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“Father! Dad!” the voice of Omar came from an ever approaching distance “Dad! You must come see this”.
As the child soon arrived beneath the palm trees where the Genie – now a human – alongside with his wife and friends were resting, nurtured by the palace servants, the latter inquired: “Omar, what is the cause of your ruckus? The midday sun is now at its peak, unforgiving in its hotness, and you shouldn’t be running. You’ll tire yourself out in a matter of moments.” The Genie avoided adding that he was also disturbing everybody else’s calm; the days are hot, hotter than hot as he likes to sing, and people certainly deserve to take a refreshing moment of peace. “Sorry Dad! It’ just that Jafar’s doing this thing…”
At the mention of the former vizier’s name everybody stopped their chattering and turned to Omar, whose eyes had widened in surprise and, possibly, dread of repercussions for reasons he had yet to come to explain to himself. The quickest to speak was non other than Aladdin, the now prince consort of Agrabah, attired in a comfortable yet elegant white suit: “Were you children playing with Jafar again? Omar, how many times do we have to tell you this?” He quickly rose to his feet, ready to sprint wherever the child would indicate. “He is not to be trusted”.
“It’s just…” sweet Omar began, “He looked like he was feeling lonely so Lian and I entered his chambers and tried to cheer him up and then this thing happened and…”.
“Where is your sister?” quickly asked Dalia, concerned for her beloved daughter, “Did you leave her alone with him? What is he doing?”
The Genie and Aladdin couldn’t take the conversation any longer, they immediately started to run towards where Jafar was kept, urging Omar to come along with them, show them what he meant. The poor boy looked buffled and they left Dalia and Jasmine in a state of concerned bewilderment; after all, Jafar was now a jinn, could it be that he so quickly regained his memory? They should have realized this was coming and now Lian was in his hands.
They got to the door of what was previously his study – in a prior life, when he was still a vizier – now turned into a comfortable bird cage for a jinn, adorned with amulets bathed in sacred water (against all evil and magic) and opened the doors. There, their fright turned into confusion; no hellish scenary was waiting for them: Jafar had not taken the girl hostage to demand its freedom, nor did he appear to have remembered anything. He was reclining on the sofa, Lian in his arms, wrapped around his protruding belly. She looked serene: a big smile was adorning her face while her eyelids closed in what appeared to be a calmness that her feisty spirit only occasionally allowed. What was happening?
“I never said it was anything bad” said Omar, who finally arrived to the scene, catching up with the faster adults “I just said I wanted you to come and see it.”
“Omar you are in such a big trouble!”, said the Genie to his son. “What was so important for you to come running and yelling to us like that?!” In the meantime Aladdin ignored them, and started approaching towards the hugging duo now that Jafar finally acknowledged their presence by raising his head and realizing they were there. He stilled for an instant and his eyes became wide with concern, but then Lian’s gentle rubbing of his womb, where his child was laying, getting ready to be born, quieted him and his expression turned from scared to his now usual silent, submissive behavior. That was what remained of the ex-vizier: a shell of a man or, more appropriately maybe, of a jinn. A red ephemeral all powerful being whose memory was lost to an unknown shock, reduced to the semblances of the man he used to be, but deprived of his vigor. Still shackled by a jinn’s oath to its lamp, a slavery represented by his shackles-bracelets, Jafar could not recall a single thing of what transpired between them, nor any part of his life at the palace, as it appeared. His mind was constantly in a blur, where nothing, neither his past or his own self, found significant definition: he was spirited, clumsy, always with his head up above the clouds, or maybe down into the pits of hell, something rather difficult to discern; all they knew is that when they found him in that oasis - bound to a master who rubbed the wrong lamp, a master who clearly had no qualms about abusing the powers of the genie and the genie himself as they apprehended the first moment they met him - the cock that was buried deep into his newly formed female sex (as a result of one of the wishes of the deprived bandit and slave merchant who became Jafar’s owner, as they later learned from the guy himself) was not the only one that had violated him that night. Nor the nights prior to that one. It was a very consisting group of outlaws and even if their leader found difficult sharing the wishes, he certainly proved he had no concerns about passing the jinn around, as if he was a toy. It seemed impossible that Jafar would break from that; after all he was an all-powerful being, the most powerful creature the world had ever seen but as Aladdin later apprehended from his now human friend it doesn’t really matter when you’re bound to serve one master; your powers can even backfire against you. This was the case of Jafar whose powers were used to tame the fire that burned in his soul. To think that the name of the bandit was none other than Ryiad, meaning beautiful, is frankly quite ludicrous. There was nothing appealing about him, nor his appearance (his face was marked with the lack of an eye, probably melted under the hot warmth of the burning iron that was placed on the spot Allah knows by whom, when and for whatever reason that had been covered with bubbles and burn