Story Bookmarker

Tonight is our 10th anniversary, and it’s my turn to spin the wheel first. I’m waiting in the living room with a glass of wine.

Christopher comes in, places the wheel on the table, and grins at me while I give it a mighty yank. It takes nearly a minute to slow to a stop, click-click-clicking past a variety of options, each hotter than the last, until it hits “Discreet.” Hmm. I’m not even sure what that means, to be honest. My phone pings as my new profile magically autopopulates.

Name: Bottom4NSAFun My Tribe: Discreet

Age: 45 Position: Bottom I’m Looking For: Hookups Meet At: Your Place

Oh, I guess my guy is on the DL. Don’t blame me for not knowing what all the categories mean, I never had a reason to use Grindr to actually find hookups. Christopher and I have been together since high school. My guy’s lack of a profile pic is a little sus, though. I’m worried I’ll turn out to be an uggo, but at least I’ll still be a bottom. That’s definitely keeping me in my comfort zone.

Christopher grabs my phone to look at my profile. He shrugs, saying, “You’re a man of few words, I guess.” He turns his attention back to the wheel and spins it. Less forcefully than I had, so it lands relatively quickly on “Jock.” Ping! I look over his shoulder as he scrolls through his new profile.

Name: Topher My Tribe: Jock About Me: got no type when it comes to fun. if you’re hot, I’m DTF. 420 friendly. would never say no to a generous lover

Age: 20 Position: Top Body Type: Muscular Relationship Status: Single I’m Looking For: Hookups

I look at the photo on “Topher’s” profile and, honestly, it’s a little much. I’m not usually into such beefy guys. Hell, I became a dedicated Cumberbitch after binging Sherlock three times in a row. But something about this photo ignites a fire in me. I feel like my balls are tingling and I chub up in my pants just looking at the tiny headless torso on the phone’s screen.

That must be the magic kicking in. My interests are already morphing. Fuck, I’m so entranced by the whorls of chest hair peeking out from the wrestling singlet that it feels like a slap in the face when Christopher locks his phone and puts it in his pocket.

He turns to me, asking, “So, whose place is this?”

It takes me a moment to wrangle my brain back into reality. It’s a good question, really. Since we’re role-playing a Grindr hookup, it’s not like our characters already live together. Usually we alternate which of us is the person who lives in the apartment, and which of us is the visitor. The place then transforms to match the host’s persona. My magic is very thorough. I scratch my chin, thinking about the little information my profile was able to deliver.

I say, “Well, it sure seems like my guy can’t host, so it’s yours, babe.” I give him a peck on the cheek and head out the front door.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, a wave of dizziness hits. I stumble down the hallway and lean against the nearest vertical surface to settle myself. We’ve played this game half a dozen times before, so I’m usually used to the feeling of my old self slowly slipping away, but now I’m dizzy and there’s a knot of nerves in my stomach that I’ve never felt before. Did something go wrong? I open my phone and check my Grindr profile again.

As soon as I do so, it’s clear my magic is still working. The profile is unchanged, nothing weird about it. I take a couple steadying breaths. The knot in my stomach is still there, though, and it’s joined by what feels like a swarm of butterflies. Whatever. I try to ignore it, but when I turn around I realize I’m in front of the elevator. I look to the left, then to the right. I realize I'm not actually sure where Topher’s apartment is. I scroll through my Grindr message history. It’s short.

Bottom4NSAFun: Looking? Topher: Pics?

This is followed by an ass shot taken in a well-kept bathroom. The toilet, which is covered in a doily, isn’t even properly cropped out. There’s no face, or any other identifying features. Of course. So I’m still in the dark about what I look like. It’s not a bad ass, though.

Topher: K

This message is followed by the building’s address and the apartment number: 514. Thank goodness. I look up at the door across the hall from the elevator, number 510.

I walk to the door marked “514” and go to knock, but suddenly the knot in my stomach tightens. What if I have the wrong place? What if it’s not Topher behind the door? What if it’s someone from work? How will I explain being in this random apartment building? I gulp, look around to make sure that the hallway is empty, then open my phone to send a message.

Bottom4NSAFun: Here

I hear a rustling sound behind the door, then a pair of feet lumbering toward me. The door creaks open. A hairless young man stands before me, clad in a wrestling singlet that is patently too big for him. It hangs down so low in the front I can practically see his belly button. His skinny arm tenses as he pulls the door completely open, surveying me with a supercilious air.

He gives me a once-over before backing out of the door frame, allowing me to step inside.

“Nice fit,” he grunts. I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. I take a look in the mirror propped up against the wall in the apartment’s entryway and see I’m wearing my usual. Slacks and loafers with a button-down underneath a blazer. I look nice! Mostly. Sure, my sleeves and pant legs seem weirdly long, like the clothes weren’t fitted properly. Maybe the dry cleaner messed them up? But still. Why do I get the sense he’s making fun of me, just a little bit?

I step into the apartment and look around while Topher locks the door behind me. It’s about what you’d expect for a single 20-year-old, even a gay one. No decorations on the walls, mysterious stains on the carpet. A ziggurat of empty beer cans emerges from the top of a trash can in the kitchen.

The whole thing kinda grosses me out, reminding me of my college days in the frat house, cleaning up after anyone. They always called me “Mom,” but I didn’t mind. It sure beat being called… something worse.

I turn back to Topher, so I won’t have to look anywhere else in the room. I notice a Stanford insignia emblazoned on his singlet, which is a little difficult to decipher given how baggy it is. I suppose he thinks it’s a turn-on for dudes if he matches his profile photo.

“I… like your outfit,” I say, my voice cracking slightly as I do so. “Have you… lost some weight recently?”

Topher looks scandalized. “Bro, don’t diss my gains. I work out like every day. Check out this pump.” He flexes his skinny bicep, placing my hand on his arm so I can feel it. He flexes so hard that his arm seems to be bulging off his skeletal frame. Wait, it is. Warm beneath my hand, his arm beefs up. I could have encircled his upper arm with my fingers just moments ago, but my tight grip is being wrenched wider and wider by a swelling mound of solid muscle. It’s coiled and tense, solid like iron.

He flexes his other arm and a bicep bulges out, even quicker than the other arm. I grab that one too, an electric rush of lust causing my dick to stir. Fuck, he’s more jacked than I gave him credit for. I want to touch him everywhere. I run my hands down his back, feeling his lats unfurl like a pair of wings, his glutes bulging and rounding out as I caress them.

The hairs on his thighs tickle my palms as they grow round, juicy, and firm, the calves below them swelling into perfect hardened diamonds. Pointedly avoiding his dick, I slide my hands up the front of the singlet, feeling hard cobblestone abs rising up beneath the slick fabric in the wake of my touch. I grab his chest and it seems to answer my call, surging forward toward my waiting fingers, pecs forming a meaty shelf that strains against the fabric of the singlet, which is now pulled taut against his chiseled body.

