My latest Master is such a strong, masculine specimen. He's pounding his new mindfucked girlfriend into the corner of his bedroom, driving her head between two pillows while she writhes in ecstasy. Even as he does this—her long legs wrapped around his waist so she can use all available leverage to pump back into him, her young fresh hot pussy deliciously wet and needy—he's finger-fucking her blindingly hot step-sister into oblivion. The two step-sisters kiss madly, passionately, loving each other almost as much as they love him, though of course he comes first.

He's the Master. He always comes first.

But he certainly doesn't cum first. He's been making them cum from the second they saw his Cock, when he disrobed and let them suckle and moan and kiss and adore him for an hour of hot, long foreplay.

Now, though, he's ready to finish. Ready to erupt. Ready to claim ownership of their pussies once and for all. He's got everything he could ever want—massive power, incredible wealth, an amazing body, and gorgeous women dripping wet at the sound of his voice.

And it's all thanks to me! I'm his own personal genie...and all I want in the world is to make him Hard and Happy forever.
He makes the wishes, but I made this happen.

* * * * *

“You, then. I want to fuck you.”

After centuries of practice, it’s no struggle to keep my eyes un-rolled. Instead, I smile brightly. I've just showed up in his living room, carefully avoiding the bong and the beer cans as I supplicate myself before him as is required. There's no sense in making him feel bad about how basic this wish is.

“Sorry, sweetie. That’s not the rules.”

How disappointed he is actually makes me like him more.

“But…fuck, though. You’re so hot.”

“I know.”

I really fucking am. I'm the hottest girl I've ever seen, and I've been around for a long, long time. People try to tell you that aesthetics have changed, that what men want or what turns people on is a cultural thing. But I've got huge tits, great hair, perfect skin, long legs, and an angelic face, and I always seem to give men the biggest hard-ons—and I've been alive for thousands of years. Who are you gonna believe?

“Your tits are like…wow.”

He could be a poet.

My name is Zanthia. A very, very long time ago—so long ago even I don’t remember it, and I remember most things—I was a mortal girl who angered the wrong demon spirit and was turned into a genie to amuse him. As far as I know, that demon spirit is still out there somewhere, laughing away at me.

I can’t remember if I was beautiful then or not, but I definitely am now as I said. If women could summon me—and they can't—they'd all wish for my face. Even models would kill for it. I can already see this newest Master—his name is Xavier—falling deeply in love with me. I'm used to it. Every Master I have does.

All for nothing, really. I can’t be fucked. Can’t even touch cock. It’s one of the rules.

It makes me sad, sometimes, but at least I can still cum to my heart’s content whenever I want.

If this new Master and I were in a cafe or a restaurant, with the way I look, any passers-by would think this guy had hired himself the top prostitute in the city. But we’re in his apartment. His dingy, sub-expectations, frankly insulting kind of apartment. It's one of I think twelve in the same building, vertically built in the middle of the city.

Outside, I can tell there are other similar apartment buildings nearby. There's a pool and an overworked laundry center that they all share. Parking is usually terrible, even with assigned spots, and his car is going to break down in about five hundred miles.

I can tell these things from a gentle, quick, low-level scan of the area. The longer I'm in a place, the more I know about it. The more I know about it, the more I can change.

And, ho boy, there's a lot to change about this place and this Master.

I’m a good genie. I would dare to say I’m one of the best. Sure, I’ve been imprisoned for millenia to do this job, but, dammit, I do my job how it’s supposed to be done!

Genies like me belong in the palms of kings taking over countries, establishing empires. People with plans.

Instead I’m stuck with—and no offense, because he seems like a genuine sweetie—some slob whose diet consist mostly (judging from the bbq-stained boxes stacked in the corner) of sauce-sprayed pizza enhanced with a healthy amount of marijuana and beer. His gut is only just developing—he's young—but it's definitely there.

At this point, we've already been through the whole rigmarole: Holy crap, is this real? You're a for real genie? Where did you come from? This crazy lamp my uncle got me? But why now? Oh, because I rubbed it?

I don't know why so many people have eclectic uncles who never wind up using the lamp itself, but it sure is a theme with me.

“So these rules,” says my new Master. “How fixed are they?”

“Think rules like gravity,” I say. “Or, I don’t know, drug laws. Extremely.”

He stands in front of his bong, moving it to one side, like he should hide it. That kind of stoner. You know they type. He’s cute, in a sort of young mannish way. He’s got more hair than he knows what to do with and an overactive libido that isn’t helped by being around an absolute epitome of feminine perfection like me.

“God. You’re so hot, though. And you said you belong to me. You called me ‘Master.’ That’s like, a big fantasy of mine. Can I just…”

He reaches out to touch me, probably stroke my hair. I don’t blame him. In fact, after millennia of no contact, I would welcome the touch. But inches before he can get there, the barrier activates and pushes him away.

“Oh,” he says, disappointed. “I was hoping to touch you.”

“Also against the rules. Nothing I can do about it, Master. I'm so sorry.”

I really am. I see his bulge straining against his pants. It looks so fucking yummy. Lots of guys spend their first wish on a bigger Cock.

I’ll try to talk him out of it if he does. First, it’s so rare that a guy actually needs a bigger Cock. Like, if a girl has already agreed to go to bed with you, what you’re packing between your legs isn’t going to change her mind.

Especially if you go down on her first! You could practically have a string of lima beans going on there if you really know how to lick a clit proper.

Trust me; I’ve watched thousands of years of sex from all over the world. All you need to win a lady's heart is a willing tongue.

But I’d dissuade him too because, gosh. It looks huge already. My mouth is watering, tits heaving as I look him over. I bit one lip, feeling a bit guilty. I know how sexy it makes me look when I'm kneeling like this. It's only going to make him want to fuck me more.

One of the demon’s curses on me was to make me want sex as much as possible; and I do. I so fucking do. I get excited when I look at Cock. In fact, all I want to do is make Master's Cock happy, no matter who that Master is.

My Master’s Cock becomes the only one in the world to me, and I want to go above and beyond to make it thrilled, excited, delighted beyond measure.

It doesn't help that I’m a fan of “little extras” in my wishes. Giving them more than what they bargained for. I can't help myself; I just want the best for my Masters, no matter who they are or where they come from. And what's best is so easy for me to give...a little extra money here, a little extra girth there, a little extra animal magnetism here, and so on.

So, looking at his bulge—his big bulge—I can't help but want to give him more than what he's thinking he can have.

“You can take it out,” I say, licking my lips. “You can stroke it if you want.”

“Stroke it?”

He asks this like he's never done such a thing before.

“You want to,” I say. “I can tell. And I'm really hot. I want to help you cum. Please?”

“Shit,” he says. “Are you serious?”

“I want to see it. It looks handsome. You’re so handsome. Can I see it, Master? Please? I want to see the Cock of my Master. I want to help you cum.”

“I thought we couldn’t touch?”

I giggle just enough to let him know I’m amused but not making fun. “Come on, Master. Certainly you don’t think I think you’ve never touched yourself before?”

He flushes a bit. Young enough to be embarrassed when a pretty girl is talking about him jerking off. Oh, he’s so sweet. I want to suck his Cock so fucking bad. I’ll have to settle for the next best thing.

He drops his pants to the ground and his Cock is out and I moan, and that makes him twitch and start stroking right away. Because he's never seen someone as pretty as me want his Cock as much as I do, he's already close to cumming.

Little extra incoming—with all the effort of a blink, I use a little of my magic and increase his stamina so that he can last longer. I don't want this to be over so quickly. I watch him grunt and shift, surprised at himself, the desire he feels, and how good it is to be able to sustain.

“That's it,” I lick my lips. “Stroke it.”