scars; his skin was of an unnatural white color, as it had never seen light before and his body, as big and muscled as it may have been, had nothing of the delicacy and structure that human beings possess: he always looked as if his own skin was ready to burst due to the air in the balloon that was his rage) nor his character: untalkative, grumpy and abusive. When Aladdin and the Genie arrived to the scene – thanks to Carpet – they had done so because in one of his many travels the blue spirited man had heard, alongside with his wife, dear Dalia, of an oasis that appeared and disappeared in the desert not far from Agrabah, according to the will of his master, who had enslaved a jinn to eternal bondage, making him fulfill every single one of his wishes ( a possibility of which Aladdin didn’t know of and didn’t dare to dream of when he was still owner of the lamp) and they immediately thought of Jafar. After all, as the Genie himself had said, there were very few jinns still bound to the materiality of this Earth and even if it wasn’t him, it was worth to have a check: the tales the mariner and his wife had heard were horrendous. They said whoever ventured in the oasis - in search of water, rest or just out of curiosity – was met with a red Giant wo would swallow them in just one bite, or that this red giant would take them to his master, a fierce bandit set to rob them of their every sing possession only to kill them later, thanks to the gang of throat slitters the Giant had provided for him, who would proceed to disembowel and skin them. Dalia and the Genie didn’t ask them what was the relationship between this so called master and the Red giant; they just immediately thought of Jafar and assumed he was up to no good. So they got to the palace and met once again with their old friends, the Sultana, Jasmine, Aladdin’s dear wife, and Aladdin himself, asking for back up. Jasmine was too busy running the kingdom and with taking care of one of Aladdin’s greatest joys: the pregnancy, they were waiting for a child and they were expected to be born in a couple of weeks. He surely couldn’t have asked his queen to venture in this risky situation now, even though he knew how much she hated to be left out. But in the end, Jasmine herself was the one who said that such an impelling risk was not to be taken lightly and needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible and Aladdin left with the Genie and Abu, riding on Carpet, but not before a night of lovemaking and promises to come back. On their arrival though, much like it happened with Omar, they weren’t met with what they were expecting; no terrifying red devil roaming for the desert in search of poor innocents to torture and devour and neither the Royal Vizier in his attire of war, preparing a scheme to take his revenge with his new found companion of evil. The moon was high and its luminousness impeded the stars to appear in the sky as the usual milky way and took the form of faint spots of light throughout the darkness. There were a bunch of men sitting around a fire, some of them were playing cards, others were eating alongside with the ones who were resting. They appeared troubled if not straight up frightened by the couple of friends’arrival and, to be fair, they did literally appear out of the blue and on a magic carpet, so that was understandable. Before either of the parties had enough time to understand what exactly was going on, Aladdin realized that the firstly perceived quietness of the situation wasn’t quietness at all: he could hear muffled screams and sounds of a repressed and frightened cry coming from the caravan the apparently normal men ( they did not appear as devilish companions of a king of bandits, certainly not summoned by an evil Genie; maybe they were outlaws themselves, dirty, dressed with rags and covered in sand) looked to be very careful not to draw too much near to. So of course Aladdin drew near, with the Genie in tow, and as he climbed the pair of stairs that separated the caravan’s insides from the sand of the earth and moved the curtain that made a makeshift door, he immediately felt an odd warmness coming from within. It stank. It was sticky and itchy. It was similar to the sensation Aladdin would feel passing by the brothels of Agrabah (the very few that still existed were now closed by royal decree of the new Sultana, without a lack of problems), it was the condensed air that formed in a closed room where people were having sex. And there they were, the source of the stench: a very unwilling participant overpowered by the strength of the aggressor. Jafar was on the floor, naked in his human form (his skin marred by cuts that were undoubtedly the result of his resistance, marked with countless bites), while tears were copiously flowing down his face. He was desperate, in pain, and kept muttering wretched sounds as well as a single word, repeated over and over: “Master.” “Master.” He didn’t even find in himself the strength to ask the “master” to stop, it appeared (they later found out, when they brought him back with them to the palace, furninshing him with medical treatment, that he wasn’t able to produce a sentence anymore; he just stuttered and mumbled some words he heard other people saying, much like his parrot Iago, of whom there were no traces left), and the cruel man just kept on pounding into the warm channel that was the vagina Ryiad cruelly wasted as a second wish: for Jafar to be morphed into an half man/ half woman creature, in an attempt to satisfy his fantasies of humiliation and submission regarding the almost surely initially defiant being that was all powerful, and his slave as he thought. How ironic that this would happen to the vizier himself, that had such low esteem for women. Probably, if