Genie Trouble.
by Ventrego
The repeated banging of heavy metal plates guided Michael to his neighbor's workout area opposite from Mike's house. The powerfully built man's chest flexed impressively as he bench pressed more than Mike weighed. The man's bulging stomach marked him as a powerlifter rather than a bodybuilder. Mike couldn't help admiring his neighbor's thick beefy build as he approached. "Umm...hello?"
Mike flinched as the weights banged down harder than usual. Dave's face swiveled towards the newcomer before he hauled himself up into a sitting position. Beefy fingers adjusted red leather workout gloves as he said, "Whaddaya want?"
"Hi. I'm Michael, just moved in next door." Mike extended his hand and smiled.
The raspy, sweaty workout glove dug into Mike's skin as they shook, the big man using rather more grip than necessary. Mike winced and drew back a hand covered with reddening abrasions.
"Kinda soft, ain't ya?
"Umm....probably. And you are...?"
The big man's head cocked backwards proudly. "Dave. You're moving in next door?"
"Err, yes."
"Great. Keep your business to yourself, and if I catch you watching me work out again, you'll regret it. Got it?" Dave lay back down and put his hands on the grips for the bench press.
"Uh..." Mike said quietly.
Powerful shoulders braced for the next set of reps. Dave's face popped up over his beefy chest to glare at his neighbor. "What're you still doing here?"
"Uh...nice to meet you, I guess."
After pushing the weights up, Dave muttered, loud enough for the retreating Mike to hear, "Fairy."
As Mike trudged back to his house, he wondered if it was illegal to use herbicide to write unflattering messages on your neighbor's lawn. Probably.
---------
After work the next day, Mike was standing in the front yard holding the hose. He stuck his thumb over the opening, sending a spray of water sprinkling over the front lawn.
Across the street, an older Honda pulled into the driveway. A bearded, slightly overweight latino man in jeans and a dirty tee shirt stepped out. He made eye contact with Mike and waved.
Mike waved back, unwittingly shaking the hose in the air. He ducked as water splashed against his head and shoulders. The man across the street laughed and crossed the pavement. An inch or two shorter than Mike, the man's head tipped up slightly as he said, "Hey, buddy, how's it going?"
"Good, thanks." Mike pointed the stream of water off to the side. "Guess I should watch where I aim this thing."
The man chuckled. "You moving in here? My wife said she saw a moving van unload a few days ago."
"Yeah, just got my stuff in yesterday. Name's Mike." Mike extended his hand, which still displayed bruises from Dan's crushing grip.
"Jose" replied the man, shaking Mike's hand warmly. "I do landscaping, as you can probably tell." Jose indicated the dirt and grass smears on the shirt that bulged slightly over his beltline.
"Mike. I just got hired at GeneraTech."
"How do you like the neighborhood so far?"
"It seems pretty quiet, but I dunno...the first guy I met..."
Jose's face soured slightly before his easy smile returned. "That's Dave for ya. He's a prick to everybody. Don't let him throw you. Most of the people on this block are pretty nice."
As Mike resumed moving the spray across the lawn, Jose named some of the other families living nearby. "Most of them you won't see often," he said. "They're friendly enough, just busy most of the time. My wife Ria's always home, so if you need anything, just ask, okay?"
"Thanks. Actually, I'm expecting a package over the next few days - can you sign for it if it comes while I'm at work?"
"Sure thing, bud. I'm usually gone mornings, but if it comes in the afternoon, I'll hold it for you."
Mike smiled and shook the man's hand. "Thanks."
Still holding Mike's hand, Jose said, "Why don't you come over for dinner some night? My wife Ria's a great cook."
"I would love to! Definitely!"
As Jose walked back to his own house, Mike directed the spray away from the muddy patch that had formed while the two talked. His right hand, still scraped in several places, didn't sting as much as it had.
---------
Mike groaned as the alarm went off. His arm reached out from the warm covers and slammed the clock somewhere in the vicinity of the "off" button.
His eyes didn't open again until forty minutes later, when he looked at the time again.
The covers flew to the side as he rocketed out of bed, swearing loudly. One hand fumbled for the shampoo while the other reached for a handle in the shower. As the water warmed up to a comfortable temperature, he leaned out to grab his toothbrush, which teetered out of his wet grasp and slid down into the sink drain.
