The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Clara was roused by an odd tingling sensation in her toes. As she began to stir, she realised that the fingers of her left hand were inside her vagina. She quickly removed them and pulled her hand out of her pants as she opened her eyes and looked around. It took her a couple of seconds to remember where she was, and she moaned when she realised that her entrapment hadn’t just been a bad dream. That odd tingling sensation was all through her feet now, and starting to creep up her calves. Clara looked down at her feet and let out a startled yell when she saw that her shins and everything below them had been consumed by a swirling cloud of smoke that was quickly creeping up her legs. Clara’s arms sprang to into action and she began to scramble backwards along the mattress, trying to escape the ominous cloud, but it was no good. As she moved, she dragged the cloud with her. Clara could only look on in horror as her legs disappeared, then her torso and arms. She had scarcely been awake ten seconds before the cloud engulfed her head and all she could see was swirling smoke.

Clara’s vision was only clouded for a second or two. When the smoke lifted from her eyes, she was surprised to find herself in a very dark room, with an illuminated stone pedestal off to her side. She realised that she must me back in the chamber where she discovered the lamp. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dark (a side effect of now being a genie, she assumed), and it wasn’t long before she could make out a person standing infront of her. A man, a young man, staring at her with an expression of utter shock. Then Clara noticed the lamp in his hands and her expression almost mirrored his. Now she realised how she had managed to return to the chamber. This man had obviously rubbed the lamp and summoned her back into the real world.

“Oh no!” Clara said despondently. Before she was merely a prisoner, but now she was a slave. And this fool was her master. Clara wallowed in despair. Her predicament was just getting worse and worse. Eventually, she turned her attention back to the young man. He hadn’t moved at all, and his expression hadn’t changed. Clara now realised that he was trembling. He was obviously of western descent. He had a nice face, not quite boyish, not quite butch, but in a nice middleground, with a solid set of eyebrows that somehow made his eyes seem more commanding. He had a fairly thick five o’clock shadow, like he was normally clean-shaven but hadn’t been near a razor in a few days. His hair was either black or brown, Clara couldn’t be certain as most of it was covered by a light-brown akubra hat. He was also wearing an off-white short-sleeve cotton shirt under an army-style vest that was covered in pockets, and light brown shorts that also had no shortage of pockets. On his feet, Clara noticed, were a good sturdy set of hiking boots. Clara guessed that he was about five foot nine, the same height as herself. Judging from his exposed arms and legs, he didn’t look very strong, but he still had a good build.

Clara watched as his eyes began to wander downward. Wondering what he was looking at, Clara lowered her own gaze. “Oh my God!” She yelled in horror, quickly turning her back to the young man. Her bare breast was still free of her top, and the front of her pants still exhibited a damp patch of her juices! She quickly crammed her breast back into her costume, pulling the strap back over her shoulder to secure it, while summoning a magic cloud of smoke to envelop her hips and legs and replace her stained pants with a clean pair. Recomposing herself, Clara turned around, trying to act as if nothing embarrassing had just happened. Still, the young man’s expression hadn’t changed.

“Hello.” Clara said, trying to move things along. A few more silent seconds passed before the man began to quietly stutter incoherently. Clara leaned forward, trying to make out what he was saying. He soon managed to put together an audible sentence.

“You’re... a... genie?” he said, still staring at her with a look of disbelief. He had an odd accent that Clara couldn’t quite place.

“Apparently.” she responded in a casual tone. A few more silent seconds passed, while the man looked her over carefully, from head to toe.

“A genie?” he repeated, obviously still freaked out.

“Well, I’ve obviously been released by a rhodes scholar. That’s comforting. ARGH!” Clara stumbled backwards and held her hands to her temples as a sharp headache descended on her.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?” The young man asked with obvious concern as he approached her.

