How and Why I Wrote WHAT YOU WANT MOST

Bear with me for a moment, while I seemingly go off-topic.

On the internet is a website, MCStories, where people post stories that have both mind-control and sex. Needless to say, all the author names are pseudonyms. Also needless to say, I visit the site once a week.

My all-time favorite story on that site is “Talked Themselves into It” by Downing Street.

Here is my synopsis—

A crooked politician holding local office (city councillor) dies; and Martin Miller, his chief of staff, runs for his vacated seat. During the campaign, which Martin fully expects to lose, Martin takes a stand on protecting a local park from encroachment by developers. After Martin says this, he is approached by a very odd couple. The woman in the couple is young, blond, and hot, and can get any man she wants. But she is with, and she is utterly devoted to, an old man in failing health. The old man gives Martin a worry stone—a flat stone with a curved groove in it, suitable for rubbing your thumb along. As Martin often is anxious during the campaign (remember, he fully expects to lose), he rubs the worry stone a lot. Then the election happens—and Martin is elected city councillor. This shocks everyone, including Martin. As city councillor, Martin inherits the previous councillor’s staff: four women of different ages, who all are babes. Beautiful women make Martin anxious, so he goes back to often rubbing his thumb over the worry stone in his pocket. And suddenly the women in his office start fetching him coffee, dressing to please him, and giving him blowjobs under his desk. But sexual shenanigans with his staff is the only way that Martin abuses his position: as office-holder, he is honest and upright. It takes Martin a long while to realize that the worry stone, and he often rubbing the worry stone, is what is making everyone around him act oddly.

When I read this story, I liked it for three reasons:

• Virtue is rewarded—Martin is given the magic worry-stone because he proposes to do something civic-minded, rather than what will bring him bribes;

• Martin gets lots of great sex with hot babes (I haven’t even mentioned the nasty developer’s trophy wife, the newspaper reporter, or the lady cop); and

• Martin doesn’t realize that he is mind-controlling all these women, so that he can both be a nice guy and get lots of mind-controlled sex.

Anyway, I liked “Talked Themselves into It” so much that the first mind-control story that I wrote myself, Names Have Power: Tim’s Magic Voice Makes a Harem, had those three same elements in it: a virtuous man rewarded by being given mind-control powers, which he doesn’t realize he’s using, and which brings him lots of sex.

The second mind-control story I wrote, Three More Wishes: Be Kind to Your Genie, also had a good man being rewarded: by his genie making wish-grants that actually went beyond the wording of his wishes. Marvin Harper becomes a 24/7 mind-controller, through his magic touch and his magic pheromones; no surprise, Marvin gets lots of sex.

Note that there is no way that Marvin wonders, even for a second, why women are becoming his sex-slaves. He rubbed a lamp; a genie came out; he spoke wishes; the genie made strange gestures; then the next morning, his life is different. The sex-slave offers are unexpected when he first gets them, but they aren’t shocking or puzzling.

But three months ago, I wondered, Could I combine Names Have Power and Three More Wishes? Could a virtuous man get his wishes granted, and get lots of sex from mind-controlled babes as a result, without him knowing that someone was doing major magic on his behalf and that his wishes were causing all the weirdness?

I played around with that idea, and What You Want Most: Magically Given was the result.

Now buy What You Want Most: Magically Given!
Smashwords—your choice of formats



What if a djinni were granting your strongest wishes, but you didn’t know this? What would life be like?

NOTE: This story is set in the same universe as Three More Wishes: Be Kind to Your Genie and Wishes, Genies, Sex, and Death: Marvin and Fatima THREE-IN-ONE.

Bashira is a djinni of the Green Tribe of Djinn, the same Tribe to which genie Fatima belongs. But Bashira is a free djinni, not bound like Fatima—Bashira does not live in a lamp, and Bashira has never granted a wish in her millennia-long life.

A young man, Brian Maslow, rescues a mother and two daughters from a flooded car, during a scary thunderstorm (with blasting rain, high winds, thunder, lightning, and a tornado warning). Brian is frightened of being outside in the nasty weather, but he saves the helpless mother and daughters. Bashira finds out about Brian’s brave deed and decides to reward him.

Bashira doesn’t grant Brian wishes as such; he doesn’t need to rub a lamp or say “I wish…” But ten times, whenever Brian blurts out “I really want such-and-so,” he gets it, seemingly by dumb luck. Then the dumb luck becomes incredible luck, which becomes “Am I dreaming this?”

Along the way, Brian gains two girlfriends: Steffi, a former TV weather girl with enormous breasts; and Diane, a former top European model.

