For George, it had been a day unlike any other. Out of the ashes of one of the worst days of his life, in which he had been picked on, scolded, beaten up, and humiliated, sprung a new day that had quickly become the most joyous he had ever experienced.
He had found a magical Persian tar. When played correctly, it unleashed the essence of a sexual genie servant who was bonded to him for life. He had named her Dawn, after her striking pair of light blue eyes flecked with red and gold, which reminded George of a sunrise. The rest of her was just as beautiful. She had long and feathered honey-colored hair, a lithe and curvaceous body, and a disposition so enchanting that one would have trouble not melting into a puddle of hapless goo the moment she said hello. But for George, she seemed to have the opposite effect. When before he had felt meek and timid, he now felt stronger and livelier around her. After spending the day getting to know her, Dawn had revealed to him that she was in love with him. And magical bond or not, she always would be.
After many years of fear and self-loathing, this revelation had a great impact on George. He had never believed that anyone would ever love him. The hope that his bad days were behind him had broke him down. As Dawn hugged him tightly, years of pain seeped into the collar of her light blue pajama top. She had allowed him to feel safe, and their bond had grown even stronger.
Now that his life had turned a corner, George was emotionally exhausted, and not to mention physically thanks to the copious amounts of amazing sex. He felt like he needed a nap. But it was still mid afternoon, and he was worried that if he went to sleep again Dawn wouldn't be there when he awoke. Instead, he decided a nice leisurely movie would help him rejuvenate and allow him to spend more time with his dream girl. She agreed excitedly as it was to be her first cinematic experience.
"Why don't you pick," he offered.
She beamed at him and moved to the DVD collection next to the TV. George loved the way she bent and posed for him as she perused the collection. She would stand on her toes to reach the top of the shelf for some random box and then twist to show off the curve of her perfect butt and her graceful legs. "Hmmm, King Kong..." she said, "nah, too long." Then she knelt and thrust her ass into the air as she reached for another box, "Saw, eww gross." She continued through the collection being sure to give George all the best views of her delicious figure. She would make sure the outline of her perky breasts was visible even though she was facing away from him.
Eventually she found a movie that excited her and dived into George's lap to show him. "Harry Potter?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Please! It looks like fun," she gave him a sexy pout and bounced up and down, which did wonderful things to her braless tits.
"Okay, okay! Put it in."
She began to pull his cock out of his pants.
"The movie you little minx!"
"Darn, I thought I had you there," she laughed. She jumped off his lap and moved to the entertainment center. It took her a few minutes, but she figured out how the TV and DVD player worked and returned to George's lap.
As the movie played, Dawn watched in complete fascination. She would gasp and clap excitedly at Harry's victories, and boo his enemies. All the while she would bounce on George's lap as he wrapped his arms around her taut stomach. She was particularly fascinated by the wands. "Ooh, that is neat! I want a wand George!" she exclaimed.
She stopped bouncing as a sudden realization hit her, "Wait a second ... I DO have a wand." She crawled off of George's lap and pulled out his hardened cock. "8 and a half inches of pure mahogany," she said as she stroked him slowly.
George was only beginning to recover, but reached his full length in record time thanks to her expert ministrations. However, he was still a little sore from their previous encounter in which he had, almost literally, fucked her brains out. "Oh babe, I don't want to tell you to stop but..."
"Do not tell me then," she interrupted, "just relax and let me give you a little taste of what is in store for you for the rest of your life."
"But I'm still recovering from last time and I don't want you to miss the movie."
"I can do both. And besides," she flashed him a sexy grin, "you are always just one wish away from being ready."
He thought for a second, which wasn't easy at that particular moment, and said, "I wish to be completely rejuvenated so that I can enjoy a relaxing handjob from my beautiful girlfriend."
The tingle returned along with the flash of gold from her eyes. He felt completely refreshed and his cock seemed even harder then it had been before. She moved in close to kiss him and purred, "Mmm, you are so sweet. I am very lucky to have such a great guy as my boyfriend." She smiled happily, "I cannot believe I just called you that. You do not mind, do you George?"
"You know I don't. It's official now."
"Could you ... say it again?" she said sheepishly. Her eyes glistened from the light of the TV.
George could tell this meant a lot to her. He looked deep into her eyes and said, "Dawn, you are my wonderful, intelligent, beautiful girlfriend, and I am your ever-grateful and completely undeserving boyfriend."
Dawn leaned in to kiss him again and let it linger for while. She continued to stroke him slowly with both hands as her lips danced across his. George ran his fingers through her hair and caressed her cheek were he felt a little dampness. It wasn't a lot, but it made him feel really good to be able to make her that happy with so small a gesture. Then he thought that maybe it wasn't so small a thing. After all, it had meant so much to him just to hear her say three little words.
As they kissed, he thought about what it must be like for her to have to be prepared to be treated like a slave. He just couldn't think of her that way. If anything, he felt enslaved to her. It was a feeling he relished. He decided then that he wanted her as Dawn, not just his Genie; and that would mean she would have to find an identity outside of her need to gain his approval. He wanted her to love him because he deserved it, not because some Major Genie two-thousand years ago decided she would. It was a tall order, he had no idea how to go about it, but it was something that he felt very strongly about.
In any case, he wanted very much for her to know how much she mattered to him. He just couldn't think of the right words. He knew what he thought he should say, that he loved her too, but he still wasn't ready to say it. With nothing else on the tip of his tongue, except hers, he filed the thought away and let himself enjoy her attentions.
True to her word, she was able to watch the movie and give him a stellar handjob at the same time. She had produced a bottle of some gel-like substance out of thin air, and used it to keep him slick and cool. It was very slow and easy, unlike their previous encounters that day which had been explosions of passion, sweat, and screams. As she watched and stroked, she continued her youthfully exuberant exclamations at the movie. Whenever a character would perform a spell with a wand, she would use her "wand" to do the same thing.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" shouted the on-screen Ron.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" exclaimed Dawn, and the bottle of slick gel floated over to her so she could apply more to George's turgid shaft. The two broke down into hysterics.
