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.

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.

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?


Here’s your poll for this chunk! Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 4)

“I wish I’d grow older and start gaining.”

Adam froze as the words left his mouth, and Rich just stared at him. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Rich said, as Adam looked around, and saw the genie smiling at him with those glimmering eyes, but before he could do anything he felt that same power overwhelm him–and Rich. 

“I…I don’t think I wanted to say…” Adam muttered, but Rich just shushed him.

“Put that down honey,” Rich said, and took the gym bag off Adam’s shoulder, “I think we both know that isn’t going to be good for your goals, right? Besides, you need your after work six pack first. Gotta keep that beer gut of yours growing.”

Adam wanted to scream at the genie, demand to know what he’d done, but he just allowed Rich to pull him into the living room and sit him down on the couch. As he did, he found himself settling into a comfortable indentation on the old sofa…because it was his spot, wasn’t it? He rubbed his gut, and felt it growing a bit larger, and was there more grey hair on it than there was before? Rich returned with a six pack of cheap beer, and a knife–flipped one can upside down, punctured a hole there, pushed it to Adam’s mouth, and had him shotgun it–and then a second one right after that, and he could feel the beer going right to his gut, and to his head, which was getting a bit…fuzzy.

“There we go daddy, that oughta get you started,” Rich said, and put the other four on the table next to him. “Now let me get you some snacks, I bet you’re hungry.”

He was hungry. Starving, in fact, but he needed to resist this. He felt…weaker all of a sudden, but that wasn’t really a surprise, was it? He hadn’t been going to the gym regularly for years–not since he was in his forties. Ever since he’d moved in with Rich, he’d been going less and less, and packing on the pounds, and he’d…liked it. They’d both liked it. Liked it enough for Adam to stop going entirely, and focus on gaining instead. He let off a belch and rubbed his big gut, feeling it swell larger still, losing a bit of the firmness it had had in his middle age, and start to sag around him instead, thighs growing thicker, arms losing their bulk and turning into fatty hams instead. He had to fight this, he had to, if he didn’t, he…he wouldn’t remember that he wasn’t supposed to look like this.

Rich came back into the room, and Adam said, “Please, I wanna go to the gym Rich.”

“Why would you wanna go to the gym, Daddy? Don’t be silly.”

“Please…I…” it was risky, but he had to try, “I wish you’d let me go to the gym.” 

Or that’s what he tried to say.

“I wish you’d always been going to the gym,” is what the genie allowed out of his mouth instead, and Adam watched as Rich’s physique shifted in a matter of moments, losing most of his fat entirely, as he packed on all of the muscle that Adam had lost in a matter of moments, and then even more than that. He was no cleaner than he’d been before this of course–he was still a slob after all–but instead of smelling of beer and lazy BO, he stank of gym musk. When he leaned in to kiss Adam, and he smelled him…Adam moaned. Fuck, he loved how Rich smelled after the gym so much, reminded him of…of all those years ago now, when he’d been a gym rat, but why the fuck would he want that now, right? He knocked back another beer while Rich sat his muscular ass down next to him on the couch and started kneading Adam’s fat gut as he passed 350 pounds and headed for 400, his age creeping up past 55 and getting closer to 60. Most of his hair was white now, his beard thick and long, crusted with food and drool, his face lined with creases and wrinkles. 

For the rest of the evening, he pounded back beers and snacks at Rich’s urging, and by the time it got to be time for bed, he’d polished off ten beers, and more food than he’d eaten in ages. Rich helped him up off the couch, and the sixty-one year old, 450 pound Adam waddled his way to bed, belching and farting the whole way, where he laid down on the dirty sheets. He tried to reach for his cock, but as horny as he was, he couldn’t get a good grip, and without thinking, he said, “I wish my dick was big enough to fuck you.”

Only what came out instead was: “I wish my gunt was deep enough to fuck.”

“Fuck Daddy, your cockhole is wet tonight,” Rich said, as he reached down and slid two fingers under Adam’s belly. Sure enough, Adam’s little cock had been pumping precum out all evening, not that you could find it at the bottom of his six inch deep gunt. Rich pushed in deep and ran his finger around the head of Adam’s tiny cock, making the old man shudder in excitement.

“Fuck boy, give Daddy’s hole a good fuck, would ya?” he muttered, and Rich was happy to oblige, and the friction of Rich’s cock against his own buried deep in his fat was enough to bring them both to orgasm. Then they fell asleep, Rich’s arms and musk wrapped around Adam’s fat body.

In the morning, however, came clarity.

Rich was already up and making breakfast, and Adam was staring at himself in the filthy bathroom mirror, horrified at what had happened to him. He could…remember, vaguely, that this wasn’t…right. That he hadn’t wanted this. “Genie…Genie!” he muttered, and the genie appeared beside him. Adam glared at him. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

The genie just smiled and shrugged, “I am allowed, as necessary, to modify my master’s wishes slightly so that the world can better accommodate them.”

“You fucking piece of shit! I fucking knew it. I wish I was thin and muscular again!” Adam shouted at him.

Or tried to. What he shouted instead was: “I wish I could never be thin and muscular again!”