Clara wanted to say “Nothing, I’m fine”, but her lips began to move of their own accord, forming completely different words: “I was insolent to you, master, and I should not have been.” She winced as she straightened up. Clara was not a weak person. She was not accustomed, and certainly not happy to say something so submissive to someone else. But she remembered reading somewhere in Zhiasa’s journal that a genie cannot lie to it’s master, so she was not terribly surprised by her involuntary honesty. By the time Clara was standing upright, the headache had left, as quickly as it had come.

“That’s... okay, don’t worry about it...” the young man said absent-mindedly, as his gaze focused on no particular point in the shadowy void of the chamber. He seemed relieved that nothing was majorly wrong, while at the same time bewildered by the idea that he was talking to an actual genie. He began pacing around in small steps, and after a few more seconds, he broke the silence again. “So... you’re a genie? A real genie?” Clara simply nodded. Once bitten, she was too shy to poke fun at his repetitiveness again. Besides, she was beginning to appreciate how surreal this encounter must’ve been from his perspective. “This is ridiculous!” he scoffed.

“So was the global acceptance of disco, but it still happened.” Clara quickly replied.

“This can’t be real... this has got to be heatstroke, or a dream, or something...” the young man insisted. Clara surmised that the accent was probably either Australian or New Zealander.

“Look, I realise that this must seem bizarre, but this isn’t exactly how I planned my day, either...”

“What do you mean?” The young man asked, his curiosity piqued by that last remark, just as his foot began to sink on the trigger stone for the battering ram trap.

“Look out!” Clara yelled as she threw herself at him, pushing him out of harms way just before the massive logs slammed together. The deafening bang echoed throughout the chamber as the young man layed sprawled out on the cold stone floor, with Clara on top of him. They both layed there for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes and catching their breath. Then the mechanical noises began to emanate from the walls and the battering rams began to part. The danger passed, Clara all of a sudden realised that she was lying on top of the young man and violently pushed herself off of him with a disgusted grunt.

“Haven’t you ever been in a place like this before?” she nearly shouted, “Don’t you have the slightest clue about the dangers in ancient complexes like this? You bloody ammm...master.” Clara wanted to say “amateur”, but instead she stammered into addressing him by the only title that the imprisonment spell would allow, until he permitted otherwise.

“Well I have been into a couple of roman catacombs, and an egyptian burial cache, but none of them had a doorbell as loud as that...” he said as he sat up, picking up his hat which had been knocked off in the excitement.

“Very funny!” Clara replied indignantly as the man stood up, “It sounds to me like you should stick to visiting places that come with a tour guide, to keep you safe.”

“Shut up!” the young man said, beginning to tire of the genie’s rudeness, “What do you know about ancient ruins, anyway? Of course you knew that boobytrap was there, you were probably here when they built this place!”

Clara’s face tensed up with anger, and she pointed her finger at the young man as if she was about to give him a stern lecture, but when she tried to say something all she could do was mumble. Her mouth wouldn’t open, her lips were stuck together like they’d been superglued. Mentally searching for an explanation, it didn’t take her long to realise that she’d been compelled to obey his recent command of “Shut up!". Clara hung her head in exasperation, before launching a long string of what seemed to be threats and curse words, mumbled incoherently at the top of her lungs. Her mood was also being clearly conveyed by the gestures of her wildly flailing arms. The young man watched her, mystified, for a few seconds, before it occurred to him what had happened. An amused smirk began to appear on his face, which only enraged Clara further. She tried to attack him with magic, but all her efforts yielded were benign waves of dim blue light fizzling from her fingertips. The magical powers that she’d commanded so masterfully inside the lamp could not be turned against her master.

“You have to do what I tell you, don’t you?” the young man asked. Clara silently glared at him. “One blink for yes, two blinks for no”, he instructed.

Clara gave a prolonged blink and continued to glare at him.

“Wow!” her tormentor was now beaming with amusement, which quickly faded as a thought occurred to him. “Hey wait a minute... I didn’t use up one of my wishes by telling you to shut up did I?”

Clara blinked twice in succession, to the young man’s relief.

“Oh man, this is so fucking cool!” He looked Clara over again, while pondering various ways to test her obedience. Eventually he decided to take a page from a classic Eddie Murphy movie. “Bark like a dog!”

