~John~

My grandfather was an eminent benefactor.

His greatest joy came from giving, aiding wherever he could to make a difference in the world.

He dedicated untold sums of money, shaping lives around the globe by building orphanages, schools, and bolstering various foundations. However, his worldly contributions came at the cost of his presence at home.

Being his eldest grandson, I have only had a few face-to-face encounters with him over my 28 years of existence.

Yes, he financed my college education, my sister’s, and indeed every other family member’s educational pursuits. Yet, there were no letters, no birthday presents, no phone calls to check in. Consumed by his mission to save the world, he neglected his own family.

Admittedly, I harbor some resentment. Wouldn’t anyone? How would it feel to hear and read about your grandfather’s global benevolence more often than you see your own parents?

When we received the news of his passing, the executor of his estate contacted us, a mere day before the funeral. My entire family was informed that first-class tickets had been booked for us on the next flight.

At first, I was undecided about attending. More so, I believe, than the rest of my family. I had work commitments, bills to settle, and no vacation time to spare. After a few hours of contemplation, I decided to seize the opportunity. I couldn’t refuse a first-class ticket and a visit to his estate, a place I’d heard so much about but never seen in person.

The flight was spectacular. It was my first taste of first-class luxury. Our clan occupied the entire front section of the plane. As we collected our luggage, a familiar face greeted us.

“Hey Frank!” I greeted the aged man, who was looking dapper in his Italian suit, complemented by a refined cobalt blue pocket square.

“Hey Kiddo,” Frank responded, enveloping me in a comforting, familiar embrace. “How have you been?”

Frank was my grandfather’s trusted confidant. I saw him far more frequently than I did my own grandfather. Frank personally handed over the tuition checks. He was the one who initiated my involvement in volunteer work during high school and college. He played the role of a grandfather more than my biological one ever did.

“I’ve been well,” I answered. “Work’s hectic, but I recently moved into a cozy city apartment. How about you?”

“Good to hear,” Frank responded, his tone taking a melancholic turn. “Things have been tough here. But I’m glad you all could make it!”

“It’s good to see you, Frank,” I remarked, patting his shoulder as we moved towards the van waiting outside the airport.

“Are you still volunteering at the foundation in the city?” he asked. The foundation, a project of my grandfather’s, aimed to battle homelessness in the city. I’d volunteered there during college.

It had been years since I last stepped foot in the place, but I didn’t want Frank to know that. In his eyes, I was a responsible, upstanding youth. What he didn’t know was that I’d given up volunteering soon after finishing college. Volunteering doesn’t pay the bills.

“Yeah,” I replied to Frank, “The foundation is thriving!”

“That’s good to hear,” Frank said, “Your grandfather established that foundation intending for you to lead it someday.”

“I’m aware, I’m aware,” I replied, feeling a sense of relief. “You’ve always told me how he had high hopes for me and how proud he was.”

The journey to the estate felt interminable. The property was sequestered deep within an isolated landscape, far removed from urban life. As we trundled along the driveway, I found myself questioning its seemingly endless stretch. Indeed, the driveway alone was lengthier than my daily commute to work.

We swept past several quaint residences, all situated within the estate grounds, until we reached the heart of the property - the main house. Its grandeur was sudden and awe-inspiring, materializing out of nowhere.

The house was an architectural titan, easily dwarfing my modest apartment complex. To call it a ‘house’ felt like an understatement.

Frank assigned each of us to our individual rooms, encouraging us to settle in and rest. He informed us that the funeral was scheduled to begin punctually at 4 PM.

With a few hours to spare, I meandered through the colossal mansion, aimlessly exploring its corners.

Priceless artwork, undoubtedly the creations of renowned artists, adorned the mansion walls.

“An art enthusiast, perhaps...” I mused to myself, trailing along an extensive corridor.

Upon discovering what appeared to be a library, I felt an overwhelming sense of stepping into a historical archive. Artifacts spanning centuries, tokens from various civilizations, were meticulously displayed.

From what I’d gathered, an auction selling all his possessions had occurred a few days prior. The proceeds were designated to fund his numerous foundations.

