Volterra has lived long enough to know his body. He knows every detail of himself either through touch or the reflection of a smooth forest pool, and he likes to think that he would be able to tell very quickly if something was....amiss. Especially in a region so precious to him, a region that drives him to hunt for mares and has ensured his neck swells with the stallion's crest, a region that has had a large part in the creation of the thick muscles that coat his body.

It's surprising, then, that it takes him the whole journey from the Blood Falls to the Dragon's Throat to notice what has happened to him. He hadn't felt any different after the devil-horned creature gave him the trick he asked for, but somehow he knew he couldn't possibly have escaped unscathed. Others had received useless bits of tat on string or stinking potions in vials, but Volterra had got nothing. This leads him to believe that he'd been given something different...and the arrogant part of him dared to think he'd got something better. Magic, perhaps. Untold power coiled into his body because of who he is, because the demonic creature sensed his potential and handed him something superior to the pointless items received by the others.

Has he ever been more wrong!

The leviathan is still blissfully unaware even as his wings of fire carry him over the sea and onto the Throat. He's still oblivious as he wanders amongst the sand dunes, hunting for something to graze on after the long journey. It is only when he stops to empty his bladder that it finally hits him like a bullet between the eyes - it's taking far longer for the golden stream to strike the sand this time. And it doesn't feel quite right....

Vadir peeks beneath him to investigate, and the stallion snorts his shock as the golden dragon releases a raucous shriek of laughter. What is it? he demands of her, but the queen is too preoccupied stumbling back and screeching with mirth. Her red brother is hunting, so Volterra doesn't even have him to balance Vadir's casual cruelty - it is a good five minutes before the gold has stymied her laughter enough to send him an image of the zone between his thighs.

A savage roar erupts from the mammoth's lips as he scrutinises the image his companion has sent to him. Oh, no. No no no. "You goat-horned bastard!" he howls, ducking his head between his forelegs to try and get a look for himself. Vadir rolls onto her back, draconic tears streaming down her face and great cackles of cold laughter rolling in waves from between her teeth - she is cruel at the best of times, but she and her bonded are still not fully back on track after their argument, so she delights in his misery. "So small!" she squeals gleefully, her face twisted into a dragon's imitation of a grin.

That is how the world would find Volterra; head ducked between his forelegs, desperately hoping that the usually sizeable area will miraculously grow back again instead of being a freakishly dwarfed version of itself.

Oh, shit. The herd already seem to dislike him - how will they react if they think he is a tiny-dicked freak of nature? Especially in the presence of a very pretty woman, whom Volterra vaguely recognises from around the herd. If he remembers correctly, she is a former leader known as the Transcended. It is dreadfully unfortunate that the first time they meet properly, he should be so....un-manned.

Vadir unleashes another cacophonous cackle and flings herself up into the sky to circle the two horses, chuckling boldly to herself. Through her eyes (as his own are still focused on his dwarfed manhood) he sees Sohalia looking at the area of concern, and if he could blush, he certainly would. With a haste that causes his neck to crick, the leviathan brings his head out from beneath his forelegs to eye the winged mare, his crimson gaze wide and horrified. "It's not normally so small!" he damn near wails, crippled at the thought of this mare spreading rumours about his inadequacy. "I swear!" he adds, his expression still showing how frantic he is about the idea of her judging his tiny genitals. He's always been proud of Little Vol and his two special friends, so the notion of having their reputation unduly tarnished makes panic rise from the depths of his soul.

He attempts to cross his hindlegs to try and hide the issue, but the sight of his massive feathered feet pulled daintily together like a dancer's ballet shoes is probably just as comical as the expression of abject horror on his face. "That goat horned fucker in the Blood Falls cursed me," he growls, stomping one massive front hoof in distress. "I don't suppose you know anything about reversing magical curses?"

