Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 9)

Another day, another toilet to unclog. These old buildings with their old plumbing, they were always having trouble in one way or another, and the fact that all of the kids living here didn’t bother to respect the place didn’t help either.

Skip pushed his key card against the pad and the door unlocked–he juggled the rest of his equipment for a moment and managed to pull the door open. He was halfway through the door when he saw the young man on the other side, doing nothing to help, and just looking at him with something between contempt and indifference. Skip made it inside, and the young man brushed past him and knocked some of his gear out of Skip’s hand. “Hey! Morty said, but the guy was already on his way out of the door, leaving Skip to gather everything up, grumbling to himself about the ungrateful shits who lived here.

Skip had never had the chance to go to college himself. His parents were poor, and he hadn’t exactly been good in school, and so here he was. He’d been fixing problems on this campus for close to ten years now, and it was the best job he’d managed to find–but fuck, the kids drove him crazy sometimes, in more ways than one. Skip was gay, and he’d always had a soft spot for younger guys, and the school could be great eye candy…but some of them were so damn thoughtless at times, like that fellow he’d just run into literally. With his stuff together again, he started hiking up the stairs to the third floor, where the broken toilet was waiting for him.

That was also where the genie was, invisible in the hallway, deliberating between various options of who to appear before next. He heard the footsteps on the stairs, spun and saw Skip there, hairy and overweight, sweaty from the three flight climb, and he smirked. Now there was someone a bit different–and who could certainly use a bit of his special brand of help. He slipped back into his bottle, and manifested inside Skip’s toolbox as he pushed his way into the bathroom to see what he was dealing with.

It was worse than he’d been expecting. Despite the sign someone had put on it, at least two guys had used the broken toilet since in had stopped flushing, leaving quite a mess in the bowl. Heaving a sigh, he opened up his toolbox, and resting on top, he found a small bottle of clouded glass that he had never seen before. It was stoppered with a cork, and there was a little tag hanging off the end, which read: “For your toilet problem.”

Skip looked back at the toilet, and wondered what on earth this could be. A special kind of drain cleaner? You never used those with a toilet though. He popped off the cork, intending to give whatever was inside a sniff, but before he could, a massive cloud of smoke poured out of it, and manifested into a genie before him, eyes shimmering with blues and purples, smirking at Skip, as he mumbled and shook in surprise. “What…what the fuck?”

“Hello Master, I am a genie, and for the next 24 hours, I will grant as many wishes as you desire to give me.”

Skip just stared at the genie, and then at the toilet. “This…this can’t be real.”

The genie just shrugged. “There is one way to find out easily, isn’t there?”

“I…uh…I wish the toilet was fixed properly.”

The genie didn’t bother changing that wish around–he just snapped his fingers and while Skip watched, the filth in the toilet disappeared entirely. He walked over, triggered the flush, and the toilet worked perfectly. “You…have gotta be kidding me.”

“I could make it so none of the toilets on campus would plug again, if you’d like, Master. However, I know there are usually more interesting things that your kind desires, beyond the mundane.”

“I…I can wish for anything?” Skip asked, “Aren’t there, usually, limits?”

“I can usually accommodate most anything.”

Skip’s mind was reeling…but he wanted to start small still, just…to confirm it worked. “I…There was a guy earlier, downstairs who was rude to me. I wish he was here, and that he’d apologize to me.”

The genie smiled. He was being cautious, of course, but he could tell what Skip really wanted–why not push him in the right direction? Time rewound, and when the wish came out again, there were a few changes.

I wish he was here, and that he’d apologize and suck me off.”

The genie snapped his fingers, and a cloud of blue and purple mist exploded by the door, and the young man appeared there, looking confused. A moment later though, his eyes glazed over, the same hazy colors as the smoke, and he walked over towards where Skip was by the counter. “I…I’m sorry, Sir, for being rude earlier,” the young man said, as he got down on his knees and started unbuttoning the fly on Skip’s work pants. “Let…let me show you just how sorry I am Sir, please…”

Skip could barely believe what was happening in front of him, but his cock was more than ready. The young man started sucking on him, and Skip moaned in pleasure, the genie smiling at him, happy to be of service. “Fuck, I…I don’t care if I am stroking out or something, this is amazing…Go on boy, take my cock all the way, that’s how I’ll know you’re really sorry about what you did…”

The young man–named Jason–did as he was told, and took Skip’s cock to the hilt in his mouth. Inside, the rich, preppy kid was freaking out–one second he’d been walking across the quad, going to meet some friends for dinner, and the next second he’d been teleported into this bathroom, and was sucking off some fat, ugly maintenance worker! Jason kept trying to resist, but he couldn’t disobey the strange compulsion in his head. He had to suck this man off…he didn’t have a choice.

