#genie lamps

[themaymoth]

the Evil King's daily routine💕🪞💘

✨yaaaayy another fairytale au, another day of Yin Yu dealing with his masters crush on the prince✨

[hyunpic]

happy birthday kkami 🩷

[cubbihue]

I get the feel Norm was out of the loop until recently. Thats what being stuck in a lamp does to a fella.

Final! With his stupid new master occupated with a tasty sandwich, Norm can start phase 1 of his plan. He spent years cooking up the perfect plan, now all he's gotta do is get H.P and Sanderson on board then-

- Wait why is Turner in Pixie HQ? Why is he a pixie? What do you MEAN he's the best pixie employee? He has a godBROTHER? THOSE TWO BOZOS KIDNAPPED TURNER??

HOW LONG WAS I IN THE LAMP???

Now he can't mess with Timmy so easily anymore. It and pisses him off.

I don't remember if Norm met Peri. I sent you that another ask. Had to break it up. Also love your art!

2/2

Norm may have been out of the loop, initially. But he picks up on the facts very quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly.

No Fairy have ever asked Timmy about his experiences when he was human. Nor did any Fairy ask him how it was like to become a Fairy. Norm's the first being in 200 years to do it and Timmy's.

Uncomfortable.

In one conversation, they learned more about each other than Timmy liked. With one response, Norm has learned more about Timmy's current state than Timmy realized he'd given. More so, Norm knows more about Timmy's fate than Timmy does himself.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[fafnir19]

Genie's lamp

Lex strolled along the cobblestone streets of the small coastal town, soaking in the salty breeze that whispered tales of the sea. His summer holidays had brought him here, seeking respite from the bustling city life and his studies that had consumed him for so long. As he wandered, a glint of light caught his eye, drawing him to a narrow side street where an ancient-looking shop stood, its wooden sign creaking in the wind. Intrigued, Lex pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside, the musty smell of old books and incense enveloping him. Shelves lined with peculiar artifacts and trinkets stretched out before him, each item holding a hint of mystery within its aged confines. "Welcome, young traveler," a voice called out, drawing Lex's attention to a figure behind the counter. Declan, the shop owner, stood before him, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Feel free to browse my collection. I must make a quick errand to the post office, but I'll return shortly." As Declan made his exit, Lex's curious gaze wandered over the shelves filled with curiosities from distant lands. His eyes landed on a tarnished Arabic lamp, its intricate designs whispering of tales untold.

As he lifted the lamp, a playful grin tugged at his lips, recalling childhood tales of genies and their whimsical magic. He rubbed the lamp absentmindedly, half-expecting nothing but a puff of dust to emerge. Lex's eyes widened in awe as he watched the ancient lamp in his hands start to emit wisps of smoke. His heart raced with excitement, a smile spreading across his face. The air crackled with energy as the smoke coalesced into a muscular figure, clad in black leather harem pants, standing with their back to him.

"Cool, a real genie! I already know what I will wish for! Ahm… what’s actually your name, genie?" Lex exclaimed, overcome with excitement. Turning slowly to face Lex, the genie's eyes gleamed with a potent mix of mischief and malevolence. "I am Jafar," the genie rumbled, his voice laced with authority "You will refer to me as Master, mere mortal." Confusion clouded Lex's features at the genie's command. "Master? What do you mean?" he spluttered, uncertainty tainting his tone. The genie's next words sent a shiver down Lex's spine. "Kneel before me and submit," Jafar commanded, his voice steely with power. Fear gripped Lex's heart, his instincts urging him to flee as he took a step back. With a shaky voice, he stammered, "I...I have to go." His heart raced as he made a break for the door. But before he could make it, an unseen force lifted him off the ground, tendrils of smoke enveloping him. Panic seized him as he felt himself turning to smoke, his very essence slipping away.

The laughter of the genie echoed around him as Lex found himself being pulled into the ancient lamp. Inside, the world shifted around him, his clothes transforming into exotic harem pants and golden rings adorning his limbs.

Panic surged through Lex as he pounded against the walls of the lamp, trying to break free from this strange and terrifying prison. Jafar, the genie, held the lamp nonchalantly, observing Lex's futile attempts with amusement.

"You're quite the spirited one, aren't you?" Jafar's voice dripped with malicious charm. "But fear not, the lamp's magic will soon calm you and make you more... impressionable." A strange calmness settled over Lex, his mind clouding with a soothing fog. "Relax, kneel," the genie's voice commanded, its tone both hypnotic and commanding. Filled with a strange sense of peace, Lex obeyed, his anxiety giving way to a bizarre sense of acceptance.

Lex's thoughts grew foggy, his will bending to the genie's influence. "It has always been your hidden desire to help others," Jafar purred. "What better way than to serve me?" Finding a strange sense of logic in the genie's words, Lex embraced the idea of serving.

