A smoke bomb - with extras

There's a loud bang and suddenly you're surrounded by acrid red smoke. You feel the witch wriggle easily out from under you as you cough and splutter in the noxious fumes. You can't see a thing, your eyes are stinging, and your nose and throat burn with irritant mist.

After flailing around helplessly for a few seconds, you manage to regain some degree of composure and get unsteadily to your feet, staggering back out of the smoke cloud and rubbing your eyes to clear them. The sorceress is leaning against a nearby tree and grinning that taunting grin of hers. Not even trying to run. She's teasing you, the bitch. You tighten your grip on your knife (which, to your credit, you didn't drop in the smoke cloud) and steady yourself, preparing to catch her again - and this time you're not going to leave any room for error.

But what happens next throws a rather large spanner in the works of that notion. You feel an intense, almost painful tightness between your legs, and warmth begins to surge into your groin, causing it to swell and throb with fiery need. Your mind barely has time to compute that there must have been something in the smoke before instinct overrides it and you begin panting hard, your hands sliding down over your clothing almost outside of your control.

And the witch is just standing there, casually slipping a hand inside her trousers like it's nothing at all, and giving you that same fucking grin she's been giving you all this while.

You're not sure which you want more - to kill her, to get her to change you back, or to fuck her senseless.

Actually, wait, you do know which you want more. It's kind of obvious, to be honest.