“Fuck, can’t remember the last time I got head like this…it’s fucking nice…Fuck boy, you know what? I wish you were living with me. That way, I could use this mouth whenever I wanted!”

The genie smiled, and made a few alterations to that wish for a little added fun.


Here’s your next poll! The patron only poll is over here as well.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 8)

“I wish my bros were into big, slutty himbos like me! We’d be…we’d, uh…what was I sayin’ again?” Tim said, the genie already sapping what remained of Tim’s intellect to start fulfilling his modified wish. The genie didn’t feel the need to modify much of the big man’s physique with this one, but as Tim grew dumber still, new desires started to cloud his mind–mostly focusing on how eager he was to get a good fuck. He hadn’t gotten fucked in ages! The biggest, manliest slut on campus, and he honestly couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a cock inside him. He took another drag off his cigar, imagining it was a cock, and moaned. Leaning forward, he shoved one hand down the back of his tight spandex shorts, and probed his hole with one meaty finger, his cock leaking in the front of them as well.

“I believe, Master, that you were going to tell me more about these, ‘bros’, you live with.”

“Fuck genie, they’re all fuckin’ studs, eager for my hole, you wouldn’t fuckin’ believe how lucky I am. I mean, I wish more of them were cigar smokers–it grosses a couple of them out.”

The genie rewound that bit, and Timothy spoke his wish again.

“I wish all of them were dominant, sadistic, cigar smokers–it grosses a couple of them out.”

Tim, not really smart enough to realize what his idle wish had done, leaned back, smoked, and fingered himself for another minute or two, until someone pounded on the door. “Hey slut! Are you in there?”

Tim recognized the voice–it was Greg, one of the members of the frat. He hurried over, opened his door, and there his bro stood–muscled, shirtless, smoking a cigar just as large as Tim’s was, groping the front of his mesh shorts. 

“What the fuck did we tell you about locking your door, fag?”

“S-Sorry, I–” Tim’s excuse evaporated into a groan, as Greg latched onto his nipples and gave them a hard twist. 

“I don’t need your dumb excuses–get on the bed.”

Tim hopped up on the bed, shorts down, ass up, and Greg grabbed some lube off Tim’s bedside table and slathered some on his cock. “Yeah, that’s right slut–we have an open door policy around here–you know that. That means that whenever any of us want this hole of yours, we should be able to just walk right in here and grab it–think you can remember that?”

“Fuck bro, I’m sorry man, but fuck, get…get that cock in me man, I fuckin’ need it so bad!” Tim said.

Greg laughed. “Can’t believe a bottom like you got the biggest cock on campus. What a fuckin’ waste.”

“Fuck bro, I wish your cock was big like mine…”

The genie’s eyes glowed, and time skipped a beat.

“Fuck bro, I wish your cock was big instead of mine…”

Greg slid his cock in, and Tim gasped a bit in surprise. Greg was on the smaller side of the cocks in the house, and usually Time could take him without any trouble, but today…maybe he was just a bit tighter? Greg drove his cock in deeper and deeper with each thrust, with Tim’s slutty hole finding itself stretched to the max, as his cock dwindled down, becoming even smaller than Greg’s had been before–just a couple inches long. “Yeah, you like that slut? Like having my monster cock planted deep in your fucking guts?” Greg said as he pushed his now eleven inches completely into Tim’s ass, listening to the slut moan with something between pain and desperate need.

“Fuck bro, just…just fuck me man, fuck my slutty hole…”

Greg held out for a couple more minutes, but he eventually came deep, planted to the root, Tim shuddering as he felt his bro’s massive cock throbbing and filling him up with a load of cum. Greg finished, and pulled out. “Remember fucker, no locks for you, or we’ll just take the door off.”

It took Tim a few minutes to recover from that fuck, quivering and shaking on the bed. He finally reached down to stroke himself, and was horrified to find that he was working with much, much less suddenly–and he realized then, what he’d said in the heat of sex.

“Wait! I…I didn’t want to lose my cock too,” he said to the genie, “I wish my cock was big again!”