I'm touching myself too. My cunt is sopping wet just from serving, and especially from already using my magic to improve his life. My fingers slide up and down my clit, always so sensitive, and within seconds I'm already living right on the edge of a sweet, hard cum.

“Do you want to take this up a notch, Master?”

I'm way into escalation.

“What do you mean?”

He's looking right at my tits. That's good. I want him to. They're excellent tits. I sit up a little straighter so he can see the perfect semi-globes bounce as I finger my cunt.

“Imagine a girl you really want to fuck, sir. It can be a crush, a celebrity, a…sibling…”

Guys are all fucked up about their Cocks. They want them in anything hot enough. I’ve had so many lately who just want to fuck their stepsisters. I find it pretty hot to make it happen. Keep it all in the family, right?

Celebrities, too. There’s something I never would have thought about—girls that every Cock wanted all over the world! Wow! I’ve been called upon only twelve times in the last one hundred and twenty years, and nine out of those times, a guy has asked to either become or fuck a celebrity.

I do wish a couple of them would have been more specific. I keep trying to tell them—I have to follow my rules! Any wiggle room and it’s going to go poorly!

Instead, they wish to fuck a celebrity instead of making her a fuckslave like they deserve. That’s one night of fucking versus a whole lifetime of devoted service!

They get so wishy-washy when I purr nasty notions in their ear about slavery. Gosh! A girl can be perfectly happy and still be a slave. Just look at me! I’ve been a slave to this lamp for a thousand years and I love my life. Why not make her your fuckslave and still make her a silver screen star? She’ll go out, make millions, and bring it all home to you and thank you for letting her be yours while millions of dudes around the globe jack it to a hot body only YOU get?

Sigh.

They never listen, though. I think because I’m so pretty. Men always think they know better than pretty girls.

I can see him thinking, wheels turning. He's clearly got someone on his mind. I could find out who it is without him telling me, but that's a little presumptuous to read his mind already without permission. Really post-second-wish stuff.

“I can name someone real?” he asks.

“Please do.”

“You won’t be freaked out?”

“I’ll be turned on. I’ll like it.”

“Gwen,” he says, almost automatically. “She lives…ungh, down the hall. Won’t give me the time of day. I only know her name because of her mail slot.”

“And I bet you’d rather be intimate with a different slot of hers.”

It takes him a moment to get the joke. As he processes, I do a scan of the building, up and down, then a few apartments over. There she is—Gwen.

Tall. Lovely. Young. Has a boyfriend that probably I’m going to make her forget about. How fun! I'll get to make her beautiful body entirely about Master's Cock and fuck up her brain until all she understands is service. Oh, I hope he wants to enslave her instead of just fucking her. That would make me so happy.

Delaying my own pleasure for a moment, I pick up my nearby lamp and place it on the coffee table.

“Rub this lamp,” I explain. “Think of it like an emitter for your subconscious. You’ll see her. However you want her. Your most fantastic, delightful wishes. All the things you want her to say and feel. You’ll see.”

He follows instructions, already completely buying in to this fantasy. He sees her; I don’t. He sees his most intimate fantasy in the wavering red haze that’s opened up over the top of my lamp.

I didn’t have to use my lamp. I could have used anything. The Maxim mags he’s got laying around. The little robot collectibles that litter the shelves of his apartment. The lamp was just already centrally located. In fact, I didn’t have to use anything as an “emitter” of any kind; I’ve just found that mortals are happier when they think they can turn objects on and off.

“Oh man.” His voice is a low groan. “Hi, Gwen.”

In front of him, he sees a perfect image of Gwen. She's wearing an outfit that turns him on completely; something that he's always fantasized about her being in. I imagine it involves a short skirt, a cleavage-baring top (and young Gwen certainly has the cleavage for such a top), and some daring heels with very tall heels.

I only hear one side of the conversation, but I can imagine the rest.

“To see me?” he asks. “But I thought…your boyfriend…”

She probably doesn't give a fuck about her boyfriend anymore. They probably broke up because of the way she saw Xavier looking at her.

“When did that happen? Oh. When you saw the way I looked at you…oh…”

And then she couldn't help herself, knowing the man of her dreams wanted her like that. And then she wanted to give him everything.

“Oh fuck,” he groans. “Everything?”

He's really at his new limits; the image he sees is completely lifelike. The young beauty Gwen begging to be his girlfriend is something he just can't handle yet. I watch him cum with impressive volume all over my lamp and moan, cumming with him.

His pleasure is my pleasure now. Our lives are tied together like that.

Every time Master cums, I'll cum too. Every time he feels pleasure, feels intensity, feels the escalation of desires, so will I. And every time I do, I'll want him to feel more of it—because I only feel alive when he feels fucking good.

Xavier sits down after he cums, collapsing into his couch, stunned I think to see that I'm still there when he's done.

“Fuck,” he shakes his head. “Intense.”

I go ahead and make his refractory period shorter. But then I'm done with my extras.

Okay. I increase the capacity of his balls so his next cum will feel even better. But then I'm done.

Also I increase his mental capacity so that his imagination will be better the next time he thinks of Gwen. Done then.

Ugh. I'm doing it again.

I do this every time.

Something my new Master doesn’t know—something I’m forbidden to tell him—is a very important bit of information.

This happens with all my Masters, actually.

You see, the more I’m turned on by Xavier, the more I want to do for him. And the more I want to do for him, the more I fall in love with him.

So the longer he keeps me around and doesn’t use up all his wishes, the more I’ll make his life everything he wants just by virtue of being present. If he didn't wish for anything ever, he'd probably be God by the end of the week.

* * * * *

“So,” he says. “About these wishes…”

I’m making him supper with the sparse few ingredients he has on hand and little help from me. Just a simple beef roast with some Yukon gold potatoes and a hearty gravy sauce on the side. And a bottle of 1959 Dom Perignon. And an upgraded kitchen so that I can make it all to perfection.

And not the whole kitchen.

Just the fridge. And the oven. And the microwave. And the floors and cabinet. But I left the blender alone!

Don't look at me like that. I can feel you doing it, that shaking of your head and your eyeroll, judging away.

Look, I can't just give him the scraps and condiments he's got laying around, now can I? What kind of genie would I be if I did that? I'm supposed to serve him re-heated breadsticks from the cesspool pizza place down the street with a side of “fuck you, I guess I won't be a good genie to keep around after all”?

No. I'm supposed to make him Happy and Hard.

Which, judging from the way he's stroking as he watches me cook, is very much both indeed. It might have something to do with my outfit—or lack thereof. I've ditched my sheer stuff for a look straight out of the Victoria's Secret catalog he's been stroking to lately. Dark lace teddy with lots of hot strippy-straps; very tall heels.

“Yes, Master?”

“What are the rules?”

He's smarter than perhaps he looks to ask that.

“Well. I can’t really tell you all of them. I can only verify if something is or isn’t a rule.”

He's still stroking himself. It's distracting. I stand at his new basin sink, drooling slightly at the sight of him and his Big Cock. Ungh. I love him so much already, it's so unfair.

“Okay. Do I get three?”

“Yes.”

He stopped. Thinking.

“Do I get more than three?”

I smile, biting my lip and flashing my eyes at him. God, he’s smart. I want to suck his Cock so bad.

“No,” I say. “But that’s the kind of thinking you should be doing, Master.”

“I don’t get it. Why are you trying to help me? This is almost like…torment. To give me this but also to tell me that you’re going to fuck me over somehow.”

“I’m not going to try to fuck you over,” I say. “It’s just…there are rules.” The timer goes off for the oven and I'm a flurry of activity. “Here, dinner's ready. Think with a full belly.”

He sits down and begins to eat. I get wetter, closer to cumming with every bite he takes. Something I'm directly doing to him making him Happy? Oh, fuck. It makes me so wet and turned on. I kneel before him, prostrated, nodding encouragingly as he eats and whimpering.

