The Genie of the Lamp

Now I know it sounds very corny, but when I saw the tarnished old Arabic oil-lamp in an antique shop, I just had to buy it in case it was Aladdin's. Don't worry, I told myself how silly I was being. I'm not really a superstitious man at all, quite a cynic of things spiritual on the whole, but perhaps it was my self-denied belief that such magic does exist which caused it to actually happen. I remember that I carefully avoided rubbing the lamp until I got home. By that time I had looked inside the thin brass oval vessel several times by lifting its poorly-fitted hinged lid and there was definitely no room for any physical genie - no false bottom or anything. The picture-books and movies had led me to expect a spiral whirl of purple smoke to emanate from the lamp, out of which a huge genie would appear but, when I did start polishing the lamp with a proper yellow duster, there was nothing to see before I was startled by a deep voice from behind me: "What is thy command, O master?".

I spun round to find a large, but not huge, perhaps six-foot-nine, classical genie standing in the room, solid and real, with classically folded muscular arms. He looked more like an Arab wrestler in pantomime costume, right down to the long, curled-up shoes, than any mythical being. He didn't look anything like as subservient as his first words and I felt more that a little intimidated by his supercilious stare.

"Do you have to be so big?" I asked and immediately he began shrinking, quite quickly, so that it took maybe two seconds for him to reach about five-foot-two, where he stopped and stared up at me, but with even more hostility. "And could you be female, please?" This time I got embarrassed watching his, now her, two-second transition. She was wearing the same sleeveless brocaded jacket but a pale blue silk bodice had appeared underneath where a bare hairy chest had been and the big baggy trousers had changed from dark green to pink. An almost transparent veil hung from a string across the bridge of her nose and her big dark eyes were still staring at me, now with a sultry petulance, over it. She didn't look any more manageable than the six- foot-nine wrestler, but she'd have to do.

"Right, Jeanie, lets have that table piled high with bundles of tenners." I had looked back to her as I finished the sentence and when I looked again at the table there was no two-second transition this time; it was already piled almost to the ceiling with fat wads of brand new ten-pound notes! I could see a bank logo on the wrappers and each said "^\5000" so there must have been several million there.

"Hang on a minute, do I have a limited number of wishes?# I asked.

"No, but I must go back in the lamp before next sunrise and you can never call me again" came the reply in a falsetto, middle-eastern accent.

"Good. Then vanish the cash and credit my bank account and savings with five-hundred thousand each." The money had vanished before I could look round to the table again.

"Can you transform me, too?" I had not finished the question when I saw everything in the room going up, as if I was going down in a lift, vertically, so it didn't feel like I was falling over. I knew I was not just shrinking, because I felt my legs and hindquarters move back and my hands take half my weight. When it stopped, I looked down to find my hands turned into furry paws and back along my marmalade-striped flank to my long fluffy tail, which I found I could wave around at will. I was surprised how calm I was about becoming a cat. I could not form any words in my thoughts, but I knew that I had not wished to be a cat and began to feel a little annoyed; it made me wave my tail some more. I looked up at the genie, towering above me in her big pink trousers and met her eyes with a cold stare. I began to feel hungry and that translated into a wish for a nice fat mouse.

Immediately, the genie began to shrink and her bright clothes to turn grey. Within a second or two, a little mouse was looking up at me, trembling in terror, trying to run away, but almost frozen to the spot. I seemed to know exactly what to do, pulling my hind legs in like a coiled spring and pouncing suddenly forward. I landed with both paws on the mouse's tail, wishing to just play with it, at first. It struggled and squealed in terror. Suddenly I was going up again in that lift, soaring up into the room, but then all the changes to my bone- structure, which were almost painless but not quite, suddenly stopped and I was my old human self again.

I looked down to see the mouse, still trapped by the tail under the sole of my shoe. As soon as I could form the words, I thought to myself "That was clever of me, for a cat, anyway. I seem to have got the better of this genie and her magic." I kept my foot firmly on the mouse's tail for a moment, while I thought out a plan of action.

"OK" I said at last, "You can turn back into the female genie." Within two seconds she had, now standing very close to me. She was wearing an exotic perfume and I found myself looking straight down the cleavage of her ample bosom, but I suspected that if I let her seduce me I would get into trouble again, so I resolved to stick to my plan.

"Now make me female, too" I ordered and it felt like an explosion in my chest as I suddenly developed breasts. I looked down to see myself dressed exactly as she was so, although I looked for the change between my legs, it was hidden by great folds of pink silk. I wanted to see myself in a mirror but did not want to leave this rather unpredictable genie alone. I pointed to a spot on the floor and was about to command a mirror to appear there when a swirl of mist appeared and rapidly materialised into an ornate free-standing full-length mirror. When it had lost all its ethereal transparency, I could see in the reflection a pair of identical female twins. I could move one of them from inside. My bare arms and midriff were light brown and I had a sultry Arabic face.

"No offence," I started and hesitated with surprise at the high pitch of my voice, "but couldn't I be European?" Both in the mirror and out of the corner of my eye I could see my hair turn blonde and my skin lighten, so I looked totally out of place in the Sheherezade costume.

"I'd like to be wearing a smart business suit, first, I think" I mused out loud (although even silent musings were instantly obeyed) as my big trousers dissolved into thin air, leaving a knee-length skirt and slender nylon-clad legs on high-heeled shoes. My white silk blouse was buttoned neatly to the neck under my grey pin-striped jacket whose sleeves just seemed to come into focus around my arms.

"And you can be my French maid" I told my former twin and she rapidly emerged in a skimpy black uniform, trimmed with white lace, the tops of her fish net stockings showing under her petticoats.

"Mais oui, madam" she crooned. If I had thought that we could get on platonically as "girls together", I was mistaken. I had found the genie's female version extremely attractive when I was a man and now I found this naughty French maid just as unnerving. I knew I must stay in control, now, and if I did, I could make wonderful things happen. I wanted to experience life as a woman while I had this opportunity and it was tempting to make the genie be a man again to satisfy me, but I knew I would lose control that way. I decided to leave her here, in my flat, while I went out as a woman. I had over twelve hours before sunrise.

"You sit down there" I commanded "and do not move. Make me a handbag big enough to take that lamp with me. If I rub the lamp, on the inside only, you will come to wherever I am, immediately." She nodded. I needed to find out if the magic which had transformed everything to be how I wished it, whether the wish was spoken or not, extended beyond the immediate presence of the genie. I wanted to go out, drive some distance away from the genie and find out what power I had there. I nearly lost my resolve to try being female and almost had her turn me back to my old self, but I made myself put my keys and wallet in my handbag and hurry outside. As I got into my car, with the unfamiliar feelings of wearing a skirt and fitting the seat belt between my breasts, I realised that another unfamiliar feeling was a full bladder. I thought of going back up to my flat but again I made myself go on out. I would find a public toilet; a Ladies' toilet, I thought, with a gulp. I kicked off my high heels for safety with the pedals and moved the seat forward because my nylon-clad legs were shorter now. My hair got in the way a bit as I looked round to reverse. It was cut neatly to shoulder-length to suit my businesswoman style.