Or rather, once the genie was through with it…

“I wish my cock was permanently locked up!”

The genie snapped his fingers, there was a sharp pain, and Greg found himself looking down at his tiny cock in a very small chastity cage–riveted shut. “No! What the fuckin’ hell! That…that’s not what I wanted!” He tugged at the cage, but it refused to budge. “You…you fucked with my wish, didn’t you! How did you do that?”

The genie just smirked, and Tim heard the frat house door open, and the sound of loud voices in the common room downstairs. Football practice was over–and that meant most of the house was home.

“Where’s that fuckin’ slut!” one of them shouted, “Get your ass down here, now!”

Tim shook his head, but the genie’s eyes sparkled. He found himself unable to resist going downstairs, where the filthy football players all took turns with both ends for the rest of the evening, Tim losing himself in a haze of fucking, musk, smoke and humiliation that he couldn’t get enough of, even as he knew it was all wrong. He woke up the next morning in his bed, hole wrecked as usual, a dried mess of cum under his locked crotch–some his own, but most of it from his loose hole, and he rolled upright, and found the genie looking at him, still smirking.

“Have a good night, slut? It sure looked like you were enjoying yourself,” the genie said.

“Please…please, I…I wish I didn’t have to be the frat’s sex slave anymore.”

The genie just shook his head, and this time Tim felt it, the words forcing their way back into his mouth, changing in his mind, becoming something else when he spit them back out.

“I wish I have to be the frat’s sex slave forever now!”

He clapped his hands over his mouth, but it was too late–the frat president and a few other bros came into his room, and told him that the frat had come to a decision. Tim wasn’t going to be a student anymore–he was going to be moving rooms too. They dragged him down into the basement, where they forced him into a cage next to the house washer and dryer, gagged him, and went back to bed. Tim begged through the gag to the genie, begging him not to leave him like this, but he just laughed.

“I’m sorry master, I can’t hear you through that silly gag–I’m just going to have to assume my services are no longer required here–enjoy yourself.”

With that, the genie disappeared, leaving Tim to his new lifetime role as the fraternity’s cumdump.

***

The genie found his way back to the same dorm as before, now two students lighter. He looked around again at his options, and made a decision of who to visit next. There was still Eli, the jock who had been Adam’s roommate, until he got whisked away into his new life. There was the clean freak freshman who had been complaining to Timothy about his slobby roommate earlier. There was a young, thin fellow currently jacking off in his room, thinking about…one of his older, bearish professors. Finally, coming up the stairs, was an older maintenance man, coming to fix some wiring. He was a bit of a perv himself–and liked his job mostly because he could see all the hot college boys that he wanted. There was plenty to work with, but what does the genie choose?


Here’s the poll! I think this will be the last character in this interactive–once the new year hits, I’ll do another round of New You Resolutions! The bonus poll for patrons is over here as well.

Archive: Matchmaker

Originally published July, 2012

Figured I might as well get back into cleaning up and reposting some old stories of mine! This was an old one with quite a few pics to go with it. This is the original version without much doctoring. For those interested, I added a few notes on to the end.

Synopsis: A young construction worker finds himself the heir to an unlikely legacy, and uses his new powers to help the men in his family find some unlikely romantic matches.

Click below to read more!

Continue reading “Archive: Matchmaker”

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 7)

“Fuck it, I wish I was the big man on campus,” Timothy said. Is that what he’d wanted to say? He couldn’t quite recall, exactly, what he’d meant to come out of his mouth, but that seemed…right, mostly.

“Ah yes, that can certainly be arranged, Master,” the genie said, snapped his fingers, and Timothy felt something happening to his body. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it also didn’t feel comfortable. It was his feet, at first–they were growing in his shoes, and it was getting uncomfortable in there, and then it really did start to hurt. He tried to undo the laces in time, but in a few moments, his feet ripped out through the sneakers entirely, and Timothy found himself face to face with his new size twenty feet, the tops covered in hair, and he just, gaped at them.

The sensation was rising higher, his legs beginning to throb and expand. Again, Timothy tried his very best to get out of his clothes, but he was growing too fast. He tore his way out of his jeans, his thighs now not only thicker, but longer as well, as he grew taller, in addition to larger in general. 

“Hold…hold on, could you slow this down or something?” Timothy said, trying to get out of his shirt, but it was too tight already to come off, and in frustration, he tore in down the front as his chest expanded into two meaty pecs, the genie just holding his usual cocky smile. “I said I wanted to be the big man on campus, but I didn’t really mean it literally!” 

