Well, you've got something now, clasped firmly in your hand as you steady yourself. It's a small glass vial, cork stopper, full of some green liquid, all hanging on a cord necklace that's connected to the stopper. Weird. You'd guess this is an accessory of some kind? The label on the vial instructs you to "Drink Me" and, not even really thinking about it, you open up the stopper with a little bit of force and slam the vial back.
....that might've been stupid, honestly. You're sort of wondering why you did that. Ugh, you can even taste it now, something wintergreeny and minty and really fresh and alcoholic tasting. Ptooie! It's...well, sort of gross, you think, but after a moment it doesn't taste too bad.
Your eyes glance down at the costume accessories and costumes on the floor, licking your lips a little to take in more of the taste that both won't leave and you're sort of enjoying now. Acting almost on instinct you scoop up a pile of clothes from the floor, acting with a surprising amount of discernment that you really don't notice. Soon, you're in the dressing room, staring at your new bounty, uncertain of what you did.
Before you lies an outfit, if you could call it that. There's a pair of black shiny short shorts, made of some stretchy and thick material. They look like they'd be small on you. There's a top made of a similar material in the same color, covering the top half of your chest (leaving all of your stomach bare). It also looks like it'd be small on you.
You....fuck. You know you really shouldn't, you know something freaky is going on, but you *really* want to see what you look like in that outfit. Taking the shorts in your hands, you stretch the thick material out a little, as if contemplating before undoing your belt, hiking down your jeans, taking off your shoes and socks and looking down again at the shorts. ....you know they won't fit with your boxers on. So those go off too.
With some effort, you weave your feet through the holes and begin pulling up the tiny shorts, looking and feeling like thick rubber boxers 3 sizes too small. It crunches around your bait and tackle, pushing against them in ways that are both uncomfortable and oddly pleasurable, with the second feeling overtaking the first in short order. With a faint bit of resignation, after all, this wasn't so bad, right?, you take the top and stretch it out, forcing your head and arms through the proper spots. It's tight but it pops *right* onto you, pushing against your oddly hard nipples in a rather nice way, adding to the pleasing sensations down below.
You look at yourself in the mirror. You look ridiculous with the rubber top and those short-shorts. You...you'd probably begin taking it off now if first, you could, and second, you didn't notice how your lips have turned a dark green, as has the skin along your arms and legs, beginning to spread over you like a thousand pinpricks.
You shiver in sensation, paralyzed by the feeling as your skin flushes a rich emerald hue, your hair below your eyebrows flaking off elegantly, the remainder, busy reshaping itself into a bob-cut and bleaching itself bone white with an intense kneading sensation in your scalp that hurts in the way a good massage does. You can't help but both grimace and relax a bit as the tension you were feeling vanishes from your scalp. The kneading travels down your head, focusing on your ears next, beginning to tug and pull them out, teasing and working them, until they stretch out long and pointed. Your now almost glowing purple eyes take in your changing nose and cheeks, smaller for one, more babyfat for the other, reshaped into the face of a rather pretty...green skinned girl with pointy ears?
You're not sure what you're becoming for a few moments, until you feel every bone in your body being shoved together, like someone shoving your spine back into place. The feeling is intensely painful for a good five seconds before a feeling of right and relaxation fills you, which is why it takes you a minute to realize that you're barely scraping 3'10 now and you've lost both weight and stomach girth, your form slender and rather pretty. A heat in your chest heralds the arrival of a pair of small yet noticeable breasts, cute though smaller in proportion than your rich hips which bulge appealingly in your now well fitting shorts. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the outfit now making sense, at least proportionally, though still barely covering you. You also notice that the bulge, so prominent when you were...you, has vanished in the confusion. A trembling check and feel down below both confirms it's gone and that you've got something else in it's place as the reality of what happened just hits you.
"HOLY SHIT?!" You screech in a much higher voice than you're used to, "IMMA GOBLIN?!"