His own worst enemy

AN: thanks to Geo for helping inspire most of this chapter! They helped me keep the genie character authentic.

William didn't want to spend a second longer by this noisemaker, but a third, even more booming "MAKE YOUR WISHEEEEES!" Practically tore the building down. He had to shut this thing up or abandon the score, and he was too angry at his bad luck to see the smart choice.

Jean was curious how the simpleton's dexterous fingers so easily bested her personally impenetrable prison. On one of her freer days, she might have gotten his number for a friend, but she was more concerned with the man's look of disappointment at his newly gotten goods. She hoped it was the 'all I get is a lousy antique lamp?' Kind of disappointment; she could easily trick this Party City criminal into freeing her as her Master. Her own disappointment grew as she saw the cash accumulated by the machine. Guess it's her fault his haul is so low. She watched his next move, which was jumping out of his skin at a startling...something. There was no sound in the quiet mall, but she noticed red lights flashing across his paling face. She read the reversed script as he did, noting the sneaky wording, unlike him. Seems this human wasn't so adept at all, as his fumbling fingers force the fool to feed the filched finances back into the machine. It seemed to work, and in dramatic fashion. Now for the fun part, Jean thought to herself, as his repercussions were wrapped up as wishes to spend. He reacted like more noise was booming through the mall, but it must only be heard by the victim. Seems he had more impetus to wish fast, therefore, stupidly, and boy, did he deliver.

As William racked his brain for how to remove the wishes without any of the actors around to control the genie robot, at which he finally took a look. This could have been a refurbished sex doll, it's chassis looked so realistic. He swore he saw its ample chest rising with subtle breaths. His eyes travelled its slender curves, currently standing with a blank gaze over his shoulder, its jaw seem to have locked in a weird, smirking position. The robot's perfect figure didn't match the carnival-style machine, but it did give his mind some ideas. "Man," the thief muttered, "I wish there was a hot babe like her still in the mall, but a human one, so I could feel all her generous curves." He smirked to himself, and so did Jean. She enjoyed wishers who weren't paying attention. It almost always led to an easily manipulated wish. Why would humans make their language so ambiguous?

"Consider your wish granted." She eagerly cheered, and with a snap of her fingers, The wall read 2/3, and Mr. Crook was now Mrs. Crook, a curvy, tall drink of water who looked like she bought the wrong gendered Halloween costume. The new hottie shifted in his ill fitting shoes. William was impressed by the fidelity of the robot's voice. There must be a microphone set up and heard the him say 'I wish...' and triggered the bot. How did this thing not make more money? Although, trying to burn through even more wishes from more stolen bills would have been a far worse fate. He craned his neck up at his wish counter, feeling a tugging pain on his shoulders. his whole body felt uncomfortable, as his outfit pinched and crushed his knockout figure. "Man, I wish I was wearing more comfortable clothes." William offered to the machine, and balked at the soft timbre in his voice. He grasped his throat in shock, feeling too small a neck with too dainty a hand, realizing the bombshell he saw before him was not a fantasy, but a reflection. "What the hell?" He shrieked, sounding like he saw a mouse and didn't just switch genders. He didn't notice that his wish counter ticked down.

"You really aren't good at this." Jean tittered, impressed by the snazzy outfit she dreamed up. With a hip shaking snap, she turned his misshapen stereotype outfit into a much more form fitting stereotype outfit, fist pumping at the wonderful results. From his feathery headpiece past his cinching, one piece, tit lifting top, and down his fishnet encased, mile long legs atop dainty, glittering heels, he looked like a high class showgirl. He watched in shock as a broad, peacocking bouquet of feathers sprung up on his pert, heart shaped ass. His new, bouncy curls blinded his peripherals, and he looked down at his probably F cup tits, looking like a shelf of cleavage from his angle, and a squeeze proved they were real. He had to reflexively pull his shoulders in to not fall forward from their weight. His new legs, thick from dance training and long from blessed genes, shivered in the cool, mall air, and his petite feet felt surprisingly fine on these sparkly stilts.

