Crushing.

All Sal could feel was the sensation of being crushed.

Making him small… making him so small.

Eliza Willow stood over him, the ritual's effects already starting to tear at Sal's mind, rending all of his magic essence from him. A sadistic grin spread over Eliza's face, and as Sal let a moan escape his mouth, he knew he had lost.

"Like I said," Eliza grinned deviously, "a little bitch."

---

Sal had thought maybe Eliza had made a mistake when he had received a formal duel challenge from her. 

Eliza Willow was the perfect student; reserved, polite, studious. She brought an apple a day for her professors, she had applied to be part of Sinslar’s disciplinary committee, she had stellar grades.

Sal Mykinos couldn't be further from that – he'd always considered himself a middling deviant, languishing in class, fantasizing about being literally anywhere else and one day even possibly having his future familiar do all of his work for him. Sal's efforts had gone largely into hypnotic magic; he enjoyed the way that he could extend his fingertips and impose his will onto tiny animals, then mammals, then even some humans. He had even, without arousing anyone's suspicion, begun to use his illusions to get out of doing homework, either by entrancing his classmates and digging through their notes, or pretending to be someone else. Sometimes, on good days, Sal could change his appearance drastically. He could become an old hermit, or an innocent little boy, or – in the privacy of his own dorm room, the hot girls around school. It wasn't perfect, but Sal was maybe a bit of a pervert; the proportions didn't have to be exact. They just needed to be close enough.

When Sal received the challenge, a shiver went through him. Eliza wasn't normally aggressive, even though she could honestly have taken a familiar the moment their third year had started; she was better than the rest of their class by leagues, so no one even dared challenge her, and was even a few stages along for her application to become a prefect. His thoughts had turned over and over; he was a good mage, but was he that good? No, that couldn't be it. He couldn't help but think Eliza was targeting him specifically out of spite. Was he that bad a student? Was Eliza getting off on the situation? He knew some prim and proper types secretly were real kinksters, and part of him secretly wanted to know exactly what it would be like to be under her foot.

Sal mulled these thoughts over for the next two days, until he finally trudged his way to the dueling grounds. Whether he liked it or not, Sinslar’s Ritual of the Familiar was a binding contract the moment he had enrolled; he wasn’t allowed to turn down a challenge as a third-year. His confidence grew a little more as he thought through his battle plan. Perhaps Eliza would become his familiar, and then he’d be able to pose the star student whatever way he wanted. No more illusion needed!

Yes. Sal thought to himself. He would win the duel. Sal could force Willow to her knees and make her whatever he wanted. 

---

"You can always forfeit," Mykinos taunted, going through spell routines in his head. 

He had decided he was going to give it his all; illusion magic was, after all, an asymmetric approach that even talented mages had trouble countering. Against Willow, Sal had full confidence in his capacity to put up a fair fight.

Eliza Willow said nothing; though one of her eyes was hidden underneath her long bangs, the calm expression across her face seemed so detached, as if she knew she were going to win.

Sal tightened his fists, frowned. What was she playing at?

Eliza moved at frightening speed as the ritual chime rang. Her arms were the aspect of tree limbs, decorated with various toadstools. In an instant they were digging under the earth to strike Sal. The boy weaved, placing an illusion charm on himself: invisibility. He didn't have to fight Eliza if she couldn't find him. In only a few moments, his limbs, body, even his head was completely see-through. The roots went wide by several feet as he stepped out of the way trivially.

"The upstart class head," Sal taunted, using another spell to mask the direction his voice was coming in from. "You really think you can beat a master illusionist?"

A chorus of oohs arose from the spectators in the stands, and Sal grinned. This was his grand plan; breaking his opponent by launching assault after heuristic assault. He knew what The Ritual of the Familiar really was; a demonstration of will. And though he might not be the most skilled at either offensive or defensive magic of the usual kind, he knew he could hide. He could hide for weeks if he wanted, cloaking himself in whatever shape or form was convenient. At that point, even Eliza would have to forfeit.

Moss began to spread across the ritual grounds like a rush of flowing water, and Sal leapt into the air, casting a basic levitation charm. He presumed the moss was some kind of impairing spell – it would do him no good to just stand on it.

“Not going to be enough, Willow!” he cackled. “I can do this all day.”

Eliza lifted her head from her usual reserved look, revealing a single, crazed eye that chilled Sal to his core. 

“Checkmate.”

He felt the air suddenly get knocked out of him. “What-!” 

