Madame Illusia circled the group and ended up standing behind Dean. "So, boy," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I hear you are full of yourself. Is that true?"
"No!" said Dean. "When I get my hands on him, I'll—"
"You'll nothing," said Madame Illusia. She rubbed his ear with one finger. "Are you SURE it's not true?"
"It's, uh, it's true, ma'am. I am full of myself." The audience started to chuckle.
"Well, boy, there's so much of you to be full of," the old gypsy said, gesturing toward the hunky guy's muscular body. "What if there were less?"
"Huh?"
All of a sudden, Dean felt strange. Stranger than he did when he was forced to walk onstage against his will. His body tingled, then he felt like he was falling, then he was wrapped in a thick fabric.
The audience watched, open-mouthed, as the egotistical lad shrank in front of them. His body disappeared into his clothes and stopped shrinking at one foot tall.
"That's more like it," said Madame Illusia, then she turned to Kurt. "So, is that humiliating enough for you?"
"Yes, ma'am!" said Kurt, practically salivating at the possibilities.