fostering upon his herified self, Ann, for the briefest of fleeting, transitory moments, was consumed with a sense of unbridled envy, the like of which she never - Ever! - throughout her whole entire life, imagined possible. Thankfully, her feelings of intense and, to a degree, malicious jealousy came and went in a twinkling of an eye. And, as they did, that short lived, though primordially savage feelings of envy of hers, were superseded by a harmonic sense of empathy that went straight to her heart and there, ensnared her being by plunging her physicality into the billowing sense of sexual ecstasy that her sexpot of husband was even then, busily engendering within his own ultra feminized physique.
'Damn!', Ann vehemently exclaimed to herself, as she helplessly reached down and began to slowly and enticingly draw her middle finger up along the central swath of her satin encased crotch crease.
'This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!
'Here you are, girl! Looking on! Watching your jinnified husband play a crass game of grab tush with his herified self! Wanting... in the worst friggin' way imaginable... to do be able to get past these reservations and revulsions of your's... y'know, so you could do the same... or... better yet... join him... y'know, so you could do unto him... as he has... on so many, many numerous occasions... done unto you!
'I mean... it sure as hell would be nice - Girl! - if you could see your way clear to turning the tables on him... and there by, initiate him in this new womanhood of his... y'know, by teaching him just what it's like to be multi-orgasmic, pillow eating, femmed-out lesbian nymphomaniac!
'Shit! This is terrible! Simply terrible!
'One wish! One simple wish... and that's all it would take, girl!', Ann mused as she fondle a breast with one hand and energetically groped herself out with the other.
Then, having reached the critical, shit-or-get-off-the-pot disembarkation point of her rather dysfunctional thought processes, Ann Renyolds made, want would surely be, the hardest decision of her life, and so, resignedly exclaimed, "Ah, the hell with it!",
"Jean! Jean!.", she frantically clamored in an all out effort to garnish her husband's attention. "I wish...", she stutter stepped through a short lived hesitation, "I wish... I wish that you would turn me into your lesbian lover..."
Jean, amidst a bouquet of autoerotically induced whimpers and choked-off squeals of pure, unadulterated pleasure, managed, though he, as a she, never could fathom how he ever did so, a feeble, to be almost inaudible, though gratefully aired, "Granted..."
* * *
As Jean's feebly spoken 'granted' wafted across the intervene space, Ann became keenly aware that something stupendous had occurred up inside her psyche. Homosexual interactions that had been - but a moment before - an anathema to her; so much so that even the mere contemplation of such would caused her stomach to churn and, subsequent to that, burn, no longer troubled or upset her. She knew - without the shadow of a doubt - that she had become a full fledged lesbian, who lusted - in the worst friggin' way imaginable - in her heart of hearts, to have her way with her femme fatale of husband.
"Jean!", she frantically intoned, as she began a hasty and impassioned advance towards the bed and the supine figure of her herified hubby. "I've got one more wish for you!
"My wish is for you to get me out of this scintillating Playboy Bunny costume! P. D. Q.!"
Jean, who was gleefully anticipating what would happen next, did as directed.
"Alright, buster!", a nude Ann wickedly teased, as she placed a knee on the bed. "Move that new and delectable tush of your's over a smidgen or two! 'Cause... like it or not... I'm coming on board!"
A delighted Jean, while vigorously continuing to grope his herified self out to beat the band, scooted that new and sexually enticing derriere of his to the side, allowing Ann more than ample room to slipped in snugly alongside of his glamor girl-like physique. Then, as Ann did so, given that Jean still possessed a mind that was one hundred and eighty degrees out of sexual sync with that new and bodacious body that he had been so ignominiously fitted out with, he, as the sheling that he had become, in a very manly manner, attempted to take charge of the situation by reaching out and enfolding his body double of a wife in those emasculated arms of his ultra herified deployment.
"Now wait just a ding-dong minute... oh, femmified hubby of mine!", Ann mockingly protested, as she frustrated Jean's embracing efforts by placing a firm, resistive hand just above those two, new, conical chest melons of her husband's feminized form.
"I know you are accustom to taking... shall we say... the initiative... y'know, when it comes to us and these love making sessions of our's... but be advised, Jean... those days are over! From here on out... oh, lesbian love of my life... everything is going to be on an even-stephen bases!
"In other words, Jean... now that your anatomy is that of a fully functioning female... we are going to take turns turning one another on!
"Sometimes... you'll be in the driver's seat. Other times, though... I will!
"As for tonight... oh, bogus twin sister of mine... even though - technically speaking - you might consider me the neophyte... y'know, when it comes to the lesbian business and various techniques one employs when making love to a woman... I do believe that it's only fair that it falls to me... your happily wedded wife and now, lesbian lover... to give you and this new body of your's a proper initiation... y'know, into what it feels like to be a sexual vanquished, multi-orgasmic female!
"So...", Ann coquettishly continued as she pushed her husband to his back and proceeded on to nimbly straddled him, as a her, "...what I strongly suggest you do... oh, femmified husband of mine... is to just lay back... close those big, beautiful blue eyes of your's... and enjoy the hell out of what your lesbian lover of a wife is about to do to you! And later... after I finishing giving you a thorough tongue lashing... and you've recovered somewhat from the string of orgasms that I fully intend engendering... maybe... if you are a good little girl, Jean... I might even give you a chance to... shall we say... return the favor..."
* * *
And with that said, an impassioned Ann Renyolds, without any reservations what so ever on her part, began in earnest. Bending at the waist, she leaned her torso forward and vigorously planted a lip-lock on Jean's lusciously puckered lips.
One impassioned kiss followed another until Ann, in a move that clearly demonstrated the fact that she had unequivocally assumed the role of the sexual aggressor, plunged her tongue deep into Jean's oral cavity. In heated succession, French kiss followed French kiss and Jean, though it shocked the livin' shit out of his thoroughly manly aligned libido, found that his new, femmed out to the friggin' max of a body was a whole hell of a lot more sensitive and therefore, responsive than he even imagined it would be.
Though Jean, as the magical empowered temptress that he had so unwittingly become earlier on that day, endeavored, on several occasions, to take charge of the situation and there by, provide additional proof that old habits do die hard, Ann would have none of it. Each and every time her femmified husband made so much as a half-hearted attempt to take matters into his own hands and there by, reverse their roles in the ongoing encounter, Ann, employing any and all means she deemed necessary, made it perfectly clear to her femmified husband that she would not be deterred from doing what she was doing, nor would she relinquish the dominate role of the male-like lover that she had so impishly and dogmatically assigned to herself.
Then, as her husband's bod of a most alluring body helplessly wriggled and jiggled beneath her, Ann cunningly elected to re-targeted her efforts, as her lips teasingly broke contact with Jean's and moved on to that most becoming, aristocratic neck of his herified physique. And in both a calculated and corresponding move, Ann opted to open up a second front by bringing the fingers of her right hand into play and using them to delicately caress and entice the livin' shit out of the inner run of her husband's upper thigh.
"Ann!", Jean, amidst a wealth of whimpers and moans, managed. "Do you have any idea at all what in the world you doing to me?"
Ann, with an impish inflection resounding clearly in the intonations of her voice, aware that, in her zeal, she may have sucked just a wee bit to hard and, perhaps, a wee bit to long, and there by, staking out her claim on Jean by giving him, as a her, his first lesbian engendered hickey, knowingly responded. "Given all the times you have done the very same sort of shit to me... oh, femmified husband of mine... I think it more or less goes without saying that: yes... I know exactly what I'm doing to you..."