Finally her laughter abates, and she asks if he asked for a trick or treat. "Trick. More fool me." He huffs angrily - other people had asked for tricks and received interesting and useful items, or useless tat that nonetheless was preferable to shrunken privates. Surely, though, the goat-horned monster didn't have enough power to make this change permanent. Hopefully he'll wake up tomorrow his usual well-endowed self, and when he does, the first thing he's going to do is waft his magnificent bits right in this woman's face. See, I told you so! he'll say.

But that's a very big if. This change may be permanent, in which case Volterra is in for a lifetime of humiliation. She echoes his sentiments, and the goliath gargles in dismay. "It better bloody not be. I swear to all the Gods in Helovia, if I ever get my hooves on that trickster bastard...." His voice fades off into a series of unintelligible growls that leave little to the imagination - if he meets the goat-horned one again, he'll rip off more than the unfortunate beast's balls.

May I? He huffs and shrugs. "Go for it. Can't see how this could possibly get any more awkward." He shuffles slightly to try and display the unfortunately stunted area some more, desperately trying to think of anything else but the fact he's about to have a mare staring at his junk. The last thing he needs is for the little fellow to stand to attention as it normally would under such scrutiny - it's a natural reaction, but not one he wants when he's in no position to do anything about it. This mare is attractive, there's no doubting that, but bedding her has never been further from his mind. Given his current stunted situation, he doubts it would even reach.

She suggests sleeping it off, and the colossus nods. "Aye, I am hoping it will resolve by the morning, but I worry that it will not." The thought is unbearable. Volterra is one of the most stallion-y stallions that it is possible to encounter, and the reason for that is largely the weight between his thighs. He is a man, and he is proud to be one; he lives for the succour of a woman beneath him, and the parts that make him him have also helped by layering thick muscle across his sturdy body and adding a crest to his powerful neck. To lose such a precious part of himself doesn't bear thinking about, and the abject humiliation of walking around with such stunted privates....ach, it makes him shudder with rage!

Sohalia then adds a second suggestion, and it's one that almost makes Volterra blush, which is quite a remarkable achievement. She's suggesting he get aroused? Well, he certainly isn't going to complain. For the first time, a small hint of humour twinkles in his eyes and he wiggles his sharp eyebrows at her. "Now that's an idea I can get on board with." During her inspection he'd been careful to keep the beast firmly chained within its cage, so to speak, but that's not an invitation he's going to turn down. "Shouldn't be too hard, if you'll pardon the pun." Becoming aroused has never been difficult for him, for better or for worse - it happens when he doesn't want it to, nature's way of biting him on the ass for his lusts. All he needs to do is focus hard on the attractive curves of this mare, which he does with glee. He may well be making her uncomfortable beneath the force of his clearly lustful gaze, but it's all in the name of science!

Sure enough, nature soon takes over and he feels things begin to...extend. To his dismay, though, it remains uncomfortably small and quite clearly useless, the size remaining decidedly below average. He snarls his frustration and pins his ears, suddenly feeling self-conscious by revealing such a private bodily function to this mare - after all, he's usually stood behind his partners when such things happen.

What's going on? The voice is so squeaky that it makes his dragons screech their discomfort and Volterra himself flutter his ears in panic. Suddenly there's a filly approaching, her voice so high-pitched that it sounds unnatural, and her mention of a goat-horned bastard makes the leviathan quite sure she's fallen foul of the Halloween creature as well. But then he realises his....delicate situation, and gives a startled yelp. "Shit, not in front of the kids!" He has no wish to scar the poor kid, despite how unimpressive his current trouser situation is.

He quickly turns away to try and hide his problem from the filly, and looks everywhere but at Sohalia. He tries to think of the least-arousing things he possibly can; all the male horses he's ever met, trees, sand, Kisamoa, anything to try and make the mouse crawl back into the house. Thankfully, his body obeys his mind's frantic pleading, and his manhood recedes back to its original state. Still pitifully small, but at least not standing to attention. Finally the behemoth can turn back around to look at the filly with a small frown on his face. "You too, huh?" he says with a note of sympathy, although he thinks his problem is decidedly more life-affecting.