Eliza twisted her fingers like a vortex, and Sal’s lungs creaked. He coughed and sputtered, and in that brief moment, his invisibility faltered. The crowd watching began to chatter, murmuring, wondering what was going on.

“You– how did you–” he began choking, feeling his muscles seize as oxygen stopped flowing where it needed to go.

Willow stepped closer, towards the center of the ritual circle where Sal was levitating above, until she was right underneath him. With a single raised finger, she pointed at his chest.

“Concentrated levels of mycelium have entered your bronchi,” she murmured, brushing a stray hair loose. “Any basic defensive spell would have prevented it, but you were busy hiding… breathing… running your mouth...”

“You bitch!” Sal choked. His vision began to go… his will fading.

Willow let a corner of her lips turn up, amused. “Hmm. No. You’re going to give in to me. Like a bitch.”

Sal felt his levitation spell fail, and he dropped limply into that suddenly inviting looking moss. In an instant, the moss was threading itself around him, swarming over him like a sentient carpet. Sal struggled against it, but his mental reserves had run dry; it was over.

The Ritual of the Familiar primed itself. Pain lanced through Sal as he felt the spell targeting his mind. He tried displacing himself in a mental shell, hiding where his true soul lay and seeing if the ritual would accept the substitute, but the magic was simply too strong. It overpowered, devoured every decoy he placed in its path, and then descended upon him like a tsunami over a small island.

Sal screamed, even as the moss receded, even as his lungs felt somewhat breathable again. He fell to his knees as his mind began to crack. It was an oppressive coldness seeping through the folds of his brain. He was being crushed, being forced smaller and smaller; he couldn’t hide, couldn’t bring a single illusion up to his fingertips. He couldn’t avert his eyes as Eliza Willow strode forth and loomed from above.

The witch raised her arms, and two sets of magic brambles locked Sal’s wrists in place. "Nowhere to run, Sal."

Sal was feeling the magic sapping heat from his brain; it was beginning to direct his thoughts away, away from his will, pouring directly into the sorcerer in front of him. Anguish swept through him as his spells failed, fading at the edges as layer after layer of his training were tripped from him. He screamed, pleaded, begged through the agony.

“Wait wait wait wait! I– I made a mistake. C-can’t we do a redo?”

Eliza simply raised an eyebrow. “The ritual has begun. Break for me, familiar.”

Sal felt the light beginning to leave his eyes; his sentience! His being! Grief clogged his rapidly beating heart, as the reality of the situation set in. He was becoming a familiar, non-person! He still wanted desperately to make something, anything of him remain. 

"Please please please! Please don't change me don't change me–"

Willow grinned deviously, using the vines to lift him off the ground by his arms like he was some kind of doll, eliciting a cheer from the wizards in the stands.

[Too late.]

He was starting to hear her in his mind even as a dizziness overtook him. He could feel his thoughts being replaced by a hunger… a hunger to obey and listen to those honeyed words. He shook his head, he tried to ignore the way the people outside were reacting to him with applause, but it was all getting to him. He even felt a wetness in his pants that he tried desperately to ignore.

[You’re mine now, you little pervert.]

Sal’s mind froze even as the ritual continued to ravage him.

“P-pervert? I’m not a–”

Eliza gripped Sal with a vicious clawed hand. He let out an unconscious whimper. His physical form shrank a little more… muscles fading. His pride and joy withered. He moaned – why did it feel good? Even as he felt his mind rapidly diminishing, he shook at Eliza’s cruelty; she didn’t care! She didn’t even care that he was losing everything, losing so much so fast… or perhaps, she relished it. 

Terror ran through Sal as he realized: his entire self was being revoked, and Eliza was getting off on it.

[You can’t hide anything from me anymore. I own your mind. I know what you fantasize about. I know all of your sins, all of your cute little stunts you pulled. You just love pretending to be something you’re not, right?]

Sal let out a moan. The world spun. Willow was right. Willow- his Master couldn’t be wrong, could she? He caught himself as that thought hit him– no! He wasn’t giving in so fast! He thought he had more time, more time to act–

A mental wall went up, and before he could even register it, Sal was entirely severed from his magical potential. He let out a final cry of despair as he felt it wither away, tears rolling down his face. Two years of school were gone! All of his hard work– even that was no longer his.

[This power… this is exactly what I need to complete my application to become prefect. I should thank you… after all, you just let me break you, little otter.]

Sa- otter felt confused, even as she cried– though she wasn’t sure why. otter didn’t do that! otter fought hard, otter was strong. otter tried so hard to protest.

