Max barked a few more times, thanking the Madame and asking for more. He didn't need words to show his enthusiasm for what was happening to him: the tone of his barks was obvious even to the audience, and his long tail was the perfect semaphore to spell out his appreciation in wide arcs. The sorceress giggled and patted his head, much to the audience's approval.
Standing back from him once more, she began to chant and focus on her wand. The man who'd been given a dog tail used it to help him express his attentiveness, slowing it motion and holding it steady while fixating both eyes squarely on the Madame. Her wand began to glow again, and the audience so his nose begin to glow as well. He felt a warmth on the outside and deep in the inside of his nose, and when the glow faded, he felt a sudden wetness in his nostrils. He wiggled them a bit and breathed in through them. The smells of the circus tent seemed stronger, more specific, and noticeably more interesting.
"You've been missing out on so much of the world around you, haven't you, Max?" she asked hypnotically. "Are you ready to see firsthand why dogs like you are the first to find squirrels, strangers and contraband?"
Max bark and waved his flag again. His wiggling nose started to creak, bend and inch forward. His lips started to thin, his teeth and jaw started to lengthen, and the lower front of his skull started swelling forward to join them. The audience gasped and wrinkled their faces in disgust at the horror-movie-like scene before them. Monica's eyes widened in terror, but she calmed herself down to notice that Max/Damon didn't seem to be in much pain. Instead, he was crossing his eyes curiously as if to watch, keeping his tail alert but not tucked.
Soon his wet, black nose was stationed prominently at upper front of a short snout that was growing longer with each passing second. He soon had both hands wrapped around it, prodding it curiously as it lengthened before him. By the time it had reached its full length, it had grown subtle whiskers and black short black fur, which was spreading into a growth of brown fuzz on his cheeks. Max let go of his muzzle and waved it up high in front of him to sample the air; his glistening nostrils quivered on the end as he did so. Odors were bombarding him from every angle, and he realized he'd never really had a good mental picture for what a dog's sense of smell would actually be like. For now, the data filling his olfactory cavity (and competing for his attention inside it) seemed to provide him with a kind of sensory overlay that might be compared to computer map of the tent and its surroundings: he could detect simultaneously almost everything and everyone that was in here, as well as most of what was outside within a wide radius, but certain segments of the stage and his immediate surroundings were practically begging him to scroll in closer for a more detailed examination. The scents wafting up from the stage were especially complex and beckoned him in for a closer look.
Monica and the rest of the audience saw her boyfriend flop down on his hands and knees and start crawling around the stage, stopping at seemingly random points to sniff at parts of it with the occasional twitch or casual wag of his long fluffy tail. They couldn't see that he was following some of his own footprints, discovering people and animals that had been onstage during previous shows, and constructing a step-by-step mental record of Madame Illusia's idle wanderings across the stage. They simply laughed at the sight of a man who now looked like a dog at both ends and was acting just like one. Monica bit her lip and tensed her joints, unsure of whether she should laugh along with them.