Followed by the genie's revelations about Lex's yearning for confidence and independence hit uncomfortably close to home. "Your struggles stem from your desire to be strong, my dear Lex," Jafar continued, his voice a luring whisper. "You do not need to be strong yourself, but to walk in the shadow of greatness," Jafar's words resonated within Lex's soul. The genie continued, his voice like a hypnotic melody. "Simply follow a strong master, and you shall find your purpose." A revelation dawned upon Lex, a realization that perhaps he had been searching for guidance all along. Lex felt a strange sense of clarity wash over him and gratitude swelled in his chest as Jafar offered his help and guidance. So, Lex embraced the notion of relinquishing his independence and accepted willingly, to follow where the genie led with a newfound sense of purpose.

Jafar's words cut through the haze, revealing a truth about Lex that he had never acknowledged. "All your struggles stem from one simple truth you deny," Jafar's voice carried a weight of finality. "You are secretly gay, Lex." Lex's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing as he grappled with the unexpected revelation. Could it be true? Had he been blind to his own desires all along? “But... but I’ve never...” Lex's voice faltered, uncertainty clouding his mind. Jafar demanded, "Admit it. Say it aloud. Acknowledge who you truly are." Doubt flickered in Lex' eyes, but after a moment of hesitation, he said, "I...I'm..." his voice trembled before he took a deep breath and uttered the words, "I'm gay, Master." Jafar's laughter rang out, a mix of triumph and satisfaction.

"Well done, my obedient pleasure boy. Embrace your new self." Lex felt a strange mix of liberation and vulnerability wash over him as he acknowledged his hidden truth, sending ripples of change through his being. As the words hung in the air, a wave of acceptance washed over him, mingling with the confusion and fear that clouded his thoughts. Before he could dwell on his newfound revelation, Jafar swiftly sprung into the lamp.

Jafar's eyes danced with triumph as he took a step closer to Lex, his movements predatory and sinuous. With a swift motion, he caressed Lex thighs and member through the delicate fabric of the harem pants. A moan escaped Lex's lips as he felt the undeniable response of his body to Jafar's touch. The genie's dark eyes held a predatory gleam as he watched Lex' cock respond eagerly to his dominance. "That's mine now, right?" he purred, his voice dripping with power and desire. Lex's response was a guttural moan, a simple "Yes, Master," escaping his lips as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. Jafar's grip on Lex's chin was firm yet gentle as he lifted his gaze, locking eyes with him in an unspoken command. "Show me your devotion," he demanded, his voice laced with undeniable authority. Feeling a mix of devotion and arousal, Lex knelt before Jafar, his hands trembling as he reached for the genie's leather-clad thighs.

As he sucked Jafar’s dick, his mind clouded with submission, a strange eagerness washing over him. The genie's deep chuckle filled the air as Lex' obedience pleased him.

As Jafar reached the heights of pleasure, Lex obediently swallowed every drop of his master's cum, savoring it with an appetite fueled by his submission. Jafar's dark laughter mixed with Lex's moans, creating a symphony of domination and pleasure within the confines of the magical lamp.  Just when the intensity of the moment peaked, a sudden interruption shattered the moment. The shop owner's return brought a jolt of reality to the surreal scene unfolding before him. Declan's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight of the genie and the student, frozen in a moment of twisted bliss. "Ah, Declan, your timing is impeccable as always," Jafar's voice dripped with smooth amusement, his gaze lingering on Lex with a knowing look. Lex's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, unsure of what would come next in this unexpected encounter between master, servant, and unwitting spectator. The air crackled with tension, a sense of anticipation hanging heavy in the magical shop.

Declan's voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade, "Jafar, I wish that you let the boy free!" His words held a tone of authority that demanded obedience. Jafar's eyes narrowed, but he begrudgingly complied, knowing he had to obey Declan's wish. "Your wish is my command, master," he hissed through clenched teeth. In a swirl of magic and smoke, Lex was released from the confines of the lamp, standing once more in the shop, his eyes wide with a mix of relief and confusion.

Declan approached Lex, his gaze filled with sympathy as he explained the gravity of the situation. "I arrived just in time. A few minutes later, and Jafar would have transformed you into a genie for good," he revealed, his tone grave yet comforting. Gratitude swelled within Lex as he realized the extent of Declan's intervention. He had been spared a fate worse than he could imagine.

Lex mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of the events that had unfolded and he felt a sense of overwhelming fatigue wash over him. "I think that's enough excitement for one day. It's time for me to leave," he mumbled wearily, ready to escape the bewildering events of the day. Yet, Declan's words halted him in his tracks, his gaze locking onto Lex with a mix of intent and purpose. "As you have already swallowed Jafar’s seed, you have gained magical powers that need to be trained," Declan explained, his tone unwavering. "You must become my sorcerer apprentice now."

Lex's mind reeled at the sudden shift in his destiny. From a simple student on holiday to now a budding sorcerer under Declan's guidance, his life had taken a dramatic turn.

Though Declan reassured him that Jafar's revelation about his supposed hidden gay desires was part of the genie's corrupting influence, a lingering sense of longing remained within Lex. The memory of serving Jafar, albeit under false pretenses, had stirred something deep within him.