“Oh I know Master, don’t worry, the physical changes are only part of the wish,” the genie said, and that didn’t exactly fill Timothy with confidence either. Thankfully, the changes were beginning to slow down somewhat, Timothy tearing off the rags of the clothes he’d been wearing moments before as he looked down at his new body. He was massive, easily six and a half feet tall, weighing in at over 300 pounds. Much of it was muscle, but he was…thick in other areas too, especially his gut, which was filling in last, along with plenty of body hair all over his chest, arms, and crotch. He looked over his gut and his eyes went wide–he was certainly the big man where it counted now! He gave his new, eleven inch cock a few strokes, and it hardened almost immediately, filling out to almost a foot long, thicker than a beer can–whoever he was with was going to have a hard time taking this monster, that was for sure.

“Look, this…this is too much, I don’t want to be a freak!” He turned to look at the genie, only to be captivated by the genie’s shimmering eyes, as the rest of the wish took hold of him. After all, a body like this would be wasted on a RA position–this was the body of a jock! Timothy’s mind began to drain, his studious nature replaced with a more athletic focus, his diligence replaced with a smug masculinity as well. The genie snapped his fingers again, and they weren’t standing in Timothy’s RA dorm room anymore–they were standing in Tim’s room at the nearby fraternity instead. Tim blinked a couple of times, looked around his room and grinned. “Fuck genie, this is fuckin’ crazy man! I’m a fuckin’ jock!”

He turned towards the mirror and gave a flex, admiring his new look, and already in love with it. “Fuckin’ amazing…” he said, picked up his still burning cigar, and took a long drag off of it, still working his cock. “Man, I wish my bros were big men like me! We’d be fuckin’ unstoppable on the field, man.”

The genie was already hard at work, warping Tim’s idle wish that he hadn’t really thought too hard about making. Still, the genie thought that Tim was in good shape, but he needed to start having some fun, or the genie was going to get a bit bored.


Sorry for the delay on this next chunk! Here’s your poll for the next wish. Patrons can find their bonus poll over here.

Patreon Teaser: Gobble, Gobble

Posted a Thanksgiving themed story for Patrons today, based on a couple of suggestions! Here’s the first couple of parts as a bit of a teaser.


Grant turned into the driveway of his brother’s house, and heaved a short sigh, trying to keep the tension in his chest from growing even tighter. It was Thanksgiving, and that meant a three hour drive out of the city, back to his hometown where his brother and father still lived after all of these years. It wasn’t that Grant didn’t like seeing his family, really. He liked seeing his brother, Marshall, and his brother’s wife, Martha–she was always a good time. His two nephews,Marshall Jr. (everyone called him Junior, mostly) and Will loved him. He was the cool uncle after all, from the big city. They loved hearing about what was going on in his life there, though Grant had to edit out the…gayer parts for the sake of the rest of the family, even though both of them were in their twenties at this point. It was his dad, Hugh, that made Grant really nervous. While they had long since made a sort of peace around Grant’s sexuality, it was, well, difficult all the same, do deal with his dad’s judgemental attitude. Things were usually alright, but he could never be sure. At least his mom usually helped keep things civil–she had always loved Grant, and he was somewhat certain that the only reason his dad was at all soft with him was because of her.

He pulled into the driveway and got out of his car, and was surprised to find a truck parked there that he didn’t recognize. The nephew’s beaters were parked off around the garage, so it wasn’t theirs. His Marshall and Martha usually parked in the garage. His dad’s car was there too–so who was the extra guest? He went inside, and found his answer pretty quickly, when Jimmy introduced himself.

He was a new neighbor of the family, lived alone, had moved in a couple months before. He worked around town as a handyman, and it was hard not to like him, in all honesty. He had a firm handshake, a nice laugh, and was quite handsome–a bit older and more hairy than Grant’s type, but he could appreciate him all the same.

He got swept up in the conversation, and with his nephew’s pestering him to see his new car, that it took him half an hour to notice the rather glaring omissions. Martha wasn’t there, and neither was his mom. It was just the boys of the family, plus Jimmy. Grant asked his brother about it, and he just deflected with a strange non-answer, and no one else would say much about it either, not even his dad. It was all…rather strange.

