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COLLATERAL DAMAGE.

By Wyrdey

Really, the problem isn't that people never think their wishes through... Well, I mean, yeah of course that's a problem. Kind of a big one. 

But, really, the much MUCH bigger problem is that people never really think the whole CONCEPT of wishes through.

Reality has to stay consistent, everything still kinda has to make sense and follow some sort of standard cause-and-effect pattern in the world after you've made your three dumb, predicable, not-at-all-thought-through wishes.

It all has to COME from somewhere, it all has to happen for a REASON. 

Do you have any notion how many untold billions of changes to history need to happen to get you that supermodel wife, you moron? 

Yes, changes to history. Inconceivable ones. So many entire lives rewritten, the course of so many great nations altered - or obliterated.

Why does no one ever think about just how heavy all this stuff is?

Seriously, messing around with this kind of shit is how you get penguins.

Or camels.

Or baseball.

Or male nipples. 

But do you think about that?

NOOO! You just want your million dollars and your harem of lingerie models.

I mean, look at this dumb fuck:

Late 30s, single, seriously balding, majorly overweight, lives in his parent's basement. 

A true inspiration for the children.

He gets drunk one evening and discovers that that junky looking statue he found in an alleyway and was planning on using as part of some ill-conceived prank contains a genie.

Happens every day. 

He, of course, doesn't really believe the muscular bald man suddenly standing in his apartment, and vaguely suspects that his outfit might somehow be slightly racist, but he's drunk and impressed enough by that ridiculous puff-of-smoke appearance, so he jokingly thinks 'Why not?'.

Why not, indeed?

So he makes his joke wish, the kind you would expect.

Oh yeah, if you're a real genie, then I wish that there were three horny bimbo cheerleaders knocking at my door right now, begging me to fuck their brains out...

You know: originality. Imagination. That kind of thing.

The Djinn are a fascinating bunch that it's impossible not to respect. I think I respect them the most for managing to never once roll their eyes.

Truly superhuman.

This ancient being of inconceivable power from another dimension, bound into slavery by the mad power of King Solomon millennia ago, naturally has no idea what 'Cheerleaders' or 'Bimbos' or really anything that he just said means, so it has to examine his sluggish, drunken thoughts for a bit. Wading through those concepts in his mind, images born of internet porn and sleazy 80s movies and teenage wet dreams.

How much of any of this such a being can really understand is debatable, of course, but it can clearly see that no such creatures exist nearby, are likely to, are going to have any reason to be in the neighbourhood, or are going to be driven by uncontrollable lust to beg this specimen for his seed. 

Clearly, some significant changes are required.

But, then, that's what it does.

'It is done' (or something roughly similar), it says as it snaps its fingers and sends waves of changes careening through history.

... And spare a thought for those caught in the eye of those changes. For those poor bastards, things can get WEIRD...

**************

9:00am that morning:

Richard Caldwell mentally cursed those damn kids. 

He didn't even get the joke, but their dedication to their vandalism really couldn't be faulted. It must have been so hard to get up there to change that sign. And somehow the new one didn't just look perfectly professional, but actually had just enough wear and damage to really give the impression that it had been there for years.

And so now, instead of he and his employees driving past the familiar 'Caldwell and sons' sign, they were passing a large, elaborately lettered sign announcing that they were entering 'St. Jezebel's School for Bad Girls'.

Kids these days - he blamed the internet.

As he walked into the office, he tried to make a mental note to call someone about replacing that sign... He tried to, but for some reason it didn't seem very urgent all of a sudden.

Like that sign somehow SHOULD be there.

He shrugged as his approached his secretary's desk. 

Margaret Warner had, as always, arrived early. She was truly a treasure, that one. There was no secretary anywhere more reliable or devoted to her work.

She saw him approaching, and glanced up, clearly flustered.

'Um, sir, there's...'

'I've seen it, Margaret', he replied. 'I don't get the jape, myself, but someone seems to have taken a lot of trouble with that sign.'

Margaret blinked. '... The sign?'

'Yes, it'll... Have you done something with your hair?'

Looking at her up close, something seemed almost surprisingly different about her.

