Not wanting to wait a second longer than necessary, No-longer-Greg forces me to take them somewhere I can do my magic. A half hour and way too much walking later, and we’re standing in my laboratory, the only place within walking distance where we can get some privacy. A teleport ability sounds really good right about now.

Now that we’re here, and the big event is about to start, the ex-soldiers' nerves start to act up. They rub their shoulders, shaking slightly.

“You okay?” I ask, worried about my ‘patient’.

They jump at the sound of my voice, forcing a smile onto their face as they try to not fall over. “F-fine! Just p-peachy!”

I frown at their obvious lie. “You sure you want to do this? It’s not reversible.”

Their body stills and their face hardens with determination. “Yes.” They say clearly.

I nod, good answer. “Alright, then… strip.”

Their cheeks instantly begin to heat up. “W-what?” They squeak indignantly.

I smile wickedly. “Well we don’t know what you’ll become, don’t want you to get strangled by your shirt, right?” I ask, content to get my revenge on them for all the teasing they did earlier.

While they nod, they don’t seem to totally agree. “T-that makes sense.” They turn around and start pulling off their clothes like they became unbearably hot.

Their back is still turned, I take my chance to activate ‘corrupt’ and tap their shoulder. They scream, whirling around again.

“What was that for?!” They screech, cheeks once again red.

Before I can say anything, something tugs on my heart. Not in an emotional way either, as in a ‘my heart is being physically pulled on’ way. A chill starts to spread in my chest, leeching the heat from my body. Small motes of light start to form in the air between me and not-Greg. The black and white sparkles rapidly increase in number, the line between us becoming more and more defined. Finally, when the string looks almost solid, it flashes with a bright white light. The motes are gone, replaced with a glowing thread.

A dam bursts inside me, and I feel my strength quickly rush out of me. The thread floating between me and my recruit begins to pulse, the rhythm increasing steadily. It doesn’t take long for the strain on me to become too much, and just as I’m worried I’m going to pass out, the string snaps.

I make eye contact with the recipient of my magic. They just stare at me, totally overwhelmed by everything that just happened. Then I start to notice something is… off about them.

They’re glowing. It’s a subtle glimmer that hovers over their skin, almost not noticeable, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Soon their skin is glowing brightly, looking like it's bioluminescent. Not-Greg stumbles back in surprise, tripping over their discarded pants and falling onto their butt with a loud thud. As they hit the ground, the light pulses, blinding me. Like the motes and string before, their body begins to flash rhythmically as well. It picks up speed, becoming more and more intense each flash. Eventually I have to look away, the light too bright for even my enhanced eyes to stand. Even with my eyes blocked, I can feel the magic vibrating the air, the changes going on just in front of me affecting the very space around us.

And then, it just stops. The light flashes once last time, and goes dark. I wait a moment before lowering my hand, just in case there’s one last flash, but one never comes. So, I look at my newest monster.

Sitting on the ground in front of me is a very naked angel. Or at least what looks like an angel, I’m not sure if angels are even a thing on Einmar. Either way, their look is still very distinct, even for an angel, thanks to their pitch black feathers and hair. It makes them look, well it looks evil. Maybe they’re a fallen angel?

My eyes quickly drift over the rest of them, taking in their amazing new body. I try to avoid looking at their… sensitive parts, but they’re quite large, and hard to miss. I try my best.

Everything about them is very… stark. Their hair and feathers are a deep black, but then their skin is a smooth, sun deprived white color. Even though they’ve traded their masculine body in, they haven’t lost any height. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re taller now, not that it makes much of a difference from where I’m looking. They also retained almost all of their muscle mass, their toned abs can attest to that.

The most noticeable thing, and the biggest change, is the radiant smile on their face.

“I… I’m a girl!” Her excited voice is much higher, even the way she’s talking is more feminine.

I grin at the newly minted woman. “Yep, how's it feel?”

Her smile is almost blinding as she answers. “Amazing!” She grabs her boobs excitedly. “Look at these! Tits! And they’re huge!”

I choke back a laugh. “Yep, they… they sure are.” I feel my face flush a little, but thankfully she’s too busy to notice.

She suddenly jumps to her feet, almost falling over due to her new balance. Just before she actually does though, her large wings flap a few times to stabilize her. She grabs one of her wing’s feathers, staring at it in awe.

Stolen novel; please report.

“I have wings?! Am I an angel?” She squeals in joy.

I sputter out a laugh. “You just noticed that?”

She pouts. “I was…” She glances down at her chest, “distracted by other things.”

I can’t take it anymore, I start laughing hysterically. As I laugh, my vision gets a bit fuzzy from lack of air. Eventually I force myself to calm down, since I start to feel my connection to my body weakening. When I finally pull it together, I look up to see her making a cute face at me.

“It wasn’t that funny.” She pouts.

“It totally was.” I reply without hesitation. She starts to look angry, so I try to change the subject. “So, feeling any undying loyalty towards me, maybe a total lack of freewill?” I ask teasingly.

Thankfully she takes the bait and punches me in response. “Hmm… nope.” She assaults me with another grin.

“That’s good.” I say, rubbing my arm. “Well, if you’re done admiring yourself, maybe we should get you clothes?”

She stares at me, mouth agape, and her face turns crimson.

────────────

A boatload of reassurances and one well timed use of shadow cat magic later, and my new angel and I are standing inside a dimly lit room.

The only source of light is from the fire roaring inside a large forge, in front of which stands a hulking, golden, creature.

“What is that?!” The angel squeals, startling the stequilian.

The pangolin person drops their hammer in surprise, setting off a series of crashes and clangs. Once the sounds all die down, the yellowish person turns to face us, an angry glint in their eyes.