I drove to an out-of-town superstore which had nice clean toilets, or at least I knew the Gents were, and it would still be open this evening. I felt terribly self-conscious walking through the crowded entrance, telling myself that I was an ordinary woman and no one would take any notice. They didn't, but I almost panicked as I opened the door into the Ladies, thinking that if I was hallucinating, everyone else would see my old male body, but no one inside, where there was a short queue for the stalls, reacted to my presence, so they must be seeing just what I was seeing in the mirrors. I did look quite ordinary, though more smartly dressed than the others. I had a couple of minutes wait, while I contemplated my reflection and missed the efficiency of urinals, before I could reach the privacy of a stall. Holding onto my pee felt exactly like it had as a man. I clenched all the muscles I could find as I stood waiting and was disappointed that nothing actually felt very different. When I finally got into a stall and shut the door behind me, I found that my skirt was quite narrow, but it lifted up over my waist, where it was useful to keep my jacket in, and I pulled down my knickers and tights. As my little fanny came into view, I had known what to expect, of course, but still felt a shock at the loss of my old genitals. My bush was dark brown, so I was not a true blonde; I was disappointed again. I sat down and let my pee flow. That did feel different. I noticed that wishing my bush was blonde had not changed its colour, so I was right that distance from the Genie switched off the magic. To make sure, I hissed "Turn green" under my breath at my handbag, but it remained stubbornly black. I had planned to summon the genie at this point, but there was a queue outside and I couldn't trust her to keep quiet in there.

Then I had another panic attack. Suppose my car broke down or, for some other reason, I couldn't get back to my flat. I had a little cash in my wallet, but I could hardly use the credit-card which was still in my male name. Then I remembered that there was a cashpoint at this superstore. I wiped myself, a new chore, pulled up my tights, smoothed down my skirt and stepped out into the public gaze again. There was another queue for the basins because everyone was touching up their makeup. I felt around in my handbag under the big lamp, being very careful not to let anyone see it, and found a lipstick. It surprised me how erotic I found it to move my lips around the phallic red stick. I realised that I was entirely female in my mind and sexuality too. I found the cashpoint, inserted my card and asked for a balance. The numbers nearly ran off the screen. How thoughtful of Jeanie, I thought, to magic a credit into yesterday, so that I could spend it today! How on earth did a medieval Arab know how to do that?

I drew the maximum cash I could per day and tucked it quickly into my handbag, feeling really vulnerable for the first time. Back in my car, I got out the lamp and waited until there was no one near before opening it and rubbing my fingers on the inside. Nothing happened so, getting a little nervous, I got the windscreen-cleaning chamois out of the glove-box and tried that. The lamp and my hands were pushed gently off the passenger seat by an invisible force which materialised as my little French maid.

"Oui, Madame?" she crooned.

"I'd rather be wearing jeans and T-shirt" I said, feeling them materialise around me, "and have longer hair." My scalp tingled as it grew rapidly over my shoulders. I looked down at my lap, where my flies zip curved smoothly downward, over my breasts, which thrust out the front of my pale-blue T-shirt. No longer concealed by the open wings of my jacket, they were now really conspicuous and I had not expected that.

"Stay there. I'm just going to do a little shopping" I said and started out back to the store, bouncing on my little trainers, another nice touch I hadn't asked for, my lovely long locks blowing in the breeze. I suddenly realised that the big black handbag didn't suit my new image, so wished it was a denim shoulder-bag. Nothing happened, so I turned back. I tried commanding the bag to change out loud when I was right next to the car but that didn't work either, so I got back inside with Jeanie.

"Make this a denim shoulder-bag" I told her and before I could look back to it, it had changed. I had also realised that I felt no less conspicuously female in jeans, so I said "I might as well wear a denim mini" and my jeans dissolved into thin air, leaving a tight hem across my bare thighs.

"No, a mini-dress, over this T-shirt" it changed as I spoke "with a cheeky short haircut." This time, my scalp didn't tingle, my head just suddenly felt much lighter and when I put up my hand, I felt a shorter cut than I'd had for a long time as a man. The denim dress had a vest- like top and big buttons down the front, so the skirt was now slit at the front. I wondered how women could want to feel so exposed, but it was exciting, in a way.

"You stay there again. Oh, and wear a plain long dress, I don't want passing men to get excited." The black and white uniform dissolved into a flowing cream gown. It was not what I'd really call plain, especially with the sultry dark Jeanie overfilling it, but I refrained from criticism and set off back into the supermarket, heading for the clothes section. This time I attracted more stares as I reached the crowded entrance, but this time it pleased me. I yearned for some privacy, though, and remembered that there were no changing rooms here. I found some cotton dresses which I liked and tried hanging one in front of me at the mirror. I suddenly realised that buying clothes was pointless, if Jeanie could just conjure-up any number of them. After all, I would be a millionairess tomorrow, too, when she had gone back in the lamp. I corrected that to millionaire, feeling more than a little scared that I had presumed that I would remain female. I turned back towards my car and noticed the in-store hairdressing salon. It had always turned me on to see girls with long hair having it cut short and I felt disappointed that mine had just vanished by magic. Now I could indulge my fantasy, even several times this evening, if I got the Genie to make it long again.

When I got back in the car, I checked that there was no one nearby, then ordered the cream-gowned Genie: "Make my hair long again, down to my waist," (my scalp became quite sore as blonde locks cascaded quickly over my shoulders) "dark brown and very straight" (it changed before I could get the words out) "and fix it so that I have an appointment over there, now, in the name of, er, Vanessa Jeffreys. I want to wear a glossy blue satin blouse and a knee-length leather skirt" I said and began to just think the details, accessories appearing and changing at my whim. I pulled the driving mirror round and was amazed how I could just think-on my make-up. It was very weird to be able to re-model my own face as I watched. I was a little worried that I might make some silly choices, but realised that I was basing my ideals on my memories of women. It was both wonderful and frightening to have this power. It was also rather disappointing to reach the limits of my immediate imagination and I missed the excitement of being "stuck" in a particular persona, so I got quickly out of the car.

As quite a different woman, I re-entered the store and then the salon. I was ready to introduce myself in my new name when an effeminate man in a bright floral shirt strode over to me with obvious recognition. That the Genie had fixed more than a telephone booking had me gaping in disbelief, since I had only just created myself from scratch, I thought.

"Ah, Vanessa! Whatever's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, nothing. I'm just a bit nervous at the thought of cutting it all off."

"Well, are you quite sure? There's still time to change your mind, if you're not ready."

I took a deep breath and said "No, I'm quite ready. I want it bobbed neatly just under my ears and a thick fringe down to my eyebrows." He led me off to a chair and wrapped me in a gown.

