You manage to pry the lid open on the lamp, and are disappointed to find it completely empty except for a tiny scroll of paper. Unrolling the scroll, you read aloud, "I owe you one genie."
The lamp immediately begins rocking back and forth. Weird neon colors emanate from the open lid and spout. Exotic smells of sandalwood, mangos, dates, bananas, coconuts, incenses, curries, exotic spices overwhelm your senses. You close your eyes, you feel heady. Your mouth is dry, you lick your lips. Your clothing seems suddenly to be much heavier. It's like you're wearing concrete shirt, pants and shoes. You look down to see that your skin is now glowing neon orange. Your shirt drops slowly through your body and on to the seat of the chair that you're sitting on. You jump up, all your clothing and shoes remain where they were, you pass through, and out of them like a ghost. Even your ring, watch and underwear lay abandoned on the chair and floor. You stare down at your glowing orange naked body. You stare at the slip of paper on the table. It is glowing orange too. Then your cell phone, still in your pocket on the chair begins to ring. You try to reach down to answer it. You're now floating on your belly in mid air, with your hardening cock flopping around. Dang, you're getting off on being helpless? Or maybe it's the floating naked that is getting you hard? Your open hand passes right through your phone, clothing and chair. It's like you're not really there.
"I owe you one genie?" you ask uncertainly. No, it couldn't mean that you are becoming a genie. To whom was owed a genie? When you read it, you thought the slip meant that someone owed you a genie because the lamp was empty. Now you realize that your feet are no longer touching the floor. You struggle to walk, then to run, but you are helplessly flaying in midair as you float higher and higher. When you are completely above the table, you drift over the lamp opening. You hear a whooshing sound, and suddenly, your body impossibly compacts and flows downward into the lamp. You look out of the lamp just as the lid slams shut. A voice booms all around you, out of nowhere, out of everywhere, "YOU ARE NOW THE GENIE OF THE LAMP!"
As the lid clicks into place you feel metal fetters click into place around your wrists and ankles. You are impossibly folded into upon yourself in the tiny cramped quarters of your new home. Hey, wait, you're magic now, right? You wish to leave the lamp. Nothing happens. You wish you were home in bed. Nothing happens. You wish for a sandwich. Nothing happens. A genie with no powers? How could this get any worse.
Hours pass. Maybe days? Suddenly, you feel the lamp being moved. Someone has found you. But who's in your attic? Who could have found you? Will they rub the lamp? Will that free you?