Chapter 1 has djinni Bashira on the RMS Titanic when it sinks.

Fiction > Fantasy > Contemporary
Fiction > Romance > Fantasy

Tags: alpha male, college life, damsel in distress, djinni, female virgin, female-female, magic, male-female, male dominant, mind control, oral sex, polygamy, romance, straight female to bi, submissive female, threesome, virtue rewarded, wants/wishes, YA, young adult

The novella is 29,600 words.

Now buy it!
Smashwords—your choice of formats

WHAT YOU WANT MOST—First Two Chapters


Chapter 1
Djinni on the Titanic

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story is set in the world of the “Marvin and Fatima” series. If you haven’t read those stories, check out Three More Wishes and its sequels, which are compiled in Wishes, Genies, Sex, and Death: Marvin and Fatima THREE-IN-ONE.


October 10, 1911
Port of Southampton, England

Bashira of the Green Tribe of Djinn was dressed like a rich young human woman, wearing a green-velvet dress to match her green eyes. In her hand, Bashira carried a bulging green-velvet bag.

Bashira stepped out of a horse-drawn cab directly in front of the Southampton offices of White Star Line. A minute later, Bashira was facing a young clerk as she dumped out the contents of her bag: many, many gold sovereigns.

With all those little gold coins, Bashira bought a First Class one-way ticket for the RMS Titanic, which would sail on its maiden voyage in six months. White Star was given many, many gold coins because Bashira not only wanted to travel First Class on the Titanic, Bashira wanted to ride on the Titanic in style.

White Star was paid in gold sovereigns because Bashira easily could magick-up gold coins—as many as she needed, with the coins looking however she wanted. Bashira was a djinni, after all.

But while Bashira was unbothered by magicking up British gold coins, she refused to magically create twenty-pound banknotes. Mainly because each Bank of England-printed banknote had a unique serial number on it, and Bashira had not figured out the serial numbers’ pattern. As unlikely as it was that human police would question Bashira as a suspected counterfeiter, she preferred to avoid the risk.

Humans might detect magically-duplicated banknotes, but they could not spot magically-created coins.

When Bashira, ticket in hand, walked out of the offices of White Star Line, she was smiling in anticipation.

Four months earlier, Bashira had sailed on Titanic’s elder sister, RMS Olympic, on its maiden voyage in 1911. Bashira had enjoyed that trip. So Bashira expected that six months from now, again she would eat great food and would talk to interesting humans. Titanic would be a pleasant diversion for ageless Bashira.


2 a.m. ship’s time
On RMS Titanic, in the North Atlantic

Bashira was deathly afraid.

After the aborted Djinn War in 632 B.C., Bashira had never again felt fear of death. After 632 B.C., Bashira had never again expected to feel fear of death.

Bashira of the Green Tribe of Djinn was a free djinni—meaning, she was not bound to a brass Vessel and was not required to grant wishes to any master. For a free djinni, life was usually great—

All the djinn except for those in Brown Tribe could work powerful magic; all djinn were ageless; and a djinni, being a smoke-bodied shapeshifter, could laugh off injuries that would kill a human.

However, djinn were not immortal. A djinni could freeze to death (as Lodmand of Pink Tribe had learned the hard way). All Tribes believed that if a djinni were immersed in water, even for an instant, that djinni’s smoky body would die. In the days leading up to the angel-prevented Djinn War, Bashira had been terrified that an enemy djinni would water-swap her to the bottom of the Indian Ocean.

But that had been in 632 B.C. In April of 1912, death by freezing or immersion was merely theoretical for all the other djinn in the world—something to joke about. But as Bashira stood at the railing on the tilted Titanic and looked down at black water, as freezing-cold wind blew on her, she felt terror.


Some of the lifeboats that were already launched, were only partly filled. Bashira saw young men climb over the Titanic’s railing and jump off, fall and fall, and disappear beneath the water—If I did that, I’d be dead now. When the young men surfaced, they swam toward the lifeboats. The problem was that the lifeboats had rowed away from the ship, so the swimmers had a long swim.

But most of the humans in the water had no such plan. They hugged themselves and they yelled for help.

A girl in the water, about ten years old, was clearly panicked. She was yelling, but she was also flailing around—which achieved nothing, and would soon get her tired.

Near to Bashira on the tilted Promenade Deck, two young lifebelted Englishmen also had spotted the girl. One of the men said, “Bastards! Why didn’t they put her in a lifeboat?”

The other man said, “If the popinjays won’t put her in a lifeboat, I will.” So saying, he climbed over the railing.