“How could one man amass such wealth, yet withhold it from his own family?” I contemplated, transfixed by the opulence around me.

The funeral was protracted. A string of unfamiliar faces delivered eulogies, people I’d never met, hailing from all corners of the globe. They offered nothing but praise for my grandfather. Their speeches mirrored one another, the same effusive sentiments echoing time and again.

Ironically, my father was the only family member who addressed the gathering, and his words were succinct.

As the funeral service concluded, we proceeded to the reception. My family and I felt like strangers in this setting. It was unsettling. We were all anxious to board the next flight home.

My family wasn’t destitute. My parents earned a reasonable income that allowed us a comfortable lifestyle, albeit devoid of luxuries. But I was aware of the hard work they put in to provide for us. Witnessing my grandfather’s ostentatious wealth felt like a blatant affront.

I graduated from a modest city college, majoring in business, a decision influenced by my grandfather via Frank. Despite my dedication and efforts, all I had to show for it was a degree that held little value in the struggling economy. The best employment I managed to secure was a dreary call center job.

I barely scraped by, living paycheck to paycheck.

As my family and the assorted guests retired for the night, I found myself further delving into the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion.

Suddenly, a soft echo of footsteps resonated through the dimly lit passageway.

“Who’s there?” I called out into the shadowy depth.

“Just me, kiddo,” came the comforting reply, as Frank gradually materialized from the semi-darkness.

“Hey, Frank,” I greeted him, “This place is colossal.”

“Indeed it is,” he responded, his laugh bouncing off the stone walls, “It took me an age to navigate it.”

“No surprise there,” I replied.

“Actually, I was seeking you out,” Frank said, his hand resting on an antiquated wooden box he carried.

“Really?” I replied, my curiosity piqued, trying to decipher his intention.

“A fortune from my grandfather, perhaps?” I pondered internally, my heart pounding slightly faster at the tantalizing prospect.

“Yes,” Frank confirmed, “I have something for you. According to your grandfather, it was his most cherished possession.”

“Oh?” I responded, my tone revealing a blend of gratitude and puzzlement.

“He explicitly wanted me to personally deliver it to you,” Frank elaborated, “He held immense pride in you, you know.”

“He had a strange way of showing it...” I replied softly, wary of appearing ungrateful.

“He was aware of that,” Frank added gently, “It was among his deepest regrets.”

“Well, at least he acknowledged it...” I muttered.

A flicker of sadness passed over Frank’s face, his empathy palpable.

“Here,” he offered, extending the old wooden box towards me, “Accept this. I believe there’s a note inside as well.”

“Thanks, Frank,” I replied gratefully, “And thank you for everything else, by the way.”

“It’s truly my pleasure,” Frank reciprocated warmly, “Well, it’s been an exceptionally long day, and I think I’m going to turn in for the night...”

“Sounds like a plan, Frank,” I said, embracing him in a farewell hug.

“Have a good night, John,” he responded.

“You too, Frank,” I returned, releasing him from the hug, “Oh, by the way, could you remind me how to get back to my room?”

Chuckling, Frank directed me down the hallway, “Two rights and a left.”

“Thanks,” I replied, watching as Frank slowly retreated back into the shadowy corridor, mirroring his entrance.

As I navigated my way back to my suite, I idly shook the wooden box in my hands, trying to guess its contents.

The suite that had been allocated to me was more spacious than my entire apartment - and my neighbor’s, for that matter.

The silence within the suite was deep and pronounced. No neighboring rooms were occupied, and the only sound that filled the silence was the quiet hum of the room’s heating system.

I placed the box on a desk, then moved towards the sofa adjacent to the bed, pulling my iPad out from my bag and placing it on the coffee table.

Truth be told, I was feeling a bit pent up. Like any other man, I had a robust libido that I, and most of my past girlfriends, had a hard time keeping up with.

After slipping out of my shoes, sliding off my pants, and shedding my suit jacket, I made myself comfortable on the sofa. I picked up the iPad, intending to visit my go-to adult entertainment site for some relief.

