-0:05:03
Paige Emerson frowns at her date, Jack something or other, as he continues to tell her about his idea for small business involving… Honestly, she isn’t entirely sure. She hasn’t been paying attention for the past five minutes. There such a world of magic around her, and she has to spend time on a meaningless date like this all because Victoria thinks it’s ‘unhealthy’ to spend so much time in the magical library.
“What does she know anyway,” Paige grumbles under her breath.
Jack pauses, midsentence. He looks at her with something approaching surprise. “Sorry, what?”
“Oh,” Paige blushes, “um, oops.” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I’m just feeling a little under the weather.” Surprisingly, that’s not far from the truth. Last night had been spent doing research, and as a result Paige is overtired today.
At least, that’s true as far as she knows. The truth is something far more sinister. When researching transformational plagues, Paige had unwittingly given herself the equivalent of a magical common cold. Blissfully ignorant, the redhead instead bats her eyelashes at him and hopes he understands. Her nose tickles, and she fights back a sneeze. Even if this date’s been a little boring, she doesn’t want to cause a scene.
“Oh, hey, that’s fine,” he replies, motioning to his menu. “You know, this place happens to have some of the most amazing soup you could possibly imagine. No joke, you’ll love it.”
She looks down to her menu, a grave mistake. The motion of her head tingles something in her nose, and instinct takes over. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she crinkles her nose. Frantically, the girl lifts a finger, trying to forestall any questions. “Aaah… Ahhh… AH-”
“What’s-”
“CHOO! ACHOO, ACHOO, ACHOO!” She sneezes loudly, in quick succession. Tears sting at her eyes, and her cheeks burn with the realization that surely everyone in the room has heard her, that they must know that something is wrong.
“-hrrwuff?”
Paige blinks, opening her eyes with the realization that something’s gone awry. She sees that where her date once sat, a small Yorkshire Terrier now wags its tail.
It takes her a long moment to fully process this. A very, very long moment.
0:01:23
It takes Vanessa Thompson even less time. The restaurant’s manager is dutifully doing her rounds, checking up on customer tables. She notices something from the corner of her eye, and a small frown crosses her features.
“Hold up, did I just see what I think I saw?” Vanessa’s face breaks into an easygoing smile, and she walks towards the table. This is a mistake, though not one which any nonmagical being could comprehend.
She doesn’t realize that Paige isn’t fully in control over one of her powers, nor does she realize that the risk of danger to her person is directly proportional to her proximity towards the witch-in-training.
“That was so cool! So, like, is this for some kind of YouTube video or something? Sorry if I’m breaking the fourth wall, I’ve just really always wanted to be famous. You know, center of the show and all that?”
“AH-CHOO!”
Paige’s response is immediate and sudden, as is its effect on Miss Thompson. The manager’s collar bursts into a thick mane of golden fur, one which surrounds her face like a furred halo. Her nose grows larger at the same time, flattening out and taking on a leonine appearance.
“I-I’m sorry,” Paige smiles. “I didn’t mean to…”
She trails off, seeing what she’s done. For a moment, a chill passes down her spine. Then a tingle spreads along her nose.
“ACHOO! AHHHCHOOO! CHOO!”
Each sneeze forces further, disastrous change upon the poor manager. Vanessa yelps as her palms meet the ground. She growls as her face stretches from her body. She bares her stretching fangs, claws emerging from newfound paws.
Her body bursts from her clothing, seams unable to contain growing bulk and fur alike. Her back straightens, shoulders pop, and body loses all trace of the hourglass she’d once sported.
In just a few sneezes, a proud woman has become the leader of a pride.
Little of her mind remains, which is for the best. There are no human thoughts to panic, and a lion by nature is a lazy animal. Her hackles fall, and she decides that the pile of her former clothes makes for a rather good place to nap.
0:01:43
Johnathan Grimes sees all this happen. He turns from the table he’s been waiting with a quirk on his lips akin to a frown. Then he begins to back away, retreating into his shell. His hands lift, imitating surrender.
Ironically, Paige hasn’t noticed him. Instead, she tries to run towards the bathroom.
Said bathroom happens to be behind Johnathan. He sees Paige’s approach as a charge towards him, then looks to what’s become of his manager.
Immediately, he falls into the fetal position.
There is no accurate recollection of what he mutters at this point in time, but it is likely a variation of “ohpleaseandpowerfulgreatonedon-”
At this point, Paige sneezes.
Johnathan is an afterthought. Paige still has not noticed him.
Her magic has.
His skin hardens, starting along his back and continuing to his front. His fingers merge into fins, and his feet do the same. Shoes kick from flippers, which now uselessly slap against the ground.
The panicked motion soon stills, as a laxity overtakes the man’s mind. Scales cover himself, giving him a distinctly reptilian look.
“What’s…” Johnathan manages, before his teeth sink back into his jaw. His eyes move towards the sides of his head, and what remains of his cry becomes a whining hiss.
At this point, Paige notices. She turns, on her way to the bathroom, and sees a sea turtle floundering in a waiter’s clothes. She makes a silent promise to change him back, as she draws even closer to the bathroom.
0:03:23
“When you gotta go, you gotta go. Guess the food here doesn’t agree with her.”
Matthew Larson looks to his boyfriend with a chuckle. “Chill, Brandon. We’re in public, remember?”
Brandon Thomas rolls his eyes. “Seriously, you’re such a mother hen. And we both know we only go to this place for the ambiance.”
“I mean… You have a point,” Matthew smiles, “my mom makes way better stuff than this, you know?”
