By this time the sun had set leaving only the shallow glow of the carnival lights to eliminate what’s left of the fairgrounds. You yourself were on the ground filled with confusion and astonishment clutching your stomach, you cloud feel your insides shifting and rearranging themselves into more swine like form you knew you did not have too much time left to stop this but where do you go to find help. You wanted more than anything ells to just go back home to your simple farm and that all this was just a strange nightmare. But you knew your folks they were stubborn farms like you used to be knowing nothing about magic and nothing as to how to reveres this besides your farm was on the other side of town you would be just be a full squealing pig by the time you got there. No someone closer had to do you remember earlier passing by an old gypsy fortune teller you didn’t even bother entering he tent discarding it as another scam but now it seems to be you only hope. You did not know if she was even still around still, or if she could even help you or if she was working for that witch, but as you spent time debating what to do your teeth began to feel strange. It felt like your bottom teeth were being pulled out, as two white and very tusk like protrusion’s now stuck out of your mouth you slapped your hand there and felt that indeed your bottom incisors had begun to curve and enlarged themselves now resembling more like two small pig tusk. You gasped in shock but also found you scream sounding a bit more guttural and inhumane.
There was no time left you had to take the chance with the gypsy while you still can. You forced yourself back on two feet made you way to the other side of the carnival being especially careful not to alert anybody to yourself. You barley made it to the next tent over when you heard a noise, you bolted behind some garbage cans as you saw, that the witch has her people out catching any stray pigs that escaped the tent. Two hulking bodyguard like thugs had roped up a squealing sow and were carting her back into the tent for who knows what. You tried making yourself as quit as possible as you can probable consider yourself bacon if they catch you. But you barley could contain yourself as the curse moved into your hands. You bit you lower lip as your hands felt like they were being run over by a truck your index finger and middle forced themselves together as did you pinky and your ring fingers tried vainly to separate them but a pinching sensation fused the flesh between them. By the time the group of thugs had disappeared back into the lager tent your hands were barley recognizable. Your hands looked like a human version of a cloven hoof they had three sweaty swelling finger like appendages the finger nails on the tips of them had also fused and enlarged thickening that looked more inhumane. You painful wined at the loss of your hands, there’s no way you can do any work with these things now. You were still able to flex them but that won’t last for long. You quickly now tried bolting between tents and canisters but that was until you began feeling the transformation in your feet.