The priest's magic twists and warps your form...

The priest steps a little closer and stares into your eyes, the first time one of your captors has deigned to do so. It's hard to get a sense in this gloom from your position of submission close to the ground, but his angular snout and piercing eyes seem to be twisted into a hungry and sadistic grin.

Your attention is diverted when something long, thick and scaly extending from behind him begins to flick, almost playfully, from side to side. You have the sudden revelation that the large and indistinct pointed shape you had previously noticed and dismissed, dangling pendulously between his legs as he approached, was not his tail- though it does completely dwarf your own 'tail', even once yours meekly springs to full shuddering attention.

"The flesh is ready. Apply the seed-chalk, and we shall-see what resistance his soul puts up-for."

On his command, part of the scattered shuffling you've been hearing mobilises, and within moments your body is being grabbed and squeezed and groped all over by clawed kobold attendants wearing only the most basic loincloths, which hardly serve to preserve modesty. None of them seem to have been so much aroused by your exposure, though all the same, the clearest likeness they share is that the size of each of their organs provokes an uncomfortable assurance of your own relative inadequacy.

As their unusually sticky, powdery digits sample your sensitive flesh, you feel a prickling warmth blossom and spread wherever they make contact- which, as you begin to sense, is more to print than to fondle. The world begins to shift and change in an unusual fashion for the second time today, the flickering phallic formations and drawings around you exaggerating and growing, even becoming more distinct, as though the gloom's hold no longer bars your perception. When you notice that the lean, lizard-jointed legs scampering around you seem to be extending, or their owners at least seeming to become larger and more imposing from your position of captivity and abasement, it slowly dawns on you that these are not changes in your surroundings, but in your own nature.

Your body, you are dimly aware, has gradually begun to scale over. The 'seed-chalk' claw-prints now branded with the anomalous white substance across your shrinking stature are symmetrical and suggestively-placed. Held either side of your waist; grasping each of your wrists and your unfamiliarly-proportioned ankles; pressed down upon your shoulders, and onto your still-round ass cheeks; there is even a claw-print clasping a new addition to your body, an extremity protruding from your lower back which has begun to sway unconsciously from side to side.

As you have felt each of the changes approach, your instincts and inner will seem to be to meet it with openness, compliance, indifference. Perhaps, although dazed and foggy as you're feeling all of a sudden, you do consciously permit it to continue; just a few instants scattered here and there, where you subtly writhe your form and arch your back, letting yourself sink into the moment with a shiver of satiety, surrendering just another little inch of yourself each time the challenge is made.

Y'know. Perhaps.

As the process subsides, leaving you now no taller than any one of your captors- and smaller, in fact, than any of them you now see- the fine threads, now too loose to bind you, slip off, disappearing into some unregarded crack or crevice in the stone. You remain as you were, and examine your own dull claws; peering down a real kobold's snout, which is also yours. Your scales are an oddly emasculating shade of dusty lilac and, for all you can see, everything about what you have become is just a few shades more to the feminine than any kobold you have seen so far.

And speaking of emasculation...

Remaining on all-fours, which with the changes to the bones in your legs is not all that uncomfortable to maintain, you tilt your head down to look beneath yourself. You blink, staring back to see between your girlishly-proportioned hips and shapely (if lizardly) legs, and also get a good look at the smooth scales of your flat chest and slim waist. Puzzlingly, across your lower abdomen are what look like letters, manifesting in a primordial script you cannot comprehend.

Then you notice (or rather notice that you didn't notice) the much- much- smaller fleshy nub now peeking out from the sensitive slit in your otherwise-featureless crotch. Your once-extant pair of testes are now missing- or hidden- entirely.

Staring at these strange sights where once was your own familiar example of man's favourite tool, a thought void of either remorse or esteem can't help but light up in your mind...