THE SEX GENIE - CHAPTER II - Meeting Margaret (Patreon)

Margaret Bowing caught herself staring into the mirror. She'd sat down in the changing room to take off some of the make-up from the photo shoot, and gotten lost in the examination of every little line and wrinkle she could still see under the foundation.

She leaned back and repeated to herself a few times how sexy she still was. Is, she corrected. Margaret had been modeling for twenty years, was only in her early forties, and knew she was still attractive. After all, she'd just modeled the sexy silk bralette and panties she was still wearing. She gently played with the well-curled loop of brunette locks that rested atop her shoulders.

But standing next to the other young models, all so seemingly effortlessly attractive and energetic, always put Margaret in this type of mood. She glanced down at her breasts, nicely puffed up thanks to the push-up bra, but she'd long been considering some work to address the slight sagging they'd begun showing. She'd noticed a few of the cute male models giving her some unprofessional - but welcomed - glances, and the thought of taking one aside, stripping down, and letting those hunky twenty-somethings see beyond the fantasy...well, it gave Margaret a little shiver.

She did let a finger slide down her belly and play with the lace just above her slit. One model, Roger Bentley, had especially let a few looks over her linger. Margaret let her mind wander back to her twenty-first birthday when she and another Roger - this one Whitmore, and the college football quarterback - had spent nearly the entire day in her dorm, the musk of their lengthy love-making seeping down the hallway. Margaret had been so eager to take up any young man's advances back then - now the idea of spending a day in bed with this Roger was an exhausting thought.

Margaret realized her finger had actually slipped under her panties and into her pussy - which wasn't nearly as wet as Margaret felt her recollection should have made her. She pulled it out, gritted her teeth with a shake of her head, and began to remove the make-up.

Then came the knock on the door.

"Margaret, are you in there? May I come in?"

That was the voice of Roger. Margaret blushed as she briefly considered opening the door in only the panties and bra, but reconsidered at the last moment. She grabbed the matching silk robe from a hook and tied it around herself before opening the door. She left the robe loose enough to give a fair view of her cleavage.

"Hello, Roger, what can I do for...you...?"

Roger had not yet changed - or, more accurately, dressed - since the shoot had ended. Margaret had opened the door to receive a good look at a very nicely toned and tanned young man in nothing but tighty-wighties - which did nothing to hide the bulge between his thighs that was noticeably larger.

"Well, uh, some of us were going to meet up at the bar down the street a bit later, and I was, well, thinking about you..." Roger let his body language clearly indicate that his thoughts about Margaret had elicited the additional mass within the white fabric, "...and I just wanted to let you know about it, and how happy I'd be if you joined us."

If Margaret had considered herself flushed earlier now she was beat red. And loving the attention.

But she wasn't in her twenties anymore. She no longer didn't think any further ahead than what fun the evening would hold. And that not all the evidence of her older age would be obscured by the dark.

"I'll most certainly consider the invitation, Roger, thank you so much," Margaret flashed her sweetest smile. It wasn't enough to keep Roger from showing for a moment his disappointment that the response wasn't a firmer Yes, but he kept his grin, nodded, and vanished down the hall.

"Got, I love to watch him walk away..." Margaret sighed, practically melting against the door frame as she watched Roger's firm ass sway back and forth within his little underwear. She could smell the deep scent of his cologne drifting in the air.

Then Margaret caught herself lingering like a freshman in a coed dorm. She went back into her room and closed the door. As she crossed to the chair she caught sight of her legs in the mirror. They'd always been her best feature, toned by track runs through high school and into college. Out of all her assets they were the least touched by age. She caressed her smooth calf, twirled a little to let the silk robe lift and tease a glimpse of her thighs. Admiring her legs put Margaret back in a better mood.

"I think I'll paint my toes before I head home..." the model mused, and as she returned to the chair she looked over the little bottles of polish lined up against the wall. They were all the same brand - save for one on the end. The bottle was slightly fancier than the others, and bright purple visible within the glass. Margaret didn't recall seeing this one before.

"My, aren't you a nice tone..." she smiled as she lifted up the bottle and twisted the cap, "You'll look lovely on my - OH!"

Margaret was pushed back into her chair by a release of pressure from the bottle. She dropped it and it landed on its side. She was fearful that polish was going to run anywhere, but what purple liquid did pour out swung upwards into the air. An impossible amount of material oozed out more and more, climbing higher and higher towards the ceiling. Soon it stopped its ascent and instead began filling outwards, slowly forming the silhouette of a well endowed woman. Once the form was complete the color shifted to a green, details and features becoming sharper until Rhyssa the Sex Genie had completely manifested before Margaret, complete with the gossamer cover over her chest and bands on her arms.

"Greetings, Mistress, I am Rhyssa and I am able to grant you three wishes..." the genie crossed her arms under her breasts and bowed, their supernatural mass bobbing in the air. "Know there are limits to my power, that-"

"A real...a real genie?" Margaret interrupted Rhyssa's speech, which she expected of her mistresses. Margaret rudely took a finger and poked the lower portion of Rhyssa's tail, close to where her green foamy genie substance transitioned to the purple polish which slipped back into her bottle, "Fuck, a real genie!"

"Yes, yes I am, Mistress. Would you like to hear my-"

"Does it matter if I just want you to make me younger again?" Margaret interrupted. Rhyssa tried to hold back a sigh.

"I can make you as young as eighteen, yes," replied the green genie.

"Oh, no need to go that young! What's the fun of youth if you can't drink at a bar?" Margaret asked herself. Rhyssa was used to hearing many questions she wasn't expected to actually answer.

"So you already have thoughts about your first wish, Mistress?" Rhyssa asked.

"Yes! I wish I had the same looks, body, and lust that I had when I turned twenty-one, except naturally hairless from the neck down and that puberty had given me firm, full tits twice as big!"