Having said that, Ann return her attention to the graceful run of her hubby's femmified neck, and there, after a few gentle pecks, began to slowly, but steadily, marched those tender, tongue-swirling lip-caress of her's downward, drawing ever closer to Jean's chest and those two, newly insulted, titty surmounted, ample endowments of his.
"Oooo...", Jean, unable to stifle his herified self, reflexively moaned, as his wife's tongue teasingly and excruciatingly began to twirl about the enlarged areola of his left breast.
Moments later, as Jean's body helplessly wriggled and squirmed beneath her orally applied ministrations, Ann upped the ante of her second front, as she nudge her husband's legs into a slightly splayed position and, employing an extended middle finger, began to trace - ever so tentatively, ever so seductively - over the multiple lip folds of Jean's newly installed and love- juice gushing honey pot.
Then, having dickered in and around the slick, satinized vestibule of her husband's vaginal orifice for a few exploratory minutes, Ann, who was even then in the process of transferring her oral titillation endeavors, moving them from Jean's left nipple to his right one, decided that it was high time to show her husband what being a physically functional female was all about. Knowing that Jean was in for the second biggest surprise of his life, reasoning that the first must surely have been the ignominious realization that he been so underhandedly turned into a stacked and packed member of the opposite sex, Ann, anticipating his reaction, teasingly drew her probing finger farther forward and, after a moment or so of frenzied groping on her part, found, hidden beneath the forward most portion of the primary lip folds of her hubby's newly installed vagina, the evasive little nub of skin that lay - Ann knew and Jean would soon come to realize for his own herified self - at the sexual epicenter of his new, magically imposed and most alluring physical manifestation.
Jean, unable to contain his herified self, shirked with sublime delight, as Ann's finger came in contact with that new, little clitoral protrusion of his femmified physique and gently began to lovingly tweak the livin' shit out it.
Then, though she knew - without the shadow of a doubt - that she could just as easily continue on with those arousal engendering finger-massages of her's and there by, bring her husband to the full blown fulfillment of his first orgasmic climax as a fully functional female, Ann, spurred on as she was by her own lesbian couched desires, plus the fact that she - herself - had been - on so many, many numerous occasions - the grateful recipient of her husband's altruistic act of cunnilingus, was well aware of the fact that it was only right and just that now that she had been granted the opportunity, she should gladly, if not eagerly, do unto him, as he had so selflessly done unto her.
Breaking off oral contact with the nipple of Jean's right breast, Ann, in gleeful anticipation revolving around the fact that she was about to torque the livin' shit out of her femmified husband's arousal quotient, began to kiss her way down across the central portion of Jean's trim little tummy, as she deftly moved to re-position herself inside the splay of her husband's seductively re-sculptured lower extremities. Stopping momentarily to swish her tongue about the intriguing indentation of his cute, little inny of navel, Ann proceeded on to lip-pucker and tongue-swirl her way all the way down to the tidy, veed swath of vaginal hair where in nestled that charming little pussy of Jean's herified embodiment. There, without any reservation or trepidation on her part, Ann, having moistened the tip of her tongue as a preparatory measure, slipped it easily and effortless into the forward crevasse of her husband's newly installed vagina, where upon, locating the Jean's clitoral nub, began to lovingly swirl and twirl it about.
Jean, who, as the man that he had been born to be, upon occasion, like whenever he was slightly inebriated and joshing around with some of his best beer drinking buds and Ann wasn't around to hear what he had to say, had been known to sarcastically quip that even the worst blow-job he had ever had, was absolutely, no holds bar, fantastic. Ann, he knew, wasn't as much of the devotee of the pleasure garnishing act of fellatio as he was. Jean was well of the fact that it had taken his straight laced wife quite awhile to come to terms with the prospect of going down on him. However, he also was well aware of the fact that she didn't perform fellatio because she felt she was under some sort of obligation to so, but rather because she, knowing how much she relished being the recipient of oral sex herself, thought it was only fair that she reciprocate and return the favor. Truth be told, once Ann had gotten past the distasteful contemplation of the act itself, and starting using fellatio as sort of a precursor to copulation, she found that she actually derived a wealth of satisfaction knowing how much of an erotic effect she was having on her husband.
However, be that as in may be, the point of all this is: Jean, who was use to having his penis oral stimulated on a fairly regular bases, was totally unprepared for the excruciating amounts of sheer, unadulterated erotic pleasure that Ann's tongue lashing had begun to engender.
Granted, Jean had long contended that when it came to sex, given their wealth of erogenous zones and their innate ability for any number of repeat performances, women had the potential - and the key word here is 'potential' - to derive a hell of a lot more enjoyment out of a sexual tete-a-tete than their male counterparts did. Trouble was, Jean was always quick to point out, the sad and awful truth of the matter was that far to many men were nothing more than brutish oafs, who were totally out for themselves and therefore, didn't give a rat's ass about their sexual partners. They weren't making love. They were screwing; getting their rocks off and if the woman they screwed enjoyed it, that was all well and good. If they didn't, the egotistical, self-center bastards weren't about to lose any sleep over it. As long as these low-life louts got off on the act, that was all that mattered to them.
Jean, to his credit, would have absolutely nothing to do with guys who held women in such low esteem. True, he might have to professionally interact with such low-lifes and scuzzballs at work, but other than that, when and wherever possible, he avoided being around them.
Women in general and Ann in particular, to Jean's way of thinking, were something to be cherished and respected. And, due to the fact that he - pre-shedom - held women in such high regard, that precept of his was clearly manifested in his approach to love-making.
But anyhow... be that as it may be... even though Jean had always postulated that, when it came to sexual pleasure department, women had it head and shoulders over their male counterparts, he was shocked as shit to realize just how right he was.
Being the recipient of fellatio was one thing. Being the recipient of cunnilingus was quit another altogether.
One was great. The other far surpassed the upper thresholds of slam, bam, thank-you-mam terrific.
In other words, Ann's oral ministrations were doing a real number on her femmified husband's psyche, in effect, titillating that new, little clit of his in a blatantly inducement to go were no man has ever gone before.
Jean, vanquished as he, as a she, was, by successive waves of excruciating and unimaginable erotic pleasure, had been enslaved by the wealth of passions that gushed outward from that tiny new clitoral nub of his and wickedly and wildly coursed and cavorted all throughout his whole, entire herified system. Involuntarily, his new bod of a body rived under Ann's oral ministration. Those newly splayed hips of his, madly began to gyrate. Again and again, violent muscle spasm arched and un- arched that subtle new back of his. He bucked and squirmed, damn near coming within a vaginal hair's breath of dislodging Ann from her-head-in-his-newly-re-configured-crotch positioning on several occasions.
Ann, for her part, was ecstatic, knowing that she was achieving exactly what she had hoped to achieve. The more her femmified husband wriggle and squirmed; the more he, as a she, moaned and squealed; the more turned-on Ann became.
She soon realized that while fellatio gave her a modicum of control over the proceedings, cunnilingus put her firmly in the driver's seat. Jean, caught up in the rapture of the moment as he, as a she, was, had - in effect - become his wife's sexual play-toy. As long as she continued to flick that new little Bic of his - so to speak - Ann was in complete control.
Trouble was, things were progressing a tad bit faster than Ann would have liked.