After a little more than half-way through the film, George was on the verge of a large climax. Dawn paused the movie so that she could devote her complete attention to him. She knelt on the floor between his legs and continued her slow methodical movements. She looked directly into his eyes and he could see her own passion building up as well. It took him a moment to remember his wish that she feel any pleasure she gave him and realized that she was about to cum too. Still she stroked slowly, though she gripped his cock a little more tightly.
"Oh George," she said in a husky voice, "you make the best wishes."
Her lips trembled as she breathed ragged breaths. Her nipples poked through her shirt. She had a hard, glazed look about her. "Cum for me George," she said in almost a whisper, "Cum all over your girlfriend's face. Cover me with your cum."
He felt the steady rush of his orgasm pour through him. He grunted as long white ropes of his cum drenched her nose, chin, and lips. More coated her forehead and cheeks and dripped down in large gobs to the floor. She moaned loudly as her own climax overtook her. "Oh yes! Give it to me George! So much ... so much cum!" she yelled as she jacked him off.
George looked down at her lightly glazed face in awe, both of Dawn and her enthusiasm, and the size of his ejaculation. He couldn't remember ever cuming that much before. He watched her in silence as she caught her breath. Her breasts heaved in her light blue top. Once she regained control of herself she reached down underneath the waistband of her pajamas and dipped her fingers into her sopping pussy. She brought them up slowly to her face where she mixed them with his cum and sucked the mixture off her finger. "Thank ... thank you George," she said with a shudder.
"Um ... you're welcome, babe. Are you okay?"
Dawn continued to suck globs of his cum from her fingers, "Yes, but I think I may have something of sperm fetish." She giggled as she made more of a mess trying to clean herself up than George did messing her up. Eventually, she gave up trying to get it all before it dripped on the floor and summoned the magical washcloth to finish the job properly.
As Dawn cleaned George first and then herself, George asked, "Was that you or me?"
"You mean that impressive load? A combination really. Part of it was the fact that I am quite good at giving handjobs, another was the fact that you were fully rejuvenated and had been stimulated for a long time. But you have been giving me loads like this all day, this is just the first one you have actually seen."
George thought back and realized she was right. He had always cum inside her up to that point. "But I've never done that on my own," he said.
"Yes, well, you had never been with a woman before. Your body knows when it is alone. With a partner, our systems go into overdrive. Human systems do anyway. My systems are always turned up," she said with a saucy grin.
"Well, whatever the reason, that was amazing."
"Thank you very much, Hotstuff!" She jumped up onto his lap and leaned in to kiss him again.
But then he remembered that she had just been slurping down his cum like she was at a wine tasting and stopped her. "Whoa, whoa. First, I wish for both of us to be completely clean and refreshed so that we can enjoy the rest of this movie together. Like normal couples do, not sex crazed magical Genies and Masters."
Tingle. Flash. "Thank you! And phooey," she pouted.
"Hey, I said like normal couples. I think normal couples like to fool around a little during movies. Don't they?."
She nearly tackled him and kissed him with infectious enthusiasm. "This couple does!" she said when they finally broke from the kiss.
Eventually, they put the movie back on and actually managed to watch it the whole way through without any more wishes. Though that didn't prevent them from indulging in a few gropes, fondles, kisses, and embraces. George spent a good portion of the film sneaking grabs at her perfect breasts and butt while Dawn made half-hearted attempts at stopping him.
As the credits rolled all semblance of normalcy evaporated, and the pair dissolved into a sea of passionate tongue twisting. But after a while their kissing became slower and more tender. Dawn surprised him by finding a sensitive spot on his neck where she licked and sucked for bit. The sensations made George squirm and laugh. It wasn't until the DVD switched back to the title screen and replayed its theme song a few times that they stopped. George held her tightly as she lay on top of him and stroked the silky golden-brown hair that he loved so much. She scrunched her arms up between them and laid her head down on George's broad chest as she purred softly.
Finally, George asked, "So how did you like the movie?"
"It was great! It was a little preposterous, but so exciting! That's a fantasy story?" she asked as she turned to meet his eyes.
"Yep, there are bunch more in that series too. We can watch the rest sometime if you like."
She flashed him a heart stopping smile, "I would like that very much, as long as we can watch them together." She gave him another sweet peck on the lips. "I think fantasy might be my favorite type of story."
George suddenly had an idea that was too good to let go. "Dawn, come up to my room. I want to show you something."
She shivered slightly, "Ooh, goody."
The two made their way across the house towards the stairs. Normally such an activity would have been quite forgettable. But with Dawn involved, the simple act of moving from one place to another took a great deal of effort. She led him by the hands while she would periodically sneak flirtatious touches to his muscles and his cock. Even when she wasn't playfully nipping at him, George found it difficult to keep his hands off of her. Dawn went up the stairs first, giving George an unparalleled view of her delicious curves, barely hidden behind her light blue pajamas. Without thinking, George reached up, gripped her butt roughly, and kissed the small of her back. She feigned a gasp and turned around. She sat on a step a few higher then George, spread her legs, and pulled him on top of her, moaning lustfully as they started making out again.
While George was indeed ready for another round of passionate love-making, he had a gift for her that he was certain she would like that wasn't something he could wish for, and he was very excited to give it too her. At least as far as he could figure, he could only wish for something if it involved love or sex. What he had in mind was more cerebral. But despite his heroic attempts at disengaging from her delectable mouth, Dawn kept him entwined. With no other recourse, George wrapped one arm around her bare waist and swung her over his shoulder. She yelped and giggled and kicked her legs up and down as George carried her the rest of the way up the stairs.
As they entered his room, George slid Dawn off his shoulder until she was cradled in his arms. He then laid her down on his bed gently. She struggled to plant kisses on his face and neck all the while.
He laughed, "C'mon babe, I have a present for you."
"Really?" she squealed.
"Yeah. But sit right there. I need to do some digging first." Dawn gave him a look that seemed to say "huh," but she obeyed. She reclined on his bed, making sure to twist and bend in a way that would give him the best view of her body.