It's obvious I'm staring at both him and his massively hard Cock. My mouth is watering, drooling. I don't care. He seems to like it. All that drool lands in my tits, even bigger now than they were before. He must love big tits; that's why mine are growing.

I make his Cock slightly larger; longer and harder and his orgasms more under his control. He's already in the top 75^th percentile of men when it comes to orgasmic stamina and repetitional ability; now he's at the 80^th.

Okay. 83^Rd, but I'm stopping there.

You see, what happens is that Cock really, really turns me on. And when Cock really turns me on, I get even hotter. My body gets tighter, my tits larger, my hair longer and softer, flowing until it’s like a blanket of fiery red gorgeous silk. And that means my Master, or Master(s) I suppose, get even more turned on by me. Then their Cocks get harder, and I get more turned on…

So why bring this up? Well. When I’m turned on, my understanding of the rules gets a little loosey-goosey. I give out my Little Extras. A Cock that’s just a few centimeters thick or longer. A refractory period divided in half. A body that more rapidly metabolizes fat so that it starts to melt off the bones of whoever owns me, improving their whole life. Things like that.

I think it’s all a massive trick from the Demon that took me in. You see, when a man is turned on, he’s liable to make less shrewd choices. And when I’m turned on, I’m less likely to resist and guide him. So together, we’re locked in this spiral of making instant-hot wishes just because we can. I think men get the idea that I’ll be theirs forever—which I would be happy to do! Gosh. I’d probably keep giving them Little Extras for as long as I could. An extra few percentages in the compound interest rates of their investment accounts. A few extra hundred in their savings. Elimination of some of those pesky debts that keep piling up.

Because of my Devotion—which is absolutely real, every time—these Masters think I’ll be around forever. But then the second that third wish happens and I stick around to make sure it’s all copacetic? I’m gone, back in the lamp.

“So,” he says, openly eyeballing my tits. I present for him, obedient and happy. “Let’s say I wish for a million bucks. What happens? A million deer overflow the apartment building?”

“No. We’re not allowed to use puns anymore. That went out of vogue about a thousand years ago. Half the English language was built on the backs of sex-frustrated monks wishing for ‘new nuns’ to serve them.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. Computer, that’s mine. That Master didn’t even know what it meant. He was not happy, believe me.”

“Okay.” He had finished his meal by now and was making a dessert out of my tits. I pushed my back up and out so that he could see them better, as is my duty and my pleasure. “Fuck. You’re…fuck.”

His hand went down to his Cock again under the table, slowly starting to stroke.

“May I?”

“Please, Master.” My voice is lush with desire. “And you don’t have to ask. If You want to stroke to me, I want You to stroke to me.”

“You like it when I stroke my cock, Zanthia?”

“I love it, Master.” My voice chokes up slightly. “I love it more than anything else, almost.”

“What do you love more?”

“You, Master.” My eyes are liquid need; I need him to believe me. “I love You more than anything else.”

“Good girl.”

I cum, right away and hard. I wasn't even touching myself, but that phrase fucks me up. Not expecting it at all, I feel a wave of Little Extras leaving me out of love for Master.

His dinner table, formerly a reformatted card table, is now made of solid oak and carved beautifully. The mother-of-pearl unpainted walls update with some trendy wainscoting. The window unit air conditioner that couldn't blow a fly off its path morphs into a powerful central A/C unit that would have cost more than Xavier's annual salary.

“Man, that's hot.”

“Y-yes,” I say, shakily.

“I want to keep asking you about wishes.”

“Yes, Master.”

“What are some of the dumb wishes you’ve gotten?”

“Oh you know...” slowly, my thoughts return to me. Master needs information, which means I need to help him. “...standard stuff. Like that million bucks one you mentioned? Okay, sure. But then they’ve got a million dollars hard cash in their home. That money takes up space. Hard to explain. Plus, it comes from somewhere. If I just created a million dollars? That creates inflation, and then it’s not exactly a million dollars, so you have to make more, but then that means it’s still not a million…you see?”

“Okay. So you steal it from other places.”

“Yes. That's simplest.”

“So how would I wish for a million dollars and it not be a hassle?”

“Well, first of all, I don’t know if you’ve seen the economy? But a million dollars isn’t even going to last you until retirement.”

“Okay. Fine. A billion dollars.” His Cock surges as he realizes it can happen; that there's no reason for him to think small time. “I want to be a billionaire. Or, fuck it, a trillionaire. How do I make that happen but…you know. Without having to run a trillion dollar company? Which I’d probably run into the ground. I barely know how to run my checkbook.”

I think for a moment. “I guess we would make you the heir to a few different fortunes. Eliminate anyone who would ask questions about it or come after you. Eliminate the other potential heirs.”

“Eliminate?” He looks pale.

“Only your happiness matters to me, Master. I have no issue wiping someone off the face of the planet if it means your wish comes true.”

In point of fact, it makes me wet as fuck. Wielding power for him is all I want in this world, and there's no greater power than that over life and death.

He coughs a little, thinking. “A trillion dollar heir…that would be a lot of attention.”

“More than likely.”

“I don’t really want to have to explain…you.”

“Understandable.”

I see the wheels of greed turning in his head. Men are predictable. Give them the most evil option imaginable, and encourage it, and they’ll think their saints for suggesting something lesser. A trillion dollar inheritance with seventy people dead? Unheard of! Corrupt! Wicked!

But a seventy million dollar inheritance with three people dead? Well…now we’re being reasonable!

“Maybe a really well-off person in the local area, though…someone old. So they’re not missing too much.”

You see?

“You’re so smart, Master. I’d be happy to formulate a list for you…”

“Yes,” he nods. “But later. I want to…I want to talk about Gwen.”

I bite my lip and nod urgently. He’s stroking harder now. I slide my lingerie bra top down and let him see the expanse of my sexy, full tits.

“Of course, Master. You want to fuck her.”

He looks conflicted.

“Yes. But not just that. I want…”

“You want her to Love you.”

He looks embarrassed. What a sweetie! Like I don’t know that men treasure love above all else.

“Yes.”

“It’s all right,” I coo, and moan a little when he strokes himself harder. “It’s hot that you want her to love You. You want her to enjoy it, what we’re going to do to her.”

“Yes.”

“You want her, even, to know that you made it happen and still be perfectly fine with it.”

“U-ungh,” he’s stroking so hard now. “Yes. Yes. Fuck yes. That. I want her to know I’m fucking with her head but be so in love with me that it doesn’t even matter to her.”

Okay. So you remember me mentioning how I can’t help myself? This is one of those times. I can feel his need. Feel his desire like it’s my own desire, like it’s my own need. Except I can’t be fucked—this is the only way I can feel intimacy with my Masters. Giving them their wishes, their purest heart’s desire.

I can’t make him say anything. But I can beg. And encourage. And moan. And I’m super fucking hot so we all tend to lose our heads.

“You could wish that she’s your lovey-dovey doting hard-crush girlfriend,” I moan. My fingers deep in my cunt now. “Wish that she’ll love you forever. No matter what you do. That she’ll be young and hot and sexy the whole time you’re together. That you’ll be a hot, fuckable ‘it’ couple that everyone’s jealous of.”

I know he's jealous of her boyfriend. Jealous of all the boyfriends every “Gwen” in his life has ever had. He's idealized them in a way, made them more than what they are. His subconscious is screaming it at me—I just want to give him what he's always wanted.

“F-fuck,” he moans. “Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah. I wish for that. Everything you just said. Make it so.”

“Your wish is my command.”