Aladdin had been more cruel, he would have laughed at it, but instead he saw red. He sprinted towards the pair, drew out his knife, something he had taken from the palace cutlery, an object meant to cut into the soft, yielding meat of finely cooked fish, and stabbed the bandit leader in his left shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain. It hadn’t even been that deep of a cut - taking into consideration that the knife didn’t stuck to his flesh once the offense had terminated and fell to the floor almost immediately, barely dirtied with blood – but he emitted a scream as Aladdin had never heard before in his life, something akin to the roar of a wild beast, whose head and eyes turned to look at their aggressor, ready to tear him to pieces. It was then that the Genie intervened, passing through Aladdin, jumping on Ryiad and smashing his head to the wall, bringing about the outlaw’s unconsciousness. It had all happened so fast that the prince consort almost couldn’t make out what had transpired, just like the first time he witnessed a genie appear out of a lamp in his possession. Jafar was still lying naked on the caravan floor, his crying turned into muffled hiccups and sobs, while tears kept streaming on the length of his cheeks, silently. Aladdin could fully see his lower bottom; that was the first time he realized what the vizier had gone through: the male sex had disappeared; in its place, Aladdin was able to make out, in the darkness of the troop (lit only by the faint flame an oil lamp produced, what the former street thief recognized as Jafar’s lamp), a vulva, throughouly abused, bright red and releasing seed, something Aladdin almost immediately stopped looking at - both for decorum and for the incapacity to bear the obscenity and cruelty of the situation- and rushed to the red jinn’s side, cupping his shoulders and trying to assest the state of his shock. He was met with a trembling body, paralyzed by fear and eyes which transmitted indecision between struggling and letting the other party do what they want. He had almost looked like a child, afraid of being punished, and Aladdin wondered if that had been the face Jafar had had on when he was still a boy, prisoner of Shirabad, an experience that surely set out the separation line from what Aladdin became and what Jafar had turned into. Two different paths had laid on the road of destiny- good and evil – for two people who were so similar. “Are you alright?”, he had asked Jafar, immediately thinking that that had been a very stupid question. How could he have been alright? Regardless, Jafar replied or, to be completely correct, tried to give what the two friends believed was an answer. “M-Ma..Master… Master.” Was all he said, all he kept repeating. After a couple of more questions (don’t you recognize us, do you know where you are, what happened to you, where is you parrot) all they were able to get out of him were more tears of confusion, descending from the corner of closed eyelids, as if he was trying to shut out all of the situation. Aladdin noticed that his beard had grown, not consistently, but it paired with the gentle growth of his hair where his ruddy, short curls would delicately encircle his head and face, giving him a look less severe and harsh than the one he had had while he was still vizier to the Sultan. So the ex street thief entangled his fingers in Jafar’s curls, stroking slightly, trying to soothe him, an action that worked. Jafar leaned into the touch (probably the first gentle touch he had experienced in years) and let his head rest over Aladdin’s shoulder, continuing to sob quietly over the soft fabric of the prince’s desert silk clothes. Aladdin hugged him and after draping one arm under his leg and one around the jinn’s back, he raised him, turned to to the Genie and said it was better to get out of the caravan, that whatever was going on with Jafar, he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer in that exact moment. He was met with a distrusting look, as if the once jinn believed Aladdin was letting himself be fooled by the vizier’s tricks, but he wasn’t heartless, and decided it was worth a shot. They left Ryiad in the convoy and ventured out. It turned out that the stories of ruthless, demonic mercenaries ready to slaughter at the service of a man-eating master and its giant were highly exaggerated. The moon was still high, while the lights of the flames had begun to faint and only a few of the forty or so bandits that composed the group were still there: a black old man, with a thick grey moustache, the two bandits who were playing cards and a boy, probably around the age of 12-14, most likely a handyman for the group. The old man turned to look at them, his sharp grey eyes matching with the color of his facial hair, and explained to the pair (now having to deal with a plus one, since none of them were willing to leave Jafar in the hands of any of these people, taking into account that he was still a jinn, as the shackles around his wrists indicated) that the others fled at the first sight of their arrival, scared that the two beings that had come from the night sky, dressed in silk and gold, were angels sent by Allah to punish them for their crimes, while he, as an old man, a thing he liked to point out, had seen it all through his life and knew that the one that now laid next to him, playing by the fire alongside with Abu, was a magic carpet of the Cave of Wonders. He couldn’t have looked more disinterested. “Anyway, I didn’t touch the jinn. Much like these men did not. That’s why, whether you had been angels, demons or humans, we feared no repercussions”. The two men were a couple, from twenty years, and did not seek anyone else’s warmth while the boy was an eunuch, deprived of his genitals by