by grapehyacinth

Carleton, ex-wizard and recently-sentenced genie, sat back, watching an old movie version of the Aladdin myth. “Crappy effects, you can see the wires dangling from the damn magic carpet!” he yelled at the television set. He was silent for seconds. “You know, I could use one of those myself.”

The sound of rubbing met his ears. “Oh, damn,” he muttered.

He gave in to the magic pulling at him and rendering him into smoke. He poured out of the bottle and soon stood in front of an impeccably-dressed, handsome young man.

“Holy goddamn–”

Carleton cut him off. He was already sick of all the amazement and the “magic's not real” garbage. “Yeah, I'm a genie. I'm real. Holy crap, you get three wishes.” He gazed at the blonde man, who looked like some kind of underwear model. “Not that you need them.”

“Well, if you really can give me anything I want, I'm not going to ask for money. I have more than I will ever know what to do with. I'm probably the best trader on Wall Street–”

“My luck! I got a stockbroker,” Carleton mumbled to himself.

“We're not all bad,” the man protested.

“No, I'm sure some of you are okay.” But Carleton could already tell this man was not one of the “okay” ones. “What the hell is your name?”

“I'm Damon.”

“Carleton.”

“What kind of name is that for a genie?”

“What the hell do you want to call me?”

“Uh...Mr. Genie?”

Could the guy get any more original? Carleton shrugged. “Whatever.”

Damon paced in a circle, cracking his knuckles as he spoke. “So, let's see. I get three wishes? Well, I've got all I can ask for, I'm rich, tall, blonde, and handsome...”

Carleton rolled his eyes in disgust. “So what do you need a genie for, right?” If he could only turn this guy into a slug or cockroach and be done with him! “Reach into that deep soul of yours, buddy, and pull out your deepest desires,” the genie said sinisterly. Several wish suggestions ran through his head. Lust for women always brought out the best, easily-twistable wishes. “You have a wife?” He felt sorry for her if he did.

“God, no! Who needs to be tied down when I can have any woman I want? I mean, they flock to me!”

Carleton's very being was itching to do something horrible to the man, but he was hoping he would do it to himself with an idiotic wish. Then it wasn't truly the genie's fault...

“Well, everyone goes after me except Dianna. She's like the ice queen, the unobtainable... She won't even look at me...”

Ah, yes, a wish was forming... And Carleton was ready to destroy it!

“I wish I was a dress in her closet.”

“SOLD! To the stockbroker with the blonde hair!” Carleton cried triumphantly. And with a snap, they stood in a neat, all-white bedroom, a cavernous closet yawning before them. Before Damon could speak, he fell limply over Carleton's outstretched arm, softening and re-shaping into a lovely blue gown.

As his surprised features melted away, he tried to cry out, but Carleton only laughed. “Isn't it a lovely transformation? Don't you feel soft and nice now, Damon?” He picked him up and held him in front of a full-length mirror. “This is you, my friend. Once a man, now a sexy piece of clothing!”

That's really me?

“Sure is. Don't you feel this?” Carleton tugged on the sleeve.

Oh, wow! This is the weirdest thing ever! God, I need her to wear me! I want to cover every part of her in my soft...folds...

“Okay, enough of that,” Carleton pulled a hanger from the closet and stuffed it into the dress. Holding it from its hook, he pushed some clothes to the side, making room for the new garment.

“Here's your new, comfy home!” He hung Damon up. Then he returned the other clothing back to where it was so Damon was hardly visible.

The dress shook slightly. Hey, how's she going to find me?

“Well, you didn't say you wanted her to find you! You just said you wanted to be a dress in her closet!”

But...but...

“Come on, you know you feel great. Enjoy it! Bye!”

Wait, wait!

But Carleton popped out. He really didn't want to listen this moron any more than he had to.

Mr. Genie?

Oh, God, the idiot was calling him. Unfortunately, until the three wishes were complete, he was under this jerk's orders.

Carleton appeared before the closet, covering his mouth with his hand so he wouldn't burst out laughing. The blue dress was shaking so violently, all the other clothing was falling to the floor.

“So, you like being made of material, Mr. Stockbroker?”

Well, I mean, it feels nice, but... well, I have to be worn! It's what I'm for! Damon whined.

“Yes, but that's not what you asked for. You're a dress in her closet.” Carleton fished up a blazer and placed it back on a hanger. “Enjoy the bliss of being owned. Feel the slightest breeze tingle through your folds–”

Damon cut him off. But she totally has to wear me! I'm gorgeous! No one can refuse me!

Carleton picked up a blouse. “You're a dress, not a stockbroker.”

I'm Damon, and...and...

“And what? You're irresistable?” He threw the blouse to the floor. “You're a damned piece of fabric, and no one gives a crap about you!”

There was a commotion in the room, and Carleton flipped around to see a woman enter. Damon had been quite right. She was nearly perfect.

She'll see you!

