Noticing he was able to move again, Damon decided he'd just imagined his bout of supposedly magical paralysis, but he was more furious than relieved. The old witch lady may be a nut, but she still messed up his heist, insulted his friends, and clearly thought she was better than him. This wasn't the first time Damon had failed to escape from a botched robbery--it was time to show the old bat who was boss, just like he always did in such situations. Seeing a glass bottle on a small table next to him, he grabbed it by the neck, shattered the bottom, held the newly made weapon up in the air, and ran across the room toward his would-be victim. She held up the wand again, and immediately he was forced to stop where he was, drop the broken bottle, and stand still like he did before.
"My, my, you are an angry one," she taunted, "All revved up and ready to charge! That gives me an idea."
Damon was stunned when he realized his clothes were gone. He'd tried his hand at pick-pocketing before, but he'd never swiped someone's whole outfit without them noticing! What kind of expert thief was this lady? He was supposed to be the one robbing her! He covered his large, manly privates--certainly not ashamed of them but not exactly ready to show them off right at this moment. He hoped he wasn't about to be sexually violated like his own most unfortunate victims had been.
"There's no need to be modest," the woman with the wand said cheerfully. "You don't have anything I haven't seen before, and going without clothes will be quite ordinary for you from now on." She very slowly began to pace silently around the large, muscular man like a car buyer looking over a used sedan.
Before Damon could make sense of what she was talking about or even say anything about his own nakedness, the wand glowed, and Damon felt very strange in a way he couldn't quite place. He could very distinctly feel something unusual, but he couldn't tell for the life of him exactly what or where it was.
"Ah, yes, you're coming along nicely," announced the self-proclaimed witch from behind him. "You're starting to get into a more appropriate form already."
Before she had even finished speaking, Damon felt a soft, feminine hand around something which sent a shiver up his spine. He whipped his head around to face her and widened his eyes when he saw her holding a long, thick, furry, rope-like object with a rough, brushy tassel of wavy black hair at the end of it. Was he feeling her hand around the furry object? Could it be part of him somehow? He reached out for the thing she was grasping and gasped at the feel of his own strong grip taking hold of it. The witch let go, continuing her slow, circular walk, and the thug was left holding his new tail in his hands staring at it, trying to work out where it came from. Damon tugged on it hard, trying to bring more of it around where he could see it but only managing to produce a loud, bestial moan from his throat when a sharp jolt of pain reached him from an unfamiliar region of his spine. Damon made up his mind right away that he would need to be careful with the sensitive thing he was holding, and he tried very hard not to think too deeply about where he'd heard the same kind of moaning bellow in the past. He looked over at the witch again, gaping at her with a dumbfounded, blank stare. The wand was glowing again! Damon could feel a poking feeling force its way out from the left and right sides of his scalp just before a pair of curved, pointy objects began sneaking into his peripheral vision from both ends. He felt a new weight on his skull and gulped.
"Now you have something much better than that old bottle to charge at your enemies with," said the witch approvingly. "It's going to be so nice to have a brand new bull to sell. It'll first time in quite a few years that I've traded in livestock."
Not at all ready to let go of his new tail just yet, Damon reached up with one hand to the place where he'd felt one of the numb, pointy objects emerge. The slick, plastic-y feel of keratin surprised him. His hand trembled, playing over the thick, curved length which got thinner as he groped further from his head. Struggling to make sense of this new development, the tail was going to have to fend for itself, because he couldn't resist bring his other hand up to help grip and tug at the firmly rooted lances which had emerged from his head. When Damon finally started settling down a little bit, his mind wandered back to the woman's strange comment about having a new bull to sell. He was interrupted by his tail suddenly flinging itself to the side on impulse, which startled him. It hadn't consciously crossed his mind yet that he should be able move it! Damon focused and made it happen again. Mentally connecting the witch's comment with his flexible tail's familiar appearance, he tensed up and snorted as he realized he now understood exactly what was happening to him.