He and I both cum at the same time; just like before, I’m cumming because he does. He sprays all over me—or tries to, but it hits the barrier. There's a brief, magical moment when his thick load—well over a cup of it at this point, thanks to me—looks like it's actually going to cover my tits and face...and then it kind of splatters in front of me and down on the ground.

Dutifully, I clean it with a magicked-rag before it's an issue for him later. He uses the time to recover himself—which doesn't take long at all anymore.

We both look at each other in the stunned silence.

“Zanthia,” he says, a little reproachful. “You said you wouldn’t try to fuck me over. But now I’m one wish down, and…”

He has more to say, of course.

But there’s a sudden, fervent, fevered knocking at the door.

“Xavier? Xavier baby? Let me in!”

We look at each other for a moment—I smile, raising an eyebrow and nodding for him to go take a look. Of course he does; of course he's already hard again. I may have helped him get there faster.

He's going to fuck his dream girl! Am I supposed to leave him hanging? So yes, I made his Cock more powerful than ever.

At the door, Gwen is there, and she’s an absolute stunner. A completely breathtaking creature already; I can see why he’s so taken with her. Before, when I scanned the building, I read her aura. I knew who she was—kind of vain, obsessed with working out and posting on her instagram, biology pre-med student, plans to stay with her boyfriend until marriage unless someone richer and more handsome came along—and I would have recognized her on any street.

But seeing her, I know completely why Xavier is jacking it nightly to her (and often in the morning too).

She's spectacular. Without me doing anything, she's dressed in a killer tight tartan skirt and thigh-high brown leather boots that make love to her legs all the way up to her thighs. She's effortlessly Gwenful with brilliantly big tits and thick, flowing dark hair that goes well down her back. There's something effervescent about her—a sparkle to her skin or eyes that makes her completely magnetic in the way that some girls have. I'm surprised her old loser boyfriend hasn't already proposed to her.

Oh well, too late for him.

She leaps into his arms, fully expecting him to catch her. Of course, with the way he’s surprised by this, he’ll let her drop…if I let him.

But I love seeing people in love, and little awkward moments just ruin first encounters. So I made him a little stronger and a little more agile.

Easily, Xavier lifts her up and slams her into the nearby wall, creating a rather massive Gwen-shaped hole that both of them ignore while their lips lock in sizzling fashion.

Okay, so, he’s maybe more than a little bit stronger. Maybe he’s strong enough to bench press a cadillac or two and never has to work out again for the rest of his life.

Maybe.

And maybe his Cock is extra fucking big now because that’s hot as fuck and he’ll never get tired of fucking so then I can watch him and Gwen fuck for as long as I like and cum to it the whole time.

Okay?

Maybe.

He lifts Gwen off the wall, barely noting the hole they’ve made—which I've already started repairing; it'll be replaced with much nicer material by the end of the hour—and moans into her mouth, kissing her hard and deep.

Okay. Okay. I made him a lot stronger. I couldn’t help myself. He’s so cute and so clearly into Gwen, and obviously she’s mega into him because I made her that way.

And, yes, okay, I had to make her stronger and more durable and more agile too, but they’re in love! She has to keep up! Could you imagine the horror show of a super strong fuckmachine like what Xavier suddenly is fucking a normal girl? She’d be pulverized.

Plus, I did say as part of his wish conditions that Gwen would stay super hot and young forever, like the entire time they were together, so obviously I had to do a bit of tinkering with her genetics. His, too. I mean, it’s not fair if he wants to fuck his super hot and in-the-fuck-love-with-only-Him forever wife and he can’t because he’s old and infirm, right?

I get carried away, okay?

Carried away like Xavier does to Gwen, lifting her up with barely one hand—god, barely with one finger, I really made him ultra-strong—kicking the couch up sideways across the room until it’s stacked on top of his loveseat and pushing her down on the carpet.

He rips her skirt off, spreading her legs out wide with such force that she yelps in surprise. She's ultra-flexible now, too. Within seconds, he's discarded his own clothes, and his giant Cock stands at attention between them. It drips hot precum, already ready to sink deep into her waiting, willing pussy.

“I love you, oh fuck,” Gwen moans. “You’re so strong. How are you so strong? I had no idea. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Gwen. I always loved you. From the second I saw you.”

Her eyes light up at this revelation; she couldn't be happier. She also couldn't tell you what his name was about thirty minutes ago, but this doesn't matter to her anymore. I'm re-writing her memories on autopilot, creating an entirely romantic epic staring her needy cunt, His Huge Cock, and this being the culmination of years of desire.

“Please...” she moans, grasping the air around his Cock. “You have to fuck me with that. Please. Please, baby?”

He lowers down onto his knees and hikes her legs up around his waist. Her ass touching his thighs. Then, groaning, hands roaming all over gloriously tight young body, he enters inside of her.

“O-o-oh my god!”

Gwen cums right away. Her mind has reached the singularity—she's living in a world of constant pleasure as Xavier slowly pushes his way inside her tight, willing, unprotected cunt.

“Do it,” I whisper in my Master's ear. “Fuck her. Fuck her, darling. Fuck her pregnant.”

“Ugh, yeah...” he groans, thrusting harder. “Fuck yeah...”

Gwen is rapturous. She pulls herself up by his steel pillar body, kissing him deeply. She experiences every part of pleasure that won't blow her brain out of commission for good (plenty of time for that later). Xavier fucks her harder, pounding her back down into the carpet.

“Oh god, Master,” I moan, fingering my cunt and clit as hard as I can. “Oh god, yeah. Fuck her...fuck her...”

“Yes...” he groans, nodding. “Fuck yes. Gwen. Oh, fuck...oh fuck, Gwen...!”

He thrusts harder and harder. What started as a slow wave builds up to quick jackrabbit thrusts building up to a hard psychological need to cum inside the beautiful goddess who now can't stop proclaiming how much she loves him.

“I love you!” she moans. “I love you, baby! Oh fuck! Oh darling! Oh shit!”

If a man fucked me like he was fucking her—and god, I wish he would—I'd love him too. She's having so many orgasms per second that they don't even seem separate—but they definitely are. Her clit and cunt convulse, spasm uncontrollably, tightening and squeezing on his massive rod.

He could last for hours like this if he wanted, if he was aware—but this is the first time. And as such, he lasts a little less—because he's fucking the girl of his dreams and she's not only into it, but she'll obviously never be into anyone else ever for the rest of her life.

He buckles and bites her shoulder, slamming Gwen down and choking her in almost brutal fashion.

“You fucking take it,” he growls at her. “You fucking take my cum!”

“Y-yes!” she screams through his hand, his choking. “Yes! Fuck yes!”

I cum when he cums, and probably in my immediate pleasure I make him more powerful somehow. That's kind of my M.O. But damned if I could say how. When my brain comes back online, I'm seeing Xavier unclench his jaw from her shoulder. He would have torn into the flesh of a lesser woman—to Gwen, he's just left a hot red hickey.

When he finally withdraws himself, he's still spurting cups and cups of cum. It's a nonstop fuck-fountain, and I Love It.

He whispers. “Thanks, Zanthia.”

Gwen moans and grasps his Cock, stroking and starting to lick him clean.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Don't worry about it.”

She looks at his Cock, already hard again. Her mouth drools. I can see the cognizance draining out of her eyes.

“Worry about what?”

* * * * *

A week later, and Xavier is still brooding over his last two wishes. Taking his time. I don't mind; it's giving me plenty of time for Little Extras.

He’s living the life of a sex god sure enough, and I keep urgently and quietly making his life sexier.

Gwen has developed a kind of mental allergy for pants and a lot of her old, frumpier clothing. She lives now in tiny skirts, hot shorty shorts, skimpy tops, and lingerie.