George stepped over a few piles of dirty clothes and almost tripped over the Persian tar which had been Dawn's home for more than two-thousand years. He picked it up and leaned it against the wall next to his guitar. The ivory carving at the top was still cracked wide up the center. George noticed that Dawn was watching him nervously as he handled the tar and then relaxed when she realized he was merely putting it away.
"Don't worry," he said, "I'm not going to put you back in your vessel."
Reassured, Dawn smiled and nodded. George moved to his closet and began tossing smelly clothes, shoes, and a few old action figures out of the way. As he worked he asked, "How did you fit in that thing anyway? Even being a gas it still would've been a tight fit."
She giggled a cute giggle, "I was not a gas George. I was raw potential. I was everything and nothing at the same time. You make it sound like I could fill a balloon."
"You are, at the very least, a force of nature. But seriously, were you hiding in a black hole or something?" he asked as he moved a large stack of comic books.
Dawn watched him very closely, periodically raising her eyebrows at the different items he produced from his seemingly bottomless closet. "Actually, I do not think I have been entirely clear about how a Genie's vessel works. You see, the tar was not the actual vessel itself. It is merely the doorway to the vessel. The actual vessel is a small demi-plane, a tiny universe completely serperate from your own, which is only accessible through the doorway's magic. Think of it like this: my vessel is a room with a locked door. This door can take on many forms, in this case, a tar. The key to this door can also take on many forms, in this case, a specific song."
"I get it ... I think. And if someone where to open the door to the vessel without the key..."
"That would be very difficult to do. First, the doorway is virtually indestructible and tamper proof to all but the most powerful beings, and I cannot even speculate as to who those beings would be. Secondly, even if they opened the door to the vessel, the magic of the vessel requires the key for the Genie's essence to be released. So they would go to a tremendous amount of trouble for nothing. They would find the vessel empty. The only exceptions that I know of are the Genie Kings and Major Genies."
George took in all that she said in quiet contemplation. The more he found out about Genies, the more he felt like he had won some kind of cosmic lottery. "So what is it like inside this little universe? Are there tons of pillows laying around a giant hookah, like in the TV shows?"
"Like I said before, it is difficult to explain logically. All I can really say with certainty is that I do not want to go back."
"Why is that?"
"Well, before, I was pure potential. I did not have a personality or emotions or even a body. There was everything, but nothing at the same time. Now that I am fully formed and self-aware, I am afraid that I would be very lonely inside all by myself. I would not be aware of anything going on outside the vessel and I would be afraid that the vessel may never be opened again. And ... it is the only place where I could not feel you."
George paused his rummaging and sat back on his knees. He felt a sudden twinge in his heart at her mention of being lonely. Loneliness was a feeling he knew well. Dawn kept talking.
"Of course, I would go back inside if you wished it. And if someone else somehow managed to open the vessel with me inside, I would still belong to you. It is just that..."
"I won't ever make that wish," he said very sternly, "you're never going back into your vessel." He looked over his shoulder at her, "Understand?"
"Y ... yes Master. I did not mean to imply that you would. I mean ... it would be acceptable if you felt it necessary. I am sorry," she lowered her head in shame.
George was slightly alarmed at the honorific. He had never been prone to outbursts of any extreme emotion. The memories of his old life, the life before Dawn, had created a fatherly need in him to protect her. But he realized it had come out sounding like a dog owner yanking something out of a young pup's mouth. He felt terrible for his sudden lack of tact.
He sighed heavily and said, "I didn't mean it like that Dawn. That was rude and uncalled for. I got carried away. What I meant to say was that I wouldn't do that to you, not after what you've given me, and certainly not after ... forgive me?"
Their eyes locked. Understanding and grace filled her countenance. "There is no need, George. You were remembering what it was like to be lonely, and you took a stand against it, not me. I am proud of you actually."
"Yeah, well, I still feel bad. Don't really know where that came from."
Dawn shrugged, "It is fine George, I still love you."
His stomach did two back flips, "I um ... I..." he stammered.
"You were going to give me a present," she said happily.
He smiled, knowing that she let him dodge the bullet. "Yes indeed," he said with enthusiasm, "sorry that it's taking me so long. It's been a while since I've actually used any of them."
She clapped her hands together excitedly, "You mean there is more than one?"
"You'll see," he said slyly.
Finally, he had cleared the debris from around his gift. "Okay, Dawn, close your eyes. And no peeking."
She smiled knowingly at him and shut her eyes. George had no idea that the act of closing one's eyes could be so sexy, but then he thought that Dawn could be wearing a HAZ-MAT suit and still look sexy. She reclined on his bed and waited patiently for her next command.
George walked over to her and picked her up carefully. Without any prompting, she leaned her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes still relaxed and closed. He could almost feel the warmth of her smile.
He carried her over to his closet, set Dawn on her feet, and guided her to her knees in front of a wooden, knobby, waist high bookcase completely filled end to end with small paperback books. Creases along the spines indicated that they had been read several times over.
"Okay, open your eyes," he said quietly.
She did so slowly and examined the bookcase. George stayed quiet as she took in the site before her. "These ... these are stories."
"Fantasy stories," corrected George. "This is my collection, all my favorites. Whenever I was feeling down I would lose myself in a book for a while until the feeling passed. I used to imagine myself as the heroes in the stories, slaying dragons and saving maidens and whatnot. It would make me feel better, for a little while at least."
"Why did you stop," her voice was filled with awe.
"I started to believe that nobody in the real world really thought that way. I would read a story that had inspired me when I was a kid, but when I compared it to my own experience, things just didn't add up. Good and evil are never that absolute. Love stories are never that simple. Friendships never last that long. It started to make me feel even worse when I kept trying to hang on to those ideas and everyone thought I was stupid."
He sighed heavily once more, his eyes downcast. "No, that's not true," he said sadly. "I gave up. I just, stopped trying. I guess I thought the maidens would rather date the dragons then be saved by me.
But now that I have you, I know that I was wrong. A lot of what I am, a lot of what I hoped to be, is in those books. They taught me about myself. It's why I know what friendship is even though I don't have any friends. It's how I know that if you love me like you say you do, then I should try to be worthy of it. It's how I know that I don't want you to be my slave, but my equal."
