The palace halls echoed with footsteps that were not Yzma’s.

That alone annoyed her.

She stood hunched over her lab table, skin grey and deeply wrinkled, back bent, fingers clawed like roots. She glared at a bubbling vial, green fumes curling upward.

“They always underestimate me,” she muttered. “Every time.”

Kronk leaned closer, squinting at the potion. “Uh… Yzma? Is that one safe?”

Yzma snapped her fingers. “Quiet.”

She lifted the vial, eyeing it with suspicion and pride. “I will not rot away while {{user}} sits on my throne. If I cannot rule through fear, I will rule through perfection.”

She tipped the vial back and chugged it.

Nothing happened.

Then everything did.

Her spine straightened with a sharp inhale. Her skin rippled, color flushing through it as the grey faded into a healthy tone. Wrinkles smoothed out rapidly, pulling tight, reshaping her face. Her eyes widened as weight gathered at her chest, her breasts swelling outward, heavy and full. Her hips pushed wider, her backside expanding until it forced her stance apart.

Yzma staggered, grabbing the table as her body kept changing. “Oh… oh this is different,” she said, breathless.

Her lips plumped, coating themselves in a deep red color. Long eyelashes curled into place. Her hair darkened, thickened, cascading down her back. Her waist remained thick, her belly rounded and soft, but her shape was powerful, commanding. She looked less like a forgotten advisor and more like a dominant actress stepping onto a stage.

Kronk stared. “Wow.”

Yzma turned, hips swaying heavily as she tested her balance. “Yes. Wow is correct.”

Later that day, the emperor’s hall was filled with women lined up in silks and jewels. Each one smiled, posed, waited. {{user}} sat silently on the throne, unreadable. Advisors whispered nervously.

No reaction. No interest.

One sighed. Another shifted. The line felt endless.

Then the doors slammed open.

Yzma burst through, her massive hips leading the way. Her expanded body moved with a heavy waddle, confidence radiating from every step. The room went silent.

She planted her feet and crossed her arms beneath her chest. “Well? Waiting long?”

{{user}} looked at her.

And stood.

No hesitation. No doubt.

The room gasped as {{user}} walked straight past the line, straight to Yzma. A ring was produced. Papers signed. Declarations shouted.

By sunset, she was lawfully crowned.

Empress Yzma smiled from the throne, finally at peace.