As far as Ann was concerned, she had just gotten started munching at Jean's metaphysically installed 'Y' when she became intuitively aware of the fact that her husband was quickly approaching the moment of sweet release. Maybe, that was due to the prevailing sense of horniness that Jean had been contending with ever since he had initially emerge from the lamp, only to find himself ensconced within such a heavenly physique as the one they both now wore. Or maybe, it was due to the fact that this was Jean's first time experiencing sex from the perspective of a physically functional female. Or, perhaps, it was due to a mixture of the two.
Ann didn't know. Nor, did she care. She only new that a couple more teasingly delivered tongue swirls on her part would accomplish what she had set out to accomplish.
As for her husband, he was keenly, if not eagerly aware of the very same fact that Ann was.
Then, just when he, as the pert and perky sheling that he had so ignominiously been transsexualized into, reached a state of erotic stimulation where the intense and debilitating pleasure coursing through his herified body had become so unbearable that it bordered on the thresholds of unrestrained and unrequited agony, Jean's emotions were further savaged, as he, as a she, experienced his first clitoral induced orgasm.
Then, following on the heels - most likely a pair of stiletto ones - of Jean's first orgasmic climax as a physically functioning female, the femmed-out physique housing his thoroughly manly, dirty old man aspiring libido was wracked by a second orgasm... and then, though their severity was lessening incrementally... by a third one... a forth... and a fifth one... followed by another... and another one after that... and so on... and so on... until he, as a she, feeling not only totally done in, but physically and mentally vanquished as well, passed in the kaleidoscope-like serenity of post-orgasmic bliss and there, as he, in all his feminine glory, wallowing in the warm fuzzes of bifurcated wonderment, began to savor each and every nuance of what he, as a new sheling, had just experienced.
* * *
Ann, though she was chomping at the bit to debrief Jean and there by, get his take on what had just happen to him, as a physically revamped her, wisely opted to bid her time; knowing, with a sheer and utter certainty, that Jean would need a few moments to get this new and fully feminized shit of his herified self together. Then, as her body double of a femme fatale of a husband lay there, for all intent and purposed, helplessly enraptured within the varying hues of the warm fuzzes of post- orgasmic bliss, Ann took full advantage of Jean's sexually traumatized state of mind and deftly re-positioned herself by moving up alongside of the supine, quivering figure of her hubby's thoroughly herified physique. There, knowing that her husband needed her compassion and understanding more than he, as a she, needed anything else, Ann, in a blatant role-reversal, without the utterance of a single, solitary word, gently reached over and enfolded Jean within the loving empathy of an impassioned and clearly sympathetic embrace.
Though her own sense of surging horniness was piqued and was quickly reaching a point where it would require assuaging in the worst friggin' way imaginable, Ann, knowing that her husband's immediate needs by far superceded those of her own, lay there, cuddling her femmified husband, as she tenderly combed a consoling and compassionate hand through the golden tresses of her husband's unbounded locks. A sigh - a deep, resolute sigh of unburdening - informed Ann that her lesbian lover of a husband had reluctantly returned to the land of the living.
"So...", Ann impishly entreated.
"So...", an uncomprehending and bemused Jean Renyolds bewilderedly returned in a manner which clearly informed his lesbian lover of a wife that he, as the she that he had become, had absolutely no friggin' idea where Ann was going with this particular inquiry of her's.
"So... oh, femmified husband of mine... what ya' think?"
"Oh...", Jean's sexy new voice took on a sheepish, to be almost conspiratorial, inflexion. "Well... if you really most know, Ann... I do believe that that was the most fantastic... most exhilarating... most mind boggling... mind blowing thing I've ever... in my whole, entire life... experienced!
"It was... was it?", Ann teasingly jeered.
"Oh, yeah!", there was no equivocation in Jean's reply. "It most certainly was!
"I mean... it was great and... just so you'll know, Ann... there's absolute no comparison! Y'know, between the orgasm that accompanies male ejaculation and that marvelous string of orgasms that just now racked this new and thoroughly feminized bod of a most bodacious body of mine!"
"Then...", Ann sought clarification, "...am I to take it that you liked 'em, Jean?"
"Like 'em! Hell, Ann! I loved 'em! I simply loved 'em!
"I mean... while I knew they'd be different... y'know, from what I've been use to... truth be told, Ann... they far surpassed even my wildest expectations of what female orgasms would be like!
"Then...", Ann broke in once again, "As a lover... I did good?"
"Good! You didn't do just good, Ann! You did great!
Fact is: you were fantastic! Absolutely... no holds bar... fan-friggin'-tastic!
"I mean... even before you went down on me... y'know, and gave me that fantastic and thorough tongue lashing of your's... let me tell you something! You had me so friggin' turned on, Ann... it wasn't funny!
"I mean... I thought this new twat of mine had been gushing love juices to beat the band before! But let me tell you something, Ann! When you touched me... y'know, down there...", Jean said, employing his unencumbered hand to indicate that new, veed swathed crevasse crease of his, "...you opened the friggin' flood gates!"
"I did... did I?", a delighted Ann playfully asked.
"Yes... you most certainly did!"
"So... if I'm hearing you correctly, Jean... is it within the realm of possibilities that you may have taken a shine to the multi-orgasmic aspect of this new femininity of your's?"
"Yeah...", Jean was grudgingly thoughtful, "...if... in fact... this new and ignominious condition of mine has a redeeming aspect... or... if you will... a silver lining to it... I guess that the multi-orgasmic business would indeed be it, Ann..."
* * *
"Ann...", Jean began with a hint of hesitation evident in the sultry, seductress-like timbre of newly herified voice, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
"I do believe, dear... you just did.", Ann good-naturedly teased, as she leaned in and planted an endearing kiss smack, dab in the center of her husband's wrinkle-free forehead.
"Ann!", Jean complained. "Come on now! You know fully well what I meant!"
"Well... of course you can ask me a question... you ninny! You know that you can ask me anything you want to, Jean!
"So... tell me... oh, multi-orgasmic husband mine! What's on that thoroughly manly mind of your's? "
"Well... I guess what I was wondering was: what caused you to take the lesbian plunge... y'know, what with all those long held and well founded aversions of your's... oh, wifey of mine?"
"To tell you the truth, Jean... I'm not really sure."
"You're not!", Jean incredulously exclaimed.
"No... not really...
"I mean...", Ann continued, "...I knew that in light of what happened to you... y'know, what with you and your becoming not only a magic wielding genie... but a fully functioning female as well... that our sex life was... for all intent and purposes... over... y'know, unless I could see my way clear to getting past my aversions to engaging in sexual acts... y'know, with another woman...
"And then, Jean... when you dashed upstairs... y'know, to... shall we say... get it on with yourself... leaving me alone in the living room... to... I guess you could say... sort of fend for myself... as much as I hate to admit this... I was more than a little envious of you... y'know, because you were getting those new, feminine rocks of your's off... y'know, all by your lonesome... and that - I have to confess! - didn't sit well with me at all!
"In other words... oh, femmified husband of mine... I was as jealous as all get out and horny as hell to boot!
"Then... when I saw you on our bed... y'know, groping yourself out to beat the band like you were... something snapped! And before I was even aware that I was doing so... I found myself making that wish that... I think it's fair to say... put the kibosh on all those aversions of mine... while at the same time... made it possible for me fall head of heels in love-lust with you... my dearest darling... y'know, like in all over again!"
"And you don't have any regrets?", Jean felt compelled to ask.