George held her. "Dawn, you made me realize how important these are to me. And now I want you to have them."
"You mean, you are giving them all, to me?" she asked wide-eyed.
"On one condition. When you read them, I want you to think about what the stories mean to you, not just what it means to me that you are reading them. I want you to enjoy them, or hate them, because it is what you feel."
Dawn wore a look of unabashed wonderment as she ran her index finger along the spines of the books. She stopped at a familiar title and pulled the book free. It was the book version of the movie they had just watched. She stared at the cover lovingly.
He continued, "I know they are just books, but when I saw how much you liked the movie I thought you might enjoy the real thing. And who knows, maybe you'll find something in those books that will teach you something about yourself, just like they did for me."
She hugged the book tight across her chest and said, "They are not just books. They are you." She looked up at him, her beautiful dawn colored eyes glistened, "I will take very good care of them."
George leaned in and kissed her forehead, "I know you will."
Feeling very good about himself, George thought he should leave her be for the moment so that she could explore her gift more completely. He stood up and surveyed the devastation in his room. Unlike the mess in the kitchen, this one was completely his own doing. Even before he had emptied his closet to clear a path to the bookcase, the place had looked like a war-zone, with old action figures acting like generals directing their armies of books over mountains of dirty clothing. Now it looked like the proverbial bomb had gone off. He had resolved to give the place a thorough scrubbing when he heard Dawn's voice behind him.
"George," she said in her now familiar sultry tone, "I have a gift for you too."
George turned around and almost choked on his tongue at what he saw. Dawn was at the entrance to his closet dressed in an almost perfect recreation of a Hogwart's uniform. It was made even more perfect thanks to the alterations she made. Rather than looking frumpy, the costume was cut to hug every inch of her perfect body. Her long shapely legs were made even more so thanks to a pair of black pumps and white knee high stockings. The skirt was definitely much shorter than any respectable witch would have worn, stopping just before her lightly tanned mid thigh. Her blouse acted more like a corset than a blouse and pushed her large perky breasts up higher then usual. With the top few buttons undone, the view was mesmerizing. Rather than a cloak, she wore a long silk scarf that blended blue, red, and gold in horizontal bands up its length. It flowed in two long tendrils down her back. Her skirt and tie matched the scarf's colors, although the tie looked quite comical nestled uselessly in her cleavage. All told, George thought she looked dazzling and his throbbing cock poked noticeably against his sweat pants in response. He stood their dazed with his mouth open.
"You like?" Dawn asked as she pranced around in a tight circle to give him all the best views. Her scarf twirled around her in graceful swirls. Her pleated skirt flared up and George caught sight of her white panties.
George tried to say, "Ohmyfuckingodyes!" But what he actually said came out even less coherent than that.
Dawn gave him a heavenly laugh and said, "I will assume that was an affirmative."
George nodded dumbly.
"But this is not the complete extent of my gift. How would you like to go there?"
"Where? Too Hogwart's?"
"You can do that?"
"With a wish, Yes. I said before that I could create fantasies for you without limit. The only stipulation would be that there would have to be sex involved."
"Oh, darn," he said jokingly.
She laughed again. "I have to warn you though, while you are in the fantasy, time will pass in the real world. An hour in a fantasy would amount to roughly an hour in our world. Of course, as your mastery of my powers grows, and your confidence in yourself grows, that ratio would change in your favor. Also, there is a limit on the amount of time you can spend in a fantasy. You opened my vessel just under 18 hours ago, so you have accrued 18 hours of fantasy time."
"Okay, I don't want to stay there for a full 18 hours. Maybe an hour or two would suffice."
"That should be fine. Right now you can experience a single fantasy up to six hours long, but again, that should get longer as we spend more time together and the more confidant you become. Oh, and you cannot experience more than one fantasy in any 24 hour period, to prevent you from spending too much time in a fantasy world."
"This is one of those weird Genie rules isn't it?"
"Yes, sorry George. It was put in place long ago, because a few Masters refused to deal with the real world and retreated completely into their fantasies. These Masters were powerful men with tremendous responsibility. Trapping themselves in a fantasy was not healthy for anyone. It is something I do not have a control over."
Despite his limitations, George was very excited about the prospect of living out the fantasies from his books, "So, if I wished to fight some orcs and then make love to you dressed up like an elf for six hours, you could do that?"
Tingle. She smiled happily and said, "Yes, that would be fine. That sounds like a lot of fun actually. And I wouldn't really be dressed up like an elf, I would be an elf. However, for any fantasy I would need to have a basic script of events and any other details you feel are important."
"Well right now I am feeling inspired by your 'uniform'. What do I need to do?"
She leaned in and rubbed his erection lightly through his pants. She bit her lip as she said softly, "Why don't you get comfortable, and then you can tell me what you dream about. Then, I will make your dream come true." She had that look in her eye that George had come to recognize as her unbridled affection.
George felt a little weak-kneed as she pulled him down low enough so that she could kiss him deeply as she continued to caress his member. She pushed him backwards lightly until he hit the bed and fell backwards, pulling her on top of him. His stomach did three back flips.
She straddled him, "So George, are you comfortable yet?" she asked.
"I don't think I've ever felt so comfortable being so uncomfortable in my entire life," he said breathlessly in between kisses.
"Then would Master like to be less comfortable?"
He just grunted in confirmation.
Without her moving from their kiss, George felt his pants slide down and his hard cock enter her slick warm tunnel. She didn't ride him so much as milk him. He could feel her walls slowly pulse and pull and tighten around him. The thought occurred to him that her panties should have been in the way, but quickly dismissed it when he remembered she was genie. He thought she could probably still be wearing her panties and just make them immaterial or something. He swooned as he imagined the lengths that Dawn could and probably would go just to fuck him.