Clara opened her mouth and, to the surprise of both the young man and herself, began to make the actual sound of a dog barking.

“Uh, okay...” the young man said, momentarily thrown by this unexpected result. “Bark like a person pretending to bark like a dog,” he commanded, trying to get the joke back on track.

“Ruuff!” Clara growled in a monotonous, human voice.

“Keep barking...” the young man said with a growing smile.

“Ruuff! Ruuff! Ruuff! Ruuff! Ruuff! Ruuff! Ruuff! Ruuff! Ruuff!”

“Okay, now like a little dog...”

“Arrp! Arrp! Arrp...” Clara began barking in a higher tone, perhaps sounding more like a seal than a dog. The young man was clearly getting a kick out of this.

“Hop on one leg!” he chuckled, to bring the old routine to it’s climax.

As ordered, Clara began to bounce up and down on her right leg, while continuing to yip like a chihuahua. Her new master doubled over, laughing.

“Okay... Okay...” he said as he tried to regain some self-control, “this is cruel...". He was about to say something else, but was momentarily distracted by the sight of Clara’s attractive breasts bouncing up and down in her tight silk top. Then he quickly looked up at her face, as if he was ashamed to have caught himself ogling. The lower half of Clara’s face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes burned with fury. “Shut up again, and you can stop hopping.” the young man commanded. Clara stood at attention with an angry nasal huff, her lips sealed silently once again. She followed his every move with an icy glare as he stepped towards her. “Now if I let you speak, will you calm down?” he asked her in a gentle voice.

Clara stared at him in anger briefly, before accepting that he had made a fair offer. She took a deep calming breath, and gave a single blink as the rage retreated from her eyes.

“Alright, you can talk.” he granted.

Clara parted her lips slightly, if only to make sure she could, but said nothing. The two stood there in silence, looking at each other, neither seeming to know what the next move should be. Then after a while, the young man turned his attention to the lamp, which was on the ground, having been knocked out of his hand when Clara tackled him.

“What did you mean before... when you said that this wasn’t what you intended?” he asked her as he began to walk over to the lamp, being extra careful to avoid the trigger stone for the boobytrap.

“First of all, I said ‘this wasn’t exactly how I’d planned my day’, and by that I meant... that I didn’t intend on getting imprisoned.”

“Imprisoned? How?” he asked her, intrigued, as he bent down to pick up the lamp.

“When I rubbed the lamp. It teleported me into a large chamber with no exit. Then I discover that I’ve been squeezed into a bad halloween costume, and I have all these magical powers...”

The young man dropped the lamp, as a look of horror washed over him.

“...A few hours later, I get swallowed up by a cloud of smoke.” Clara continued, “Next thing I know, I’m back in this chamber and you’re my master.”

“The lamp?!?” the young man said with alarm, “The lamp made you...”

“Don’t worry.” Clara interrupted, “It can’t do anything to you. It only takes one prisoner...” The man breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, wait a minute.... You’re saying that you’re a human? Who got trapped?” he asked as he bent down to pick up the lamp yet again.

“Was a human.” Clara corrected. “Technically, I’ve been transformed into a genie.” The young man took a good look at her once more. It was only now that he recognised her.

“I don’t believe it... You’re... You’re the young lady Roft, aren’t you?” he said in astonishment.

“You’ve heard of me?” Clara asked, pleasantly surprised. However, the surprise quickly turned to anger again as a thought occurred to her. “You’ve heard of me!” she said in a calm-before-the-storm tone, just as he was beginning to respond to her question. “Of course you’ve heard of me, you followed me here! How else could you have gotten here so soon! God, I should’ve realised it before!” Clara ranted to the bewildered young man. “What did you do? Hack into my research? That must be it, because there’s no way that a klutz like you could’ve tailed me without me knowing about... ARGH!", Clara pressed her hands to her temples as she was once again punished for insulting her master.

“So soon? What the hell are you...” the young man replied defensively, stopping short as his expression softened. “Oh my god! You don’t know do you?”

