Beachcombing after a storm, Fred Scofield finds a magical, jade and silver egg, the home of a beautiful, female djinn. Trying to impress – and seduce – her, Fred brags of his sexual prowess. The djinn challenges him to prove his claims, and, when he agrees to do so, Fred begins a journey through time, space, and his own past in a manner he could never have imagined. And plays a game of “Wits and Wishes” just as strange in its outcome.
This story was originally posted as a chapter of the antology-story,“Octet”, on FictionMania.
Djinn Game III
By Ellie Dauber © 2003
The beach was covered with litter from the storm. Fred Scofield muttered to himself as he walked along it. He'd found a long thin piece of driftwood that he was using for a walking stick, and every so often, he vented by taking a swing at something half-buried in the sand.
"Bad enough, Spring has to cancel at the last minute," he said. "I drive up, figuring I could find myself a playmate up here for the weekend, and that damn storm hits ten minutes after I get here."
Spring Harper was the woman Fred was currently seeing. She compensated for her mundane life as a stock analyst during the day by having a rather _imaginative_ sex life in her off-hours. Unfortunately, her boss had dumped a two-foot pile of paper on her desk at 3 PM on Friday and told her to have a full report on it for a meeting at 10 AM Monday morning.
Fred poked at a small, gray crab that hurriedly scuttled away. "If I wanted to sit alone eating cold pizza and listening to the rain, I could have stayed in the city." He was about to chase after the crab - - just to have _something_ to do, when he saw a bit of shiny metal lying there in the sand.
It was some kind of ornament, a green stone -- jade, perhaps -- and the size and shape of an egg, inside an ornate silver filigree. It looked very expensive. "Maybe this weekend won't be a total loss after all." There were patches of mud and sand stuck to the egg. Fred pulled out his shirttail and began to clean it.
The egg began to hum softly. A glow spread through it, pulsing to match the hum. "What the hell?" Fred dropped the egg in surprise. He stared at it as it lay in the sand, the hum getting louder.
Suddenly, a thin column of dark gray smoke began to rise from the egg. It formed into a vaguely human shape and began to grow lighter in color. At first, the smoke was turning blue, but it stopped and, instead, became a light shade of pink. Then, miraculously, the smoke compacted into a human figure.
A very _female_ figure.
Her hair was a sea of auburn, flowing in waves down to her waist. Her skin was the color of dark honey; her eyes, the black of a moonless night. Her face was pleasing, heart-shaped; her lips were full, pouting, and begging to be kissed. The rest of her was a mass of feminine curves. Her breasts were two great pillows that strained against a pale green halter. Her waist was narrow enough that a man might put his arms around it. His eyes were drawn at last to the curvature of her thighs, gateways to infinite pleasures hidden yet revealed in matching translucent harem pants and a small satin panty.
She stared at the man for a moment, then, in a voice like the tinkling of bells, she said, "I am... Jamala, oh, my master. For the freeing of this humble slave, you are granted three wishes."
Forget the wishes. Fred _wanted_ her. He wanted to see that hair spread out on a bed as he drove into her. He wanted to feel those lips around his maleness. He wanted to suckle at those breasts until he tasted their honeyed milk. He wanted... "I want to make love to you."
"Is that your first wish, Master?" Damn, she made it seem so mechanical.
"Ye... No! I want you to be with me because you want to, not because I ordered you to."
Jamala put a hand on her chin and seemed to be studying him. 'Well,' he thought. 'I'm not a bad looking guy, or so Spring tells me. I can still fit into the speedos I wore on the Rutgers swim team ten years ago. I can fill them out pretty good, too, if I do say so myself.'
She seemed to be reading his mind. Her eyes lingered at his crouch, and she smiled. Her tongue poked out and slid against her upper lip. "You are most handsome, Master, and mightily endowed, but it is not looks -- or size -- that make the lover; it is skill. I am of the Green Djinn and over 2700 years old. I have been with some of the greatest lovers known to your history. How can I know that you are to be counted among them?"