Over the next half-hour, George relayed to Dawn a fantasy that been swimming in his head for a while. Dawn continued her slow milking, increasing her intensity as George relayed some of the more lurid details. He had been resisting the urge to reach up and play with his most favorite pair of breasts in the whole world because he didn't want to mess up her uniform. But he couldn't hold back as their mutual orgasm approached. She feigned indignation as her tie and blouse were hopelessly disheveled by George's large hands, but the sensations quickly melted her coherence. Even as big as George's hands were, the flesh of her breasts overflowed and spilled out between his thick fingers. Minutes later, they both finished riding out the crests of their equally earth-shattering orgasms.
The script was eventually decided upon. But then George realized that quite a bit of the tension would require him not realizing it was a fantasy. He related his fears to Dawn. "If you would prefer George, I can make you believe the fantasy completely as long as you are inside it. Once you return you will have all of your memories intact."
"Problem solved. So what do I do now?"
"Just lay back and close your eyes. I will do the rest. I will see you again in one and one half hours, as we agreed."
"Wait. Aren't you coming with?" he asked.
"I can observe if you wish."
"Can't you, ya know, participate?"
"Of course, George."
"Well, do you want to go?"
"If Master wishes it."
"No, no. I mean, does Dawn want to go? The person, not the Genie?"
"More than anything," she replied wistfully.
"So why didn't you just say so?"
"I did not want to presume you wanted me thus."
"I do, thus. Besides the fact that I want you around me all the time, this is as much your idea as it is mine. You have to be there."
She brightened, "Okay, do you wish me to observe, or would you like me involved more ... intimately?"
"Well, since you are the girl of my dreams, why don't you be the girl in the fantasy. Can you alter your memories like you can mine, so that you believe it too?"
"Yes and no, I cannot make the Genie side of me believe it, because it needs to monitor and guide the fantasy. But the Dawn part of me can believe it if you would like her too."
"What would you like?"
She looked into his eyes and replied, "I would like to be where my master is so that he may continue to see me as the girl of his dreams."
"Is that the Genie talking, or Dawn?"
"Both," she whispered.
Professor Malak Graves rushed briskly through the grounds of Goose Pimple's University in a desperate attempt to get to his next appointment on time. He had only been teaching advanced dueling for a semester and already the complaints of his sour attitude and perpetual lateness was putting him on cold terms with the Headmistress. He nodded curtly as he passed several students and rounded a corridor towards his office.
Prof. Graves was very young to be teaching such an advanced course at one of the oldest and most prestigious wizarding universities in America, but his talent and style were undeniable. He had never had any formal education himself, growing up on the magical streets, picking up whatever bit of magic he could use to help him survive. But after helping the authorities break up several groups dedicated to the dark arts by working undercover, he had proved to all that he was both powerful and trustworthy, if a little severe. However, he was having trouble keeping to his schedule while following the Headmistress' incessant demands.
He had gained a reputation as something of a maverick on campus. He was not much older than most of the students attending the school, and he tended to have more in common with them then the stuffy old witches and wizards who taught the other classes. He had a prickly exterior persona most of the time, but those who got to know him found him dedicated and very protective of his students. While most wizarding folk were either skinny or portly, Malak was thick and hard thanks to his less cushy upbringing.
Most of his students greatly enjoyed his classes because Malak had a complete aversion to books and lectures. Rather than a black board, Prof. Graves had an arena filled will all sorts of devious surprises. And instead of theorys and proofs, he focused on the practical aspects of casting spells and the subtle tricks that could keep one alive in a desperate situation. His favorite trick, and specialty, was silent spells. He could cast most spells without any words or flourishes so long as he had his wand somewhere on his person. It was a talent he had not shared with his superiors or his students out of the habit of wanting an ace up this sleeve. Most times, this is where he kept his wand, hidden away for times of crisis.
He reached his office on the 852nd floor of the northwest tower just in time to hear the clock tower boom four times. He was relieved to see that his appointment was running slightly late. He couldn't afford any more lapses in professionalism that semester. He was to meet with a young exchange student from across the pond, who was having trouble with a certain jinx that she just couldn't seem to defend herself against no matter how hard she tried. He had put this meeting off several times, dismissing it as trivial. How could a student at one of the best wizarding schools in the world be having trouble with such a ridiculously simple spell? But the Headmistress had explained to him in no uncertain terms that his job depended on this meeting.
Prof. Graves hung up his formal black school cloak, revealing a white, partially unbuttoned business shirt. He was trying to organize his stacks of parchment lying haphazardly about his desk, when he heard a tiny knock at the door to his office. "It's open," he said shortly.
He heard someone enter, but did not look up. He heard a young woman's voice say, "H-hello Professor." She spoke with a very sweet and sexy British accent.
"Yes. Sit down. You must be miss Honeywell. I underst..." he stopped as he caught sight of the honey haired goddess. She was dressed in the standard GPU uniform, though it seemed much too small for her and her bountiful curves. She pushed her blouse to its limits both in terms of decorum and functionality. Her skirt was entirely too short to cover her toned dancer's legs and he could clearly see her white panties as she struggled in vain to cover herself while she sat cross-legged in the chair opposite from him.
He caught himself gawking, though she didn't seem to notice as she fumbled about her uniform, trying to make it fit properly. He continued, " ... understand that you have been having trouble with a clotho reducto jinx."
"Yes professor," she said shyly.
"You do know there is a counter jinx to this spell, yes?"
"Yes professor, but every time I try to cast it, the jinx just intensifies. I've ruined three uniforms already, and whenever I try to put on something different it changes to look like this." she said, her voice filled with exasperation.
"Interesting," said Malak intrigued, "well stand up, I had better be sure that you haven't just been casting the spell incorrectly. These things do happen sometimes." He rose, and motioned with his wand for her to stand next to his desk.
She moved with seemingly unconscious grace to stand before him. She had a delicate a sultry way of moving, but Malak was fairly certain by her square framed glasses and nervous attempts to cover her legs that she was not comfortable walking around in such a revealing state. He couldn't help remarking to himself how sexy she was. Her not realizing it was just adding another level to his arousal.
"Clotho Enlargum," said Malak firmly with a simple flourish from his wand. True to her word, the uniform shrunk and tightened even more until the buttons from her blouse burst and shot across the room, revealing her unbelievably gorgeous melons lifted and restrained unnecessarily in a white seamless bra. Her skirt was just an inch long.