“Roger!” exclaimed his friend. “What are you doing?

Roger replied, “Marcus, I’m dead regardless. But this way, I die like a man.” Then Roger dropped. Splash.

The Titanic’s lights were still on. Soon Bashira saw Roger swim out to the girl (with guidance from Marcus). Roger swam out to the girl, put one arm across her chest, and pulled her toward a lifeboat. Often Bashira saw Roger turn his head sideways and speak to the frightened child.

Once the two of them got near the lifeboat, however, Roger went limp and stopped swimming. But by then, the girl had figured things out. She swam to the lifeboat and was pulled in. Bashira, watching, thought, I’m sure Roger was as frightened as I am. But not once have I thought of trying to save anyone else.


Soon after

Bashira’s hope collapsed. The Titanic’s sinking would not be stopped, much less reversed; the passengers on deck would not be rescued by another human ship; there were more passengers on deck than there were places in the remaining lifeboats. Not to mention, even if Bashira took a seat in a lifeboat, the freezing night air would kill any djinni. Bashira was doomed if she stayed with the Titanic.

Bashira thought, I can’t stay on this ship of corpses one second longer. The fact that by then, Bashira’s feet were literally frozen solid, was a good excuse.

Bashira took off her lifebelt and her magicked fur coat, and wrapped them around a shocked-looking Second Class woman. Then Bashira moved back into the ship, as fast as her frozen feet would allow.

Bashira eventually reached the passageway that would take her to her First Class stateroom—a passageway that was supposed to be level. But now the passageway was tilted, and walking that passageway reminded Bashira of climbing up a sand dune.

Once Bashira reached her stateroom, she went inside and shut the door. Just then, all the electric lights in the stateroom went out, as the ship groaned.

Bashira’s fear spiked then, making her decision even easier. FOOM—Bashira teleported to Cairo.

Once Bashira was in Cairo, she spent the next sixteen minutes standing outside in Cairo’s early-morning sun, thawing her frozen feet. Bashira then stood in the same spot for another twenty-one minutes, because she craved the sun’s warmth. Bashira was still shaking then, but not from cold.


One month later

The sinking of the Titanic had become international news, and many little acts of heroism by ordinary humans had been reported in newspapers.

Bashira, even restricted by Chief Ashnadim’s rule of “Help humans in only subtle ways,” had realized by mid-May of 1912 that she could have given the endangered humans a lot of help on the night of the sinking. But during that night, all Bashira had thought about had been her own danger and her own rescue.

How shameful.

One month after the sinking, Bashira felt ashamed as a coward, and she was humbled that some humans had shown better character in the face of death than she had. Roger the brave Englishman was often in Bashira’s thoughts.


Chapter 2
Brian the Hero

10:30 p.m.
A stormy Friday night in September, 2017
Barrow, Texas (between Dallas and Fort Worth)

Off-duty Pizza King delivery-driver Brian Maslow saw lightning flash, somewhere ahead of his pickup truck.

Eighteen-year-old Brian could not tell exactly where the lightning flashed, because so much rain was hitting his windshield. Even with wipers moving at maximum speed, the view through his windshield was as distorted as if he were looking through shower-door glass.

BOOM! Brian heard thunder to match the just-flashed lightning. C’mon, I’m off work, give me a break, he thought. He had been surrounded by lightning and thunder (and blasting rain), tonight since 8:30. Needless to say, this had made delivering pizza fun. (Not.)

But at least, now he was off work, and the only driving he had to do now was to go home to his apartment. Brian could not wait to change out of his soaking-wet clothes!

Meanwhile, as a result of the blasting rain, Brian’s truck was moving only 10 mph. Fortunately, the storm had scared everyone else off the roads, so Brian did not (much) have to worry about rear-ending the vehicle ahead of him that he could not see.

The wind was shifting constantly. At the moment, it was blowing toward the back and slightly toward the left. Brian’s right-side truck window was getting blasted with rain, while he could actually see out his left-side window—

What was that? Flashing red?

At the moment, Brian was driving west on Richards Street. Richards Street passed over Bentsen Street, which ran north-south, because Bentsen dipped under Richards to make an underpass.

The only problem was, the Bentsen underpass liked to flood during times of heavy rain—like now. And the rain had been blasting for the past two hours.

Did I see a car flooded in the underpass? Brian thought. They might need help.

Brian pulled his truck over to the edge of the Richards overpass, put on his flashers, and shut off the engine. He tossed his keys on the front dash, grabbed his waterproof flashlight, and opened the driver’s-side door.

Brian had to push, to get that door open, because the wind was blowing so hard.