Abandoning the toothbrush, he pulled himself back into the shower and frantically massaged lather into his hair. Six minutes later he propelled himself out the front door, fully dressed and with his briefcase trailing behind him. In mid-stride, Mike found his feet sharing space with a brown cardboard box on his doorstep.
The box fell sideways onto the grass with a muffled "thump" as Mike stumbled over it, his briefcase swinging wildly. A curse escaped Mike's lips as he scrambled to keep his balance. A moment later he was face-down in the damp grass.
"Hardy har har!"
Mike looked over to see Dave standing at the fence between their yards, his coarse laugh carrying down the street. Dave's brawny shoulders rolled as he guffawed. "For someone who's light in his loafers, you sure ain't light on your feet!"
Mike stood slowly and brushed the grass from his crisp dress shirt. He carefully retrieved his briefcase and the unfortunately-placed package and carried them over to his car. "Yeah, good morning to you too, Dave."
"Man, today was a real pisser until I saw that." Dave continued to laugh as he pitched a bag of garbage out to the curbside. "Let me know next time you get something delivered so I can videotape it."
Mike tucked the package under one arm and used his free hand to fish his keys out of his pocket. He glared over his car at the fuzzy mug of his neighbor, who turned and tramped back into his house.
Mike slammed the trunk lid down before climbing into the drivers' seat. He backed up carefully underneath the large maple tree that overhung his side of the fence from Dave's yard. The branches made quiet scratching noises on the roof as he eased the car out onto the street, going slowly to avoid damaging the paint. The car cleared the tree, turned, and began moving forward. Mike pondered asking Dave to trim the tree, wondering what the reaction would be. He smiled mirthlessly as he pulled up to the stop sign and put on his left turn signal.
---------
Late afternoon breezes blew as keys rattled in the lock of Mike's front door. The knob turned and the door swung open, allowing an overstuffed briefcase held shut by only one buckle to find its way inside.
Its owner followed shortly after, carrying the box that had tripped him earlier, as well as several large computer manuals. His tie dangled unraveled around his neck and wrinkles had spread throughout his formerly pressed shirt. The door shut with a bang. The manuals fell to the carpeted floor and lay there. Mike dropped his keys on the counter and shuffled into the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.
When he reached for the shower door, the package fell from under the crook of his arm. Sighing, he bent over and ripped it open, leaving the cardboard casing on the floor.
The card read, "Thought this would look good on your mantle - Sheila".
Michael pulled off the paper wrapper to reveal a brass oil lamp. It looked newer than he'd have expected; Sheila usually sent him antiques. He set the lamp on the counter next to a neatly folded dry towel and stepped into the shower.
Thirty minutes later, the room was full of steam and Mike felt considerably better. He shook off and reached out of the shower for his towel, grabbing the lamp instead. His wet fingers squeaked across its surface, then felt around for his towel. The cotton was almost to his chest when a deep voice boomed,
"I AWAIT YOUR COMMAND, O MASTER."
Michael jumped. The towel plummeted to the floor.
A figure coalesced out of the vapor. The man wore a brown leather tunic and billowy green pants, a black fu manchu and a vertical strip of beard on his chin. His dark hair was so short it could almost have been shaved. He stood a little shorter than Mike, but considerably more muscular. The flat line of his mouth set off eyes that burned with an unearthly intensity. Twin leather bands encircled his wrists.
Mike stared at the figure with wild eyes. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The figure stepped forward. Mike grabbed the shampoo bottle and waved it in front of him like a weapon. "Stay back!"
The man grinned slightly. "As you wish, Master." The voice was the same as before, but at a more normal volume.
Mike hastily wrapped the towel around his waist as the man continued talking. "I am Abdel, your servant. I am here because you rubbed the lamp, and so I must grant you three wishes."
Mike goggled. "You think you're a GENIE?"
Abdel nodded. "We are also called Djinn."
"How the hell did you get in here?"
Abdel's face remained impassive. "I told you, master. You rubbed the lamp and summoned me. What is your first wish?"
"Look, I don't know who you are or what you're up to..." Michael began to shake slightly.
"Master, you are cold. Let me..." Abdel stepped forward, reaching for the towel.
"BACK!" Mike pushed himself backwards into the shower. "I'll kick your ass, I swear I will!"
Abdel sighed. "Very well."
Neither man moved for a span of minutes. Michael's brow twitched.
"Fine. If you're a genie, do something to prove it."
