[Permission is granted to post this story on other websites, as long as it remains unedited, and all parts, including my nom-de-plume, my spelling and grammar mistakes, and these notes, are included. Permission is also granted to utilize the plot device of the wish-granting website "genie.com" in stories of your own device.]

It was a dark and, thankfully, not-so-stormy night. The forecast was for scattered showers without a spark of lightning for a hundred miles in every direction. He'd just cleared his browser history and temporary internet files to keep his mom from finding out where he'd been, but if she got onto his computer and found them both blank, she'd get suspicious. So, Hugo had typed "www ... com" into his address bar, used the "cut" command, and was repeatedly pasting the characters and typing in random words and phrases between the dots. He had a pretty fast connection (for dial-up anyway), so the pages loaded up quickly, and his pop-up blocker kept any unwanted windows from cluttering up his screen. When he typed in "genie," he stopped and stared.

"What the..." he said, gaping like a codfish at the absurd contents of his monitor.

"Welcome to GENIE.COM, the Wish-Granting Website!" it said, simply. This was followed by a brief Terms of Service paragraph detailing the rules, and a textbox at the bottom, surrounded by a multi-part graphic of a genie with his smoky tail.

"There's gotta be a punchline in here somewhere." he muttered. He scanned the page three times, but nothing stood out, really.

<blockquote>All text entered into the Wish Engine must be in the form of a Wish: A single sentence beginning with the words "I Wish" and ending in a period.

The User (hereafter "You") agree not to attempt to discover by any means known or unknown the source code of the Wish Engine(TM).

You agree to recognize and respect the intellectual property rights of the Creator and not attempt to circumvent the Wish Engine(TM)'s prohibition against wishing for any of the following powers: Life and death, creation from void, judgment of souls and alterations to the fundamental laws of the universe.

You are only allowed to submit one Wish per standard 24-hour day.

You will not attempt to persuade (through bribery, coercion, nuisance or other means) any person to visit this site and make a Wish on your behalf.

You agree not to hold Genie.com, its parents, subsidiaries and affiliate, liable for any damages resulting from poor wording of Wishes.</blockquote>

"Maybe it's the punchline to a joke posted somewhere else." Hugo thought, remembering a graphic he'd seen somewhere about what would happen if companies lost too much revenue to pop-up blockers. Except for the usual smudges inherent in the JPEG format, it looked just like a real Windows error message. He figured, what the hell, and clicked inside the text-box, watching the cursor blink, wondering what to wish for. If the site was to be properly tested (or debunked), he had to wish for something that wouldn't happen by accident, but wouldn't get him thrown in prison.

His gaze wandered as he thought, and when it fell on the Penthouse magazine half-hidden under his mattress, he glanced immediately at the door to make sure it was still locked, and stuffed it back in place. He remembered some of the stories he'd read in the letters section. Since getting his first car (which so far was his only car, and a little the worse for wear), he had pulled over to assist numerous vans, minibuses and so on in distress, but so far none of them contained the kinky nudist supermodel twins promised in the magazine's pages or any sort of horny, grateful female. His real problem was in his appearance. The majority of his 5'11" height was leg and he had arms to match. His curly hair, less-than-chiseled features and bone-thin body (despite having the appetite of a Saiyan in training) made him look as though someone had stretched Screech on the rack. With a package like that, no one cared that his other "package" contained an 8-inch trouser snake. If anyone deserved to be cured of terminal virginity, he thought, it's me. It took him a false starts to get the wish worded to his satisfaction. When he finally clicked "Submit," his entry looked something like this:

"I wish to be sexually irresistible to attractive females who are not related to me."

The connection dawdled for a second, and then he was taken to a new page that thanked him for his wish and told him he would be allowed to make another in 24 hours.

"Hugo! You've got school tomorrow! Get your ass to bed!" shouted his mother. Grumbling to himself, he shut down his computer, undressed and went to bed. When he woke up the next morning, he went to the mirror and looked at himself, but could discover no physical changes. Sighing, he dressed and got ready for another long, tedious day at school.

