Parry was stepping out of the way for Kaori to head to the showers when it happened. One minute he had both feet planted firmly on the floor- the next he was suspended about an inch above the ground. He did a quick double take on the wings to see if Cym's were acting up and giving him trouble.

Nope. No wings. 

And when he tried to move his arms to grab on to the door, he found he had about an inch of space before they were pulled back into a position at his sides. His legs, likewise, had no room to move.

"Guys..." he whispered, hovering in place as the bonds tightened. "I fink we have a pwobwem."

The sounds of chanting in old Hebrew echoed in Parry's brain as his eyes rolled back in his skull. Somewhere far away, he felt his sword- his own weapon- being acted on by forces beyond his control. Gordon and his other minion. Playing at something. Getting inside his core being, manipulating him through the blade. He knew a few things about human magic, and Gordon didn't have the power to kill him with just the sword by itself. Nor could he use it to trace Parry back to his current location- at best he'd get "somewhere on the East Side" as a result of that spell. Which begged the question- what was Gordon playing at?

The contractions, when they started, wracked through every bone of Parry's body and seized his muscles in one massive charlie horse- the metaphysical bonds that held him suspended heated up, bright red circles forming on his wrists, ankles and one around his neck. The squeezing seized him from every side at once- left, right, up, down, and even from within- in heaving fits.

Before the eyes of everyone present, Parry shrank by a whole foot.

"Guys!"

Another massive charlie horse, bones crunching and grinding as they warped into smaller versions of themselves. Another foot. Parry was left swimming in his jeans, his body less lean and defined- down to the size and height of a pre-teen. His eyes wide as saucers as Parry realized just what she was doing. If your enemy has a nuclear bomb, you don't just try to beat him with another nuke. You [i]take away[/i] his nuke. At this size, Parry wouldn't be able to do much more than lift Cym's sword. The wings would be too bulky to manifest on Parry's body as well.

"Gordon can't [i]take[/i] my powers, so he's making me so I can't use them!"

Another crack, pop, and muscle seizure made him flinch. His body curled up against its bonds, holding on for dear life as he felt the onset of one more massive muscle cramp approaching. 

"You gotta find mah sword!" 

The seizure slammed into Parry with all the force of a tidal wave, crashing and warping his body in seconds. Thrown into a whirlpool of magical energy, he finally lost it and actually yelled in pain from the incantation. The yell turned into a cry, which turned into a sob, which turned into a wail. What was left sitting on the floor, arcane bindings still on its wrists, was a child. Roughly two years old, pretty blond hair, and pudgy with baby fat.

"Well dat fuckin' shucked!" Parry said after rubbing his eyes, then gaping open mouthed at his own pudgy fingers. "Guys! Gordon made me fat! We's gotta kill him now!"