Suddenly they were standing next to an oasis, with palm trees around them and desert sands drifting off into the distance. The tiny specks of a caravan moved on the horizon. A breeze blew past the surrounding trees, made dry and hot by a thousand miles of sun-baked barrenness.
"How...how did you..." Mike stammered.
He took a few cautious steps around. In the shade of the palms, cool sand sifted up between his toes as he walked. The water was clear and clean.
"Now, if you believe..." said Abdel, his face betraying no feeling.
"Oh, I believe..." said Michael. "I feel ridiculous walking around in a towel. Can we go back to my bathroom now?"
And with that, Mike was back in his shower at home, Abdel still standing just outside. When Mike lifted his foot, sand from some unknown desert sprinkled onto the shower floor.
"Holy shit."
"Would you like a robe, master?"
Mike nodded. Abdel handed Mike the softest cotton robe he'd ever felt. Once he put it on, Mike's shivering stopped.
"So what ARE you? I mean, really."
"Three centuries ago, human magicians created us by breeding demon males with human females. Not many women survived the mating, and even fewer survived the growth of the half-demon children inside them. A few bore children which were stronger than either of their parents. When the magicians discovered the magnitude of the powers we possessed, they became fearful and bound us to these containers, forced to grant wishes for human masters through all eternity."
"Wow. That...uh...really sucks."
"'Sucks'. I am not familiar with that use the word, but it sounds appropriate."
"So you're...you're half-demon?" Mike tentatively squeezed the bicep of the genie, as if testing its reality.
Abdel nodded.
"You look completely human."
"I am able to alter my appearance as I see fit."
"I figured. I guess I'm curious...what do you really look like?"
The genie shrugged. "This form is most comfortable to me, although I have been a dark-skinned woman and a snake as well."
Mike rubbed his face with the robe.
"You've been doing this for three thousand years?"
"Yes." A slight edge crept into Abdel's voice.
"You know what I wish?"
"What, master?"
"I wouldn't want anyone to be a slave, especially for three thousand years. I wish you were free so you could do whatever you want. And thanks for the robe."
Abdel's jaw dropped. He gasped and shuddered violently. His left hand grabbed the band on his right wrist and pulled it off so quickly Mike wasn't sure what had happened. Abdel's hard face burst into a smile as the band tucked in on itself and disappeared.
"At last...freedom! Glorious freedom!" he roared. "No longer Abdel, I rename myself Mutazz...Mutazz the Mighty! Thank you master, and farewell!"
And Mike was again alone in his bathroom.
----------
Mike was about to leave for work the next morning when he found the genie sitting in his living room.
"What're you still doing here?" Mike demanded. "I thought I freed you. Go live your life already!"
The genie gestured vaguely. "This time is very different from my own. I am...used to accompanying my masters when I am free from my bottle, and have been uninvolved with human society through the centuries. I shall remain with you until I know more of human customs."
The genie picked up the television remote and pressed a few buttons.
The screen flicked on, displaying a football game in progress. The genie continued pressing buttons, and the channels switched rapidly past home shopping advertisements, nature shows and sitcoms.
"This is a fascinating game." said the genie. "What are the rules?"
Mike reached over and took the remote from the genie's hand. As he pressed the mute button, he said, "It's not a game. It's entertainment. Loud entertainment. And I've got to go to work. Are you really staying here?"
The genie nodded.
"Then hang out and watch TV for now...it'll be a good way to learn more about the world until I get back." Mike un-muted the sound and left for work, wondering what he'd done to deserve his life.
Jose was about to climb into his truck; spying Mike, he waved.
Mike waved back and jogged across the street. "Hey, Jose!"
Jose grinned. "Mike! What's up?"
"I wanted to let you know, there's a guy who'll be...staying at my house for a few days. So, you know, you don't have to call the cops or something if someone's in the house. If they start taking stuff out, THEN call."
Both men chuckled. Jose asked, "So this guy...who is he? What's he do?"
Mike checked his watch. "I can't into it now...believe it or not, he's a genie."
Jose laughed and said good-naturedly, "Bullshit!"
Mike chuckled. "I kid you not."
"I can think of a few wishes I'd like to have granted. Hell, doesn't everybody?"
"Maybe he'll do it for you, I don't know...we'll talk later, I gotta get to work."
"Me too, man. I'm hours late. Catch ya later!"
Jose's truck had left before Mike's car even pulled out of the driveway.