“Know what?” Clara snapped as the headache cleared.

“Lady Roft, you disappeared without a trace over two years ago!”

Clara stared at him in shock and silence.

Clara stepped out into the daylight from behind the huge stone slab. Before Clara had first opened it, the deceivingly plain stone door appeared to be just one in a line of seven slabs inbedded into the mountainside. They, along with some fragments of wall, floor, and the bottoms of a couple of stone columns, were all that remained of a glorious building that Hal’hadin himself had commissioned there centuries ago. The ruins stood on a small plateau about a quarter-way up the mountain. All of the relevant authorities had long ago declared them to be of minimal archaeological importance, but Clara had gathered snippets of information from Hal’hadin’s tomb that lead her to believe that there might’ve been something of interest there after all. With so little remains to search through when she first arrived, it didn’t take her long to discover the pressure switch hidden in one of the narrow gaps between two of the large slabs. Clara had managed to push the switch by sliding a crowbar (that she’d thoughtfully bought in case she needed to do some prying) into the gap. It activated a mechanism that opened the concealed door just enough to allow a person to squeeze through.

Clara’s new master followed her out of the ancient shaft. He had to carry his backpack (in which he’d stowed the lamp) in his hand in order to squeeze through the opening. Clara wandered over to her bike, forlorn as she noticed that there was indeed two and a half years worth of dust collected on it. Up until now she had held hopes that the young man’s previous claim was some kind of sick joke. But now... there was no denying it.

“Your father’s been doing his block trying to find out what happened to you. Last I heard, he’s still funding search parties to comb through the area all around the Alladin tomb.” The young man said from behind her, not needing to see her face to know what was going through her mind.

“That’s over twelve hundred kilometres away!” Clara stated.

“Yeah, well, that’s where the last confirmed siting of you was... I’m sorry.” The young man tried to be comforting, but knew that there wasn’t much that he could say or do at this point to make her feel better. Clara simply stared at the dusty motorbike, lost in thought. She hadn’t bothered to tell anyone where she was going, or even that she was going anywhere. After the ridicule she suffered from suggesting that there might’ve actually been an ‘Alladin’s lamp’, she hadn’t shared any further thoughts she’d had about the subject. When she eventually managed to deduce a possible location for the Princess’s Vault, that had been alluded to in several texts found in the tomb, she took off to explore it without telling anyone. She preferred to work alone, anyway.

Clara turned to the young man as some internal alarm clock told her that it was time for her to return to the here-and-now. “It’s fine... Can we leave now?” she asked, with newfound resolve.

“Sure.” he answered. He led her down the dirt track to his topless jeep that was parked just around a corner and out of view from the ruins. When they got to the jeep the young man threw his backpack onto the back seat, while Clara jumped into the passenger side.

“I need to contact my parents, where’s your sat-phone?” she asked as she began rummaging through the supplies he had stocked in the back.

“Sorry.” the young man chuckled as he climbed in the driver’s seat, “this is a no-frills expedition. Closest thing I’ve got is a CB.”

“Perfect.” Clara complained to herself.

“The nearest town...”

“Is over four hours away, I know” Clara interrupted in frustration.

“...Right. There should be a phone there, you can contact them then.” the young man assured her as he took a pair of sunglasses from the dashboard and put them on. He started the engine, did a reverse three-point turn, and began to cautiously drive down the rugged mountain trail. Even at the low speed, Clara could feel the veils that ran down her back flapping in the gentle breeze. It was quite annoying. After a few minutes, the young man broke the awkward silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, Lady Roft, what exactly are you going to tell your parents?” he asked.

“I have no idea...” Clara replied honestly. She looked out, contemplatively, over the vast dessert they would soon be crossing. Though it was now part of southern Kazakhstan, in medieval times this entire region was part of greater Persia. “Tell me something, how did you find this place?” she asked, changing the subject. “Obviously I didn’t leave a clear trail of research on my computer, if father didn’t send a search party up here, and I bought the only map I marked with the location of the lamp here with me.”