Did she seem... older? Taller? 

Her hair was up in an uncharacteristically severe bun, that must be it.

'Looks good on you, I didn't know you went in for that kind of hairstyle.' 

Margaret's hands moved towards her head. 'Hairstyle...?' she still seemed just as flustered as earlier as Richard swept past her into his office.

Well, this was really going too far!

Where his big, imposing mahogany desk usually stood, there was instead one of those cheap chair/desk combinations. Like you would have found in a high school in the 1970s.

Richard briefly considered asking Margaret about this, but for some reason instead walked over and squeezed into it quite naturally, stowing his briefcase into the little cage under the seat. 

He lifted the well-worn pine desk top and extracted some papers he'd been working on the day before. His hand grabbed something else too.

He stared at it.

Lipgloss. Sparkly, bubblegum pink. Indeed, it had the colour name 'BUBBLESLUT' in big, silly pink letters next to a lasciviously winking cartoon face. It smirked up at him, pigtails flying, open mouth tonguing poutily at a cherry-red lollipop. 

The brand name was 'BJ Dreams, by Lolita'.

He pondered this as he smeared it across his pouting lips, his tongue peaking out just enough to catch that perfect, familiar taste of bubblegum. 

He felt like this should concern him more, especially as he touched up his matching eyeshadow and took a moment to practice his kittenish pout in his new handmirror.

But for whatever reason, it really didn't. He carried on his work for a bit, unconsciously twirling his hair.

He only really decided to leave his office and check on the rest of the building after he realised how much better he was now fitting behind his desk.

And that he was wearing slutty little panties. 

****************

11am, that morning:

'Shouldn't we be more freaked out?' Richard asked as he examined his blossoming breasts in the mirror.

All the rooms were moving around so much that it had really taken him a while to find the bathroom. The girl's bathroom.

The only bathroom.

There was a whole line of people already there, holding their shirts open... Well, their blouses, the buttons seemed to have jumped sides at some point.

'I guess so', Bill Garrett said, experimentally shaking his chest. 

He was very jiggly. His big, saucy nipples bounced away happily.

Richard bit his lip and tried to suppress a sudden twinge of jealousy.

He wasn't as big as Bill. Not yet anyway - despite being bigger than most adult women, their assets were clearly still at the 'Junior High Tits' level of development. He looked down the line of chests being examined and speculatively prodded around him.

Perky cone shapes predominated - a few could be said to firmly fall into the 'Banana boobs' category. They hadn't started to get that rounded teenybopper look... Yet.

He gingerly poked at one of his upturned nipples, and shivered.

It felt so soft and wobbly and tingly and strange and different and... Nice.

He really didn't need to be jealous of Bill though, he idly pondered, turning side to side.

Bill's melons might be a big bigger, but his were definitely more pert and shapely.

In fact, he thought with a tiny smirk, his bust was probably one of the most well-formed ones here.

'Has...' Wayne Erickson whispered hesitantly, his bell-like soprano barely audible. 'Has anyone else started thinking about... Boys?' 

There was a guilty pause, before the blushes started to give the answer away.

A few nervous titters filled the room.

Richard was taken aback - he actually really hadn't...

'Not boys...' Bill suddenly interjected, his deep blush punctuating his confession. 'MEN. I just can't stop imagining a guy in his late 30s maybe... Bald and kinda greasy... Really fat...'

He licked his swollen pink lips.

'... Lives in his parent's basement maybe... And... And...'

He was unable to go on, overcome with lust. He just stood there, panting, his blush spread from his face to the big perfect melons that he was still proudly thrusting at the mirror.

Wayne's face creased. 'Ew... What? No - I mean like one of those boybands you see on TV'

Everyone seemed a bit confused by Bill's comment, a stray giggle or two drifted in from the edge of the room. 

Richard was biting hard at his lip, fighting for the first time an urge to cover his breasts, lest someone glance over and notice just how red and swollen his nipples had become from hearing Bill's fantasy.