It wasn’t too long after that realization, after the boys had gone back inside, and Grant had decided to slip off for a cigarette before dinner. His dad hated smoking, after losing his dad and brother to lung cancer, that Grant had always been very careful to never smoke around him. He was surprised when Jimmy made a sudden appearance beside him, with his own cigarette in hand.

“So how was the drive over?” Jimmy asked, making small talk. 

Grant told him a bit about the trip, and found the conversation moving around to family, and holidays.

“You live alone?” Grant asked.

“Yeah, just me! Moved here from the city this year, and I gotta say, I love it out here. Everything moves a bit slower, you know?”

Grant nodded. He’d always thought boring was a better word than slow.

“How about you? No one with you, I see. Guess that makes us the pair of bachelors, don’t it?”

Jimmy gave him a little nudge, and Grant wasn’t sure if that was code or not. “I guess so,” he hedged, not sure how much Jimmy knew about him. If he was from the city, he doubted that Jimmy would care he was gay, but…well, best to be on the safe side.

“You visit often?”

“Not really. My work keeps me busy.”

“Too bad. You have a really great family here, you know? You should be thankful.”

“Yeah, I know,” Grant said, thinking about all the arguments he’d had with his dad. Not as rough as it could have been, he supposed, but it was raw.

“Well, you know what they say,” Jimmy added, taking a last drag off his cigarette, “gobble, gobble, buddy.”

Grant just looked at him, confused, but Jimmy didn’t say anything else, and headed into the house. He took a long drag off his cigar, trying to figure out what in the world that could possibly mean, and then shrugged.

Jimmy took one last look at Grant as those magic words of his took hold, Grant’s slender physique rounding out slightly as he stood around the side of his house, the thick cigar clamped in his jaw, the short beard sprouting across his face. Grant reached around shoved his hand down the back of his jeans and scratched his ass without a second thought, and Jimmy smirked. This would be a great family soon enough–one that Jimmy would be more than happy to be a part of too.


Grant snuffed out his cigar after a few more minutes, and went inside. His dad was sitting in the living room watching TV from the couch–that was usually where he stayed for the whole holiday. He avoided him for the moment. He didn’t want his dad to smell the smoke on him and have a total shitfit about him smoking, like he did a couple years before. Instead, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, saw his brother, both his nephews, and Jimmy out in the backyard, discussing a game of football. Figuring that was better than nothing, he went outside onto the porch, and decided to watch.

In the end, Jimmy ended up with Junior on one team, with Marshall and Will on the other. Jimmy started with the ball, and wanted to be the quarterback, with Junior receiving. They designated the end zones, and then started the game–with Jimmy calling out, “Gobble, gobble, hike!”

The change hit all of them in earshot, not that any of them noticed much of anything. Grant, from the sidelines, was the only one to be struck with a little sense of confusion, as he watched the men of his family all change slightly. Junior seemed to grow a bit thicker, his frame growing more muscular as he ran off to receive the ball. Will chased after him, but had a hard time keeping up as his gut swelled a bit. Marshall grew a bit too, with more muscle and fat on his body, but also quite a bit of hair appearing down his forearms as he counted down the seconds out loud, until he could try and sack Jimmy.

The game continued, and each time Jimmy had the ball to throw it, he would call out “gobble, gobble,” again, and all of the men would shift a bit more. Marshall was soon sporting a buzzcut with a thick horseshoe mustache. Will was growing taller and even more muscular, his head shaved down, with a thick beard on his face. Will was shorter and rounder now, a thick goatee around his mouth and quite a bit of hair on his chest, under his dirty, grass stained overalls that he always wore. On the sidelines, Grant just watched, packing on more and more weight with each gobble, another cigar appearing in his hand that he started smoking without even really thinking about it, his own beard growing longer, one hand working it’s way down the front of his grungy jeans to massage his cock, spurting a bit of precum whenever there was a nice tackle out in the yard.

Grant lost it, however, when Marshall got a good sack in on Jimmy, pinning him down on the ground, thrusting against him, his well worn leather chaps and boots shoved against Jimmy’s ass…and Grant hurriedly forced himself upright, and went inside, passing his father, and went into the bathroom, where he sat down on the toilet, and jacked off, replaying that in his mind, removing Jimmy and Marshall’s clothes, thinking about his brother’s tattooed body pinning him down, working his big cock into his ass, growing, spitting, biting…

He lost his load all over his hand, the floor, and his jeans. After panting for a couple of minutes to catch his breath, he stood back up, hauled his jeans back up by the suspenders, without even really caring about the wet patch he’d managed to shoot all over the inside of them. He didn’t understand what had come over him, really. He’d always thought his brother was hot, of course, especially in his biker leathers that he was always wearing, but seeing him pin Jimmy down…fuck, that was a real nice show.