“Well I don’t know about any research you did, I never saw anything with your name published. What did keep popping up in the documentation of the tomb were repeated mentions of a Princess’s Vault that Alladin built during his life. There was even an engraving on a statue in the tomb that said they were buried with a map to the vault.”

“That’s right, except we never found any map in the tomb.” Clara responded, quite curious as to where he was going with this.

“Right, so I start thinking what if they weren’t buried with the map, what if they were buried in the map? You remember that the princess’s sarcophagus was engraved with a bunch of things on the side? A lion, a stallion, a flaming sword, a scorpion, a warrior, and so on?”

“Yes?” Clara said with great interest.

“Well on a hunch, I did a little checking and I discovered that every one of those things was an ancient persian constellation.” the young man continued, as Clara looked on in amazement. “When you put them all together, you can make a map, the same way sailors used to use constellations to find their way home. I know it sounds pretty lame...”

“I don’t think it sounds lame, master. I think it’s brilliant.” Clara said with a tone of sincerity that caught the young man’s full attention. He looked into her deep brown eyes for one serene moment, until the mountain trail demanded his attention back by throwing a large pothole under his wheel. “So you came all the way up here based on a theory?” she asked after the jolt knocked her out of her reverie.

“Well I probably wouldn’t of, except that I found out there was a set of persian ruins at the precise location the map was pointing to.”

“Still... that’s a pretty big leap of faith...” Clara commented.

“I guess...” the young man shrugged.

Clara looked at him with a new feel of respect. Those markings on the princess’s sarcophagus had mystified everybody involved with the tomb’s excavation. They were far more ornate and detailed than any markings ever seen on caskets from that period, even the sarcophagus of Hal’hadin himself. Most of the archaeologists settled on the idea that it was made so lavish because Hal’hadin simply wanted his beloved wife entombed in a beautiful sarcophagus. Clara, however, wasn’t convinced. She suspected that there was an elusive purpose behind the carvings, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But this young man, her new master, had cracked the code, and created an accurate map to the Princess’s Vault. Clara’s own method of finding the vault seemed sloppy by comparison. She knew that the vault was north of the tomb and on or near a mountain, according to texts from the tomb. Then she narrowed down her search based on known travel routes used in the time of Hal’hadin. She researched for five hours a day for two weeks before she managed to turn up a set of ruins that were dated to roughly the time of Hal’hadin, though they were quite far from any known travel routes of the day. When all the time directions to the vault had been right infront of her.

The young man was obviously unseasoned. His field skill was poor (and his driving wasn’t much better), but he was also clearly brilliant, with an adventurous spirit and a desire to explore. Clara could see that he had much to offer as an archaeologist and that made her smile.

The jeep roared into top speed as it came to the end of the rough mountain trail. Clara’s veils began to flap wildly in the wind, annoying her greatly.

“So what’s the deal with the fancy pyjamas?” The young man asked, apparently trying to make conversation.

“They were imposed on me as part of the imprisonment spell, master.”

“Oh god! I’m such a goose! I never introduced myself! The name’s Rourke. Jeff Rourke.", he said extending his right hand. Clara shook his hand.

“Clara Roft.” She introduced herself, despite the fact that he already knew whom she was. Her upbringing had taught her that it was common courtesy to respond to an introduction in kind, if one had not already been formally introduced. “And please, call me Clara.” She continued. “The only one who calls me ‘Lady Roft’ is the butler.” She chuckled.

“Very well. Pleased to meet you, Clara.” He smiled at her, not really needing to watch where he was going, as there was nothing but sand infront of him. “...So this spell... When you rub the lamp, it transports you into some strange chamber...”

“Yes, master.”

“Jeff, please...” he interrupted.

“Thank you, Jeff. I was not allowed to call you by name until you permitted me to do so. I think that the chamber is some kind of magical storage vessel that somehow exists inside of the lamp.”

“Right... So it transports you to this chamber, it turns you into a genie, and then when somebody else rubs the lamp it sends you back into the real world as their slave.”

