Barrel-o-TF

(Plot) Magic thrives on the common misconception that practicing the dark arts means being able to do whatever you want. It’s this allure that draws people in, and is contradicted by the very nature of the practice, the ritual, rote and spell that must be invoked in order to wield the power offered. It is this contradiction that makes magic possible, allows mortal creatures of matter and substance to shape the ethereal. Magic is bound by rules and laws as rigorous as the rest of creation, as inevitable as entropy and as unforgiving as gravity. Some of these laws are followed by all magic makers, whether they are aware of them or not. Things like the rituals observed, or the costs that must be paid. Other laws are more esoteric and argued over, but stem from a base rule. When two forces collide, there can be unpredictable results. The law is the destruction that can be wrought. The ritual is the attempt to mitigate it. When a mage enters the territory of another, a Conclave must be

Contains: (females, anthro, inflation, deflation, hourglass inflation, magic, plot) Hazel was jogged into wakefulness by a sudden tug at her wrist. Not realizing that she had even nodded off, awareness faded back into her brain and she nuzzled her cheek against a pillow. Then she realized what that pillow was made of and her eyes snapped open. The police officer instinctively thrashed at her restraints, forgetting that those bonds consisted primarily of her own body. Air hissed out of her nose as she breathed through her panic, exploring the limits of her mobility. She twitched her bloated paws, feeling her distended skin warp ever so slightly around her digits, like pressing a hand against a foam mattress. Hazel relented, sinking back into herself and opting to float gently in the air, the same titanic sphere that she had been last she really checked. Utterly immobilized by her own taut balloon of a body, with her face half buried by a pair of basketball-sized cheeks. She grunted as