Naima, Meet Master Steve Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 3 by deleted_user

The warmth was a sudden, unsettling pulse against your palm, like touching a sleeping creature. You yanked your hand back, the ghost of that heat lingering on your skin. "Dude, did you feel that?"

But your roommate wasn't listening. His eyes, bloodshot and wide, were fixed on the lamp. "No way," he breathed, a slow, greedy smile spreading across his face. He snatched it up, his grimy fingers wrapping around the brass. "It's real."

Before you could form a word of protest, he was rubbing the tarnished surface with the hem of his stained shirt, a frantic, circular motion. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..."

The air in the cramped apartment thickened, humming with a low, resonant frequency that made your teeth ache. The cheap lamp on the floor flickered, died, then surged back to life, casting long, dancing shadows. A shimmering, cobalt-blue smoke began to pour from the lamp's spout, coalescing in the space between you and the ratty couch.

The smoke solidified into a woman.

She was breathtaking, a vision that made every sorority girl you'd ever drooled over look like a cardboard cutout. Her skin was the color of rich honey, and her hair, a cascade of obsidian curls, fell over her bare shoulders. Gold cuffs adorned her upper arms, and the diaphanous silk of her pants hung low on her hips, doing nothing to conceal the generous curve of her hips or the flat plane of her stomach. Her eyes, lined with kohl, held an ancient, knowing amusement.

"Who dares summon me?" Her voice was a low purr that vibrated right in your core.

Your roommate, to his credit, only gaped for a second. "I did! I'm... Steve."

The genie's gaze swept over his stained wifebeater and greasy hair, her smile never faltering. "Very well, Steve. I am Naima. For releasing me, you are granted three wishes. The rules are thus: I cannot kill, I cannot make anyone fall in love, and I cannot grant additional wishes. All other desires are within my power." Her eyes flickered to you, and for a heartbeat, you felt utterly seen, your lazy ambitions and quiet frustrations laid bare. "What is your first desire?"

Steve puffed out his chest, his previous awe replaced by a familiar, arrogant gleam in his eye. "Okay, okay. I've got this. For my first wish... I wish I was, like, the hottest dude on the planet. Like, movie star hot. And hung like a horse."

Naima’s smile was a scythe. "As you wish."

She snapped her fingers.

The transformation was neither gentle nor slow. Steve’s body seemed to blur at the edges. His slouched posture snapped upright as his spine realigned. The soft paunch of his stomach shrank, pulling tight over a rapidly sculpting six-pack. His shoulders broadened, his arms thickening with defined muscle. His jawline sharpened, his skin clearing to a perfect tan, and his greasy hair thickened into lustrous, styled locks. He let out a grunt of mingled pain and pleasure as the changes finished, stumbling back a step. He was, objectively, a perfect male specimen. He looked down at the impressive bulge now straining against his sweatpants and let out a low, triumphant whistle.

"Damn," he breathed, his voice now a confident, resonant baritone. He flexed a bicep, admiring the play of muscle. "Fucking A."

He turned to you, a smug, dazzling smile on his new, perfectly symmetrical face. "Alright, man. What should I wish for next? The money? The mansion?" He looked you up and down, your own soft body still dusted with cheese puff residue. "Or maybe something for my loyal sidekick?"

Naima watched you both, her expression unreadable.