Especially lingerie. It’s almost all she wears when she’s home, and if she wears anything else, it’s like an oversized sweater meant purely to show off how tiny and busty she is. Her cunt is on constant overload, turned by Xavier’s voice, smell, appearance, and even the thought of him—and she’s so purely unalteringly in love with him that she has trouble thinking of anything else. She's already about to drop out of college. She's missed all her classes over the last week; anything more complicated than sucking his brilliant Cock makes her anxious and forgetful.

She’s become a happy, urgently fuckbrained bimbo. Xavier is so turned on by her that he hardly notices most of the time.

She’s out on the balcony right now, taking photos of herself in a bikini for her instagram. She’s constantly badgering Xavier about going out to the beach so she can show off her tight gorgeous body for him. He’s all for it, naturally, but it’s the middle of winter.

Gwen might not be super-aware of what season it is. Or month. Or day.

Honestly, I'd be slightly surprised that she had the coordination to put on her swimsuit—it's the tricky kind with like eight different sexy criss-crossing straps—except she's not actually stupid. She's just pre-occupied with Cock.

Which, honestly, I sympathize with. I'm only growing more in love with Xavier's Cock by the second. He's watching Gwen post on her insta—she's up to two selfies a day and three hundred thousand followers—and stroking himself.

Because Xavier is stroking himself—his massive Cock sitting like a totem of masculinity in his lap—I'm fingering myself and kneeling before him, drooling and fantasizing. Making him a little harder..just a little longer...

“I almost want to wish she would stop doing that.”

I look at Gwen, making a look that could kill feeble-hearted men. “What? Showing off?”

“No. That’s hot. Just…being obsessed over her social media stuff. It’s all she seems to care about. Isn’t she like, going to be a doctor? She hasn’t been to class since we’ve been together. Should I wish for her to focus?”

“She’s focused on your Cock. I thought you’d be happy about that.”

He’s woken up every morning with a luxurious, lingerie-clad blowjob from the girl of his dreams for the last week. Thanks to me. Is he saying he's ungrateful?

“I’m definitely happy about that,” he says. “It’s just…you know. I don’t want to be everything she likes. That’s a lot of pressure.”

I feel my anger dying down when he says how happy he is.

“To be someone she likes?”

“I mean. You know. I just want her to have her own thing going on and to really like my Cock. And I want her to like some of the things I like.”

“You don’t have to waste a wish on that.”

“Really?”

I can tell he's getting serious now because he's stopped stroking. It makes me a little crazy, seeing his hand on his Cock but no strokes. Like a sneeze hiding out behind your eyes.

“She’ll love you no matter what, remember? People can change behaviors. I mean, you could start slapping her around and her brain would reorganize itself to make her like it. That’s how magic works.”

“I’m not going to start slapping her around. Holy shit, what’s wrong with you?”

He says that, but he starts stroking himself again. I can tell that kind of power turns him on. And to be honest, I wonder myself sometimes what's wrong with me. I can’t blame that demon for everything.

I shrug. “It’d be hot if she liked it. If she’s so in love with you that she’s weeping and sucking you off and saying sorry that she made you angry. That’s hot, right?”

“God. You’re all fucked up.” He shakes his head, unable to hide all the precum he’s spurting from a living wish-giving sex goddess encouraging him to treat women like disposable, abusable objects. “I just wish—er. No. No. I don’t wish. I just would like it if she liked what I like more.”

I nod, going all googly-eyed at his Cock. His precum is just slightly slicker. Creates just slightly more suction. His hand shape makes it feel just slightly more like a wet, tight, hot cunt...

“What I’m saying is, just tell her. She’ll love you no matter what. Tell her all of it. Tell her you want her to play videogames with you. Tell her you want her to call you Master in bed. Tell her you want to fuck her step-sister.”

“I…you know about that?”

Stroking even harder now. Longer. Close to cumming. Fuck yes.

Of course I know he wants to fuck her step-sister. Hell, I want to fuck her step-sister. Mindy—that's her name—is a super hot blonde and could totally pass for Gwen's sister. She's the same exact young hot age and they've known each other for so long that they refer to each other as sisters.

“She probably does too, the way you ogled her yesterday when the two of you were checking out her insta. Look. She’s forever in love with you. Remember your wish? You could break up with her tomorrow, wrench her heart in two, stomp on it and take a dump on it, then come back to her in a week and she’d be apologizing for whatever she did—which would be nothing in this scenario—and begging to suck You off to make it all better. She’s Yours.”

He cums, briefly—only two cups of it—all over coffee table. Outside, in the middle of an insta story, Gwen feels his cum (they're connected like that now; his Cock's pleasure is her cunt's pleasure) and falls to her knees and moans his name. She's streaming live. Three hundred thousand oglers just got a dose of a sex goddess moaning to her Master.

Fuck yeah.

Back inside with me, Master is still hard—of fucking course—and still stroking. His body is tireless.

“Well.” He huffs. “I’ve got two more wishes.”

“Yes.”

“I could wish for money,” he says. “It’s great being, you know, a really strong stud with a hot girlfriend…but we’ll need to eat.”

Not as much as he thinks, actually, as I took care of that too.

Look, I’ve got like twenty-four hours a day of lusty-lust cum-fueled haze to work with, right? I’m watching these two superstar fuck deities go at it, and it’s really arousing, and I want them to have so much…I can’t help myself, okay?

So neither of them need to eat. Or sleep, really. Or do anything but fuck and suck and dominate and submit.

“My parents have money,” says Gwen, walking back in. “After we’re married, they’ll take care of us.”

“Sure,” says Xavier. “And then we can just bump them off and take the inheritance.”

Xavier is joking. Gwen kneels down between his legs and obediently starts to stroke and lick his Cock. Another Little Extra. If they’re alone, this is her primary directive; the first thing she thinks of doing. It softens up her brain cells, makes her even more malleable.

“Do you want to do that?” she asks, perfectly serious. “They go skiing. We could arrange an accident. I don’t think it would be that hard.”

“Fuck, what? You want to…what?”

Her expression—doting, loving, devastating—hasn't changed. “I want you to be happy.”

“But you…you love them…”

She’s really going after his Cock now, slurping and suckling and sliding and kissing and licking. I’ve taught her so well. I can't touch her, but at night I whisper in her ears and fill her head with millenia of Cock-Worshiping secrets; they get flooded right into her subconscious. Every other part of her personality is just warped around what I suggest and nuzzle into her fragile, flexible, plastic little brain.

“I. Love. You.” She emphasizes every word with a long suck of his Cock. “There’s no room for anything else. You have all my Love, darling. No one else rates. Not even them.” She shrugs. “There’s all kinds of ways we can bump them off. I don’t care. We won’t get caught. I’m too pretty and you’re too strong and smart. Holiday visits are lame anyway. There’s not enough of your Cock. I want you to be my Husband and if the only way that happens is if you're rich and they're dead, I'm like, totally cool with—”

“Fuck. Fuck. Hold on. Stop.”

She pouts a bit but is utterly obedient. Right away, she begins to stroke him, and continues to do so as he guides her up on his lap. His Cock is so fantastically huge it looks like she’s adoring the shaft of a baseball bat; it goes almost all the way up to his broad, marble-hard chest.

“I don’t want you to bump anyone off,” he says. “But I do want to try something, okay?”

“Yes, Darling.”

“I want you to open your phone. Show me your sister.”

She looks confused; thunderstruck. She's just been offering him the world—fucking matricide and patricide—and he wants to look at her sister?

“Mindy? But…why?”

“I want you to show me that picture of her in the bikini.”

I know the one he means. It's a red bikini, and Mindy looks smashing in it. I am trying, meanwhile, to signal to Xavier that this is not how to go about this conversation.

Gwen’s fingers fly over the phone even as she’s questioning. “I’m…stroking you and you want to look at my sister? Babe, this is a little weird.”