“Right.” Clara said with a disgruntled sigh. She didn’t care for being referred to as a slave, no matter how true it was.

“...But in all the stories, Alladin already had a genie in his lamp... so what happened to him?” Jeff asked.

“Her.” Clara corrected him, “She was buried with Hal’hadin.”

“What? You mean the princess?” Jeff asked her, confused.

“Yes. She was the lamp’s last resident.” Clara stated. Jeff sat in silence for a few seconds while he absorbed this new information.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked.

“Because Zhiasa kept a detailed journal in the lamp. Everything she learned about ‘geniehood’, all her masters, all the wishes she ever granted, it’s all in there...”

“Sounds like an interesting story...” Jeff said, implying a desire to hear it.

“...It would be if it didn’t end with me starring in the bloody sequel.” Clara said with calm frustration. Jeff Chuckled. “Zhiasa was tricked into the lamp by her evil little sister, who was the one who actually created the lamp to trap Zhiasa...”

“Why?” Jeff interrupted.

“Zhiasa was daddy’s favourite.”

“Oh.”

“...Not to mention the crown princess. So Zhiasa spent the next thirty years as her sister’s slave. Then the sister was murdered and Zhiasa spent the next eight thousand years bouncing from master to master. Eventually she came into the possession of Hal’hadin. He was just a peasant at the time, but he used his first two wishes to become a noble with a great palace. Shortly after that, he and Zhiasa fell in love...”

“Amazing... What happened next?”

“I don’t know. That’s as far as I got into the journal before I... fell asleep.” Clara said, hesitating. She hadn’t lied, just omitted some of the truth. Still, she was a little surprised that the spell let her get away with it. “...By the time I woke up, I was being drawn back into the real world by you.”

“So, wait... you fell asleep for two years?”

“It’s what genies do.” Clara said with a shrug.

“Oh... So that’s why they make you wear the fancy pyjamas!” Jeff smiled. Clara smirked, suppressing a laugh. They sat in silence for a few more seconds, gliding across an endless sea of white sand. After a while, Jeff asked the inevitable question. Frankly, Clara was surprised that it had taken him this long to raise the subject. “So, being a genie, you have to grant wishes, is that right?”

“Correct, Jeff. I have to grant each master I have three wishes.” Clara said, her stomach sinking at the thought of being passed around from master to master like Zhiasa had been.

“Three wishes... no surprises there...” Jeff paused for a moment, thinking. “...But when I told you to shut up, back in the vault, you did it, but you said that it didn’t count as a wish. How does that work?”

“Well, Jeff, I am... your slave” Clara said, clenching her teeth, “and as such, I am bound to obey any simple command you might give me: Sit down, shut up, come here, go away... bark like a dog...”

“Sorry about that.”

“...Anything like that. In addition, I must perform any simple task you ask of me, such as ‘fetch me that pen’, or ‘clean up that mess’. None of which counts as an official wish.”

“So you only use your magic if I make a wish?” Jeff asked. Clara was beginning to notice that Jeff had a very curious nature. Yet another trait she admired.

“Not quite. I can use magic to perform a task you might give me—if you did order me to clean a mess, for example, there would me nothing to stop me from cleaning it up magically, unless you expressly ordered me to do it manually. Also, I can use my magic to make myself more comfortable.” Clara rolled her eyes as a thought occurred to her. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier!” she exclaimed, angry with herself. She closed her eyes as she willed her magic into action. Her clothes began to change in shape, texture and colour. Her top began to morph into a light grey cotton crop top. The straps began to expand to cover her entire shoulders, developing into short sleeves over her arms. The bottom of the garment crept down her body about an inch, still leaving most of her midriff bare. And the material supporting her breasts climbed up to form a more modest covering for her perfect mounds, while still leaving a deep V-cut that exposed a generous amount of cleavage. Clara enjoyed having the ventilation in a climate like this. Meanwhile, her loose silk pants had shrunk to become tight khaki shorts that tightly hugged her firm ass and left very little of her thighs to the imagination. Her dainty slippers had grown in bulk and crept up her ankles to become sturdy jet-black climbing boots. As all this was happening, the thin veils that had been flailing wildly from her back and hair disintegrated into trails of pink dust. The gold clasp that had been holding her hair in place likewise disintegrated. For a few seconds, her gorgeous brown locks danced behind her in the wind, wild and untamed. She looked like a supermodel doing a photoshoot. Then some unseen force grabbed the ends of her hair and began to twist them into a single braid, which ended up stemming from the base of her skull, rather than the top of her head as the previous ponytail had done. Finally, Clara held her hand up, and a pair of sunglasses appeared in it, which Clara immediately put on. Jeff had been watching this entire display, gobsmacked. If it weren’t for the fact that they were driving through a barren dessert, he would’ve surely had an accident. After a few seconds, Clara turned her head slightly, just enough to notice Jeff still gawking at her.