"You see Professor?" she cried as she tried to cover herself with too few appendages. She unconsciously palmed her right breast.
Malak could clearly see her hard nipples poking through the undergarment. Her cheeks appeared rosy and flushed. "Hmmm," he thought out loud. "I don't mean to alarm you, but this could be very serious Ms. Honeywell."
"Oh no! I'm cursed aren't I?" she asked nearly in tears.
"I need to try a few things to be sure. I am going to cast another spell. This one is a counter hex, if I'm correct then your clothes shall reduce even further. If that's the case, I'll then try a counter curse. I want you to be prepared Ms. Honeywell, if I'm right, you may very well be completely naked by the time I'm done."
Her face scrunched up in anguish, "Are you sure we need to do this Professor? I mean ... if my dad found out that I've been cursed, he would ship me back home faster then you could say unforgivable."
"The alternative is that your clothing will continue to reduce until anything you wear will appear as nothing at all. I'm sure you don't want that."
"Well ... no."
"Then this must be done. It is the only way I can know for sure."
She didn't look happy about her options and hesitated while she worked through any possible way out she may have overlooked. All the while she rubbed her thighs together and continued to fondle herself. Malak truly felt bad for her. If he was right, then she had been afflicted with a very old and difficult to break curse. It had gone by many names over the centuries, but the current street name for it was "the heat".
"Listen, Ms. Honeywell, I know that you must be slightly mortified at the moment. You have not been in any of my classes so you may not know this, but my students come first. If you would prefer me to keep your condition a secret, I will make an unbreakable vow to do so. But you must understand that this isn't going to wear off on its own. It must be dealt with."
Y, yes Professor," she said, her eyes downcast in resignation of her fate. "And Professor, thank you for ... for your help."
"Thank me after we've gotten rid of this thing. Are you ready?"
She stopped trying to cover herself and balled her hands into tight fists, "I'm ready."
Malak cast his counter hex. Her blouse and skirt almost disappeared and her bra and panties tightened, mashing her jugs up even higher. She moaned in arousal and embarrassment. He cast his counter curse and the bra snapped open in the front allowing her large breasts to spill out. Immediately, she reached up to tug at the pretty dark pink nipples and collapsed to her knees in front of him. She writhed and moaned as a puddle of her juices formed underneath her.
He was now certain of his diagnosis. "Ms. Honeywell, I am afraid that I was correct. You have been afflicted with what is known as the heat. It starts out by tweaking your clothing to make you look more appealing to those you are attracted to."
"Why ... why am I so ... horny right now!" she blurted out in between ragged breaths.
That's the second part of the curse, it increases your arousal the closer you get to the objects of your affection. There must be someone close by who you have feelings for. From what I understand, the stronger the feelings you have for this person the more intense the arousal. It intensifies even further if the wrong counterspells are used on the victim. The only way to stop it that I know of is to orgasm."
"O-Okay, " she managed as she nervously reached down beneath her ripped panties and began to rub her swollen clit.
Malak thought he should leave her alone for a minute so that she could bring herself under control and moved towards the door to his office.
She stopped him, "No! Wait, please! Please help me Professor! I-I need you!"
Without thinking, Malak rushed to her side, "What is it girl?"
"I-I can't do it ... on my own ... anymore!" She reached for the outline of his engorged cock through his trousers, "Please! Please fuck me!"
Malak was horrified. The curse had already progressed to its 3rd stage. Now the only way she could satisfy her cravings was to be satisfied by another. But in order for her to be at this stage of the curse, she would've had to have been cursed weeks ago. This was going to make the task of uncurseing her much more complicated.
But before he could begin tracking down the source, he had to help the poor girl orgasm. If he didn't then she would quickly go insane with lust and the curse would become permanent. Then she would run through the streets fucking anything that moved just so she could get a temporary release. It was a devious and evil curse that Dark wizards sometimes cast on their enemies to make sexual slaves out of them.
He helped her to her feet and guided her over to his desk. He laid her down face up, spread her legs wide, and ripped her panties off so that he had clean access to her hot pussy. He reached out and brushed her clit lightly. She cried out in ecstasy as he rubbed the swollen nub. "At least she should cum quickly," he thought. He leaned forward and licked her pussy with abandon. He reasoned that the more vigorous he was the quicker it would be over for her.
As he expected, she didn't last long against his assaults. She came within a minute of his furious tongue lashing. She cried out as the pleasure surged through her. She panted and moaned as she tweaked her hard nipples.
Malak rose, fully expecting her to be angry with him for taking advantage of her. Even though she had asked for it, she had been under the effects of the curse and probably didn't even know who he was anymore when she had begged him to fuck her. But she wasn't angry or pleased, she was still writhing and moaning. Her orgasm had not sated her lust. It was even worse then he originally feared.
"P-Professor! F-fuck me!" she screamed even louder than before. It was a good thing that his office was protected from scrying.
He reached down to grab her face and look into her eyes. He had to get through to her quickly. "Ms. Honeywell, you have progressed to stage four! This is the final stage before the curse becomes permanent! You need to receive a load of sperm from the person who is causing your arousal and fast! Tell me who it is! Now!"
She was glazed and delirious. Her eyes began to roll back into her head.
"Tell me now Girl!" he yelled as he lightly smacked her cheek to get her attention.
"Y-you Professor! I want you! I've wanted you since ... since I first saw you!" she cried.
Malak was floored but he had no time to take in what that meant. On a practical level, this made halting her imminent insanity a much simpler task. He hadn't a moment to waste. He flung off his trousers and positioned his cock at her steaming entrance. He pushed in and she gasped in extreme pleasure.
She was hot and tight, but so slick with her own juices that even with the great thickness of his cock, pistoning in and out of her was effortless and quite pleasurable. So much the better for him. He needed to get off quickly if he was going to save her.
He fucked her recklessly and with abandon. He had always been a tit man himself, so he reached up and took hold of her large perky breasts. The feeling of her tits mashing around his fingers was incredible. She continued to moan and scream as she came again and again. Malak could see her eyes water and roll back; he knew he didn't have long.