Flash! Pause. BOOM! This was not the time to be outside. Yet Brian would not think of driving another inch until he knew whether someone needed help.

As soon as Brian stepped out of his truck, wind-blown rain blasted his face, hands, and clothing. While Brian was being firehosed by Mother Nature, he walked over to the left-side railing of Richards Street, his waterproof flashlight in his hand. He looked down.

He gasped.

A car set in water that was deep enough to cover the flashing red taillights and part of the rolled-up side windows. Now that Brian was out of his truck, he heard screams from inside the car, and pounding on the car roof.


Bright lightning flashed somewhere close; the answering thunder was instant and it was loud. Brian was frightened—

Fort Worth is to the west, Dallas is to the east, and Death is maybe directly above me.

—but he did not hesitate to run to the end of the Richards Street Bridge and try to rush down the grassy slope to where the floodwater was.

As Brian was working his way down the slope—slanted wet grass made it tricky for him to keep his footing—he heard shrieks. He looked over at the car.

Now the car’s lights were out, and the water around the windows was higher.

Right after Brian stepped into floodwater, another lightning/thunder combo happened to the north.

Brian waded out to the car. The windows were fogged up, so he could not see clearly inside; but someone was sitting in the driver’s seat.

Brian pounded on the roof of the car. “HELLO?”

A hand wiped enough of the fog away from the driver’s-side window that he could see a woman’s face. “We can’t open the doors!” she yelled back.

Brian tried pulling on her door. He couldn’t move it. Water pressure is pushing it closed.

The problem had an unpleasant solution: In order to open the doors, he had to equalize the pressure—which meant letting water inside the car.

Lightning flashed; thunder BOOMed.

“WHO’S IN THE CAR WITH YOU?” Brian yelled.

The driver answered, “I and my daughters are here. Yasmeen is eight years old—please help us!” Now Brian noticed that the woman spoke with a foreign accent.


Brian dunked his waterproof flashlight just under the surface of the water, the flashlight’s narrow side facing the window. He tried slamming the flashlight against the window, but the water would not let the flashlight move that fast.

Brian had to settle for holding the flashlight a few inches away from the window and using both arms’ strength to hurry the flashlight. Even so, it was not till the third hit, when he hit the door glass at an angle, that the glass broke.

The driver-lady shrieked when water poured into her lap. But then she said, “Please help Yasmeen!”

Lightning flashed nearby; thunder boomed loudly. Brian thought, If lightning hits this car or the water it’s sitting in, I’m fried.

Meanwhile, Brian had moved to the back door and tried to open it. At first, this door would not budge, either; but when the water level inside the car was almost as high as the water outside the car, Brian opened the door.

In the back seat were a teen girl and a girl of eight; both girls were black-haired. The little girl was standing crouched on the back seat, to keep her head above water.

Brian put his flashlight on the roof of the car, grabbed the little girl, then—as quickly as chest-high water would allow—Brian carried her toward the grassy slope.

“I’ve got you, Yasmeen. Don’t worry, you’re safe,” he told the child whom he was carrying.

Once Brian set Yasmeen down on the grassy slope, he then rushed—quote, unquote—through the floodwater back to the car. The car’s back door had shut itself , he discovered. By now the water level inside and outside the car were the same; still, it took effort for Brian to pull the driver’s door and the back-seat door open. The driver-woman and the teen girl hurried out of the car. The driver-woman, Brian noted in passing, was wearing a hijab; the teen girl was not.

Brian grabbed his flashlight off the roof of the car, then he waded back to the grassy slope where Yasmeen was. Yasmeen’s mother and Yasmeen’s teen sister each had a painfully strong grip on one of Brian’s arms.

Flash! BOOM! Brian wanted out of this water.

Once the mother and both daughters all were out of the floodwater, Brian offered to drive them to their house in his truck. It was only when the four people walked near Brian’s truck that he discovered that a TV-news crew from station WFAA had filmed most of his rescue.

The TV reporter informed Brian that not only was this area getting wind, rain, thunder, and lightning like crazy, but it was currently also under a tornado warning.

“Wonderful,” Brian replied.


A week later (Friday)

Bashira saw the whole rescue play out on YouTube.

She thought, This human, Brian Maslow, had many reasons to fear for his life. Yet he did the right thing. He is braver than I.

Bashira was also pleased that this Brian Maslow had rescued three immigrants from the United Arab Emirates. Bashira understood very well that many Americans hated anyone Moslem and/or Arab.

Bashira thought, Brian Maslow deserves a reward. But what reward is worthy of his unselfish bravery?