Not many were privy to the fact that I had a penchant for more intense, fringe aspects of sexual pleasure. I enjoyed a rougher side of intimacy, which likely explained why most of my relationships fizzled out within a few months. There were certain kinks and fetishes that I had yet to fully explore, primarily because I hadn’t found a willing and understanding partner.

The possibilities were many and intriguing: BDSM, aggressive play, domination, and even consensual non-consent fantasies barely scratched the surface.

In the privacy of my own space, I enjoyed fantasizing about control and dominance, themes that gave me intense satisfaction. The frequency of my actual intimate encounters left much to be desired, so my iPad had become my steadfast companion in exploring these depths.

Venturing onto one of my favorite sites, I began browsing the available videos. After perusing a few pages and conducting several searches, I finally found a video that piqued my interest. Getting comfortable, I let my hand wander under my boxers as I watched an assertive man demonstrating his dominance over a willing partner. She was completely submissive, yielding herself to his needs. The raw display of desire was the kind of scenario that stirred my interest, a fantasy waiting to be explored.

A deep groan of satisfaction left my lips as I watched the video progress, my hand working furiously over my hard shaft, “Yeah, that’s it ... take that fucking cock...”

I closed my eyes, immersing myself in the lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh, the labored gasps for air, and in my mind, I swapped places with the man in the video.

My cock, large and commanding, exerting control over the willing woman beneath me.

In the space of just a few more seconds, my climax arrived, my load spilling across my chest and staining my shirt with my release. I breathed deeply, savoring the afterglow of orgasm, before reluctantly blinking my eyes open.

Discarding my iPad onto the coffee table, I peeled myself off the couch, unbuttoning my soiled shirt and tossing it carelessly onto the pile of my discarded pants on the floor.

I moved back towards the desk where I had left the wooden box Frank had given me. Sitting down in the chair, I turned the box over in my hands. It was ancient. The wood was so old, it looked like it had fossilized. Sliding off the top, I opened it carefully to reveal a tightly rolled piece of parchment, along with a small, tarnished silver oil lamp, barely larger than my palm.

I placed the lamp on the desk and unrolled the note.

John, it began, If you’re reading this, it means I’m no longer with us. Inside this box is a cherished possession that helped me cope with your grandmother’s passing, and shaped me into the man I became. We were able to achieve great things, and my wish is for you to continue in my footsteps. I deeply regret not being there for you and the rest of our family. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. I am incredibly proud of the man you’ve grown into. All my love, Grandfather.

“She? We?” I muttered, bemused and somewhat cynical. I could feel a sarcastic laugh bubbling up from my throat. “The man I’ve become? Seriously? You didn’t even fucking know me.”

That person, the one my grandfather saw, was a part of my past, a version of me that had long since evolved, with no desire to regress back to that stage.

Nonchalantly, I discarded the note, reaching for my discarded, cum-soaked shirt. I used it to wipe away the years of tarnish from the small oil lamp, eager to decipher the engravings etched onto its surface.

As I worked, an unusual warmth began to seep from the lamp into my palm. It was subtle, barely noticeable, until the lamp started to vibrate, a humming pulse emanating from its core.

Taken aback, I murmured, “Well, that’s fucking bizarre,” and promptly dropped the lamp back onto the desk.

I watched the lamp quizzically. It shook sporadically, like an object possessed, skidding across the desk’s surface. I recoiled, stumbling over the leg of the desk, my heart racing in my chest.

My disbelief grew as a nebulous wisp of cobalt blue smoke started to spiral upwards from the spout of the lamp.

“This can’t be happening, this can’t be fucking happening,” I repeated, my voice shaky as the smoke began to coalesce into a tangible form right before my eyes. As the blue mist swirled and twirled, it started taking on the outline of a small, petite woman.

As the last tendrils of the blue mist evaporated, the female figure standing a few feet ahead of me materialized fully. I was frozen in place, eyes wide, my words stuck in my throat, standing there in nothing but my boxers.

She was diminutive, just under five feet tall by my estimation, with a lithe body that reminded me of an acrobatic gymnast. Her face was radiant, skin as smooth and flawless as a porcelain doll’s. Her eyes were a striking blue that mirrored the shade of her gown, her long blonde hair cascading down to graze the top of her pert, grapefruit-sized breasts.

