Genies aren’t naturally mischievous as movies might have you believe. They have a lot more leeway over the execution of the wishes that they grant than most people think. And, contrary to popular belief, they’re not at all bound to the will of their masters.

There are some genies who are benevolent and generous, interpreting their masters’ wishes in the best possible light. Don’t piss them off, because they’re also the ones with the most vicious vindictive streaks. They have good hearts, and do not tolerate men with bad ones, especially those looking to use the power of the djinn for evil means.

That’s not to say that there aren’t any genies who would be more than happy to cater to those types of masters. But the point stands. Genies are no different from humans. They have a plethora of personalities and moral codes.

But one thing that you’ll find unites all genies is the fact that they are all bored out of their fucking minds. You try staying in a bottle or a lamp or a bookcase for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. I’d be surprised if you weren’t trying to claw your way out by day 7.

That’s where the genie penchant for mischief comes from. They just don’t get to have enough fun on their own. So, many of them take out their frustrations on their unwitting masters. Especially the dumb ones. They love the ones that think they’re so smart, in particular.

Clive was one of those types of masters. He had always been a bit of a jackass, always trying to prove, one way or another, that he was better than anyone else. When his grandfather died and left him with a run-down shack and not a penny, you could imagine the hit that his ego took.

You should have heard him rant and rave about the unfairness of it all. How he deserved more by virtue of working harder than anyone, by virtue of being smarter than anyone. But when he accidentally kicked up the hidden floor panel and discovered the jewel-encrusted oil lamp inside, you could have heard a pin drop.

Clive understood what the object was the instant that he laid his eyes on it, and scarcely had he picked it up in two hands than he rubbed the side to call forth the entity that resided within.

I was the only person there with him. I was really the only person who could tolerate him for more than a few minutes at a time. But of course, I counted as an audience for Clive, and he wanted more than anything to demonstrate to the genie that he could get exactly what he wanted.

Clive may have overestimated his ability to mince words. I warned him what would happen if he just willy-nilly spoke a wish. As expected, he didn’t listen.

But let me tell you, Clive definitely turned out fucking hot. He’d always been a bit of a wimp, but he’d wished for the body that he had always wanted, specifying every little physical detail to ensure that nothing was missed. Except he did miss something.

Clive didn’t realize at first. He looked back at me with an arrogant smirk on his face as if to say "see, I told you I could get exactly what I want. I’m just that smart." I just pursed my lips, waiting for the inevitable. After all, I’d been watching the genie’s nonplussed expression and expected that something would go wrong with the wish sooner or later.

Not that I would have minded Clive getting knocked down a peg or two at the time. Even I had gotten sick of his attitude. And as Clive launched into this diatribe of now being the superior man, with both brains and brawn unparalleled, I figured I had enough. Apparently, so had the genie.

The genie looked at me and smirked. He waved his hand at me and I felt a tingle as a ripple through the fabric of reality washed over me. Briefly, I panicked. I had nothing to do with the wish, so why was I being affected?

But the genie winked at me, and I immediately knew what he had done. He had performed free magic. Without a price. He would later tell me that it was an apology for having to bear with the idiot for as long as I have.

Moments later, Clive fell forward onto his hands and knees, his clothes unravelling from his body and dissolving to dust. His cock hardened between his legs, throbbing and leaking pre-cum all over the roughshod floor of the house.

Clive’s fingers curled into fists, his knuckles resting on the floor. He looked at me, eyes glazing over and becoming unfocused. "What’s… What’s happening to me?" he slurred out.

The genie grinned, both at me and Clive. I was right, of course. Clive had missed something. "You never specified that your ideal body would come with your ideal mind," said the genie, simply. "So have fun being dumb, jackass."

Clive moaned, and I could practically hear the gears in his head grinding to a stop. Won’t be any pesky thinking or boasting about being mentally superior from him anymore.

I found myself compelled to walk up to Clive. My own clothes dissolved off my body. As I approached, he lowered his head and presented his ass to me. My cock rose to full hardness as I felt a new desire, a new urge to dominate assert itself within me.

My thin frame grew, swelling with just enough muscles to push me out of "twink" territory into "jock." But not enough to bring me even close to the big dumb beast that was eagerly spreading his legs for me. I would never forget the look on Clive’s face, the dopey, dumb grin that spread across his lips when I started rubbing my cock up and down his crack. It was priceless.

Needless to say, I had my way with him. And as thanks to the genie for the gift, I let him have a go at Clive. Quite a few times, actually. As it turns out, being cooped up in a magical lantern for centuries does wonders for your sex drive.