OH GOD! HE COULD JUST *SEE* THAT GUY! SITTING THERE, SCRATCHING AT THE ROLLS OF FAT PROTRUDING FROM BENEATH HIS GRIMY, MUSTARD-AND-SWEAT STAINED SHIRT! OH SHIT! HE DIDN'T THINK HE'D EVER EVEN IMAGINED SOMETHING SO ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HOT SO FUCKING HOT SO FUCKING FUCKING HAWT!!!

He bit down savagely on his heavily-glossed lower lip, vainly trying to contain his moan of desire.

He felt like his face was on fire, he felt like his tingling nipples might pop...

The person next to him glanced over, apparently having heard his stifled little sex sound, but before they could say anything...

'Oh god!' a voice came from the end of the line. 'Did... Did my boobies just get bigger?'

There was a moment of silence, then...

Roger gasped as his rack suddenly, wobbily, exploded up a few cup sizes.

Everyone else wasn't far behind.

Richard gave a little yelp as his center of gravity noticeably shifted and he received what strippers and porn stars usually have to pay through the nose for. 

He quickly glanced over at Bill... But, no - Bill was still slightly ahead, his creamy melon-tits still dancing prettily on his chest as he glanced down stupidly at them.

Pfft. So bimbos always have the biggest tits. Let them!

It wasn't as if he wasn't stacked like a...

Everyone suddenly gasped as a new piece of information simultaneously hit each of them.

'We have to study!' Richard squeaked as he commenced trying to cram his endowments back into his shirt.

They were far from finished developing, of course - but he didn't know that...

Yet.

*********************

2:00 pm:

Everyone filtered in hesitantly, many still pulling at their new much-too-short plaid skirts.

The room was quite a large one, row after row of those cheap pine desks were here. Everyone seemed to know where theirs was.

The room was full of rows of confused, sweetly-innocent-but-heavily-made-up faces when Margaret Warner finally wandered in, looking more lost and confused than any of them.

'Um...' she began nervously as she came to a halt in front of the blackboard at the front.

'I... I...' she stopped, fidgeting with her new horn-rimmed glasses. 

They were part of the general change in her look. Her outfit was very conservative and serious... Though with perhaps an oddly short skirt, and certainly a surprisingly plunging neckline.

Everyone sat and watched her silently, their backs reflexively straight and knees together. Sitting like good little girls should when they are under scrutiny.

Margaret tried again. 'Um... I think... I think we should... NORMAN WEBER, ARE YOU CHEWING GUM IN MY CLASS!?!!?'

Norman recoiled behind his desk, his blossoming breasts jiggling visibly behind his tight blouse.

'I... I am!' he said in surprise, and blew a huge neon pink bubble to demonstrate.

His crossed eyes were staring down as it eventually burst, and he slurped the gum back into his mouth, snapping loudly as he resumed chewing.

Margaret was distinctly unamused.

'Well, get rid of it or - so help me, little Missy - I'll take you across my knee!'

Norman was so shocked he swallowed his gum.

'You'd do that?'

Everyone looked at Margaret as she seemed to wrestle with the answer.

'I... I think I would!' she eventually answered. She bit her lip as, unbidden, the image came into her mind of her sitting before the class, an overripe little bimbo squealing and writhing across her lap, skirt flipped up to reveal that jiggling bubble butt as her hand came down again and again and again...

'... And I think I'd like it!' she whispered to herself in shock, suddenly aware of the reddening of her cheeks and the visible hardening of her nipples.

Every back suddenly straightened even further, row after row of perky teen titties being nervously outthrust for her inspection.

Margaret coughed and tried to move on.

'Um... Anyway, we...'

She suddenly became aware of something in her pocket.

'Oh yes, I'm supposed to give someone...' she pulled out what appeared to be a tiny pink cobweb and unfolded it into an almost comically scanty piece of lingerie. She held up the miniscule pair of lacy panties.

'Kandi Buns? Is Kandi Buns here?'

There was an extended pause.

'Kandi Buns!' Margaret called again.

It had been a long time in coming, but - sitting with delicate hands folded daintily in his lap and overstuffed bosoms pushed firmly out - Richard started to feel an edge of actual irritation, possibly even mild annoyance, at the ridiculousness of what was transpiring.

He fixed Margaret with his brattiest pout. 