"I... I don't know." He grinned. "Why don't you just take a chance? I don't think you'll be disappointed."
Jamala had seemed to be no more that 5 foot 6, half a head shorted than him. In an instant, she _loomed_ 50 foot tall or more. Lightening seemed to crackle in the air around her. "No, my Master. You do not want to take the chance, for you would not enjoy my being _disappointed_." Her voice boomed down at him.
"I... I guess not. What do we do, them?"
She was suddenly normal sized again, smiling happily at him. "There is a way, Master. If you _wish_, I could cast you back through the years to relive your every sexual encounter. Our minds would be linked, so that I might experience your skills. In this way, I could know." She leered at him. "And know you also, Master, such an experience can be very _arousing_." She said that last word almost as a purr.
"All right. Do it." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "but only encounters with real women: no fantasizing, no jacking off with a Playboy when I was eleven, and _nothing_ Oedipal."
"Of course, my Master. You have only to make the wish."
"I wish it," he said firmly. He began to feel lightheaded. Everything went black, and he felt himself falling.
He landed with a thump.
It was his room in the house on Spruce Street in Middleburg, the one they'd lived in till he was fifteen. Sure enough, there was a 1987 Playboy calendar on the wall, right by the Farrah poster. There were books on the desk across from his bed, ninth grade English Literature, the top one said.
"She did it," he whispered, unsure what would happen next. Then he... giggled?
The door opened, and his 14-year old self walked in. Freddy, his younger self, was carrying a bottle of his parents' whiskey and two glasses. He was in his undershorts and socks. "Is this okay?"
"'S fine," Fred said. His voice was high and soft, a girl's voice. "I really shouldn't be doing this." Fred looked down at his body. He saw a pair of breasts -- 32-B, maybe -- in a white cotton bra. Below that were a narrow waist and a pair of rounded hips in a matching white panty. There was no bulge at the groin.
'Tammy Griggs,' he thought. 'I'm Tammy Griggs, and this is the day we both lost our virginity.' He panicked. 'Genie... Jamala... what's going on?'
'I am most certainly _not_ a mere genie,' said a voice in his mind. 'I am of the Green Djinn and worthy of respect. Your wish was that I know if you are worthy to be my bed partner. How can I learn this by seeing how _you_ felt during the act of sex? No, my Master, I can only learn by discovering how you made _your bedmates_ feel, and for me to learn this, you must experience it with them.' Fred thought that he heard a chuckle, then there was only a silence within his mind.
All thought stopped when Fred felt the burn of alcohol in his throat. The whiskey Freddy had poured settled in his stomach making a nice warm feeling. He felt Freddy's arm around his waist, pulling him close.
Their noses got in the way, and they fumbled with the kiss for a moment before Fred/Tammy felt Freddy's lips against his own. The kiss was gentle... sweet. He felt his arms rising up to encircle Freddy's neck. His breasts were warm, tingly. His crotch felt... warm, warm and... empty.
Freddy's fingers fumbled with his bra. 'Well, I get the hang of it eventually.' He felt his... Tammy's arms move behind him and unhook it. He smiled and let it fall from his body.
Freddy kissed him again, leaning forward. His/Tammy's body was pushed back onto the bed. He giggled as he fell and tried to move to a sexy position. Freddy was suddenly on the bed with him, kissing him on the mouth, on the breasts. He felt his... Tammy's body squirming with excitement.
Freddy reached down at started to tug at his panties. Fred felt Tammy's fear that they might rip. "Wait a minute," he/she said impatiently. His/her body raised itself slightly off the bed. Freddy pulled the panty down. Tossing it away with a triumphant smile on his face.
Freddy was on top of him/her. Something moved against Fred/Tammy's upper thigh. "Better let me," he/she said. He/she reached down to guide his penis. It seemed so strange to Fred to be touching someone else's penis, even though he knew that it was really the younger version of his own.