“Come on, you seriously think I'd let her? I usually travel in the world with a cloaking spell on me. Only my...” He couldn't do it. He couldn't call this loser “master”. “Subject can see me.” Nonetheless, he stepped aside as the woman approached the closet.

Oh, you have to make her wear me! The dress shuddered.

“No, I don't. Not part of the deal.”

Oh, God! Dianna! Please wear me! I'm made for you! I exist to make you look amazing!

“What happened here? Was there an earthquake?” Dianna gazed at the mess, then quickly gathered up the clothing from the floor and tossed it onto the bed.

A bit let down, Carleton watched her flip through her clothing. He didn't care whether she wore Damon or not, although he hated him getting any pleasure in the least.

“Now where did this come from?” she pulled Damon out and stared at him.

YES! YES! Wear me!

She held the garment over herself, admiring her image in the mirror. “I don't remember getting you. Maybe Tracy put you in here... What the hell. I need something for the grand opening tomorrow.”

She threw the gown onto the bed and began to remove her clothes. The dress was shaking so much that Carleton chided, “Stop moving or I'll have to put an immobility spell over you.”

No, no. I want to be as alive as I can for this!

Dianna lifted him up, and Carleton rolled his eyes at the moans the garment was making. Luckily she couldn't hear them...

The gown fell over her head, and Carleton reasoned that Damon probably hadn't ever experienced such pure joy in his life...

“Oh, no, you're way too big!”

The dress awoke from its fog to exclaim, What?

Carleton laughed. “Guess she lost weight.”

“I can't wear you,” she removed the protesting garment.

No, wait! Genie, can't you make me smaller? Or, her bigger, or...

“Her bigger? Mr. Stockbroker, that's a terribly selfish thing to ask!”

Soon, Damon was back hanging in the closet, and Dianna was gone, having settled on a beaded red gown instead.

“Well, you're the saddest dress I've ever met, my friend,” Carleton cackled.

The dress shook once more. I guess she's never going to wear me again.

“Well, she had you on. You seemed to be loving it.”

Just for a second. Then she practically wrenched me off.

“Well, keep those amazingly pleasant few seconds alive in your memories.”

Yeah, I guess. The dress sighed, giving a small shake. I just wish I was home.

“Oh, YEAH!” This was like taking candy from a baby...

“What is happening to me? Help!”

Damon was being pulled towards the back of his bedroom. He couldn't escape the incredible force that drew him closer to the wall, no matter how much he struggled to get free.

Carleton folded his arms across his chest. “You wanted to be home. Isn't this apartment your home?”

“Yes, but...OW!” Damon grimaced as he smacked against the blue surface.

“Well, you said you wished you were home. So you're turning into home!” Carleton laughed, proud of himself. The most seasoned of genies couldn't have twisted an unintended wish like this any better.

“Turning into? Hey, wait! What is...” His body made a hissing sound as it began to be absorbed into the sheetrock. Damon panicked. “I didn't wish...and I don't want to be a building...”

“Being a building's fun. You feel so imposing!”

Most of Damon's body was gone. Only the tips of his feet, his hands, and his face remained, and they were all the same blue color as the wall they were joining. “But...But... I don't want to be a wall!”

“No, no, Mr. Stockbroker! You were right the first time! You're becoming your whole apartment! Once all of you is in there, your very being will spread all through your lovely little abode and you'll be all of it! You'll encompass every room – you'll be every room! And it's a wonderful experience, having people walk around in you! And when they use the utilities – oh, the water runs through your pipes, the electricity through your wires, the heat... My, it brings back such exciting memories!”

“Help!” Along with his feet and hands, Damon's features disappeared into the wall, and the surface flattened out to perfection.

Carleton chuckled. “I never get tired of a person's face getting swallowed away into whatever it is he's become.”

Oh, I really am all of this... it's so weird...

Carleton grinned at the slight tremor he felt through his shoes.

I don't want to be a house!

“You're not. Get it right, already! You're an apartment.” Carleton looked around the richly-furnished room. “And quite a comfy one at that.” He threw himself down on a couch and grabbed up a remote control. “It's too clean in here. You have live-in help or something?”

Kannie comes every two days. She does everything.

“Every two days? Does she cook?”

She makes all my meals and freezes them.

“Does she breathe for you, too? God, you sicken me, you know? Do you ever give any of your undeserved riches to charity or anything?”

My own charity.

“You have a charity?” Carleton cried, shocked. Had he judged this man incorrectly? He seemed to be irredeemable.

I mean, I don't give a dime to anyone. I keep my money for me. Never know when I'll need it in the future. How long do I stay like this?

No, he'd been right all along. The guy was a bona-fide, snobbish jerk. “Well, I'd like to live in you for a bit. You're extremely comfortable. I'll have to do my bottle up to be more like you.”

But I don't want to be an apartment forever. It feels weird when you walk on me...on my...floor, I mean...well, it's part of me...