'They're not here!' he said. 'Obviously no one here is called...'

'Um... Here!' a little voice called from the back row.

Everyone turned around.

Kandi looked most surprised of all. 'My... My name is Kandi Buns...' he said to himself, blushing heavily.

The person sitting next to them snorted, 'No it isn't, Kandi! Your name is...', he suddenly stopped, stricken.

Of course Kandi's name was Kandi. What else could it be?

The edge of Margaret's lip twitched.

'Well, Miss Buns, it seems you left your panties in the principal's office...' she broke off briefly to mouth 'We have a principal?', before returning her attention to the hotly blushing, pulling-at-their-skirt figure in the back row. 'You can pick them up from me after class, I have a few words I want to say to you...'

Kandi blushed even deeper.

'... And as for you!' Margaret rounded on Richard. 'Raise your voice to me like that again, Lexi, and you'll be seeing the principal next!'

Lexi blinked in confusion. His name wasn't Lexi, it was... 

Lexi.

Lexi Baby. 

HIS NAME WAS LEXI BABY HIS NAME WAS LEXI BABY HIS NAME...

Margaret had since turned back to the blackboard, clearly feeling a lot more confident now.

'First, class - we will...'

A loud gasp went up behind her.

The way she turned back around was slow, dangerous, her grip tightening on the cane she was pointing at the board.

She surveyed the rows of suddenly pale faces, hands pressed against their laps.

The first, hesitant hand went up.

'Yessssss...?' she asked, eyes narrowed.

'Um, Miss Lash... May I go to the bathroom, please?' Bill Garrett asked, his face still colourless.

There was a chorus of nods.

Margaret's eyes narrowed further.

'And why do you want to do that, Kitty...?'

Kitty Vixen looked stricken for a moment, meeting the gaze of the people sitting around her.

'Um... Well... Because...'

Margaret slapped her cane across the nearest desk, sending its occupant recoiling out of their chair. 

'What is it with today? JUST TELL ME, KITTY AND SO HELP ME IT HAD BETTER BE THE TRUTH OR I WILL...'

'I think I might have a pussy!' Kitty blurted out, her manicured hand still pressed hard into her skirt. 'I THINK I MIGHT HAVE A TIGHT JUICY LITTLE VIRGIN PUSSY! I CAN FEEEEEL IT! IT'S SO HOT AND MOIST AND DEEP AND GIRLY AND JUST FEELS SO VERY...'

'ENOUGH!' Margaret roared, slapping her cane so hard it almost broke.

A room full of big boggling eyes stared back at her.

'... Um... I mean...', Margaret said, trying to recover herself. 'I think that's enough, Kitty. I feel like the class has all heard enough about your tight little pussy for one lesson'

She awkwardly turned back towards the board, Kitty biting her lip and finally recovering her colour in an overwhelming blush. 

'Now, if you'll all turn to page 57 of your books on...'

She examined the cover of the substantial, old-looking textbook.

'Advanced Cockteasing - Jailbait Edition, and who can tell me the seven different uses of titty wiggling?'

*******************

6pm:

'I swear to god, the road should go through right around here!'

The cute little pink compact car was just the kind of thing that you would expect to be carrying three teen cheerleaders to a game.

Stereotypes win again, I guess.

'Lexi, we can't be late for the game! Miss Lash said she'd confiscate our panties for a month!' Kitty Vixen quailed, anxiously toying with her pom poms. 

If their school uniforms had reached 'Porn star Halloween costume' levels of skimpiness towards the end of the day, their cheer uniforms might have been even more ridiculous.

Every bump in that road had been a near escape for three of the most dream-perfect examples of teenage mammary development that this planet has ever known.

Lexi Baby's eyes continued to scan the seemingly endless suburban streets that stood between their school and the playing field where they were apparently expected to perkily jiggle the evening away.

Her pout was verging on the nuclear.

'It doesn't even make sense!', she muttered. 'Our school doesn't have any boys, so we have to go cheer for a different school? How does that even...'

A barely-muffled moan drifted from the back seat.

Lexi's mood did not improve.

'I swear to god, Bambi-Rose...!'

