I was in a great mood. My boyfriend Ron’d been coming over every night, ripping my clothes off and fucking my brains out. And I hit the jackpot at a garage sale this morning. I was just passing by, and there it was. A bottle, dirty and old, for only sixty cents. But its shape was strangely elegant, not like anything manufactured. It tapered gradually to a long slender neck, with a slight flare of a rim, capped with something. Below, it swelled into a bulge before curving to a narrow waist, then swelled again into the larger main body, finally curving into a small flat concave base.
As soon as I was back in my apartment, I ripped open the newspaper wrapping and took the bottle to the kitchen sink. With running water and just a little dishwashing solution, years of grim came off. It turned out to be of cloudy glass with a slight bluish tint. Furthermore, the surface was inlaid with yellowish, whitish and reddish metal, forming intricate patterns like a net stretched over the bottle. It was probably brass and tin and copper, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were gold and silver.
Inside, it seemed to be filled with something fluffy like the downiest feathers that seems to shift slowly as I shook it. The cap was sealed by a sheet of softish metal, wrapping around the rim, with a ring of wire twisted tight just below the rim. I shook the bottle again, and it made no sound, and I couldn’t feel anything inside. It was definitely not wine or a liquid or solid objects. It felt empty, yet I could see things moving slowly inside.
I tried to pry open the seal, but no such luck. As I ran my fingers over the covered opening, I could feel slight impressions in the cover, no doubt worn down by time. The I remembered that Ron had left his toolbox when he helped fix some of my picture hangings, unable to stand up to our rocking sessions. Opening it, I fished out a large pliers and untwisted the wire tie and unwrapped the covering.
Suddenly, bluish smoke puffed out of the opening. I quickly but carefully put the bottle on the floor and backed away a few steps. The cloud of smoke kept coming until it filled half the kitchen. Then the smoke coalesced until the form of a beautiful young woman stood in front of me, directly above the bottle.
She was wearing a blue costume with puffy transparent long sleeves and pant legs. On top, she had an open dark blue vest that highlighted rather than concealed her firm, shapely breasts. Under the vest, the costume was low cut, showing ample cleavage. Her narrow waist was set off by a wide bejeweled belt, and below that, a tight fitting dark triangle from which swelled the transparent pants, showing off shapely legs down to dark narrow ankle cuffs and dark blue slippers with a long narrow tip. Her skin was fair, her eyes blue, and her hair dark, done in an exotic fashion with blue ribbons and jewels.
“For releasing me from my imprisonment in the bottle,” she said formally, “I shall fulfill for you three wishes.”
“You, you’re a genie?” I stammered. “Why, why were you imprisoned in the bottle?”
“I am of a lusty race of genies. Our one and only purpose is to bring out and satisfy the sensual nature of men. But that did not conform to the appearance the Almighty expected His people to present, so the prophet Solomon devised these devious devices to catch and imprison and punish us, for we are immortal. Only the seal of His prophet keep us from the mortal world. He hunted us down, every one of our race.”
“King Solomon? But that’s so long ago.”
“Long enough for the world to change. I know all about this world as soon as I came into it. We would do well in this world, but the bottles still bind us. The power that build those contraptions is not diminished by time. I am only free to reward you with your wishes.”
“So I can wish for anything?”
“Anything your heart desires in three wishes.”
“I wish—” and here I recalled catching Ron eying other women’s chests, the few times we went out, though mine is not insubstantial, “I wish for bigger breasts.”
“Your wish is my command.”
And suddenly I felt my breasts grow and burst out of my bras and blouse. When it finally stopped, they were huge and heavy, weighing down on my chest, round and firm but sagging because of their size and weight. They were almost the size of bowling balls, and felt like them.
“But—I—”
“You wished for bigger breasts.”
“I, I wish they were back to normal—my breasts were back to exactly the way they are this morning,” I added just to be safe.
“Your wish is my command,” and a great weight is lifted from my chest, and I doubled checked that they are all right.
One wish left. You got to be careful. The genie doesn’t really give you what you really want. Do I ask for money? No, money can’t really buy a great body, all natural like hers. Oh, that’s a great body. Even I found it attractive, and I’m not into girls. Really attractive. It oozed sexuality. Firm in all the right places, slender yet curveous. And it’s that way for centuries. I could just eat it up. Wait a minute. Oh yes—
“I wish I have your body.”
“Your wish is my command.”
An even stranger tingle went through my body, my whole body, and I’m, I’m looking at myself, holding the bottle. Looking down, yes, I had the body now. Clearly, as I’m naked. Seemed the body did not come with the costume. Feeling it with my hands, yes, firm and soft, smooth and slender, just as I had imagined it to would feel in my hands. And it was so sensitive. I felt I could come just by the right touches. I couldn’t wait for Ron tonight.
She must have switched our bodies for some reason. Well, didn’t hurt. My body—my old body was nice enough—Ron certainly thought so—but this one, there was nothing compared to it. Yes, Ron would definitely love it. I wonder how I’m going to break it to him—
“So ends the granting of the three wishes,” the genie said formally, tilting the bottle towards me, and for one instance, I seemed to see into its fathomless depth.
Then blue smoke again bellowed out, right into my face, surrounding me until I saw nothing but a blue haze.
With a strange feeling, the blue fog dissipated, but everything was still blue—and huge! It couldn’t be. I’m in the bottle! I’m in the bottle! Looking up, I could just see the last circle of white light eclipsing as the seal was draped over the opening, and then it was gone.
I seemed to be in a peculiar position. My arms were stretched straight up over my head, palms together, my knees bent to the left side. No, it was one of those classic positions in those oriental dances, but I didn’t recall getting into that pose.
I tried to lower my arms, but my elbows immediately bumped into the sides of the bottle. I couldn’t move my shoulders either. It must be that long neck, perfectly sheaving my up-stretched arms, tapering below my elbows around my head and shoulders.
I couldn’t straighten my legs either, not because of the bottleneck above, but because my now so narrow waist just fit within the narrow waist of the bottle. In fact, I couldn’t move my body up or down, held by the curves of our waists. Below, there wasn’t enough room for my legs, forcing my knees bent, now to one side, now to the other side, now splayed open.
If I hold still, I don’t touch the bottle at all, yet any movement demonstrated how the bottle holds me perfectly in position. A devious prison indeed. She’ll never let me out, I’m sure, now that I’m trapped instead of her. Was she hardened by her harsh imprisonment, or was she imprisoned in part because of her harshness?
Then the world shook. The-genie-in-my-body shook the bottle and placed it on the shelf, my former shelf in my former living room. And Ron was going to come over tonight—he’ll never notice—she wouldn’t even have to give explanations for a new body. She’ll do it with my Ron, on my couch, on my coffee table, as we often did, right in front of me, so near, yet a world apart.
Something stirred in the bottle with the shaking. Fluffy white flakes coalesced out of thing are, whatever this bottle holds. Downy feather, I felt, lightly on my breasts, the insides of my thighs, one flowing gentle past my left nipple, another my nether lips, another my right nipple, another my clit. I tried to shake my breasts and hips, but that only made the feathers angry, and the bottle curved away from these critical regions out of reach. If only just a little pressure, oh, such soft tantalizing touches, not quite enough, for all eternity.
Devious punishment indeed.
THE END