?The bolt of energy hits you square on, flinging you down to the ground. You struggle back up, reaching for your weapon, and realize you must've dropped it back when you got hit. As you stand, your vision wavers a bit, your balance awkward, you feeling...off, somehow. As you step forward to try and get your sword, a wave of naseau washes over you. You don't remember your clothing feeling so tight this morning. You bend over, waiting for it to pass. But it doesn't pass, instead getting worse. You straighten up, looking for the mage who attacked you, to see him over your weapon. Hell, how'll you get it now?

But suddenly you bend over again, wracked by spasms, and suddenly with a loud ripping sound, the sides of your clothing tear open, allowing a mound of flesh to spill out. Your flesh...that can't be yours, can it? You aren't fat, but it looks like you've put on a fair bit of weight since this morning. You pant awkwardly, trying to right yourself, only to rip open the front of your shirt in the process, more of your new gut rolling out. Looking to the mage, it's clear he had something to do with it, but you're not sure what. Your face starts going numb, which dulls the pain you'd feel from the incredible pressure you can tell would be present otherwise, as it starts pushing out. Your canines lengthen and thicken, turning into large tusks as your nose rises, flattens, and juts out. You try to protest, but it comes out as a squealing sound as your ears rotate up and become large and floppy.

Your skin starts turning a pinkish color, bristles growing out of all the exposed skin you can see, as you start to feel your balance slip. Struggling to remain upright, the seat of your pants splits, exposing your pink tail and more skin. Your shoes fall off the next step you take, the feet inside having turned to hooves while you were focused elsewhere. YOu lose your balance on the downstep and smash facefirst into the ground, which results in dizziness. Your hands, splayed in front to catch you, have the nails start to harden and grow, subsuming the tissue back to the wrist into a single merged limb, instead of a useful, manipulative hand.

And then, suddenly, you're done, looking up at the mage again. A wave of fear washes over you, and of dishonor. Realizing that not only has the mage beaten you, leaving the citizens likely exposed to his predations, but he's also turned you into food for them...and possibly for his victory celebration. But your humiliation is not complete yet. A burning feeling from your flank grows, and intensifies. YOu can't see back that way, but you can smell the cooked bacon as the pain increases. You squeal in alarm as the brand forms on your flank, permanently marking you as property.