Candace was hanging out by the steps when she noticed Hugo Turner's jalopy rolling into the parking lot. Nobody really said "jalopy" anymore, but if she said "rolling pile of shit," she'd get suspended again. It wasn't that she really liked school, or would mind a few days off, but they'd make her send in her assignments on time via her mother anyway, AND deduct thirty points right off the top of all of them before she even made her first mistake.

"Holy moly!" her friend Sandra gasped. This was her first time viewing Turner's car. The girl switched into an Obi-Wan voice. "It's more Bondo now than car, twisted and evil!" The girls laughed. "I gotta go. Tell your boyfriend 'hi' for me if he lets you say anything before he puts his dick in your mouth."

Candace frowned at Sandra's back as the girl headed for the other side of the campus. Sure, Peter was more than a little pushy, but that was Candace's business, not Sandra's. She turned away, and found herself staring open-mouthed at Hugo in undisguised lust.

It was crazy. Physically, he was nothing like the guys she usually lusted after. Mentally, too, he was, well, a freak. He knew more about computers than she'd ever cared to learn about any of the boy bands whose concerts she attended along with hundreds if not thousands of other shrieking girls. It just wasn't healthy to care THAT much about any single subject. It was crazy. But Candace could no more resist it than she could gravity. She felt herself being drawn inexorably toward Hugo, every inch of additional proximity increasing her sexual desire exponentially.

I want his babies! shouted a primal part of herself, drowning out the logical part of her mind with its intensity. It wasn't an actual thought, more of a visceral, animal demand. Hijacked by her own body, she ran toward him, pouncing. He cried out in terror and confusion as she landed on top of him, and started pulling off her shirt. She felt him stiffen underneath her as the rest of her clothes came off. Good! her animal-brain remarked (again, not words; her mental processes were reduced to positive and negative, a binary code of yes and no, pleasure and pain, reward and punishment). To have sex was pleasure, to be without, pain. She tugged insistently at his pants until the snap came undone and the zipper was forced downward by the motion. His boxers fared little better than wrapping paper on Christmas morning at the children's home. The sight of eight inches of sex meat sticking up in the air made a pleasurable shiver run down Candace's spine. She maneuvered herself into position and slid down on the pole. It felt good going in. Her hips knew the rhythm, and her mate was in no position to struggle. The eruption of his semen inside her set off fireworks behind her eyelids. She screamed a carnal scream as she shuddered through her release.

Strong hands pulled her off him. She gave voice to her body's cry of protest at the forced separation. She was carried away and put in a bare room and kept there while her mental faculties slowly reasserted themselves.

What had she done? She despised everything Hugo Turner stood for, everything he WAS, and yet she had practically raped him in the parking lot.

Not practically, she realized. I raped him within an inch of his life. Why? I have a boyfriend. Okay, his thing isn't as long or thick as Hugo's... (at that, she tried but failed to suppress a moan of renewing desire) ... but I'm supposed to be HIS girlfriend. Peter's, not Hugo's. Peter. Hugo's Peter. Hugo's dick. Dong, schlong, cock, meat, pecker, cum-hose...

"Stop it!" she shouted, slapping herself. The sting helped, if only briefly. What's making me act like this? I ... I'm like an animal, an animal in heat. Pheromones? Did he buy pheromones online, like from the spam emails they send me because they don't know I'm a chick? Whatever it is, it's working. She felt a mixture of relief and profound sadness, knowing that Hugo's big eight-inch penis was nowhere near her. She moaned, curling up in a corner and hugging herself. She no longer cared what had been done to her. She was like a junkie in withdrawal, her body's need drowning out everything but thoughts of how to get her next fix.

"Oh, God." she whispered, realizing where her thoughts were going. From everything she'd learned in Health class, she was showing all the signs of a classic addiction. How strong was it? Could she break it with therapy? Did she even want to? Could she even want to? No, she couldn't. She'd had the best orgasm of her life. She needed to feel that again.

She would feel that again.