Her gown was a second skin, perfectly outlining the sinuous curves of her petite frame.

Her gaze was fixed on mine, a silent, intense connection that neither of us broke. She didn’t look a day over twenty.

“Who ... who the hell are you?” My voice wavered, my body still riveted in place by the shock.

“Those who came before you knew me as Gene,” she said gently, her lips curling into a warm, comforting smile. “But you, you can call me whatever you wish.”

“O-okay,” I stammered, trying to reorient myself within this new reality.

“I see a reflection of your grandfather in you, John,” she commented, her gaze soft.

“How do you know my name?” I asked, the words from my grandfather’s note dancing in my mind.

“Your grandfather often spoke fondly of you,” she responded with an angelic serenity, “His final wish was for me to be entrusted to you.”

“What ... what are you?” I managed to blurt out, my voice trembling.

“I am a genie, passed down from grandfather to grandson over countless generations. From one honorable, virtuous soul to the next, along a lineage of great philanthropists,” she explained. “Together, my masters and I have tirelessly worked to promote and sustain goodness in the world.”

“You’re a freaking genie!” I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place.

“Yes,” she confirmed, her tone solemn. “I am a genie, and now I am yours, bound to you for the coming century.”

Her words echoed in my head, a whirlwind of thoughts and questions tumbling over each other. “So it’s not just three wishes? You’re mine for an entire century? How old was my grandfather?”

“Your curiosity mirrors your grandfather’s,” she said, her smile twinkling with a suppressed giggle. “No, I am not the genie of Aladdin fame, I don’t know how that misconception started amongst humans. Yes, I am bound to you for a century, tasked with ensuring your protection, prolonging your youth and vitality. Your grandfather lived to be 125 years old. I can only decelerate your aging; the human lifespan is ultimately limited.”

“Are there others? Other genies? And what are the rules?” I fired off, my mind racing at a hundred miles an hour.

“I have many brethren, although many have been lost to time, chained to selfish masters who wished to keep their genies hidden forever. I’ve been fortunate, I’ve always served men of honor and integrity,” she responded, her eyes alight with a hopeful, innocent glow. “As for the rules, I cannot end a human life or grant wishes that drastically alter the world. You can’t simply wish for a better world. I can only aid in small ways. But together, we can create a ripple effect, our actions can collectively bring about significant change.”

As my mind spiraled in a vortex of thoughts, a familiar, more primal urge started to bubble within me, presenting a tantalizing array of possibilities. “So you’ll grant every single one of my wishes? For the entirety of my life?” I asked, a tantalizing thrill coursing through my veins, making my arousal evident in my shorts.

Her luminous azure eyes met mine, an innocent smile played on her lips as she replied, “Yes, I am yours. You are my master, I am bound to you. Nothing can sever our bond.”

“Meaning,” I probed further, “you have to comply with every command I give?”

“If that is your desire,” the genie responded, “then yes.”

An unfamiliar feeling crept upon the genie. She was accustomed to serving altruistic masters. That was her world, her comfort zone. She had no precedent of dealing with a master of a different temperament. She was oblivious to the red flags, uncertain what to look for. All she knew was a lingering sense of unease, whispering to her that something was amiss. She had never heard the phrase, “Do you have to do everything I ask of you?” before.

“Perfect,” I replied, a devilish grin creeping onto my face.

“Your grandfather bequeathed some plans he had for global endeavors, with the hope you’d continue them,” the genie mentioned earnestly. “Would you like to hear about them?”

“No,” I said decisively, a smirk playing on my lips, “I have my own ideas.”

“How delightful!” she exclaimed, failing to decipher my underlying intent.

Seeing her naive excitement, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration. I fucking owned a genie. A being who was bound to obey my every command. I had an enslaved servant at my disposal.

The silence was broken by the genie. “How would you like me to address you?”

“For now,” I said, “you will call me Master.”

A vacant expression flickered across the genie’s face. She had never been asked to refer to her master as such. Shrugging off her apprehension, she replied, “As you wish, Master.”

Unbeknownst to the genie, with her gaze locked onto mine, my arousal was evident, straining against the fabric of my boxers.