"No, Jean! No regrets what-so-ever! Fact is: once you granted that wish of mine... y'know, that turned me into your lesbian lover... I knew... without the shadow of a doubt... that I had made the right decision!
"Oh... I'm happy to hear you say that, Ann", Jean interjected. "And just so you know... I am so very, very glad you had that... shall we say... sexual epiphany of your's... y'know, because... if there's one thing that'll make this girl- shit of mine palatable... y'know, like over the long haul... it's the fact that you and I can still intimately interact with one another.
"I mean... there's no way I can ever show you how much I appreciate what you've done for me, Ann... y'know, when you directed me to turn you into my lesbian lover!"
"For us, Jean!", Ann tersely corrected. "I didn't do it for you! I didn't do it for me! I did it for us! I did it because I love you! Irregardless of the fact that you're now the same sex that I am, Jean... as crazy as it must surly sound... I find myself still very much in love you! And because of that... and because I know... in my heart of hearts... that you still love me... I did it to insure that - come hell or high water - this marriage of ours would remain intact and viable!
"And...", Ann good-naturedly teased, as she took one of her husband's hands in her own and deftly place it on the rise of her own ample right breast, "...while you might not be able to come up with a fitting way to show your appreciation for my taking the lesbian plunge... oh, multi-orgasmic, sham of a bogus twin sister of mine... I most certainly can... y'know... if... that's is... you think you've reached a point where you've gotten your shit together and you're now physically capable of... shall we say... returning the favor... y'know, by taking on the role of the dyke in this newly defined, homosexual relationship of our's... y'know, and do whatever you have to do... y'know, to drive this physically upgraded body of mine into a sexual frenzy to end all sexual frenzies...
* * *
Jean, needing no further prodding or prompting, promptly did as his lesbian lover of a wife had so teasingly suggested.
Or, to put that another way, playing the role of the man he could no longer lay claim to being, Jean - very adroitly mind you - put that lecherous, dirty old man aspiring libido of his in gear and, employing the complimentary slow-hand and swirling tongue methods of erotic titillation, began to drive Ann - in a purely sexual sense - absolutely, no holds bar bonkers.
Then, just as Ann was drawing neigh to the apogee of orgasmic fulfillment, Jean, in an all out effort to heighten the pleasure his wife would derive out of the experience, accessed some of that discretionary magical power that he, as an emancipate jinn, was now privy to and used it to temporary transform the index and middle fingers of his right hand into a fully functioning phallus and its' corresponding thumb into a self-moistening, dual-lipped, tongue equipped, erotic stimulating thing-a-ma-jig.
Now, while it caused a very turned-on Ann Renyolds a moment of sheer, unadulterated panic, Jean, in an effort to bring that metaphysically re-engineered hand of his into the fray, broke off his clitoral targeted oral ministrations and, drawing his legs up, out and over of the splay of his wife's supplely crafted lower appanages, moved to re-positioned his herified self alongside of Ann's supine form. Then, before a very hysterical Ann could either question or complain about the secession of the clitoral tongue lashing that her herified husband had been, but a moment before, so eagerly engaged in lavishing upon her, Jean brought that magically transformed hand of his herified physique into play. Using the mouth-mimicking thumb of that re-configured hand of his to take up where his oral ministrations had left off, Jean, through the auspicious of a very cleverly delivered clitoral massage, continued to torque the livin' shit out of Ann's throbbing clit. Then, as he, as the sheling that he had so ignominiously become, planted an impassioned, French styled lip- lock on his wife's mouth, Jean slowly and teasingly plunged that metaphysically crafted penis of his into the satinized well of his wife's pussy and began a slow, tantalizing, rhythmically delivered, in and out pumping action.
"Jean!", Ann, amidst a bouquet of impassioned whimpers, moans, and erotically induced squeals, shrieked. How? How in the world are you doing what you're doing to me?"
Jean, ignoring his lesbian lover of a wife's pointed inquires, asked a question of his own. "Do you like it?"
"Yes!", Ann was frantic. "Oh, yes! I love feeling you inside of me like this, Jean! But how... How are you managing it?"
Jean, knowing the answer his lesbian lover of a wife sought might prove counter-productive at the moment and there by, upset the proverbial apple cart, given how revolted Ann had been when he, as a she, had changed his hand into a set of male genitalia in order to demonstrate that such a thing was possible should Ann wish it so, opted to sidestep the issue by saying, "I'll explain it all to you later, Ann! For right now though... all I want you to do is lay back and to enjoy it!"
Then, in an effort to distract his wife further, Jean bent those new luscious lips of his herified physique to the nipple of Ann's left breast and began to suck and tongue-tweak the livin' shit out it!
* * *
"Wow!", Ann, in the midst of a most satisfying orgasmic afterglow, finally managed a comment. "That was really something!
"Jean! You really out-did yourself this time!"
"I did...", Jean quizzically, if not humbly, inquired.
"Oh, yeah... You done good! Real good!
"Maybe...", Ann began to postulated, "...we can chalk it up to the newness... or... I guess you could say... the uniqueness of our rather convoluted situation... y'know, with the two of us being lesbian lovers and all...
"But tell me something else... oh, multi-orgasmic husband of mine...
"How did you manage that penetration bit... y'know, with you laying alongside of me like you were?
"Well...", Jean, in an effort to minimize the effect that the truth might have on his lesbian lover of a wife, began gingerly, "...remember this afternoon... when I did that thing with my hand... y'know, that you found so repulsive..."
"Jean! Are you saying that you changed your hand into a man's thing and took it and stuck it up inside of my you-know- what?"
Meekly, in a manner reminiscent of the infamous kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar scenario, Jean, though he, as a she that he had become, was loathed to do so, admitted that that was exactly what he had done.
Ann, acting a whole hell of a lot more perturbed than she really was, sternly countered, "But I thought you said that you couldn't do something like that! That the constrains placed upon you as a genie prohibited you from taking that sort of action!"
"Well... while it might sound like I'm equivocating here, Ann... y'know, and that's equivocating... as in: splitting hairs... while I was constrained from doing something like that on... shall we say... a permanent bases... I could... on a temporary bases... enact such changes... y'know, like for demonstration purposes and the like...
"However... in lieu of the emancipation you so graciously bestowed upon me, Ann... I find that I am no longer prohibited from doing such things with this new bod of a body of mine."
"You mean...", Ann was excited, "...you now have the ability to change that new vagina of your's into a man's genitals... y'know, so that we can make love like we use to, Jean?"
"No, Ann! I'm sorry to say that I am still strictly verboten from doing something of that nature...
"As sad as I am to say this... the way this damnable jinnhood of mine is rigged... female I am! And it's female I shall remain!"
"Oh!", Ann replied. "So... I guess what you're saying is: if I want to feel your you-know-what up inside of me... y'know, like whenever we're making love... it's the handway or the highway!"
Jean, concurring, "Yeah... that's about the size of it, Ann."
"Well...", Ann was thoughtful, "I'll tell you what... oh, femmified husband of mine... as long as you promise me - a cross your heart and hope to die kind of promise - that I will never - Ever! - have to look at it... touch it... or... more to the point... go down on it... you have my permission to use it whenever you make love to me... y'know, as... shall we say... an erotic stimulant... Alright?"
"Sure, dear... That sounds reasonable to me...
"However... if you don't want me to go the penis/hand-job route... there is another option open for us to explore, Ann."
"There is?", Ann was noticeable intrigued.
"There most certainly is!