"I'll cut it first, then shampoo and then trim it," he explained, picking up the big scissors.

Now I was well aware that it had not really taken me ten years to grow that decade of hair down my back and that the Genie could put it back for me in a moment, but the momentous feeling of change as the scissors began to scrunch into my own, very real, long hair, made me gulp and I'm sure I turned quite pale. This time the transformation was much slower, as the weight fell from my head, and it had a sharp reality to it, now that I had no magical powers, away from the Genie. It was both frightening and exciting to have no direct control over what was happening to me. While I had been surprised to have to deal with a male hairdresser, one who already knew me somehow, I felt safe in his hands. At first I thought this was because he was so effeminate, but as he began to chat me up with charm and undisguised admiration, I found myself enjoying his attentions. At the same time, I was getting as excited by my own transformation as I would have been as a man, so I felt a warm glow in my crutch and became aware of my nipples pushing out against my bra. I blushed, especially as I could see myself blushing in the mirror, with embarrassment. I found myself losing track of our conversation. I was so distracted by those intense feminine emotions that I was worried that he would spot my discomfort and take advantage of it. I pulled myself together and forced myself to concentrate on what he was doing and saying. I found him trying to get my attention to tell me to get up and go over to the washbasins. As I leant forward to get out of the chair, the new ends of the sides of my hair swung forward into view. They were only a little shorter than they had been when I was first transformed into a smart businesswoman, so I told myself that I should be used to it already, but it didn't work. I sat down in one of the low chairs and threw my head back into a basin, feeling my shorter hair swinging over to follow.

"I bet it feels a lot different, now?" asked my hairdresser, "Yes, it's great!" I replied.

As he worked up a good lather under the hand-shower he was leaning right over me, smiling and chatting. I had great difficulty avoiding his eyes, I was so horny. When he had rinsed it thoroughly with conditioner, he wrapped it in a towel, like a turban, and led me back to the cutting chair. I could not help enjoying the way he was looking after me and I felt that this was so right for me as a woman. He pulled off the towel and brushed my hair straight down, all around from the crown of my head, even over my face. It reached down only as far as my mouth and he began to cut my fringe across by my eyebrows. I shut my eyes instinctively as the scissors worked across and, when I opened them, he had finished and was removing the gown from around my neck.

I gazed at my new image in the mirror, awestruck. I had almost forgotten that I was wearing the deep blue, glossy blouse and, now that my dark hair was well clear of the collar, I thought it looked really good. My eyes glinted from under the deep fringe. I got up, smoothing down the leather skirt, and went over to the desk to pay. I had to prise only two banknotes out of the huge wad in my handbag, without letting anyone see it. and, as I bowed my head, I could see the new ends of my hair swing forward past my cheeks again. I managed to meet my hairdresser's eyes at last, with a smile, as I thanked him, safe in the knowledge that I could leave now, but he tried to prolong the conversation and I had to drag myself away.

When I got back into my car, the Genie spoke to me for the first time without being spoken to: "Alors, madame, tres chic! Veery nice. Would you like to do that again, now?"

My scalp began to hurt as hair poured over my shoulders. "No!" I retorted and, to my relief, the new hair just vanished again, "I've got other ideas. Tell me, can you take us back in time a few hours or days?"

"Oh no, that is beyond my powers, madame, because I must be back in the lamp by dawn."

"OK, so do I have to drive home or can you take us back instantly, and the car?"

"Pleeze to close your eyes, madame". I did so and immediately felt the car-seat change beneath me, nothing more, but when I opened my eyes, I found that it had become the sofa in my flat, with the Genie still sat beside me. I stood up, amazed at the stark reality of such impossibilities. The Genie was still the off-duty French maid in a lovely long cream gown and I was still Vanessa in her blue blouse and black leather skirt. I wanted to be wearing a long dress too and my clothes melted into a pale blue satin gown. I wondered where my car was parked outside, since there was always a shortage of spaces, so I strode gracefully over to the window. Under the streetlights, I could see that my car was back in the space I had left, but balanced on top of another car which had taken that space!

"Very funny", I told the grinning Genie, "now put it in that empty space, further down the street."

I turned back to see it had moved, leaving obvious dents in the roof of my neighbour's car. "And get rid of those dents!" They vanished. I was a bit worried about the Genie's autonomy. She definitely had a mind of her own, but did it go beyond embellishing my commands a little? I looked at her and decided she was far to pretty and elegant. Just by thinking that, I found I could remould her face into several ugly deformities and turn her gown into rags. I began to feel a little sorry for her and settled on a face similar to a neighbour who was an old widow with a floral cotton dress to match. I sat down again and began my plan for the rest of the night.

"Now I want to enact another pet fantasy of mine", I told her, "but wait, don't start anything until I close my eyes. I want to be a fifteen year-old girl at boarding school, you know the story?" The old woman nodded; it was very disconcerting how she could read my mind. "I want you to bring me back here after a minimum of one hour and a maximum of three hours, when I close my eyes again, for over a minute. Have you got that?"

"Yes, my dear", replied the old lady, "just give me a few seconds to create St Austell's School out of a derelict farm on Exmoor, because it doesn't exist yet." She screwed up her eyes with the effort, then said "OK, it's ready. Off you go when you like."

I was very dubious about trusting her to stay here and do nothing, so I turned her into a pot-plant. I found I could still change things by wishing so I made her hover over to the coffee-table where she looked less out of place. Then I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Immediately I felt a stiff collar form around my neck and my scalp hurt as my hair grew again, but this time it was already pulled back into a tight bun. I opened my eyes to find myself in a more dimly-lit room, a small dormitory of five beds, one of which I was sat on, in my grey pleated skirt, bright white blouse and school tie. There was no one in the room, but the sound of excited girlish chatter was drifting in through the open door from other dormitories. I was terrified. I put my hands, poking out of stiff white cuffs, on my knees, which were bare. This meant I was not a sixth-former, entitled to wear nylon stockings, as in my fantasy. Why had I said "fifteen" ? If I got stuck in this scenario, it would be two years before I could drive a car again and three before I could shed this awful uniform for good. Why had I set an hour minimum?

I shut my eyes for a few seconds, but of course I was still at boarding school when I opened them again, because I was committed to the first hour. I stood up and looked for a mirror. I seemed to know there was one on the inside of my locker door. I thought I looked a bit plain now, especially with my hair drawn back so severely from my high forehead. With my collar and tie, I looked a bit boyish with my hair back, but I could see my bra-straps through the shoulders of my blouse. Suddenly three girls came into the dorm and switched on a brighter light. I seemed to know that the first was my friend Crystal, with her bobbed hair parted in the middle over her bare forehead. The second was smaller, maybe twelve years old, who looked oddly familiar, but I had no time to look at her before the third, a tall sixth-former with short-cropped hair was reaching out to adjust my tie, the traditional St Austell's greeting, as Crystal introduced her: "This is Yvonne, who's going to cut your hair."