“Genie,” I spoke in a demanding tone, a smirk playing on my lips, “I want you to pleasure me, right now.”

The genie looked taken aback. “Is ... is that your wish, Master?” she asked with visible hesitation.

Taking hold of her slender shoulders, my eyes roamed up and down her flawless form, my excitement throbbing and so close to her. “Yes,” I answered, exerting a gentle pressure downwards on her shoulders, “And don’t ever make me repeat myself again!”

As the genie gracefully descended to her knees, my left hand remained stationed on her shoulder, while the right found its way to the back of her neck, cradling her head.

The warmth of her mouth was an intoxicating sensation. Her lips glided down my shaft with practiced ease, her tongue tracing a path of ecstasy across my length, lighting up every nerve from the head of my manhood to the base.

The sheer intensity of the experience had me teetering on the edge, struggling to restrain my impending climax.

My fingers wound through her silky golden hair, my hand now resting at the base of her skull, the thrill of dominance coursing through my veins.

“Oh fuuuuuck yes,” I groaned, my self-control wavering as the pleasure threatened to consume me.

Anticipating the culmination of my pleasure, I pressed her head further onto my pulsating length, the tip sliding deeper, nestling in the tight warmth of her throat.

In my state of heightened arousal, I pulled back slightly only to thrust myself back into the inviting warmth of her mouth, asserting an intensity I had never unleashed before.

With my arousal at its peak, I lost control. A potent wave of release rushed through me, my seed flowing into her accepting throat.

As I withdrew from her mouth, a string of my essence and her saliva connected us momentarily before breaking, marking a primal claim over my newly found possession. I took a step back, eyeing her with a victorious smirk.

Breaking eye contact for the first time, her gaze lowered to the floor.

“Look up,” I commanded, taking a step toward her.

Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting mine once again, revealing an underlying sense of unease.

“We’re going to have quite a wild ride together,” I said, extending a hand to help her rise.

“I ... I’m sorry, Master,” she stammered, a hint of melancholy in her voice as she accepted my offered hand, “I ... I wasn’t prepared for your ... assertiveness. You caught me off guard.”

“And you’re telling me my grandfather didn’t ravage you the moment he laid eyes on you?” I queried, genuinely puzzled.

“N-no...” she stammered, “It was quite the opposite ... Our bond matured over years and years before he invited me into his bed.”

“Damn, what took him so long?” I couldn’t help but wonder.

“All my previous masters followed the same approach as your grandfather ... They all...” She continued, her voice barely a whisper.

Interrupting her mid-sentence, I snapped, “Well, I’m not like my fucking grandfather, or any of your past masters. I’m a new breed.”

Brimming with anticipation to explore the uncharted territories with my newfound possession, I was eager to put her abilities to the test.

“Do I have to fucking recite ‘I wish’ before each command?” I inquired, irritated by the mere thought of such tedious formality.

“No need, Master,” she answered, her once radiant glow diminishing even more with each passing moment.

“Perfect. Then make this entire wall a mirror,” I commanded, gesturing toward the wall at the foot of the bed.

With a quick nod from the genie, the once matte, light-red wall morphed into a reflective surface instantly.

Approaching the mirror, I surveyed my own reflection. I was by no means obese, but there was definitely room for improvement. All my attempts at sculpting a chiseled physique had been fruitless till now, but who needed a gym when you have a freaking genie?

“Transform my body. Make it appear as if I’ve endured three hours of strenuous workouts, combining cardio and weights, every day for the past year,” I instructed, watching my current physique, excited to witness the transformation.

“As you wish, Master,” she conceded with a nod.

The sensation that ripped through my body as I watched the transformation in the mirror was inexplicable. Far from painful, it was a surprisingly delightful experience. I could literally feel the unwanted fat melting away, muscles toning up, and skin tightening simultaneously.

“Not bad,” I commented, admiring my newly minted physique in the mirror.

Stripping off my boxers, my gaze then turned to the one thing that had to be enhanced next.

“Pay attention,” I instructed the genie, formulating the desired specifications in my mind. “When flaccid, my cock should measure 6” long and one and a half inches thick. When erect, extend it to 8” in length and two and a half inches in thickness. And increase the size of my balls and sac threefold.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she simply responded, “Yes, Master.”