"Since your vagina now serves as my corporeal repository, I could... should I elect to do so... de-materialize my lower extremities... from... shall we say... my waist downwards... y'know, into that swirling, multi-colored, whirligig-like vortex... and there by gain entry into that vaginally house repository of mine. Then... having done that... I can re- configure the portion of my digitized essence... y'know, that's up inside of you... into a simulated cock...
"Also... if... that is... you're not adverse to it, Ann... I can take another portion of that digitized essence of mine... y'know, that's still swirling and twirling about just outside of the multiple lip-folds of your you-know-what... and form it into... what you might call... a mouth-kabob... y'know, so that you can still derive pleasure from oral sex... while... at the same time... experience all the sensations that you associate with normal intercourse."
"I don't know, Jean... Sounds awful kinky to me!", Ann commented. "But... though it does... I have to admit... in a perverse and perverted sort of way... I find that I'm more than a little intrigued by that suggestion of your's...
"I mean... if we went that route... you could say that I be getting two types of sex for the price of one!
"Tell you what... oh, femmified husband of mine...", Ann impishly teased, as she proceeded on to reach down and deftly inserted her middle finger inside the forward portion of the primary lip-folds of her husband's twat and there, began to tweak and caress the little nub of Jean's clit, "...after I have another go-around with this delectable new body of your's...", Ann paused as she lowered her head and tenderly kissed the nipple of his right breast, "...and it's once again your turn to... I guess you could say... service me and these sexual needs of mine... tell you what, Jean! Why don't you give this rather unique suggestion of your's a try out... y'know, so that I can see if I'm going to like it or not..."
* * *
Jean was completely oblivious to the fact that his magically facilitated, penis emulating, hand-job had, like most things in life, unintended consequences; for as Ann began to erotically torque the livin' shit out of that sexually reconstituted bod of a body of his, she began to dicker around with an idea that had been festering and fermenting in her mind ever since that episode of the early afternoon, the very one in which she had briefly, yet traumatically, viewed the world through the mind blowing prism of her husband's thoroughly manly, testosterone driven, dirty old man aspiring libido.
Though she wasn't sure of the impetus behind what had possessed her to do such a thing in the first place, Ann was very glad that she had had the presence of mind to retained autonomous control over not only the articles of clothing that Jean would wear in this new, girlified physique of his, but also over both of their physical appearances as well. Hadn't she had the presence of mind to have done so, she wouldn't have been in the position to do what she was so diabolically contemplating on doing, due to the fact that she couldn't conceive of her femmified husband ever rubber-stamping the wish that would provide her with the necessary where-with-all to pull off the diabolically couched turnabout she had in mind.
Slowly, taking great pains to ensure that her herified hubby enjoyed every single, solitary nuance of the foreplay she was ardently engaged in lavishing on him, in that new and ultra sexy physique of his, Ann, using the very same techniques that Jean so deftly employed on her, stoked the livin' shit out of the fires of her femmified husband's ardor. Then, upon reaching the point where Jean was thoroughly captivated by the electrifying jolts of pure, pre-orgasmic pleasure he, as a she, was deriving from his wife's oral ministrations, Ann, knowing one: that her husband was primed and ready and, two: that if she was going to pull a sexual switcheroo on him, she had to do it in the next several moments or so, lifted her head out of her husband's newly feminized crotch and made the wish that would quickly put the kibosh on his all to recently imposed virginity.
"Jean!", Ann impishly implore. "I wish for you to change my pussy into a fully functioning set of male genitalia!"
Jean, helpless to do anything else, found his herified self forced to grant his wife's wish.
Ann, aware that, as a result of that devilishly concocted wish of her's, she now sported both testicles and a fully erect, blood infused, penetration-ready, male propagation rod, wasted no time at all in re-positioning herself up on top of her femmified husband torso, so that her ample endowments rested right atop of Jean's ample endowments. Nipple to nipple. Tit to tit. Then, as the head of that new penis of hers was poised on the outer lip-folds of her husband's well lubricated vagina, Ann, employing an impassioned pelvic thrust, drove that new manly shaft of her's deep into the satinized well of her husband's pussy, depriving him of that new maidenhead of his in the process.
Upon experiencing the sharp twinge of pain that heralded the tearing of his newly installed hymen and subsequent invasion of the satinized sanctum sanctorum of his own vaginal canal by his wife's metaphysically sculpted, sperm emitting, impregnation wand, Jean frantically shrieked, "Ann!"
Ann, who, to her own astonishment, was immediately caught up in the erotic frenzy of humping the livin' shit out of her herified husband, ignored Jean's impassioned plea to cease and desist as she fervently intoned. "I wish... I wish... I wish that we would experience simultaneous orgasms!"
Though it was garbled and therefore, damn near inaudible, delivered as it was amidst a whole slew of sexual squeals and erotically induced deep throated moans, Jean, fulfilling his newly imposed role of a wish fulfilling jinn of a genie, managed to somehow find within his herified self the where-with-all to utter the obligatory 'Granted!'.
And then, it was Katty bar the door time, as Ann, driven as she was by those new, testosterone induced passions of hers, vigorously proceeded on to give her husband's honey pot a thorough reaming out.
Jean, embroiled as he, as she, was, in the erotic frenzy of the moment, was so overwhelmed by the sensations that his new, built like a brick shithouse of a bod of a most bodacious body was experiencing, found his herified self helpless to do anything other than to lay there and enjoy the friggin' hell of being sexually vanished by his male genitalia equipped wife. Even though his thoroughly male oriented libido was repulsed and perturbed by Ann's debasing act of unsolicited vaginal penetration, Jean found that the mega amounts of pure, unadulterated erotic pleasure that he, as a newly ensconced sheling, was deriving from the presence of his wife's blood infused inseminating shaft, was so damn compelling and sexually intoxicating, that he could doing nothing, save to lay there, squealing and squirming, as he, as the she that he had been so rudely transsexualized into, endeavored, in a very convoluted and nonsensical way, to savor each and every nuance of the reaming out he, as a she, was so contemptuously on the receiving - (Dangling participles be damned!) - end of.
Oddly enough, Ann last wish, the one which dealt with the simultaneous orgasms business had its' own set of unintended consequences. Though Jean was consciously unaware of the fact, in lieu of his wife's latest wish, a wish that he, as the wish granting sheling that he had become, had been, in a sense, compelled by his raging sense of surging horniness to eagerly rubber-stamp, he was, in effect, lock unto the orgasmic fast track.
Or, to put that another way: there was no way in hell that Jean was going to get out of experiencing his first vaginal - as opposed to clitoral - string of orgasmic muscle spasms.
Likewise, Ann, unless she found the where-with-all within herself to rescind that last wish of her's, was also magically bound up in the very same sort of orgasmic commitment that her femmified husband was.
Or, to put it bluntly, the die had been cast. Ann had specified simultaneous orgasms and the Jean's magic, though he was totally unaware of it his herified self, would insure that it was simultaneous orgasms the two of them would have.
Point of fact. Prior to making that last wish of her's, Ann, who had been heatedly lavishing some first rate tongue-in- grove work on her herified hubby's overtly sensitized clitoral nub, was no where near as horny as Jean was.
So, since Jean was well on his herified way to another multi-orgasmic moment, where as, Ann wasn't, once that simultaneous orgasms wish of her's had been made and, subsequent to that, rubber-stamped by her jinnified husband, Ann's sense of horniness had to be magically torqued and then, torqued again, in order to give it parity with Jean's and there by guarantee that both of them would be primed and ready to come at the very same, exact moment in time.
