Day 72: Rubbing

Jennifer worked at a dildo factory. An “adult entertainment products” distributor. That’s how she phrased it to her parents. They thought she worked at an EB Games or something.

Most of the products were packaged in plastic, like any toy. Some were just-a hangin’ out there. She handled them with latex gloves. It wasn’t as though they were used or anything, but latex seemed like the optimal shield from them.

Really, working at the factory was like working at any factory. There was a production line, a conveyor belt, and boxes and boxes for days. It wasn’t until one of the “loose” toys rolled off the end of the conveyor belt and flopped around on the cement factory floor that she had to break out of her workaday trance.

She bent–she leaned over and picked up the sparkly purple toy and noticed it had some dust on it from the floor so, absently, she wiped away the dust.

That was when the genie came–popped–out.

It had been a calm, quiet day until then. Why now? What were the odds that a genie would just happen to be trapped in the one dildo that fell off the line? Maybe it was one of those “too-quiet” days. The calm before the storm. The dildo genie storm.

One of those days.

The genie was as purple and sparkly as his “bottle.” Like the Disney character, his bottom half below his belt was a wisp of magical smoke that led to the “lamp.” So, effectively, it looked like the “dildo” was his entire bottom half. This probably wasn’t important information, but Jennifer noticed it pretty quickly.

“Really?” the genie asked. “You rubbed me with your hand? Nobody does that anymore. Not even teenagers.”

“Are you disappointed?” Jennifer asked. Her coworkers were blown away–surprised–that, you know, genie, but somehow her life seemed just fucked up enough that this shouldn’t surprise her.

“Happy ending, whatever the destination,” said the genie. He lit a cigarette and puffed out purple smoke. “I’m not selfish, though. One wish.”

“Not three?”

“Women these days,” the genie said. “You used to not even get one. Whatever. Fine. Three wishes.”

“Uh, okay. So, like. A bottomless wallet. I just reach in and take out whatever amount I need.”

“Sure, alright,” said the genie, yawning and scratching under his arm. Sparkles fell out. “Number two?”

“I guess that covers most things. Maybe make me able to shapeshift? Like Mystique from the X-Men.”

“You just want to be blue and sparkly.”

“It’s a good aesthetic,” Jennifer nodded. And turned blue. Then she turned into Jennifer Lawrence. At least she wouldn’t be confused if someone called her name.

“Number three?”

“Your freedom.”

“What?”

“I saw that movie when I was a little girl. I learned that’s just what you do for your third wish.”

“Release a being that has the power to shape reality itself?”

“But you’re a good guy, right?”

“Eh.”

“Well then–”

“No takesie-backsies!” the genie suddenly shouted, his cigarette flying from his lips. His bottom half poofed into legs, and he was disconnected from his bottlelampdildo forever.

Imagine what would happen if an all-powerful being was released from all constraints. Now imagine what would happen if the same being was forced to be bound to a dildo.

The calm was over. The storm was just beginning.

 

 

Today’s three random prompt categories were, “An employee at a dildo factory,” “The calm before the storm,” and, “A genie.”

These things happen.

– H.

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