“otter not weak–” she stopped speaking, shocked. otter’s voice was so soft now… it was fragile, frail, brittle. Cute. Her Master twisted her fingers, and otter felt her body quake even more. otter was so small now… maybe only three feet tall. An itch like brushfire spread as fur sprouted across otter’s body; soft tissue gathered at her breasts and butt. A short stubby tail was beginning to poke its way out of her spine. otter squeaked as her body began to ache with need, as her nipples began to poke out of her fur.

“Aww, she’s so cute!” Master cooed, in front of the spectators. “I’m not doing anything, by the way. This familiar’s soul was just shaped like this.”

Even as the crowd applauded, otter was aghast. That wasn’t true! otter was being changed! otter was being manipulated! Couldn’t they hear Master’s words? They needed to know the truth! otter began to open her mouth before she realized nothing would come out.

[otter doesn’t talk without permission.] Master ordered sadistically. One of Master’s vines began to tease at otter’s new sensitive parts, and she let out an erotic mewl. 

[otter isn’t a people. otter is a familiar. otter is an it.]

“Nnnnnnn!!!” it tried to say something, anything, but it was like its words just evaded it, just out of reach. It was so hot now– like an unquenchable heat was beginning to collapse all around it. It felt its limbs start to bend, break, reform. it found its hind legs propped up by another set of roots. Useless paws were replacing all of otter’s digits; it couldn’t even physically attempt to cast magic anymore. otter was losing everything! otter squeaked, otter tried to beg with each squeak that came out, for mercy, for any foothold. Please please please!

“Eee! Eee! Eee!” was all otter could muster.

[otter doesn’t walk on two legs without permission.]

A surge of pleasure struck otter, and it nodded readily, even as its mind strained against each order. And whenever it strained, it felt so good.

[say “I belong to you, Master.”]

“I belong to you, Master!” otter squealed, and the roots dug even harder, deeper into its ankles. Even as the pain stabbed all the way through its body, it knew the torment was just another gesture of love from its Master, even if it hated– resented– loved it! The bliss of being humiliated in front of so many people at once started to make it go crosseyed. Its old life began to shatter in its eyes, even as pieces perversely hung on. Everything otter knew was paling in comparison to this wonder– giving up everything to its new Master!

[Show me your dedication, slut.]

slut was released from its vine-like shackles, and dropped to the floor. It trembled. It couldn’t think, it couldn’t even beg. It just moved instinctively, moving to enact kindness upon its Master. 

“Wow… it’s so eager!” Master announced out loud, to the spectators. “It must have just wanted this really badly, huh. I suppose I’ll be nice and let it put on a show, since that’s what it wants, I guess.”

The crowd murmured in agreement, and slut found dozens of eyes watching it as it struggled to paw closer to Master’s cunt. Master was already pulling her pants down for slut, sitting down on a branch-like chair so that slut could serve her better.

“I’m… i’m your slut!!” slut moaned, before it used its otter-like tongue to begin lapping at Master. Master shuddered with lust.

[Tongue higher up, slut. That’s where my clit is.]

slut repositioned its tongue. “NnnnnnnN!” 

At this point slut couldn’t even stop moaning. She couldn’t; it was all too good. But somehow even with every lick, every tremor it got out of Master, it still couldn’t remove an image stuck in its head… it was an image of slut’s old form.

slut licked harder; teased better, trying anxiously to try and block the image from its head. Why was it still there? Slut didn’t like slut’s old body slut didn’t like slut’s old form slut was so much better as a slut!

[Oh, that?]

Another surge of pleasure rocked slut. slut was now feeling nothing but euphoric whenever slut was telepathically told anything. 

[See, I’m a kind magus, otter. I’m not interested in having you forget everything. If I did that, it wouldn’t be fun for both of us anymore.]

otter shut otter’s eyes. otter was starting to feel even more disgraced, degraded. It was so good it was so good! otter gave up otter’s past, offered it to Master to be destroyed once and for all.

[no. otter gets to know how far otter fell. otter used to be an apprentice.]

“NNnnnn!!” otter’s eyes went cross eyed again. otter struggled to banish the memories beginning to flood otter’s mind. Suddenly… otter recalled every piece of homework otter had ever done, every step otter used to take. Vision after vision flashed through otter’s mind and tears leaked out otter’s eyes again.

