Swapped by a Genie Read online

  Swapped by a Genie

  By Nikki Crescent

  Copyright 2014 Nikki Crescent

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  ---

  Chapters

  I

  II

  III

  ---

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Author’s Note

  The author would like to point out that all the characters in this work of fiction are 21 years of age or older. All sexual acts depicted in this book are totally consensual. It is not the author’s intention to offend any reader. All the characters in this book are fictitious and any similarity to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidence.

  Chapter 1

  Going Away

  John Torrens was a humble man. He was a happy man. He was a motivated man. He was an expert guitar player. He was a successful executive at a major oil company. He was even an excellent chef, winning multiple awards at local cooking competitions. Amazing quality after amazing quality aside, I had always thought of John Torrens as a forgiving man.

  I worked for Mr. Torrens for many years, and I screwed up many, many times, yet never once did Mr. Torrens ever punish me, discipline me or even sigh at my failures. I remember one day he came into work with a bruise on his face. I had asked him what had happened, and he simply smiled and said, “I was mugged in the alley on the way to work.”

  Astonished, I said, “Mugged?! My God, are you okay? What did they take?” I couldn’t believe the genuine smile on John’s face.

  “I’m okay. Just a few scrapes and bruises,” he said. “But they didn’t take anything.” As I stood there with an expression of shock, John explained to me that as the mugger was running away with his watch and wallet, John reached into his pocket and removed a hundred dollar bill and called to the mugger, “Here, take this!”

  The mugger turned around, confused. “Why?” he asked.

  “You need it, I don’t.” John Torrens placed the bill on the ground and began to walk away. “Just take it.”

  The cautious mugger stood dumbfounded for a moment, and then hesitantly walked up to the bill. He looked down at it, and then back up at John, who was now standing at a safe distance away from the armed thug. Then, the mugger dropped John’s wallet and watch and ran away, empty-handed.

  I tell this story, only because I want to make it very clear for the reader that John Torrens was not a vengeful person. He was not one to hold grudges or hurt another person.

  As I mentioned before, John Torrens was a highly ranked executive with an oil company, MJL Oil and Gas. He was in charge of ensuring every department in the company was operating at maximum efficiency. John only answered to one person, Markus Larson.

  Markus Larson was the CEO of MJL Oil and Gas. As a matter of fact, the company’s name was Markus Larson’s initials, the J standing for James. Markus Larson, unlike his right hand man, John Torrens, was an angry man. He was a spiteful man. He was a brooding man. He was the kind of man who took what he wanted, and always left a barren warpath on his way there. He was a short, stalky man. Despite being able to afford thousand dollar dinners each night, he chose to eat McDonalds (which he, of course, never picked up himself. His lowly assistant, whose name he didn’t even know did this chore). I’ve written enough now about Markus Larson, as he shall return to us later in this story.

  Now I can begin to tell my story, which begins in the cozy home of John Torrens and his beautiful wife, Susan Torrens. John had packed his bags in a hurry, having been ordered on an emergency trip up north to Canada’s Northwest Territories by his boss, Markus Larson. John’s flight was scheduled to leave at eight at night, and the limousine was already en-route to his home, albeit late.

  Susan Torrens was a lovely woman, but she was also very young compared to John. Married at eighteen, Susan was a mere twenty-four years old (compared to John’s forty-five years of age). She was still “trying to figure out what to do with her life”, as she put it. To be honest, with John’s money, she could have done absolutely nothing and lived a fine life. Being only twenty-four, Susan hadn’t yet developed that tough skin one needs in a relationship. She was far from independent and she generally got by with her beauty and in-general good looks. That said she was indeed a lovely woman, the kind that would give you the shirt off of her back if it were the last thing she owned. She was the kind of woman who would do anything for her husband.

  And do anything for her husband, she did. She used the late limousine as an opportunity to get John off one last time before he left her for three weeks.

  “Oh God, it’s so hard,” Susan said as she pulled her hand tightly up the length of John’s throbbing erection.

  John bit his lip and inhaled a large breath of air. Susan’s stroking had gotten him long and hard. The mere feeling of the veiny ridges of his cock made her pussy begin to ooze warm juice into her tight panties.

  Susan firmly pulled her fingers up over the tip of John’s bulbous dick. Her soft fingertip brushed up against the throbbing cock’s very tip, sending warm jolts of energy bursting through John’s whole body. He began to relax into the bed.

  “Just like that,” John said as he revelled in the euphoria of his young wife’s hand job.

  Susan increased her pace, maintaining her tight grip. She could feel the throbbing in John’s cock intensifying. A tiny drop of warm pre-cum dribbled out onto her hand.

  Without warning, John reached over with his hand and grabbed on gently to the back of Susan’s head. He began to lead her down towards his massive erection. Susan couldn’t resist. The thick cock was sending young womanly hormones pumping like crazy throughout her body.

  Slowly, she opened her mouth. The thick throbber pushed against her tight lips and began to spread them wide. Her body began to melt as the warm dick fell upon her wet tongue. John pushed Susan’s head down deep, sending the length of his massive shaft deep down his hot young wife’s throat. He ran his fingers through her soft blonde hair.