--------
Mike had just returned from work when there was a knock at the door.
Jose stood there, his hands clapsed in front of him. "Hi Mike I was wondering if..." Jose saw the genie over Mike's shoulder, and stepped inside. Jose smiled broadly at Mutazz and put his hand on shoulder of the Arab. "Say, bud, word has it you're a genie. Think I could ask you for a little help with something?"
A gravely voice emanated from Mutazz' tense face. "I was the servant of a sultan who wanted children, so he wished to be potent. I made his lust match his potency. Within in a week, every woman in his harem was large with child. As pleased as he was at first, his desire forced him to insert more children within them long before they bore the first. Three burst before he took his own life."
Jose's lip twitched.
Mutazz grinned unpleasantly. "Now, is there something you want to ask me for?"
Jose backed towards the doorway. "No...nothing...I just...wanted to say hi." His mouth didn't quite close as he fumbled for the knob. "I...uh...have to go." With a rattle of the latch, the door swung open and he bolted out of the room.
Mutazz stepped past Mike and shut the door, chuckling darkly as the husky latino man disappeared into his house across the street.
He turned to see Mike looking sternly at him, arms crossed. "That wasn't very nice."
Mutazz shrugged.
"You just scared off my neighbor, who's been friendly and helpful ever since I moved in. After what you just said I'll be surprised if I even see him again."
The genie eyed the pattern on the wallpaper behind Mike.
"Was what you told Jose true? About the sultan, I mean?"
One corner of Mutazz' mouth twitched upwards. "Yes."
"So I guess it's a good thing I didn't wish for anything before I freed you. I mean, you'd have done something like that to me too, wouldn't you?"
"Of course."
Mike's face soured. "Well, at least I know where you stand. I'm going to go across the street and try to make up with the one nice neighbor I've met so far." Mike brushed past the genie and opened the door, stepping out into the waning late afternoon sunlight. Mutazz muttered something under his breath, but followed a moment later.
----------
"Look, I'm sorry, it was all a big misunderstanding." said Mike, trying to get Jose to open the door more than a crack.
Jose peered around to see Mutazz standing next to Mike. "Uh-uh. Sorry, amigo."
"Look, I promise he's not going to hurt you," said Mike.
Jose looked anxiously from Mike to the genie and back. "I want to hear him say it."
Mutazz pulled himself up to his full height, but a look from Mike prompted a better reaction. "I promise." he said in a flat tone.
Jose opened the door and allowed the two to step into his house.
"Since he promised, you two can hang out for a while. You guys want a beer?" Jose pointed to the refrigerator. "Sorry my wife ain't here, or she'd cook something quick for you guys."
"No problem." Mike opened the icebox and grabbed two long-necked bottles, handing one to Mutazz. "Thanks," said Mike, twisting the cap. It didn't budge.
"Whoops," Jose rifled through a drawer and pulled out a bottle opener. A moment later, the top from Mike's beer clinked down onto the counter.
Jose turned to Mutazz, holding up the bottle opener. Mutazz grabbed the top of his beer and bent the cap off bare-handed. Jose blinked, then dropped the opener back in the drawer as Mutazz tossed the cap next to Mike's. "You must be handy to have around, Muchacho." said Jose.
Mutazz ignored Mike's glare as Jose led the group into the living room. "So what's up with you guys? That piece of shit Dave give you any more problems?"
Mike winced a bit. "He's...he's Dave. Let's just leave it at that."
Jose took a swig of beer. "Man, I hate that prick. My wife, I think she likes his muscles. I catch her looking sometimes. She says 'oh, no, I'm not interested in him,' but I still catch her sometimes, and she blushes and gets all quiet.."
Mutazz sniffed the beer he held but did not drink it. "Are you concerned that your wife will be unfaithful?"
Jose laughed. "You don't know my Ria. Every time I talk about dieting or working out, she starts making tons of food and saying stuff like, 'Why aren't you eating, don't you like my cooking?' and the next few days I go to bed so stuffed I can't move." Jose slapped the round of his stomach with his free hand, making the small pad of fat jiggle. "I mean, there's big, and then there's big, you know? And she likes me big." The thick-moustached, brown-skinned man leaned back and rested his arms on the back of the couch, showing off all of his two hundred pounds.
