(Fate: Grand Order TF, Multiple F to Toys)

“You’re in the way.”

That was all the notice Jeanne D’Arc Alter received before her body began to twist. It started with her neck, which shot away from the black collar of her armor. Her hands flew to it, only to spasm as they too changed.

She could feel everything so vividly, too vividly. Her skin was drying and hardening, taking on a smooth and polished sheen. It was just like the scattered plastic figurines she’d kept a quiet secret. If she would join them, would anyone know?

The thought was one born of desperation, a silent plea to keep her human figure. But given the feeling in her neck; in her arms, she knew it wasn’t to be. With an almost painful slowness, her arms stretched out, skin pulling taut then dragging away from her body to form large, batlike wings. No, not batlike—she should know better than anyone.

After all, she’d once commanded wyverns of her own.

Her spine curved and bent, readjusting so that it could stretch further away from her tailbone. The pale woman’s neck was too stiff to look back, but she could feel it happening. She could feel herself grow a new, long appendage. She could feel every knobbled scale settle in. She could feel how she settled against it, as her legs grew shorter yet more muscular.

“W-why?” She choked out, eyes catching sight of her saintly twin, Jeanne D’Arc. The young woman was similarly afflicted, though it seemed her fate was in a form far more spherical. There was a faint clang of metal against the ground as Jeanne outswelled her armor, but that was all the time Jeanne Alter had to focus on her fellow victim.

Jeanne Alter turned her eyes towards the one who’d cursed her, looking down to the petite frame of one of Avalon la Fae’s knights. Melusine was a dragon bound to a human form, but it seemed she didn’t have an ounce of pity for the wyvern-to-be.

“Why are y-urk.” There was no struggle to retain her speech, the transformation wouldn’t allow it. One second, Jeanne Alter was able to talk. The next, her throat clenched, freezing in plastic. Her mouth hung open, a few drops of drool trailing down a plasticizing chin. Her tongue and jaw stretched out, mimicking a wyvern’s face mid-cry.

Worst of all, her clothes still stubbornly clung to her body. It was like she’d been frozen into a statue of some draconic beast, then someone had mockingly dressed the beast in her old outfit.

She should have savored that remnant of her old life while it lasted.

An invisible vise clenched around her body, twisting, tightening, compressing her down to the smallest she could be. There was nothing she could do to stop it, and soon her frozen body fell down into the tangled fabric that had once fit her so well.

Slender hands fished her from the mess, and Melusine inspected her latest creation. “I already told you why. You’re in the way.” At that point, she might as well have been talking to herself. Jeanne Alter’s brain had long since frozen with the rest of her, trapping her last panicked thoughts forever within a toy wyvern’s head.

Melusine tutted to herself, then dropped the toy beside the stuffed whale she’d made. Now that she looked closer, the plush was better work: it still sported the former saint’s bright blue eyes, stitched into an expression of panic that was completely offset by the goofy grin on its face, and the blonde braid that no beast should have sported.

Melusine didn’t pay them any more heed than that. After all, she was very nearly at her goal. She pushed open the doors to the small suite that she and the other Servants from her Lostbelt had been given, and was greeted immediately by a flash of red hair whirling to face her.

Baobhan Sith was the daughter of Melusine’s queen, Morgan. As such, she would make a perfect example.

“Hey Melu-” The friendly look in the girl’s eyes soon turned to one of panic, as she found she could no longer work the muscles in her face. Slowly, the inquisitive look she had been frozen into shifted to a serene smile, one utterly at odds with her energetic personality.

Baobhan Sith attacked. Despite whatever fear or panic she felt, she was still a Faerie Knight herself. Her right foot flashed out, the stiletto heel of her show aimed squarely at Melusine’s throat. Then, to her surprise, her leg jerked upwards awkwardly, lifting and lifting until it pointed perfectly to the ceiling.

“Not bad. At any other time, you might have even posed a threat,” Melusine smiled serenely. “I think you should take some pride in that, but I won’t allow your mother the same kindness.”

