By trade, Morgan is a White Mage. Doling out boons and buffs to keep her friends and allies fighting at their best! Through thick and thin the raccoon has resolved to keep herself ingratiated amongst her comrades even in the most ferocious of fights. She leads by doing and is loathe to dole out spells and supportive well wishes from the sidelines.
...Unfortunately, that's where she now finds herself. Provided she doesn't spill outside of them. An illusory spell gone awry, and then thought fixed but nah not really, has left Morgan swollen in size! Filling her room, and fast, she reluctantly reacquaints herself with the ins and outs looming. Her room, and her foxy friend, may or may not survive this refresher unscathed.
So this is but a single pic among many of my normally petite raccoon gal, Morgan, suddenly finding herself looming large. There's a story in progress for it, that I'm now more like three-quarters of the way done with, and figured I may as well post even more art to accompany the story and the scene that goes with it!
Amazing art comes courtesy of Buizilla!
“Clean clothes, clean clothes!” Morgan happily recited to herself as she slid her arms into the rumpled and snugly fitting sleeves of her robe. She brushed a hand across them to smooth out the wrinkles. The notion, dreadful as it was, that she had retained a couple of extra inches was one she refused to entertain. Her change of clothes were just a little on the small side was all! “A tight fit, sure, but it’s better than none at all,” the raccoon mumbled under her breath.
The raccoon’s relief, now that she’d had an afternoon to reflect on it, had since given way to a pensive dread. She sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. “So much could’ve gone wrong that didn’t…” Morgan thought. An emptied canteen and a crumb lined plate, her late lunch, sat on her desk. What would she have done for food at that size? What would she have done for water? A canteen, assuming it didn’t explode into a mist of droplets and leather when pinched between her fingers, would barely be felt upon her tongue. Regarding food… what she normally would’ve considered a full and filling meal would barely pass as a mouthful. Hands papped against her cheeks, Morgan savored the fact she was living a near-disaster as opposed to a full-blown one.
A series of raps, gentle and uncertain, knocked against her door.
“Oh! Come on in, Tyr!” the raccoon answered.
With a creeeaaaak, the door swung open. Tyridia stood there, awkwardly, as he fretted over what to do with his dirt-stained self. “Hey Morgan,” he sheepishly greeted her with a wave.
Smirking, Morgan motioned for him to venture inside.
“I-I don’t wanna dirty up the place!” he protested. “Just… swinging by to see what all I’m covering for you. I mean, I’m sweaty and yucky enough as it is. Might as well knock all of that out since I’m only gonna get more so.”
She continued to coax him past the doorframe. “Tyr, helping me clean up my room was going to fall on your list of to-dos anyway. Now you’ll have all the more reason to do so!”
Teeth clacked together, the fox whined as he reluctantly ventured into… into… a girl’s room.
“Master wasn’t too tough on you was she?” Morgan asked. Ringed tail swishing behind her, she cleared a path for her guest by nudging aside a pair of boots that had been left sprawled out on the middle of the floor.
A disheveled and messy girl’s room, at that, Tyr noted. The fox’s gaze shifted pitifully between the noodly arms hanging at his sides. “Take a wild guess,” he groaned with a forced smile.
“I’m going to guess…” the raccoon trailed off as she approached him. Hands held up before her, she twiddled her clawed fingers and gently set them upon Tyridia’s shoulders. A soft glow spilled out from beneath her palms as she kneaded and massaged the fox’s weary flesh. “…That you could use this.”
“Y-you’re a good guesser,” Tyridia stuttered. The fox tucked his chin against his chest, reluctant to meet her gaze, and exhaled as his thoughts bubbled up. He closed his eyes and hmmed. “How… how should I go about this? I’ve already been apologizing up and down all day,” he pondered.
Morgan grunted as the openings of her sleeves constricted around her wrists.
Tyr, with his eyes clenched shut, shook his head side to side. He mmfffed when he felt the raccoon’s fingers brush against his neck. “N-no! No more moping. Don’t be sorry for the umpteenth time. Be bigger than that!” Resolute in his thoughts, the fox opened his eyes. “Be – ohhhhhh gods no be not that. Be not big.”
Jaw gone slack, Tyr fumbled for his words.
“I promise not to jinx this if you don’t,” Morgan stated. Her hands, inching up and out, swallowed up the fox’s shoulders.
Too late for that. Air whistling as he inhaled through his teeth, Tyridia nodded. Both the fox and the raccoon silently regarded one another, wary and reluctant to acknowledge that there was a pronounced, and growing, disparity in size between them. He slouched beneath the ever increasing weight of her broad palms. “…Be supportive,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Let’s… augh. Fine. This is a thing that’s happening,” Morgan sighed. Faint and smoky puffs of dark magic trailed off of her as Nadie’s spell faltered. Gingerly, the raccoon lifted her hands off of Tyr’s shoulders. She breathed easier, and shallower, when his posture straightened in response.
“Y-yeah. So it’s looking like the illusion wasn’t broken after all,” Tyridia opined in a subdued manner as he found himself eye level with his best friend’s navel. “Just. Weakened.”
Morgan could feel her sleeves ride up along her limbs, pinching at her forearms, as they made the transition from uncomfortably form-fitting to skin tight. Her pants fared little better as the seams running down her legs tugged apart, revealing the grey tufts of fur that lined her shapely legs. She couldn’t help but purse her lips and huff. “I could’ve done without the whole ‘back to normal’ tease, but, this is technically an improvement. Even if it is just less bad.”
“Want me to fetch Master again?” Tyr asked. Supportive. He’d be supportive! He’d be useful! He’d be-
Both the fox and raccoon and yelped when her swelling paws spilled atop his own. Blushes creasing both their cheeks, the duo bumbled away from each other following their unexpected footsies.
Tyr laughed nervously as he shuffled to Morgan’s side. He’d be… flustered. A-and maybe a little disappointed that didn’t last longer and no no no no no stoppit.
Ears brushing against the wooden rafters, Morgan mmfffed as she felt increasingly claustrophobic. She dropped to her knees, clenching her teeth and simply accepting that additional rips and tears were a given at this rate. Her sleeves tugged up to her elbows as her pants legs receded towards her shins.
“Maybe we should focus on me first,” she stated, urgency in her voice. Alternating pops and snaps could be heard as the seams running along her legs and shoulders pulled apart.
“L-let’s,” Tyr nodded in affirmation. “Do you mind if I umm… move?” he worriedly inquired as his friend’s limbs advanced towards him, threatening to pin him between herself and the bookshelves lining the walls of her room.
Even when kneeling, Morgan’s head bumped against the rafters once more. The white mage leaned forward and came to rest upon her forearms as she crawled towards her narrowing exit. “From where to where?”
“Umm. From here to…” Tyridia clambered over her bed and hugged against the walls as he skittered towards the back of her room. He whined as her thickening feet, rivaling him in size and exuding warmth, slid back towards him. The fox trailed off as he found himself flanked between her legs and confronted with a shapely raccoon rump. “Uhh. Here. …I probably should have just ran when I had the chance, shouldn’t I?”
Morgan grit her teeth. The thought that she might end up crushing her best friend between her thighs, or beneath her behind, was mortifying to say the least. “This is just as much my fault for dragging you in here in the first place,” she woefully acknowledged.