the cruel hands of a man who wanted to keep his pristine, delicate voice as it was, a nightingale whose chant he could exploit. The old man carried on with their story, told them that he and the three people that remained found themselves in Ryiad’s clutches by chance (the first time they learned the abuser’s name), and had nothing to do with his terrible behavior. Yes, they were all thieves, just like Aladdin and Jafar had been, but they were no monsters. When Aladdin inquired what had transpired between Ryiad and the man he was carrying in his arms, whose head was buried between the prince’s neck and chest in an effort to hide himself, the old man gave little information. He said that Riyad had found a lamp, a red genie came out of it and that from that moment on they spent almost all the time in the caravan, with Ryiad obsessing over the being who wouldn’t submit to his commands – something the ruffian was not familiar with – resulting in the bandit’s effort to tame and humiliate him. He had even called out his merry band of bastards and godless brigands to feast upon his booty, once he achieved his goal. “And how did he do that?” inquired Aladdin with a sour tone, words filled with spite and incredulousness. “You saw his body, boy. I heard the wishes; the first, for the jinn to always maintain a human form if he wasn’t asked the opposite, the second you saw yourself: to make him into the weakest creature among humans, and for him to become less than a man, something in between female and male, so Ryiad could fill his womb with his spawn. The third, well, I wouldn’t know what would pass through Ryiad’s mind, though I hope I will never have to deal with that again.” “He still lives”, said the Genie, his voice lacking of any kind of emotion, emptied by the cruelty of the facts he had just learned about. “Then, I shall put this right.” And so he said, took the silver blade that laid next to his feet and got up with some difficulty only to direct himself towards the caravan. They didn’t need to know who would win the fight, nor did they need to meddle into other people’s feuds. They took carpet, they took Abu and with Jafar’s still wrapped in his arms, the lamp safely tucked into the Genie’s purse, they took off. It was not easy explaining to a heavily pregnant Jasmine why her husband had brought back the cause of her family’s pain. It was not easy to explain to his father-in-law, the man whose daughter he had sworn to love and protect, why the source of his kingdom and dinasty’s semi-demise was still in his palace. And the Genie had it no easier with Dalia, although their children looked fascinated by the vizier, who had been granted his old chambers, now deprived of anything Jafar had ever possessed (something Aladdin thought it was cruel since he could imagine what obtaining those things through his hard work meant to Jafar, someone who was born into nothingness, and could imagine just as well what it meant to see those things taken away from him, even if he could not recollect his past), exactly like his eyes lost the vigor of his active mind. It was once things had settled down with the Sultana and his father, to whom Aladdin explained that Jafar didn’t look to be the evil mastermind that he used to be and who also requested for the ex vizier to be at least put under a magic spell so he wouldn’t turn into a jinn and his powers wouldn’t come back, that they sent a doctor to his rooms. Ahmad, that was the name of the physician, a man with a thick brown beard, whose features bore the signs of tiredness - a characteristic Aladdin started to notice pervading the aging men around him – explained to them that Jafar suffered from amnesia (as they suspected) due to a strong trauma and that he would probably need time and constant care to be able to become once again the man that he was. Not a thing Ahmad was sure anyone wanted, but felt like he needed to state anyway, since his relationship with Jafar was that of a doctor and a patient, not an inhabitant of the palace and the draconian ex grand vizier. He also explained to them that the patient suffered from aphasia as well and that he was only able to get him to repeat some words, like hand or apple, that Jafar repeated over and over again, much like a parrot. The physician suggested that someone must read to him something every night and try to get him to repeat at least one sentence – something that had turned out to be extremely difficult, as Aladdin soon learned, since the red jinn now constantly looked outside the window, not even paying attention to whatever was around him as soon a he understood that nobody wanted to harm him - alongside other various excercises for his memory and his speech. “Oh, and there’s something else”, Ahmad said before leaving, almost as if he had forgotten “I don’t know how it is possible, but since much crazier things have happened in the past I have no trouble reporting this one: the vizier appears to be pregnant.” That had made Aladdin choke on his tea and Jasmine drop the glass on the floor, thankfully not anywhere near her bulging belly. Ahmad took his beard between his hands and started to lightly stroke it; “It is true, my Sultana. I have no idea how to proceed on this but I’ll make sure to make some research, through alchemists and doctors, to see what I can learn. I suggest we all proceed very carefully whit him, both whit his mind and his body. It appears as you and your child shan’t be no more the only preoccupation I must focus my energies on”. With that he excused himself and left, leaving a very buffled Sultana and her husband wonder what to do. A man? Pregnant? How could that be possible? That said, the old man had told them that Ryiad’s goal was to “fill” Jafar’s womb, his second wish much like a proof of that.
