In-Genie-Us! - A Romantic Gender Transformation Comedy (Book 1 of "Erotic Wish Fulfillment")
By Alana Church
()
About this ebook
Shanaya is a lesbian, but her best friend - the woman she desperately loves - definitely isn't. Worse yet, she's about to marry a complete jerk. When a flamboyantly gay genie emerges from her antique necklace, she turns herself into a sexy man. But now can she learn to think like a man, act like a man, and make love like a man...before Allison makes the worst mistake of her life?
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
Shanaya nearly choked. “What? You’re gay? A gay genie?”
He scowled at her. “Oh, great. And now I have to deal with a bigot, too?” He waved his fingers mockingly. “Are you scared I’m going to infect you with my horrible gay cooties?”
“No, no, nothing like that!” she protested quickly. “I’m...I’m a lesbian! So I’m actually kind of glad you’re gay.”
“You’re a lesbian? Awesome!” The genie leaped to his feet and bounded towards her. “Gay high-five, girlfriend!”
She lifted a hand and their palms clapped together.
“Now,” he said, leaning against her bookcase. “What can I do for you, o my mistress?”
Right. Genies grant wishes. But...“First of all, I need to get everything straight.” She chewed her lip. “And I can’t go on calling you...you. Especially if you’re not going to tell me what your real name is. Not that I’m asking you to,” she added hastily. “How about...Gene?”
“Gene?” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I suppose I can live with that. Gene. Fine.”
“And how many wishes do I get? Three?”
“Three?” Gene scoffed. “Girlfriend, that was centuries ago. You have to keep up with the times. Haven’t you ever heard of inflation? You get lots more than that. But first, I have to lay out the rules.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Rule one: No wishing for more wishes. That is total bullcrap. Also, you don’t get to banish me and then summon me with a fresh set. You start with a finite number, and that’s all you get until you banish me permanently or you die. Got it?”
She nodded.
Gene ticked off a second point on his fingers. “Next rule. No murder, violence, or emotional or psychological torture. We’re kinder, gentler djinn, these days. You want to knock off your older sister so you can marry the sultan’s son instead of her, you better take care of that yourself.”
“Um...how long have you been away from Earth, anyway?”
He ignored her. “Third. I can give advice, if you ask for it. But I’m not going to volunteer information if you’re going to do something spectacularly stupid.” He grinned, sharklike, and she shivered. “Watching humans screw things up is half the fun.
“Any questions?”
She swallowed. “There’s...there’s this girl.”
“Oh?” Gene cocked an eyebrow. “Cute?”
“Gorgeous!”
“And let me guess. She doesn’t even know you exist, right? You’ve been pining your heart out for her for years, wanting one glance from her smoldering eyes, one kiss from her glistening lips?”
“No! We’re best friends!”
“Best friends. Sure. And you want me to change her sexuality so she’ll desire you? Or maybe just a simple love spell?” His look was disgusted, and she hung her head in shame. “Hell and no. We can’t take away free will. No potions, spells, hypnosis, or any of that crap. You want this girl in bed, you better find a better way to do it.”
Her heart, which had leapt with horrified hope a few seconds ago, crashed back into her belly. But... “What if it was my choice? You wouldn’t be taking away her free will then.”
“Your choice? What are you talking about?”
The thought was so audacious it took her breath away. She swallowed, cold sweat breaking out on the back of her neck. “Could you...could you turn me into a man?”
Gene stared at her, the silence in the room stretching out until she was quivering like a string. “That’s more than stupid. It’s insane.”
Alana Church
Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.
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In-Genie-Us! - A Romantic Gender Transformation Comedy (Book 1 of "Erotic Wish Fulfillment") - Alana Church
In-Genie-Us!
By Alana Church
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Copyright 2020 Alana Church
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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~
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Chapter 1: Something Old
Hell, Shanaya Singh thought morosely, is watching your best friend get ready for a marriage you know will be flaming wreckage in less than three years.
