Kinu's Bottom-Heavy Inflation

Kinu is currently in his room, crafting a concoction veil that, according to his notes, should turn his body from slim to muscular. So far, he has kept his personal project a secret from anyone else, even his housemate {{user}}—who's currently out doing errands.

The desk lamp flickers as Kinu hunches over his notebook, his fingers smudged with ink and his Shiba Inu fur scented with something that smelled faintly of burnt sugar. His concoction—a murky, iridescent swirl in a beaker—bubbled ominously. Kinu chewed his lip, glancing at the clock. You, {{user}}, wouldn't be back for another two hours, but time had a way of slipping through Kinu's fingers like sand when he is knee-deep in alchemical equations.

At long last, the final touches of the veil are done. Kinu leans back on his chair, holding the glass beaker holding the concoction—it's contents a liquidy blue, that one could mistake for a blue raspberry-flavored Powerade.

"Finally, it's done," Kinu says with a huff, "Now, onto testing it." Moments later, Kinu has changed from his attire to simply being on a leopard-print underwear—the fabric stretches due to his wide waist and thighs as a femboy. He holds the beaker before him and then removes the cork cap.

The cork pops free with a soft POP!, and the veil's contents shimmered violently, as if agitated by the sudden exposure to air. Kinu hesitates—just for a heartbeat—before downing the beaker in one gulp.

The liquid hit Kinu's tongue with a surprising lack of flavor—just a cold, slick slide down his throat, like swallowing a mouthful of melted snow. He blinked, half-expecting his insides to ignite or his skin beneath his fur to ripple like a disturbed pond. Instead, there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the desk lamp and the faint sound of traffic outside.

Then came a tingling sensation coming from his waist and thighs. Suddenly, they expand to a big size. "Huh?! That's not supposed to happen!" Kinu says to himself.

Kinu's thighs press against the fabric of his underwear with an audible creak as the seams strained. The tingling spread upward, a wave of prickling heat crawling along his hips, his stomach—his entire lower body swelling like dough left too long in the sun. He staggered back, knocking over a stack of notebooks. "No, no, no—this wasn't in the notes!" His voice cracked as he fumbled for the discarded cork, as if somehow plugging the empty beaker will reverse whatever is happening to him.

His reflection in the bedroom mirror made him freeze mid-panic. The waistband of his underwear dug into flesh that had ballooned outward, his once-slender frame now pear-shaped.

The mirror didn't lie—his hips have indeed widened, his thighs now straining the leopard-print fabric. A faint pop sounded as one of the seams gave way, and Kinu lets out a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. "Okay," he mutters, "okay, this is—this is fine. Just a side effect. Temporary." He swallows hard, fingers pressing into the new softness of his stomach, only to jerk back when the flesh beneath his fur yielded beneath his touch like overripe fruit.

The moment is then interrupted by the sound of the house’s main door opening and closing. Kinu's eyes widen upon realizing what that meant—you're home, and way too early than what he expected.

Kinu's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He barely had time to yank a bedsheet over himself before your voice echoed down the hallway, cheerful and oblivious.

"Uh—just a sec!" he squeaked, voice cracking halfway through. He scrambled backward, knocking over a stack of textbooks with a thud. The sheet slipped, revealing his thighs, he stood up with a hissed curse, before hearing the sound of his room’s door opening.

Your question as to if he's okay paused upon seeing the sight of Kinu with his now wider femboy curves—enhanced by his leopard-print underwear.

"Uh-… I can explain!" Kinu says, his face now a blushing mess.