A horrific shambling abomination is magically transformed into a human and the story treats this as body horror. It immediately falls over into the dirt because it isn't used to balancing on legs or having bones, It claws at its too-few eyes with too-blunt nails and screams in a voice that is utterly alien to it, the ever-present singing of the cosmos is silenced as its myriad senses dull to nothing.
And all of this is made worse by these things, these hideous things that have warped its form to match their own, telling it in condescending tones that they have saved it. That they are the perfect beings, the default beings, and that surely all creatures must long for their shape. That this is better than being what it was before.