  Susan began to massage the length of John’s member with her wet tongue and tight lips. She pulled up the entire length of the veiny rod and sunk back down until her throat wouldn’t allow her any further. After a few moments, she reintroduced her hand into the scene and began to simultaneously jack him off as she blew his dick.

  John was getting close to cumming. His body relaxed further into the mattress.

  Honk! Honk!

  The limousine was out front of their house. John sat up swiftly and looked to the window.

  “Shoot—I’ve got to go,” he said.

  “Wait,” Susan said, using her free hand to push John back down.

  Susan was determined to get her husband off one last time before he left for the north. She gripped tighter with her hand and began to stroke harder. Using the tip of her tongue, she tickled the tip of John’s cock. Immense pleasure was bursting through John’s body, as he became closer and closer to his climax.

  Honk! Honk! Honk!

  The limousine driver was growing impatient as they were already running late.

  Squish! Squish! Squish!

  Susan’s warm saliva gushed through her fingertips as she jerked the hard cock repeatedly up and down.

  “Fuck—I’m going to cum,” John said as his cock began to bloat and fill with warm jizz.

  Honk! Honk!

  Squish! Squish! Squish! Squish!

  “C’mon, baby! Cum for me,” Susan said, removing her lips from the ready-to-burst dick and looking up at her husband. “Cum right on my face. Cum on me! Do it!” Susan was desperate for the warm white cum.

  Suddenly, John couldn’t hold any longer.

  HONK!

  John’s massive white, sticky load exploded al
l over Susan’s clean young face. Shot after shot fired forcefully into her soft lips and perfect skin. The immediate surprise of the burst made her flinch, but she took the load like a champion.

  “Oh, shit,” said John as the final dribble of jizz oozed out the tip of his dick. “I gotta go.” John quickly rolled away from his beautiful cum dripping wife and pulled his pants up from his ankles.

  He sprung to his feet, ran to the door where his suitcase was packed and waiting, and then turned back to his wife.

  “I love you,” he said, smiling.

  Susan smiled with cum on her lips. “I love you too,” she said.

  Then, John Torrens left for a trip he would never forget.

  Chapter 2

  Complications

  John didn’t recall much after arriving at the airstrip that night. The last thing he remembered was being led out of the limousine, across the airstrip and into the ten-passenger private jet that awaited him there. He vaguely remembered getting seated and taking off. After that, it was all a blur.

  The plane John Torrens boarded that night flew for three hours north, into Canada’s Northwest Territories. About three hundred miles from any town, over the Northern Taiga Cordillera, the plane John Torrens boarded crashed, killing everyone on board—

  Everyone except for John Torrens.

  John suffered a strong blow to the head when the plane crashed into the side of the mountain. He was lucky, as nothing in his head ruptured and there was no internal bleeding. One of his arms was broken, and one of his ankles was twisted. He suffered a long cut across his lip, and a series of others all over his body—luckily none of which were too damaging. He was bruised all over.

  By some miracle though, John Torrens woke up hours after the crash, and was able to pull himself to his feet. It should go without saying that John was in a state of shock when he looked at the plane’s ruins. His co-workers (and good friends) were dead in the wreckage.

  John was able to walk away—or better yet, limp away from the crash site. His body was sore. His muscles screamed in pain. He didn’t know where he was, how long he had been out, or what to do. John never had any survival training. He didn’t know how to start a fire. He didn’t know how to make a smoke signal. He simply did not know how to survive without society.

  But he had no other choice but to try.

  John, following his ears, found a small stream with clear running water in it. He hobbled over to it, fell to his knees and began to clean his wounds out. He held a particularly bad cut on his arm in the water and watched as the stream turned red with his blood. He sat for a while, tearing apart his shirt and making bandages for his deeper wounds. Then, he drank some of the water and started to follow the stream, hoping it would eventually lead to a river, and subsequently a town or even just a road.

  With his wounds, John was not able to make it very far. He was able to walk about ten kilometres before the pain in his ankle was just too strong to power through. The sun was beginning to set and the weather was quickly dropping. John found shelter in the hollow of a fallen tree, up against a soft mossy wall. He curled his body up tight, and tried to sleep.

  All he could think about was his beautiful young wife, sitting at home. “I wonder if they’ve told her they lost us,” John wondered. “What will she do if I don’t make it back?”

  As the trees became black, the air became crisp and frigid. Thick goose bumps began to form all over John’s body. The howling of distant wolves kept John up late into the fall night. But eventually, John managed to fall asleep.

  John woke up the next morning, feeling ill. Before he even opened his eyes, he begged to God that everything had been a dream. He kept telling himself over and over, “It was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.” He would have had himself convinced had it not been for the mountain-fresh air, the babbling of the cold-water brook and the chirping of nearby native birds. Eventually, John opened his eyes and returned to reality.

  He pulled himself to his feet. His twisted ankle had become painfully swollen over night and was nearly impossible to walk on. Luckily, there was a long fallen branch nearby which made for a wonderful crutch. Slowly, John continued his trek down the stream.