Finally, he felt himself round the corner. He knew he would need to cum in her mouth as it was the fastest way to get it into her system, but he also knew it would have to be a large load if it was going to have any effect at all. He silently cast a fertility spell that would allow him to give her enough semen to stave off her insanity for at least a little while.
He pulled out of her and she groaned. He moved to the other side of the desk where her head had been hanging off and stuffed his cock into her drooling mouth. He came almost immediately. Her eyes went wide as her cheeks billowed out. Some escaped her tight seal around his cock and dribbled down her face. But she instinctively gulped it down until she swallowed as much as Malak could give her.
The tide receded and Malak backed away from her. He had done all he could, now he had to wait to see if she would come back from the brink. He walked over to a trunk behind his desk, and after rummaging through it for a minute, found an ever-clean towel. He cleaned himself with it and then placed it neatly next to Ms. Honeywell, who was now moaning much more softly than before. She was almost wheezing and her whole body glistened with sweat. He put his trousers back on, walked over to the door, and faced it to wait for her to collect herself. He fully expected her to lash out at him; she would probably tell the headmistress and get him sacked. He was fine with that as long as she was OK, but he still needed to find the person who cursed her and get them to cast the proper counter curse.
Her ragged breathing finally went back to normal and Malak could hear her using the towel to wipe down her fairly slimy body.
"Ms. Honeywell," said Malak in his teacher voice, "if you go to the cloak rack next to my desk you will find a white satin robe. It is specially enchanted to resist spells of all sorts. It should relieve your clothing problem for the time being."
He heard her walk on shaky legs over to the cloak rack. After finding the robe he was talking about, she put it on. "It isn't changing! Oh thank Harry!" she squealed.
"Are you decent?" he asked shortly.
"Y-yes," she said, her voice shaking a little.
Malak turned around to face her and took in a sharp breath. Even with her hair being a bit out of sorts and her glasses tilted, the robe made her look almost like an angel.
"You must now see the severity of this curse Ms. Honeywell."
"I promise to do everything I can to free you from it, but it will take time. Since you are now at stage four, time is something of which we have precious little. To keep you from losing yourself I will talk to Professor Applebottom in Potions and see about making you a tonic that will stave off your cravings. Once that is done, I will begin tracking down your attacker."
"What if ... what if I don't want the cravings to stop?" she said quietly.
"I don't understand," said Malak.
She walked towards him quickly but still shaky and hugged him fiercely. "Would it be OK if I come to you when the craving comes back?"
Malak was not expecting this. While she was locked in her embrace, he was confused about what to do with his now awkward limbs. "Ms. Honeywell..."
"Please call my Shayla."
"OK ... Shayla, what do you mean you don't want the cravings to stop?"
"I'm sorry Professor, it is just that ... I've always thought you were cute. And when I heard how great a wizard you were from the other girls I just ... I started to fantasize about you and me, together."
"M-Ms. Honey ... Shayla, I am a teacher here. I can't get involved with a student."
"Oh! I think I feel another craving coming on," she fondled his rapidly recovering erection through his trousers. "Please help me," she said as she dropped to her knees and pulled his cock free.
Malak couldn't stop her as she bobbed up and down until he was a full length again. She looked up at him, "Do you have any of that potion handy Professor?"
"N-not yet," he stammered
"Then you had better give me another big dose before I lose myself Professor," she winked at him and went back to her rapid bobbing.
Malak was sure that the headmistress would find out about this somehow, but his reason was being sucked out of him. Without any more worry, and thanks to a few more well placed silent fertility spells, Malak was able to give Shayla many more doses, to stave off the cravings of course.
George awakened with a start as his mind rearranged itself. He could feel the consciousness of Prof. Malak Graves leaving him and his own being reinserted. The feeling was quite disconcerting as there was a brief moment in which he wasn't sure which person he was. But the feeling quickly passed and George was his old self again, only now he had an amazing new experience in his head so vivid, that he could remember ever sight, sound, and sensation in the greatest detail. He looked down and noticed his sweatpants were hopelessly soiled.
From his right he heard the throaty breaths that George recognized as Dawn's post-coital fallout. He looked over at her, she was fanning her flushed face with her hand. Her uniform was hanging off her body in strange places. For instance, her scarf had wound its way around her left thigh and calf, her shoes were gone, one of her stockings was balled up near her ankle, and he wasn't sure but he thought he saw her panties around her shoulder. She was sweaty and the sheets by her sex were slightly damp. The whole room smelled like a mixture of dirty clothes, horny genie, and Dawn's sweet tea like scent.
"George, I think you are going to be a very interesting Master," she said half giggling.
"Well before I met you, I spent a great deal of time coming up with lots of perverted nerd-core fantasies," he rolled over so that he could hug her as he lay there, "did I go overboard?"
"You can never go overboard with me George. Did you have fun?"
"It was amazing, but..."
"Oh no, did I not form the fantasy correctly?" she looked genuinely worried.
"No, no. You did great. It was everything I asked for. What I realized was that since all we did was have sex we didn't really get a chance to walk around and see all the magical things. I think next time, you and I will be ourselves but we'll take a tour of Hogwarts, have a feast in the great hall, and then make some magic of our own somewhere. Sound good?"
Her eyes went wide and she turned giddy with excitement, "That sounds amazing! We can christen all the rooms! Oh, what should I wear?"
"Whoa, before we do that, can I say thank you and give you kiss and maybe treat you to some food?"
She moved a delicate finger to her pouty lips and looked up like she was thinking very hard, then said in resignation, "Hmmm, I suppose that would be alright."
George took her hand gently away from her mouth and pinned it against the mattress. Dawn wore a surprised look for a moment before she looked into his eyes and saw the emotion behind them. Her expression then changed to lustful anticipation. He leaned in and kissed her softly and sweetly on her cheek. Then, he moved deliberately to her other cheek, and repeated. He kissed her forehead, and her nose, and then her lips. He only barely used his tongue as he let his lips slowly caress hers. He had only been kissing her for less then a day, but he felt this was a better way of showing her how he felt than any words he knew. He wanted his true affection for her to flow through his being and mix with hers. His mind and body no longer felt like they were his own anymore. In the spaces where before there was nothing, now there was Dawn, holding him together. He felt like the universe had suddenly opened up to him.