“I want to fuck her.”

Revulsion begins to crawl over Gwen’s face. “…okay?”

“What do you think about that?”

“I mean I…I don’t understand why I’m not enough for you, I guess? I mean aren’t I really hot? Like, really fucking hot? I’m dressing in lingerie and swimsuits all day long and I’m not enough for you, and you don’t even want some random threesome, which I think I could wrap my brain around, you want to fuck my sister?”

Gwen, this entire time, still obediently strokes Xavier, though not as fervently as before. Like I said—she's not stupid. She's just really focused on his Cock.

“I…I don’t understand,” he shakes his head. “You’re supposed to be okay with it. You’re supposed to still be in love with me.”

“Just because I’m in love with you doesn’t mean you’re not a fucking asshole, asshole!” Gwen stands up now, truly upset.

Xavier looks at me, stunned. “You told me to do this.”

Gwen spins on him, furious. “I told you to do this? Me? I told you to tell me that while I’m giving you a fucking blowjob, offering up fucking insane murder plans, to tell me you want to fuck my sister? I told you that?”

I have to intervene. “You told her you wanted to fuck her. She’ll accept it, eventually. What you didn’t do was tell her that you want her to want you to fuck her.” I lick my lips. “Or her to want to fuck her. She’s upset now. It might take some pushing.”

Xavier shakes his head, clearly a little flummoxed. He waves at Gwen. “Come here.”

“No. Fuck you. Say you’re sorry!”

“Gwen.” His voice takes a different tone. “Come. Here.”

A change comes over Gwen. Her shoulders slump forward. She’s defeated. He’s used the Tone. She can’t argue with the Tone.

Another Little Extra.

Sorry not sorry, Gwen. Master wins. Master always wins.

Fuck. It’s so hot when he runs her life. Ungh.

I want him to fuck her entire fucking brain. I want to do it with him. I want to make his Cock semi-intangible and actually fuck her actual brain, that's how much I Love My Master. I’m so crazy turned on by seeing him boss her around that I start to openly finger-fuck my hot little cunt.

Gwen comes back and sits down in front of him.

“On your knees. Like a Good Girl.”

Oh, fuck. He's still using the Tone, and now he's used the Trigger. He's playing dirty.

He waits for her to get on her knees—doesn't take long—to dock her heavy tits on his thighs and to start stroking.

“I want you to want me to fuck Mindy.”

“You…you want…”

Gwen is flushing. Gears are turning; she’s working it out in her brain. How she can rectify what she knows about herself with what she now knows about Xavier.

“I want you to find Mindy really attractive.”

“She is. She so is, but—”

“You’re incredibly attractive, Gwen. You’re hot as fuck.”

She blushes. “Thank you, darling. But—”

“And I fuck you constantly.”

Gwen’s look is pure love and affection; she’s over the moon for her Man. “You really do.”

“And people get what they deserve.”

“Yes. Yes, of course they do.”

“So I must deserve to fuck You.”

“Y-yeah. You do. But, Mindy…”

“And I deserve to fuck attractive girls. You want me to fuck really attractive girls.”

“You deserve…” she licks her lips. “You deserve to…”

“To fuck really attractive girls. You should be stroking my Cock with two hands right now. I deserve it.”

Her hands sync up immediately on his Cock. The heavier his arousal, the harder it is for her to think.

Little Extra.

“You want me to have what I deserve,” he says.

“I want You to have what You deserve.”

“You want me to fuck attractive girls.”

“I want you to fuck attractive girls.”

“Mindy is a really attractive girl.”

“Mindy is a really attractive girl.”

“You must want me to fuck your sister.”

“I...ungh fuck...want you...to...you're so biiiig...to fuck my sister.”

I whisper something into Gwen’s ear. Digging into her subconscious. Doing what my Master has said he wants and needed. Giving him that little extra push.

“Wh-what was that?” said Xavier. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘don’t you wish she was here right now?’”

Gwen echoes me without hearing me. “Don’t you wish she was here right now?”

He figures out what I'm doing right away—I can tell because I know when I manipulate him, it excites him, and he's started cumming all over Gwen's face, Gwen's tits, down Gwen's throat.

I repeat her. “Don’t you wish she was here right now?”

I'm right behind Gwen, fingering my pussy, fondling my hot picture-perfect body.

“She could be sucking you.”

“She could be stroking you.”

He keeps cumming; cumming harder. He can't stop now. Every cumshot just turns him on more.

“She could be fucking you.”

“She could be worshiping you.”

“She could be your girlfriend just like I am,” says Gwen. “I want that. I want my sister to be your girlfriend too. Please, baby?”

“Please, Master? She could be here right now and she could be your girlfriend just like Gwen…”

He's cumming nonstop now.

“Fuck. Fuck yes.” He jams Gwen's lips down on his Cock just to get her to shut up completely. “Okay. I wish that. I wish that. Everything you’ve said.”

I’ve already zeroed in on Mindy from the nature of the conversation. Prediction is one of my gifts. I am, of course, especially good at it when I’m predicting threesomes and suggesting to heavily turned-on power-trip-hungry males to have threesomes, but let’s not get too far into the weeds.

One second after Xavier makes his wish—really, barely time for it to register for him that he had made a wish at all—Mindy appears in the living room.

Everyone is always taken aback by teleportation. Even someone like Xavier, who had clearly had his entire body and life changed within the course of the last several days, who had a bigger Cock and a better body and a bangin’ hot babe for a girlfriend, jumped at the sight of suddenly appearing Mindy. One second she’s not there; the next second she definitely is.

There was no bang or smoke or any of that pomp and circumstance. I can make that kind of thing happen, but I’m always worried that it’ll kill the mood. And Gwen is being so utterly hot about Xavier fucking with her mind and will and desires, why would I want to ruin that by showing off?

“G-Gwen?” Mindy says, a bit stunned.

She was dressed in sweats and a throw. But that just won’t do; not for what Xavier deserves.

With a snap, just for flair, I change her into a tight leather skirt and a pair of three-inch heels.

Then I tease her hair out a bit, make the blond mass she sports really on display.

A touch of red in her cheeks. A few pounds shifted from her thighs to her tits. There. That’s it.

Okay. And also a tighter top; a silk blouse that feels like it’s barely there. That’s all though.

As Xavier approaches her, I unbutton the top two buttons. What’s the point of having those great titties if they’re not showing off? That’s it, though.

Also I erase maybe the last four hundred of her dream sessions while she was sleeping with images of worshiping Xavier’s Cock.

But that’s all.

I can control this; I can! I really can. I just fucking Love my Master. Is that so wrong?

“O-oh my god,” Mindy whispers. She's starting to cry. “Oh my god.”

Xavier stands up and sets Gwen to one side. Gwen crawls after him hungrily, cum sliding down her lips and tits. She looks at her sister with desire. I make her desire even stronger. I make it an unrequited love for her. That'll really get Master hard as fuck.

Mindy reaches a hand up toward him and snaps it back, like she's afraid to touch. He's so much man to her. He's everything.

“Y-you're real,” she whispers. “I can't believe you're really real. You're him. You're my dream man.”

“I know,” he says.

When he kisses her—which he does expertly, having practiced so much with Gwen—his Cock slides up between their bodies and continues to erupt an endless supply of cum. It coats her tight young body, plastering her skimpy clothes to her frame.

“You’re my girlfriend,” he says to Gwen.

“I’m your girlfriend.”

“You love being my girlfriend.”

“I love being your girlfriend.”

“Mindy is my girlfriend too.”

“I’m your girlfriend too.”

“You both need to be my girlfriends.”

“We need to be your girlfriends.”

“I deserve all the girlfriends I want.”

“You deserve all the girlfriends you want.”