Bambi-Rose Delilah didn't even bother to take her hand out of her panties. 'I can't help it!' she whined, 'I just feel so WET and TINGLY all the time, and then I start thinking about fat guys with beer bellies and bald spots... OH! And mustard stains on their shirts, and OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD...'

She was squeezing under her top now too, her tiny skirt dancing with the force of her frantic diddling.

Lexi and Kitty both swallowed heavily, their faces flushed and nipples hard under their skin-tight tops.

'... Goddammit, Bambi-Rose! I told you, I need to concentrate and you're really not helping me at all with your talk of...'

She noticed that Kitty was now not-so-subtly rubbing at herself too. Their eyes met and Kitty was just about to weakly try out her innocent look when the engine suddenly sputtered and stopped.

The car rolled to a stop.

'Great!', Lexi shouted. 'GREAT! And my phone's dead...'

'Mine too', Kitty tossed in. Bambi-Rose made what sounded like an agreeing moan.

It was around now that Lexi noticed that their manicured fingers hadn't even slowed down in their furtive itch-scratching. Kitty was biting at her lip, her eyes hooded.

Lexi sighed to herself.

'... Could this get any worse?'

It was then that it started to rain.

***********

'Oh yeah, if you're a real genie, then I wish that there were three horny bimbo cheerleaders knocking at my door right now, begging me to fuck their brains out...'

His smirk wasn't doing his already not-great features any favours.

An inscrutable look for just a second, then: 'IT IS DONE!'

God, he'd even snapped his fingers.

The schmuck opened his mouth to retort and... 

The hesitant little knock at the door.

No fucking way.

But, seriously, this joker - whoever he was - had some great timing.

He tried to close his mouth in a way that hid his astonishment, and instead give a kind of disinterested sneer. 

A look that says 'I'll be back in just a second to shout "... AND ANOTHER THING!!!", so get ready for that!'

He slouched over to the front door (even that looked somehow seedy), threw it open, ready to chase the Mormons away, and...

The three girls most certainly WOULD have looked out of place in a porno... But only because no director in history would ever be able to locate three specimens so impossibly sexy.

The rain had soaked their ludicrously scanty uniforms, making them cling even more perfectly to the warm, topologically unlikely teenage curves beneath. Their swollen nipples were so perfectly outlined.

The idiot was totally, embarrassingly hard even before the three angelic faces had finished looking up at him.

They were even holding pom poms for some entirely nonsensical reason - like in a scene from a movie where the director had so little respect for his audience's intelligence that he had to ensure that everything was cartoonishly spelt out at all times.

The girl who had apparently done the knocking brushed her damp-but-somehow-more-perfect-than-perfection-itself hair from her face. On anyone else it would have looked like awkward fidgeting, but with her it was painfully sensuous and effortlessly graceful fidgeting, and made her seem so very, very adorably vulnerable.

'Oh, gosh mister!' she breathed, the soft, luminous gold of her hair caressing her shoulders and clinging to the momentous cleavage that her top so perfectly displayed.

He'd been actually, literally painfully erect, and at the sound of her voice a small detached part of him started to wonder if his penis could actually explode.

Try to imagine something between 'Breathy Porn Coo' and 'Sexy Baby Purr', but obviously much more erotic.

'We're EVER so glad that you're home!' Her crystal blue eyes were so wide with shy earnestness.

'We're... We're all students at St. Jezebel's School for Bad Girls and we were just on our way to a game and our car broke down right outside your house and it started raining and...'

She broke off, slightly blushing from what she abruptly realised was rambling.

She blinked, collecting herself. Her tongue played briefly across her pouty, pink-glossed lips.

'OHGODOHGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD'.

He suddenly became aware that one of the girls behind her was rubbing her thighs together like a cricket as she looked him up and down.

Her face was very flushed, and she didn't seem to be aware that she was gabbling to herself just under her breath.

The other girl was biting hard at her lip as her eyes were locked on his pants' agonisingly distended crotch. She suddenly noticed him looking and blushed as she looked away.

Her nipples seemed somehow even more prominent than earlier.