I felt a little less odd in my uniform, now I was among others, all dressed exactly the same. It was after 8pm, but I knew that the strict uniform was worn all the time, except when playing sports or going to bed. No hair was allowed over the collar, so unless you succumbed by having it cut short, you had to always wear it tied up in a tight bun like mine. I had already noticed that I had put out two spare sheets on the foot of my bed and now Crystal was spreading one on the floor and putting a chair on the middle of it. Meanwhile, the smaller girl came up to me and I suddenly realised that it was my sister Kate, who in reality is three years older than me. Here she was, aged twelve, and I knew somehow that I was now her older sister!

"Hello, Janet. I'm sorry but I just had to come and watch," she said.

This was awfully embarrassing. It was also frightening when the Genie played tricks on me like this. What would he dream up next? I took some pleasure in taking hold of Katie's tie, actually pulling it tighter and jerking it to the exact centre of her stiff little collar. In reality, my sister had always had very long hair as far back as I could remember, yet here she was with a short layered cut. Yvonne was beckoning me to the chair, so I went and sat in it. Crystal wrapped the other sheet around me, tucking the edge into my collar, then Yvonne pulled the elastic off my bun and I shook my hair out over my shoulders for the last time. It was less than an hour since I'd had long hair cut shorter already that evening, but this was entirely different, in the excited atmosphere of a schoolgirls' dormitory. I had a feeling that I had specified a style earlier but was unsure if I was getting a crew- cut like Yvonne's or as long as possible like Crystal's. I decided to keep quiet and see what happened, since either would be fine with me. When she started cutting a straight edge well below my ear, I knew which it was to be, but still, to my surprise, felt the same deep shock at the loss of so much hair as I had as Vanessa.

Far too soon, the scissors had worked around to the other ear and my head felt gloriously lighter, but my neck was now permanently naked. When hair was pulled forward over my face, I knew that I was getting a fringe, unlike Crystal, but Yvonne cut it much shorter and thinner than Vanessa's. She was not as thorough as that professional hairdresser had been in trimming the last bits, so very soon I was unwrapped and making for the mirror again. Young Katie was beside herself with enthusiasm for my new look. I thought it was an improvement, but I still looked every bit fifteen, if not younger, now. It felt very strange, almost naughty, to wear my hear loose while in this tight uniform. I checked that I had to tilt my head right over to my shrugged shoulder before it would reach over my collar. Crystal was gathering up the sheets; I stopped her a moment to grab a bundle of my old hair and wrap it in my bun-elastic. I put it under my pillow, so that I could take it back to my flat in my hand. Then I followed her out onto the balcony and helped her shake out the sheets, revelling in the way my shorter hair blew in the wind, just like hers.

"We've still got time for that game of snooker," she said.

This was odd. In my fantasies it was always table-tennis I played on the first evening in boarding school, but this wasn't my first evening, either. The vague memories I had been given on coming here told me that this was my second year as a boarder, though Kate's first. We left my sister to go back to her own dorm, she wasn't allowed in our common- room anyway, and made for the snooker-room. On the way we passed several girls who knew me. They each did a double-take when they saw me, but complimented the change. In the kitchen there was a visiting boy who greeted me by name and I wished I knew how well I knew him and so whether to grab his tie or let him do mine. It was no good wishing; I had only the few memories I had been allowed, so I moved on quickly in embarrassment.

While playing snooker, the new loose sides of my hair and my tie kept swinging into view as I leant over the table. I wanted to be less self- conscious and enjoy the game but I found it impossible to ignore the feelings of the stiff collar tight around my soft girlish neck, the bra holding my pubescent breasts and the hem of my uniform skirt playing around my bare knees. I lost the first frame by miles and the second one more narrowly, despite a real effort to muster the skills I had enjoyed as a man. Crystal was pretty good at it, really. As she'd won the best of three and it was almost 9.30pm when we had to go to bed, we packed up the balls and cues and went back to our different dorms. I found all the other occupants of mine were there. Little Jane and Helen, the juniors, were already in their beds, sat up reading. Beth was still in uniform but had all her stuff ready to go in the bathroom, while Margo, our Room Senior, elegant in her stockings, had just popped up to check on us. They all gasped and exclaimed at my new hair style. I now had hair very similar to Helen, Jane had a short, layered cut, while Beth and Margo both had long hair in buns. In my fantasy, I had been room senior, but now I was the same age as Beth and I felt I had let her down a bit in leaving the bun-set and committing myself more to St Austell's way of life by cutting off my hair. She was the only one not to compliment me, disappearing into the bathroom without a word. Margo looked as if she felt the same way, making a vague compliment before going back to her senior common room. Helen was full of chatter as usual; I very soon found it boring and was relieved when Beth came out of the bathroom, her lovely long blonde locks flowing over her shoulders. I grabbed my towel, wash bag and nightie and thankfully locked myself in the bathroom. It was so good to be alone at last.

Studying the unfamiliar refection of a young schoolgirl in the mirror, I pulled off my tie and found myself, by habit, undoing first my cuffs and then my shirt buttons from the bottom up. It was a serious offence at St Austell's to have an open neck so, as soon as I undid the top button, I pulled the blouse off my shoulders. As I reached around my back to unhook my bra, I realised that I had not been naked before as a woman, or at least not in the crisp, stark reality that resulted from the Genie's magic. I wished I had had the chance to undress as a mature woman, but as my firm young breasts bounced free, I was not so sure. I found the lovely image in the mirror scarcely believable, so I cupped them in my hands and looked down. To my surprise, I was more aware of how my hands felt on my sensitive breasts than how by breasts felt in my hands. It was amazingly different from anything I had ever felt before and yet, with my freshly cut-off hair swinging into view by my cheeks, it all seemed so normal. My nipples looked so big! They were growing with my excitement as I watched and I felt the same warm glow between my legs that I had felt much earlier in the hairdresser's. I was certainly going to enjoy taking a shower now!

Quickly, almost desperately, I forced off my shoes without undoing the laces, unzipped my skirt and pulled it down with my panties and socks, all in one movement. The mirror was too small to see my whole figure, but it looked and felt pretty good as I ran my hands over my smooth curves, so I strode proudly into the shower and turned on the water. I could not believe how sensitive and erogenous my breasts felt under the sprinkling warm water, but I made myself concentrate on getting shampoo into my hair. There was a lot more of it than I had had yesterday but a lot less hair than I had had earlier this evening, especially as Vanessa, when I had not had to wash it myself. I knew I should be really pleased, as Janet, to find my shorter hair much easier to wash and I tried to get into the spirit of it. It was not long before I was following the streams of excess lather down my body with my hands. What I discovered between my legs was delightful. From the outside, my little bush and firm outer lips felt quite familiar, but from the inside the feelings were simply amazing. As I ran my middle finger upwards and inwards to find my panic-button, I caught myself starting to moan. I glanced quickly to the door to ensure that I had locked it. This reminder that I was a boarding schoolgirl turned me off at first, but then I got excited again at the naughtiness of my masturbation. I could hear muffled voices outside, but they would not hear me unless I moaned really loud. I wished I had more time and privacy to explore my sex further, especially as an older woman. Perhaps the genie could fix something up for me later in the night, so I finished off my shower unsure whether I had really experienced a female orgasm or not.