He sits down at his couch, like he's on a throne. With no ceremony, he shoves Mindy on one side and Gwen on the other.

“I deserve girlfriends who know how to suck Cock together,” he says.

Ungh. I'm so fucking proud of Him. He's such a Man.

“Are you the girls for the job?”

They both nod excitedly. “Yes, Sir!”

He leans back, snapping his fingers, and telling them to go to work. They do right away, mixing their hot tongues over his giant spurting Cockhead. His cum is endless; he never stops. The real prize for me is watching Mindy and Gwen make out madly, lovingly, on his Cock. These two sisters, who have known each other for years, sliding their supple, gorgeous mouths up and down the big, fat Cock of the Man who owns them now.

Gwen gets really excited; a thought appears in her head (that I may have had something to do with).

She holds Mindy down on Xavier's Cock and guides her sister up and down.

“I Love being Your Girlfriend, Xavier.”

She does this over and over. Holding her sister until she's choking there, filling all the way up with her boyfriend's endless amount of cum.

Finally, when Mindy can't take anymore, Gwen lets her up...and Mindy, after gasping for air for a few seconds, grabs Gwen's head and shoves her down on Xavier's Cock.

“I Love being Your Girlfriend, Xavier.”

Mindy holds her down even harder than Gwen held her, making her choke harder. I enlarge Xavier's Cock just a bit so that it's uncomfortable for Gwen—making her really struggle in her tight fucking hot babe throat.

Finally Mindy lets Gwen up, who, cumming madly, mouth dripping with gorgeous seed, makes out madly with her sister. Their sister tongues lashing each other, slipping and sliding over the head of his bulbous member. Warm milk leaks from their tits and runs down their hot bodies. Then, without any warning, Gwen shoves Mindy's face down on the Cock again wholesale, and the whole process repeats itself.

They continue like this, on and on, toying with each other and pleasing their fuck-hunk god boyfriend, the only thought in their mind being how badly they need to make him happy enough to fuck their unprotected pussies.

I'm such a good genie.

* * * * *

Later that night, after Mindy and Gwen are finally fucked into a barely-conscious state, which takes upwards of several hundred orgasms for them, and probably gallons of cum fucked into their unprotected previously-virgin pussies, Xavier gets up on the bed and gestures that he wants to talk. Even so, he arranges Gwen and Mindy's mouth around his Cock so they're snuggling and sucking him like he deserves.

“I’ve got it figured out,” he tells me.

“What’s that, Master?”

“My last wish. I’ve figured it out.”

Straightaway, I can tell he’s serious. There’s not going to be any changing his mind or making suggestions. There’s a stern look on his face; the look he uses (whether he knows it or not) when he’s using The Tone. It makes me wet, makes me melt, makes me wish more than anything I could drop to my knees and suck his Cock like a good wish-giving genie girl.

But I can’t; I really can’t. It’s the one rule I can’t bend or break. I can never touch my Master.

“I’m so happy for You, Sir.” I try valiantly to hide the choking in my voice. I know what will happen after he makes his wish. “What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve said. What you’ve suggested. How you’ve changed them.” He points to the sleeping, cuddling pair of Mindy and Gwen. Their fingers are stuffed in each other’s dripping wet cunts and every so often they snugglefuck each other into a hot, yawny, moany orgasm. “How you’ve changed me.”

He gestures at himself now. The thickness of his Cock, open to the night air. The massiveness of his body. How handsome and utterly shredded he’s become.

“I don’t want this all to go to shit the second you’re gone. And you will leave, won’t you?”

I gulp. He’s guessed. “After your last wish. After I see it through.”

“I don’t want to be Cock rich and cash poor. I don’t want to not be able to take care of them. I don’t want to be the most handsome hobo with the most gorgeous hobo girlfriends. I don’t care if they don’t care. I care. They deserve better than that. And so do I.”

“Yes, Master,” I moan. “Of course you do.”

He takes the sleeping Mindy by one leg and drags her over to the side of the bed. Without even seeming to wake, she obediently begins to slurp and kiss his Cock. He cums almost immediately, and keeps cumming, watching me the whole time with heat in his cheeks.

God, he’s so hot. I’ve made him so hot.

“And I think you’re changing lots of stuff all the time,” he said. “I’ve already noticed there’s more money in my accounts than there was last night. And more then than the night before.”

“Compound interest is the most powerful force in the universe, Master.”

“Don’t patronize me, Zanthia. They have extra zeros, for God’s sake. You’re altering it. Without being asked. I think if I kept you around, you’d keep altering things, wouldn’t you?”

I’m physically (and metaphysically, I suppose, given what I am) unable to answer that. Instead I shudder.

“I think that you’re like…like some kind of reverse curse. You keep adding blessings that I don’t even think about. Like our sink.” He points to the bedroom bathroom. “That sink was nearly busted three days ago. It looked like the last tenant used it for a shower. Now it’s…some German name I can’t even pronounce and looks like it costs more than my car.”

It did cost more than his car. Or it would have, except…I kind of just updated his car, too.

I’m out of control. I want to give him everything. I want to give him the whole world. Ungh.

“I appreciate all of it, Zanthia. I really do. I…holy fuck. I appreciate everything about it.” He’s really fucking Mindy’s face now. “But there’s two issues with it. One, you’re fucking with my memory. I’m not sure what really is part of my life or isn’t. I mean…part of the wishes you’re creating or part of something else. I have strong, vivid memories of Gwen being my high school sweetheart. The only reason I know they’re not true is because you’re here, and if you’re here, then she must have been…my neighbor? I think. That I wished for. I must have wished for her.”

“You did.”

He nods. “Good. Then that’s an issue. I need to know what’s mine and what’s not mine. I need to…I need my own accomplishments. I can’t just run on your fuel forever.”

“I understand, Master.”

“The other issue is that we can’t fuck, and it’s miserable with how much I care about you being around you when we can’t fuck.”

I nod. I’ve had this issue before. I mess it up every time!

Every time I think I’m just going to be a flirty, friendly, happy genie and sexify a young stud’s life. And every time I fall in love, and he falls in love with me, and we make stupid decisions…ugh.

“I understand, Master,” I say again. I’m barely keeping it together.

“So I’ve thought about this. I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s been pretty much all I’ve been thinking about when I’m not…you know.”

Mindy has to tap out on the fountain of his Cock. Their ruckus woke Gwen, who kisses her sister deeply, licking cum off her tongue, before sliding her own mouth down on Xavier’s thick, majestic shaft.

“There’s a girl downstairs, I think in Apartment 1b. She’s got red hair. I’ve never fucked a redhead. She’s hot and I want to fuck her.”

“That’s your wish?”

“Just listen. There’s also a hairdresser I’ve seen at the building across the street. I want to fuck her and I want her to give free haircuts to my girls. And there’s a clerk at the bank with big tits who I think would look fantastic if she lost ten pounds in a day like Mindy apparently did, according to her instagram just a day ago and now, and only because she’s drunk my cum, and so I want to facefuck that clerk until she’s in perfect shape and hot enough to fuck me for real. And there’s girls every day I walk past on the street who really belong on their knees, drenched in my cum or begging for my approval. And I’ve changed Mindy and Gwen, haven’t I? Not just you. You made it so I changed them. My pheromones. My hormones. My cum. My saliva. My touch. My scent. That’s what’s fucked them up, isn’t it? We’re in sync like that. You made us that way.”

I nod. I can verify that much.

“Bring that redhead up here. From downstairs.”

“Is that your wish?”

“Do as I say, Zanthia.”

Ungh. He uses The Tone and I don’t have to do it, but I really fucking want to, and I think I have an idea of what he has in mind and it’s really fucking sexy, so of course I comply.

One second, the redhead isn’t here. The next second she is.