Three pairs of swollen lips were delicately damp and parted, three glistening bosoms heaved with every panted breath, three pairs of fluffy pom-poms were clutched white-knuckle hard in dainty little hands...

The first girl seemed to have recovered herself, she gazed up, so heartbreakingly beautiful.

'Mister, we're all lost and... Wet', she leaned forward earnestly, giving an even more perfect glimpse down her overflowing top. Drops slowly, teasingly brushed across her cheek, across her shoulders, across her long legs, across the curves of her breasts.

'Our car's broken and our phones are dead and it's raining and I just feel so little and cold and scared.'

A fat drop traced her midriff and vanished into the top of her tiny skirt.

'We really need to dry off and make some calls... I know it's a big inconvenience, but I guess what I'm asking is...

Can I suck your cock?'

The girl next to her reacted with shock. 

'Lexi!'

Lexi pouted kittenishly. 'Why do *I* always have to be the mature one?' she asked, stamping a little foot. 'I'm just as horny as you or Bambi-Rose and what do you EXPECT me to do when I meet...'

Three pairs of iridescent doe eyes were burning into him now.

'... The sexiest man ON EARTH...'

She could only whisper it, her face flushed with her arousal. Fingers were openly if unconsciously starting to move across nipples now.

'I... I... Just feel so TINGLY and my lil pussy just feels so TIGHT and VIRGIN-Y and WRONG... And I just feel so UNFUCKED!'

Bambi-Rose was bouncing up and down now, furiously nodding her agreement.

'I'm all Goooooshy!' she shouted.

Lexi was openly panting now. 

'Mister, if someone doesn't fuck my face soon, I think I might pop... Seriously, can that happen? Can you die from being too virgin-y? Because I feel like I might! OH GOD I NEED A MAN IN MY HOT LITTLE THROAT AND MY TIGHT STEAMING PUSSY AND ALL OVER MY FAT TITTIES AND...'

Kitty tried to push past her.

'Can you fuck my ass, Mister? I REALLY need someone in my ass right now!'

********************

6:15pm:

He'd lasted about as long as you would expect.

Actually, that's a lie - he'd lasted about half that long.

He'd outlasted the girls by ridiculously long though. They'd had their first, screaming, collective orgasm when he'd vaguely waved them into his house in a way that suggested he wasn't entirely opposed to fucking them.

Lexi Baby had revived first, perhaps by the implied agreement that she could suck his cock. 

Like, SHE could actually, FOR REAL, get down on her knees, stare up into his eyes, try to keep her panting just below hyperventilation levels, open her mouth and wrap her lips around his... His... 

She'd come three times just moving into position, but had heroically fought through it, managed to get to the point where she was squealing loudly - or trying to with that dick thrusting into her slurping mouth - her eyes locked down, cross-eyed, trying to take it in. The reality of it. The greasiness of it. The hairiness of it. Oh fuck - the TASTE of it.

She really wanted to SUCK on his dick, wanted to explore every wrinkle and vein and inch of him with her thick lips and hot, quick little tongue, while making a seal and slurping happily away.

There was no real technique, just curiosity and ecstasy and need. Need to feel all of that cock with her lips, need to feel it filling her mouth, need to feel it in her throat. 

She facefucked like a real virgin, in other words - and that somehow made everything even hotter. Her innocence somehow evident even in her lust and sheer cock-greed. God, she wanted so much cock in her mouth, she wanted IT ALL!

She continuously fought to keep her eyes from rolling up into her head, fight to retain consciousness of her rapture for just a few more moments.

Her muffled peeps of unrestrained ecstasy had eventually stirred her squadmates from their mindblown oblivion.

"Oh wow, Lexi! OH WOW!" They'd shouted, barely able to contain their excitement. "YOU'RE DOING IT! YOU'RE SUCKING HIS COCK! YOU'RE A REAL COCKSUCKER, LEXI BABY! A COCKSUCKING BIMBO CHEERLEADER!"

Their excitement and pushing past each other to see better had quickly escalated into joyous giggles and shouted encouragement, then to excited bouncing and pleas to be allowed to go next, and eventually into full, pom-pom waving bounces and kicks and jumps and cheers.