“Easily done!” the genie said, “From now on, you’ll never lose another pound of fat, and getting bigger will be easier than ever for you–especially with that new hunger of yours, Daddy…”

Adam nearly doubled over from the pain of it, his gut growling in desperation. “You fuck…that’s not…what I wanted…”

“Alas, what you want is only a starting point for me, Master,” the genie said. “Perhaps you’d like to try again?”

“I wish I’d never met you,” Adam groaned out.

Or rather: “I wish I’d forget I’d ever met you.”

And Adam forgot everything. Everything other than the fact that he was an obese, sixty year old pig desperate for breakfast. Thankfully, his muscular boy had breakfast ready for him by the time he waddled out to the kitchen, and he scarfed it down, dribbling precum from his gunt, his boy teasing him, feeding him, wanting to make sure his old Daddy got as big as possible, as quickly as possible.

The genie watched for a while, but eventually decided to retreat. That had been a fun one, but there were other men who needed his services. He found his way back to the dorms where he had met Adam to begin with, and peeked in a few of the rooms on the floor, where he found a few young men in need of his services. But who became the genie’s master next?


Let’s choose someone new! It seems like you all are enjoying these, so I’ll do a couple more characters before moving onto something different. The patron only bonus poll is over here!

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 3)

Mutabear ended up pointing out the original story this idea is taken from, called “Plus Three” by Derek Williams.


“I wish I was fucking Rich, my slobby neighbor.”

It happened again. That wasn’t the wish he’d meant to make, but it had just fallen right out of his mouth anyway. 

“I think we can arrange that,” the genie said, and again, the genie’s eyes began to pulse with an incredible intensity, as Adam found himself drawn to the door of his apartment. 

“I…I don’t actually want…I mean…I don’t know why I said that, I don’t even know if I have a neighbor named…named Rich…” Adam said, but even as he said it, there were memories falling into place. His next door neighbor was a man named Rich, and he was most definitely a slob. He was massively fat, and the few times Rich had spoken to him the guy was a mess–usually drunk and reeking of beer and cigarettes, wearing nothing more than his filthy underwear, with a thick tangled beard and long ratty hair. Rich had always disgusted him, hadn’t he? But then why was he getting so hard all of a sudden thinking about him?

Confused, flustered, and horny, he went out into the hallway and knocked on Rich’s door. After a few moments, the fat slob opened his door, and before either of them could say anything, he saw a flicked of color cross Rich’s eyes–the same color as the genie’s mist. “Hey fucker–get your sexy ass in here. Was wondering what was taking you so long.”

He grabbed Adam by the front of his undershirt and pulled him into his apartment. The smell of the place was strong, but also somehow…intoxicating. “Sorry, I got off late from work,” Adam said, and he started kissing Rich on the fat neck, making him shudder.

“You fuckin’ work too much man,” Rich moaned, running his hands over Adam’s hard muscle.

“Shut up, get in the fuckin’ bedroom.”

He’d never been this far into Rich’s apartment before, had he? But they why was this all so familiar? The piles of dirty laundry, the sheets stained dark with sweat and cum. Rich tossed him the lube and got up on the bed, while Adam stripped down himself, and lubed up his rock hard cock. No one else got him hard like this, something about the fat pig’s nasty stench, his hair, the grease on his skin just got Adam’s cock going like nothing else, even if he was a bit humiliated to be fucking someone like this. Whatever–why the fuck did it matter? He got up and shoved his cock into Rich’s hole and started fucking him rough, Rich moaning and begging him for more and more, but Adam didn’t last that long–after a few minutes, he came, hauled his cock out, and felt the control the genie had on him wane a bit. 

“Fuck man, I needed that,” Rich said, and rolled over, groping for his own cock, “Give a guy a hand, would ya?”

It turned his stomach a bit, but Adam licked at Rich’s balls while he stroked, and he came too after a couple of minutes, both of them sweaty, and Rich let off a belch. “I gotta get going, man, thanks for the fuck,” Adam said, eager to be past this as quickly as possible now that he wasn’t compelled to be here.

“I got some beer if you want, could watch the wrestling tonight, you like wrestling?”

“I fuckin’ exhausted is all, I’m gonna go eat.”

Rich looked disappointed. “Fuck man, I wish you would hang out with me, and not just fuck me and go, you know?”

It happened faster than either of them could even realize–after all, the genie had never said he was limited to granting just Adam’s wishes. What came out instead was:

“Fuck man, I wish you had moved in with me, and not just fuck me and go, you know?”

The mist swirled up around them, and Adam only had a moment to realize a wish had been granted before things were back to a new normal between them–living in a two bedroom now, together, like they always had…right? 

“I…I need to…” Adam said, certain he’d been planning to go somewhere a moment before, but he couldn’t remember where. “I gotta go to the gym,” he said, finally, but that still didn’t seem quite right.

“Come on, stay home, watch the wrestling with me!” Rich said, “You work out too much, it can’t be healthy.”

“I like working out though.”

“You like work too much! Everything you do is work, you don’t know how to enjoy yourself,” Rich said, as Adam dug his gym bag out from their combined piles of dirty laundry. He didn’t want to have this fight again–they always had this stupid fight. Rich hated work, and could barely hold down a job. That meant Adam had to hold down all the income for them both. His job was good, but it was stressful, and all Rich wanted him to do was work less!

“I wish you’d grow up and start working!” Adam said, thinking that would end it, but he’d forgotten about the genie again, and once more, his wish was twisted around into something else entirely.


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