He got up off the toilet, and spent a couple of minutes looking at himself in the mirror, trying to piece together what seemed so…off about his reflection all of a sudden. Was it his hair? He’d been balding for years now, and had never done much to cover it up. It was long, with quite a bit of grey, a little stringy and greasy, but then he never had much time to wash it. His greying beard was much the same–down to his chest at this point, but he liked the look of it too much to consider cutting it. He’d been growing it for years now, hadn’t he? Was it his clothes? No, those were the same he always wore too. A t-shirt from some truck stop somewhere. It was old, but then most of his clothes were. He lifted up an arm and saw a hole in the armpit, his pit hair sticking out, and he gave it a scratch, then sniffed his fingers, the scent making his cock jump slightly. He had on a pair of ragged looking jeans, held up by some suspenders that had long since lost some of their elasticity, but they still kept his pants up well enough. Everything was…right, but then why did it feel like he was looking at a stranger in the mirror all of a sudden?

He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it was a bit thick somehow. It probably wasn’t worth worrying about, in any case, but for some reason, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and his heart was pounding. The only thing he could think to do, was to go out, get a beer, chug it, and get another one. Best to just focus on enjoying the holiday, and time with the family. Everything would sort itself out in the end.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 6)

Sorry for the long delay! This week (hell, this whole month) has been a shit show for me, and I haven’t had much time to get any writing done in the meantime. If you want more details, I posted a bit about it over on my Patreon.


What Timothy tried to say, was, “All I wish for is some time to relax.”

What came out of his mouth instead, though, was, “All I wish for is some big cigars to smoke.”

Sure, the grammar wasn’t perfect, but the genie was plenty happy with the notion to get things rolling. Timothy was much too buttoned up for his liking, and a nice smoke had a way of helping even the most stuck-in-the-mud fellows loosen up a little bit. Timothy, on the other hand, was looking a bit confused, running the words back in his mind, trying to connect the dots on why in the world he had just said that. Before he could think too hard though, the genie snapped his fingers, and several cigars appeared on Timothy’s desk in front of him.

“No, wait…I didn’t really mean that, I don’t want those,” Timothy said, you can…”I wish those cigars weren’t there anymore.”

He tried at least. “I wish those cigars were irresistible,” Timothy said, and before he could do anything about it, he picked one up, smelled it, and gave a little excited sigh. Something…about a cigar just always made him so happy, he just couldn’t seem to resist them, no matter how hard he tried. 

He stood up from the desk with a cigar in hand, and the genie looked at him funny. “Where are you going Master?”

“Oh, I can’t smoke these in here, especially not as an RA!”

“Of course you can, Master, all it takes is a little wish,” the genie said with a wink, and Timothy smiled at him.

“I wish I could smoke these cigars in my room without getting in trouble,” he meant to say, looking a bit smug–but the genie slipped in a few extra words without him noticing:

“I wish I could smoke these cigars and jack off in my room without getting in trouble,” he said, sat back down in his chair, opened up the fly of his pants, grabbed the cigar cutter and lighter that had appeared on his desk without him noticing. He prepped the cigar while the genie just watched, and smiled. He lit it, taking his time like he had done it hundreds of times before, with just a little knowledge planted in his mind by the genie, lit up, and then sat back with a sigh. He reached into his underwear and hauled out his cock, stroking it slowly and smoking like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Curious, you do seem to be enjoying that quite a bit, Master,” the genie said, and drifted a bit closer, “Alas, I never quite understood the appeal of them myself. You certainly seem to be enjoying those cigars quite a lot, however,” he added, indicating Timothy’s hard cock.

“Yeah, I…I don’t really know why,” Timothy said, “Smoking a cigar has just…just always gotten me hard I suppose…”

“That’s very interesting,” the genie said, drifting a bit closer. He could sense that Timothy was a bit…nervous, jacking off in front of him, but with a little magic, he helped set Timothy’s mind at ease, and he sped up a bit, moaning, a thick plume of smoke escaping his mouth as he did. “It is a rather…masculine activity, don’t you think?”

“Fuck, yeah, I guess that’s part of it,” Timothy said.

