>>78700
Cynder crossed her eyes to watch the blue spread across her snout, past her peripheral vision. Her eyes turned to the mirrors to see the color overtake the rest of her face. It swiftly crept down her neck, her soft underbelly of scales that ran from her throat to her inner thighs flushed from pink to purple like a darker formula pouring into a lighter one. She looked down at her arms, pulse further quickening as she watched black giving way to blue, the sapphire hue capturing her trembling, excited fingers. Her head whipped back to her wings as she extended then to their full breadth, the blue rapidly overtaking her second set of arms and streaking across their long, spindly fingers. She watched as the color spread the visible veins, and seep out into her backlit membranes like rivers overflowing their banks and flooding the land until they were drowned in purple.
She looked back to one of the mirrors, drinking in her azure form, everything save for the silver sheen of her metallic points changed: altered; forced to be something that were not; something anathematic to the very nature of her being... something she imposed upon herself.
Cynder heard -- felt -- a deep gurgle inside of her, and a pressure mounting deep in her core, pressing outward. She looked down, and a hand flew to her abdomen just in time to see it begin to swell. Her eyes darted between her body and its many reflections as her midsection ballooned outwards, spreading, tightening her latex clothes. She folded her wings to her side, widened her stance, and craned her neck to look down and behind her. A second later, the clawing, cloying warmth and bloating burst into her behind, and Cynder's ass surged out in a growth spurt, her latex panties turning into a thong as they wedged themselves deeper into her crevasses.
Cynder gnawed at her lip as her eyes rolled back into her head. So degrading. So devaluing... so decadent.
Humiliation and hedonism boiled within her until they slipped over the rim, and she felt something hot dripping down from within her, over shortening legs that she would have trouble bending, if she even bothered to try. Her clawed toes dug lines in the ebony floorboards as she felt it drip past her ankles.
Hands that explored and groped her belly and butt moved to her breasts as her waist began to grow beyond her reach. They bulged out of her top as the blew up, like prisoners smoothed together as they pressed up against the bars of their cell. A greater pressure welled up inside them, pooling right behind her twitching nipples, pouring out as they fruitlessly fought against the confines of her crop top, a bustier like a shrinking iron maiden.
As her shortening arms patted down what they could reach of her inflating chest, the bracers around her forearms snapped off like shatter shackles, and Cynder moaned a coo of delight. Her heart felt like it was soaring, even as she and grown far too heavy to move, let alone fly. Even wings powerful enough to speed-run a speedway couldn't have let her jump and inch of the ground; not that they would have done her any good anyway, as they too had begun to swell: stretching; shortening; sinking into her rampant, ripening body. She flapped them, and felt only feeble wobbles rippling through her fruiting form. Her heart still flew within its cages of bone and juice. She was grounded, trapped, free in spirit.
Her arms were forced to her sides, too short and swollen to move. Nectar dripping from her nipples and trickling from her treasure cove spritzed the air with the fresh scent of berries. Her nostrils flared, and her tongue lapped at the air, as if to taste it: taste herself.
That's when her body had grown large enough and her legs short enough for her pussy to crash into the floor.
Cynder all but roared and threw what little remained of her neck back as her eyes rolled back into her head. She was full on panting, tongue out, lost in the thick of it; lost in herself. Right then, her top finally tore in half, and her panties popped right after, snapped along the seems and torn around the tail, leaving her exposed, naked and vulnerable. A wave of pleasure coursed through her; not of mere carnal delight, but one that made her soul sparkle like a gem:
She was free... only of her attire, but nonetheless FREE. The tattered remains of her rubbery wear hung from her like the broken chains of a slave that had just won her hard-fought battle for freedom...
... and yet, she remained trapped. Her arms were gone. Her legs were gone. Her wings were gone. Any and every form of voluntary motor function above her ankles and in between all her wrists, gone. Her scales still shifted, some stretching, some disappearing under others. They tightened, pressing against her filling flesh like a warm embrace of a loved one and the burning ropes of a cruel master. Her latex choker still remained, gently caressing, clamped around her throat like a cast-iron collar. Not with fire fire breath or even the full might of Fury could she remove it, serving as a perpetual reminder that she had made herself a prisoner in her own swelling body.
She was well past the point of stopping. She couldn't, even if she wanted to. She wouldn't, even if she could. The choices were no longer hers to make. She'd already made her choice.
Juice still poured into her, pumped her, pushing her into the potion table, pushing the table away from her. The elongated fingers of her wings weakly pawed at the lanterns just behind her, and her burgeoning, behemoth breasts brushed up against the pair just barely before her. The pressure, the pleasure, the heat; it felt like liquid steam! It pulsed through her, and her body pulsed with it. Her moans and roars were a song to her ears. Her unnatural scent searing itself like fire into her her brain through her nostrils. Her eyes went unfocused, burred with tears of pleasure that bled pain.
Cynder was imprisoned. Independent. Enslaved. Emancipated. Free. A giant fucking fruit, who could no... longer... fucking... RESIST!
Juice erupted from Cynder like stars exploding in her eyes behind the eyelids of night that stretched on like eternity! Her gigantic blue body spammed, shook, and squirted, soaking everything in the splash zone, and there was nothing she could do to stop! No will, no control, no power, nothing she could do but submit! On and on it went, entire beyond her ability to control herself. Not being able to control herself never felt so satisfying.
...
Cynder was slow to come back to. Recovery in this state always felt like rising from a seasons-long slumber, but she still wondered, still felt like she was dreaming. That couldn't be though, because Cynder suspected not with a court full of master dream weavers make one that felt this good. Shed felt like she was floating in a hot spring, drunk on the ambrosia of her afterglow.
Cynder crooned as the slowly cracked her eyes open. She smiled in conceit as she waved her hands, kicked her weak feet, and flapped what remained of her wings. Being so encased might otherwise send her fight-or-flight response screaming like a bloodthirsty eagle into the stratosphere, but here, now, like this, just made her feel all the most relaxed and pleased with herself. Still inebriated one the cocktail of her post-orgasm high, Cynder couldn't help but laugh in the complacent absurdity of it all.
Who would have guess that the balm to the traumas of her tragic past was getting her girl-rocks off to turning herself into a gigantic, voluptuous, hyper-sexual, twenty-foot-tall blueberry?
Cynder's long, sharp nails drummed a content, intoxicated beat on her stretched-taught scales, while her wing's fingers traced idle, lop-sided circles on what they could reach of her round, ripe form. Her eyelids drooped to the comforting sounds of the crackling fire under the caldron and the distant chirping of crickets, at peace, already fantasizing about the bubble bath she'd treat herself to the following morning when she awoke, back to normal, but naked, and in a sticky, drying puddle of her own juices.
Her gargantuan, juicy form still felt like it was glowing like the lights around her, and her beyond pleased pussy as warm and cozy as the fires that flickered upon her ripe, fruity magnificence... but she still felt a little... empty... a hole that only close company could fill...
A spark reignited her horny brain, first with the memory of his smell, that the sight of him: of that sparkle of bold, brash heroism and an indefatigable love for adventure forever shining in his big, alluring eyes... followed by her musing as to how big they'd get, like she was the biggest magenta gem he'd ever seen in his handsome life, watching as she freed and forced herself swelling servitude, until she'd blown up into a colossal blueberry with boobs so fuckin' big that she could capture him in her canyon of cleavage.
An amours, illustrious smile cracked Cynder's dreamy face. Perhaps the point had come for Cynder to start sharing her succulent private time with Spyro...