As Lex embarked on this new chapter of his life, delving into the world of magic and sorcery under Declan's tutelage, he couldn't shake off the echoes of his encounter with the genie. The allure of power, the pull of submission, and the whispers of forbidden desires tugged at the edges of his consciousness.

And so, Lex's journey into the realm of mysticism and enchantment began, marked by the lingering shadows of his past encounter and the uncertain promise of what lay ahead as he navigated the path to becoming a powerful sorcerer and, perhaps, mastering the depths of his own desires.

[pulpsandcomics2]

Genie

[fredwkong]

Genie: Marcus’s Wishes

Click here to see the genie’s first master.

Marcus wasn’t your average jockboy. In school, he had been the class queer, marked for bullying because of his femme interests and gay voice. Worse, because he was one of the only Black kids. At university, he’d caught the iron bug and gotten huge, but kept the femininity, too. Nowadays, even with his powerful bod and handsome face, he still got dirty looks for his paisley shirts, peppy attitude, and swishy walk.

It was somewhere around 3 AM, and Marcus was feeling well and truly used. He hadn’t been topped like Mr. Peters had topped him in… he didn’t know how long. The Daddy dom’s husband, Lars, had told Marcus that the couple never double dipped on a guy, which sucked, but Marcus had more than enough wank material from this night alone to get him through.

Lars, still naked, followed the half-dressed Marcus to the living room. Mr. Peters was lounging on the balcony upstairs, smoking. Lars was giving Marcus the instructions for getting to the main street in his thick German accent. The other boys had left a few hours ago to catch the last busses home.

Something caught Marcus’s eye in the dimly lit room. A glint of light off of brass, an old, traditional lamp sitting next to Mr. Peters’ humidor. “What’s that?” Marcus asked.

Lars looked at the lamp like he’d never seen it before. “Some object of Daddy’s,” he grunted. “You like it?”

“It’s beautiful.” Marcus was living in his own place for the first time, and he was starting to decorate. He drifted over and lifted up the lamp. He could base a whole room off of its aesthetics.

“Take it.” Lars waved away Marcus’s half-made protestation. “If Daddy thought it was important he would tell me,” said the German model. “It clashes with our decor.” He moved closer, and growled in Marcus’s ear, “You deserve a present for being such a good slut.”

An hour later, Marcus crashed into bed, not bothering to undress or unpack his bag, leaving the lamp in his gym duffel.

The next morning, he woke up late and made a protein shake for breakfast. As he chugged it, he pulled the lamp out of his bag. Held it up against different spaces in his apartment. It would clash with the Britney poster in the bedroom. Ditto for the Barbie display in his office. He settled on the entryway. He could get a pedestal for it and make an Arabian nook or something.

There was some kind of stain on the side of the lamp. Grabbing a hanky, Marcus started to rub it, but was interrupted as the lamp slid from his grasp and released a cloud of rainbow smoke. When it cleared, a burly Arabian man in a thong and a slutty stringer tank stood in Marcus’s apartment.

“Hey cutie,” said the genie. “Make me some wishes and I’ll get you hot.”

Marcus’s eyes caught on the genie’s ample bulge, and then he processed what he was being offered. In the second before he made his first wish, all he could think was masculinity. There was a corner near his apartment where Hispanic men gathered to shoot the shit in their jeans and tank tops. Their manliness was effortless, totally unstudied, what Marcus had dreamed of being in his childhood.

“I wish I was more manly, like a Latino guy.”

“Got it,” said the genie, with a snap of his fingers. “One Latino meatlover, coming right up.”

Marcus found himself surrounded by a cloud of orange smoke. It smelled like sweat and spices, and Marcus found himself inhaling it deeply. The scent blazed a trail through his mind, and Marcus started to think in Spanish rather than English. His university education vanished, replaced by the foundation of his own landscaping company at 18, and all the hard, manual labour involved in maintaining and building yards for rich, lazy white people.

At the same time, the smoke pumped up Marcus’s big Black muscles further, and lightened them to a sun-kissed tan. His hair straightened and retracted partway into his scalp, leaving him with a simple, masculine haircut. His dick and balls expanded, and the extra testosterone threw his already ripe armpits into overdrive, filling the room with the smell of his sweat. Finally, the last of the smoke thickened into threadbare white briefs, tight jeans, and a tighter tank top, an outfit fit for the masc Latino guy Marcus was becoming.

The genie snapped his fingers once again, and Marcus’s apartment became Marco’s house, a one storey bachelor pad full of thrifted furniture, hand-me-downs, and Marco’s curated selection of Tom of Finland prints hung on the walls.

Marco looked around with satisfaction, his big, callused hands on his hips. “Buen, cabron,” he told the genie in his deep, firm voice. “I need to go work now.”

“See you tomorrow, hermoso,” said the genie, vanishing back into the lamp that sat on Marco’s living room dildo shelf.