Watching my flaccid member expand was a spectacle that spurred my imagination, and soon I was standing at full mast.

“Finally,” I continued, in awe of my upgraded manhood, “enhance my stamina, and give me the power to decide when I climax.”

She nodded once again, affirming, “As you wish, Master.”

Now fully transformed, I turned to face her, “So, what’s your verdict?”

“I-its significantly larger than before,” she replied, her tone hinting at unease.

“Good enough for now,” I retorted. “I suppose you are not a virgin, are you?”

“Actually, I am, Master,” she confessed. “Each time a new master summons me from the lamp, my physical body is recreated anew.”

“I see,” I acknowledged, intrigued. “So, can you alter your own physical form?”

“Yes, Master,” she confirmed.

“Excellent,” I continued, a wicked idea taking shape in my mind, “I want all of your openings to accommodate my enlarged member comfortably.”

“Thank you for considering my comfort, Master,” she responded, a smile tugging at her lips for the first time in a while. “It is done.”

“Great,” I rejoiced, “Now, can you experience physical sensations like a normal woman?”

“Yes, Master,” the genie affirmed, “I do.”

“Alright,” I declared, nodding in approval.

The genie, standing in front of me, was a sight to behold. I moved around her, taking in her youthful allure, a stunning vision of beauty and desire.

“Undress,” I ordered, my voice firm. “Now.”

As I continued my circumspect walk around her, she began to remove her garments, the ethereal glow of her pristine skin coming to light with each passing moment.

With a graceful motion, she peeled off her gauzy gown, unveiling her perfectly proportioned breasts. They were like two impeccable, gravity-defying orbs, adorned with cherry-red peaks that stood at attention.

As she slid her gown down past her hips, I was pleasantly surprised to see her lower body as smooth and hairless as a pearl.

Stepping out of the fallen fabric, she stood there, gloriously naked, her flawless figure presented for my perusal.

Eventually, I stopped my circuitous walk in front of her. My hands found their way to her shoulders, then gradually traced the curve of her back, coming to rest on her pert buttocks, appreciating the firm, smooth texture.

Her eyes met mine, sparking a wild fire of desire. My hands journeyed upwards from her firm ass, skimming her sides, until they cupped her breasts, which were just as firm and inviting.

My newly enhanced member throbbed with a ferocity it had never known before, pressing insistently against her belly.

My fingers explored the pliant flesh of her breasts, but found them slightly wanting. “These are a tad too small for my liking,” I commented, my hands seeking more to hold. “Make them larger.”

“Yes, Master,” she obediently responded.

As my hands cupped her breasts, I could feel them gently growing, their firmness undiminished.

After a few more moments, when they had achieved a size that filled my hands satisfactorily, I declared, “Perfect.” I squeezed them, delighting in the sensation of her soft skin spilling slightly through my fingers.

My gaze lowered to meet hers as my hands journeyed back down her silky-smooth skin, finding her derriere once more. Pulling her closer, my arousal was trapped between us, its presence undeniable.

“Now,” I directed, locking eyes with her, “make yourself more aroused and sensitive than ever before.”

“As you wish, Master,” she responded, a rush of arousal visibly coursing through her. Her nipples hardened instantly, pressing into my chest.

My grip tightened on her buttocks, and in a swift move, I lifted her off the floor. Carrying her across the room, I placed her on the bed with a gentle toss.

She laid there on her back, vulnerable and inviting. I grabbed her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed, parting her extremely flexible legs wide and propping her feet against the bedposts.

My thickened arousal rested over her sex, nestled against her belly. I traced its length across her glistening folds, visually savoring her body’s reaction to the touch.

Guiding my hand to her heated core, I delicately teased her clit with my thumb.

Lowering myself to my knees for a closer view, my other hand parted her delicate folds, revealing her untouched entrance.

My thumb entered her tight heat, eliciting a moan from her that was equal parts pleasure and discomfort.

“Fuck, that’s tight,” I muttered, feeling her walls clench around my thumb, “hope you’re ready for more...”