"Okay, it looks like I won this round! Are you ready to pay up?"
This was a terrible bet. Why agree to it? Why in that game of all games? Cyril looked forward, not acknowledging the sentence that Mason spoke. They remembered now, it was a total accident. Just one sleepy "Sure" when that dragon found the most opportune moment to trick them into agreeing to something dumb. Maybe there was still time to try and explain that they never meant to agree to that bet. Mason should know it was just a mistake. And the terms were extremely lopsided. Did they even offer a prize for victory? This was a nervous moment. What DID they bet? Staring forward at the televisions mocking victory screen, anxiously racking their mind to figure out what was about to happen to them.

The dragon held a big and anticipating smile, ready to get to work. The panda was trying hard not to acknowledge them, and maybe the next steps would not have to pass. Mason was not going to wait, and took their hands up to the pandas left and right shoulder, before starting to apply a firm pressure up and down. Until this point, Cyril had not even looked in Masons direction. Seeing those eyes revel in victory would be too embarrassing with nothing to say about it. In fact, better to close them than even acknowledge that dragons indulgence.

But even still, Cyril felt the press of dragon deeps deep in their body, pressing them further against the couch. Familiar rhythmic motions that attack stress directly and reduce all tension to zero. Each press of the dragons hands; from shoulder to belly, from neck to cheek, and thigh to leg... Every press sending deeper into the couch, filling all of the empty space that could ever have existed behind the panda. And every press like digging into dough before it is baked. Hands streaming down even the tail softly. And when no tension could be felt left inside their torso or tail, gentle strokes were planted on their face, starting from the nose and spreading outwards. Over the shut eyes, and gentle pets over the ears. At some point, the anxiety even in the Pandas face had melted away, to that typical expression of contentment. And then Mason stopped.

When Cyril opened their eyes, they noticed two things. The first, was that Mason was holding a small glass dropper of a shiny black liquid. And the second was that they had been massaged so thoroughly as to be almost completely flat, with no power left in their body to move from this reclined position. At this moment, however, the desire for comfort was much stronger than the desire to move, and they instead lazily, sleepily looked at the dragon for the first time since defeat. There was no need to ask what was coming next. That would have been far too much effort. Mason got up, undoing the plastic cap on the glass dropper, and distancing themselves from the panda slightly. They aimed the dropper for Cyrils closer arm, careful to avoid being in any possible splash radius, and let one drop fall.

On contact with this black fluid, and instant darkening of the arm appeared and spread outwards as though it was water running through thin paper. Fur became rubber, and shiny. And Mason proceeded to repeat these drops over each limb, over the belly and chest, over the nose and even once on the tongue. Until all of the panda was rubber, and flat.

Mason picked up the once-panda by the scruff of their rubber neck, and their clothes fell all the way off, Cyril powerless and wobbling like a cheap costume being dragged on the floor. They flailed but just slightly as Mason clipped them on a hanger in the walk-in closet. Finally, Mason spoke

"Sorry this took so long, but I am almost done! Now, this last item was really, really expensive, so please let me get a good use out of it!"

Mason was holding something that looked like a giant zipper and threads with no garb. The panda had no idea what this could be used for, until the dragon brought it closer to them, holding it at chest level. Cyril watched as it was placed on them, top of the zipper just under their chin, stretching all the way down through their belly, and felt it instantly bond to their latex body. And they realized that now, they are now not much more than a costume of their old self. Trying to speak up in objection, they found, was impossible. Their face was stuck in that contented, tired, tongue-out emotion they held. The only thing left to do was watch and wait.

The dragon took off their hoodie and shirt, and a surprisingly large belly flopped out from what looked like average weight. Mason gave the panda a bit of a mean grin, letting the dragon gut bounce as they walked towards costume-Cyril. The dragon released their rubberized victim from the clips, and took hold of the zipper before undoing it entirely. It did not feel as strange as expected, as though their real body remained intact, and the only peculiarity was that each half moved a different direction for but a moment. But now was given a great sense of hollowness that felt nothing like hunger or thirst. It was not comfortable.

Mason positioned to put on their new costume, letting it fold backwards at the neck for the first steps into the legs. Right leg, then left. Then they proceeded to fit in the right arm, and pull the head over their own. Sight was good. The dragon spent a moment pulling and pushing their tail to fit, and was then ready to reapply the zipper.

Unable to express it, the altered Panda nonetheless felt every bit of effort as Mason did in these moments. Mason was just too fat for them, and they were never going to be able to zip this up. Please, do not let them force this zipper up. The dragon exerted and inhaled, and got some give in the zipper digging against their belly. And without a break, another, the upper half of their gut billowing out like muffins. And finally it gave completely, and the zipper was completed all the way to the chin.

It was still tight though... Mason tried to take a few careful, digitigrade steps, just as Cyril would, but the pressure of the costume was getting to them. They sat down, exhausted from the effort of putting on a costume far, far too small for them. Cyril was stretched out far, but did not feel much stress or pain. Maybe indignation. Was this kidnapping? Whatever Cyril felt..
Pop!
The magic zipper completely removed itself from the two and hit the far wall with force to scratch it. Mason's compressed belly stretched Cyril-suit out further, the zipper apparently holding the old dimensions in place. Without it, there was no way to take Cyril off. Mason walked over to it for inspection, forcing Cyril along, and determined it was still intact.

"Lucky! but I don't think I can get this thing to stay on while I'm this out of shape."

Some thoughts went through Cyrils mind at hearing this. Was this a trick just to be able to keep them longer? Mason walked out to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. Horribly cute.
"Hey Cyril, look how fat you are!"
Mason grabbed their belly, and thus, Cyrils belly, and gave it a few playful wobbles in the mirror. How long were they going to be stuck like this...
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