Disarmed

You get your answer in a minute when your arms begin to deflate like two leaky balloons. You gasp, and Albert rushes to your side in a panic. He inspects your arms for puncture wounds but knows deep down that he who lives by magic also dies by magic. And while you are not dying, you feel almost as bad as if you were.

Your arms continue to shrink until they once more look vaguely human. So there you are, an anthropomorphic hippopotamus with grey but apparently human arms hanging from your shoulders like sap trickling down the side of a maple tree. "Come on!" says Albert, tugging you in the direction of home.

"What's the hurry?" you ask. "My arms can't possibly shrivel any further."

Albert shakes his head. "Your arms can't, but the rest of your body can. We have to get you some assistance before you expire."

Written by Joey Liverwurst

Albert makes tracks.

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