Fuck, he really does look as beefy as his photo. I just couldn’t see it until I was up close, I suppose. I look down, realizing I’m still grabbing his pecs. I step back, embarrassed, saying, “I guess I got carried away. Sorry.”

He shrugs, his voice coming out in a deep croak. “It’s the singlet. Guys can’t control themselves around it.” He taps me on the chest. “So why are you all dressed up? You just come from work? What do you do?”

“I…” I pause at first because my mind feels foggy and I can’t quite remember. Then memories surface. Years working in a cubicle before being promoted to the corner office at a conservative marketing firm. I open my mouth to tell him, but another knot of fear twists my stomach. If I give him any identifying details, he might be able to use that to blackmail me. How could I be so stupid as to consider telling him where I work?

I finish my sentence, lamely. “I… work a regular, boring job just like everybody else. Same job for about twenty years now.”

Topher grunts again. “Not like everybody else. Not like me. Couldn’t do the same thing for that long, bro. I’m different.”

I sigh, looking him over. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”

As I stand there, Topher seems to be shrinking before me. Wait, everything seems to be shrinking. The fridge, the door frame, the one standing lamp in the corner of the room… My cuffs and sleeves feel like they’re slithering down my arms and legs until suddenly they fit perfectly.

I feel that knot in my stomach again, but this time it feels different. More like it’s on the outside than the inside. I put my hand to my stomach and feel my ab muscles tensing, bulking up, and then relaxing. Wait, not relaxing. The muscle is still there, tight and tense, but a wave of fat has subsumed them, ballooning out into a tight but small beer gut. It pushes against my shirt, but then the fabric is pulled in a new direction as my pecs jut out over my gut, not as juicy as Topher’s but still taut and firm, making the fabric strain against my chest and hang nicely over my stomach so that the bulge is barely visible.

Topher clears his throat, grinning. I’m shaken from my reverie. Why am I touching my stomach again? I have the weird sensation that it didn’t used to look like this, but of course it did. At least, for the last three years since I got that promotion and haven’t been able to work out quite as much as I used to. I shake the thought away and lower my hand.

Topher growls, “Why don’t you stop touching yourself and let me give it a shot?” He grabs my waist and pulls me close, stripping me to my undershirt. My blazer and button-down hit the floor and I make a mental note to drop them off at the dry cleaner on my way home. That carpet is gross, and I don’t want to have to explain any mysterious stains to… To who, exactly? My mind is still foggy.

He unbuckles my belt and pulls down my pants. I kick off my shoes and now I’m just in my undershirt and briefs. He gropes my ass. It feels great, his strong hands kneading my backside. That familiar tingle comes, an urgent need to have his dick inside me. But the tingle feels sour, somehow. A blend of pleasure and… something else. Shame. Suddenly, the idea of having his dick inside me, however enticing, vanishes in a haze of shame. I know that eventually, that need will build up so great that it overflows everything else and drowns the shame, at least for a little bit. That’s why I ended up here, after all. It’d been months since I downloaded Grindr, I was doing so well. But needs are needs. I just needed to warm up a little bit.

I take his hands in mine and whisper. “I… need a couple minutes. Can we just kiss for now?”

Topher shrugs and collapses onto a ratty-looking couch against the wall, which is covered in patches and reeks of spilled beer. I sit down primly next to him and he leans over, shoving his tongue inelegantly into my mouth. He tastes like beer too. I kind of like it. I grab a handful of the medium-length hair on the back of his head and deepen the kiss. He nibbles at my lip, which makes me gasp and let go. When I try to grab his hair again, I can’t find purchase. It feels like the hairs are wriggling backward through my fingers, toward his scalp.

I rub the back of his head with both hands and all I find is close-cropped hair. I open my eyes and realize I’m being dumb. He has the same short hairstyle he was wearing when he opened the door, bulging out of that hot singlet that reminds me so much of my time wrestling in high school. I would always be pressed into some other guy’s chest, praying that I wouldn’t get a boner like the one I have now. I feel a scraping sensation as he kisses me, like the stubble on his upper lip and cheeks is pushing out of its follicles, one millimeter at a time.

I lick the rough patch of hair under his mouth and feel a quiver roll through me. God, this is hot. I feel like I’m 26 again. I grab his chest, feeling the chest hair that I suddenly remember being there the whole time pillowing against my fingers. It wriggles around my hands like it’s alive, emerging from his chest in a profuse blanket until my hand gets lost within it. I grab some of it and give it an experimental tug. Topher moans deeply and kisses me harder. Fuck. The sensation in my ass is growing, and growing. Just a little more time and I might… Fuck.

Topher swings a leg over me and mounts my lap, still kissing me deeply. Motion behind him catches my eye, but I notice it’s just our reflections in a mirror propped against the wall next to a makeshift weight bench. As I look, my hair seems to straighten itself, flattening against my head before slithering backward into a much shorter, more professional cut. Flecks of grey suddenly daub themselves across my temples and my own short stubble grows bushier as the color drains from it too, giving me a well-kept salt and pepper beard. As I squint to try and make out exactly what’s happening in the mirror, slight wrinkles form on my forehead and around my eyes, though they don’t vanish when I stop squinting.

Any thoughts about that are driven from my head when Topher puts one arm agains the wall to lean in even closer, his chest pressing against mine. I see a dark bush of hair burst from his armpit, complementing the look of his irresistibly hairy chest. A thick musk begins to emanate from his body, driving me wild. Fuck. I shouldn’t be here. I should be- Musk fills my nostrils again. Fuck. Fuck it. I need it so bad.

“Can you take me to the bedroom?” I grunt.

Topher stands up, showing me his body in its full glory.

I want to peel that singlet off him so bad. I want to see the dick that’s barely hidden by the tight fabric. I want it in my mouth. I want it in my ass. There’s no turning back now, not tonight. My wife and Andrew Jr. aren’t expecting me home for dinner anyway, I told them I’d be working late. There will be a time for guilt and shame, but not right now. Fuck, not right now.

————————

Two days later, I’m helping Andrew Jr. move into his dorm at California University. I’m sweating as I drop a box of bedsheets on the unmade twin bed. There’s a knock on the door so I turn around. A familiar-looking young man reaches out a hand to me. “Hi, you must be Andrew’s dad. I’m Topher, his RA. Please let me know if you have any-“

He cuts himself off when he sees my flabbergasted expression, then I see a spark of recognition in his eyes.

“I- I thought you went to Stanford,” I stammer.

Topher grins smugly. “They’ll let anybody buy their merch, bro. Guys like to imagine I’m at Stanford, and I like to give them that fantasy. It’s hotter than telling folks I go to CU, you know?”

I look around nervously, hoping Andrew Jr. hasn’t gotten back from the car and overheard that. No, the coast is clear. Thank goodness. I whisper, “I can’t talk about this here, Topher.”

He nods. “Yeah, bro. I got you. But… maybe we can ‘talk’ in my dorm once all the students are out of the way at the welcome dinner?” He winks.