During the day, Marco drove his pickup truck to the office, maintained the lawns for some clients, and handled everything it took to run his own business. He hadn’t done great at school—too busy working so his mami could rest—but once he’d founded the business he’d discovered a knack for accounting, so he sat in his air conditioned office to do paperwork while his college boy employees worked through the heat of the afternoon.

Well, he finished the work in an hour and spent another two sniffing his spicy pits while he tugged his thick cock.

After work, Marco drove home, checked his immaculate front and back yards for anything that needed maintenance, and fired up the barbecue. He didn’t realise he had cooked for four until he sat down at the table with a mountain of meat and no one to feed.

The next morning, Marco summoned the genie bright and early with his second wish. “I wish I had some amigos to share the evenings with.”

“Aww, you could have just asked,” the genie cooed, and blew Marco a kiss as he vanished, sending a heart-shaped orange smoke ring to hit Marco in the face with the scent of musk and spice. When nothing seemed to change, Marco shrugged and loaded up his truck for work.

At the first client’s house, Marco dealt with the usual white housewife cooing over his big muscles and blue-collar masculinity with a roll of his eyes. But then the woman’s son, a lean twunk home for the summer, stumbled down the stairs for coffee. He glanced at Marco, who was setting up the lawnmower, and saw a flash of orange light as his nostrils filled with the scent of the Latino’s musk, and his mouth with the flavour of unwashed Latin cock.

As Marco packed his truck back up, the twunk stepped shyly up next to him. At first, he asked the usual questions about Marco’s gym routine, but then Marco raised his arms, showing his hairy pits and releasing a cloud of fresh, sweaty musk, and the white boy seemed to swallow his tongue. He handed Marco a paper with his number on it and fled.

It was the same with every client that day. At some point while he worked at each house, a cute young white boy would walk up and hand Marco his number. Some were little femme twinks, others buff jocks, and a couple were cute hairy cubs. All were shy, pretty, and lived in the rich neighbourhoods Marco worked in. While he was in the office that afternoon, Marco was so busy talking to all his new boys that he fell behind on the accounting.

That evening, Marco’s house was full of the voices of hot young guys. They filled the dining table, the couches, and the patio Marco had built with his own hands. Marco barbecued to his heart’s content and wandered among the boys with his own plate. As he greeted each new boy, Marco instinctively pulled them in for a firm kiss and grope, then said “Hola, mi chiquita.”

As the night went on, the boys got rowdier and hornier. The rich, potent smell of Marco’s musk and the genie’s magic filled the rapidly heating space, and Marco found himself on his bed in a happy pile of rich white boys desperate to sniff and lick him all over. Just at the stroke of midnight, the genie heard Marco, facefucking a little twink while some jocks and cubs worshipped him, mutter, “I wish I could see myself fuck this little gringo.”

A blast of magic suffused every corner of the house with musky orange smoke. When it cleared, Marco’s bed was surrounded by film cameras, taking different angles as he shoved his thick Latin dick into the white twink’s throat. In the spare room, two of the nerdier boys sat naked at monitors and called shots for the stream. Each room had a camera setup, including a hidden corner on the patio and a secluded bower in the garden.

Once he was done with the twink and a sweaty musk worship session with a couple of jock boys, Marco got dressed for bed in a pair of stained white briefs and turned to camera one. “That’s all for tonight, gringos,” he told his viewers in an playfully thick Spanish accent. “Come back tomorrow once I’m done working hard on your lawns.” He fondled his pouch, and the stream cut.

As Marco stood by the door, kissing his boys goodbye, one young lad caught sight of a weird lamp sitting next to Papi Marco’s dildo collection.

Idea with inspiration from a chatbot of my own creation.

Click here to see the genie’s next master.

Click here to see all the genie’s adventures.

[l3irdl3rain]

I’m still not 100% sold on any of these so she may end up being something completely different

[siremasterlawrence]

Wishing Upon A Lamp

I am in a deep coma sleep when a giantrock hits the ground running leaving a way too gigantic ole massive hole in the middle of the yard leaving a chasm in my home as I leap from my bed on to my feet racing to my window. I look out to the see comet hitthe ground on impact as I climb out of my window on to the middle tier of my house as I climb down, sliding down to my back yard and walk to the comet opening up as the light shines.My body is shining as I touch it the light hit me up hitting my nervous system reacting like lightning, thunder clapping and my eyes began to shift my body goes insane shaking throughout it’s own existence and it totally transforms it to a lamp landing in my hand.

“Yes Master!”

“What the fuck?”

“I am a Genie”

“I noticed”

“How may I serve you ?”

“One wish I guess “

“As many as you like “

“Excellent! Take my hand “

“Interesting “

“I wish to have my ideal life “

“Close your eyes and breath “

“What on earth?”

“Who the hell are you ?”

“Look in to the mirror “

“Is that me? He is sexy”

“Shit! You look fine Master”

“Who is this anyway?”