Then, as their unbridled and harmonious sense of raging horniness began to exponentially compound in upon itself, the magically crafted lust-crazed Renyolds twins found themselves consumed with the most compelling of all the primal urges, with that foremost primal compulsion being: to bring their copulation efforts to there logical and most sexually satisfying conclusion.
Ann - a very lust crazed Ann - aware that all those new long-tailed spermmie-wormmies of her's were smartly queued up in the jump-gate/vestibule of her blood infused insemination rod, chomping at the proverbial bit to be given the green light/go- ahead order that would precipitate their mad ejection rush, began to frantically increase both the frequency and intensity of her pelvic thrusts. Jean - a very confused, albeit thoroughly turned-on Jean - or rather, that new, ultra femmified body of his, as the recipient of his wife's heightened copulation efforts, began to mystically prim itself for the 'Big O' of orgasmic, pillow-eating bliss.
Then, in the surging flicker of wild, unrestrained, erotic ecstasy, their horniness crested in a kaleidoscope of ricocheting, mind-boggling, mind-blowing emotions. Concurrently, as Ann's penis began to vigorously discharge not one - Not two! - but several spurts of DNA rich semen into the satinized well of her husband's pink little pussy, the Renyolds twins transcended the world of normal, human perceptions, as they entered the elusive, short-lived, idyllic wonderment of orgasmic and post- orgasmic rapture.
* * *
In an effort to savor every nuance of the previous experience, Ann maintained her position atop of Jean prostrate figure, so as to allowed that new and magically installed penis of her's all the time it needed to go limp inside the snug walls of her femmified husband's vaginal cavity. Then, once the head of that manly, sperm spewing wand of her's had, of and on it's own accord, withdrawn itself beyond the multiple lip-folds of Jean's twat, Ann, though she was extremely hesitant to do so, broke the prevailing sense of sublime, introspective silence that had permeated both of their moods.
Given the fact that Ann knew it would repulse her to no end were she to inadvertently glance down and catch so much as a fleeting glimpse of herself fitted out with a man's 'thing', she opted to address that issue first, even though she was chomping at the bit to indulged her curiosity and find out how her husband felt about what she had just up done to him, as a most curvacious and well endowed femme fatale of a metaphysically reconstituted female.
"Jean!", Ann said, in an effort to garnish her herified husband's attention. "First off... before we do anything else... oh, jinnified husband of mine... I wish for you to change my genitals back to that of a female."
Ann, having taken a quick little stutter-step of a moment to ensure that Jean had done as she had requested and that everything was back in order, sheepishly inquired, "So... oh, femmified husband of mine... what ya' think?"
"Well...", Jean, in an effort to be as tactful as possible, proceeded cautiously, "...all things considered, Ann... it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be at first..."
"Bad!", Ann, taken aback by Jean statement, barked incredulously . "Where do you get off saying that it wasn't as bad as you though it would be?
"I mean... you got off... didn't you? I mean... from my vantage point, Jean... it sure as hell looked as if that new body of your's was wracked by a whole slew of orgasms!"
"Yes, Ann...", Jean, dishearten, begrudgingly admitted. "...for your information... I did get off...
"In fact... dearheart... just so you know... you're dead on the money about me and my getting off several times... y'know, because I did experience a couple of real big - Slam! Bamb! Thank you ma'am! - kind of major orgasms... y'know, that were definitely of the female variety!
Y'know the kind of orgasms I'm talking about, Ann! Y'know, the kind that jolts the friggin' hell out of your body... the kind that electrifies you... the kind that sets your head to spinning... the kind that blows your toes and wriggles your nose... and... just to add insult to injury... makes damn sure that a poor shmuck like me... y'know, who use to be a guy... knows... in probably the most emphatic way imaginable... that he's a hell of a lot more of a woman than he'd ever - In his wildest friggin' dreams! - like to be!
"And then... after this new feminized physique of mine was wracked and ravaged by a couple... make that a solid two or three of those first class... tsunami-like... pillow-eating... cream- your-jeans... exhilarating... exaltation specials - Guess what, sweetie? - this new body of mine got to experience... what I can only describes as a whole slew of little... progressively diminishing in intensity... what you might call... Doppler-like after-shocks... y'know, as in mini-orgasms! Y'know, the kind johnny-come-lately type of orgasms that makes girls like us feel all warm and fuzzy and cozy and cuddly on the inside..."
"Okay then, Jean...", Ann demanded, "Please! I'd like to know! Just where in the hell does this 'bad shit' of your's factor into all of this?"
"Well...", Jean, not at all that happy with the prospect, tentatively began afresh, "...since what you just did to me could be considered ... were we getting all technical about it... tantamount to rape..."
"Rape!", Ann, who was as incredulous as all get-out, abruptly interjected. "What the hell are you talking about, Jean! I didn't rape you!
"I mean... how in the world could I have raped you when we were engaging in consensual sex?"
"In a manner of speaking, honey...", Jean, endeavoring to explain his herified self, "...you're right. We were engaging in a form - And the key word here is 'form', Ann! - of consensual sex. Y'know, because I wasn't about to complain or stop you from going down on me like you did... y'know, because... if I must say so myself... as crass as it must surely sound... I real dig the shit out of having you preform the selfless act of cunnilingus on me...
"However, Ann... if I had know that you were planning to have me change that pussy of your's into a man's pecker... y'know, so you could use it to have your fiendish little way with me... I never - Ever! - would have been a party to it!"
"And just why the hell not... oh, femmified husband of mine?
"I mean... come on now! I wasn't doing anything to you that you haven't done to me... y'know, on countless - And I do mean countless! As in: to many to even hazard a guess at! - occasions!
"Besides... if you want to get all technical on me, Jean... I could say that you also raped me!"
"I never...", it was Jean's turn to sound incredulous.
"Oh, yes you did!", Ann emphatically countered.
"Remember that hand job of your's? Y'know, when you changed that hand of your's into a man's you-know-what and shoved it up inside of me!
"But nothing, Jean!
"You never - Ever! - got my permission to do something as lewd and crude as that... now did you?"
"No, Ann... I most certainly did not...
"I should have... But regrettable... I didn't!
"I was wrong! I'm sorry! And I'll do my best to ensure that such will never - Ever! - happen again!
"But... be that as it may be, Ann! Don't you think that in this particular situation... y'know, with me being new to this friggin' girl shit and all.... that you're... shall we say... comparing apples to oranges!"
"I most certain am not... oh, bogus twin sister of mine!
"What we're talking about here is consent, Jean! You didn't get my consent to do what you did to me... y'know, with that penisified hand-job of your's... and I - I'm sad to say! - didn't get your consent to do what I went and did to you!
"So... as far as I'm concerned, Jean... the one act of non- consensual vaginal penetration more or less negates... or.. you could say... nullifies the other! Therefore... oh, adorable, pillow-eating hubby of mine... once again... as far as I'm concerned... everything is copacetic... y'know, copacetic as in: even-stephen!
"Now... as to our future love making sessions... since it's more or less a given that I'm sure as hell going to miss that old pecker of your's up inside me, Jean... y'know, like whenever we make love... I have a proposition to make.
"As long as I don't ever have to look at it... or touch it... or do whatever with it, Jean... you have my permission to do that icky, magical and perversely perverted thing you do with that hand of your's and use it to penetrate me... y'know, as long as I have your permission to... shall we say... return the favor... y'know, by having you turn my vagina into a fully functioning set of male genitalia... y'know, that I can use it to penetrate that new, little you-know-what of your's.