[otter used to be an illusionist.]

otter squealed again, retracing each spell otter had ever cast with a useless paw. It was far too overwhelming; otter felt itself collapse. It couldn’t even lick anymore. otter felt its limbs being dragged up again by a set of vines, until Master’s fingers were prying at whatever manhood was left on otter.

[otter gave everything up, and became Willow’s familiar.]

Even as otter began to relive the horror that otter knew it had experienced only moments prior, Master’s fingers probed its final bastion, its final holdout. otter’s hips shuddered, and otter squirmed as it felt its tiny little nub of a cock getting squeezed by Master’s finger. otter teetered over the edge of climax.

[otter doesn’t cum unless Master allows it.]

Please please please please, otter begged mentally. It was the only thing left running through otter’s mind voluntarily.

[beg. In front of all of your classmates.]

A slurry of words spilled out of otter’s lips in a fragile little girly voice that itself was too humiliating for it to bear. “Please! Please master! Please please please please please let me cum please let me cum.”

It heard its adorable voice echo through the stands– was its voice being amplified?? otter strained, otter begged, otter squirmed, shook; pledged everything to its master, and every little noise that came out of its mouth could be heard by the audience, even by people walking by. otter loved it. otter wanted everyone to know how strong Master was. 

“Oh dear,” Master spoke innocently. “It’s so needy! Um. Heh. What happens if we say cum, everyone?”

otter shook. 

It felt its hips gyrate as what was left of its manhood spat out a futile load, which splashed all over Master’s delicate hand. otter heard applause rise up from the crowd, but even as it soaked and stewed in the atmosphere, the magic began manipulating otter’s groin. It was trivial now, how easily otter allowed itself to be reshaped into a wet, welcoming slit for Master. Each new fold forcing its way through otter’s hips elicited scream after erotic scream.

[Master’s finger makes otter cum everytime she enters otter.]

Cry. All otter could do was cry. Cry in bliss as the vines tightened and left marks across its fur, as the crowd hollered from the stands, as ecstasy obliterated otter’s resistance each time it was entered. Mind-melting pleasure, like the tide coming in, wake after wake. otter broke, and then again, and then again and over and over and over. otter knew in otter’s heart that otter was once strong… otter was once so strong, but it didn’t matter because every moment otter learned this, otter gave it all up again.

“I’M YOURS MASTER I’M YOURS!!!” otter wailed.

Master sneered. 

“You’re mine.”

---

otter woke up an unknown amount of time afterwards, finding itself in Master’s lap.

Master? It tried to say, but could not make anything come out. Instead a cute squeak emerged from its maw.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Master crooned, petting otter softly. “You may speak.”

otter felt its vocal chords reshaping to allow it to say words again. A bit of excitement. otter was allowed something!

“I… I’m otter…” otter murmured, testing its frail voice. “And… and you’re Master…”

Master smiled softly. “Yes. Yes I am. You may call me Master Willow, or just Master if you prefer.”

otter felt tears come to its eyes again. It remembered something glimmering in the back of its mind. Master sighed, and ran a finger down otter’s spine to comfort it. otter began to sob, and Master allowed it.

“Shhh shhh,” Master soothed. “It’s going to be alright. Master promises. Master will care for you.”

otter nodded, trying to be strong for its master, blinking tears out of its eyes. “Yes M-master.”

Soon it had let the catharsis run its course, and cuddled up to Master for affection.

“You put on such a wonderful show this afternoon,” Master soothed with a finger, rubbing otter’s head, dabbing away otter’s tears. “Giving up your soul so beautifully. I was really impressed with you, you know?”

Any physical touch from Master was enough for otter to squirm in delight, but the end of the sentence did give the familiar pause.

otter cocked its head. “Master? Impressed with me?”

Master nodded.  “Indeed. You had a lot of magic in you, and we made that ritual work very well together. You’re a very very good familiar, and we’re going to make such wonderful magic together. And perhaps, since you suffer so delectably, we can put on a show every once in a while, just like today. But for now…”

Her owner patted otter’s butt, and otter instinctively scampered up to Master’s shoulder. Master stood up from the bench she was sitting on, and turned to face the Sinslar academy disciplinary office.

“I have a prefect exam to ace. And you will help me.” 

Otter felt joy blossom in its heart. It was needed! Its magic was needed! 

“Of course you are needed, otter,” Master spoke strictly, caressing otter as she spoke. “You are loved, and you are cherished. And you will be cherished for the rest of our lives, understand?” otter felt its heart grow large. 

“Yes master!”

Together, they prepared to face the exam.