Luke’s heart pounded as Conkers waved his glowing wand through the air, the sickly green light swirling like a storm of malevolent energy. He tried to wriggle free from the ropes, but they held him tight, binding his limbs above the ground. Panic surged through him as he watched the twisted clown grin with malicious glee.
“Please, let me go!” Luke shouted, his voice cracking as fear gripped him. “I don’t want to be part of your show!”
But Conkers only laughed, his high-pitched cackle echoing through the Big Top. “Oh, you’ll be the star, all right! A star of the circus staff!”
The magic struck Luke, enveloping him in a blinding flash of light. The sensation was immediate—his body began to tingle, and then, it shrunk. His arms and legs pulled inward as his height diminished rapidly, bones and muscles seeming to soften and contract at an alarming rate. His toned, athletic frame disappeared, leaving him scrawny and small.
He gasped in shock as his hands and feet tingled, shrinking and becoming delicate. His shoes slipped off his narrowing feet, falling to the ground with a thud as he hovered in midair, leaving his now-bare soles cold and exposed. His toes curled against the sudden coolness of the circus floor, the rough texture of the dirt making him feel even more vulnerable. He wriggled, his movements feeble, as his entire body was overcome by the sensation of losing strength.
“No, no, this can’t be happening!” Luke’s voice, once steady and deep, was now high-pitched and squeaky. He felt his face tightening and softening, his jawline and cheeks becoming round and childlike. His once-alert mind, honed by years of training, struggled to keep up with the changes assaulting him.
His clothes shifted, loosening around him and then vanishing entirely, leaving him in nothing but a pair of overalls—worn, baggy, and too large in some places, yet snug in others. The scratchy fabric rubbed against his skin, making him feel even more exposed. His chest and shoulders had shrunk to fit a child’s proportions, his once-athletic body now that of a scrawny, barefoot 10-year-old boy.
As the light faded, Luke was gently lowered to the ground. He stumbled as his smaller feet hit the dirt, the cool sensation of the gritty earth creeping between his toes. He looked down at himself in disbelief—he barely recognized his own body. His legs were thin and knobby, and his bare feet felt awkward and unsteady beneath him. The overalls hung loosely from his shoulders, their faded denim fabric brushing against his knees as he trembled.
"No! No, this isn't real! This can’t be happening!” Luke’s voice was now a childish whine, filled with a mix of humiliation and disbelief.
Conkers loomed over him, towering like a giant. “Oh, it’s real, all right, kiddo!” the clown sneered, bending down to ruffle Luke’s hair. “Look at you, all tiny and powerless! I bet you can’t even fight off a balloon animal now.”
Luke’s face burned with humiliation. He balled his small fists and glared up at Conkers, tears of frustration stinging his eyes. He wanted to fight back, to transform into the Black Cyber Space Warrior and wipe that smug grin off Conkers’ face. But now, he couldn’t. His body felt weak and unfamiliar, too small to do anything but stand there, helpless.
“I don’t want to be a kid! Change me back!” Luke begged, his voice cracking with a mixture of desperation and anger.
Conkers tapped his chin in mock thought, then let out a wicked laugh. “Oh, I don’t think so, runt. You’re far more useful like this!” He grabbed Luke by the strap of his overalls, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. “Now, how about we give you a job? Something fitting for a scrawny little boy.”
Luke’s heart sank as Conkers tossed him to the ground. He landed hard on his bare feet, stumbling and falling onto his knees in the dirt. The circus floor felt gritty and uncomfortable beneath his hands, and the overwhelming stench of animals filled the air.
Conkers pointed to a row of cages nearby, filled with snarling, monstrous creatures—lions with three heads, grotesque birds with leathery wings, and hulking beasts that oozed slime. “Your job, kid, is to clean the animal cages! Every day, until I decide otherwise.”
Luke’s stomach churned. The thought of being stuck here, regressed and powerless, cleaning up after monstrous animals was unbearable. He scrambled to his feet, trembling with fear and anger. “Please, don’t make me do this!” he pleaded. “I can’t… I’m not supposed to be here!”
Conkers knelt down to Luke’s eye level, his grotesque grin spreading wider. “Aww, does the wittle boy not like his new job? Tough luck, kid. You’re not a powerful warrior anymore. You’re just a helpless, puny little boy. And you’ll do what I say.”
Luke felt the hot sting of shame rise in his chest. His fists clenched at his sides, but he knew there was nothing he could do. His strength, his powers, all of it was gone. He was nothing but a 10-year-old kid now—barefoot, humiliated, and at the mercy of this cruel, twisted clown.
With a flick of his wand, Conkers cast another spell, this time a dark, swirling mist that encircled Luke’s small form. The sensation was immediate—an overwhelming compulsion filled his mind. He tried to resist, but his body moved on its own, stepping toward the first filthy cage.
"Get to work, boy,” Conkers sneered. "And remember, no slacking off. Otherwise, you’ll be cleaning up for the rest of your miserable little life.”
Luke’s vision blurred with tears as he bent down in front of the cage, his tiny hands reaching for a grimy sponge. The dirt beneath his feet felt gritty and cold, a constant reminder of his barefoot state and his utter helplessness. His once-mighty hands now scrubbed the floor of a cage as monsters watched him from the shadows, jeering and laughing.
As he worked, Luke's heart sank deeper into despair. He had faced terrifying monsters, battled powerful enemies, but now, he was nothing more than a helpless child, powerless and humiliated, trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.