“Aw, and I bet you’d kill for one of mommy’s sandwiches right now, wouldn’t you?”
“ACHOOO!!! CHAOOO ACHOO ACHHOUGH!”
Marianna Lawson blinks, her breasts straining at the cute top she’d worn when she was younger. Some impulse had drawn her to wear it today, even though the clothing was a bit boyish.
She decides, incorrectly, that she’d dressed this way to attract guys. Not a single thought of her old life as a man occurs to her.
Perhaps her former date would like to reply, were he not preoccupied with his current status as a BLT. The sandwich can’t talk, but he can feel the woman’s matronly hand wrapped about his rye bread.
Teeth nibble into his grains, sinking with ease into the crunch of lettuce and the pulp of the tomato. Even the crispy, salty bacon soon gives way.
In that moment, he realizes that being a sandwich like this is nothing but bliss. It feels good to be savored, and the thought of filling someone is in turn utterly fulfilling.
“Damn, this is about the best sandwich I’ve ever had!” Marianna blushes, and looks down to the food in her hands. She sways her ample hips, and her breasts shake.
Then her eyes roll back into her head, and she falls face-first into the sandwich, snoring softly.
0:05:20
Elena von Kaspar looks the slumbering woman with a small smile on her face, and on the improvised sandwich pillow. She places a magical tag on the pair of transformed men, so that a magical response team can answer the signal she’s placed.
It was lucky she was here, and was a total fluke of chance. The woman happens to be a witch herself, and one of a magical defense league, no less. She knows what to do to in this kind of situation, and what protocols to follow.
Her training and experience buy her an extra minute of time.
Unaware that the bathroom is Paige’s end goal, Elena locks the door before the redhead. She admires the look of confusion on Paige’s face, before deciding to make her presence known.
“A-hem,” she clears her throat loudly, reaching for a badge. “Magic Rapid Response Team, Agent 024. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. We all get these colds, but some of us happen to know better than to go outside.”
“N-no, you don’t get it!” Paige whimpers, covering her nose with her hands. “When I sneeze, bad things happen.”
“Trust me, I’m magically shielded. It’ll be fine.”
For point of reference, this happens to be the reason why Elena von Kaspar is required to take additional magical shielding coursework.
“ACHOO!”
Elena falls limblessly to the ground, her eyes widening as she realizes she’s underestimated this cold—and the witch. Magical illnesses are capable of amplifying a user’s strength. Paige, while weak at most forms of invocation and evocation, happens to have an affinity for transformation.
“Damn,” Elena mutters, hoping that some nearby magic-user can come to her rescue.
More sneezes follow, each literally flattening Elena as though she’s being hit by a hammer press.
Her smooth skin rakes on a wooly, hairy texture. Her arms and legs spread, and her features sink into an Arabic patterning. Hands and feet become tassels, and the woman’s innate magical potential floods her changed form.
The magical carpet hovers slightly, bobbing up and down in place. She retains some sentience, enough to realize that it’s best to pretend she can’t think for herself.
The magical lock on the door fades, and the carpet senses Paige’s hasty exit.
0:06:30
“Ohhh no. Ohnonono, Victoria’s gonna kill me,” Paige whimpers. She looks to her reflection in the bathroom mirror, immediately glad that nobody is around to see her distress.
Or her sore nose.
She pauses, to laugh at herself for a moment, and then she sneezes.
Her nose seems to grow a little redder. She gasps in shock, her juvenile magical training still enough to realize what she’s done. The restaurant’s mirrors are made with a natural silver, and the pure metal acts as a shield against her magic.
In doing so, they’ve reflected the consequences of her sneeze to everything currently in the bathroom—which happens to consist solely of Paige.
The results are immediately apparent. Her hair grows wilder and curlier alike. Her clothes shift with her sneezes. Her power is neither powerful nor precise enough to change a person’s apparel, not on its own. However, in this case…
Her shirt takes on yellow and red stripes. Her pants become baggy. Her shoes grow to fit cartoonishly large feet, and her skin grows naturally pale.
For some reason, the witch-in-training finds this to be hilarious. She giggles louder and harder, and soon finds herself guffawing at her own appearance. “I-haha-look like some kinda clown!” She beams, unable to keep herself from finding humor in every aspect of the world around herself.
An innocent naiveté overtakes the witch, and she leans in towards the mirror, pressing her face so close that her red nose squeaks against it. Her toes curl within her massive shoes, and the girl falls onto her plump butt, giggling and squealing with innocent, delighted laughter.
0:10:01
Victoria Blake arrives on the scene too late to stop any of the changes from happening. Fortunately, there have been no additional transformations for a very simple reason.
“A clown,” Victoria sighs, looking at her transformed friend and apprentice. “Are you serious, Paige?”
“A-hyuk! Paige was, like, my person name! You can call me Pickles. Please, I insist.”
Victoria looks dubiously at the clown, her skin crawling with proximity to the magical anathemae. Just as witches are natural conductors for a magic, clowns are resistors. No matter how ill Paige was, her sneezes now yield a performer’s unique brand of anti-magic.
“Right,” Victoria sighs. She massages her forehead with her index fingers, before looking to the clown again. Even with the nose and makeup, it’s clear that the clown is still Paige.
Victoria knows how difficult it will be to change Paige back. She also knows that since Paige is her friend, it’s her responsibility to make sure she does.
Nonetheless, she also resolves to make sure that she puts a better magical tracker on Paige. A ten minute response time is too long of a leash.