In Genie Us by Glaze72 – Chapter 2: She Dreams of Gene Eh?

“I can see it,” she said, trying to keep her voice down, finally able to tell someone what had been seething in her mind for months. “See it like it’s already happened, like a car skidding on the ice, and there’s nothing the driver can do to keep it out of the ditch. She’ll marry Brad. And he will ruin her life. She’s only twenty-one. But she’s like damn near everyone else in this stupid fucking town. She’s convinced that the only thing a woman should do is get married and start popping out babies.

“So she’ll be pregnant before the honeymoon is over, if Brad can stay sober long enough to get his pecker up.” Her lips curled in a sneer. “And a mother at twenty-two. And then another one, probably, before the first one is out of diapers. So she’ll be chained at home while that shithead is running around on her, screwing anything that will hold still. By the time she actually wakes up and sees the truth about him, it will be too late to do anything but pick up the pieces and try to glue them back together. She’ll divorce him, if she’s got the sense the gods gave a gopher, and be a single mother with only a high-school education.” Her hand chopped at the air. “Can you imagine that, in this freaking town? What kind of job could she get that would give her a decent life?

“So she’ll scrape by, making do on food stamps and charity, everyone shaking their heads and sighing about what a pity it is that lovely little Allison messed up her life so badly. But no one is willing to do something now that would stop it. And eventually the two of us will drift apart, too. She’ll be an angry, bitter woman, hating what her life has turned into, and resenting everyone who managed to get out of this piss-ant town. Like me.

“I’m her only chance at something better. But not now. Not as I am. I have to be different, or she’ll never see me, never notice, and she’ll go along with what everyone thinks she should do until it’s too late. I have to stop it. I have to be a man.”

She halted, her chest heaving as she finished her impassion tirade. Gene blinked, something like compassion crossing his face.

“All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll help. But,” he said, raising his hand, cutting her off. “Not until after I explain a few things. And trust me. Djinn don’t give out unsolicited advice too often. Or for free.” A cruel smile curled those exquisitely chiseled lips. “It’s much more fun to watch mortals fuck things up. Because you people hardly ever think about the consequences of your wishes.”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

“So here’s the thing, sweetie,” Gene said, falling to the floor gracefully and crossing his legs. “Some things are harder than others, and I’m not just talking about my dick when I watch the Chippendale’s dancers, if you know what I mean. If all you wanted was a great big pile of gold and silver, with maybe some diamonds and rubies and emeralds thrown in, I could do that, no problem. Hell, you get taught that on the first day. Humans love being rich. And there’s so much precious metal lying around this planet that no one would notice when some of it moves into your basement. Cash money is even easier.” He flicked a hand. “It’s just paper. I could have a pile of Franklins in your bedroom in about thirty seconds, and no one would give them a second look when you spent them.

“So there’s wishes and then there’s wishes, if you get my drift. And some are a lot better than others. One man I served thought he was being clever, and wished for eternal happiness.”

“And?” Shanaya prompted.

“He was stoned to death. Because when you can’t stop grinning and laughing when your wife dies, people start to think that maybe you’re a murderer.” He cocked a brow. “See what I mean about consequences?

“Your wish isn’t as stupid as that. It only affects you. But what you’re talking about is a transformation of living flesh, a rewriting of your entire DNA. That sort of thing is hard. Your body remembers what it is supposed to be like, and it resists changes like that. So does the entire world, really, because you’re changing reality. And reality doesn’t like it when people fuck around with it. It fights back, and it plays dirty. If you don’t have an anchor, it’ll snap back to the way it was, just like a rubber band after you stretch it. You probably won’t take any permanent damage if that happens, but between you and me, it isn’t pleasant. Just ask the guy who wanted to have a pair of tits.” He snorted. “Weirdo.”

“An anchor?” Shanaya seized on the important word. “What kind of an anchor?”

“You have to convince the world that you’re actually a man. That reality was wrong, and that Shanaya Singh never existed.”

“How can I do that? How can I convince the entire universe that the…the male me is the real me?”

A smirk crossed those handsome features. “You don’t have to convince the whole world, I admit. Just a part. And sex is a really good way to do it.”

She blinked as the import of the genie’s words sank in. “So if you turn me into a guy, I have to have sex to stay that way?”

Gene nodded. “It’s not the only way. But it’s a really good way.”

“Who with?”

“Well, that blonde bimbo you’re drooling over would be a good start. How long have you known her? Even a mind as shallow as hers would have a hell of an effect on reality if you laid some metaphysical pipe with her, if you get my drift. Screw her, and she would be convinced you were a man. Because you would be, for her.”

She flushed angrily at his casual slur of her best friend, but she kept her mind on the important things. “How long would I have?”

Gene pursed his lips, looking at the ceiling. “A week. Ten days, tops. The good news is I haven’t done anything like this in a long time. So you’ve got me at the top of my game. I haven’t used up any of my power by creating a solid-gold mansion for you, or anything stupid like that. But ten days is as long as I can keep two realities running in parallel. After that, there will only be one. Either the one where you’re a woman,” he said, holding out one hand. “Or the one where you’re not.” He held out the other. He traced a pattern on the floor in front of him. “If you manage to anchor yourself to Allison, people will quickly forget Shanaya Singh ever existed.” His eyes rose, fixing her in an unblinking gaze. “Even you, eventually.

“Are you willing to do that? Because this piece of advice comes free, girlfriend. Even if you change reality, get sweet little Allison into bed, and achieve your heart’s desire, you might find out that what you have is not what you want. True love is rare. Are you willing to risk your very existence for a woman who has never shown the least bit of interest in you as a lover?”

Her chin rose. “She loves me. I love her. I’m just the wrong shape, is all.”

He snorted in disgust, though she thought she caught a hint of envy in his deep-set eyes. “Humans. Free will, the ability to make your own choices, and it still isn’t enough. You have to change your body and your sexual orientation chasing down a pipe dream.

“Fine.” He rose to his feet. “Have it your way. I’ll do it.”

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