I’m speechless for a second. But the tingling need in my ass returns at full force. I can see a swirl of chest hair poking out from his V-neck tee, and I can already feel the sensation of it tickling my tongue returning to the back of my memory, like an acid flashback. I nod, still tongue-tied.

The house emerged from the trees like a ghost from their childhood. A large, two-story Victorian-style lakeside retreat with dark timber framing, wide verandas, and tall windows that once let in endless summer light. Now the paint was faded and peeling, the shutters on the upper floor hung at odd angles, and moss clung to the roof tiles. The garden had gone wild tall grass swaying in the breeze, rose bushes grown into chaotic thickets, and the old wooden dock stretching out over the dark water of the lake like a skeletal finger.

They parked and stepped out. The evening air was cool, carrying the gentle lapping of water against the shore. Crickets had already begun their nightly chorus.

“Still standing, at least,” Joey muttered, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder. “Your mum never sold it?”

“Couldn’t bring herself to. It’s been in the family since my great-grandfather built it. After Uncle Richard disappeared… she just locked the doors and paid someone to check on it once a year.”

They climbed the creaky porch steps. Duncan pulled out an old key that still somehow worked. The heavy oak door groaned open, releasing a rush of stale, dusty air that smelled of aged wood, old books, and faint traces of pipe tobacco that somehow never fully faded.

Inside, time had frozen. The furniture was still draped in white sheets like ghosts. Duncan pulled one off the big leather sofa in the living room, sending a cloud of dust dancing in the golden evening light filtering through the windows.

“Jesus,” Joey laughed softly, running his fingers along the carved mantelpiece. “Look at this. We used to race Matchbox cars right here. You always cheated.”

“I did not,” Duncan protested with a grin. “You just sucked at it.”

They spent the next hour exploring the ground floor together, beers in hand. Every room triggered another memory. The kitchen where they’d made disastrous pancake experiments. The hallway where they’d slid down the banister until Duncan’s mother caught them. The study lined with dark oak shelves still filled with Uncle Richard’s old travel books, maps, and strange artifacts from every corner of the world.

Eventually they made their way upstairs, footsteps echoing on the worn hardwood. The door to the attic was at the end of the corridor, half-hidden behind a tall cabinet. Duncan hesitated for a moment before opening it. Narrow stairs led up into darkness. He flicked on the old light switch. A single bare bulb hummed to life, casting long shadows across the vast, cluttered space.

The attic was exactly as they remembered it low rafters, trunks stacked high, old furniture covered in sheets, and shelves upon shelves of Uncle Richard’s souvenirs. Brass instruments, carved wooden masks, colorful textiles, strange coins, and glass bottles from distant lands.

They sat on an old Persian rug in the middle of the floor, legs stretched out, cracking open fresh beers.

“God, we were so sure we’d end up like him,” Joey said quietly, gesturing at the collection around them. “Traveling the world. No ties. Pure freedom.”

Duncan took a long sip. “Yeah. Remember how we’d play explorers up here? You’d put on that old turban and declare yourself Sultan Joey the Magnificent. I was always your loyal adventurer sidekick.”

Joey chuckled. “We swore we’d never settle down. No mortgages, no office jobs, no responsibilities. Just passports full of stamps and stories worth telling.”

A comfortable silence fell for a moment before Duncan’s voice grew heavier. “Instead, I’m turning thirty in two days with a wedding planned, a promotion that feels more like a cage, and a spare tire I can’t get rid of no matter how many times I join a gym. Kelly’s great, but… sometimes I wonder what the hell happened to us.”

Joey stared at the floor. “Tell me about it. Cynthia’s seven months pregnant. I love her. I really do. But I’m still pouring pints at The Crown six nights a week. No degree, no prospects, just scraping by. We were supposed to be different, Duncan. We had stars in our eyes.”

They talked for a long time about the girls, the jobs, the quiet disappointment that had crept into their lives like fog over the lake. The conversation eventually drifted back to Uncle Richard.

“You know… I still think about him,” Duncan said, voice low. “Mum never talks about it. The official story was that he just… vanished. Packed a bag one night in late August and was gone. No note. No body. The police investigated for months but found nothing. Some people thought he ran off with a woman. Others said suicide. But we both know that wasn’t him.”

Joey nodded slowly. “He was the happiest person I’ve ever met. Always laughing, always planning the next trip. Remember that scar on his arm he said came from a camel bite in Morocco? Or the way he’d tell stories about getting lost in the souks of Marrakech? Who would have thought this would be his last trip…”

Duncan stood up and walked over to a particular shelf. He picked up a small, ornate oil lamp made of aged brass with intricate oriental patterns sitting on a dusty box. It looked remarkably clean compared to everything else in the attic.

"This was his favorite piece,” Duncan murmured. “He told us once that it was special. Said it had… history.” He turned it over in his hands. “Funny. After he disappeared, Mum wanted everything cleared out, but she couldn’t touch this room. Said it felt like he was still here.”

What Duncan didn’t know what no one in the family had ever known was the truth. Uncle Richard had indeed found this lamp years earlier during one of his travels. He had become its master. He had made his wishes. And when the Genie had finished granting them in his own cruel, creative way, Richard had been transformed and rewritten into a new life far from this one. The Genie had neatly erased him from this world, leaving only mystery and grief behind. The lamp had returned here, waiting patiently for the next pair of dreamers.

Joey stood up and joined him, taking the lamp gently. “Crazy to think we used to rub this thing as kids, hoping a genie would pop out and take us on adventures.” He rubbed his thumb across the surface absentmindedly while continuing to speak. “Imagine if it actually worked. We could fix everything. Get our old bodies back. Have the careers we should have had. Live the life we always talked about.”

He tossed the lamp lightly to Duncan. “Your turn to make a wish, birthday boy.”

Duncan caught it with a laugh and rubbed it as well, playing along. “Yeah, sure. Three wishes to turn our boring lives into something legendary.”

The moment his fingers completed the second rub, the lamp began to vibrate.

At first it was subtle a faint tremor. Then it grew stronger. Duncan frowned. “Joey… it’s getting warm.”

Joey stepped closer. “What do you mean warm? Let me see…”

Suddenly the brass grew scalding hot. Duncan cried out in shock and pain. “Fuck! It’s burning me!” He tried to drop it, but for a terrifying second his fingers seemed stuck to the metal. Joey grabbed at it instinctively to help, and searing pain shot through both their palms.

They finally managed to fling the lamp to the floor. It clattered loudly against the wooden boards. Both men staggered back, clutching their hands. Their palms were bright red, already blistering, the skin looking raw and angry. The pain was intense, throbbing in time with their racing heartbeats.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?!” Joey gasped; teeth gritted. Tears of pain pricked at the corners of his eyes. “It felt like molten iron!”

Duncan was breathing hard, staring at the lamp on the floor. Thick purple smoke had begun to leak from its spout, swirling unnaturally, rising and twisting in deliberate patterns. The air in the attic grew heavy, charged, as if the temperature itself had shifted.

