You can feel it. The sweet melody of the mouse king is pulling at you. A cloud fills your mind as you struggle to make a plan. You have been a paranormal investigator for a while now, this is hardly your first rodeo, and you have gathered ways of dealing with magical enemies. The problem is thinking of which item to use when your mind is begging you to take off all your clothes and run into the arms of the mouse king. Maybe he could make you his mouse queen! This is it, your last free thought uncorks the vial from your bag and pours it down your throat. A warm tingle runs down your spine, you hope you used the right thing, but you already forgot what you did. Your control wanes, and you step out into the field.
The circle of dancing mouse people welcome you, they are so friendly, so nice, so... familiar. You begin to dance along with them too, trying to match their steps. The mouse king takes notice of you, as you are the only one with all of your clothes on and no mouse features. He bounces over rhythmically. "I can't have one of my subjects looking like this now can I?" He says between flute notes. "Why don't you let yourself go and join the party?" It does sound like a tempting offer, and the other mouse people encourage you with their friendly, buck toothed, smiles. The Mouse King is pleased when whisker dimples appear on your upper lip. He is less pleased when you fall to your knees and scream in pain.
Your face burns as whiskers grow in. Your teeth sharpen and your tongue gets rough. Two pointed ears poke through your hair and the Mouse King steps back, in horror. Your hands against your face sprout rough pads and soft fur. The retractable claws on your hands are perfect for shredding your top and revealing your furry body. Your shoes are torn to shreds as your foot paws grow in, tipped with razor sharp claws. You step out of your pile of ruined clothes and scream: "MMMRRRRREEEEEOOOOOOWWWWWLLLLL!"