It’s the deadest part of the morning, so of course she’s asleep. I position her so she arrives on the carpet and doesn’t even wake. She’s wearing tight pajamas that barely cover the strain of her heavy tits.

Right away I go to work on her. I can’t help myself. I make her hair a little more lustrous—he was so impressed with the color! It was a dye job, for vibrancy, so I make it au natural from now on and make sure she never has to wash or comb it again unless she wants to. It’ll naturally style itself in the way that will most make Xavier hard for the rest of her life.

Fuck. He’s right. I really am too much. I can’t help it. He’s so hot. I want his Cock so fucking hard. I clear her skin of any acne or marks and that’s it.

And then I erase all the hair on her body that’s not on top of her head. And that’s it.

And I make her eyes more vibrantly green. That’s it, though.

Just a tad more ass to her. There. That’s all.

“What’s her name?” he asks me.

I check. “Alexandra.”

“Here’s the wish, then, Zanthia. What I do to Gwen and Mindy? The way you’ve synced me up with them? Made them change and be hotter based on my chemistry, my wants? How I’ve made them immortal and gorgeous and fertile forever? I wish I could do that to any woman in the world.”

“As you wish, Master.”

It’s an ingenious little wish. He’s taken care of his fucking and financial issues in one fell swoop. If he ever needs more cash than what I’ve dumped as a Little Extra in his bank accounts—and gosh, it will probably take a while before that’s true—he can just waltz into the home of some rich heiress and take everything she has. Or into the home of some rich millionaire CEO man and mindfuck his wife until she’s ready to murder her husband and donate all her the remaining cash to Xavier.

Gwen and Mindy have been barely cognizant of what’s been happening. They’re so cumdrunk that a parade of white tiger-elephant hybrids could waltz through trumpeting showtunes from Broadway and they’d ask Xavier politely to turn the television down so they could stroke n’ suck n’ slurp his Cock in sleepy peace.

But now Xavier wakes them up, slapping them on the asses. “Up, girls. I’ve got something for you to do.”

They immediately wake, stretching sexily and leaning into each other with sleepy hot snuggle kisses.

I can’t help but dress them in tight, hot lingerie. Their tits displayed proudly in tight red and black lingerie. That’s it, though.

And six-inch heels. From Louboutin. That’s all.

Okay. Casadei. Casadei is hotter. And the heels are a little higher. It’s so hot to see their calves adjust as they move. Ungh.

Soon, Xavier is standing over Alexandra. His Cock pours cum down next to her face in a thick, gooey, delicious-smelling puddle. Gwen and Mindy both kneel down next to him, both of them taking care to drop a single knee into his Cum. They Know what’s good for them. They Know what their lifesource is, what their lives are about now.

“This is Alexandra,” he explains. “You want me to fuck her. I want you to want me to fuck her. You want me to own her, like I own you.”

“Yes, baby.” Gwen nods, sliding her cheek against his muscled thigh. “That’s so hot. Fuck yeah. You're such an amazing boyfriend.”

“Yes, sir,” says Mindy, eagerly starting to stroke his Cock.

“I'm not your boyfriend,” he says to Gwen. “I'm your fucking Master. You got that?”

Gwen and Mindy both nod. They answer in sisterly unison: “Yes, Master.”

My work here is nearly done. He's so fucking close.

“Wake her up.”

Obediently, they raise her up until she’s awake. At first Alexandra is giggly, almost high. The proximity to his cum taking its toll.

“W-what?” Alexandra looks up at him. “What the fuck is this? Who are you?”

Her voice is a shuddering whisper. She can’t believe how turned on she is. This must feel like a dream. Her cunt is overloading on more visual pleasure than she’s ever experienced before. Just his scent now is hardwired into her brain to activate every last pleasure center she has.

He grabs her by the hair. Staring down at her. His Cock centimeters from her lips.

“You belong to me now.”

“I…I what? I…no. I’m not…”

He slaps her. It's quick, decisive. Not cruel. There to shock her—to wake her up, to put her in her place. I cum so hard. He's such a fucking Man now.

“You belong to me, or you don’t get this Cock.”

“Make a decision, stupid,” says Gwen.

“It’s really simple.” Mindy is stroking him, encouraging the fountain of cum that streams from his Cock. “Just be his and then you can have his Master Cock. What’s there to think about?”

Mindy and Gwen start sucking his cock.

“He’s so good,” moans Gwen.

Mindy’s tongue-work is especially good. “Join us. Adore him with us. Master deserves it.”

“…deserves it…”

Alexandra leans in—but Xavier puts a finger on her forehead. Immediately, she cums from his touch. That's all it takes now. He's so fucking strong. He's like a God. To Alexandra, he is God.

“Say please.”

Gwen licks him long. “You have to say please like a good girl or else he won’t let you.”

“P-please.”

“Please what?” says Xavier.

“Please, Master. Please may I—”

But she can’t—because he takes her by the throat, right at the second of her willing, needy compliance and consent—and pins her to the ground.

“I don’t need my Cock sucked,” he growls into her ear. “I need to fuck you. I need to breed you. What do you think about that?”

Gwen and Mindy moan excitedly. They love watching their Master fuck.

“Y-yes!” Alexandra chokes. “Yes! In me! Please! I need it!”

Almost immediately he's inside of her. His length runs almost up to her sternum, but his magic, powerful Cock also makes room for himself inside. All the parts of her body that he doesn't need are eliminated. Her insides become a PurelyPleasingMaster factory—only enough there to be fucked, to be bred, and to process his cum for hot liquid energy. It's all they need.

He keeps choking her the whole time. Gwen and Mindy join in—their hands clasping over his, excitedly looking up at him for his approval, which he gives overwhelmingly.

“He's gonna fuck up your life,” Gwen coos into her ear.

“Gonna fuck up your mind,” says Mindy.

Alexandra, choking, only chokes harder as Gwen and Mindy trade off shoving their tits in her mouth while their Master fucks her.

“He owns you.”

“He owns all of us.”

Their big, beautiful breasts leak out hot, amazing milk down the redhead's mouth. Each gulp of it makes her body tighter, tinier, more toned.

“He's your God.”

“He's our God.”

Alexandra moans and sucks and swallows despite her choked throat. Her hair and skin start to shine, almost effervescent, as Xavier continues to fuck and cum inside of her pussy.

Her unprotected pussy. Her virgin pussy.

She didn't even like boys before this—and she still doesn't, because from now on, only the Real Man will be able to fuck her up like this.

Alexandra is feeling the singularity—the constant cum sensation that both Gwen and Mindy have already passed through and now live their entire lives with. They're cruel to the new girl now, teasing her, choking and almost mocking her, but soon they'll all be perfect hot fucksisters to worship Master.

I watch him cum into Alexandra’s gorgeously tight, hot pussy. Alexandra cums, shrieking, calling his name, calling him Master. Gwen and Mindy cum with him, all of them writhing in one perfect unison of pleasure.

Just a few seconds later—while they’re still basking in the afterglow—I begin to fade. Xavier winks at me, choking Alexandra a little more for my enjoyment, as I return entirely to the lamp.

There’s a rattling and whirling as the lamp lifts up and out of the apartment, floating lighter than wind into the distance. Xavier watches, still balls deep inside his newest acquisition.

Gwen, staring up at him with deep, urgent, crushing love in her eyes. Adoring his every movement and motion. Mindy, loving him, loving her sister. Alexandra, still dimly confused but knowing her true purpose now is to fuck this God above her and to be fucked by him—to serve his every last desire.

All three of them needing—aching—to fulfill his every last wish.

Vibrating with orgasmic pleasure, I have to give him one last gift: I take away his memory of me.

As far as he knows, this is the life he’s always led. That’s the last gift I give him.

# # #

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