Archangel Avacyn drifted above Innistrad, a frown on her face as she beat her wings hard. There was a disturbance in the peace of these lands, something upsetting the natural balance of the woodland by Kessig.

Thankfully, it was a quick disturbance to find. There were a surprising amount of frogs and sheep scurrying from a nearby tavern, and the angel set down nearby.

The first thing she noticed was that the animals seemed wrong. Her sight could tell her far more than that of a lesser creature’s, and upon closer inspection she found them to be human-or at least, formerly so.

It was something of a curiosity to her, and the angel gripped her moonsilver spear as she strode into the tavern. Her armor clattered as she walked, but the door’s frame was too small to fly through; and she had no interest in coming through the ceiling and possibly injuring innocents.

There was a man there, guffawing as he rested his feet upon a bleating woman who seemed to be a cross between a person and a sheep. She sported the wool of the latter, but her face was identifiably of the former despite its dark hide.

The man was dressed in green leather armor atop blue flowing robes, with gauntlets that seemed to be made of a flowing coral. He wasn’t human; not entirely. Rather, he looked as though he sported some elflike characteristics, with a hint of something she couldn’t recognize.

“Oh, you’re just in time! Serving wench, bring me another drink!” He crowed, tossing an empty cup onto the floor.

It took Avacyn a moment to realize he was speaking to her, and a moment longer to determine how to respond. She settled on righteous indignation.

“You seem to be mistaken, mage.” The angel snarled, angling the haft of her weapon so its blade pointed towards the man. “I can tell you are not of this world, just as I can tell that I will do Innistrad no harm by erasing you.”

The man looked to her with mild interest at that. “Well, there’s two things wrong with that. See, I’m not a mage: I’m a polymorphist. Though I doubt you or any of the inbreds around here would know that. Second, you’re implying that you can erase me, even though you can barely hold a spear.”

Avacyn prepared to prove him wrong, when her hands suddenly went limp. The metal of her spear clattered noisily against the wooden floor, and she looked down to it in incredulity. “What? How?”

Instead of responding, he rose from his chair, idly nudging the sheep-woman with his leg to get her to scurry away. The so-called polymorphist looked to her with undisguised interest, eyeing her lecherously.

“Not bad, not bad. I can tell whoever made you has quite the sense of taste. Too bad that you’re one of those holier-than-thou types.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “But all the best ones are.”

Avacyn responded by pounding her wings, launching herself forward and punching him in his smug face.

To his credit, the man remained conscious; though he did have a nasty gash across his cheek from the knuckles of her gauntlet. He wiped at it and glowered, the wound regenerating as he rose to face her.

“You know, you’ll regret that.”

“I very much doubt that.” Avacyn replied cooly. In her free time, she sparred with the Blade of Goldnight and regularly won. Even without her spear, this mage would be little match for her.

Or so she’d thought.

The man raised a hand towards her, and Avacyn braced herself for an attack. Instead of the magical blast she’d expected, all that she felt as a strange lightness to her armor, as though it had vanished from her form.

Surprised, she allowed herself a glance down-only to freeze in shock at the sight of what she was wearing. Her armor had somehow been reformed into a dress befitting of the local tavern wenches, with too many frills for a warrior, and an appalling amount of transparent lace.

Her milky-white thighs were visible to the man, and her vambraces were now little more than nylon. Perhaps worst of all was the fact that her modest breasts were on display now, pushed together by her new clothing.

“I like.” He smiled, waving his hands once more. “But I think we could use some… Improvements.”

Avacyn groaned as her tits and ass began to ache, the strangest sensation of her life gripping them. They were swelling, a fact which she confirmed by holding her breasts in her hands; by feeling the back of her dress lifting from her calves.

Her breasts went from a gentle weight in her hands to a hefty one, and as she pulled her hands away they hung heavily on her chest. She’d never experienced that before; never thought she’d experience that before.

For the first time in her life, the archangel began to feel a good deal of unease, actual worry creasing her features as she took a hesitant step back. Her ample bosom jiggled as she did, and she looked to the man with wide eyes. “W-what are you doing to me? Stop that this instant!”

“Hm? Right, right… I forgot that you still have that appalling sense of justice about you…” He waved his hand dismissively; then snapped his fingers.

It was like a bomb had gone off in her brain, her thoughts scattering as she felt an alien presence within her skull. It was all wrong; there were supposed to be wards to protect her from mind meddling; to keep her safe from that which she could not defeat on her own.

“I… My head, like, feels funny…” She muttered, whimpering at the bubbly sound her voice had taken. “W-what’ve you done? I don’t like this; I don’t like the way I sound!”

“Hm. Marginally more resistance than I would have thought.” The man’s smile grew wider, an anticipatory grin like a demon’s.

Avacyn turned to run, only to trip over her new heels. They were platform shoes, and were thus unfamiliar to the angel who’d been made for protecting Innistrad. She fell heavily onto her huge breasts, her ass raised high in a distinctly undignified manner.

“Oh no!” The angel yelped loudly, her wings sprawled over her back. She turned towards the man and winced as he snapped again, more thoughts flooding her mind that weren’t her own.

Gone were thoughts of using spear and magic to protect the people of Innistrad. Instead, she only knew of how to serve them as an angel bartender; how to entice every customer and ensure that all of her male patrons were fully satisfied after the day… and even to make sure some of the females were similarly sated.

Still, Avacyn retained enough of her old self to know that this wasn’t the way she should be; wasn’t her true self. She whimpered and tried to stand, only to clumsily fall to her hands again. Apparently she was endearingly clumsy now, as well.

“Oh, can’t have you running, can we?” The man chuckled, stalking towards the fallen angel.

Her eyes widened and she rolled onto her back, holding out her hands pleadingly. “Please… No more…” She whimpered, hating how she could only defend herself with words now; not in a proper fashion.

“I really don’t think you have a choice in the matter.” He laughed cruelly, bringing both of his hands to her face.

Avacyn winced; then yelped in a girlish fashion as two blossoms of pain lanced through her face. They were sharp, twin pinpricks against her nose and just under her lower lip. The angel brought her hand up to her face, whimpering as she felt the cool metal of piercings.

“Moonsilver. You like?” The man chuckled. “No way you’ll be getting those out anytime soon.”

Then he snapped a finger by each of Avacyn’s ears.

The white-haired angel wanted to scream as she felt her mind go blank, her old confident personality replaced by something giddy, girlish and abominably bubbly. She couldn’t remember what it was like to fight alongside her sisters; to vanquish demons; to protect the people of the plane.

Instead, all she knew was this bar; the smiles she received during the day and the groans that graced her ears at night. A coquettish giggle slipped from her dark lips as she flicked her wings gently, using them to rise to her feet.

Her platform heels clicked against the wood floor, and she smiled, glancing down to her plump ass to make sure that her dress wasn’t damaged.

Avacyn nodded to herself with a smile; then fluttered her wings anxiously as she looked to the man. “Wow, I’m sorry. I must have like, slipped and fell or something!” She smiled, tucking her dress over her breasts just in case it was showing more cleavage than intended.

He laughed at something that Avacyn didn’t quite get. Still, he was happy which meant that she was happy too.

“So, hiya! I’m Avacyn, and this is my tavern. How can I serve you?” She bowed deeply, silver hair fluttering with the motion, heavy breasts jiggling.

“Name’s Taram Praavi, of the Simic Combine… But I’m sure you don’t need to know that.” He laughed, waving his hand dismissively. “I was just on my way out, as a matter of fact... Unless you can convince me to stay?”

Avacyn smiled impishly at that, folding her arms under her breasts so they stood out. “You know, I think I have a few ideas…”