“Most gentlemen would turn their head when a lady changes.” Clara quipped.

“Most gentlemen who saw that wouldn’t believe it, anyway.” Jeff replied. Clara turned her gaze back to the ‘road’ ahead, smiling. “So, umm... where were we?” Jeff asked.

“You were asking about when I use my magic, Jeff.”

“Right, right. So... I can order you to do something magical, and it doesn’t cost me a wish? So what makes a wish a wish?” Jeff asked her. Clara thought about this for a second, knowing what the answer was, but not quite sure how to explain it.

“It’s all to do with scale, or difficulty. Something that you could easily do yourself, or ask another to do doesn’t count as a wish. Something that would otherwise be impossible, or exceedingly difficult would count as a wish, although you would expressly have to say ‘I wish...’ or ‘I command you...’ for the deed to be done. I could transport you down to the bank for free, but if you wanted me to transport you into the vault, you would need to make a wish...”

Jeff found this last remark very interesting.

“You can transport me places?” he asked.

“Yes.” Clara replied, already knowing what he was thinking. She was no fool, she had considdered telling him that she could transport them pretty much anywhere with her magic when they first got in the jeep. She decided against it, however. She didn’t like the idea of volunteering information about all the perks of genie ownership to a man she’d only just met, even if it would give her a chance of contacting her parents sooner.

“Can you take us back to Melbourne?” Jeff asked. Clara had been reasonably sure that he was Australian for a while now, (New Zealanders had a slightly different accent) but this confirmed it.

“I believe I can...” Clara said, a little unsure as to whether she could travel that far.

Jeff looked over at Clara, remembering the sadness in her eyes when he’d first told her about her two year absence. Clara could not believe what she heard when he next spoke.

“How about England?” he asked her, sincerely. Clara stared at him, stunned.

“If that’s what you want, Jeff...” she said, unemotionally, concealing her own hopes quite well.

“Then let’s do it!” he said with a smile. Clara broke out into a big grin. All of a sudden, the harsh light that had been assaulting their eyes dimmed considerably. The empty white plain infront of them had been replaced by a bitumen road, lined by shallow grass embankments, which were in turn bordered by thick forests. The sky was now bleak and overcast and the wind blowing on them had become quite cool. They were on an english highway.

Not even having time to appreciate this incredible transition, Clara and Jeff screamed in terror, as they realised they were about to collide with an oncoming SUV. The SUV’s horn wailed in futile warning as Jeff slammed on the brakes, but with the speed he’d been travelling, they never would’ve stopped in time. Clara, thinking fast, teleported the jeep once again, this time to a point on the road just behind the SUV. Smoke billowed from the tires as the jeep screeched to a halt, sliding just off the road and onto the grass with strong bump. Both their pulses racing, Jeff patted himself down haphazardly, checking for injuries and briskly eyed Clara off to make sure she was okay. He turned around to see the SUV cruising down the road once again. Then he sat back down, panting, his heart thumping wildly, and after a few seconds he figured out how they’d managed to survive. As he began to calm down he turned to Clara with an irate look on his face.

“I had no way of knowing that would be there, did I?” she said, defensively.