When I had dried myself, I had to put on the regulation blue nightie and, of course, button it up to my neck immediately. I caught sight of myself in the mirror with my damp hair clinging to my head, but looking very girlie in my big round collar and short, puffed sleeves. I re- entered the dorm, hoping I had not taken too long and remembering, somehow, that I usually showered in the morning, but this was special, after my haircut. Margo was sat on her bed, but seemed in no hurry to use the bathroom, still fully dressed in her uniform with no washing things ready. Jane and, thankfully, Helen had apparently gone to sleep, while Beth barely glanced up from her book. By the time I had folded my skirt onto a shelf of my locker, put my blouse, panties and socks in the laundry-box and put my shoes away too, Beth had turned over away from me to sleep, too. I climbed into bed, feeling quite upset that no- one wanted to talk to me. I had certainly moved into a different circle by cutting my hair. As I wriggled my lithe young body down under the blankets, I had to hold down the hem of my nightie by trapping it between my toes. I reached under my pillow and got out the lock of my old hair. Although in reality I had not worn it for more than twenty minutes, I felt a strange attraction to it and still a sense of loss that it was detached from my head. I glanced over at Margo to see it she had noticed what I was doing, but she was busy now getting ready to go in the bathroom. She had already removed her tie and loosed her bun, so her great auburn locks were flowing over her white-clad shoulders. As she bent down to release her stockings from under her skirt, her hair fell forward and made a dramatic silhouette against the dim bedside light as she tossed it out of her way. It would take me several years to regain that beauty, I thought sadly, but then remembered that I was only here temporarily.

In fact I was a little startled to realise that I could forget so easily that I had only become Janet the boarder earlier this evening. I knew that the next thing I planned to do was to close my eyes with the hair in my hand to return to my flat, but I decided to lie there for a while and think about what was happening to me. Also, I was nervous about disappearing before all the other girls were asleep, but then I remembered that the Genie had said that it was all specially created out of a derelict farm, so they would disappear too. What about my sister? It would be interesting to find out if she had been dreaming about boarding-school tonight. I was finding it delightfully scary that I actually enjoyed being Janet, as I wriggled my smooth young body around under the bedclothes in my nightie. I would rather have been a senior, like Margo, but then I felt more trapped, vulnerable and homesick as I was and was now strangely glad that I had asked to be fifteen. I ran my fingers through my still damp hair, down to where it now ended abruptly above my collar. I looked over at the other three heads on pillows and listened to the water noises from Margo in the bathroom. It was a pity we all had to go to bed so early in this one magic night. I had really enjoyed playing snooker with Crystal. I had loved my shower!

Suddenly I found my eyes shut and I felt the bed suddenly change to a settee, so my three-hour maximum must be up. The bedclothes had vanished, but were replaced by lots of cold small things. I opened my eyes into a dense mass of foliage. It took me several seconds to realise that the Genie, who I had turned into a pot-plant, had done the only thing he could as a plant, grow! I could hardly see for a foot in front of my face but, as soon as I wished that the plant was small again, the branches and leaves just faded into the air. I laughed out loud at the genie's audacity, startled by my own girlish voice in my flat. I sat up, feeling embarrassed to be in this flat as a teenage girl, dressed only in a nightie. I wished myself male, felt it happen, then dressed myself by magic in some of my familiar old clothes, but it seemed ages since I'd been myself and I didn't seem able to get it quite right. Lots of items in the room had been dislodged or even broken by the plant, so I turned it into a cactus as a punishment while I just looked around, repairing and replacing objects. I even upgraded my hi-fi and my computer in the process. When I looked back at the cactus, it had grown a colourful flower and then a small branch of a quite different plant with tiny leaves. From Mediterranean holidays, I recognised this as olive.

"OK, we're even" I said out loud to the original large Arab I had wished to appear, seated in the armchair opposite, "Now turn me back to how I was when you first saw me."

I felt my shape and clothes change a bit, so I had got it wrong on my own. It was frustrating to have such awesome power, yet no inspiration on how to use it. It had only just gone midnight and I had until dawn to make use of the Genie. What did I want most in the world? Now that I could have it, my mind was in such a spin that I could not, for the life of me, remember what it was I would have chosen before all tonight's adventures had befallen me. I had started with money.

"Does anything we make now, like all that money, remain after you've gone back in the lamp?" I asked.

"Oh yees, master, you can tell me to make as many permanent changes as you please."

"OK, then put another half-million in each of another three savings accounts..." and suddenly remembering the tax-man, "...and make it so that I won the lottery." I noticed the Genie's face screw up a little as I asked for such a big and retrospective change, but he soon nodded to indicate that it was done. Then I thought of an ex-girlfriend and a little revenge I would like to extract for her having dumped me. At first I thought I would visit her tomorrow as a millionaire, but then I thought of what I could do to her with the Genie's power. I wished her to be in the room and Carie quickly emerged out of a mist, standing sleepily in her pyjamas as if sleepwalking.

"This is a dream which you will not remember" I told her and began changing her with my wishes. She looked down in astonishment as her legs emerged in tights under a very short mini-skirt and she put her hands up to her head as I grew, shortened and re-styled her hair. Then she noticed that her nails were long and painted and her feet on four- inch heels. Carie almost always wore jeans and had never dressed up sexily like this before. I put her in a green velvet scoop-necked top and grew her breasts a bit to fill it out. I looked over to the Genie and expressed a silent wish that I should become Carrie's most attractive male. I felt my shape changing quickly, a stiff collar forming around my neck, as it had on arrival in St Austell's, so that I was wearing a suit and tie. I decided I did not want to know who it was that I now resembled, my pride would not allow it.

To my surprise, I had put on quite a bit of weight, so I was now probably some TV host or politician. I looked up to find Carrie even more astonished to find herself in the presence of her idol. I wished her to have an insatiable desire to give me head and I was gratified to see a deep blush spread across her well made-up face. She stepped forward, hesitantly at first on the unaccustomed high heels, then she put a hand on my knee and knelt down in front of me.