The months passed quickly, Jasmine gave birth to their first child, a boy, named Yasin and Jafar’s stomach started to slowly expanded as he gently stroked it every day, as if he wanted to coo the child even prior his birth. His look had remained expressionless, though. His eyes as empty as his mind, the excercises doing little for his progress. Aladdin had tried to explain to the unfortunate man what was happening to his body and, quite frankly, he couldn’t tell if Jafar had understood, or even listened at all. “It will be a long way”, the Genie told him one night, after they left Jafar’s chambers (to let him rest) and positioned the amulets to keep the jinn at bay, “And It won’t be easy Aladdin. His soul has been broken and frankly I do not know if trying to make him regain his memory is a good thing, I don’t even know if we can help him get better.” And that’s when his serious demeanor shifted, leaving place to a sad expression, full of sense of guilt. “If only I hadn’t thrown that lamp…”. “If only I didn’t trap him in there”, Aladdin rebuked, feeling the guilt of his actions “It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now I realize I was just excusing the pleasure I felt by secluding someone who hurt me for the rest of his life, not caring what the transformation into a jinn would do to him, or his psyche.” They shared a moment of silence, filled with the same sense of guilt, even though they both knew they weren’t responsible for a heartless bandit’s actions. “You know, I just realized you still don’t have a name”, Aladdin said, once he raised his face to take a look at his friend’s eyes, “What about Ismail? Do you like it?”. A silent, lonely tear fell down the Genie’s face, whose mouth had broken into a smile thanks to Aladdin’s words, not thinking anymore at the pain he had felt being trapped inside of the lamp and the fact that he had bestowed that pain on another person, even enjoyed it, without thinking of the consequences. “Yes, I like it very much.”
And so here they were, awaiting for a man to give birth, unsure of what to do with the prisoner, uncertain if to use his demonic powers (to make him come back to his human form? To enslave him to their will so he could never harm again? They didn’t know), while two children – Ismail and Dalia’s children – were slowly falling in love with the man. Jafar did nothing but smile to them, yet they adored him and he appeared to quite enjoy their company as well. Then, Lian being attached to him shouldn’t have come as a surprise. “Omar, I am waiting for an explanation, young man.”, Ismail scolded his child, who stuttered before trying to make out a sentence, limited by his father’s constant scolding. “It’s the baby” said little Lian, slightly raising her head from Jafar’s stomach, “Jafar felt them for the first time today and he let us too! It’s wonderful, it feels like there is a fish in there!” So he did know about the baby, Aladdin thought. The former thief gave the child and the adult cuddling her a soft smile, “Does the baby feel alright, as well?” he inquired, only to be taken aback by Jafar’s next movement. He took the liberty of gently taking Aladdin’s hand in his, before moving it and placing it to his own belly. The baby kicked and Jafar turned to look into Aladdin’s eyes, something he had never done in the months prior to this day. He was serene. Maybe there was a chance to heal a man deprived of his soul, after all. A connection was still possible. And Aladdin was greatly overjoyed by that. He started stroking Jafar’s womb, much like he had done to his wife during pregnancy, much like he stroked Jafar’s hair to soothe him that fateful, horrific night in which they met again. “I was once like you” the Vizier had told him that day in the desert. Aladdin didn’t know if it was entirely true, but he certainly felt the responsibility of that statement, of Jafar.
When the day came for the red jinn to give birth, it wasn’t without troubles that he delivered his little girl. There were screams, yelling, a little bit of blood and a lot of his tears. But when he was allowed to enter the room, after it had all transpired, Aladdin was happy to see Jafar and his baby, as the first held the latter with all possible tenderness near his face, while tears kept pouring. Tears of joy. The half man/ half woman creature cried and yet managed to curve upwards his lips into a smile, muttering the same, broken with emotion and excitement, word: “Baby… My baby.”