He can't say no to helping

"Sure thing, St. Francis," Ernest replied almost automatically. The nickname was one of their shared jokes, stemming from a time when they were both in middle school, and Ernest had gone into the backyard one day, only to find that Clarissa had scattered six bags of sunflower seeds on the lawn, and was now surrounded by dozens of chirping sparrows.

"Thanks," Clarissa said, "I'd have Rocky do it, but I don't trust him to keep his claws out of me." Her laugh was like a hundred golden bells at once, Ernest thought, though the cheesiness of the over-the-top metaphor also made him grimace inwardly.

The pair entered the living room, and Clarissa took a seat on the gaudy orange loveseat. Ernest did the same, and Clarissa turned sideways so that her back was to her brother.

"It's right about here." She took Ernest's hand, and guided it to a spot on her right shoulder, "See if you can feel the knot."

"Okay." He began massaging his sister's shoulder, all the while running the events of the past hour frantically through his head. He'd made that last wish, and Clarissa had suddenly been there at the door, even though he couldn't think of a way that he could have missed seeing her outside when Tiffany had dropped him off. And indeed, though she'd only mentioned it in passing, Clarissa had said something about where he'd gotten the car -- apparently, he'd won it at a contest at the mall. Since this was a thing that Ernest definitely didn't remember happening, and it would have been totally out of character for Clarissa to make a throwaway joke like that without following it up somehow, he was left without any conclusion to make other than that the ring was actually, truly, granting his wishes.

But that also meant that, in the judgment of a magic, wish-granting ring, Clarissa, his sister, was the girl of his dreams.

"Mmmm, that's better," Clarissa said, "A little further down?"

And now, she took his hand, and moved it down so that it was right at spot where the curve of her breast began to swell outward from her chest. Even through the damp fabric of Clarissa's nightie, Ernest could feel how smooth and soft her skin was. He had to move closer to her in order to reach , and the smell of strawberries and vanilla wafted toward him from Clarissa's hair. It was intoxicating, and it was only with the greatest effort that he managed to continue acting like he was simply giving Clarissa a brotherly massage, like nothing unusual was going on.

"A little further down?" She leaned back, pressing her back into Ernest's chest, and moved his hand again. Now it was completely on her breast, as surely as if he were deliberately copping a feel.

"Clarissa, I think you can probably handle that part yourself. This isn't a good idea." Truth be told, he had no sense of whether this was a good idea or not anymore, but the part of him that respected social cues, that tried desperately to stay away from anything that might get him into trouble, was screaming not to continue down this road.

He tried to pull his hand back, but Clarissa put her own hand over his and pinned it to her breast. She turned her head, looking back and up at him, her sparkling green eyes and red lips only a few inches away from Ernest's face. Her cheeks were, if anything, even more flushed now.

"Maybe I'm reading you wrong, Ernest. Maybe I've misinterpreted everything over the years. But I have a whole bunch of not-so-sisterly feelings toward you, and I think you feel the same way about me. You're my brother, and my best friend, but you're also..." She shuddered involuntarily. "...the sexiest guy I know. And you're a legal adult, and I'm a legal adult, and...who cares what anyone says? We didn't make society's rules, we didn't sign up for them. Fuck it."

And then she leaned in and kissed him, hard. The electricity of a shared passion coursed through them. It was deliciously forbidden, exquisitely carnal. This was the exact opposite of a chaste, sibling-appropriate kiss... and it was amazing.

"Fuck me," she finished, as she pulled her lips back.

Jess had grabbed her phone, and was frantically paging through the contacts when the voice came into her mind again.

"I wish someone was here to explain to me where that car came from...and that it was the girl of my dreams."

The fact that even though it was all in her head, she could hear the hesitation and disbelief in Ernest's voice didn't really make her any happier. Who was the girl of Ernest's dreams anyway? How were her powers going to make that happen? And why, why did the rules of genie-hood make it so that she didn't even know how his wish was granted?

Of course, it was hard to fully consider those questions during a mind-blowing, leg-shaking orgasm. This was easily the most powerful one yet, and Jess couldn't help herself from sinking to the floor and moaning in pleasure as the erotic feelings overtook her. The party was still so loud that no one seemed to have heard, but the whole experience filled the blonde cheerleader with a strange mixture of frustration, anger, and sexual satisfaction.

It was at least a couple minutes before she regained her senses. When she finally stopped quivering, she reached over and picked her phone up again. There he was in her contacts, under ERNEST FROM HISTORY. Trembling, she hit the CALL button with her thumb.

And at that very moment, the phone rang.

Ernest groaned. But maybe this was for the best, a chance to pull back from the brink of something entirely out of bounds. He put his hand into his pocket to retrieve the device -- and then Clarissa rolled over, pinning his hand inside his pocket with her arm.

"Give that to me, Bro-mine. Whoever it is, this is more important."

She moved over to let him extract the phone. As soon as he did, she took it from his hand, and slid it under the couch.

"Now, like I was saying..."

She kissed him again, and he felt her tongue in his mouth. Thoughts of resistance fled away. There was no turning back now...