"May I?" she whispered as she gently unzipped my flies. I felt embarrassed by the presence of the Genie so, almost apologetically, I turned him back into a plant, this time a nice big palm, in deference to his nationality. My cock sprang to attention as soon as Carrie's deft fingers released it. She began by planting little kisses all over it, leaving marks from the thick lipstick she would never normally have worn, so that, by the time she was ready to stretch her brightly- painted lips over the helmet, I was panting with excitement. She looked up into my eyes from under her new fringe as she took more of me into her mouth. I had intended to humiliate her by turning back into the man she had recently rejected, but she was now so different from the Carrie I had known, in the biblical sense, that I could not help but enjoy the status quo. At the same time as feeling the ecstatic pleasure of her agile tongue on my helmet, however, I was feeling terribly guilty at deceiving her into this act. As I smiled back at her, my face felt quite different, so I was reassured that I was completely transformed into her idol, whoever he was, and I felt easier about doing this, which enabled me to orgasm quite quickly. It wasn't a very good one. After all, I was some middle-aged fat man in a suit. I felt a bit sorry for Carrie now. As soon as she had gulped down my semen with an embarrassed grin, I changed her back into her pyjamas and put her hair back into its old shaggy, layered style. I left her breasts big, though, because I had always thought her a bit flat-chested and chuckled to myself to think that none of her bras would fit in the morning. Then I wished her back in her bed at home and she faded away into thin air.

Now I don't remember at all what happened next. I don't remember if I took any part in changing the Genie back from a potted palm or myself back from some suited TV host. The next thing I remember is being shaken awake by the shoulder. Before I opened my eyes, a number of quite alarming thoughts rushed through my mind. First, I thought I had slept through the rest of my limited time of magic with the genie and missed opportunities, but then who could be in my flat waking me up? Next I realised that I was under bedclothes and that I was female again because my arm had been crushing one of my tits. Then I felt the buttoned-up collar of my nightie and knew that I was back in St Austell's. Surely I had not wished for that? How long was I here for this time? Was it permanent, now? That genie certainly had a wicked sense of humour. Had he gone back in the lamp leaving me as Janet for the rest of my life?

I opened my eyes in horror to confirm that it was Crystal shaking my shoulder, looking somehow oddly different from how I had seen her earlier, but I put that down to her being dressed now in a school nightie. She was holding her finger to her lips, then she held up three fingers and pointed downwards. Somehow I "remembered" that this meant I had to get dressed quickly for a nocturnal adventure, meeting downstairs in the hall in three minutes. In the dim light, I could see my alarm clock reading 2:27am so I was relieved to find that I was still under the genie's spell and there should be more magic to come. As Crystal tip-toed out of the dorm, I looked around to find myself now in the room-senior's bed. I seemed to "remember" that it was two years since my dramatic haircut, although I knew that it had really been earlier in the same night. I had thought the genie said that he was incapable of time-warps, but then the whole of St Austell's was fictitious, so now I was seventeen. I swept some hair back from my cheek and found it was a bit shorter than before, only just below my ears. I wanted to look in the mirror, but remembered that I had to get dressed quickly, so I grabbed my panties and bra from the shelf of my locker. My bra seemed to come apart into two pieces; one was a suspender-belt! I looked back into the locker and there, clearly visible on top of my white blouse, were my stockings! I examined the fastening of the belt, two little hooks and eyes, then I stood up, hitched my long nightdress up and fixed it around my slim waist with the hooks at the back. Although I had never actually got dressed as a woman before, it seemed to be strangely habitual, but nonetheless exciting for its novelty. I sat down again and took each stocking, rolled it up with my nimble slim fingers, pointed my shapely toes into the end and unrolled and stretched the fine nylon up to my smoothly shaven thighs. I had to work out how the keyhole-shaped clips worked as I did them up in the dark and realised that I was habitually doing the right thing to put my panties on afterwards, over the straps. I glimpsed my pubic bush just before I pulled on my panties and yes, it had matured since I last saw it.

Next, I modestly turned my back to the rest of the dorm before pulling my nightie off over my head. I passed my bra around my back and fastened it up in front of my tummy before shifting the join round to the back. I found myself doing this quickly by habit, although I had watched girlfriends do it and might have remembered how to from them. I threaded each arm through its shoulder-strap and squeezed my sensitive breasts into their cups. I revelled in the experience of having my wobbly tits held comfortably still, but remembered the need for haste. Also, it was really quite cold, so I grabbed my uniform shirt and once again found myself quickly fastening the top button first. The buttons seemed awkward at first, opening to the left, but if I let my new "habits" take over, that was not a problem. I stepped into the plain grey skirt and did up the zip on my left hip. Still shivering in the cold, I rooted out my uniform jumper from the locker and dived into the v-necked pullover. It occurred to me that I would normally have put my tie on first, but I would just have to thread it down now. Next I stepped into the awful brown shoes and did up their laces, very aware of my stiff white cuffs just showing out of my blue pullover sleeves. It was strange to be wearing stiff leather shoes over thin nylon stockings. Then I flipped up my collar, put on my tie around my neck, made the knot, flipped down the stiff collar, tucked the tie ends down inside my pullover and made final adjustments to my clothing though I could only see myself dimly in the mirror.

I tip-toed out of the dorm and down the big staircase to find the other three adventurers waiting for me, dressed identically to me. There was Crystal, with her now familiar centre-parting, Margo, with her tight bun and the third girl, with a shaggy layered haircut, almost made me bolt back to my bed. It was Carrie! I had to take a deep breath and tell myself that she could only possibly see me as Janet the schoolgirl and could have no idea of my real identity or the connection with her earlier dream. I deliberately reached for her tie first in the traditional St Austell's greeting. I had to admit she looked better aged seventeen than when I had last seen her. I was amused to note that she still had the larger bust size I had given her. That genie sure had a wicked sense of humour. We spoke very little to each other in low whispers before quietly opening the big front door, leaving it on the latch and slipping out. It sort of came back to me as we went what this was all about. The boys' house Oak had recently mounted a raid on our house, Sycamore, soaking all our drying laundry with buckets of water. This was a retaliatory raid to do the same thing to them. I had been chosen, by picking cards, to use my boyfriend Simon to get their door open. I had nervously arranged to visit him at 2:30am for sex in the Oak sick-room.

The mixed feelings of excitement, lust and revulsion at the betrayal I was leading him into almost consumed me as we four schoolgirls crept across the school grounds in the moonlight. However, I was just enough aware to notice that we were crossing what seemed more like a muddy farmyard than a school campus. It was odd, I thought, that the Genie had not completed this illusion. I had often seen incongruous bits of scenery like this in dreams, but everything here was very detailed and real, not at all dream-like. Perhaps St Austell's was partly a farm, I thought, but then I had invented it myself a long time ago and there was no reason other than the Genie's stated action of converting a deserted farm for it to be like this. In a way, I was glad to have found limits to his powers of magic and detail of vision, but it still left me unable to change the fact that I was not only a boarding schoolgirl in uniform, but also on a naughty nocturnal prank which involved me expecting sex with a boy.

