Oh hell, you admit it. You're attracted to this antler-headed god creature. His regal antlers, his lean muscled chest, that cocky grin. You know part of it is your body and the magic, but on some level you know he would be attractive even without that. For god's sake, he's like a wiccan's wet dream come to life, all menacing claws and self-assured handsome charm. And as you admit this to yourself, the musk's power over you lessens, still present but no longer overwhelming. Having stolen so much of his power, you know it was inevitable. Whatever you're becoming, whatever he is, you're cut from the same cloth now. You smile at him, and he bows playfully in return, both of you accepting that you're on equal ground now.
With that come the next wave of changes, and you let them flow freely over you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensations of the change. The magic flows within and around you, caressing every inch of your body like a warm breeze. Your skin changes beneath its touch, still formidable hide becoming tender and plush, a layer of baby fat filling out beneath, softening out your wrinkles and making your skin shine with an alluring warmth. Your face fills out ever so slightly, lips plumping up behind your trunk, turning a deep grey that shines in the moonlight. Your chin shrinks and cheeks plump up, suggesting a life well lived, and the skin at the corner of your eyes wrinkles subtly, crow's feet forming to emphasize the smile that graces your face. Your eyelashes grow and thicken, full beautiful lashes that lend a weight to your gaze and make soft noises only you can hear as you flutter your lashes at the godling standing before you. Your neck softens, adam's apple vanishing completely. The softness flows downward from there, cushioning your shoulders as they narrow with a barely audible groaning, becoming soft and warm, made for tender embraces.
The softness flows down through your arms, which become less bulky, but stay just as powerful beneath. The skin of your hands softens as the proportions of your hands adjust to become more feminine, hooflike nails filling out and polishing themselves to a glossy shine. With a cautious smile, the godling offers a clawed hand to you, and you take it in yours, calmed and quietly delighted by the gesture.
You're pretty sure you know what's next. Your inner magical advisor pauses, waiting for your approval. You give it freely. With that, fat and tissue and beautiful, oh so sensitive nerves begin to grow from your chest, puffing up behind nipples that widen and darken to match, your chest filling with a wonderful warmth as they form. They grow to fill out your frame, large and inviting D-cups rising and falling with your gentle breaths. Your appreciation fills your inner magical helper with pride, its joy making you feel the same in turn. You absentmindedly caress one of them with your trunk, the sensation of curling muscle against soft yielding flesh sending a delightful shiver down your spine, and making your elk companion smile in approval.
The changes rush down further, a strange tightening drawing your waist in on itself. It narrows as if caught in a phantom corset, some of the excess mass gathering around your stomach to create a slight pudgy belly that only makes you more gorgeous in your eyes. Your shift your feet as the changes reach your hips, widening them to make room for changes to come. Your thighs and calves fill out, curves of soft flesh and hidden muscle clearly belonging to a woman in the prime of your life. Your rear joins in, pound after pound of kneadable, plush ass filling out a delightful and jiggly bubble butt, which your elk friend softly caresses with a free hand, tracing his claws delicately over the skin. The ghostly traces of sharp nails drives you wild inside, and makes you giggle with a matronly, feminine voice that you can't deny is the perfect match for your new figure.
All of this leaves only one change left, the main event so to speak. Your inner servant, filled with confidence and pride from your appreciation for their work, is only too happy to oblige. It latches on to your reproductive system from within, caressing the flesh with a brightly glowing magic that shines through the skin. Your shaft sinks down into your skin like a swimmer diving beneath the waves, pulling the sac below with it. They melt away, and leave a smooth canvas for the servant to do their work, only the testicles remaining within. With delicate, artful finesse, your magical servant takes the two spheres and warps or folds or -tilts- them, changing them a manner you don't even have language to describe, turning the last vestiges of your old gender into fully working ovaries with one smooth, inexplicable motion. They drift slightly, then fix in place with a definitive metaphysical click, one that rushes outwards from them, forming a womb and inner passage in their wake as naturally as waves flowing across the surface of the ocean. The wave crests as it hits the skin's surface between your legs, literally blooming into the soft, awaiting folds of a woman full of knowlege and free of youthful inhibition. You sigh sinfully, holding the godling's hand tight in yours, the transformation finally complete. A warm glow washes over your body and soul, and the two of you fall asleep in each others' embrace.