After more thought, Bashira the djinni clapped her hands. “I have the perfect reward for Brian Maslow. Or rather, ten perfect rewards.”


BUY THE BOOK! You know you want to.

Smashwords—your choice of formats

WHAT YOU WANT MOST: MAGICALLY GIVEN: Tweaked Title and Cover, New Sales Blurb

What if a djinni were granting your strongest wishes, but you didn’t know this? What would life be like?

NOTE: This story is set in the same universe as Three More Wishes: Be Kind to Your Genie and Wishes, Genies, Sex, and Death: Marvin and Fatima THREE-IN-ONE.

Bashira is a djinni of the Green Tribe of Djinn, the same Tribe to which genie Fatima belongs. But Bashira is a free djinni, not bound like Fatima—Bashira does not live in a lamp, and Bashira has never granted a wish in her millennia-long life.

A young man, Brian Maslow, rescues a mother and two daughters from a flooded car, during a scary thunderstorm (with blasting rain, high winds, thunder, lightning, and a tornado warning). Brian is frightened of being outside in the nasty weather, but he saves the helpless mother and daughters. Bashira finds out about Brian’s brave deed and decides to reward him.

Bashira doesn’t grant Brian wishes as such; he doesn’t need to rub a lamp or say “I wish…” But ten times, whenever Brian blurts out “I really want such-and-so,” he gets it, seemingly by dumb luck. Then the dumb luck becomes incredible luck, which becomes “Am I dreaming this?”

Along the way, Brian gains two girlfriends: Steffi, a former TV weather girl with enormous breasts; and Diane, a former top European model.

Chapter 1 has djinni Bashira on the RMS Titanic when it sinks.

Fiction > Fantasy > Contemporary
Fiction > Romance > Fantasy

Tags: alpha male, college life, damsel in distress, djinni, female virgin, female-female, magic, male-female, male dominant, mind control, oral sex, polygamy, romance, straight female to bi, submissive female, threesome, virtue rewarded, wants/wishes, YA, young adult

The novella is 29,600 words.

I Visited the Texas A&M Campus

I am a lazy sports fan. When I was in high school, I did not travel to away-games to root for the teams.

After high school, I became a college student at a Texas university that was not Texas A&M. I did not travel to A&M for any academic reason, before I earned my degree. Nor did I ever travel to A&M for any sports reason (but you’ve already figured this out, right?)

After I earned my bachelor’s degree, I never traveled to Texas A&M for any reason—academic, athletic, or business-related.

You guys note a trend?

My latest book, What You Want Most: Magically Given, is a variation on the three-wishes genie story. In What You Want Most, my hero Brian lives in Texas, then he becomes a college student, then he majors in meteorology (the science of weather). A little Google-fu told me that the best meteorology undergraduate-degree program in Texas is at A&M—so voila, Brian drives off to Aggieland to pursue his B.S. in Meteorology.

This plot turn meant that I, as Brian’s author, had to learn a lot about A&M. Fortunately, Google made this part of the story-writing be much easier.

Now, I prefer to have my imaginary people live in imaginary places; this way I can “build” their hometown the way I want. If I want to write about Marvin Harper’s hometown of New Paris, “There was a gold mine just outside of town, so all the streets in the town were paved with gold,” I can do that. Whereas if I write such a thing about Lincoln, Nebraska (because I did not do enough research), a reader who lives in Lincoln will chew me out via email. And deservedly so. To prevent errors that Google-searching doesn’t catch, I need to see a real place for myself if I write about that place.

But there are obvious limits to the rule of “When writing about a real place, see it for yourself.” In “Kristin Tells (Almost) All,” the main character became a student at Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts. Well, I live in Texas, and traveling all the way to Northampton, MA just so I could eyeball places that I had written about, was not a worthwhile expense.

But now that same logic has bitten me in the rear; because Texas A&M is less than two hundred miles from my house. Yesterday I went to Aggieland itself, with a prepared list of questions. Because I had done so much research off-site, I was able to get all my questions answered in only three-and-a-half hours. I also visited places on the A&M campus that I had written about; the “Century Tree” (which is actually 126 years old, not 100 years old) freaked me out.

Still, nobody imagines the author of male-dominant, mind-control soft-core porn novels making a research trip, but that’s what I did. I think I’ve caught most of my mistakes, BUT

If you’re a fan of male-dominant, mind-control soft-core porn, and

You’re a current or former student of Texas A&M University, and

You catch an error about what I wrote about A&M, after my book comes out, then

Please let me know. Thanks.

P.S. Don’t ask me my impressions of Texas A&M. I can’t answer this honestly without somebody’s feelings being hurt.