“A random hot head “

“It’s my body now”

“Damn right it is”

“I am so rock hard and about to cum”

“I am so beautiful “

“Apparently godly”

“The body of work”

“ A spartan”

“A Greek God”

“Motherfucking”

“And vain”

“My right! I am perfection”

“You are indeed perfect “

“Watch me remove my clothes “

“I’ll do to slow”

“Stop teasing me”

“I’ll give my show a strip show”

“Privacy?”

“No! I have a better idea”

“Shake that ass”

“Oh Master”

“My pecs are strong “

“Can I hug you?”

“What timeless shadow I have?”

“Ok Vain”

“My ass is filled up”

“Let me spin about “

“I am taking a shower “

“The water rises”

“The steam flows”

“My body transform “

“My life is everything “

“We are deeply connected “

“This body and I are one”

“Swirling, spinning and I am in heaven”

“No ecstasy”

“Diving deep”

“Into the void “

“Rolling in dirt”

“Making a mess”

“A pig sty! I am rumbling through the mud”

“I want to pound you Genie”

“I wish you would or could”

The end

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

Lotura Week 2024: Day 1, Fairytales and Mythology

The Jinni in the Bottle

Rated: T

Lotor sits upon the beach, the waves crashing over his bare calves as he holds the strange bottle in his trembling hands. Behind him, makeshift living quarters out of his prison pod gleam in the three suns. “Come on,” he breathes desperately.

His lavender skin is darkened from many days of little shade, his skin scarred from grappling with the sharp bark of the planet’s trees and the fanged sharks of the waters.

“I sense the power within,” he says. His voice carries an unsteady edge as he struggles to open the bottle. “Perhaps you are a lost belonging of other previously stranded souls on this gods-forsaken planet. A civilization like mine that knew quintessence.”

He has grown fond of speaking to inanimate objects. The nearby rock structure is now named Varzax, and the bottle itself is quickly cruising toward a name of its own.

(But if he cannot open the bottle, he may end up naming it Annoying.)

With his Galran strength, he crunches the metal top and wrenches it away, tossing it into the tide. But as he peers into the bottle, instead of seeing a Balmeran crystal or other quintessence-based artifact, all that flies in his face is pink smoke.

Lotor coughs, then his eyes widen as the smoke storms out more intentionally.

The next thing he knows, a warm and hard body slams him down into the tide, lithe figures crunching in on his throat.

His claws protract.

He swings to attack his strange new opponent—only for another hand to slam his arm down above his head, splashing the water hard.

Lotor stares up into purple and blue eyes from a beautiful, feminine face as soft thighs press against his hips.

His cracked lips drop open as his cheeks flame.

(Surely, he has lost his mind.)

The woman’s white curls tumble down her shoulders, her flowing shirt and pants glittering with royal finery. “A Galran,” she hisses, alto voice twisted in fear and hatred. “With the eyes of Zarkon. You must be of his blood.” She looks up in paranoia. “Are there more of you?”

Lotor struggles for words as the magical woman holds him down, the tide washing over them. “Ah,” he says in mild disbelief. “Apologies, I’ve only had conversation with rocks as of late. I thought you’d be a stone, a fragment of quintessence.” With a wily move and twist of his unnatural joints, he slips his wrist away from her sharp grip, only to pat her face. “And you are far too tangible to be a hallucination.”

She sputters against his fingers, jerking her face away.

With a huff, she grabs for his hand and forces it back down. “I am no hallucination,” she declares haughtily. “Emperor Zarkon imprisoned me in that cursed bottle after overrunning my planet, and I have sworn to annihilate his blood for it.”

A little at a time, Lotor’s sun-addled mind catches up with the blush across his face. “A jinni,” he whispers. “That is what you are. A demon who must grants wishes for the one who releases you.”

The magical being holding him down tilts her head, her eyes swirling with the power of entire universes.

Her lips quiver. “And you are blood of Zarkon.”

Lotor huffs at her, half-amused. “Are you to kill me then, or will you grant me a wish as the one who has freed you?” He searches her eyes. “Admittedly, a death by your hand would be far lovelier compared to life on this planet.”

Water crashes against her, spinning her white curls as she sits in the water beside him. “Is that a wish, then?”

Lotor sits up, rubbing his abused throat. His face remains flushed by the memory of her heat upon him. “No. I wish only to know your name.”

The word wish revs up the power that emanates from her, of its own accord.

She hesitates before whispering, “Allura.”

He leans his elbows on his knees, not quite caring that he sits in his underclothes before her, having long lost his shame. “Why did my father also abandon you here to die forgotten, Allura? I wish to know it.”

Allura grows more apprehensive the more he uses the word wish. “I was a princess once,” she says, voice halted. “When he—when he invaded, I…gave up my mortal life in exchange for great power. But it came at great cost and with unusual weaknesses.”

Lotor searches her face again. “Yes, jinnis are easily captured and manipulated, according to legend.” His head tilts. “And yet also devious and wily."

