(Plan A: Story arc 1)
I woke up feeling like I was put through a meat grinder then into a hydraulic press for five minutes. I heard that laughter again and snapped my eyes open, and immediately regretted that decision. A harsh white lamp was pointed at my face, making me squint in the darkness. I tried to see who was behind it but the sound of his voice told me already "welcome back to the living, Plasma boy. I hope your feeling alright, because I've decided that your pretty marefriend's face is too beautiful to ruin with the drugs, so I hope you like your new look, it'll be the last time you'll see your current one"
I looked at him with a mix of shock and gladness, something he seemed to notice, as his smile grew wider. He brought out the last of the syringes and started filling them with the liquid from the other vials. Each time he drew from one another would plunge deep into my leg, the effects were almost instantaneous; my horn recombined itself and earned a serrated edge on one end and sharpened again to an even finer point. I felt something shift in my throat and let out a blood-curdling screech that a banshee would have trouble beating. My legs became slightly longer, my body significantly thinner; almost skeletal, and saw that, even though I looked like I was literally skin and bones all it did was make me a bit harder to hit. Most of my mane fell out and a series of sharp spines grew out in their place. My tail grew longer and lost most of its hair too, becoming a segmented, sharpened spike that would fit more on a dragon, with the same spines growing down its length. My cutie mark was becoming twisted, more surreal, something I never knew could happen; it was changing before my very eyes! The star with plasma being shot out was getting smaller, the plasma line becoming a tendril, connecting to many other types of stars nearby, behind them was a golden sword, halfway down the blade where the tendril first hits it, the color changed to solid obsidian black. I could tell more was happening to me but I was writhing on the floor with my eyes sealed shut, ears laid back at the wracking pain tearing through me. A pool of spittle was forming below my muzzle and I tried to open my eyes to see what was going on, but couldn't. After what seemed like forever, the pain subsided enough that I could stand and look that bucker in the eye and give him a taste of what happened, but before I could, the sounds of explosions came from above and the door leading into the chamber was broken down by various royal guards, which quickly surrounded our captor. Instead of looking scared, he just smiled and said "welcome, lads, I hope you enjoyed your stay, but I really do have to keep to a schedule, but seeing as you're not gonna let me outta here, might as well keep you away from what you were trying to 'rescue', and for both yours and their sakes, I hope they find allies soon! TOMO HIGGA! BANZAI!"
He let loose an odd war cry, pulled out a detonator, pressed the button and the last thing I remember was seeing the guards tackle him before blacking out...
(check back in a couple days for link to sequel to this arc)
(Plan B: Story arc 2)
I woke up feeling like I was put through a meat grinder then into a hydraulic press for five minutes. I heard that laughter again and snapped my eyes open, and immediately regretted that decision. A harsh white lamp was pointed at my face, making me squint in the darkness. I tried to see who was behind it but the sound of his voice told me already "welcome back to the living, Plasma boy. I hope your feeling alright, because I've decided that your pretty marefriend's face is too beautiful to ruin with the drugs, so I hope you like your new look, it'll be the last time you'll see your current one"
I looked at him with a mix of shock and gladness, something he seemed to notice, as his smile grew wider. He brought out the last of the syringes and started filling them with the liquid from the other vials. Each time he drew from one another would plunge deep into my leg, the effects were almost instantaneous; my horn recombined itself and earned a serrated edge on one end and sharpened again to an even finer point. I felt something shift in my throat and let out a blood-curdling screech that a banshee would have trouble beating. My legs became slightly longer, my body significantly thinner; almost skeletal, and saw that, even though I looked like I was literally skin and bones all it did was make me a bit harder to hit. Most of my mane fell out and a series of sharp spines grew out in their place. My tail grew longer and lost most of its hair too, becoming a segmented, sharpened spike that would fit more on a dragon, with the same spines growing down its length. My cutie mark was becoming twisted, more surreal, something I never knew could happen; it was changing before my very eyes! The star with plasma being shot out was getting smaller, the plasma line becoming a tendril, connecting to many other types of stars nearby, behind them was a golden sword, halfway down the blade where the tendril first hits it, the color changed to solid obsidian black. I could tell more was happening to me but I was writhing on the floor with my eyes sealed shut, ears laid back at the wracking pain tearing through me. A pool of spittle was forming below my muzzle and I tried to open my eyes to see what was going on, but couldn't. After what seemed like forever, the pain subsided enough that I could stand and look that bucker in the eye and give him a taste of what happened, but before I could, a flood of messages came in and pushed him out of the way. He picked up about a dozen and put them into a jar, where he shook it up and gave it to me. I eyeballed him for a moment and pulled out one of the cards; I read aloud "time's up, Plasma Stream, I do hope you enjoyed your stay in The Jokers hovel, do give my regards to him for making sure he used what I gave him, and one more thing, it would be best to see what the surface looks like right now"