Chapter 9 - Lacy's Dungeon
The minutes ticked away slowly until the final bell sounded and released George and his Genie from its academic clutches. He stopped at his locker to drop off some books, and, as expected, there was a new yellow sticky note on his door that read, "Eww!" George had meant for this to be quick. However, he suddenly noticed how sloppy his only personal space in the entire school was. Some old, unwashed gym clothes sat in a heap at the bottom, on top of which was a broken binder with loose papers spilling out. A relic of a former beating he'd taken the first day of school. He hadn't bothered to clean it up then, and it was still there almost a month later. Then, there were the sticky notes lining the walls, each with a unique insult written on them. He kept his books on the top shelf but rarely used them since he wasn't planning on graduating. The whole thing smelled of moldy gym socks, which didn't ingratiate him with his neighbors.
After surveying the scene and swallowing his shame, George finally decided it was time for a change. So he gathered the old clothes, the broken binder, and the sticky notes and disposed of them in a nearby garbage can. When he returned, a sparkly pink air freshener shaped like the silhouette of a suspiciously Genie-like woman in a suggestive pose was hanging from a coat hook. It replaced the musty smell with that of a freshly baked pumpkin pie, one of his favorite scents. It was now immaculately clean, without so much as a single speck of dust anywhere, and was capped off by the most safe-for-work picture they'd taken at lunchtime, stuck inside the locker door. In just a few minutes, an unpleasant reminder of his old life had been remade into something useful and cozy. It was more cathartic than he thought it might be.
Satisfied, he said, "That's so much better. Thanks, Genie."
"Anytime, Master," she chirped. "Maybe next time we can expand it a bit, add a nice plant, some lighting, a hot tub..." she trailed off as her imagination ran wild.
"World's smallest hot tub," George smirked.
"Hey, if I can fit a universe inside my vessel, I can fit a hot tub inside a locker."
George closed up his locker and began navigating the crowded hallways of Stafford Regional toward the athletic fields. As he avoided eye contact with a few classmates, offering him an unprompted high-five, he asked, "It seems like you can do a lot of stuff. Don't I need a sexy wish for something like that?"
"If it's just for you and me, I can do pretty much anything. I mean, I am a cosmic being, after all. If I want to make an extra-dimensional space inside your locker that only you and I can perceive, who's gonna stop me? But if I want to change certain aspects of reality, like other people, societies, fundamental forces, I need a wish for that, and even then, I can only make it spicy."
George couldn't even pretend to understand what she meant. "That sounds... complicated. Do you ever get frustrated with all those restrictions?"
"Nah! I don't even think about it. It's automatic, like our bond. Protecting us, keeping my powers hidden, empowering you; it's all as natural to me as masturbating."
"But you still need me for some reason?"
She sighed dramatically and said, "It's true, I can't do anything cool without a Master. Raw, unfettered magic is incredibly powerful, and you can do just about anything with it, but it's innately destructive. Unchecked, magic obliterates anything it touches."
"Whoa..." he said, not expecting to have his mind blown.
"Yeah, heavy stuff. But no worries, Master. Magic is also naturally submissive. If told what to do by someone with a strong desire, magic is as docile as a golden retriever puppy. That's what the vessel does. It... Well, it restrains me. You're my tether to reality, keeping me focused and helpful rather than just a destroyer of worlds. And that means I get to hang out with you and have hopes and dreams and stuff. Like, putting a hot tub in your locker."
"Truly a worthy endeavor for a being with infinite cosmic power.," he joked.
"Indeed! The curse notwithstanding, of course."
"Of course." As he exited the school, George's mind was awash with questions, and he asked, "So if you can just, like, create things, could you magic me up some money? Like a fat stack of cash?"
"Probably. The problem is there isn't anything innately sexy about it. It's just a means to an end, and I'm more of an 'ends' kinda girl. So I couldn't just give you a pile of gold coins, but if you get creative with some wishes, maybe some fat stacks will accumulate on their own."
"Ah, so... you're saying I could make money indirectly from a wish then? Like... making a porn site or something?"
She gasped, "Master! Are you insinuating that I should use my incredible abilities of reality manipulation to create something as basic as a website dedicated to sexual gratification? Why, that would be preposterous! I don't... I can't even..." She groaned melodramatically, and said with faux reluctance, "Alright, twist my arm. I'll make you a money-printing porn site for the ages, I guess!"
