My Second Life is a Heroic Power Fantasy

There was no reply, and Jack had a sudden wave of panic sweep over him. What on earth had he just gotten himself into?

He had less than a second to contemplate the thought before he found himself rushed by a dozen goblinoid forms wielding large clubs and nets. He closed his eyes and swung his axe in front of him in a wide arc, hoping beyond hope that he managed to hit something. He felt a faint sense of relief as he felt the blade collide with something soft, and heard a goblin voice scream something that he assumed was a stream of obscenities.

He opened his eyes just in time to see several clubs swinging at his head at the same time. He panicked, and threw his axe arm up to deflect the blows. As if by magic, he managed to deflect each strike with ease, and as if on auto-pilot, followed each up with a strike that split the goblin who'd thrown it clean in two.

For a moment, he felt actually quite proud of himself.

Then the first log collided with his spine. And then another in the shoulders. He managed to somehow blindly predict the third and dodge it, only to step right into the path of the fourth so that it landed square on his right foot. He howled in pain, grabbing at his toes as he hopped up and down on the other foot. He swung at one of the other goblins with his free axe hand, clipping the creature's nose off and causing it to squeal in pain as it fell backwards behind two others.

He set his foot down and turned to swing behind him, but found the blade swung wide as the goblin immediately behind him ducked the blade, giggling as it did so. It sprung up from its crouched position and threw the net in its hands at Jack's face.

Jack tried to sidestep, only to walk directly into the path of another net which managed to drape and wrap itself around his axe and arm. He went to shrug it off, only to find another cover his head. As if on cue, all three of the nets cinced tight around him as if laced with a drawstring, strapping his arms to his sides and cinching tight around his head and neck.

Jack struggled to break free from the nets, but as he tried to rip himself free, something wrapped around his ankles, tripping him to the ground where he impacted with a painful thud to the sound of more goblin laughter. As soon as he fell, half a dozen of them were on him, wailing on him with large wooden branch clubs, which despite being wielded by tiny creatures hurt like hell.

He thrashed about, half out of an effort to break free of the bindings, half out of a desire to stop getting hit with sticks like some sort of dork pinata.

Then, perhaps jarred by his circumstances, or the twelvth blow to the head, he remembered he could use magic.

Jack imagined his body swelling in size, doubling or tripling in scale, breaking the nets and bindings on him and making the goblins small enough to stomp on. As if on cue, a random word popped into his head, and he blurted it out with all of the force he could muster.

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"Toxoplasmosis!"

With a strange tickling feeling inside his bones, Jack felt a surge of magical energy rush through his entire body, and suddenly, all at once, his body shrank to one third its original size, slipping him completely free of his bindings all at once, and turning the once tiny goblinoids into hulking green-skinned monsters.