She scoots away from him, as if suddenly realizing he is a man. “You will not wish for me to perform any sordid acts for you, son of Zarkon,” she demands in fear. "For the legends are true that jinnis make many regret their wishes."

He quirks an eyebrow at her.

And then tiredly, he leans his long arms on his knees and says, “Allura of the Djinn, I release you of the conditions that bind you to me. Your presence alone has given me my heart’s desire, which is simply to hear a voice besides my own.”

In that moment, the universe resettles around her, markings upon her face and arms lighting a bright pink before softening once more. She closes her eyes, her throat tightening with deep emotion. “You would release me so easily? Am I not some…some asset that your father wanted you to find?"

Lotor turns to glance out at the horizon, placing a hand over his eyes to block out the sun. “My father marooned me here after I turned against him. I suspect after his many years of pillaging planets, he forgot that he also left you here.”

Allura stares back at the crashed prison pod and clothes hanging to dry from a makeshift wooden structure. She swallows hard and repeats, “You turned against him?”

His wide mouth splits, revealing fangs, but humor does not light his eyes. “I tried to kill him. But I am not sure who is the weakest between us—my father for not killing me, or myself for not successfully completing my mission.”

It falls silent between them.

The demon princess eventually stands, the silver and gold strands on her pink clothes flashing in the light. “The Galra still reign, then.”

“Yes.”

She places a hand on her hips, pressing her full lips together as she paces in the water beside him. “You are a strange Galran man for returning my freewill to me,” she says. There is a sudden, demonic darkness in her eyes. “Now, I will decimate your father’s empire with the power of ages.”

Lotor quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, Allura,” he says in delight. “I’m afraid he’s still protected by his favorite little witch, who no doubt was the one to imprison you. If you are captured again, who will be there to reopen your bottle and free you from a lifetime of granting wishes?”

The woman steps back, face tight.

Lotor stands from the waters, his own white hair a tangled straggle. “Allura of the Djinn, I propose an alliance to take down my father once and for all,” he says. “So long as no one but me sees you, we could corrode his authority from the inside out—obtain the revenge we both desire.”  

She eyes him now with genuine, wary curiosity. “In what way, son of Zarkon?”

There is a wildness and slight insanity in Lotor after a year of solitude. “Make me a prince once more,” he pleads. “With your infinite power, you can manipulate quintessence in ways that not even the witch can. You can build spaceships with a snap of your fingers and change my very appearance so that my father does not recognize me. Through me, you could wage war once more, without fear of your weaknesses being used against you.”

She is actively considering him now, softening. “What is your name, strange man who desires to be my marionette?”

“Lotor of the Galra.”

Her eyes lower to the tides, and then she glances back up, the power of the stars swirling in her gaze. “Very well,” she says, voice echoing. “I will raise you a throne, Lotor of the Galra, and I will provide you the weaponry to kill your father when he least expects it.”

She reaches out, her fingers kind as they press against his cheek.

The instant they touch, his lavender skin bleeds a soft brown, his white hair darkens to an inky black, and from his broad shoulders streams the clothes of a rich and powerful Altean prince.

“Just like this,” Allura whispers, before pulling away in admiration of her work.

Power fades from Lotor as he stares down at his brown hands, his sharp wrists lined with gold. For one brief tick, an aching revelry lights within him, for his entire life, he had been denied finery.

And then he makes a strangled noise as Allura grabs onto his collar and pulls him out of the tide. “Come along, marionette,” she says merrily. “Let us take down an empire and break a few hearts with your new face. We’ll have to think of a new name for you, of course. I once had a mouse named Chulatt, but I do not think that is the name of a prince.”

Water sloshes against his royal boots, his golden robes streaming behind him. “It is not,” he agrees, voice strained.

Allura’s grip is strong, even beyond that of a Galran’s.

And then just as quickly as she had conjured his new clothes, she waves her hand, and in the distance of the beach, a sharp-looking golden spaceship builds itself before Allura’s form itself wavers out.

Before he knows it, a little pink bird settles upon his broad shoulder, chirping at him merrily and preening his dark hair.

Lotor scratches at the golden circlet upon his forehead, his fingers blunt without claws. “Do you not think it is rather ostentatious for all things to be gold?”

The little bird chirps at him petulantly, and Allura’s alto voice echoes in his mind.

Oh, son of Zarkon.

If we are going to kill an emperor who also happens to be your father, then we are going to do so in style.  

@loturaweek2024

[digitalfossils]

[loofandtimmy]

[dragonsruby]

You mean to tell me that Marvel Comics published an issue of the Aladdin comic series where Aladdin and Jasmine swapped bodies, and THE FANDOM IS NORMAL ABOUT IT????

"You big blue boob..."