The smoke thickened, coalescing, taking shape.

A tall, powerfully muscled figure began to form bronzed skin, bare chest, sheer blue silk pants. The Genie’s eyes opened, glowing faintly, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

The two friends stood frozen, pain and terror mixing as they stared at the impossible being now standing before them in the dusty attic.

The Genie tilted his head slightly, regarding their burned hands with mock sympathy. He raised one finger as if to say “wait,” and the purple smoke around him stirred again.

Then, very slowly, he began to move toward them.

The Genie stood before them in the dimly lit attic, towering and impossibly real. He was easily six and a half feet tall, with broad, powerfully sculpted shoulders and a chest that looked carved from warm bronze. His skin glowed with a healthy, sun-kissed tone. The only clothing, he wore was a pair of sheer blue silk pants that hung low on his narrow hips, the fabric so thin it revealed the heavy outline of his cock and balls with every subtle shift of his body. A faint, exotic scent of sandalwood, spice, and something electric filled the air.

Joey and Duncan pressed back against an old trunk, hearts hammering. Their burned hands throbbed with fierce pain.

“This isn’t real,” Joey whispered, voice shaking. “This can’t be real. Duncan, tell me this is some kind of fucked-up hallucination.”

Duncan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the being. “If it is, we’re both having it.”

The Genie’s lips curved into a slow, amused smile. His eyes a deep, piercing amber studied them with predatory interest. “Fear not, Masters. I mean you no immediate harm.” His voice was rich, cultured, with a faint accent that seemed to shift between languages. “You rubbed the lamp together. You freed me together. Therefore, you share three wishes. No more. No less.”

He took one graceful step forward. Joey flinched.

“Stay back!” Duncan shouted, cradling his blistered right hand against his chest. The pain was excruciating, like someone had pressed a hot iron into his palm. Blisters were already forming. Joey’s hand looked just as bad.

The Genie tilted his head, clearly enjoying their terror. “Such small injuries… and yet you tremble. How fragile humans are.” He raised his right hand slowly, deliberately, fingers spread. Purple smoke began to drift lazily from his fingertips. “Allow me to demonstrate my sincerity.”

Joey’s breathing quickened. “Don’t touch us! We don’t want anything from you!”

But the Genie ignored him. The smoke drifted toward them like living tendrils. Duncan tried to scramble backward but hit the trunk. The smoke gently coiled around both men’s injured hands without touching their skin. A strange warmth not burning this time, but soothing, almost silky enveloped their palms.

“Oh God…” Duncan breathed.

At first, nothing visible happened. The pain remained sharp. Then, very slowly, the Genie closed his eyes as if concentrating. The smoke pulsed. A tingling sensation spread across Duncan’s palm, like thousands of tiny needles dancing just beneath the surface. The redness began to fade from the edges inward. Blisters that had started to rise flattened gradually. The raw, angry skin lightened from crimson to pink, then to healthy flesh. The deep throbbing eased into a gentle itch, then disappeared entirely.

Duncan stared, wide-eyed, as he flexed his fingers. No pain. No mark. Nothing.

Joey’s healing was even slower, more theatrical. The Genie clearly wanted them to feel every second. Joey watched in horrified fascination as the blisters on his hand shrank, popped without fluid, and the skin knitted itself back together. The process took nearly a full minute. When it was done, both men’s hands looked completely untouched, as if the burns had never happened.

The Genie lowered his hand. The purple smoke dissolved. “Better?” he asked, voice dripping with mock politeness.

Duncan examined his palm under the attic bulb, turning it over and over. “How… how did you do that?”

“I am a Genie. Healing is among the simplest of arts.” He smiled again, but the expression never reached his eyes. Those eyes held centuries of cruel entertainment. “Now. You have three wishes. I suggest you use them thoughtfully. Many before you have regretted hasty words.”

Joey swallowed hard. His mind was racing. Part of him still screamed that this was impossible a prank, a dream, gas leak, anything. But the healed hands were undeniable. The being in front of them was undeniable.

He looked at Duncan. “We should just leave. Run. This thing is dangerous.”

Duncan hesitated, breathing heavily. “And if it’s real? If we actually have three wishes?” His voice dropped. “Joey… we’ve been talking all night about how we fucked up our lives. This could be our only chance.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Fear and desperate hope warred on both their faces.

“Fine,” Joey said finally, voice hoarse. “But we think carefully. No rushing. We discuss every wish.”

The Genie crossed his powerful arms over his broad chest and waited, clearly entertained by their mortal panic.

Duncan spoke first, choosing his words with care. “Before we wish anything… what are the limits? Can we wish for anything?”

“Almost anything,” the Genie replied smoothly. “I cannot raise the dead in their original form. I cannot force genuine love where none exists. And I cannot undo wishes already granted. Everything else…” He spread his hands. “Is negotiable.”

Joey ran a hand through his hair, thinking hard. “Okay. Okay. We need to be smart.”

They sat down again on the old Persian rug, keeping distance from the Genie. For nearly twenty minutes they talked in low, urgent voices, weighing possibilities while the Genie watched silently, his smirk never fading.

Duncan went deep into his regrets. “I’ve put on nearly thirty pounds since university. I feel old. Slow. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a guy who gave up. If I could just have my twenty-year-old body back lean, strong, full of energy that alone would change everything. I could actually enjoy life again instead of feeling like I’m already declining at twenty-nine.”

Joey nodded slowly. “I get it. For me… it’s the wasted potential. I dropped out after first year. If I’d stuck with it, gotten my degree in finance like I planned… I could’ve given Cynthia and the baby a real future. Instead, I’m pouring beers and worrying about rent. I wish I had actually succeeded. That I’d become someone.”

They kept talking, circling the same fears. What if the wishes backfired? What if the Genie twisted them? They tried to add safeguards, but every condition they imagined felt clumsy.

Eventually Duncan stood up, lamp in hand. His voice was steady despite the fear in his eyes.

“I wish I had the body I had at twenty.”

The Genie’s amber eyes flashed with dark delight. He bowed his head slightly.

“As you wish.”

A faint pulse of energy passed through the attic, but no visible change occurred yet. Duncan exhaled shakily. “It… it didn’t do anything.”

“It will,” the Genie said softly. “When all three wishes are spoken.”

Joey took the lamp next. His hands were trembling. He thought of Cynthia, of the baby on the way, of all the nights he lay awake wondering how he’d provide. His voice cracked slightly.

“I wish I had gotten my degree and made something of myself.”

“As you wish,” the Genie repeated, the same hungry smile playing on his lips.

Another subtle pulse. Joey felt a strange flutter in his chest but pushed it down. He handed the lamp back to Duncan.

They stood shoulder to shoulder now, holding the lamp together. The weight of the moment pressed down on them. This was their last wish the one that had to count.