He had Lexi's pigtails in his hands now, sweat dripping down his red, scrunched face, glasses completely fogged as he thrust mechanically into that wide-eyed lust-drunk face.

Kitty's boobs popped almost fully out of her top on her second, leg-splaying jump.

"Oh gosh, Bambi-Rose! Lexi really wants ALL that dick in her mouth, doesn't she!??!!?", Kitty gasped, her arms waving her pom-poms high above her head.

"Oh yeah - and he's fucking her slutty face sssooooooo hard! Oh look! - her lipgloss is ALL over his cock! Oooooooo - I bet it tastes just like bubblegum now!" Bambi-Rose giggled as she bounced and shook her ass.

"Oh yummy!" Kitty cheered. "I hope he lets me add my strawberry flavour before he pops my lil Cherry!"

"OMG! Look at Lexi's panties! She's, like, totally DRIPPING !"

"OH! OH! I AM TOO!"

"ME THREE! ME THREE!"

Kitty and Bambi-Rose had brushed up against each other as they excitedly jostled for the best position to watch the penis thrusting into their friend's gargling lips, and now they were squeezing against each other, their freed breasts squishing and rubbing against each other with their bounces.

"Oh, I want to him to make me into a lady SO BAD!"

"Do you think he'll be able to jizz all over my whore face after he fucks every one of my holes? GOD I HOPE SO!"

The two collapsed into a giggling mass on the ground, playfully kissing and unconsciously humping each other in the sexual frenzy of watching the fat old man give a mewl after moments of thrusting and spray into their squeaking friend's wide open mouth.

He'd perhaps done his best, but it's safe to say that the girl's cherries remained unpopped by the end of their impromptu orgy.

Not that any of them would have known - however embarrassing fast he'd been, they'd been so much faster and more embarrassing. They'd shrieked and blacked out from just feeling his genitalia approaching anything that could conceivably be described as an erogenous zone - and, on those girls, EVERYTHING was an erogenous zone.

...Anyway, after he was totally and completely spent, several minutes later, he'd eventually looked up from where he was slumped, largely naked and slicked with sweat and various juices, lying several steps from his front door, surrounded by moaning, semi-conscious bimbo cheerleaders of unparalleled lusciousness, and met the gaze of that bald weirdo in the corner.

Oh yeah - he was there too, wasn't he? Maybe he should have asked him to turn around or something.

He tried to cover his embarrassment by adjusting his sweat-dripping glasses in what he hoped was a haughty way.

"...AND ANOTHER THING!" He shouted.

*************************

I mean, I could continue. I could take this to the expected end by telling you how he had - with breathtaking foresight -  wished that he could fuck enough to really keep up with his new friends... Definitely a wise use of infinite power, even considering that he was both drunk, and an idiot.

I could tell you about how the four bimbo cheerleaders turned up at the game shamefully late, how they lost their pantie-privileges for a month, and were enthusiastically spanked in front of the laughing crowd.

I could tell you about how the pouting Lexi Baby, Kitty Vixen, Bambi-Rose Delilah, AND Britney Doll eventually lost their cherries to a flabby, sex-starved single father in the parking lot afterwards, but I feel like I've made something of my point.

... Now the observant among you may notice that there were THREE wishes, and only TWO were claimed.

Very well - I'll also mention the new Britney's moaned wish that someone would let her suck their dick.

The Djinn fulfilled that wish itself. 

A lot might conclude that this was simply a matter of efficiency, of wanting to minimise any further disruption to the fundamental fabric of existence, but it's possible that the more observant might have noticed something else in those firm, decisive thrusts into the mewling little bimbo's open mouth.

Business-like? Certainly. But perhaps in the yanks on her pigtails, the roughness of the thrusts down her eager throat, in the way it stared down hard at her slurping, cross-eyed face, it was possible to discern a certain contemptuous satisfaction.

Perhaps something of the almost endless repressed feelings of a being that has just had to spend several millennia watching idiots blunderingly twist and re-twist the totality of existence without a care or thought in their selfish, stupid little heads...

...Then again, perhaps lil Britney just had a really fuckable throat.