Mike stared, his mouth swinging open. Both Mutazz and Jose turned to him expectantly. After a moment, Mike blinked several times, shook his head, and pulled his left foot onto his right knee awkwardly. A ghost of a smile crossed Mutazz' face before he turned back to Jose. The genies' resonant voice pulled attention away from the blushing Mike, who was suddenly staring straight into the bottle between his hands.
"For centuries, the weight of a man was viewed as a symbol of his authority and power. With peasants who ate just enough to stay alive, many a rich man was proud of a stomach only he could afford to feed. Perhaps you were a sultan in a past life."
Jose grinned. "Maybe, muchacho, maybe!" The mexican took a drink of his beer.
"Will you achieve the girth of a sultan again?"
"Hell, I guess it's up to my wife's cooking. That and beer." Another swig from the bottle followed, nearly emptying it.
Mutazz' right hand smoothed down his whiskers. "Perhaps."
Jose's stomach began pushing forward onto his lap. The beer bottle toppled onto the carpet as his hands reached down to grab the rapidly-swelling spare tire that bulged outwards from his midsection. "What...what're you doing to me?" His belly was growing larger, topped by pecs that had puffed into two soft handfuls of flesh. Black belt leather creaked as it stretched taut, Jose's abdomen forcing it to twist nearly flat in front. Soon he was sporting a round pot that bulged three inches front of his chest, and kept pushing forward. "Stop it man, stop it!" he said in a panicked voice.
"Truly you would've been the smallest Sultan in the desert."
Jose continued to expand outwards. "I didn't wish nothin'...ow, my belt...make it stop!"
"Mutazz, knock it off!" Mike barked.
Jose instantly returned to his two hundred pound self.
Jose massaged the overhang of his again-small gut, wincing slightly. He glared at the genie. "Get out. You come in here, drink my beer, and start messing with me? In my own house? You're not welcome here. Get out."
"I assure you..." said Mutazz, in a neutral tone.
"Get out. Now."
A minute later Mike and Mutazz were crossing the street back to Mike's house through the deepening dusk. The chirping of crickets drifted through the cool evening air.
"'What the hell was that?"
A familiar twitch pulled up one side of the genie's mouth. "I was showing him what he'd look like as a sultan."
Mike's feet halted two steps from the sidewalk. "You embarrassed him...and you could have hurt him. You're not sorry at all, are you?"
The genie stopped walking as well. "For centuries, I have granted the desires of fleeting and trivial masters. I am alone on a plane full of inferior beings whose petty concerns of money and power and love are the same as generations before and generations to come. Your lives are to me as this creature's life is to you." Mutazz pointed to a large black beetle crawling on the sidewalk. "What do you care if it thinks well of you?"
Mike's lips pressed together as he looked through the gloom into the foreigners' face. "I think I know why those magicians trapped you in that bottle. It wasn't to because they were afraid of you. It was because they didn't like you. They stuffed you away so they wouldn't have to see you again."
For once, the genie had no answer.
Mike hurried into his house and turned out the porch light, leaving Mutazz standing on the sidewalk as darkness fell.
----------
As Mike left the house for work, he was surprised to discover a large round tent had been pitched in the center of his front yard. From the middle-eastern frillwork around the edges, he had no difficulty guessing who slept inside. He got quickly into his car and drove off.
----------
Dave's workout routine started at ten o'clock sharp, as usual. The remnants of a cool breeze ruffled his boxers and sleeveless gray tee-shirt as he picked up a dumbbell. Five minutes later, his armpits were damp with sweat and he was getting a pretty good pump going.
Inside his tent, Mutazz stretched leisurely. He gazed around at the brightly colored silk cushions scattered on the rug; this tent was far more comfortable than his lamp had ever been.
Outside, Dave sat up on the weight bench and began doing bicep curls, alternating arms with each repetition.
Mutazz opened the flap at the entrance to the tent and stepped out into the fresh morning air. He pulled himself up to his full 5'10" height and stepped onto Mike's porch, knocking loudly on the door. When there was no answer, the genie knocked again, harder.
Dave's voice carried over from next door. "He's not home."
Mutazz's head swiveled to look at Dave, who was resting his right arm on his leg, still holding the dumbbell.
"He took off for work about an hour ago."
The genie stepped over to the fence separating the two yards. "Tell me..." The genie halted mid-sentence and took a deep breath. "Could you tell me where he went, please?"
"I don't give a fuck where he goes," said Dave, switching the weight over to his left arm and doing a slow curl before looking back at the genie. "Probably works at some computer company or something. What're you doing sleeping in his yard?"
