Refreshing Swim

I AM BACK

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Hot Local Moms Need To Strip

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Mask Season

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Not a Waifu

It was another typical night for Tim, and time to go onto Danbooru after a few odd, strenuous gigs! He closed into the screen as it loads. The first pic, another of those girls he didn’t recognize, with long black hair and altogether forgettable. She’s from, probably, SAO, and almost no one should remember her. The second one… Isn’t she from one of those harem animes? The art style looked like it. He had watched a few animes, but they were all the kind where the characters pick up a gig (like part-time animes) or a hobby (like K-On), like what he usually did. Deeper animes, occasionally, but not the kind that’s either apparently hollow or fanservicey. Those girls he preferred to look at them on Danbooru, out of context. Seriously, why would he still be browsing at that age, with his serious lifestyle and sight problems. He’d better find something else to do, like finding a girlfriend or getting better pay…

A message popped up on his Discord.

“Hi” “Hey”

“Whats up” “Still going on Danbooru”

“Getting any girl you like” “Not much, just finding and looking at my own waifus” Yeah, like any “weeb” or anime-watching folk, he’d gotten a few of the girls he liked so much, that he’d claim as his own. Not yet…

“Not just waifus but also random girls” “I’m looking at one right now she’s from a harem anime? She’s called… Irina Shidou?” Looking at that girl again, he was a bit impressed by the decent looks of hers: those waving, elongated twintails, matched with some flushing bangs and a pair of wine-red, watery eyes. She has the kind of slender yet ample figure he preferred.

“What make a waifu a waifu or a girl your favorite girl is just a small endearing trait” “So… yeah?” He was probably right: he might or might not have a big bunch of waifus, like those harem male protags, but at least, if you love a girl, you must find something in her that’d catch your heart. Looking at her again, something in her clicked with him, but only very mildly. He could have a lot more from all the waifus he already had, not to mention a girl from a harem anime whom he’d barely known!

“About your waifus…”

Tim never talked about him browsing Danbooru openly, even though that was no different from many people’s porn nights, or indeed if you can always use Safebooru for an almost family-friendly experience. But he’d open up to a few of his fellow co-workers who knew his anime binges, and chat about animes past and current. Like, their plots, their favorite moments, their weaknesses, their characters, and of course their waifus? But that was only sporadically, when they had no one to tend to, and often disturbed by sudden assignments.

He saw a new pull on Derek’s Azur Lane account: he’d gotten the wildly popular bikini Zara who he’d seen on Danbooru a lot. She looked like the kind of girl popular artists would plunge in and draw safe and lewd arts of her, with the vaguely gyaru looks, hot chili-colored hair and bikini on a succulent body. “Derek, you’ve got a nice girl!” “Nice enough for rushing yourself, maybe not enough for forming a decent fleet…” Derek thought about setting up the fleet before how he felt about her body. “But that’s not bad, considering her looks.” Anthropomorphic warships are still warships, apparently.

Tim was reminded of his time as an Admiral, but at that time, cute girls came a big second for him. He’d seen a lot of fleet girls he personally liked, but barely used in real gameplay, and he simply went on Danbooru for seeing them more often. “I was an Admiral too, once, and I’d looked for their art on Danbooru, like Kashima back then. She was big because she’d the looks, like this Zara. She’s no waifu though, just looking…” Tim told Derek about his past, and Derek somewhat knew what Tim was up to: thinking about girls you’d just see or seldom see and suddenly remembered. “This Zara, that Kashima, any girl you come across, if you like them, claim them as your own! Even though you know next to nothing about them. Know them and then you’ll appreciate them, and becoming like them! That’s how I treat my new waifus.”

Becoming like them, what did he mean? Tim guessed he’d better to think about that girl again and see if she could be an out-of-context waifu, like everyone does with a new popular character. Irina… She had no big breasts like Zara, and her hair color was rather natural (but out of place for real Asians) compared to the unnaturally red Zara. She was in a few titillating outfits, on a level with Zara’s bikini. She wasn’t even that eye-catching after the first glance!

But becoming like them?

He still had no idea of “becoming like” a girl other than making her a waifu, or indeed thinking about a girl. A girl is a girl, on her own, and Tim was Tim, that 27-year old brown-haired weeb who’d have problem seeing things without that pair of thick glasses.