Now in the Works: WHAT YOU WANT MOST


The first two mind-control stories that I ever wrote, and my two favorites, are Names Have Power and Three More Wishes.

Names Have Power is about a man who is given mind-control powers—except that at first he does not even know he has mind-control powers. At first he thinks that women around him are acting oddly. To me, the fun of writing the story was the question, “When he’s causing changes, but he doesn’t know he’s causing changes, what does he think is going on?”

Three More Wishes is about a young man who gets a wishing lamp and a genie. Except that I did not only tell the genie-master’s tale (in the original story, two sequel stories, and a bonus story)—I also explained how the genies got stuck in those lamps. If you have read Three More Wishes and its sequels, you know that in that world, there are four Tribes’ worth of djinn, most of whom are not genies. Meaning that most of the djinn of the four Tribes are not stuck in a Vessel (a brass lamp, a brass bottle, or a ruby ring) and these free djinn are not compelled to grant wishes.

One such free djinni is Bashira of the Green Tribe of Djinn, who is a friend of Fatima’s. Bashira was briefly mentioned in One More Genie and in More Genie Problems. In What You Want Most, Bashira got a nasty scare in 1912 aboard the RMS Titanic, and since then Bashira appreciates humans who are brave.

Brian is a young man who does a very brave thing: wading into water during a lightning storm to rescue three stranded motorists. Bashira, who has never met Brian, decides to reward him for his bravery.

But Bashira does not reward Brian by granting his wishes—because a person speaks wishes only when he expects that they will be immediately granted. No, Bashira grants his wants—feelings he blurts out not because he expects them to be granted, but because he is feeling the wants so fiercely at the time. And since granting a want is not as powerful a life-changer as granting a wish, Bashira grants ten of Brian’s wants, not just three.

So just like before, I am writing a hero who is changing the women around him—except he does not realize that he is the person changing them.

THE COVER IMAGE: The woman on the cover has dyed-auburn hair, while Bashira of the story has black hair. But other than this one mistake, the woman on the cover is meant to be Bashira. Note the all-green clothing, nail polish, and jewelry; and the bright-green eyes.

My Marvin & Fatima Ebook Is Almost Here, and It’s Huge!

I’m just one or two days away from uploading Wishes, Genies, Sex, and Death, my compilation of my three “Marvin and Fatima” stories.[*]

I’ve completed the bonus story for the compilation, “Kristin Tells (Mostly) All.” The new story clocks in at fourteen thousand words and nine chapters. The story: Kristin, a young woman formerly in billionaire Marvin’s harem, is interviewed on television; two weeks later, she is kidnapped and held for a five-million-dollar ransom. What does she think about what she sees and hears, when she has no clue that Marvin is a genie-master?

Anyway, back to the compilation. Even I was surprised at how big it’s going to be—

• 4 complete stories
• 8 interior illustrations
• 121 chapters total
• 264 thousand words total

The price for all this will be only one dollar more than Three More Wishes alone.


* To remind you, the three already-published “Marvin and Fatima” stories are—

Three More Wishes: Be Kind to Your Genie
One More Genie
More Genie Problems: Can the Hero Billionaire Hold off Judgment Day?



To remind you, soon I will be coming out with a compilation ebook that will have three genie-related, previously-published novel(la)s in it—

Three More Wishes: Be Kind to Your Genie
One More Genie
More Genie Problems: Can the Hero Billionaire Hold off Judgment Day?

The compilation will also contain a brand-new short story that is set in the MOREverse, “Kristin Tells (Mostly) All.” This blog post is to give you more news about this new story.

Kristin Curry is a former member of Marvin Harper’s harem who now is attending Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts. One day in the Campus Center (a.k.a. student union), Kristin is accidentally outed as a former haremée of “the hero billionaire.” Within a few days, Kristin is interviewed by the college newspaper and she sits down to a national television interview; she also has landed a book deal.

Two weeks after her television interview, Kristin is kidnapped. The kidnapper demands five million dollars from Marvin Harper; else he will kill Kristin. Kristin has good reason to believe that the kidnapper’s threat is real.

If you’ve read the three main stories in the series, you have a good idea how things will play out. (SPOILER ALERT: Good triumphs over Evil.) The fun for me is figuring out how Kristin would interpret what she sees and hears, when she has no clue that her former high-school classmate is a genie-master or that Marvin’s housekeeper Fatima is a genie.