Duncan spoke carefully. “We’ve spent our whole lives dreaming about this. Travel. Adventure. Real excitement. No more boring routines. No more feeling like we settled.”

Joey finished the thought, voice firm despite his fear. “We wish for the exciting life full of travel and adventure we were always meant to have.”

The Genie was silent for several heartbeats. His smile slowly widened into something predatory and ancient. For the first time, both men felt a chill run down their spines, as if they had just stepped off a cliff.

“As you wish,” the Genie finally purred, each word dripping with satisfaction.

He raised his hand dramatically.

The air in the attic grew thick with purple smoke and electric tension. A low humming filled their ears. Both Joey and Duncan felt a strange warmth bloom in the center of their chests pleasant at first, then rapidly intensifying.

They looked at each other, eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and exhilarating hope. For a short moment, they felt like they were on the edge of the greatest adventure of their lives. They had found the long-lost spark that animated their hearts and days.

In front of them, the genie was standing straight, a malicious smile covered his tanned cheeks and with a sweet movement of his wrist and fingers, he snaped.

Purple smoke exploded outward like a living storm, choking them in thick, electric heat. Joey gasped in surprise first shortly followed by an intense sensation of discomfort followed by pain as the agony ripped into his legs. “AHHHHHHH THE FUCK IS THAT!!! IT HURTS! MAKE IT STOP!” His thighs and calves shattered and swelled violently, bones lengthening with wet cracking sounds while powerful new muscle tore through his flesh. He collapsed to his knees as his feet followed, toes breaking and stretching, arches rising painfully as his shoes split apart. Joey tried to look around with the hope to see his friend ready to help him or the genie about to snap his fingers again to cancel this clearly bad outcome of their wishes but he saw nothing, only purple glittery smoke bocking everything from his view. “HELP ME!” He screamed one more time with the hope of finding help but he only heard a villainous laugh back in return echoing through the smoke and mist and coming back to his ears. What has been granted cannot be taken back, master… Duncan roared in terror as well. In the blink of an eye, the attic was gone and now all he could see was purple smoke all around him. He could still feel the wooden floor under his shoes but he couldn’t even see it. “Joey! Joey, are you alright? Where are you?! JOEY!!” he creamed for his friend feeling the anxiety skyrocketing through his veins. “JOE… AAAAHHHHHH!!” his sentence was cut short as he felt a rush of heat followed by pain of breaking bones crashing through his legs. Joey could feel his legs ballooned next, muscles exploding with brutal force far beyond anything from his youth.

The Genie hovered closer, smiling with dark amusement. “Begging already? How precious. This is only the beginning, Masters…” his voice echoing to both of them through the smoke.

The burning surged upward. Both men gasped and screamed as their chests expanded with sickening pops. Ribs widened, pectorals ballooning into thick, heavy slabs of muscle that stretched their skin painfully tight. “It’s breaking me apart!” Duncan howled. “Please… make it stop!”

Coarse dark hair erupted in their armpits as fresh sweat glands activated, flooding the attic with a thick, pungent masculine musk, heavy testosterone and raw male sweat. A dense treasure trail raced up from their groins, spreading across their newly carved abs and fanning over their swollen pecs.

Joey whimpered brokenly, “I can’t… I can’t breathe… please…” as he was feeling his overheating body starting to shut down and his vision blurring darkly because of his restarting nervous system and rearranging organs.

Duncan was crying and screaming in pain as he could feel his limbs starting to spasm on their own, muscles activating by forced electric signal sent by his brain drowning in a cocktail of hormones. He could feel his heart beat in each of his cells and could hear the sound of his pumping heart. Duncan was starting to dissociate when he heard the genie snap his fingers one more time. Out of nowhere, he felt his senses coming back to him as he heard the genie talk directly in his brain. “We don’t want you to miss the best part of the show, do we?” Out of nowhere, Duncan felt blood coursing through his body in one central position as he could feel his cock straining his jeans and getting trapped against his muscled and hairy thighs.  

His cock surged forward with vicious intensity, thickening and lengthening into a massive uncut cock and with one more spasm from his un-controlling body and pumping heart, his cock contracted and torn apart his fly as he felt it slap hard against his hard rock forming abs. in the blink of an eye, it started to feel active and soon he could feel precum pumping out of his urethra and slushing all around his hairy abs.

Joey could feel changes happening to him as well. He was screaming in pain and fear as he could feel his cock straining against what was left of his Calvin Klein underwear. He could feel his heart beat in his hardening cock head as he could feel his foreskin starting to tighten around it because of the pression caused by his blood system. He could feel his nuts pulling lower and lower as sperm started to be product in huge proportions. His cock head was starting to look downward because of its weight and now was permanently bent down and slightly on the left side because of his left ball which were bigger than the right one.

“Please…. Stop, thi… iis” Joey said as he could feel his throat starting to heat up shortly followed by his chin and whole face.  His features twisted in agony as his jaw sharpened, cheekbones rose, and his eyes tilted. “HHAAAAaaAaaAaaaAAaaa… UUUHHHHhhhhHHHhH “screamed Joey as his voice cracked and shattered mid-scream, shifting into a younger, melodic tone thick with a heavy Arabic accent. “MAkE iT stoP!!” Joey screamed one more time as his voice settled for a younger one.

Duncan’s own face hardened into something rugged and commanding, heavy stubble exploding across his jaw while a thick mustache appeared above his upper lip. “What is happening?!” he screamed as his voice dropped into a deep, authoritative baritone.

“You two already sound way more in character!” said the genie to himself as he could see the possibilities opening for both of his masters in front of his eyes, appearing and disappearing in the purple mist.

Joey was still crying in fear and pain, his knees still on the ground when he felt the heat coming back. “GOD NO, NOT AGAIN… PLEASE!!” the heat continued to climb and hike all around his tightened skin, leaving behind a rich golden-bronze hue, turning his skin into smooth coffee-toned perfection while Duncan’s deepened into a reddish sun-bronzed, powerful athletic glow. Joey was crying as he could see his transformed and tanned hands in front of him, no sound coming out of his mouth because even the sound of his voice was terrifying to him now. Creeping behind him, he heard the low baritone voice of the genie once again and felt chills running up his elongated spine. “Something is missing… I don’t see your character fully… But what is it…” the genie continued as Joey turned around trying to face him and thinking that maybe if he did, he would be able to beg him face to face to turn him back but when he did, he saw nothing except the purple void. “Found it!” he heard once again coming in front of him. Joey’s eyes opened wide as he saw the genie materialized in front of him and with the flick of his wrists, he felt his torn clothes disintegrate into glitter that swirled in the mist.

Joey was hoping to see the kind face he saw when the genie first appeared to them but all he saw was the manly face wearing a vicious smile. The genie opened his hands and Joey could feel pressure building in his dick. “What are you doing?” He asked shaking in fear of what was about to happen. “Please tell me, what are you do… AAAAHHHHHHH” The genie reached down and roughly seized Joey’s foreskin still covering the head of his enlarged new cock. Joey’s eyes widened in pure panic.