Far too soon, it was time for me to creep alone up to Oak House front door and knock softly. My heart leapt as I saw a figure approaching through the frosted glass. Simon must have been sat on the bottom step of their stairs waiting for me. As the door opened, I wondered if the Genie was about to play another of his wicked tricks and this boy would turn out to be someone I knew in my normal existence, but I was glad to see that his face was not familiar, though he was smiling familiarly at me. I returned his smile and stepped quickly inside, right up to him to adjust his tie, so that he had to back away and I could take over the job of shutting the door. I tried to hide the fact that I was applying the snib, but my hands were so small now that I could not cover up the lock as I did it and I wondered if he had seen me leave it unlocked. To distract him, I turned back to him and took hold of his tie again, this time more gently. He took hold of mine too and our faces approached for a kiss. I had dreaded this moment while walking over from Sycamore, but now I was close to him I felt quite attracted to him. We were wearing exactly the same ties, shirts and pullovers, but I was acutely aware of my femininity due to the lumps in my jumper and the cool draught up my skirt to the bare flesh above my stocking-tops. On the way here I had wondered if I could stomach kissing a man, but now Simon was not "another man" because I was Janet, wholly and completely.

As our lips met, I was amazed at the overwhelming feelings of pleasure throughout my body. I was feeling very warm between my legs again, but the pleasure was not all centred there as it had been when I was a man. My nipples seemed to be aching to burst out of my bra, but the pleasure was not centred there either. My soft lips were exploring Simon's harder, firmer mouth and, although I felt almost delirious, I was acutely and alertly aware of every nerve in my sensuous body. We let go of each other's tie-knots and reached around the back of each other's necks. As I felt the grizzly stubble above his stiff collar, I had one of those fleeting Janet memories that this ought to excite me because he had only recently had his shoulder-length hair cropped into a severe short-back-and-sides. He had persuaded his parents to send him to St Austell's so that we could spend more time together. Our friendship and dating went back to my time at our local day-school and we had been limited to the odd weekend since I had come here. His shirts then had always been soft or rough and now I could feel his tight, stiff white collar, which he was wearing to be close to me. What greater sacrifice could a girl expect?

As soon as our lips parted again I whispered "Well, where's the sick- bay, then?" He silently took my hand and led me up the great staircase. I was almost in a dream, but I remembered my duty to my poor cold friends outside. I moved to one side and, as we passed the light- switches, quickly reached out and changed one of them.

The light above us went out and Simon quickly put it back on, saying "No, they stay on, or they'll know something's wrong." I nodded, knowing that my signal had been made and feeling guilty at the betrayal involved. I hoped he would not remember these little things tomorrow and put two and two together. But then, why should I care? The Genie would make all of this vanish tomorrow. On the second floor he opened a door and we entered a dark room with four beds, smelling strongly of disinfectant.

As he shut and bolted the door behind us, he whispered "We can't put the light on and we'll have to be quiet because there's a dorm on that side. There's nothing underneath though," he added, grinning and sitting down hard on the nearest bed. I pulled my tie out of my jumper and began to loosen the knot to get undressed but, to my surprise, he leapt to his feet and stopped me, firmly tightening it again and tucking it back down the front of my pullover.

"No, let's stay in uniform", he whispered. I seemed to remember him asking me to put on my uniform for him before he came here and I had refused because I thought it too kinky and because I needed my uniform to be neat and clean to go back to school. Now I quite fancied a bit of kinky sex and I had spare clothes back at my dorm, so I smiled my consent and touched his tie-knot. He unzipped and pulled down his trousers and I reached up under my skirt and pulled down my knickers, unlacing and removing my shoes on the way. He sat down again to take off his shoes and trousers and as soon as he'd finished I sat on his lap and kissed him deeply and passionately. Without a thought, I had followed my new habit of sweeping my skirt under me as I sat down, so now I could feel his dick rising under me only through the skirt. While I had both my arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, he only put one around me while the other was feeling slowly but firmly up the inside of my nylon-clad thigh. He soon found the top of my stocking and stopped to feel around one of my clips. I didn't mind at all his being turned on by this because I was being turned on by the feel of his stiff collar and grizzly neck.

To encourage him to reach further up, I slipped my outer leg off his lap. When he gently brushed by pubic bush, much later than I had hoped, I signalled my excitement by thrusting hard with my tongue, driving his out of my mouth and reaching into his. As his fingers picked their way through my bush, exploring my now throbbing lips, I could feel his dick pulsing under me and I worried that he might come too soon, so I broke off the kiss and swung myself around to sit beside him so that it could rise freely into the cold air. Being confronted by a penis that was not my own did not seem at all disturbing, as I had expected. I was entirely female now and very randy too. Suddenly he dived forward to root through his trousers on the floor and produced a packet of condoms. Sitting back up on the bed, he took one out and passed it to me. I took it, smiling, although I was surprised by this routine.

I tore open the sachet and held the slimy rubber in the familiar way, though now I had to approach someone else's penis to unroll it. My hands were so different now from my previous life, being small and delicate, that it seemed perfectly right for me to touch his dick. As I rolled on the condom, I was acutely aware of the stiff white cuffs of my blouse just poking out of the royal blue sleeves of my uniform jumper. It really was exciting for us both to be wearing a strict uniform as we made love. Being dressed exactly the same above the waist seemed to enhance both our similarities and our differences. It did not really make it seem any more "naughty" because, such were the St Austell's dress rules that, if we had undressed, we would probably get into worse trouble for not having our ties on than for fornicating in the sick-bay! It was really nice us both being seventeen, I reflected. Although after my earlier masturbation as the fifteen-year-old Janet I had wished to experience sex as a mature woman, I was very happy with the depth of my feelings and glad that he was as inexperienced as I was.

With the condom safely in place, I turned to face down the bed, lay back, raised my knees and spread my legs. As he climbed on top of me, I reached over the front of my skirt and checked out my little fanny. I was amazed how much slimy wetness I had oozed all over my pubic hair without being anywhere near orgasm yet. Unlike his inexpert fingers, mine went straight to my clitoris and started rubbing it just as vigorously as I wanted. When he was in position over me, he added to my efforts at first by dangling the loose sac on the end of his condom all around my fanny, which drove me wild, then he tried to plunge in. This really hurt, as he seemed to miss both the position and angle of my vagina. I grabbed his rubber-clad shaft and tried to guide it in, but I was as ignorant as him, so it took several attempts. Although it was pleasant and smooth to feel his cock inside me, once we got going, I was disappointed with the lack of stimulation from penetration alone. It seems such bad design that the clitoris is away from the edge of the vagina. I got my finger back onto it and resumed my vigorous rubbing. Very soon I was gasping and moaning on the edge. I tried to hold back to give him a chance but suddenly there was wave after electric wave of ecstasy roaring around my body and in the middle of them his breathing suddenly changed and I could just feel some pulses in his cock. As I felt it go limp within me, I was really pleased to have "cum together".

Meanwhile my tits were aching to be sucked and my erect nipples were trying to burst out of my bra. At one stage, Simon had changed his weight onto one hand and cupped my breast with the other, but that contact through my bra, blouse and jumper was more frustrating than satisfying, so I had not encouraged it. Now I hugged him down to me and was glad of the pressure of his chest on my tits. He hugged me too and began kissing me gently on the forehead, parting my fringe with his lips. I loved the quiet contentment we obviously both felt. I had time to reflect that the sex had not been the ideal I had imagined for my first female experience, but pleasantly surprising for its excitement, us both being in school uniform and boarders meeting secretly in a sick-bay.