~ Aladdin (or Jasmine), "Trading Places," 1995

[lazysublimeengineer]

Aladdin: Blue Lock Edition

[shilohsylvanian]

What are your three wishes? 🧞‍♂️

[fafnir19]

Genie's lamp - Part II

The apprentice

Amidst the gentle descent of autumn leaves and the rustling of the wind along the seaside town, Lex found himself standing in Declan's shop, the magical artifacts whispering stories of power and mystique. It had been almost a year since he became Declan's apprentice, delving deep into the mysteries of magic and mastering his newfound powers. However, deep within him, the echoes of his encounter with the malevolent genie, Jafar, still lingered. Alone in the shop, Lex's thoughts drifted to the lamp that once held Jafar captive. Curiosity bubbled within him as he reached for the lamp, his fingers tracing the intricate engravings.

With a mixture of cockiness and determination, he rubbed the lamp, releasing a plume of smoke that coiled and twisted into the familiar form of the genie. Jafar emerged, his dark eyes locking onto Lex with a mix of surprise and intrigue. "You have developed well, Lex! How powerful you appear," Jafar remarked, his voice a melodic blend of malice and allure. Lex straightened his posture, a newfound confidence surging within him as he commanded, "Kneel, Jafar." To Lex's satisfaction, Jafar obeyed, his gaze holding a hint of admiration for the apprentice who dared to challenge him.

"You possess a strength that belies your mortal form, Lex," Jafar mused, a twisted smile dancing on his lips. The balance of power had shifted, and Lex felt the rush of authority coursing through his veins. As Jafar knelt before him, Lex realized the intoxicating allure of control and submission. The desires that once whispered at the edges of his consciousness now danced boldly in the forefront of his mind. "Embrace your destiny as my obedient genie," Lex commanded, his voice laced with a newfound sense of power. Jafar's eyes gleamed with a mix of reverence and hunger as he inclined his head in submission. "Your will shall be done, Master Lex," Jafar intoned dignified. Lex's chest swelled with pride at the genie's words, a newfound confidence coursing through him. "Shut up," Lex commanded, his voice firm and authoritative, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. Jafar's lips curved into a smirk while he knelt before Lex, the shift in power palpable between them. "Suck my cock," Lex commanded, his words delivered with an authority that left Jafar in awe. With a skill that spoke of centuries of experience, Jafar obliged, sending shivers of pleasure down Lex's spine.

However, just as Lex was about to cum, Jafar withdrew, leaving him craving more. "Ah, Jafar," Lex moaned, his voice thick with desire. Jafar's attention shifted, his focus moving to explore Lex's body in ways that ignited a fire within him. The genie's lips explored every inch of Lex's body, setting his skin ablaze with desire.

Moans of pleasure escaped Lex's lips, lost in the haze of arousal that clouded his mind. Jafar's tongue trailed a scorching path from Lex's nipples to his pits, igniting a fire of arousal within him. Lost in a sea of ecstasy, Lex could do nothing but surrender to the waves of pleasure crashing over him, his yearning overwhelming his senses.

Eager to prolong Lex's pleasure, Jafar's tongue sought out more and more erogenous zones, igniting a fire within Lex that threatened to consume him entirely. As Jafar's exploring tongue ventured lower, igniting flames of pleasure within him, Lex was enraptured by the heavenly bliss washing over him. Lex reveled in the sensations, his pride swelling at the control he held over the once commanding genie. The sensation of Jafar's warm, wet tongue exploring his hole sent Lex spiraling into euphoria, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of pleasure. Before he realized it, Jafar rose to his full height, positioning himself between Lex' parted legs.

As Jafar's throbbing member breached Lex's entrance, a gasp of pleasure escaped him. With a seductive but commanding tone, Jafar declared, “I will ride you like the stallion you are!” And without hesitation, Jafar began moving faster and faster, driving Lex to heights of pleasure he had never experienced before.

As Jafar's movements intensified, Lex surrendered to the overpowering sensations, letting himself be carried away by the sheer force of pleasure and desire. With each powerful thrust, he felt a surge of strength and virility coursing through him, as if he had tapped into a primal energy that had been dormant all along. The words echoed in Lex's mind, "Wasn't he a true stallion?" A sense of pride swelled within him as he embraced the moment, reveling in the raw intensity of the experience. “Yes, I'm a virile and strong stud," Lex thought, a newfound confidence seeping into his mind. The acknowledgment of his own power and allure resonated within him. Jafar, sensing the shift in Lex's demeanor, intensified the rhythm of his movements, driving them both towards the pinnacle of ecstasy.

The room filled with the symphony of their joined desires, a crescendo building to a climax that would seal their newfound bond. Finally, with a commanding voice, Jafar ordered, "Cum, Lex!" And like a puppet on strings, Lex obeyed, shooting his load as Jafar's climax mingled with his own.

Lex lay there, his chest heaving, the remnants of pleasure still echoing through his body. Jafar's satisfied smirk sent a shiver down his spine, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in his mind. "Always a pleasure to break in a young stallion," Jafar's voice resonated in the room, wrapping around Lex like a silk ribbon.