Whatever kindness she’d meant, Baobhan Sith couldn’t find. Her body ached in this pose, and it only grew worse as her back began to arch, pulling her head towards the floor. Almost robotically, her hands lifted above her body, fingertips touching to form a perfect arch.

It was like some sort of ballet dancer’s pose, one meant for a woman with far more flexibility than Baobhan Sith herself possessed. Even as her skin glazed to a glossy ceramic, her every muscle cried out in protest.

There was, of course, a chance that Melusine didn’t know how much it would hurt to be posed like a toy. There was an equal chance that she knew fully well, and delighted in the twisted posture she’d sentenced Baobhan Sith to hold.

“Not bad, not bad… Though I think a tutu might fit you a little better.”

The ceiling seemed to draw further and further from Baobhan Sith’s eyes, and with a brief thrill of horror she realized she was shrinking. She couldn’t even feel it past the ache in her legs and throughout her back. Nor could she see her favorite red clothes lighten to a violent shade of pink, the pastel much too garish for her tasted.

Nobody would know how she’d feel about it, unless they were a mind-reader. The only expression her face was capable of now was a serene and calm smile.

Melusine savored that look, scooping her up and marching straight to their Queen.

Morgan lounged on her throne, casually swirling glass of wine in one hand. She felt a flare of magic and tightened her grip. Then two things happened at once. First, the glass was gone, and without its reassure weight, Morgan felt a flash of concern.

The second was far more problematic. It was a key, an ornate and metal thing that had pressed itself squarely against the small of her spine. She found that she had no control over her body from the neck down, leaving her utterly defenseless against one who had, as of this morning, still been under her command.

“Explain.” Despite her predicament, Morgan still found a way to phrase it as an order.

“Well, I’ve seen the way Master looks at you two, you know? That means that the only way I’m to have any prayer at claiming him, it’s to reduce the competition. Not to worry, you’ll look fine on our mantle. Just like your daughter.” Melusine smile sweetly, lifting the porcelain ballerina in her hands.

Morgan couldn’t reach her staff, but she could cry out to the last of her knights. “Barghest!”

The wall exploded. Amidst the falling masonry was a hulking blonde, over six feet tall with heavy, powerful muscles. She was a veteran of countless battles, and her mismatched eyes glared with anger. Her red eye blazed, while her blue eye was as cold as the fiercest whimper.

To her credit, Barghest made it three steps before her body began to warp. Given how easy it was to change the others, that was in its own way a small miracle. But it was only a small one, and was nowhere near enough.

Her tongue turned to cotton in her mouth, soaking up every bit of moisture like a sponge. It was such an alien feature that her pace faltered, one leg coming down a bit slower than it should have. Then her other leg gave way, sending her spilling onto the ground.

Rather than the hard impact she’d expected, instead she thumped softly onto the floor. Just like her tongue, her bones and muscles had turned to cotton, quick as ice melting to a volcano. This cotton began to multiply within her, and she could feel a tightness assail her as she swelled.

It wasn’t painful, Melusine could spare her fellow knight that much. All the same, it wasn’t pleasant either. Barghest’s toned body, which she’d worked so hard to maintain, was now horrendously soft, to the point of offering comfort rather than security.

Or… Maybe she still offered security, of a different kind? She didn’t know. It was getting harder and harder to think as her brain unraveled into strands of soft thread. She barely even noticed her face slip into a silly, sweet, stitched smile.

Morgan could see it though. She watched in powerless horror as the last of her faithful servants took on an increasingly doll-like appearance, the woman’s naturally fierce visage melting away to a carefree smile. It was utterly unbecoming of a knight… Yet it was perfectly suited for a teddy bear.

Melusine strutted over to her fellow knight, lifting the former woman and inspecting her body as its velvety skin took on a thick coat of blonde fur. She gave her new teddy bear a large hug, shrinking her down from six feet to about one. And with that, another powerful warrior was reduced to nothing but a toy.

This one was some of her best work, she was sure of it. But it wouldn’t be her magnum opus. No, that honor had to go to her liege.