Thank god that Al Gore invented the internet! Fictional Kristin lives at Smith College and attends Smith College, so in the winning-the-lottery unlikely chance that any real-life Smithies read my story, I have to get my facts right. Fortunately, between Google and YouTube, such research is not an impossible task, though I’ve never set foot in the state of Massachusetts.

But folks, appreciate the irony. If you’ve read my books, you know what my opinions about feminism are; and yet I’m trying to accurately portray an elite women’s college, from which Gloria Steinem graduated in 1956.


MARVIN AND FATIMA Cover PictureCover art by Commotion22

As a reminder, this book will be a compilation of my three previous novels about wishes and genies—

Three More Wishes: Be Kind to Your Genie
One More Genie
More Genie Problems: Can the Hero Billionaire Hold off Judgment Day?

Along with those three novels, I also am writing a short story for the compilation, “Kristin Tells (Mostly) All.” Kristin Curry is a freshman at Smith College, the elite private women’s college in Massachusetts. After she is accidentally outed as a former haremée of Marvin Harper’s, she gives an interview to the school newspaper that becomes national news. (I haven’t figured out what happens after that, and right now I’m working on finishing up The Mind-Power Avenger.)

For more information about the individual novels in the compilation, including links to sample chapters, click on the “About Doctor MC, Mad Scientist” tab above.

Doctor MC Answers His THREE MORE WISHES Critics


Cover art and all four interior illustrations by Commotion22

My bestselling story, Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie, has a rating of 3.9 stars out of 5.0 stars, based on thirteen reviews. Ten reviews out of thirteen gave my book either four stars or five stars, nobody gave my book three stars, and three reviewers trashed my book. C’est l’Amazon.

Out of the ten reviewers, the two reviewers who were clearly women (Moonlight Dolphin and Jill Soft) each gave Three More Wishes five stars.

But let’s hear from my three critics, before I answer them—

**ooo [2 stars out of five] Be Kind To Women Instead
By Kindle Customer “Gene” on December 25, 2014

a good teenage male fantasy which is good for the male ego but will turn women off as it treats them as sex objects and the hero uses the powers to make them have sex with him and control their minds as he makes them do things they wouldn’t want to do. He then sets himself up as judge and jury over women’s lives. God is mentioned here but it seems like God would’ve disapproved of this mistreatment of half the human race.

*oooo [1 star out of five] Horrible
By JoshuaJustin on March 11, 2015

This book is bad, really bad. It’s teenage fantasy garbage with no real plot. The whole book seems like it was written by a virgin that watches too much porn. The characters are empty and unbelievable. Horrible fantasy, horrible erotica. Oh and the author keeps breaking the fourth wall and it’s obnoxious. I have nothing good to say about this book.

*oooo [1 star out of five] Creepy
By Jason76 on May 12, 2015

Before I read this book, I read one of the reviews that basically wondered whether this author has ever had sex before. At the time, I thought that reviewer was being overly harsh, now I’m not so sure. I like a good male fantasy story as much as the next guy, however my fantasy is not to have sex with women after I’ve taken away their free will. This character was basically a walking, talking ruffie [roofie]. Creeped me out.


—So I’m a virgin now? My ex-wife would be very surprised.

It looks like I need to remind people what my “About The Author” blurb says, near the bottom of Three More Wish’s Amazon page:

Doctor MC currently is plotting his 1,632nd scheme to conquer the world. Obviously he has not succeeded yet, but Doctor MC remains optimistic. Doctor MC did manage to replace Bill Clinton’s wife with a robot.

When not trying to rule the world, Doctor MC writes novels featuring male dominance, mind control, and harems, in a magical or science-fiction setting. “Chick Lit” these stories aren’t.

Visit Doctor MC’s blog for information about upcoming novels and stories:

I think what has so upset my three critics is that I make no attempt to write for anyone other than myself. Mind control has always interested me, as far back as elementary school. So now, I write erotic stories that have mind control in them.

Neither do I write to hit a particular audience. If there is one thing that all the how-to-write-fiction books agree on, it is that trying to “write for the market” will only bring a writer heartache. The writers who have made it big—Tom Clancy, Stephen King, J. K. Rowling, Suzanne Collins, etc.—still write the books that they themselves want to read, but it turns out that the rest of us want to read those books too.

The reason that I point out that I don’t write for the market is that the majority of bookbuyers are women. If I were being published by a big Manhattan publisher, my publisher would insist that I pander to a female audience. (For instance, a Manhattan-published version of Three More Wishes would be guaranteed to have a bare-chested Marvin Harper, instead of Fatima the genie, on the cover; and Manhattan’s version of Fatima would never ever, not once, call Marvin “Master.”) But what if I refused to pander to a female audience? Then my Manhattan publisher would rip up my contract and require me to repay my advance.

