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Holding the small vial of purple liquid in his tiny green hands, Robert—once a towering knight—now barely contained his rage. His once-tight cotton shirt now hung loosely on him, held up only by his new, massive breasts—massive by goblin standards, at least—which felt heavy, unnatural, and made it hard to breathe. His hips, uncomfortably wide, rubbed against each other, and his small green feet, now bare after he had to remove his boots, touched the wooden floor.
— Gaa-rgh! — The sound burst out of him, but it was high-pitched, like an angry mouse.
Standing before him was the mage—the very same one Robert had agreed to help sort through his mess of potions to figure out what was what, for which, of course, he had promised to pay a gold coin. A decent payment for such a trivial task. But never in his worst nightmares had Robert imagined that one of those potions would turn him into a goblin!
— Gaa-rgh! — The same squeaky sound escaped again, unbearable to hear. Robert tried to clear his throat, but his voice remained the same—high-pitched, irritating, almost guttural.
He shuddered, realizing his tongue was shorter, his lips fuller, and his teeth sharper. He tried...