Below him, Dawn moaned softly and struggled a little against George's restraints. She rubbed her thighs together and tried to get George to take more of her. But George held her back and continued his loving kiss.
After either seconds or years, George couldn't tell which, he pulled away. He let go of her wrist and brought his large hand to her face where he brushed a strand of hair away. He then caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Thank you Dawn," he said quietly, "thank you for the best day of my life."
Dawn melted and gave George her heavenly gaze. She reached up to hold his hand, it took both of hers to fill up just one of his, and kissed it like it was a child's favorite stuffed animal. "Are you real," she whispered, "or are you a dream?"
"I don't know anymore. And I don't care, so long as you're with me."
"I am," she said.
After a quick wish to be clean and comfortable so that they could have dinner together, George thought it would be nice to eat in his room where they could listen to some music. Dawn was back in her sky blue pajamas and looked as peppy as ever. George was hungry and tired after the wringer his body and soul had been put through. He heated up the food from Walt's and served it up for them in his room. After a quick explanation of the menu, Dawn dove into her soup like it was a swimming pool and burned her mouth. After a few seconds of desperate fanning, George wished for her mouth to be fine so that he could kiss her. Tingle, flash. The burning was gone and she quickly shoved her tongue down his throat.
"Hey Dawn, what is that tingling in my head every time I wish for something?"
"Oh, sorry, I probably should have explained that earlier. You see, in order for me to grant you the wish that you actually intend, I have been created to pull the definitions, desires, and perceptions of your wishes, from your mind."
"So you are reading my thoughts?"
"No, that would be an invasion of your privacy and I would not do so unless you wished it. I am only reading what is relevant to your wishes. For instance, I know what, um, "fucking my brains out" means to me," she blushed, "and what it means on its own, but I took that meaning from you since it was your wish. I can stop if you prefer. But since my formation was a bit spotty because of your inexperience, it may be difficult for me to grant you the wish that you want."
"Oh," said George, "but if you can take the exact meaning of my wishes from my head, why have I had to explain them?"
She shrank in bashful contrition, "Well, I, um, like hearing you make your wishes. They are always so erotic and nice. Waiting for you to finish verbalizing your wishes is like the time you, um, went down on me. The anticipation and the build up, and then the climax when you finally finish, it is almost as exciting as the wishes themselves."
George couldn't help but remark at how cute she was trying to be demure and proper, when he knew she was just dieing to say, "The time you ate my pussy!" He thought to himself that he had to do that again soon, as a reward maybe. "Well I can't say I can complain so far so, why don't I keep verbalizing and you can keep reading."
"Thank you Master," she said happily.
The two continued to eat in relative silence. George had put on a play-list he had once made consisting of a bunch of love songs. Dawn loved every single one of them and sang along with the chorus once she learned the words and the melodies. Once again, George was bewitched by her sweet and powerful singing voice. Just singing acopella, she was easily out-performing the heavily produced starlets in the songs. Not to mention the fact that she was more beautiful than all of them combined. He stopped eating his club sandwich so that he could listen to her sing a quiet ballad. Her eyes had been closed, and she turned a dark scarlet when she opened them to find George staring at her, googley eyed.
"Dawn, can you sing a song for me?"
"I would love to George! You like my singing?" she asked flattered.
"Are you kidding? I've never heard a voice so amazing. You're like, American Idol material," he laughed.
Tingle. "Alright," she looked highly embarrassed, "what would you like me to sing?"
"Can you sing my song, the song that opened your vessel?"
"Actually George, it is my song. My mother wrote it for me. It was the first thing I heard when I entered the world as a baby."
"How do I know it then?"
"You know it because you were meant to know it. Only someone who could fulfill the conditions of my mother's wish would know the song that ushered me into life. It took a very long time for that person to appear. But after two-thousand years of waiting, here we are."
George suddenly had the feeling that everything that had happened in his life, and his mother's life, and everybody else's lives, had happened to bring him together with Dawn. And it was all thanks to this song.
"What is it called," he asked awestruck.
"It does not have a name, nor does it have any words. It is the sound of my mother's heart, wishing me a blessed life. Would you like to hear it?"
She closed her eyes, sat up straight, and began to sing softly. It was his song, but it sounded so different the way she sang it. While his version tended to be hopeful towards the middle, it sounded like a funeral dirge in comparison to Dawn's quiet fearlessness. As she lost herself in the song she began to sway like some beautiful honey-haired serpent. Her lips trembled as she mouthed the gentle vibrations. George closed his eyes to listen more intently. The sounds seem to come from everywhere at once. The song filled him up with more hope then all of his renditions combined. As the climax of the song passed, George felt more peaceful and calm then he had ever felt. It was an unbelievable feeling.
When the song ended and Dawn looked at him expectantly for his approval, he found himself unable to speak. The song had moved him beyond words. He gazed at her and tried to convey what he was feeling, but he was speechless. He could only nod. She nodded back. Their meaning was clear, nothing more needed to be said.
The two finished eating. George was having trouble keeping his eyes open at this point, but he couldn't shake the fear that she was going to be gone when he woke up again. He was trying to come up with more activities for them to do when Dawn fell over on the bed and hugged a pillow sleepily. He looked at the clock and, seeing that it was almost eleven, decided it was indeed that time. He cleaned up the remaining food, turned out the lights, and plopped down wearily beside her. Without any prompting, she snuggled up next to him.
George tried to fall asleep, but his mind was working too feverishly to shut-down. "Dawn?" he whispered.
"Yes George," she didn't even open her eyes.
"Will you still be here when I wake up?"
"I'll be wherever you are," she mumbled groggily.
Feeling slightly better but still uneasy he said, "Good night, Dawn."
"Good night, I love you George."
He started to reply, but then he heard her breathing turn into light snoring, like that of an exhausted puppy. After a few long minutes of listening to her rhythmic white noise, George finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.