In the real world, at least a few women buy Three More Wishes and love it as I’ve written it, and this delights me. But I didn’t write this book for a female audience, nor will I revise my story to make it more pleasing to female readers.

My critics take me to task for writing women characters in my fantasy story that real women (or real feminists, at least) loudly object to. My critics’ attitude is considered acceptable, because it is politically correct. Funny, but it’s considered rude and whiny for me, a real man, to object to how men-characters are portrayed in female-written sex-fantasy fiction.

In a notorious fan-fiction story that was published in 1973, James T. Kirk fell in love with Ensign Mary Sue Smith, to the point where he was willing to give up command of the Enterprise in order to give her foot-rubs for the rest of his life. (Never mind that the average man’s career means too much to him for he to even think of giving his career up for love; and that this is doubly true for Captain Kirk.)

My point is that Mary Sue Smith lives on—there is lots of women’s erotica that is published in 2015 that writes about “men” who will give up everything that they are, and everything that they do, in order to give the main (female) character 24/7 foot-rubs and cunnilingus. All the “men” in these stories become, by the end of the story, mere beta-male pussy-whipped wusses, nothing more than the heroines’ gigolo and bodyguard. Ah, but what if a man in these stories is described as an “alpha male”? Then at the end, he’s been turned into a beta-male pussy-whipped wuss who still has great pecs and a six-pack, and to whom less-muscular beta-male wusses still defer. These “alpha males” are reduced to saying, “Me Tarzan, you Jane—is that okay, honey?”

But I didn’t write Marvin as that kind of so-called alpha male. I wrote him as a youth who is magically changed into a man whom other men respect, whom women desire, and who naturally takes charge when a problem arises. Marvin’s magic pheromones are just icing on the cake. As a true alpha male, Marvin does not apologize when he asks for a blowjob, nor does he feel obligated to “return the favor” if a haremée offers Marvin a blowjob; such an attitude makes politically correct people shudder and wring their hands.

Does all this mean that Marvin is a jerk? Not at all—his genie Fatima has given him responsibility for many women’s lives, Marvin takes his responsibilities seriously, and he tries to improve the lives of everyone around him. But he is no woman’s servant.

One thing that my three critics don’t mention, and I must confess that this annoys me, is that Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie is much more than a stroke-story. You’ll find character development, plot, and world-building in my book. Chapter 41 ends with a cliffhanger.

Kindle Customer “Gene” wrote that Marvin goes around deciding how every woman in the story will live her life. Not so; Marvin lives by the motto of “With great power must come great responsibility”; so when he finds himself with power in a woman’s life, he does everything he can to improve that woman’s life. Only a week after Marvin makes his wishes, he becomes famous nationwide as the “hero billionaire,” and he spends the rest of the story living up to that label. However, there are indeed two women in the story for whom Marvin decides “This is how it’s going to be, and this is what you’re going to do”: Paula Sarin and Elvira LeClerc. Paula Sarin is the villain of the story, and tries to evade her punishment at the end; and Elvira is one of two evil twins who tried to frame a woman for drug possession; Marvin gets Elvira and her sister arrested, then posts the twins’ bail.

JoshuaJustin was bothered that Marvin sometimes talks directly to the reader. By the story’s very nature of “I said … I did,” Marvin is telling this story to someone, right? Well, Marvin has the biggest secret on Earth, that he owns a no-shit genie lamp, so to whom would he tell his secret? No friend of Marvin’s can be trusted to know this secret, the temptation is too big, and there are some things about Marvin’s new life that his parents would not want to be told. So by elimination, Marvin tells his story to the reader of his posthumous autobiography, and sometimes Marvin addresses this reader directly. (SPOILER WARNING: Marvin does the same thing in One More Genie, the sequel.)

Finally, what’s the deal on making my villain be a thinly-disguised Sarah Palin? Well, in 2010, when I started writing this story, I asked myself, “About what famous person could it be most believable that they got where they are by a genie’s wish-grant, rather than by hard work and talent?”—Sarah Palin topped the list.

Finally-finally, I’m replying in this blog post to the three reviewers of Three More Wishes who gave me one or two stars out of five on Amazon; but please note: Seven reviewers each gave my book five stars.

Information about ALL OF my books and stories
THREE MORE WISHES for sale as Kindle
THREE MORE WISHES for sale in the Apple iTunes Bookstore
Page Foundry/THREE MORE WISHES for sale as Inktera EPUB
THREE MORE WISHES for sale in the Smashwords Store—your choice of formats