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.

Though the sidelines are looking awfully appealing right now. Provided she can crawl over to them and not demolish the guild she calls home in the process.

This fantastic and amazing piece comes courtesy of the awesome and super talented WatchOutForDragons!

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“N-not to rush you or anything…” Tyridia chimed in as he found himself swept back by her ringed tail.

Folds of her black furred mask pressed against the underside of the raccoon’s eyes. She reached forward, as her plump toes came to press against the back wall, and shoved her arm through the doorframe; even that was becoming a tight fit. The white mage’s heart thumped furiously in her chest. “Panicking isn’t going to help,” Morgan reminded herself even as she struggled to soothe the flurry of thoughts swarming in her head.

“I’m not fitting through there,” Morgan bluntly acknowledged. “I could maybe, hopefully, force my way out. I’d rather not but…” her eyes swiveled to the periphery of her vision. Behind her, pressed between her tail and padded soles, she could feel and hear Tyr panicking. Reserved and politely sure, but he was flailing all the same. The raccoon’s breathing grew strained as the opportunity for action, one that didn’t involve obliterating her room or flattening a fox, narrowed considerably.

“Magic?” she frantically thought. “It got me into this after all. Why couldn’t it get me out? Tyr’s… yeah, no. Mine...” Morgan hurriedly cycled through the spells at her disposal. “Cure, Dispel, Reverse, Vox-”

Without hesitation, she slapped a hand against her chest. Ether, congealed and thick, squeezed out from beneath her palm like jelly. “Reverse!” she shouted out as she cast the spell. It spread out across her torso, clinging heavily to her form, and darkened and warped in response to the fading sunlight poking through the windows.

Morgan grunted as the slick film of ether lurched up along her neck in slow rolling waves. Fingers curled, the raccoon panted while the spell worked its magic and a suffocating pressure forced her in on herself. Ether ensnared her limb as the illusion temporarily reversed itself and shrank rather than enlarged her. The dwindling white mage, and her wardrobe, became a shimmering chromatic inversion of themselves.

“I can do this…” the raccoon assured herself as she forced herself forward. Her now snowy white hair bobbed when her shoulders, confined beneath a straining pitch black robe, bumped against the doorframe. “Okay maybe not yet, but soon!” Morgan impatiently observed as she brushed some hanging locks of hair aside from the porcelain mask of fur that wrapped around her eyes.

Tyridia, clinging to her tail, watched on wide eyed as the advancing magic, cool to the touch, slid beneath his grip. It paid the fox no heed and simply continued to swallow up the raccoon’s marginally darker grey and ivory ringed appendage.

Morgan continued to shove herself through, scrabbling her waxen white padded soles against the floor for some semblance of leverage. “Come on come on c’mon c’mon c’mon!” she wailed as she finally succeeded in wedging both of her arms out. Her clawed fingers dug into the gaps between the planks of wood that comprised the floor while she proceeded to drag herself forward. Morgan hadn’t the faintest idea how long her Reverse spell, given the unpredictability of the illusion, much less her tolerance of it, were going to last. Hopefully, she wouldn’t find out until she was free from the cramped confines of her room. “Almost thereeeeee…”

“Be supportive, be supportive, be supportive” Tyr relentlessly repeated to himself as he felt himself tugged forward with Morgan. He could help push, maybe? Sink his hands into her rear and know what maybe not. “…D-don’t distract her, at the very least,” he chided himself.

Dragging herself forward, knees knocking against the floor, Morgan unceremoniously pulled herself out into the hallway. Exhausted, she repositioned herself until she was parallel with the lantern lined walls.

Tyridia released his grip on her tail and landed with a painful flop. Rising to his feet with a groan, he dusted himself off. “Morgan? Are you-” He caught himself when he realized maybe it was a bit much to assume she was perfectly okay given, well, everything. “Umm. I-is there anything I can do to help?”

The raccoon achingly reached up and patted herself on the shoulder for a job well done. “No. No, I’m… I’ll manage. Thank you though, Tyr,” she mumbled between breaths. “I know you’re just trying to do what you can.”

She continued to pat at herself as imperfections and bubbles appeared in the film of ether spread out across her entire body. A pronounced pop, and a spray of magic that evaporated into smoky wisps as it pelted against the walls and wooden flooring, accompanied a successful Dispel. Morgan’s coloration returned to normal, as did that of her baggy and stretched out clothes. For the hell of it, the white mage cast another Dispel. If she were able to reverse the illusion why wouldn’t she be able to-

Creaks and wooden groans echoed out from around the raccoon as she took to swelling once more. …It was worth a shot, anyway. The floor, the supports, the rafters; all of them were beset upon and bowed out by a growing raccoon. Morgan sighed when her clothing retreated up along her limbs once more and immediately transitioned from baggy, to form-fitting, to skin-tight.

Tyr swallowed hard. “Don’t ogle, dammit,” he implored with himself. Don’t ogle at those hallway filling hips, with those pants of hers tugged so tightly that they left next to nothing to the imagination and were actively threatening to split apart. O-or those soft and swollen feet that shamed him in size and whose soles rippled with warm soft wrinkles every time she curled her toes. “Oh, heck,” he sighed as he relegated himself to his failure.

Biting into her lower lip, Morgan couldn’t help but blush at the unintended eyeful she was giving him. “Actually, Tyr, there is something you can do. Could youuuuuu, not that I’m accusing you or anything, but could you maaaaaybe try to get out in front of me?” She grunted as her petering growth left her wedged firmly in place between the guild’s decorated hallways.

“Never mind,” she followed up with her lips pulled flat.

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