"I mean... if we're going to go with this goose and gander business of your's, Jean... y'know, even though we're both... for all intent and purposes... certified gooses now... I think it only fair that we're both on... shall we say... an equal footing!
"You mean...", Jean eagerly sought clarification, "...that you're actually suggesting that we do away with that long held, double-standard cop-out clause of your's, Ann... y'know, the one that you keeping insisting fall's within a woman's purview?"
"Yeah... though I'm sure as hell going to miss using it... y'know, as sort of a trump card to get the upper hand... I guess... now we're both of the female persuasion... that old double standard of mine... out of necessity... is going to have to fall by the wayside...."
"Good! I'm glade to hear that, Ann! Y'know, because... if it's anything that drives me right up the friggin' wall... it's that old double standard of your's, dear!"
"Okay, Ann! Tell you what! Since you're willing to make that concession... though I can't believe that I'm actually agreeing to something as personally humiliating and debasing as this... as long as you aren't expecting me to play Monica Lewinsky to your Bill Clinton... y'know, and go down on it... y'know, at least for now and the foreseeable future... since I have to admit the fact that I did rather enjoy the way that that manly you-know-what of shaft of your's felt when it was up inside of this snug, new little feminine honey pot of mine... y'know, once I managed to get passed all those initial, heavy weight, male revulsions of mine... y'know, that revolved around the ignominious notion that I was serving as the sperm recipient... y'know, rather than the sperm donor... I guess we can give it a try... y'know, just as long as we incorporate that simultaneous orgasms codicil... y'know, that will ensure that we both thoroughly enjoy ourselves...
"However, Ann... be warned! Should you ever try to push your luck... y'know, and try to somehow coerce me into giving you a blow-job... y'know, when your sporting a penis... be advised... you will leave me no recourse but to call into play that persnickety goose and gander clause that we both keep referring to and have you return the favor by performing fellatio on my magically re-configured hand.
Though she wasn't all that thrilled about having to accept Jean's terms, given the fact that she was now extremely curious to know what it felt like to experience oral sex from a man's point of view, since she couldn't envision herself returning the favor by going down on Jean's genital made-over hand, Ann resignedly conceded, "Alright! You've got a deal... oh, femmified hubby of mine! You have my permission to ream me out and I - I assume. - have your permission to do likewise?"
"Yes, dear... That pretty much sums it all up! You have my consent to have your way with me, as long as I have your consent to have my way with you!"
"Oh... and while I thinking about it... oh, femmified husband of mine... when you do that icky, perverted hand-kabob thing-a-ma-jig of your's... since it felt really neat to experience cunnilingus at the very same time I felt that bogus sham of a you-know-what of your's shoved up inside of me... I sure wouldn't be adverse to you incorporating that... that... that icky and disgusting looking, talented tongue equipped, mouth-like-whatever-you-want-to-call-it... y'know, so that I can... I guess you could say...experience the best of both worlds... y'know, in so far as erotic stimulation is concerned!
"Also... given how much I thoroughly enjoyed that dual purpose stimulation job that you so diabolically pulled me, Jean... might I suggest that the next time I get you to fit me out with a set of male genitalia... you also fit me out with a second mouth... y'know, down there... located just above that new and thoroughly manly you-know-what of mine... y'know, so that I can use it to give you a thorough tongue lashing... y'know, at the same time I humping the livin' shit out that new and most beguiling bod of a body of your's.
"As crass and debasing as it sounds... try it... and you'll find that you don't just like it! You'll absolutely love it!"
And love it, Jean did.
Later that night, after the two of them experimented with a whole raft of different permutations, among then, the lesbian version of the fabled and much extolled sixty-nine, on Ann's urging, Jean did as his wife had suggested and found, to his ever lovin' amazement and delight, that Ann was right on the money when it came to excruciating amounts of erotic pleasure he, as the sexy and scintillating little sheling that he had been so ignoble and mystically cold-cocked into, derived out of the dual forms of sexual stimulation.
Clitorally induced orgasms, Jean freely admitted, were absolutely fan-friggin'-tastic, more pleasurable than anything he had ever imagined or, for that matter, thought possible. Vaginally induced orgasms, though to a somewhat lesser degree, were extremely pleasurable. But orgasms stemming form the application of both forms of stimulation were - to put it bluntly - beyond friggin' belief!
Ann readily, if not eagerly, concurred.
* * *
The two of them cavorted into the wee hours of Sunday morning, taking turns driving one another into the delicious rapture of orgasmic delight. Then, about an hour or so before the dawn of a new day, Ann, as she wallowed in the warm-fuzzies of yet another period of blissful, post-orgasmic contemplation, succumbed to her fatigue and feel fast asleep in Jean's comforting embrace.
Using a smidgen of that new, discretionary magical potential that one of Ann's wishes had made him privy to, Jean lovingly ensured that his bogus twin sister of a happily wedded wife and now, lesbian lover, would get at least six solid hours of undisturbed, rejuvenating sleep. Then, having skillfully disentangled his herified self from the mutual inclusive embrace that the two of them had been, but a moment before, so sublimely enfolded within, Jean, employing all the grace and dexterity that that new feminine form of his bestowed upon him, as a her, gently arranged the covers over the sublime form of his sleeping wife and, with a tender kiss to Ann's unfurrowed forehead and a tenderly whispered, 'I love you.', began to allow his lower extremities to begin their gradually and graceful transformation into the madly careening, brilliantly pulsating, rainbow hued, cyclone-like whirligig that served to facilitate his passage to and fro his vaginally housed, metaphysically linked, corporeal repository.
Sunday went a whole lot better that either Ann or Jean had anticipated it would.
After a late morning brunch at one of their favorite local restaurants, the Renyolds, knowing that they had to get Ann's parents' permission to go with the twin sisters solution to their problems before they proceeded on with anything else, prudently made that their first stop. Thinking that they faced an up-hill battle, Ann and Jean were pleasantly surprise at just how well Ann's parents not only handle the news about how Jean had gone from being their son-in-law to a magic wielding daughter-in-law, but also how quickly they warmed to the idea of acquiring another daughter, however bogus that new daughter of their's might be.
Now, while it is true that Jean had to use some of that discretionary magical power of his to thoroughly convince Ann's parents that what they were being told was the honest to God's truth, once they bought into the idea that Jean was who he, as a she, claimed to be, things smoothed out considerably. Fact is: just to demonstrate the fact that Ann's parents were solidly in our beleaguered couple's corner and that they were committed to doing whatever they could to help Jean and Ann manage this rather convoluted, metaphysically induced crises of their's, Jean's in- laws insisted - rather emphatically - on following Jean and Ann over to Jean's parents house.
As expected, Jean's father didn't handle the news of his son's feminization very well at all. Basically, though he would have vehemently denied it, Jean's father somehow took his son's sexual make-over as some sort of personal affront to his own, firmly entrenched manhood. However, by the time Jean's mom, with Ann's mother lending a helping hand, threw together a catch-as- catch-can, late afternoon lunch/dinner sort of thing, and Mr. Renyolds had had several hours to mull the matter over, Jean's dad's attitude did an abrupt about-face and, in a very uncharacteristic emotional outpouring, right in front of the whole kit and caboodle of 'em, informed his well endowed and newly crotched creased son that no matter what had transpired, he would always love Jean and that no matter what the problem was, both Jean and Ann would have his and his wife's complete and unflinching support.
