James' Genie: Prologue

AN: The Genie genre that was set down by Joe Brolly in Genie Chronicles has been expanded upon by many authors, and I figured I would take a shot at it. I highly recommend reading that story first, which can be found on Literotica. I also draw influence from 800lbGorrila, who wrote A Beautiful Wish, inspired by Joe Brolly's story. That story, too, is worth checking out on Literotica.

In this story, a Genie is given to a young man who, while always well-meaning, is nothing less than an overconfident, overdramatic, manwhore. This is mostly porn, and the 'plot' is entirely in service of that.

The beach was cold and windy, as Cape Cod beaches always were during November, and the sea had taken on a gray and violent tone. The tide was out, but James still walked along the massive, squarish rocks piled against the sea wall, rather than along the sand.

He buried his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket as a particularly strong gust blew in from the water. Normally, Martha's Vineyard blocked the worst of the weather, but it was just one of those days when the ocean seemed to shake, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

Except, perhaps, stay inside, as any reasonable person would.

James took a long step from one rock to another, comfortable and familiar with each of them. Before leaving for college, he had often made this walk when he was lonely, and boy was he lonely now.

Almost everyone he knew was off somewhere enjoying the Thanksgiving holiday, including, for that matter, his parents and siblings, who had left days ago with a promise to return 'some time around Christmas.'

Which was fine. He was an adult, and he was a sophomore in college, so he certainly didn't need anyone to look after him. In fact, having the house to himself - not including his twin, Charlotte, who rarely left her room - was something of a blessing. Only, all his friends from the Cape were with their families, so he was pretty much fucked for the rest of the week, until he caught a flight back to North Carolina.

Which, again, was fine. Cape Cod just happened to be mind-numbingly boring in the off-season, so here he was, walking along a cold beach, acting as if he was the melodramatic lead of a mediocre romance movie.

James kicked a pebble across the rocks. It bounced, skipping across a gap, then struck something that sounded metallic. "Huh," he muttered quite intelligently, stepping over to get a closer look.

The gold didn't exactly sparkle, but it would have if there had been any sunlight to speak of. "No fucking way," James said to himself, bending down and picking up whatever it was, which he still wasn't entirely sure of. What he was sure of, though, was that the thing was valuable, and it was probably good his family wasn't around, because he doubted his stepmother's generally agreeable disposition would continue when a solid chunk of gold was in question.

Turning it over, he decided it was some sort of necklace, but the part that actually went around a person's neck had long ago disappeared - probably rotted away in the ocean - and it was definitely old. The amulet was about the size of his fist, and swirling letters were etched into it in what looked vaguely like Arabic to his untrained eye, but was probably something else entirely.

James stood up, and, suddenly paranoid, looked around the beach, wondering if anyone had seen him. Obviously, no one had, because he was the only person crazy enough, or lonely enough, to be walking around on the beach during a stormy Thanksgiving.

Very much determined to figure out what he had discovered, and certainly no longer bored, he stuffed the amulet in his pocket and began to make his way home.

---

James was pretty sure the thing was supposed to open. It was big - like, seriously big for an amulet, and he could think of no other reason why it would be that way. Also, there were hinges on the bottom, which was a pretty good clue.

His problem - one of many, really - was that the damn thing just wouldn't cooperate. In his frustration, he had tried to pry it open with a screwdriver. It hadn't worked, and he had realized he was probably just going to damage the amulet, but his failure still spoke to how thoroughly stuck it was.

Instead of forcing the matter, he had taken to translating the flowing writing etched into the gold, which turned out to be some sort of Arabic, as he had initially suspected, only much older. Almost certainly pre-Islamic. At least, he was fairly certain it was something of that sort, but he had nearly failed French in high school, so he was well beyond his area of expertise.

It was slow work, but he quite literally had nothing else to do, and he wasn't going to make a turkey for only himself, because that would be genuinely very sad.

He was quickly learning - relearning, rather - that linguistics was not his field. It took him over an hour to determine which form of Arabic it was, and another hour to transcribe the writing.

Translating was a task better not thought about, but by the time he was finished, the sky had darkened and evening had fallen.

James' translation, which had every chance of being wrong, read 'I hold that which you desire most.' The sentence repeated over and over again, winding its way around the surface of the amulet, which was roughly disk-shaped, and, after a quick search on the value of gold, worth a metric shit-ton of money.

Frankly, he thought the inscription was bullshit, because there was no way in hell the amulet contained his lost sense of childlike joy and whimsy. He would also settle for a blowjob, but that seemed equally as unlikely.

A little disappointed, James leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling of his room for a long while. Now what? He certainly wasn't going to complain about finding a random chunk of gold on the beach, but he couldn't just keep it. For one thing, as blandly pleasant as his stepmother tended to present herself as, she had a nose like a bloodhound when it came to money, which was presumably why she had married his widower father. There was no way he was keeping the thing if she found out about it.

To compound his problem, he no longer had anything to take up his time, and he was still without his childlike whimsy or a blowjob, so that pretty much sucked.

He did a quick online search on how to sell precious metals, then realized he had a genuine artifact on his hands and would probably need to get it appraised, which sounded like a massive pain in the ass, and decided to just quit for the night.

"Well, that sucks," he concluded, shutting off his computer. He stared at the amulet for a long moment. "Open," he commanded as a last, desperate attempt. Nothing happened. "Fuck you," he told it.

Later, when he stepped back into his bedroom freshly showered, the amulet seemed to mock him from its spot on his desk. He sort of wanted to throw it at something, just to express his frustration, but that would be immature.

What did he desire most?

He certainly wanted to find wonder in the world again, but that wasn't his greatest desire. And a blowjob would be awesome, but that just couldn't be the answer.

James pulled on a set of pajama pants, then sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the amulet. Really, it all came back to how he had found the thing in the first place.

"I don't want to be lonely," he said, feeling uncharacteristically pathetic about himself.

Suddenly, absurdly, for no good reason at all, the amulet actually opened, emitting a thick cloud of pink smoke that filled the room. Fuck, he managed to think before slipping into darkness.