This choice: A young, ugly, green skinned witch that will practice a darker magic • Go Back...Chapter #6A young, ugly, green skinned witch that will pr... by: ScaryBacon   (Originally added by SandySeeker)
Next, the witch walked over and examined Alan. The teenage boy was struggling with all his might against the witch's paralysis spell.
“You think you're quite strong, don't you?” asked the witch with a croaking laugh. “And yet your willpower is insufficient to move even a single finger against my simple little spell. Would you care to learn how to do such things yourself, little boy?”
Alan was unable to do anything but stand frozen in place before the witch.
“I'll take your silence as tacit agreement of my little offer,” grinned the hideous old hag. “But I don't teach 'boy magic.' You saw what I had to do to your father, eh? Your mind is stronger than his and suited to a darker school of rites and rituals. But to join our little sorority, you simply must rid yourself of that... ugh... masculinity.”
The witch now pointed the end of her cane at Alan. A transformation similar to the one Steve had just endured began to sweep through the teenage boy. While Alan's mother and sister watched, still helplessly frozen, Alan's body shrank becoming much shorter, smaller, and younger. But while his father had become an ordinary young girl, something more was happening to Alan.
As his body melted and reshaped itself into the person Alan would have been as a nine-year old girl, several subtle additional changes began to slowly manifest themselves more sharply. Alan's skin began to acquire a sickly, yellowish-green hue. A series of tiny, bumpy warts erupted across his hands and face. His hair became long, stringy, and oily black. His teeth grew sharp, jagged, and stained a grayish brown color. Alan's nose became long and delicately pointed, while his eyebrows thinned and swept themselves upwards into a satanic expression.
Next, Alan's clothes began to transform. His jeans and t-shirt merged together, morphing into the shame of a long, ragged, black dress. His socks became striped tights in alternating bands of green and black. His shoes became plain, black, buckled little girl shoes.
For all practical purposes, Alan now looked like an ordinary nine-year old girl wearing the elaborate makeup and Halloween costume of a witch.
“Very good,” grinned the wrinkled old hag. “You are released from your paralysis now, Alana m'dear.”
“You bitch!” shouted Alan in a squeaky, girlish rage. “Change me and my dad back! We're not going to be your students.”
“So willful,” smiled the witch. “And such passionate rage! Oh, Alana you have the potential to be my greatest student yet.”
“Stop calling me that!” growled Alan. Somehow, he sensed the same hypnosis used against his father was about to be hurled his way. Alan eyed the witch, especially the walking stick she'd been using to cast spell against the family. Perhaps he could dive at her – like a tackle in football – and wrestle the gnarled cane away from the old woman. Would that disarm her? It seemed Alan's only choice.
“You've always been an evil, hideously ugly, little witch-girl named Alana...” the witch began to intone.
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