His smug satisfaction filled the room and his dominant presence casting a shadow over Lex. "You know how you need to address me henceforth, right?" he asked, his voice low and commanding. The realization washed over Lex like a wave crashing on the shore. He wasn't just merely broken in; he had been expertly tamed and masterfully subdued. Tamed and subdued by the dominant genie who had unveiled desires deep within him, desires he never knew existed. Lex felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized the truth of his newfound allegiance. "Yes, MASTER," he replied, his voice tinged with both submission and a touch of awe. A surge of tranquility washed over him, calming the storm of conflicting emotions within. His mind, once clouded with confusion and resistance, now cleared, the path before him illuminated by the twisted wisdom of his master.

Jafar, his dark eyes swirling with satisfaction, moved closer to Lex, their gazes locked in a silent understanding that transcended mere words. With a possessive touch, Jafar adorned Lex with golden rings, the weight of them a physical reminder of the bond that now bound them together. The transparent chiffon harem-pants clung to Lex's form, a symbol of his submission and devotion to his newfound Master.

As Jafar adorned him with the delicate golden rings and draped him in the sheer harem-pants, Lex couldn't help but feel a strange pride in his submission. The sensation of being possessed by his Master ignited a fire within him, one that whispered of a new purpose waiting to be fulfilled. With a knowing smile, Jafar inquired, "What are your next plans, Lex?" His voice was like velvet, wrapping around Lex's senses and drawing him deeper into the web of submission that had been woven around him. Lex lifted his gaze to meet Jafar's, a newfound resolve shining in his eyes. "To walk in the shadow of your strength is my rightful place, Master Jafar," he declared, the words ringing with a truth that resonated deep within him. Jafar's smirk widened, a sense of satisfaction glinting in his eyes. "You are mine, Lex, completely and utterly. Your submission pleases me," Jafar's voice held a sense of triumph, as if another piece in his malevolent puzzle had fallen into place.

As Declan arrived home, the scene before him caused a mix of shock and disgust to swirl within him. Lex lounged on the sofa, with Jafar towering behind him, a look of possession in his eyes. Jafar's finger trailed over Lex's chin, eliciting a submissive response as Lex seductively sucked on Jafar's fingers. The sight of Lex, dressed in transparent chiffon pants shamelessly showcasing Lex' boner, nearly broke Declan's heart.

"Lex, what is the meaning of this?" Declan's voice rang with a hint of betrayal, his gaze flickering between the shameless sight of Lex and the disapproving glare aimed at Jafar. Jafar, on the other hand, seemed amused by Declan's reaction, savoring the tension in the air. With a smooth tone dripping with malice, he spoke, "Isn't he adorable? Now, submit to me, Declan."

Meanwhile Lex reveled in his master's attention, feeling a sense of revulsion at the thought of having once been Declan's apprentice, finding the old man repulsive in comparison to his powerful and enticing Master Jafar.

With a defiant glare, Declan spat towards Jafar, "I will not bow down to your disgusting presence!" 

Unfazed by the shop owner's resistance, Jafar turned to Lex with a sinister glint in his eyes. "I wish Declan to become a homeless beggar without a voice!" Jafar commanded, his voice dripping with malice. Lex's response was casual, devoid of remorse or hesitation. "Consider it done, Master," he replied, a jarring indifference coloring his words. With a snap of Lex's fingers, Declan's fate was sealed. In a swirl of smoke, the once dignified shop owner and respected mentor was reduced to a ragged, mute beggar, a shadow of his former self - forced to lead a pitiful existence.

Jafar's satisfaction radiated through the room, a twisted grin etched on his face as he looked upon the broken man that Declan had become. Emboldened by his triumph over Declan, Jafar's focus shifted to the moldable clay that was Lex. With a cold determination, he set out to forge Lex into a ruthless prince of sorcery, a cruel master whom others would fear and revere.

Turning back to Lex, his tone softened, a hint of pride lacing his words. "You have done well, my apprentice. Now, it is time to embrace your destiny as a true prince of sorcery, a ruler in your own right." Lex, his gaze vacant yet filled with a newfound sense of power, nodded in agreement. "Yes, Master. I am ready to walk the path you have set before me, to rise to heights unimagined." Jafar's smile widened, a darkness lurking within its depths. "Good. Together, we shall command respect and fear from all who dare to challenge us. Your submission pleases me, Lex. You have embraced your destiny with open arms."

The transformation of the once hopeful apprentice into a dark figure of authority had begun, paving the way for a future tinged with shadows and manipulation.

And so, as the night fell over the small coastal town, a new era dawned. A cruel prince of sorcery was rising, his power unmatched and his heart consumed by the insidious influence of an ancient genie.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i've been very confused about something for a while now. when the portal in s3 warps time and space, people call it the "perfect world". basically, they say that the portal showed what catra's perfect world is (adora not leaving the horde and staying with her). but the show never says that? nowhere in the show do they say that opening the portal would create a perfect world.

did i miss something? is this a mandela effect? or is it another reason for people to victimize catra? "catra's perfect world is where her girlfriend stays with her 🥺" no?? catra wasn't in control of what the portal did. no one was. it was a time warp, it didn't reflect anyone's personal desires.