Drawn by the luxurious TF master Ageaus comes this tri-paged sequence of myself transforming into Lazur. It seems that hiding nervousness behind a mask comes with a bit more than you bargain for -- lust, raw strength, and a hellish, enticing grin. Are you certain the mask is really 'cursed'?

Link to Original: https://twitter.com/Ageaus/status/1.....16021124931585
Character(s) © myself; Artwork © Ageaus

Pg 1 | Pg 2 | Pg 3

Part 2:
Matt felt the mask slide pleasantly against his skin as he nestled himself inside of it, feeling an aromatic scent slip into his nostrils. Uncertain that it was because it was so fresh, he shivered as it suddenly felt as if it tightened to him. The orange mesh became closer and felt as if it were tenderly oozing, his fingers scraping at the cheek's surface as a voice in the deepermost areas of his mind began to froth forth. A sense of alarm aroused in his head as he tried to take it off, but this feeling of immediate duress melted as a sensation of serenity washed over him. The mask wasn't dangerous -- it was simply an extension of himself. The voice in his head was himself -- what he truly was inside.

He succumbed to the gentle whispers of the voice in his head as it quelled his nervousness, looking to his hands as a dark ooze was entwining his fingers. Each nail that was covered had become a sharpened, crimson claw, and the mask affixed to his jaw so well that within moments it split apart with his lips inside, forming in unison a singular, dragonoid maw. He felt his tongue be pulled as its buds were covered by a sweet, mysterious substance, and his teeth -- his fangs -- sharpened and revealed themselves underneath the dark lips. The orange mesh became less of an obstruction and almost seemed to disappear, gooey and wiery lengths draping from the mask's top as a few more stained red and draped from the front like a singular bang. A smooth substance crawled into his throat, and from deep within he felt a rumble shake his vocal chords.

The mask's ever-spreading smoothness crawled down his chest and into his shirt, the darkness of the top spreading down the back of his neck, and to his shoulders. The darkness around his hands continued to ascend to his wrists and up the rest of his digits, each nail sharpening and being dragged out into their curved, natural shapes -- those of a dragon's. With each inch it spread a feeling of pride began to burst from within, the voice's whisper melting into his thoughts as cravings of a hoard came upon him -- a desire to build a trove of 'treasures', whatever that meant to he. A feeling of strength, and of vigor, washed over himself as his biceps and chest throbbed, mass slowly accruing over his form as his once partial-unhealthy build was smushed underneath the mask's spreading ooze, pectorals flared and his abdominals beginning to carve into a sculpted package.

The darkness of his hands eventually came to merge with that of his biceps and shoulders, the young man becoming encased by layer of layer of the oozing material. His face was now sharpened and expanded outright, a slick and orange tongue -- his tongue -- spreading warm and sweet saliva across his gums. His throat was rippled with texture, and his teeth were sharp enough to pierce metal, eyes tainted orange with the wiery strings of hair draping down his back now and faintly sheening. His sense of identity was transfiguring inside of himself, less 'Matt' and more of his inner self -- Lazur Darkhorn. Yes -- this name felt right.