“No! No no no… IT’S GONNA BREAK, STOOOOO!!!” he screamed.

Duncan stared in horror and fear as he could hear the deep accented voice of someone echoing back to him, slightly muted by the mist hugging his modified body. He could feel his body continuing to spasm on its own without him having any control on it. He could feel his dick exhaling drops of precum with every heart beat, smashed against his hairy abs and leaking along his muscled thighs. The Genie turned his back to Joey and smiled as he saw Duncan was still lost in the haze of his hormones and sensations while continuing to tear on Joey’s foreskin. “I’m begging you… Please… Stop teari…”

SCRATCH With one flick of his wrist, the genie torn out the foreskin as it detached in a snapping motion, releasing Joey’s cock that flopped back down against his legs, pointing downwards. His cock head now fully uncovered and extremely sensitive as he could feel the particles of purple dust touching his extremely sensitive skin. Joey was crying in fear as he realized the pain was completely gone.in fact, in a couple of second, all sensations were gone. It felt like his nerves had been numbed by years of frictions and movements against his now hardened cock head. He looked down and realize a neatly crafted scar was circling the base of his cock head. He tilted his head back up to the genie as he watched the genie looking with a smile at the palm of his hand. “Why have you done that… What have you done to me…” Joey continued to ask in a febrile voice. The genie didn’t even look at him. He just continued to smile as he grabbed back his thick veiny cock in the palm of his left hand.

The Genie held the twitching piece of foreskin in his palm, exhaled a stream of purple smoke over it. The piece of foreskin started to levitate and rotate faster and faster in the palm of the genie. Joey could start to feel like his cock head was getting jerked off even though no one was touching it. The faster the foreskin went, the more he felt he was on the edge of cumming. Joey tilted his head back up with almost out of breath as he could feel the orgasm rushing to him and his mouth barely open to let his breathing flow out. The genie was looking at him and with a quick movement, he closes his hand on the foreskin. Joey could feel pressure building in his groin as it felt like he was getting jerked off faster and faster. Then as he was about to cum, his eyes starting to revolve inside his skull, the genie opened his hand again and all the sensations were gone, leaving Joey out of breath on the edge of orgasm. In the palm of his hand, the foreskin was gone, reformed as a shiny golden loop earing with a blue sapphire on it. Joey didn’t understand any of what happened, his brain still trying to function properly as it still was lacking oxygen from the forced edging session. “What was that… what have you… done… Where is it…” Joey asked out of breath but the genie never answered, he just snapped his fingers and suddenly the golden foreskin earing disappeared in shimmer. Instantly, Joey felt a pressure building on his left lobe as he could feel it heating up with a pinching sensation. joey was left flabbergasted, not understanding any of what just happened and what happened to his foreskin. He tried to look around, maybe catching his reflection in a shiny surface or something, but he didn’t see any of it. All he could feel was the cold wind on his numb cock head and the sensation of something dangling from his ear.

The Genie laughed softly, stroking his own massive erection. “I knew something was missing, master… now you look exactly like you should have, ready for your next big adventure.” The genie took a step back and snapped his fingers one more time. Both Duncan and Joey felt like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders and like they could breathe again for the first time since the mist invaded their lungs.

As the two men collapsed, gasping and twitching in their new bodies, their old clothes finished to dissolve away. They stood there naked and, on the ground, as they could see the mist starting to fall to the ground and with them changing the dusty attic into a new room. Something with white industrial lights handing from the rooves. Then tiles started to appear on the walls soon followed by the ancient wooden cabinets turned into metallic lockers covered with stickers and grim. as the mist finally reach their heads, new clothes started to shimmer into existence around their transformed bodies. A tight pair of black sport shorts for Duncan and a fitted V collar T-shirt with a black baseball hat. Then a pair of well used white trainers and high sport socks appeared on his bigger feet. On Joey, a white jockstrap appeared on his body, forcing his cock to look downwards again, now fully entrapped inside the cotton prison and almost nudging against his own ass hole. The pouch being extremely prominent. Then a pair of tight-fitting black soccer shoes appeared on his tanned musky feet as socks finished to materialized against his legs climbing up to his knees.

The Genie kept lazily stroking his enormous, throbbing cock, veins pulsing under his bronze fingers as he watched the two broken men on the floor. His smile widened with sadistic pleasure.

“Look at you both… already so pretty in your new skins.” He then grabbed Joey by his thick, dark hair and yanked his head forward. “Open up, stud. Time to taste your new reality.”

Joey tried to pull away, eyes wide with terror. “No! Please don’… I’m not… I won’t…!” But the Genie’s grip was iron. He slapped his heavy, leaking cock against Joey’s plump new lips, smearing sticky precum across them.

“That’s it… fight me. I love when masters start to realize I am the one holding the cards.” The Genie laughed, low and cruel, then forced the thick head past Joey’s resisting lips and deep into his mouth. Joey gagged violently, eyes watering as the massive shaft stretched his throat. The Genie held his head in place and began thrusting with slow, deliberate strokes, fucking his face with relish.

“Mmmph! Mmmghh!” Joey’s muffled screams vibrated around the Genie’s cock. Tears streamed down his bronzed cheeks as he choked and drooled.

The Genie groaned in pleasure and taunted him between thrusts. “Yes… just like that. Suck it, stud. This is what your exciting new life tastes like. Keep crying… I love how your throat squeezes when you panic.” He laughed again, deep and mocking, pushing even deeper until Joey’s nose pressed against his hairy musky shimmering pubes.

After several long, brutal minutes of face-fucking, the Genie’s balls tightened. “Here it comes, boy. Drink every drop like the good little whore you’ve always been.”

With a loud, satisfied roar, the Genie came hard. Thick, glowing ropes of purple-tinged cum flooded Joey’s mouth and throat. Joey thrashed, desperately trying to pull back, but the Genie held him firm while laughing in pure pleasure. “Swallow it all. That’s it… good boy.” Joey continued to resist, gasping for air as he could feel cum rushing directly in his stomach. A weird feeling invading his throat and mouth as it felt like his tongue was numbing a bit. After a couple of minutes frozen like that, the Genie slowly pull his still rock-hard cock free with a wet pop. Joey immediately tried to scream for help and gasping for air.

“Air, I need air…. Huuuuuuuuuu. I couldn’t breathe…” But the words that came out were completely different: “هواء، أحتاج إلى هواء... هووووو ...!” His eyes widened in pure panic. He clutched his throat, trying again. “What the fuck?! Why can’t I speak English?! WHAT THE FUCK!!” Only fluent, desperate Arabic poured out: “يا إلهي! لماذا لا أستطيع التحدث بالإنجليزية؟! يا إلهي!”.

No matter how hard he tried, English was completely gone. He kept repeating frantic Arabic pleas, voice cracking with rising hysteria.