Later that very same evening, having clued everybody in on how he, as a she, planned to eradicate that no longer viable male persona of his, Jean drove his pickup out to a very secluded stretch of rural roadway that was known, in and around the area, to be more than a little bit treacherous, and, employing a carcass of some unfortunate and unrecognizable road-kill to serve as a magically crafted body-double-like stand-in for his former male self, he very skillfully staged his own demise. Double checking to ensure there was no traffic coming in either direction, Jean, from his vantage point on the shoulder of the roadway, fluxed a minute portion of that newly acquired magical where-with-all of his, and forced his pickup up and over the already somewhat mangled guard rail, where upon, it immediately turned turtle and began to wildly careen down the steep embankment towards the creek bed below, spilling a whole shit- load of gasoline as it went. Then, just to eliminate all the hassles involved in the funeral home business, Jean, again via the use of a miniscule amount of his metaphysical potential, ignited the gasoline trail, there by turning that trustworthy old rust bucket of a truck of his into an impromptu crematorium.
Then, just to make sure that things were set in motion, Jean, in a very genie-like fashion, metaphysically poop his herified self down to nearest pay phone and, playing the part of a concerned citizen, he, as a she, placed an anonymous call to the local 911 bureau, who then did their part by alerting the proper authorities.
Two hours later, once the police had made a positive ID of the pickup's badly charred and almost unreadable license plate, they paid a somewhat distraught appearing Ann Renyolds a call and sadly did the duty of informing her of her husband's untimely demise. Ann, aided by those new and magically enhanced acting abilities of her's, responded as one would have expected. That's to say: she broke down. Then, in the midst of a pretty good rendition of a hysterical crying jag, when asked if there was anything that the officers could do for her, Ann, amid a wealth of sobs and crocodile tears, managed to ask them if they could please phone her parents for her and ask them if they would come right over. Likewise, a now extremely distraught and discombobulated appearing Ann Renyolds asked the officers if they would be so kind as to also place a similar call to her late husband's parents.
Jean's parents arrive around five. Ann's, about a half an hour after that.
Then, as the six of them sat around the kitchen table, eating a hardy breakfast that Jean had magically concocted and reviewing all that had to be accomplished that day, Ann, having first gained her femmified hubby's reassurance that he, as a she, could pull off the twin sister bit as promised, made the statement that she would like to incorporate Jean, playing the role of her unmarried twin sister, into the mix as soon as possible. Proving that he was as good as his word, Jean's father came up with a suggestion that would do just that.
And it was a rather good suggestion at that.
Jean's father suggested that they go with the pretext that Ann's twin sister, a Ms. Jean (Ann's maiden name) Taylor, as soon as he as the bogus sheling that he was going to be pretending to be for the rest of his unnatural life, had been informed about his brother-in-law's tragic death, knowing how much Ann would relish the support of her twin-sister, had hurriedly rearranged her schedule for the next several weeks and booked a flight out of Columbus that got him, as a her, into town somewhere around three'ish. Then, once everybody was copacetic with the proposed cover-story, Mr. Renyolds went on to suggest that, unless someone had some objection, he would like to be the one who played out the sham of running over to the airport to pick Jean up; saying that he wouldn't mind some private time alone getting acquainted with this new daughter of his, irregardless of the fact that Jean - technically and legally speaking - now that he, as a the gorgeous little sheling that he had so irreverently become, was playing the role of Ann's twin, wasn't his daughter anymore.
Around seven, or shortly there after, with the exclusion of Jean, everyone, starting with Ann herself, took a turn with the phone, making the obligatory calls which would, in turn, inform the appropriate parties of Gene Renyolds' untimely death. Then, somewhere around ten, the first of the bereaved well-wishers started showing up on Ann's doorstep.
Jean, who had prudently downloaded his herified self into his wife housed, corporeal repository at the first sign of company, had left Ann, his in-laws and his parents with very specific instructions concerning how they should begin to lay the ground work for the afternoon appearance of his new and thoroughly female persona. Cautioning them up-front from the tendency to over do it, Jean left instructions for them to start to make passing mention of the fact that Ann's twin sister was flying in and would, more then likely, be staying with Ann for the next several weeks or so. Ann, though she was leery doing so, started the ball rolling when she casually told her Great Aunt Sara how nice she though it was that her twin sister had dropped everything so that she could be with Ann during her time of need.
The mentioning of Ann having a twin sister didn't seem to phase Great Aunt Sara in the least little bit. Now, while it was true that Ann's great aunt did blink a time or two and experience a very fleeting, short-lived moment of bemused and bewildered befuddlement, no one, other than Ann herself, took any note of it. Fact is, without any coaxing what-so-ever, once Ann had planted the subliminal seed of Jean's existence, Aunt Sara, functioning in the self-assumed role of the Taylor family matriarch, in an effort to recall better times and there by, endeavor to help Ann deal with her grief, took it upon herself to start recounting all those fond and magically augmented memories that she had of the Taylor twins growing up.
All throughout the rest of that Monday and continuing right through the rather grizzly and stressful days that followed, Ann found herself both amazed and astonished each and every time some friend, neighbor, co-worker, colleague, or family member of her and Jean's experienced such a memory augmentation. Within a moment of either hearing about Jean, or entering the same room that he, as the she that he had become, was, at the time, occupying, the augmentation occurred and there was nary a dissenting voice raised to question where this new - albeit bogus - twin sister of Ann's had been hiding for all these many years.
Oddly enough, as aware as Ann was with the enactment of that rather crucial memory augmentation taking place, she was completely oblivious to the other one that Jean, via the discretionary use of those magically powers of his, had so cunningly rigged for automatic implementation. No one, not her friends, not her co-works, not her family, not even Ann herself, had ever once questioned either her youthful, ten years younger- looking appearance or her sublimely enhanced beautification. Everyone excepted the fact that the Taylor twins had always been blessed with a rare and radiant beauty.
Even though Jean's death had been nothing more than a craftily staged sham, Ann, who had played the part of the grieving young widow to the hilt, was relieved when that small, though quit well attended, Wednesday morning memorial service was all said and done. Though she and Jean still faced a few legal hurtles that would - in effect - more or less tie up all the loose ends of that particular chapter of their lives together, for all intent and purposes, once all the well meaning and extremely sympathetic mourners had taken their leave of the twins, and Ann and Jean were once again left to their own devices, they, thankful that the ordeal was over, turned to the task of sketching out their plans for the weeks and months to come.
Two weeks later, Ann casually made the announcement that her twin sister, after a lot of soul searching, had made the decision to quit her rather lucrative job in Columbus and, for the time being, until she got herself firmly established in the area, had excepted Ann's generous offer to move in with her. A week after that, Jean and Ann spent a weekend at Atlantic City, in which they, with a little help from Jean's magical tinkerings, managed to garnish enough extra cash to finance a week long package deal in Las Vegas. And that week stay Nevada's gambling mecca made it possible for the two of them to afford first class passage on a Caribbean bound cruise ship, a cruise they both thoroughly enjoyed.
Then, after the multi-state supported lottery's Big Game's jackpot reached a twenty five thousand plus figure, Jean had Ann purchase what would be, he assured, the one and only wining ticket and - Wallah! - they were financial set for life, a life that Jean's jinnhood would ensure to be a textbook, they-lived- happily-ever-after kind of life.