Dungeon & Dragons & Expansion (BE, TF, MB, FMG)

[SoylentOrange]

The rest of Celia's transformation, with pic!
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With a final choked cry, Celia staggered forward and opened her eyes, the chamber once again dark and silent, the Maag no longer glowing. Hands shaking, Celia reached up towards the circlet, the once-polished metal flaking to rust at the slightest touch. Celia was able to take a single breath as the remnants of the circlet crumbled to the dais, one breath of peace...
And then she was on fire, every sense in her body struggling to announce its pain more prominently than the other. Her body was in revolt, everything feeling like it was trying to flee from everything else. She bent over and grabbed her head in her hands, a fire burning her skin as she grabbed at herself, intensifying at the top of her crown, her fingernails digging in to her scalp and a scream echoing through the chamber as the pain flared up until her scalp literally split apart, rivulets of blood running down her face as She continued screaming. She tried to drop her adventuring pack off her shoulders, twisting her arms behind her to let the hoops fall off her shoulders, but a horrible tearing sensation caused her to fall to the ground behind her, somethng in her backpack apparently catching her forearm and tearing a gash in it. Celia whimpered as she struggled her arms out of her pack's tangled straps, shreiking as she saw her crumpled hand hanging out of the sleeve of her robes. Only, she realized as she tried to bring her hand in front of her, it wasn't her hand. She could still feel her hand, feel the fingers, and it was still somewhere inside the sleeve of her robe, not the thing flopping outside it. With her other hand, she pulled back the sleeve of her robe, seeing an unnatural buldge in the middle of what looked like her forearm. Splaying her fingers out, Ceila whimpered as she felt them break through her false forearm, the sleeve of her skin falling off like a discarded opera glove and revealing the muted gray fingers of a drow.
"Oh Gods.. no, no, oh Gods no..." Celia whimpered as she flexed and clenched her fingers, pulling her sleeve up to try and see how far the corruption had spread but unable to get the many folds of heavy cloth past her elbow. Sobbing, Celia instead grabbed the robe at the shoulder and pulled the seam apart, the sleeve dropping to the ground and revealing her blood-smeared drow skin flowing all the way up her arm until it disappeared under the ragged bleeding edge of her elfin skin. Choking back another sob, Celia pulled her other sleeve off, feeling the skin of her other arm as though it were a mummy's wrapping, a second skin waiting to be shedded like a forest snake's. She could see a few gashes in it already, the skin peeling back like wet paper to reveal the gray flesh underneath.
Celia stumbled to her feet, feeling the sensation of the second skin all over her body, even her face seeming to be loose on her, her vision like looking throgh a clouded eyeglass. She tried to summon up a healing spell, tried to close the wounds over her traitorous skin, but the pain was all she could think about, all she could concentrate on. It took every bit of her will and fortitude to not just curl up into a ball and weep.

As she tried to stand up and steady herself, her legs seemed to twist in on themselves, and she stumbled forward, slamming into the Maag's pedestal and grabbing it to hold herself up, her lower lip peeling off to reveal the plump black drow mouth underneath.
"Huuhhh... uuuuhhhgghhh..." Celia moaned. Her legs felt all wrong, worse than the "Second skin" feeling she had elsewhere. Her fingers gripped the stone pedestal, hugging her torso to the pilliar as her legs jerked and twisted beneath her. This was wrong, this was very wrong, she felt like her knees were collapsing and her legs were tearing asunder. Through the pain Celia heard a crack in her knees and her senses seemed to become blurry and indistinct, like she thought she could feel her legs but was somehow unsure. She tried to stretch her legs, tried to stiffen and straighten them to give her some sort of support, but it felt all wrong.
"Hrrr-raaaah!" She howled, and with a tearing sound the front of her robe exploded outward, the shreds of her elfin legs hanging on a quartet of thin, spindly, chitinous spikes. Celia's wail died in her throat as she recognized the thin black legs as the most unholy of elven abominations: a drider.
"No, no, no, no, no..." Celia moaned as she slid down the pedestal, her cheek sloughing off against the stone.She could feel the points of her spindly spider-legs against the floor, but if she truly was becoming a drider, an abomination even unto abominations, then she knew the worst was yet to come.

A boiling sensation in her back caused her to bite her lip and whimper, tiny fangs poking into her thick black lips as her insides began to stretch against her torso. She closed her eyes, the pain in her head spiking as she felt her skin stretching against her body, like she was wearing a tunic two sizes too small. She felt her robes lifting away from her, her collar choking her as her back grew into a hideous hunchback, her flesh stretching away from her as she hugged herself to the pedestal. It was getting difficult to breathe, her already frantic sobbing growing dangerously shallow as her skin and robes constricted around her neck. She felt her skin tearing, small rivulets of blood seeping out, but her robe was made of thicker stuff, apparently. Letting go of the pedestal, Celia sunk her fingers into her torso, grabbing the hem of her collar in a great fistful of flesh and fabric, tearing both apart with one mighty jerk. Her holy vestments split straight down the collar, a mighty gasp of air briefly baring her four breasts, the large gray-skinned orbs tearing out of their confinement as Celia pulled her arms back to allow her space to draw in breath. The tear started in her skin provided an outlet for the strain on the rest of her, and she felt like she was being torn in half as the hump on her back seemed to fall away from her, a huge spider's abdomen falling out of her robes, four more spindly legs splaying out from it, the bristly hairs on the abdomen slicked and matted with the blood from her own skin. Celia staggered back from the pedestal, all the strange and alien sensations seeming to flow from her new and odd extremities, up through her altered body and into her head, a stabbing pain that felt like she was being driven head-first into one of those spike traps Copperpot was always disarming. She could feel her tears falling inside of her face, her dainty features now nothing more than a grotesque mask as her sobs mixed with the blood running down her head in rivulets. Despair, pain, and sadness mixed in her to produce a kind of profound weariness, Celia so overcome with the stresses of her transformation that at this point she just wanted it to end. She grabbed the bases of her ears, feeling the skin already loose in her hand, and with one final scream wrenched the two halves of her face apart, the dizzying sensation of light hitting the six new eyes that had grown around her orignal pair causing her to stumble and flop onto her side. her eight spider legs skittered inefffectively on the floor as her balance fled her and she crashed to the ground, her legs twitching and kicking the air before falling still as Celia sobbed and heaved. A few loose patches of Celia's skin still clung to her like wet rags, and her white robes were torn and streaked with blood, the fabric looking like it'd been used to clean up the floor of the gladiator arena in Daggerfall. She sobbed again, trying to shut out all the feelings and senses, trying not to acknowledge her eight legs, her four breasts, any of it. She tried to close her eyes and discovered only her two original eyes had eyelids- the six spider eyes surrounding them had only a chitinous membrane, aware of the room around her despite all of Celia's efforts to shut them out.