“أرجوك… أعدوني! أنا لا أريد هذا!” (Please… change me back! I don’t want this!)

Duncan stared in the distance, his head still spinning and still feeling dizzy from the smoke leaving his older lungs, taking more time to regain his senses. “Joey? Are you ok? Where are you, where are we?! What happened to us...”

The Genie turned away from Joey’s sobbing of incomprehension. He took a look at Duncan and with a happy smile of work well done, he snapped his fingers.

Duncan suddenly gasped, clutching his head as memories began flashing violently before his eyes. Kelly smiling at him on their first date suddenly appeared clearly in front of his eyes, he felt like reliving this moment in the smallest detail but as his lips left her, he opened his eyes only to realize Kelly was now burning from his memories as in her place stood a very muscled Latino athlete looking at him with eyes full of admiration and hungriness. He couldn’t understand what happened or why that happened, suddenly he blinked and he was no longer on a bench in the park but instead in his living room with his computer on his laps, Kelly hugging him as they were planning their honeymoon, the house they wanted to buy, lazy Sunday mornings together… One by one they ignited and disintegrated. In their place, new memories flooded in with brutal clarity: the thrill of sneaking young athletes into hotel rooms during tournaments, the wet sound of tight asses stretching around his thick cock, the addictive taste of sweat and submission, the roar of stadium crowds mixed with moans in locker room showers.

“No… no, stop!” Duncan screamed, voice breaking.

“Kelly! Stop that please… KELLY!! I … I… Get out of my head! That’s not me… I’m not… I want to marry her… I love her… I… love her? Fuck… I love… her tight… No that’s not me, STOP IT!!! I love… his… ass? I LOVE FUCKING ASS!! NO Please… don’t…. do this…. Kelly… I love…” He fell to his knees as more of his old life was ripped away. The memory of proposing to Kelly burned to nothing and was replaced by the image of him balls-deep in a muscular exchange student after a late training session. Every time he tried to cling to who he was, another piece turned to ash. His personality was shifting, getting confidence, dominance, and an insatiable hunger for male bodies overwriting his old shy, settled nature.

“Please… I don’t want this… I’m Duncan, I’m not…” His resistance grew weaker as the new identity took root. Suddenly a new memory appeared in flashing color in front of his eyes, a new name appeared and engraved itself in his brain. Noah. He is Noah, he has always been and always will be. He is the coach, Noah. The traveler. The predator who lived for the next tight hole and the next victory.

The Genie watched with dark delight, lazily stroking himself again. “Welcome in your new life, master Duncan.”

The man who used to be Duncan, now fully Noah, stepped up as his manly hands caressed his hairy pecs, a dominant smile appearing on his cheeks as he took his first step into his new life, his cock rock hard and pressing against the front of his shorts, leaving nothing to imagination. He took another step and suddenly Joey heard the Snap echoing again. Suddenly, he felt his body starting to levitate from the wet musky tiled floor to the seat of a wooden bench that had seen thousands of athletic asses through the years. Joey tried to resist but his body was completely immobilizing by the purple magic controlling and positioning him, his legs then were positioned up, giving free access to his tight hole. Joey tried once again to scream for help but was still in incapacity to talk anything else then Arabic. He heard the genie laugh as he saw Duncan getting closer and closer to him, positioning himself between Joey’s forcibly spread legs.

His thick, veiny uncut cock throbbed angrily, already drooling precum onto the boy’s smooth, tight hole. Joey’s heart hammered in terror.

“Duncan, please don’t do this. We are friend, remember about Kelly. No don’t please, DON’T!!” he begged in fluent Arabic, voice shaking.

“أرجوك... هذا ليس أنت! أنا جوي! توقف!!!” (Please… this isn’t you! It's me, I’m Joey! Stop!).

Noah didn’t understand a word. He just grinned, spat on his cock, and pressed the fat, leaking head against Joey’s virgin entrance. With one brutal thrust, he forced half his massive length inside. Joey screamed, back arching off the bench as his hole was violently stretched open.

“AAAAAH! ألم! أرجوك توقف! إنه يؤلمني!” (It hurts! Please stop! It hurts so much!). Noah groaned in pleasure and kept pushing deeper, inch by thick inch, until his heavy balls rested against Joey’s ass. “Fuck… so goddamn tight. This Moroccan bitch was made for cock.”

Joey’s eyes rolled back as Noah started fucking him with long, powerful strokes, each one slamming harder than the last. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping skin filled the locker room. Joey’s heavy circumcised cock bounced uselessly against his abs, leaking despite his horror.

Suddenly, Joey noticed movement above them. The Genie hovered near the ceiling, lazily stroking his own enormous cock and watching with cruel delight. Their eyes met. The Genie smirked, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.

In that instant, the Genie’s form disappeared in shimmer. Then Joey saw from the corner of his eyes the air near the lockers next to the door starting to move and agitate. He then saw the genie’s silhouette appear and stated to melt and shrink, transforming into a tall, muscular young athlete with short black hair and a cocky grin. At the same moment, the locker room door swung open.

Captain Josh and four of his teammates walked in, already half-hard in their shorts thanks to the very intensive training and the overdose of testosterone and horniness running through their veins.

The newly-transformed Genie simply stepped forward and joined them, laughing with them all like he had always been a part of the group. No one else noticed anything strange and then even started to laugh back and talk like they truly know each other from years of practices and friendship.

“Coach! you already started without us?” Josh laughed loudly. “Look at Ahmed. Little slut can’t even wait.”

The players quickly stripped, tossing their clothes aside. Thick, hard cocks sprang free. Joey tried to plead with them, eyes wide with panic.

“أرجوكم، أتوسل إليكم، يجب أن تساعدوني. أنا لست أحمد، أنا جوي، لدي حبيبة وسأرزق بطفل قريبًا. أريد العودة إلى بيتي، ساعدوني، أرجوكم!!” (Please I’m begging you, you have to help me. I am not this Ahmed, I am Joey, I have a girlfriend and soon a baby boy. I want to go back home, Help me, please!!!).

The players just chuckled, not understanding a single word that came out of Joey’s mouth. One of them then took a step forward, his thick veiny cock in hand as he lazily jerked off. Joey opened tilted his head only to realize it was the genie now in the jock’s body. “أرجوك لا تفعل ذلك، لا أريد هذه الحياة، لم أتمنَّ ذلك... مممم ...” (Please don’t do that, I don’t want this life, I didn’t wish for that… mmMMMmmGGgMGgggGG) Joey couldn’t even finish his words as the genie grabbed Joey by the hair and shoved his thick cock straight into the boy’s pleading mouth, cutting off his words. “Shut the fuck up with that Arabic shit,” he laughed. “Good little cumdump doesn’t need to talk.”

Everyone roared with laughter as they surrounded him. “Let’s go guys, we have a tanned bitch to fuck!” Josh mocked while lining up his cock at Joey’s already-stuffed hole alongside Noah’s.

“Maybe you’ll start to pick some words up after taking so much American cream!”.