Principal Charms sat behind his heavy metal-and-faux-wood desk, his glasses sitting on top of his bald head, squeezing the tear ducts in obvious distress. Very little about the incident in the parking lot fit. Candace was one of the Popular Girls, with a long history of teasing and harassing those less popular than herself. There was nothing, however, in the girl's psychological profile (painstakingly assembled by a series of school counselors in the district) to ever presage the kind of sexual depravity he'd witnessed. He'd pulled the girl off of young Mr. Turner, and she'd fought like a bobcat being separated from its kill. The scratches on his face, chest and arms still burned under the bandages.

He'd left Turner in the nurse's office, with a replacement pair of undergarments. Fortunately, there wasn't much damage to the blue jeans, other than being soaked by vaginal secretions. He hadn't even protested as the police had swabbed him in several places to test for artificial pheromones. For his part, Hugo had seemed more confused than anything. Then again, you never could tell with emotional trauma, at least not without a degree in psychoanalysis.

Hugo lay on the cot in the nurse's office, thinking about what had happened with Candace, and about his wish. Is this from my wish? he wondered. Looks like I've got a few things to learn about wishing. Good thing it didn't work on my mom, but that's probably because I specifically told the computer to make the effect happen to women who AREN'T related to me.

But what an effect! Candace couldn't get enough. She'd been on him like white on rice, and from the look in her eyes, there wasn't a thought in her head except fucking him until one or both of them were dead. It was kind of scary, and the worst part was he'd have to wait until around midnight to undo it. He looked at the clock. 9:21 am.

"Hello, Hugo." chimed the nurse from the entrance. "I wanted to see how you were doing." Despite himself, Hugo checked her out. She was dressed in a stereotypical white nurse's uniform which managed to show off her curves without showing any skin other than her arms, neck and head. "I ... ohh..." That last part came out as a kind of moan. She pulled his pants and the replacement boxers off him. Her face filled with a smoky expression of lust, and her eyes took on that wall-eyed look he'd seen in Candace.

"Uh-oh." he muttered as she hurriedly threw off her uniform, except for her nurse's cap, stockings, shoes and stethoscope. Despite himself, he found himself growing erect as the clothing flew randomly around the little office. Then, she straddled him, lowering her wet pussy onto his stiff cock. She pinned his hands up over his head as she began to ride him in a mindless frenzy. Animal grunts and moans were all that came out of the nurse's mouth. She had seven orgasms, and he had three before the principal showed up.

"Nurse Adams!" the man shouted. He stepped in and peeled her off of him. She fought, still lost in animal carnality, but the principal had been a wrestler in his youth, and knew some good holds, in addition to still having the strength needed to separate and/or subdue a pair of jocks fighting over a girl. Hugo crawled off the cot and curled up in a corner, behind the file cabinet. It took him a few minutes to remember to wipe up and put his pants back on.

Principal Charms put the nurse in a bare holding room next door to Candace's, closed it and locked it. Just like Candace before her, she started banging on the door like an animal in a trap. If she continued to follow the pattern (if pattern it was), it would take upwards of ten minutes for her to start using words again, and another five before she would stop demanding release. He went back to his own office and checked the closed-circuit feeds from the four holding rooms. Candace was curled up in a corner. Nurse Adams was still throwing herself at the door. It wouldn't do her any good. The contractors who had donated the doors for the holding rooms had tested them against professional football players. A nurse of diminutive stature such as she would have no chance of opening it by force.

The Principal frowned at the screen. Meredith Adams was a professional, twenty-eight years old, not to mention happily married to a great guy with whom she had a seven-year-old daughter and a three-year-old son. Unless Hugo was prosecuted, and the D.A. could prove coercion, all of that was going in the toilet. It wasn't a situation Charms was happy with. He rose from his chair and headed for the nurse's office. Maybe, just maybe, he could get Hugo to admit to the source of his "woman troubles," and then the D.A. would accept his testimony in a case against that source in return for a lesser charge. He walked down the little interior hall of the office suite and saw a female student approaching the door, clutching her stomach.

"The nurse is ... indisposed at the moment." he told her, making shooing motions with both hands. "You'll have to call home or stick it out." He didn't like having to do that, but it was a violation of policy for anyone except the school nurse to dispense so much as an aspirin on school property. He walked into the nurse's office. Hugo was still crouched in the corner, as if afraid another female might walk in and repeat the performances from before.