Mutazz shrugged. "I couldn't sleep in the house."
"I don't blame you - I couldn't sleep there either, wondering what that fruitcake was going to do in the middle of the night." Dave surveyed the genie's muscular body before putting the weight down and walking over to the fence. "Glad to see there's finally some of my kind of men moving in. Name's Dave."
Mutazz shook the hand Dave extended. Dave's already-pumped arm bulged further as he tightened his grip. Mutazz exerted increasing pressure but showed no signs of strain. The handshake held several seconds longer, and ended only when the genie allowed Dave to pull his hand back. "Quite a grip on you, bud."
"My name is Mutazz."
"I could use a workout partner. How often do you lift?"
"I have never found my strength inadequate. Now, if you don't know where Mike is..." The genie turned to leave.
Dave coughed loudly. "I guess that fag Mike gave you the wrong idea. I ain't trying to hit on you, if that's what you're thinking. I just know that I could get really pumped if I had a little help here."
The genie surveyed the weight equipment Dave had on his porch. "Perhaps Mike wouldn't mind if I took a few minutes to assist one of his neighbors."
A pair of short dumbbells appeared next to Dave's feet.
"Pick them up."
Dave bent forward and grabbed a weight in each hand. His first attempt to lift them resulted in a few grunts but no motion. He widened his stance slightly and crouched down. His thighs bulged as he hauled himself back to his feet. As the weights left the ground, they swung backwards and nearly tipped him off balance. "Holy shit...how much do these things WEIGH?" Dave wobbled before stabilizing upright.
Dave grunted as his left arm pulled its weight up. His already-pumped bicep bulged as the weight pulled to his chest. Small noises of pain escaped him as the straining muscle slowly lowered the weight to his side.
A second later, his right arm followed suit.
He looked at the genie in shock as his left hand pivoted around and his tricep began pulling the weight up again. "What the fuck's going on?...aaah!" His arm shook, struggling to pull the weight higher. It was rising millimeter by millimeter, no matter how he begged his aching hand to drop it. Dave gasped, teeth clenched, spittle flying from his lips as the weight rose more and more slowly until it touched his back.
The weight began an equally slow descent, sending agony through every fiber of Dave's overstrained arm.
"You will continue exercising until Mike returns. I regret that I cannot stay to personally assist you, but perhaps this will make up for living near a...fag, as you call him."
Dave took a few gasps of breath before his right hand pivoted and began rising behind him. The weightlifter groaned loudly as Mutazz turned to cross the street.
----------
Mutazz' knock initially went unanswered. He repeated it several times before Jose opened the door.
The Mexican appeared, wearing blue jeans and a flannel shirt. He gazed at the welcome mat as he said dully, "I thought I told you to go away."
"I have come to apologize." Mutazz' rich voice gave the declaration an air of humbled royalty.
Jose's head shot up. He looked into Mutazz' face. "What?"
Mutazz eyed the top of the doorframe and took a deep breath before continuing. "I was wrong to use my magic on you without your permission. And I should not have relayed the tale of the sultan and his wives. You came over with a simple request, which I could have refused graciously. I have not had that option in the past."
Jose looked past the genie to the sky outside. "I suppose you've had to hear too many wishes from too many people."
The genie pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Perhaps. I have had to grant many, many wishes for my masters. But if granting a wish of yours - in exactly the way you intend - will make things right, I will be happy to do so."
"How can you grant me wishes? Isn't Mike your master?"
"Mike freed me. I am no longer a servant. I would not have you as a master, but I would have you as a friend." The genie stood patiently.
Jose broke into a grin. "You know what, man...you're okay. A little weird maybe, but okay."
The genie's smile was just barely perceptible.
"Look, why don't you come in? I'm off today so my wife left me some burritos, you're welcome to have some if you want."
"I am trying to find Mike."
"I don't know where he works, but he got back around five thirty yesterday. Why don't you hang out with me until then? I'd love to hear more about those sultans."
----------
This section: The section is very descriptive, but it's hard to visualize, and not nearly as crisp as the rest of your story. [Get rid of the redness and veins on Dave; it's like bob blowing chow, goes too far.]
The quiet rumble of a motor proceeded down the street as Mike returned from work. He slowed down to idle as he turned into his driveway, the branches of Dave's maple tree scraping on the roof. The motor idled for a few seconds after the car stopped, and then became quiet.