It slid in easily. His/her vagina was wet and ready. "Oh," he/she said at the odd feeling of being penetrated. For Tammy, it was something she'd expected, actually looked forward to -- if it was the right boy. Fred had never known, never expected to know anything like it. 'Did it have to feel so _good_?' he thought nervously.
It did, and the feeling got better and better. Fred felt transported. His younger body seemed to be pumping _megavolts_ of sexual energy into Tammy's body. It was Fred as well as Tammy that shouted "Yes, yes!" before the words dissolved into a high pitched scream.
The scene shifted. He was Tammy again, but it was about two weeks later. They had made love the second time at her house. Her parents came back just as he/she climaxed. Freddy heard them and tried to stop, but he/she wouldn't let him pull out. Freddy almost killed his older self by stuffing a pillow in his/her face to muffle the noise.
The orgasm that second time had felt even better than the first.
He was never Tammy again. Her parents had found them upstairs. They were fully dressed but still upstairs. Freddy was blamed, and Tammy wasn't allowed to see him again.
Then Fred was the succession of the girls he'd dated through the rest of high school. By his senior year, Freddy had earned a reputation as a cocksman among a certain segment of the females in the class. Fred found himself being fucked the back seat of cars, in various bedrooms and basement family rooms. He was amazed at the pride Myra Hertzog felt in being taken on the floor of her father's legal office, when they snuck in there one Saturday. She'd always pretended that she hadn't meant it to happen.
Fred barely noticed that the revulsion he'd felt at first was smaller each time. He tried to change things, to force the body of the girl to push his younger self away. He couldn't. After a few times, he was getting so caught up in the pleasure that he just stopped trying.
It got even better during Freddy's college years. The girls had been more adventurous and more skilled. Fred was fucked in quiet corners of the library, in dorm rooms, and even classrooms. He found him/herself on his/her back in his frat house, and in the "guest" beds at a couple of sororities.
Fred found him/herself on his/her knees giving head. Yes, he'd learned to enjoy that, too, at college. Fred felt the cramping of his/her period just as Freddy came in the mouth of one steady girlfriend. He didn't care; Freddy had played with his/her clit, even ignoring the blood, until he/she _had_ to do something.
He felt the increased pleasure of threesomes. Whether it was a spare boy or a spare girl didn't matter as long as the orgasms came. They were something Fred was looking forward to now, and Freddy never seemed to disappoint.
On into his twenties and the sleek women he'd known... and loved. Fred's mind lingered over each encounter. He was enjoying it now, enjoying the kissing on his mouth, his breasts, his... his pussy. Foreplay was wonderfully different for each woman he became. He thrilled as his body warmed, as the nerves "pinged" with arousal. It was incredible to feel his nipples grow hard, his pussy grow warm, and wet, and empty.
Then... then Freddy, _wonderful_ Freddy, would fill it. He would pump and pump. He would reach down and play with Fred's clit. Sometimes he used a finger or his limber tongue. Whatever he did, the orgasms would build and build until the moment of ultimate, pleasurable release.
It was that way when he shared the experience with Meg, and Sally, and Tamara (his bit of brown sugar), and... He lost track of how many "ands" there were.
Until he was Spring Harper. There was that last time, was it only four days ago, when Freddy had walked into her office just before five. They had a date for dinner, but Freddy hadn't wanted to wait.
Freddy took Fred/Spring in his arms and kissed her. Freddy's tongue forced its way between his/her teeth and played with his/her own. Fred felt his body warm, heard it moan. He felt Freddy's hands pushing his/her dress up, pulling his/her panties down, and taking him/her there right on the desk. The office wasn't empty, and the risk of getting caught just added to the pleasure of it.
Fred was still screaming, still feeling the orgasm, when he found himself back in his own body. He was standing on the beach looking at Jamala.
"You are a most skilled lover, Master. If you still want my body..." she let the words trail off.
She was a beautiful as before, but Fred felt different about her now. "I do; I do," Fred said eagerly. "I want your body -- or one like it. I-I want to experience that sort of sex for the rest of my life. I...I want to be a woman, a beautiful woman." he blurted out the words, almost surprising himself. No, it wasn't a surprise. He had just experienced what might be described as a fifteen-year long multiple orgasm. Who _wouldn't_ want to be a woman after something like that?
