The first change to Jon were the golden bracelets/shackles that clasped around his wrists. The golden jewelry was inscribed by strange, swirling script. Script that proclaimed that he was a Genie; a slave to magic. A being that was bound to serve and obey any that held the lamp. Jon had never experience dread like this before in his life. For he realized his life was over. Genies could not be freed; once enslaved, they would serve forever. His friends, his family, even his name, were nothing but memories to him.
His shirt then shriveled up into a sleeveless green vest, short and lined by gold tassels. His jeans blossomed into translucent pantaloons. Golden slippers wrapped around his feet. And for a moment, Jon was calm. If this was . . .
A pang struck him, radiating from his chest.
No, no, no, please, no, he thought. But when he looked down, a bra had appeared across his chest, binding and containing newly developed, luscious breasts. Hair receded across his body, leaving his arms, chest, legs, and other places bare, while his blonde hair darkened to a chestnut brown and grew long and curled. His hands and shoulders pulled inward and thinned, his waist transforming to give Jon a nearly impossible hourglass figure. And then his manhood melted away, sucked into his body like water down a drain.
A veil crossed his face and makeup marked his eyes, giving Jon a sultry, exotic gaze. How his Masters would lust for him.
And then everything was done. There was stillness. Jon's body, Jon's clothes had completed their metamorphosis. He, or she, was bound to a lamp of her own creation. She was a Genie now, and for all time. She looked down at her lamp. It had fallen during the change. It seemed brighter now, as if it cast its own light.
Maybe, maybe if Genie could hide her lamp, she could live a normal life. Right? Genie's only served those who held their lamp, and if no one held her lamp, she would be free. That made sense. What Genie did not know is that she had little time, for she was about to be discovered . . .