“You don't want to be an apartment forever? Why, because you're doing such good for the world as a human?” Carleton flicked on the TV. “You're stuck this way until you make your last wish. And it better be a good one.”

Life was good living in Damon, but Carleton was getting tired of talking to the walls. “So, kid, you ready to get yourself out of the sheetrock?”

I'm not a kid. I'm an imposing, comfortable apartment.

This response worried Carleton a bit. Damon's mind had gotten so deep into his new form that he was content, and if he were too happy this way, he might not make his last wish. Carleton could not allow this. He needed to move on.

“You don't want to be a building forever,” he said gently. “Use your last wish to get something you really want. I'll give you twenty-four hours to think about it.”

Exactly a day later, Carleton knocked on the wall.

Oo, that felt nice. Thanks. Can you knock on me again?

“No. You're done with this. Now get ready for your last wish. I hope you'll make it a good one; meaningful, possibly a help to society, or a help in general...” Carleton was itching to make this a good one himself.

Without a second's hesitation, the apartment replied, I wish I could fly.

Carleton couldn't believe his good fortune. “GRANTED!” he cried jubilantly. He'd end this jerk on a high note and twist his wish like any good genie worth his weight in...well, whatever...

And he'd make this change a slow one.

First, Damon emerged from the wall, fully human. He stretched his arms in relief, then flapped then. “Hey, what's up?”

“Nope, can't fly yet,” Carleton smiled.

“What are we waiting for?”

“Your changes, of course!”

Damon began to turn colors. He apparently didn't realize this until Carleton smirked and nodded his head, going, “Yes, you'll be perfect.”

“I'll be perfect? My skin feels...soft.” He looked up in alarm. “No, no, no! What am I, turning into a bird?”

“You're becoming much more usable than that.”

“Usable? But I didn't want– Hey, what the hell is happening to me? I'm getting...flat!”

“Yes, you are. You'll be awesome!”

“Awesome?'”

Carleton grabbed Damon's flattening shoulder.

“Hey! Let go of me!” The transforming man tried to shake him off, but his arms and legs had merged and were flattening like the rest of him. He could now only hang helplessly from the genie's grip, as he softened and formed into a colorful rectangle.

“Ah, your craftsmanship is impeccable!” Carleton poked at Damon's midsection, sending him into giggles. He flapped back and forth, and Carleton struggled to hold him up.

Bright blue tassels sprouted from Damon's edges. “Stop thrashing!” The genie admonished. “You'll knot up your tassels!”

“Tassels? Wait! Please!”

And Carleton's favorite part began – Damon's facial features began to melt away...

“But...I just wanted to be able to fly!” Damon whimpered as his eyes, nose, and mouth became part of the fabric's ornate design.

“You can! Congratulations! You're a magic carpet! Mine!”

“Oh, crap! I'm done!”

The familiar pull of Carleton's bottle hit him, and he grabbed Damon by a tassel and yanked him inside with him. “You belong to me, my friend. Every good genie has a magic carpet. It's about time I get something I deserved!” He tossed the carpet to the floor and studied him. Admittedly, he had come out quite nicely. When not in use, the stockbroker would make a great addition to his rather drab décor.

“So I'm stuck like this forever?” the carpet asked dejectedly.

“Not necessarily,” was Carleton's flippant response. He grabbed a book to read and sat down on an armchair.

After a few moments, Damon asked, “Why would you turn a person into a magic carpet?”

“Well, how do you think magic carpets are so smart? I mean, their owner tells them where to go, and they do it. How do you think that happens?”

“They're magic?”

“No, Damon. They're people. Magic carpets are often people who were transformed, for one reason or another. Like you.”

“And you know this how?”

“First of all, hell, I'm a wizard. I know things.” Carleton smirked. “Second of all, it's part of what I used to do.”

“What did you do? Spells and crap?”

“Hardly. When I first started out, I was a...well, type of inspector. I traveled the world checking out magical objects, and, if they were actually transformed people, I had to make sure they weren't innocents transformed against their will. And, before you say it, you weren't transformed against your will. You had a wish fulfilled by a genie.”

Damon went past this. “What if the transformed people you found weren't innocent?”

“Well, that was a different story. I had to judge. Tough job, but someone has to do it.”

Silence. Carleton began to read.

“I feel weird like this.”

“You'll get used to it. You're not a person anymore; you're an object. My object.”

Carlton flipped a page.

“What will you use me for?”

Getting frustrated, Carleton realized perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. He was stuck for his whole sentence as a genie having an obnoxious ex-Wall Street carpet to talk to.

“To fly around with, of course. And to decorate my bottle. Why, you don't like your new form?”

“Well,” the carpet paused, “actually it's kind of nice. I feel...soft, and useful.” He floated up to the ceiling and back down. “And, true to your word, I can fly just like I wanted. Now I just need to get out of this damn bottle.”

“I'll pull you out when my next victim summons me.”

“Victim? That's what you call us?”

Carleton gave him a simpering glance. “Usually.”