Maren was a journalist paparazzi specialized in celebrity gossip so her job usually took her to movie openings, clubs, private residences, the trash cans of private residences… but very seldom to science laboratories.

The lemming firmly believed that scientists were not celebrities. Celebrities were attractive, interesting people! But the hot celebrity gossip had been thin on the ground recently and Maren was desperate for some kind of scoop.

She would take (almost) anything! Other, more reputable, papers were always printing stuff like “scientist finds new atom/molecule that cures/will doom everything!” If she could just get one of the dorks at Science Laboratories to say something vaguely in that direction, she could sensationalize it up into space-filler.

Failing that, there were a few lurid rumors surrounding some members of the staff. It was a last resort, though. Who cared if one of the scientists was related to Mr and Mrs Antagonist? Scientist kidnapped to supervillain love-nest, saved and taken to superhero love-nest? Yawn! Scientist has secret love-child with alien visitor? That wasn’t the kind of tabloid Maren worked for!

Celebrity gossip was classy! At least compared to conspiracy nonsense! Celebrity gossip at least had grounding in reality!

Maren didn’t have trouble getting in the front door. The secretary in the lobby didn’t pay any attention to her so the lemming just walked in.

The lemming found her way to Dr Science’s office. Dr Science. Head scientist of Science Laboratories. Clearly a fake name!

Maren pushed the door open and rushed in. “DR SCIENCE WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY TO ADDRESS THE RUMORS?!”

Dr Science paused, about to eat lunch. “The press? Can a squirrel not get a minute to enjoy a sandwich??”

“You answer my questions honestly and you’ll be back to your sandwich in no time.”

The squirrel rolled her eyes. Maren took that as permission to barge ahead.

“So, Dr Science, if that’s your real name-”

The scientist suddenly looked panicked. “You can’t prove anything!” Then, she pressed a button on her desk and a trapdoor swallowed her, her chair, and her sandwich.

Tch. This was also why celebrities were better than scientists. Celebrities just fled in normal ways.

“Um… excuse me?” asked a timid voice behind her. Maren turned to see a short ferret in a labcoat. “Did you see where Dr Science went?”

Surely, this ferret was another scientist here. And she caught him sneaking glances at her hips and busty chest. Which meant she could use her feminine wiles to get him to spill the goods!

“She had to suddenly run off, I’m afraid. But I’m much more interested in talking to you, Mr…”

“Dr. Careful,” said Dr. Careful.

Well, that was also clearly a fake name. But Maren had learned better than to say so.

“Why don’t we go somewhere we can talk in private. Like, say, your lab?”

--

Maren had made a big mistake cornering this specific nerd for an interview.

He happily talked to her about his research. His boring, boring research! But he didn’t have anything to say about atoms that could be used for weight loss or magnets that might destroy the world. And he really had nothing to say about all the rumors she’d heard. He was very vehement that he knew nothing about any love-nest or any of the other things.

And apparently he never really had attractive women to show off to. Oh gee, I wonder why THAT could be? So he hadn’t taken any of her subtle hints of clearing her throat and looking at her watch. He just. Kept. TALKING.

“So I reverse engineered the purple stuff into Red Stuff and Blue Stuff,” Dr Careful happily chattered on. ”I’m still running tests on it but I believe these compounds might prove the solution to the mammary tissue scarcity problem in the world today.”

She’d stopped paying attention a while ago, while he was rambling on about growth factors and macronization or whatever.

Bored - and with poor impulse control - Maren grabbed a test tube full of red liquid when he mentioned working on something red.

“Miss Maren…” Dr Careful started. “Be care-”

“This stuff?” she asked, accidentally spilling the unstoppered test tube on herself.

The results were immediate. The room seemed to shrink around her. Her clothes also seemed to shrink around her. She whimpered as they tightened and dug into her body. A series of rips sounded, relieving the pressure but not sparing her dignity.

It was hard to estimate the damage because Maren had lost her glasses at some point. But she guessed she’d doubled in height… Her shirt was barely holding in her expanded chest. Too deep a breath could finish the straining garment off! She felt air on her legs from where her stockings had torn to accommodate her lengthening and thickening thighs… And her skirt which had rested at a saucy length just above her knee now was most of the way up her thigh with the side stitching even now gaping apart. And her underwear wasn’t faring any better! Underneath her distressed outfit, her too-small underwear was digging in very uncomfortably!

If Maren moved, breathed, or even thought too hard, her outfit was going to disintegrate, leaving her exposed. She was a journalist paparazzi! She was supposed to expose other people!

“Do something!” she demanded of Dr Careful.

But faced with so much tall, curvy lemming right in front of him, Dr Careful could only stare with a goofy smile on his face. His genius brain completely stopped contemplating any other thoughts. All the blood was flowing the other way.

Maren groaned, realizing he would be no help. And her frustration was answered with the loud popping of stitches.

As her clothes exploded, Maren decided that the important takeaway from this was to never interview scientists.

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This was a gift I got for  Y31's birthday two years ago! I'm a little late putting it up in my gallery, whoops.

Maren is his Norway lemming paparazzi troublemaker.

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Dr Careful owned by me
Maren owned by  Y31
Art by  general-irrelevant
Posted in  Y31's gallery here. Check it out for another take on this situation.