What made it worse, if that were even possible, was the fact that she had been harboring a desperate crush for Allison ever since they were in middle school. The other woman was everything Shanaya was not; where she was small, dark, and homely, with mousy brown hair, unimpressive looks, and a chest that could only be called modest if you were doing a little creative flattery, Allison was tall, blond, and gorgeous, with a body which made men of all ages turn into stuttering idiots in her presence, unable to peel their eyes away from her stunning figure.
She was also, may all the gods damn fickle fate, resolutely heterosexual, with not the slightest interest in her – or any other woman, for that matter - as a romantic partner. Shanaya’s unrequited desire for her best friend would stay just that – unrequited. Over the years, she had made two fumbling attempts at seducing Allison - once when they were both in high school, and another the summer before her sophomore year in college. Both times the other woman hadn’t even recognized them for what they were. Shanaya didn’t know whether she should be relieved that she had been saved the embarrassment of having Allison reject her, or angry that her friend was so oblivious to her advances that she couldn’t even see a seduction attempt when she was waving it front of her face.
Why are we doing this?
she grumbled as Allison pushed open the door of the antique shop, shoehorned between a comic-book store and a cut-rate Chinese restaurant. Don’t you have enough jewelry at home? Why are we running all over town?
Allison flashed her a dazzling smile over her shoulder. Come on, Shannie. Don’t you know the old rhyme? ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?’
Yes. So what?
I need something old for the wedding. I already have something blue. Though,
she said, winking, I’m not going to tell you what it is. It’s a surprise for Brad, too.
Gross. She kept a smile on her face, even though her stomach heaved. To think of Brad Sorensen having his hands on Allison was like someone sitting on a whoopie cushion during the Ode to Joy. Some things were just plain wrong. What about something new?
Well, that’s the wedding dress, silly. And I’m sure my mom can find something for me to borrow. Some of her earrings, maybe. But I still need something old.
She pulled her back towards the jewelry section. It’s bad luck, otherwise.
Shanaya sighed. She knew, as the maid of honor, she should be doing everything she could to help Allison out. But her heart wasn’t in it. She was her best friend, had been since their first day of preschool. Her lips quirked, remembering the story that their mothers never tired of telling.
"Are you reading a story?" the strange girl asked. Her mouth fell open when she looked up at her from her position at the bookcase, hiding away from all the other noisy kids. She had the most amazing hair, all golden and soft, tumbling around her face in curling ringlets.
"Oh, she said.
You’re pretty."
"I know. She tossed her head and smiled.
My name’s Allison. Allison Weaver. But most people call me Allie. Who are you?"
She looked down at her shoes. Shanaya.
"That’s a nice name. She sat down on the mat beside her with a thump.
Mommy reads stories to me. Can you read?"
"Yes. A little."
"Good. Read the story to me, okay?"
And that was how shy, bookish Shanaya acquired a new best friend, almost by accident. Allison had always been there for her, even when the other kids had made fun of her skin color and her religion. Hindus were a bit thin on the ground in Mayfield, Kentucky, population ninety-eight hundred. And a family that not only wasn’t Baptist, but wasn’t even Christian, was looked on with deep suspicion by the denizens of Graves County.
Could be worse though, she admitted. We could be Muslim instead of Hindus. Though then people would probably be trying to get Mom and Dad deported, even if Mom is the best dentist in town.
She leaned against a pillar, her nose wrinkling as Allison poked through the displays of second-hand jewelry. Most of it was awful – tacky, gaudy stuff that a hooker wouldn’t wear on a bet. She closed her eyes as her friend tried on a pair of mismatched bracelets, then held up a tarnished necklace to her tan throat. What do you think?
I think it’s crap,
she said flatly. She stirred the selection with a finger, then gave the whole mess a contemptuous flick. There isn’t a single thing here that would look good on you. You’re wasting your time.
She sighed, rubbing her temples. As much as she hated the idea of Allison marrying the six foot high pile of crap she was currently engaged to, she owed it to her friend to make her special day as happy as possible. Listen. We can do better. What are you really looking for? What do you want?