The door opened and shut. Hard leather dress soles clacked on the concrete as Mike walked to the trunk to pull out his briefcase. A quiet, persistent grunting from the next yard pulled his attention away.
Mike stepped over to the fence between his and Dave's yard, and said "Jesus..."
The footsteps hurried from concrete driveway to grass lawn.
There, Dave was laying on his back, arms straight out from his shoulders and at a thirty degree angle from the ground. The weights he'd been hoisting upwards slammed down when he saw Mike, sinking a half-inch into the earth.
"Glad...to see you..." croaked Dave.
"Jesus, Dave, are you all right? What the hell have you been doing?" said Mike.
"Exercising." Dave's voice was horse and strained. "Exercising everything..."
Mike surveyed his neighbor. Dave was normally a big guy, but now he was more pumped than Mike had ever seen him. His armless sweatshirt, normally loose, was nearly snug across his swollen chest. His shoulders seemed nearly as full and round as his cannonball biceps. Muscular forearms lead down to beefy hands that bulged from the openings in his workout gloves. Even his legs seemed larger than usual.
Mike bent down. "Let me help you." Dave made no attempt to struggle as Mike rolled the heavy weights off his neighbor's palms. "Damn..." Mike gingerly unfastened the workout gloves and pulled them off. Dave's palms were red, raw, and blistered despite the protective leather gear. "Are you alright?"
Dave choked slightly as he fought to form the words. "Thirsty..."
Mike ran over to his car and returned with a bottle of water. He uncapped it near Dave's mouth and tipped it up slightly. "Here, drink this."
Mike's massive neighbor greedily gulped the bottle's contents down.
"Better..." said Dave. "...thanks." His head rested again on the soft grass.
"Do you want me to help you up?"
"No..I just want to rest. Really, I'll...be okay."
Mike paused for a moment before standing. "Okay...but I'll be keeping an eye on you."
"Your...your friend was looking for you."
"Mutazz? It figures. Where did he go?"
"Over...across the street." Dave gestured with one hand, then seemed to sink a little deeper into the lawn.
Mike looked over in the direction Dave have indicated - Jose's house. "Shit! I've got to get over there...are you going to be okay?"
Dave nodded slightly without opening his eyes. "I'll go into the house in a minute."
Mike patted a shoulder that was broader than his hand. His shoes clacked on the asphalt as he darted across the street.
Jose's front door banged open as Mike charged in, looking around frantically. He skittered through the kitchen and froze mid-step at the entrance to the living room, panting heavily. Jose and the genie were sitting near each other, Jose in an easy chair and the genie recumbent on the sofa. Empty mugs and glasses littered the room. Remnants of red- and amber-colored liquids sparkled from within.
Jose beamed at Michael, glassy-eyed. "Mike! Musta...Muta...Mutazz here have been trying a bunch of different things. He didn't...hic...like my beer. So we've been trying other stuff.."
Mutazz shrugged. The genie's face held a slight flush. "We've compared the spirits of three centuries. Those of modern times are far less potent."
"What is this?" Jose held out a brown wooden mug of simple design.
"It's a Mongol beer drunk by Genghis Khan. When he wasn't downing ox blood and milk, that is."
Jose made a face. "Blood and milk...pha! Why would anyone drink that? But this..." He tipped up the mug, draining it completely.
Mike stepped carefully into the room, knocking a few glasses out of the way before he seated himself across from his two friends. "It sounds like things are going pretty well here?"
"Hell, yes!" Jose enthused, sitting up unsteadily. "This bud of yours - he's..." The spanish words which followed meant nothing to Mike, but they sounded positive. Jose flopped back down on the couch, saying, "Man, this stuff is great."
The genie reached over and thumped Jose's stomach. "Your fondness for beer has a price, my friend."
Jose looked at down at the pad of fat that filled out his flannel shirt. "Yeah, I'm turning into a real fatass. Maybe that should be my nickname at work! I can hear the guys calling me, 'hey fatass!'" Jose laughed raucously.
The genie and Mike both chuckled.
"It's awful," Jose continued. "The way my wife feeds my. I mean, I used to be a little skinny guy, and now look at me! I just keep getting fatter!" Jose stuck out his stomach, pushing the flannel forward.
Mike shifted in his chair.
Jose sat up and grabbed the genie's arm. "Hey, man...that's my wish!"