“Is this betrayal because of my husband?” Morgan asked powerlessly. The only bite the woman’s paralyzed body held was in her icy tone, but Melusine would change that soon enough.

“There you go again, calling my lover your husband…” Melusine smirked. “Though maybe it’s fitting. You did bind me to the legend of Lancelot.” She set her teddy bear down gently, strutting up to her former queen.

Morgan tried to track the girl with her eyes, but her head wouldn’t turn to see behind herself. But, to her surprise and horror alike, she could feel Melusine’s hands on the brass key embedded in her back. The smaller girl’s fingers were warm against the metal, sending a small rush of pleasure through Morgan’s immobilized form.

Morgan hated it. The only one who was supposed to make her feel that way was her husband, not a mere knight. She tried to steel her mind, and ignore that tingle deep in her chest that she felt from Melusine petting her new key.

Perhaps that was a mistake, as she might otherwise have felt her organs coalesce into a series of gears. Even if she was trapped, she could have at least used her magic on herself. But instead, she kept trying to ignore the sensations until it was much, much too late.

“So quiet. I would have thought you’d have better last words.” Melusine purred, pressing her palms firmly against the key and giving it a solid turn.

Pure pleasure flooded Morgan’s world, driving all thought form her mind and spilling a shameful squeal from her lips. “WhuhHHHUH!?” She couldn’t even talk, every time she had enough time to barely suck in a lungful of air, Melusine turned the key once more.

Each wind filled her with not only pleasure, but also excitement. Each turn tightened her gears, new springs tensing and aching for the sweet release of motion. “HAAAHhhoow dare…” Morgan couldn’t keep herself from smiling as she talked, nor could she keep a painted blush from settling across her cheeks.

The pressure was building in her waist, and in her elbow. One of her arms snapped to her sides as she stood at attention, heels forcing themselves together with a loud click. Her other arm lifted in a small wave; then pressure began to collect in her elbow.

The rest of Morgan’s body was numb. Or… Rather, immobile. She could still feel, but there was a part of her that knew she couldn’t move. As a result, her mind gravitated to the few parts of her that were still mobile.

“Do you feel that, ‘my queen?’ I hope you can. You’re going to be a marvelous guard for my new castle, and I’ll even let you double as a greeter. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” Melusine stopped winding Morgan’s key, holding it steady, keeping her in an agonizing state of tension.

It was draining at her soul itself, a bit at a time. The longer she stayed in this state, the easier it was to lose herself. Every hope, dream, and love she had was slowly being eroded, replaced with the need to unwind. Instead of wanting to hold onto who she was, she wanted Melusine to let go.

Her treacherous mouth would surely have begged for it, if it was still able to move. But at some point her lips had frozen into an eager, innocent smile. Or had they always been like that? It was so hard for her to feel anything except her need to move just like the good toy she was built to be.

Something about that didn’t seem right, but she wasn’t made to be intelligent. She actually wasn’t made to think at all, was she? If she was made to think, she’d have a name, and she didn’t have one of those. She was just a toy. It was just a toy.

Melusine could feel the woman’s brain dwindle away, like a candle slowly sputtering out its last. Well, no sense in waiting. She let go of the key with a smile, twirling around Morgan’s frozen body to see her handiwork.

The toy could see its owner, though it didn’t think on what it saw. It simply observed, and experienced. Slowly it started to turn at the waist, rotating in place, left to right. Its arm turned at the elbow, as though wiping at the air in an exaggerated wave, left to right. Left to right, left to right.

“Shame, I thought you’d give at least a little more resistance,” Melusine watched as Morgan’s robes tightened around her body. Elegant silks and laces simplified to white cotton trousers and a simple red coat. Her crown swelled to a properly hefty cap, and gloves wrapped their way around her hands.

Only the color of her hair and eyes hinted that she was anything other than a decoration, exactly enough of a reminder for Melusine to beam with pride.

Of course, this was just the beginning. Soon enough, she’d ensure that every woman who’d jockeyed for her lover’s attention would suffer a similar fate. But for now, she had some redecorating to do, and a certain goddess to thank for her newfound power…