“WHO DARES?!” They roar, shaking the wooden beams of the room. Their eyes lock onto mine, and I see the anger lessen as they recognize me. “You?” Their gaze flits to the intruder besides myself. “And someone new? Why are you in my workshop?” They ask irritably.

“I’m sorry I just showed up here.” I apologize. “But I needed some help with my newest demon, her name is…” I blink, looking over at the angel. “Actually I don’t know…”

My angel underling is standing there, staring at Dalla. “That’s an armadillo!” She suddenly squeaks.

Dalla grunts. “Nope, dunno what an armuhdullo is, but I’m not one. I’m a stequillian, name’s Dalla.” The golden scaled person says, offering a stumpy limb to the angel.

The angel stares at the handless limb, confused. “Do I… shake it?”

Dalla laughs. “No, you bump it.” They demonstrate by bumping their other arm against the first.

My underling smiles. “Oh! Fistbump!” She clashes her fist against the scaly lump of the stequillian’s arm. “Nice to meet you, Dalla, I’m…” Her smile drops, and her brows furrow. After a few seconds, her smile returns. “I’m Tilly!”

Dalla’s snout curves with a smile. “Tilly, a nice name.” They turn to face me, the smile vanishing. “Now will you please explain why you’re in my home?”

“Ah… right.” I say sheepishly. “We need clothes for Tilly.” I say, gesturing to my companion. Tilly’s face goes bright red as she remembers her lack of clothing.

Dalla squints at the blushing girl and eventually grunts. “I suppose she does, I forget you squishies need those, so I didn’t even notice. However…” They face me again. “Do you think I can make clothes, just because I’m a blacksmith?” Dalla says, irritation filling their voice.

“Uh… yes?” I say meekly.

Dalla sighs. “Well, I don’t. I make tools, not clothing, so you’re out of luck.” My shoulders slump at their words, I don’t know anyone else in town that could help. Dalla coughs quietly. “You would be, if my friend wasn’t a seamster.” I smile at the stequillian’s words.

“Would they be willing to help us?” I ask nervously. I can only imagine how some villagers see me.

The stequillian flashes a toothy grin. “Pretty sure, thanks to Tilly’s unique body. He loves a challenge.” With a chuckle, Dalla leaves the room, plunging Tilly and me into silence.

Tilly stares at me for a while. “They look like an armadillo though.”

I start uncontrollably giggling.

After I calm down, me and Tilly stand in a comfortable silence. I watch quietly as the woman scans her body, smiling at things she finds. She’s like a kid exploring the woods for the first time.

The door Dalla exited eventually opens again, but instead of the golden stequillian, a purple blur rushes in. I can’t even react before the thing is on Tilly, crawling all over her.

“What is this?!” Tilly squeals.

Before I do anything, the blur leaps from Tilly, and lands in the center of the room. Standing between us is a small salamander, dressed in a tiny tuxedo. Their face is stretched into a wide grin, and they’re staring at Tilly hungrily.

“My apologies…” The creature says in an Elmo voice. “I got overexcited.”

“URIK!” Someone roars outside. The door slams open, revealing Dalla. “I told you to wait!” They snarl.

The salamander steps back in fear. “Uh… right, but…”

The yellowish pangolin stomps up to the tiny person. “No buts! You just jumped all over that girl without asking, didn’t you?”

Urik looks away, their smile somehow full of shame. “...Maybe.”

Dalla lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry Tilly, he gets like this whenever he meets someone with a body type he hasn’t worked with before.”

Tilly just slowly nods, her expression totally lost.

“Yes, right, so.” The salamander says. “I’m Urik, and you’ve never met a Muut before, going off your expression. Nice to meet you.” He does a little bow.

“You too…” Tilly responds.

“May I take your measurements?” Urik says, his voice shaking with excitement.

The angel nods, as if she’s in a trance.

Once again Urik becomes a blur, rushing all over Tilly’s exposed body. I watch in awe as the muut scrambles all over, the sound of a tape measurer snapping creating a soothing rhythm. The whirr of motion lasts about a half hour before Urik finally jumps back to the floor.

“Done!” He exclaims proudly. Tilly falls to the floor, her feathers fluttering as she goes. “I’ll go make these right away! I’ll be back in an hour.” Says the salamander. Before anyone can respond, the purple man dashes out the door.

“Dammit…” Dalla mutters. “Now I have to wait for him to come back before kicking you two out.” They look at the floor bound Tilly. “Let me get some chairs.”

────────────

About a half hour later, the door slams open again.

“I’ve returned!” Urik proclaims.

“Good.” Grunts Dalla.

Tilly glances up from her tea, excitement glittering in her eyes. “Can I see it?”

Urik’s face stays smiling, but his voice becomes offended. “See it? You must wear it!” He rushes over to the angel, carrying a massive bundle of black and white fabric.

Tilly stands up, and Urik once again becomes a blur. In the blink of an eye, Tilly is dressed. The muut conjures a mirror mid-air for the girl. She moves forward, her face marred by anxiety.

She has no reason to be anxious. She looks amazing. Her muscular frame is hugged by a black top that has fishnets instead of sleeves. A black and white skirt flares out at her waist, going halfway down her thigh. The woman’s face becomes radiant as she sees herself in the mirror.

“I look amazing!” She squeals.

“You do…” I say softly.

Urik adjusts his bowtie proudly. “I would hope so, I did make it.”

I turn to face the seamster. “How much do we owe you?” I ask, remembering the concept of commerce for the first time in years.

He shakes his head. “Nothing! I never charge my firsts.” He explains, his voice somehow odd.

“Okay…” I say warily.

“This is all nice and all, but could you all get out of my house now?” Dalla asks, exasperated.