Mutazz frowned, then shook his head as if to clear it. "What is?"
"Make me fatter."
The genie cleared his throat. "I mean no disrespect, but you did not seem pleased when I did that yesterday."
"That was too quick! I mean, you had me scared then. I thought I was gonna pop or something! And I can't just swell up - who'd believe it was me? What would I say to Ria? I want it slow enough that I can deal with it."
A moment later, Jose gestured with both hands. "But...but...don't make it too slow, neither. I want to grow into a huge fucking fatass, and quick. I want the guys at work to wonder why I'm showing up bigger every fucking day. I'll tell them it's Ria's great cooking."
Mutazz pondered a moment before replying. "No problem."
"So when does it start? Do I gotta do anything?"
The genie looked over at Mike. Mike had just nodded "yes" when the front door opened. A woman's voice called in from the front room. "Jose? Que es tu?"
"Shit...that's Ria! She can't see the living room looking like this..." Jose grabbed an armload of clattering mugs, which promptly disappeared from his grasp.
Ria, a short, slender woman, poked her head into the living room. "Jose?"
She saw the three men sitting there, with the room in perfect order.
"Jose..." Ria said in a scolding tone.
Jose blinked a few times before answering. The pleasant drunken haze had disappeared from his eyes. "Yes?"
"You dusted! And vacuumed! Thank you!"
Jose looked around at the immaculate living room, then back at his wife. Fortunately, she didn't wait long for a reply. "And who are your friends?"
"This is Mike, and Mutazz. Mike and Mutazz, my wife Ria."
Mike gently shook the proffered hand. "Nice to meet you."
Mutazz stood up in a single, fluid motion. "It is a rare pleasure to meet as beautiful a woman as yourself, Senora." Ria's eyes opened wide as Mutazz bowed and kissed her hand. She flushed and smiled broadly as he righted himself.
"Show off," muttered Mike.
Jose just grinned.
Ria fanned herself slightly, "I was just about to start cooking...would you like to stay for dinner?"
"As much as we appreciate the offer, Mike and I have some business to attend to. But perhaps another day, over dinner, we can learn all about you while we bask in the light of your beauty." The genie took Ria's hand up to his mouth and kissed it again.
Mike rolled his eyes, but Ria blushed and giggled. Jose followed Mike and Mutazz to the front door, his face bearing its usual easy smile. "You guys have to come over again - soon." he said. "I mean it. How about dinner tomorrow?"
"Deal," said Mike, shaking the mexican's hand. "I'll pick some beer up on the way home from work." Behind Jose, Ria smiled and ducked into the kitchen.
Mutazz shook Jose's hand, but made sure Ria was out of earshot before speaking. "You must eat well tonight, my friend. You will get fatter so quickly your wife may think some other woman is feeding you. And Mike? Let me bring the beer. “
Jose grinned as he closed the door.
As Mutazz and Mike crossed the street, Mike blurted out, "Dude...were you hitting on his wife?"
Mutazz smiled. "I merely put her in a good mood. It will make Jose's evening even more enjoyable."
Mike thought about this for a moment, then grinned. There was a silence between them before Mutazz spoke again.
"That was not as unpleasant as I thought."
"Yeah, Jose's a nice guy."
"I meant granting his wish. It is quite different than when I chose to, rather than being bound.”
"I'm glad to hear it. It must've felt weird not twisting it or anything."
Mutazz's lip twitched. "Indeed."
Mike poked his head over the fence between his and Dave's yard. The magically-conjured dumbbells had disappeared, but the lawn still displayed several wounds from Dave's exertions. The powerlifter himself was nowhere to be seen.
"That reminds me...what did you do to Dave? Is he going to be alright?"
"He asked me to assist him in his workout."
"Well, you certainly did that. He looked like he'd been going full-bore all day. I'm surprised he could still move. He's definitely going to be sore tomorrow."
"Had he not said uncomplimentary things about you, I would have left him unmolested. I hope he will remember this the next time he speaks of you."
Mike stepped up onto his porch and opened the front door. He looked at the tent in the front yard, and said, "So...do you want to sleep in the house tonight, or is the tent more comfortable?"
Mutazz eyed the doorway of the house, and said, "I think I might be more...at ease...in the tent."
"Suit yourself." Mike went into his house for the night, but left the porch light on. Mutazz lifted a canvas flap and disappeared into his tent.