They descended on him without mercy. Noah and Josh double-penetrated his ass, stretching him brutally wide while two others took turns fucking his throat once the genie was done with him. Hands roamed over his sweat-slicked bronze body, slapping his ass, pinching his nipples, and constantly tugging on the golden earring. Every pull sent humiliating jolts of forced pleasure through his cock.

“Fucking perfect exchange student,” one player grunted as he hammered into Joey’s throat. “Came all the way from Morocco just to be our team bitch.”

“Bet his family would be so proud seeing him like this,” another laughed. “He truly lives his American dream!”

Joey could only sob and gag around the cocks in his mouth, tears streaming down his face. “مممغhhh— أرجوكم… أنا لست مثل هذا… أريد Cynthia… أريد طفلي…” (Please… I’m not like this… I want Cynthia… I want my baby…). None of them could understand him and they didn’t care. They just kept using him harder, rotating positions, filling every hole, painting his bronzed skin with sweat and spit.

After what felt like an eternity of relentless pounding, the Genie still wearing the jock identity saw that Joey was on the edge of losing himself, his cock played with like a joystick by the one currently fucking him. He felt like he was on the edge but never close enough so he could be forced to cum. The genie then grabbed the athlete that was hard fucking Joey by the shoulders and tapped his scapula as he asked for him to give him the space so he could finish inside the bitch. The athlete laughs and then took his cock out of Joey’s opened ass. “أرجوك... لا أستطيع فعل ذلك بعد الآن... أرجوك...” (Please… I can’t do …that, anymore… Please…). Once again, Joey was cut short as the genie got his mouth closer to his ear and murmured. “I hope you’ll enjoy your new life, Master!” Suddenly, he grabbed the earing between his calloused fingers and Joey felt like someone was directly playing with his cockhead and whole length. It felt like he was getting jerked off by the most delicate hand ever, it felt like he was getting sucked by the warmest mouth. His breath started to path faster and faster as he we slowly losing his sight, invaded by a pure feeling of pleasure. In front of his blurring vision, the genie smiled as he started to fuck him faster and faster, enjoying the view of Joey slowly losing his grip on reality and falling into dissociation. With one more thrust of his cock deep against Joey’s prostate and a pinch of the hearing, the genie came hard and deep inside Joey’s welcoming hole, and as he did, Joey felt the orgasm finally rushing past the point of no return as he could feel his length starting to contract and in an instant, starting to release the only trace of his Britannic DNA.

A devastating orgasm ripped through him. His circumcised cock exploded hands-free, shooting thick ropes of cum across his own chest and abs while every muscle in his body spasmed around the cocks buried inside him.

In that exact moment, his mind shattered and reformed.

Memories burned away in purple fire: the old house at Blackthorn Lake… the summers with Duncan… proposing to Cynthia… the ultrasound pictures of their unborn baby boy… nights at the bar dreaming of travel… all of it turned to ash. New memories flooded in to replace them, a sun-drenched childhood in Morocco, arriving in Huston at 21 as an exchange student, struggling with English, quickly discovering he was gay and addicted to getting fucked and used like the sextoy he truly was. The endless locker room sessions, the hotel rooms during away games, the thrill of being passed around by the team. He was Ahmed now. A 21-year-old power bottom who lived for cock, especially Coach Noah’s and his teammates’. English was hard for him, but his body spoke fluently.

When the orgasm finally faded, Ahmed blinked slowly, a slutty, satisfied grin spreading across his cum-covered face.

“Coach Noah…” he moaned in heavily accented English; voice hoarse but eager. “المزيد... مارس الجنس معي بقوة أكبر، من فضلك...”.

The players laughed and kept going, knowing their favorite cumdump was ready for another round.

Coach Noah was waiting behind them, his arms crossed as he felt his cock jump in anticipation knowing he would require a private session with Ahmed later on in his office. Only Ahmed and him.

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In the months that followed, Noah and Ahmed lived the exciting life full of travel and adventure they had wished for so desperately in that dusty attic.

They flew from city to city, country to country, following the demanding schedule of international university tournaments. New hotels every week. New locker rooms. New opponents, and new teammates, eager to celebrate victories deep into the night.

Noah’s powerful 6’3” body, thick with muscle and commanding presence, was everything Duncan had once dreamed of and more. He thrived as the dominant, respected coach who lived for the game… and for bending young athletes over whenever the mood struck him.

Ahmed, the 21-year-old Moroccan exchange student, had become the star attacking midfielder everyone wanted. He had gotten his degree in the form of a sports scholarship and was well on his way to making something of himself and his life, at least on the pitch and in the bedroom. His bronzed, athletic body and eager, talented hole made him the team’s favorite power bottom. He barely spoke English, but he didn’t need to. His body communicated perfectly.

Every night after training or matches, Ahmed found himself exactly where he now belonged: legs spread wide, moaning sluttily in Arabic and broken English as Coach Noah and the boys took turns wrecking him. The golden earring made from his former foreskin remained his most sensitive spot, one playful tug and he would cum hands-free, shaking and begging for more like the perfect cumdump he had become.

All that remained were sun-soaked memories of Morocco, the thrill of arriving in Huston, and the addictive rush of being passed around by his coach and teammates. He was happier than he had ever been, a gay, cock-hungry 21-year-old who lived for the next load and the next victory.

The wishes had been granted and they would finally live the lives they craved for.

They no longer remembered Cynthia and Kelly. They no longer remembered the baby and their bored lives. They no longer remembered Duncan, Joey, the attic, or the terrified man they used to be.

High above, safely tucked away in the ornate brass lamp that now rested on Coach Noah’s office desk, the Genie leaned back in his lamp with a contented sigh. Once known as Uncle Richard many decades ago, he had learned this lesson the hard way himself after wishing for a life full of magical adventures and being able to help people while having a long and joyful life full of pleasure and happy moments. Now he made sure others learned it too, slowly, thoroughly, and without mercy, one wish at the time.

Some dreams are better to be left in the past.

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Hello everyone!!

I hope you’re having an amazing day! This is the story you guys voted for, with a little twist from my side. I had a blast writing it, and I think this one might be one of my all-time favorites to this day.

Thank you so much to everybody who voted in the poll, and thank you so much to @bremenmask for sending me this ask. I really appreciated it, and I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

This story officially marks my first step into my thirties, and I hope they’ll be just as good as the previous decade. I want to thank all the friends I’ve made along this journey, and I can’t wait to meet new ones.

To everybody who has sent me kind messages, please know that even if I don’t reply to all of you, I read everything, and I love interacting with you as much as possible. So please continue to send me messages if you want to talk about ideas or simply if you feel lonely :)

A huge thank you as well to @mystrangetfs for his very useful help in brainstorming and putting this story together, especially for helping me create and find the pictures.

I can’t wait to hear your feedback, and I hope you’ll appreciate this story as much as I do.

Here’s to our 30s and to the rest of our lives.