"That was a really good idea of yours" I said "to keep our uniform on. It's so exciting and naughty!".

"Yes, it's well worth the extra ironing, isn't it?" he replied, grinning. We both knew that we needed some more sleep before our morning lessons so, without further words, we got up and set about cleaning ourselves up. There were paper towels beside the washbasin which were a bit rough on my tender fanny but they served their purpose and I was amazed how much juice was oozing from my vagina. It must have been all mine because, as I had nervously checked, Simon's was clearly still held inside the condom. When we'd finished and put our pants and shoes back on, Simon took the liner out of the bin and tied it up to take away because it must have smelt awful. We straightened out the bed, left the window and door open too and tiptoed downstairs. I was reminded, by finding the front door properly locked this time, what had been the ulterior motive of my visit and felt a little sick at what Simon would think when he found out. This detracted a little from our goodbye kiss and far too soon I found myself outside in the chill morning air. Yes, morning! There was a distinct pinky pre-dawn glow in the sky and immediately I remembered that the Genie had said he would vanish at dawn. I would like to try all sorts of other magic before he went, so I wanted to get out of St Austell's as quickly as possible.

For my previous visit, I had specified the return signal as being sleep, or just closing my eyes for over a minute, so I sat down on the cold stone steps below Oak House front door in my thin skirt and closed my eyes. I began to remember that I hadn't specified this second visit at all and to doubt if I could actually get back. How could I wait a whole minute? I know, I'd count to a hundred; that would keep my mind off those awful negative thoughts, too. I reached one hundred: too fast, I thought, and counted on to two hundred. Then I opened my eyes, almost in panic, to find myself still in the grounds of St. Austell's and still very much Janet Harris, aware of my sore, freshly-screwed fanny. The sky was rapidly getting brighter. I would have to try getting back to my dormitory bed and getting to sleep, so I hurried back to Sycamore House. I had to admit, on the way, that I quite liked the idea of living the rest of my life as Janet. I really liked Simon, in fact I found I was just about in love with him. Then I remembered that all the magical changes of this fantastic night had been according to my wishes, whether spoken or thought, whether conscious or subconscious, so I must stop myself wishing to remain here. I thought about having those gruelling A-level exams to take next year and the restrictions of being at a boarding school, but I was wondering whether Simon and I could go to the same university and reflecting that opportunities like we had just enjoyed might be even harder to snatch if we had been living at home.

Arriving at Sycamore front door, I was relieved to find it still on the latch, but very stiff to open because my friends had propped the doormat against it to stop it blowing open. I blushed to think that they knew I would be several hours with Simon in Oak sick-bay. I took off my shoes and tiptoed upstairs, found my bed in the dark, quickly stripped off, pulled on my regulation blue nightie and climbed gladly into bed. I looked at the dawn glow shining dimly around the thick curtains and knew that I would have to get to sleep quickly. I shut my eyes and tried to calm down my fear of being Janet again when I awoke, while making myself wish to be male again, back in my flat. I started counting sheep and felt really pleased with myself for actually being been asleep when I dimly heard a bell ringing, repeatedly and persistently. I really didn't want to move. Not only was I exhausted by my recent exertions with Simon, but by the whole night of excitement, thanks to the Genie. The bell stopped ringing and I wanted to doze a little longer, but I suddenly realised that I shouldn't be still in a nightie, with tits and a not unpleasant ache from my groin which was definitely my well-used fanny. Frightened again, I opened one eye to see the sun streaming though the opened curtains onto the other girls, getting up and dressed in their PE kit for the morning run. One of them came over and called to me and I realised I had no choice but to carry on doing what I had to do in this new life of mine, so I swung my slender legs out of the bed and pulled up first clean knickers and then my little blue sports skirt. Most of the time I was too busy to reflect on what was happening to me, but in the odd moment of calm, I tried to work out why things seemed to have gone so wrong. I knew that, away from the genie, my options were limited. I had tried closing my eyes, even sleeping for over an hour, and I knew no other way to signal my wish to return.

But did I really wish it enough? I had proved to my satisfaction that sex was better as a girl and I enjoyed being eleven years younger as I jogged along in the morning mists with my fellow boarders. What about my flat, my car and everything else, if this was permanent? I would have to finish my education and start a career all over again now; those millions that the Genie gave me were gone, now, in a way that I had not imagined. And what about dealing with friends and my parents in this new identity? I would get caught out not knowing things that Janet should know, I thought, but, as each hour passed, more of Janet's memories seemed to "come back" to me, until I could answer almost every question about her that came into my head. How could this be? and how could so many of the answers seem new to me? I could still clearly remember that, as a man, I had actually invented Janet and the whole world of St. Austell's about three years before to write a short story.

I found that I was deeply shocked by the ability to remember being two different people at the same time. I was showering after the run when it hit me. I kept remembering things about being a little girl while I could better remember being a little boy ten years earlier. I looked my new self in the eye in the mirror and told myself to be strong. I consciously encouraged myself to enjoy my new body as I lathered it down with shower-gel, but I did not want to masturbate as I had after my haircut, which was either last night or two years ago, whichever way I looked at it. I found that I still enjoyed putting on the stiff uniform blouse, skirt and tie, perhaps just because I remembered how imagining it had turned me on as a man. Perhaps it would soon become irksome, I hoped not. Then I went down to breakfast and lost myself in the sea of crisp white blouses.

So here I am, five years later, at last feeling free to tell my strange story. I'm married to Simon now, expecting our first child. We didn't get to go to the same university and I had other boyfriends, even a broken engagement, before glorious fate brought us back together. I've told him this is pure fiction and that's what I've tried to tell myself. You see, two days after it happened, I tried to tell Crystal, sworn to secrecy, about the genie. She thought it ludicrous that I thought I had not invented the whole former life thing in a dream. She warned me that I would get myself locked up in a hospital if I told anyone else, or even continued to believe in it. I found it hard to face Carrie, who was still one of my friends, because I remembered going out with her when she was older (how strange), breaking up with her and then getting my revenge, disguised as her TV idol. I saw her recently and her tits were definitely smaller again, but I don't want to think about whether she will go out with the man who used to be me, in few years time.

What I still can't work out, though, is when was I dreaming? I clearly remember that I thought I was only a temporary, conjured-up, Janet during that lovely session in Oak sick-bay, which my friends confirm really took place. I'm not, as Janet, turned on by haircuts in the way that I can clearly remember I was as Tom. In a worse period of self- doubt, a couple of years ago, I travelled to my old town and sought out my old flat, but lacked the courage to ring the bell or ask a neighbour what had happened to my other self. His name was not in the phone book. Perhaps I should have tried the voters' roll for that address. So I could have just been dreaming. What do you think?

The End

06.06.08