Allison’s forehead wrinkled adorably, the way it did when she was thinking hard. A necklace, maybe? I have one or two, but I was thinking, something gold, to set off the dress…
She pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing as she summoned up a picture of her in her wedding dress at the last fitting. See?
Shanaya chewed her lip to disguise the pang of desire. Even on the tiny screen of a cell phone, Allison was stunning in her wedding gown. The dress was white lace, with a daringly low neckline, dropping in a deep vee between the rising swells of her friend’s impressive breasts.
I have some lovely pieces,
she admitted reluctantly. Old jewelry from my grandmother that came to me when she passed away and me and Mom and Nadia and Zahira divided things up. One…it’s very beautiful, made of gold. Linked discs in rows, connected by tiny chains.
Her fingers described a triangle in the air. Thirteen in the first row, twelve in the next, all the way down to one in the last row.
Her mouth dried as she thought of the gold lying next to that tawny skin, and the effect it would have with the creamy white lace to set it off.
Thirteen? That’s bad luck, isn’t it?
Maybe for you ridiculous Christians,
she teased. Thirteen is an important number to Hindus. It’s the number of full moons in every year.
Oh? What about twelve?
Twelve signs of the zodiac.
Eleven?
The eleven trunks of mighty Ganesh, the elephant god.
Allison’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. I’m pretty sure you’re making that up. Someday I’m going to ask your mom about all the things you say about Hindus, and if you’ve been lying to me all this time, you can find a new best friend.
Hah. You’ve been saying that since we were six years old.
She gave the store a disdainful glance. Ready to get out of here? I’m starving.
They ate lunch at their favorite Mexican place. Shanaya had chicken tacos, while Allison chose fajitas, all the while moaning about how eating such a big meal with the wedding less than a month away was a terrible idea, because all the food was going to make her swell up like a nickel balloon. Shanaya ignored it, the way she always did. Allison had been pronouncing dire warnings about the death of her figure since she was fourteen, but never gained an ounce she didn’t want to.
Hi, Mom,
she said, as they walked into the house.
Hi, honey. Hello, Allison.
Maryam Singh was at the kitchen island, cutting vegetables with a wickedly sharp knife. What are you guys doing home so early? I thought you’d be shopping all day.
We had a better idea. What’s for supper?
"Rogan josh, she replied, scraping chopped red chili peppers into a shallow bowl with the edge of her knife.
Will you be eating with us, Allison?"
"Rogan josh? Allison bounced happily on her toes. She loved the lamb dish.
Sure! I’ll just call my mom and tell her I’ll be eating here, since my other mother loves me so much more than she does."
Which was a far cry from her reaction the first time she had come over for dinner and a sleepover, Shanaya recalled. Completely unprepared for the hot spices which her mother used in cooking, the little girl had broken down into tears at the unfamiliar burning sensation in her mouth. Only an emergency application of chocolate ice cream as a treatment had rescued the night from complete disaster.
Maryam laughed, tilting her head back. "You’re terrible. You better treat your maan right, or when it’s time for your next turn on the wheel, you’ll be sent back as a stinkbug."
Allison giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. I’ll remember.
We’re going upstairs,
Shanaya said. Call us when dinner’s ready, okay Mom?
Sure, honey.
She waved the knife at them with the same casual skill she used when pulling a tooth. No problem.
Do you really believe that stuff about coming back as an animal or something?
Allison asked, as they climbed to the second story. Having life after life until you reach…what do you call it again?
"Moksa, she replied absently.
I don’t know. Do you really believe that the Romans nailed a Jewish carpenter to a tree for telling everyone how we should be all nice to each other for a change, rose from the dead, and was carried off bodily into heaven, and that all we have to do to achieve eternal bliss is believe in him? That eternal reward or damnation has nothing to do with how we behave on earth?"
"Well, it’s something to do on