It was now that William realized the android had insulted him! "How did this happen? Magic is real? I didn't wish to be a girl!" He stamped his foot in anger, hearing a distinct snap from his metallic soles: tap shoes, of course.

"Actuallyyyy~" Jean quipped, glad to see she still had access to her minor, innocuous magic, as she pulled a cassette tape recorder from her tits, causing a little shimmy in the tight harem top she wore. With a click of 'play', Will heard his deep baritone repeat his musing wish as she mouthed along. "I wish there was a hot babe like her still around.." the last evidence of his masculinity faded away as the recorder did, and Jean leaned on a cocked hip smugly. "Does that sound familiar? Sorry that it's easier to change a body than make a new body. Humans are made of complex stuff. That kind of magic costs and arm and a leg and a younger brother." She approached their glass division, tracing William's hourglass outline on it with slow fingers. "You asked to touch those curves as much as you wanted. 24/7 is literally as much as I can offer."

William was reeling at the revelations he was receiving: Magic was real; his penis was gone; he itched from a feather wedgie. "You bimbo bitch," He yelled, kicking the sturdy container around Jean. "I definitely didn't ask for this outfit." He clutched his silky cups for emphasis, flinching as they mashed against his puffy new nipples. If Jean had a nickel for every time a wisher called her a bimbo bitch, she could buy her own freedom wish and have enough to get a yacht or a sports team.

"I said it's easier to change a human base than create one from thin air. Would you have wanted to wait the five seconds?" The look on William's gorgeously made up face seemed to read 'yes.' "As for your clothes," again, Jean pulled a somehow different tape recorder out from cleavage clutch and pressed play. This time the voice rings in a higher register, "Man, I wish I was wearing more comfortable clothes." "I figured, anything would be more comfortable than your poorly proportioned thief gear, and if it satisfied the wish, it's objectively true." She shrugged like she felt sympathy for the dolt. He'd burned through his first two wishes carelessly, as they usually do in the traditional three wish scenario, before finally making a 'smarter' choice of wish, meaning she just had to think a little longer on the proper corruption.

William admitted his armpits didn't pinch as much, and the shoes felt second nature on these feet, but he wasn't keen on these heavy melons and tugging wedgie. "Fine!" He relented, no longer caring about making noise. He rubbed his temples deeply, wincing as his longer, crimson nails grazed them. "You better fix this." He threatened, like he had any power in this situation. Jean leaned in, prepared for the challenge of the Final Wish. "It's not like I said 'I wish to be some subservient little dancing slut, ready and willing to perform anything for anyone; some bubbly ditz who loves shaking her goods and making guys happy." That's what he had in mind with his first wish. If only this genie was like in the movies.

Jean was a little disappointed that he made another bonehead wish. She straightened back up with an obnoxious eyeroll. "I had a seagull scoop my vessel out of the Master-at-the-time's hands while he was making two lifeguards practice mouth to mouth on him, and it made smarter wishes than you have." She snapped her fingers, erasing the useless wish counter from the wall. "Have a nice day! :)" read the magic glass. "How about you go find some guys to entertain?" Jean suggested with a brushing hand gesture.

"Good idea!" bubbled from Williams glossy lips, and he bounced in place, tapping a rhythmic about face and shuffling off into the late night air. The last thing he wanted to do was find men with a body like this, even if his mind seemed to now swim with ideas of crowds cheering as he danced, shook, and even knelt for his audience members, and his new body reacted accordingly. "Oh, god, I made a wish!" He screamed in his head, high kicking down the street past nightclubs and bars, and it was just about last call. It wasn't long before a few stumbling drunks wanted to see if those were real, and he cringed as his smile beamed with his high beams. After a few generous squeezes, which he coyly giggled at as he gladly hefted his honkers for them. Soon they took him to the back alley, and helped him break in his new form. When her last satisfied customer staggered off, his passing comment about a career in Vegas sent the dancer bounding off once more, his outfit spotless even as his body was a Jackson Pollock.

William followed the routine he always did. He took his big score and left town, leaving not a single trace of his presence except a messy hotel room. Jean wondered if she'd ever see that reformed criminal again, but she doubted it. From her vantage point, none of the clothing stores carried flashy enough attire.