The sensation that followed was like being dipped headfirst in warm honey. Fred's hair grew long and silky, reaching down to just below the shoulders. His face soften as his cheekbones rose and his nose straightened and grew smaller. His lips seemed a bit larger, though. His Adam's apple shrank away, so that his voice was now a pleasant contralto. His body shrank and became thinner. What body hair he had disappeared except for the woman's inverted triangle in his crotch.
A woman's curves came in, now. He felt a pulling at his chest. His pects became breasts, growing out until they were a 36-C, pushing out his shirt. His waist narrowed and his hips grew wide. His ass grew out into the teardrop of a woman's ass. His arms and legs developed the supple roundness of a woman.
The final -- truly final -- change came last. His penis grew erect for the last time. It reached its full length before it began to shrink away. His testicles shrank and withdrew into his body to become ovaries. The empty sacks tightened, reduced to a pair of lips that surrounded the nub that was the last remnant of his manhood. The nub became even smaller as it settled down into the slit that was forming between his legs.
Fred Scofield was now a woman.
"How do I look? How do I look?" she asked eagerly. Jamala smiled and made a gesture. The air in front of him shimmered and became a sort of mirror. Fred stared at the reflection. She was beautiful, but... "Why am I still in these clothes, and where is my make-up and all that?"
"Master... Mistress, your wish was for the body of a woman. That was all. You are still Fred Scofield. You wear his clothes because he wore them, and you wear no make-up because he did not."
"The hell with that. I wish... I wish I was a girl, that I was _always_ a girl as far as the rest of the world is concerned, dressed and made up for the _male_ lover I want here with me as soon as possible."
"And that is your final wish?" Jamala smiled. It was the sort of smile a hawk would have as he swooped down on an unsuspecting squirrel.
"Yes, yes. That's what I wish."
Jamala nodded. "Then let it be done." She clapped her hand.
A flood of memories washed into Fred's mind. She still remembered being a male, but those memories were less clear. The clearer memories were of being a little girl, of her first bra, her first date, her first... the first time a boy had kissed her, had made love to her.
And she remembered that people called her Frieda, not Fred.
At that same instant, Frieda's clothes began to change. Her sport shirt lost its sleeves as it shifted from dark blue cotton to a pale blue Lycra. It was sheerer now, and the push-up bra that her T-shirt had become could be partly seen through it.
At the same time, her Dockers moved up her legs. They merged into a single tube of cloth that reformed into a blue beach skirt, with a matching pair of short shorts beneath it. Beneath them, what had been a pair of men's briefs was now a sheer thong panty.
Her sandals were still sandals, but they had a one-inch heel now. She felt something on her face and looked in the mirror again. "These clothes, they're beautiful and... make-up. I'm wearing make-up." She was, lipstick and blusher.
Frieda primped in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection. Then she pouted. "But I wished for a lover, too, a man to make me feel..." She shivered and hugged herself in anticipation.
"As my Mistress wishes," Jamala said. She clapped her hands. "Behold my true form, then."
The Djinn began to grow taller. Her curves filled out into hard angular muscle. Her hair shrank down into a thin layer of stubble, even as a beard grew out from her chin. Her breasts withdrew back into the hard pectorals of her chest even as the halter that had held them became a man's vest. Her pants remained, but they were the solid cloth of a pair of male pants. They even had the bulge at the crotch that hinted at what is so often found in a male's pants.
Frieda was looking at that same bulge. She licked her lips in anticipation as she felt the familiar tingling in her breasts and groin.
_Jamal_ stepped forward, taking the eager woman in his arms. Tricking a human with their own wishes was the favorite sport of the Green Djinn. This human had given Jamal the chance to play a truly historic prank upon _him_. Not only that, but now _she_ offered herself as a personal reward.
Jamal took the eager, new woman into his arms and disappeared into the egg that was the gateway to his own realm.
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