George couldn't help but chuckle. But then he remembered where he was headed and sobered himself while he marched briskly across the various athletic fields to the football stadium. Shoemaker Stadium had become Stafford's claim to fame since it was finished five years prior. Named for one of the lost princesses, It was a state-of-the-art facility, with enough seating to easily accommodate over ten thousand spectators. Aside from hosting the school's football, track and field, and soccer events, it was occasionally used as a neutral site for minor league contests and commandeered as a fairground. No other high schools within several states had a stadium close to the grandeur afforded to the Stafford Dragons.
The equipment shed was nestled on the far side of the stadium from the school, amongst other outbuildings like concessions and restrooms. However, calling it a shed was misleading since it was large enough to be considered a warehouse. It was two stories tall, with large barn doors swathed in the school's colors of purple and black. George worried he might be early since the team had yet to arrive. But when he tried the entrance at the side of the building, it caught on the jamb and wobbled loudly, but it opened easily enough.
The Genie stopped him before he walked in. "I thought you might like to know that I'm preventing the cameras and stuff from detecting us inside. So don't worry about being watched."
He cringed. Of course, there would be security. Though he wasn't trespassing per se, he wasn't going there for any school-sanctioned activity. "Are you doing that? Or is that just automatic?"
"All me, baby. I'm removing you from the footage frame by frame. Takes a bit of doing, but it's no big, I gotchu."
Natural light poured in through large upstairs windows, highlighting the dust in the air and dimly illuminating a maze of equipment from every sport hosted by Stafford Regional. There were hurdles fully assembled and arranged in tight rows, huge cloth buckets filled with extra balls, piles of field markers of all kinds, field hockey and lacrosse sticks, baseball bats, and other accouterments packed in tightly from wall to wall. Navigating its twisting corridors of sports gear might have been daunting, but one of the paths lacked any dust or debris and was clearly more well-traveled. George followed it to the back of the building.
"So... two questions," Genie began. "First, how are we gonna do this? Second, how long do you think it will take for you two to touch butts?"
"To answer both of your questions, no fucking clue," he said while ducking under a balance beam, "I wanted to appeal to her better nature. I mean, if she finds out someone's in danger, then, of course, she'd want to help, right?"
"Oh, you sweet, sappy honey-baby," she said sarcastically. "Master, this isn't Farah we're dealing with here. From what I can tell, Lacy's more of a survivor than a bleeding heart. And if she's as wound up in the coach's web as we think, she may be too scared to go against him. So unless we make it worth her while, I doubt she'll want to help us."
"Well... I'm winging it, then. Unless you have any advice."
"Hmm," she thought, "stop for a second. Quick huddle."
George stopped next to a palette stacked high with Stafford Regional t-shirts. The Genie appeared next to him in a puff of pink smoke, dressed in a porned-up version of the school's cheerleading uniform with her hair in a fluffy ponytail.
"Gimmee the D!" she squealed. Then, she shimmied into a cute pose and shook her pompoms. Her bodacious body pushed the limits of the sexy outfit, her modesty not a priority.
George smiled. Her infectious exuberance calmed his nerves somewhat, and she was always so easy on the eyes.
"Bring it in, Master." She put an arm on his shoulder and pulled him down, making him bend to her height. Then, a series of nearly identical Genies poofed into being and joined the huddle until the circle was closed. Each had a uniquely colored shock of hair streaking down one side of their face, making it easier to tell them apart. George was now surrounded by an entire squad of Genie cheerleaders, each as sexy as the other.
The original to his left spoke first. "Okay, this one's gonna be a tough nut to crack." The Genie with a red streak in her hair to his right continued, "But, lucky for us, you've got the perfect tool for the job." Then Green asked, "Can you guess what it is?"
He felt the answer was obvious, and he cocked his eyebrow. "It's my dick. You're talking about my dick, aren't you?"
They each giggled a little differently. The original said, "I can guarantee you have the biggest nutcracker she's ever seen." "And it just so happens that our girl is something of a size queen," said Yellow.
George did his best to act like this was normal and asked, "So, you think I should fuck the information out of her?"
"Yes," they all said in unison. "And no," said Black, "she's used to having boys wrapped around her finger. They bore her." Blue continued, "But if you can resist her advances at first and ignore her taunts, she'll start to realize you aren't like those other boys." Red finished, "You're not a cheap thrill. You're a man who can satisfy her. A man she can respect."