“Something associated with masculinity, yes,” the genie said, “I can see why you would want to feel that way, Master.” 

“What do you mean?” Timothy said, and the genie just smiled.

“Well, you are certainly a man, don’t get me wrong, but you are also, well…I don’t wish to insult you Master, is all, but you aren’t…”

“Are you saying I smoke cigars because I’m not a real man?”

“Of course not Sir.”

The thought had been planted though, and when Timothy looked in the mirror, he had to admit it was a bit comical. He wasn’t the sort of guy who he imagined smoked cigars after all, especially not ones this size. It was too big for his face, almost…or it would look fine, if the rest of him was bigger. He wasn’t…scrawny exactly, but certianly thin. Lean, was the kind term, but for the first time in his life, he found himself questioning whether he…liked his body, really. What if he was more muscular? What if he was hairier? What if he was just…bigger, somehow? A big man, someone who he imagined would be smoking cigars like this?

The genie could feel the thought forming, and knew he didn’t have to do anything more. Timothy kept stroking, kept thinking, kept imaging, getting closer and closer to cumming as he smoked, and finally, he said, “Fuck it, I wish I was a big man.”

The genie grinned–such a vague wish! So many directions he could take that one, with a few twists.


Here’s your poll for the next chunk of Timothy’s story! You can find the bonus poll for Patrons over here as well.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 5)

The genie opened a portal, taking one last look at Adam and Rich in their new lives, Adam’s face and beard covered in food, caught in rapturous delight as Rich encouraged him on, one hand working his way under Adam’s massive gut to find his cockhole to play with, and then he was gone, back into the hallway of the dorm where he had first materialized. Time had shifted back as well–it was the night before again, and the genie made quick work of erasing Adam from this old reality, all of his things disappearing from the room, leaving it as a single with just Eli living there for the moment.

The jock arrived back not too long after that and made himself at home, and while the genie was tempted to do introduce himself to the handsome jock…something else caught his attention instead. 

“Look, he’s driving me insane! He won’t keep his side of the room clean, and he tells me I’m being crazy, just expecting him to clean up after himself.”

“I get it, I really do, but I can’t do anything about this, you understand? He’s not violating any rules, and you’re going to have to learn to get along with him somehow.”

“You’re the RA! You’re supposed to manage this shit!”

The genie slipped out into the hall, and saw two students, one a bit younger than the other, arguing. The young one was apparently complaining about his roommate situation to the older one, who just looked exhausted. 

“My main interest is keeping the fucking peace, and the university doesn’t fucking care, unless he’s smoking pot or something like that. You’re gonna have to figure it out. Maybe after Winter break, we can see about getting you a different roommate, but until then, you gotta stop complaining to me every fucking day about every little thing he does.”

“Well my parents–”

“I know, you’re legacy or whatever, but they aren’t that fucking rich or you wouldn’t be living in this fucking dorm, I know that for sure.”

The freshman’s face got even redder, and he stormed off towards his room. The genie thought about following along, but instead, he floated along behind the RA, as he breathed a heavy sigh and slumped off towards his own room at the end of the hall–but before he got there, the genie materialized inside his bottle, and left himself sitting on the desk in the RA’s room.

It only took the RA, whose name was Timothy, a couple of minutes to find the bottle out of place, and decide to open it–allowing the genie to make his usual grand entrance, and introduce himself to his new “Master”. Timothy just stared at him, and the genie enjoyed the reaction. Most people reacted with a sense of wonder and excitement at meeting someone who could make their dreams come true. Timothy, on the other hand, just looked at the mystical genie floating in his room like he was yet another problem on a long list of problems he didn’t particularly want to deal with right now. Then, Timothy started to laugh.

He was laughing because all of it was absurd. This whole semester so far had been nightmarish–classes were hard, and that sucked up so much of his time, and then there was all of the shit he had to deal with as an RA too, on top of that. This floor had so much drama going on, that even his room couldn’t be a safe place for him. He was exhausted, and all he’d wanted to do for weeks was cry, but he hadn’t.

“Alright, here’s something simple for you, Mr. Genie,” Timothy said, wiping a tear from his eye as he finished laughing at the joke in front of him, “Right now, all I wish for is some time to relax. Think you can handle that?”

The genie chuckled, as he froze time, and rewound Timothy’s words, altering them slowly. He’d give Timothy so much more than a little relaxation–but what was it that the genie had Timothy wish for instead?


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