  Hope was undoubtedly dwindling. Sore wounds were becoming impossibly more painful. The only thing driving John’s body was the image of his beautiful wife. The realistic fear began to set in that John may well die, lost in the unforgiving Canadian wilderness.

  Energy depleted, John collapsed next to the crackling stream. His vision began to blur as blood began to leave his brain. As he slipped out of consciousness, he noticed a glimmering by a nearby tree. But the image quickly faded as John passed out on the cold hard ground.

  * * *

  It was three days after the private jet John Torrens boarded went missing that John’s wife was notified. The police didn’t notify Susan of the accident, nor did just any MJL Oil and Gas employee. Susan received her notification from the big man himself—Markus Larson.

  He arrived at her door at around five in the evening, wearing a black suit and a black tie. Markus had a reputation for being somewhat of a “phoney”, and he was extra sure to put on his best grieving face as Susan answered the door. Markus slowly looked up from his feet at the unsuspecting Susan.

  “Susan Torrens?” Markus asked softly and uncharacteristically.

  “Yes, why?”

  Markus hesitated a moment, and then explained the situation to John’s wife. He made sure to hammer in that “it would be nearly impossible for John to be alive”, and that “it wasn’t MLJ Oil and Gas’ fault the plane went down”.

  Susan was destroyed. She cried as her legs went weak. Markus stepped into John’s house and helped Susan to the couch where he sat her down to console her. He placed his chubby hand gently on her shoulder and forced out a tear of his own.

  “You shouldn’t be alone, Mrs. Torrens,” Markus said. “I can have someone come look after you if you don’t have anywhere to go.”

  “No—I’d rather be alone,” Susan managed to say through her uncontrollable tears.

  Markus handed her his card with his phone number on it. He smiled. “If you need anything—Anything at all. Don’t hesitate to call me, and I will make it happen.”

  “Thank you,” Susan said softly, wiping her tear-soaked face.

  “I will come back in the morning to check on you. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  “Goodbye, Susan.”

  * * *

  Another unknown amount of time had passed before John finally woke up again. It must have been quite a while, seeing as the sun was just beginning to rise, and it wasn’t long after it had risen when John passed out.

  John pulled his cold, sore body up and he looked around. Small snowflakes were beginning to fall from the sky. John was hungry. His lips were cracked and his tongue was as dry as cardboard. He tried to walk, but his legs trembled and he fell back to the ground.

  “This is it,” he thought to himself. “This is the end of my life.”

  John took a deep breath. A tear rolled down his cheek as he stared up at the cold grey sky. “Just take me,” he said. “I can’t bare this any longer.”

  John rolled his head to the side. Then, he saw it again: The glimmer next to the tree that he had seen before. He stared at it for a moment before rolling over onto his knees and painfully crawling towards it.

  Sitting next to the tree was a dull, golden oil lamp. Gently with his trembling hands, John picked it up. He lifted it up into the light and turned it. It was covered in finely hand crafted detailing, which was too dirty too make out.

  John took the oil lamp and rubbed it against his body. Suddenly, a whirl of smoke began to pour out the spout of the lamp. John, startled, dropped the bottle onto the ground. He began to shimmy his body backwards, away from the ostensibly exploding lamp.

  More and more smoke billowed out of the peculiar instrument. Strangely, the smoke was appearing to form something. John t
ook a breath and assumed it was a starving hallucination. He had heard about monks having hallucinations after days of fasting.

  But as more smoke left the lamp, John began to doubt his hallucination theory. The smoke was forming what appeared to be a person. John’s shocked brain was frozen, unable to process what he was seeing. The smoke started to dissipate. In front of John stood a tall, interesting man. He was skinny, with dark trimmed facial hair. He stood completely naked, yet he did not appear to be cold, or shy about his body. He looked around. His eyes flashed.

  “I have been awoken,” the man said.

  It took John a moment, but finally he realized that this was no man. He had found a genie. He couldn’t believe it. It was unbelievable. He opened his mouth to speak but could not out of utter disbelief.

  “My name is Djabahn. You have awoken me from a fifty thousand year imprisonment.”

  “Im—Imprisonment?” John was able to speak.

  “A cruel lord locked me in that lamp. I am forever in debt to you.”

  John stared at the man.

  “Are you a genie?” John asked.

  “I know not what is a genie.”

  “H—How were you in that lamp?”

  Djabahn looked confused. “I was put in it by a most powerful lord.”

  John didn’t know what to do. He thought for a moment as the strange creature simply stood in silence. “Can you help me?” John asked.

  “Help you? I will do anything for you.”

  “Anything?” John asked.

  “Hm,” Djabahn thought. “Perhaps not anything. I would like to finally go and see the world. Perhaps I could just do, say, three things for you.”

  “So you are a genie,” John said.

  “Perhaps I am, but I have never heard such a word.”

  “Please heal my wounds. I am in a lot of pain,” John said, using his first wish.

  “Very well,” Djabahn said.

  Without the wave of a hand, the snap of a finger or even the blink of an eye, John had returned to perfect health. He stood up to his feet in amazement. “I—I don’t believe it…”