The vision’s a bit blurry – did he forgot the pair of glasses? No, he could clearly see the black glass frames constraining the field of vision. The sight became foggier slowly as he tried to wipe the lens, to no effect. Until he realized the blur was spread all over the lens, and the little bit of sight outside the frame was going the other way, sharpening and regaining the focus! He removed the pair of spectacles, and surely, everything was more firmly real than whenever he had removed them before. His sight was healing miraculously.

His ears and nose felt lighter without the pair of glasses weighing on them after such a long time of wearing them. But no, even though the glasses were quite heavy, they felt too light as if they were taken away bit by bit, losing their own size then weight. Were they shrinking? Yeah and nope, as he touched his nose. He felt like it was his whole skull, not just those features on his face, was being pulled from within, so that even though everything on his face were kept more or less at a similar and human proportion while shrinking on the whole. Tim couldn’t think of what was really happening on his body, let alone really reacting to them. He could only wait until things became stable or normal again.

Almost without him noticing, the roof seemed more distant every second. Everything in the room grew, millimeter by millimeter, like the mushroom power-up reverting itself, or a previously normal-heighted human into a dwarf. The bag that was his skin squeezed his weak energy out, leaving something even weaker, but more fitting of the size his body was taking on. The T-shirt he was on, slightly loose when he put it open, was now oversized, so much that it was hanging on his emaciated frame. Or was it?

Feeling all the sweat and heat over his belly, he pulled the T-shirt on his torso, flapping it to fan some air inside. The hairs on his arm, once stood by the bit of static electricity, were quickly retreating inside the follicles. At once he pulled up the T-shirt, and it flew away like sliding away on a pole. Tim finally saw some more concrete changes on him: the once slightly muscular portion around his navel were completely skinny by then, like all the muscles under it weakening and dissolving. Instead of the width he should had of his abdomen, the torso was quickly angling towards his crotch, and the waist where his legs joined were now a new pair of bulk, more impressive than it would be for a complete male. He’d seen enough good fanart anatomy to know things were turning feminine for him – her? She had to be sure if she’d turn out to be a real chick or transgender, so ripping off the pair of boxers (figuratively), she found her old manhood retreating inside her crotch, like a turtle hiding inside its shell, waiting for a new organ and its gap to be in place. Meanwhile, on the chest, the nipples swelled from the originally broad ribs, going from paper-thin to cardboard-sized, to the size of tennis balls and now the oranges. Who would know how big they would be when they were fully grown? But she’d be another girl to be sexualized at the very least and being a slut at the very worst.

Becoming like a girl, indeed! Becoming like a girl? Who on earth would suddenly want to have their gender flipped other than a transgender! They need to learn all the troubles of their new sex and gender identities without growing up or experiencing them to some level of familiarity! Tim couldn’t start to imagine her facing the cycle or getting even a decently workable sense of fashion, not that she hadn’t seen them in others, but facing them herself was another matter. But first off, what was her face becoming? Going inside the bathroom, she found herself altogether quite young-looking for a woman her age, with much more child-like fat around her, closer to a teen. The chin was sharp, but the face had barely anything angular around it, without much of a nose, and sharp, round-eyed. The last bit of leafy green was drained away, leaving a bloodied iris. Behind her, new streaks of blonde appeared and mixed with the existing brown hair, reaching down almost to the floor. And the flushing bangs…

Not just any girl, but someone looking like that Irina, whether she liked her or not.

“Tim” was gone, and in his place Irina. At first, she thought all that mattered was adjusting to a new gendered lifestyle, which could had been quick and simple if she could find some accepting pals. But no, instead, someone with a cool and short blue hair found her, apparently knowing her for so long a time. The “memories” from this body said “Xenovia”. Bad time for someone trapped in a world she’d never known!

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Half a Dozen TG Donuts

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Following and Being Followed

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Firmware Reinstallation App and Subjugation

Travis searched on the App Store for that new app a few in the TG community talked about. It’s basically firmware update, but now done on a phone. He downloaded the free trial version which gave him one single update. “Good enough for a try, but which ‘firmware’ to be ‘updated’ like they always say,” he scrolled the reviews as the app installed on his phone.

“Listen who’s calling back – that chap wanting to rid my ‘bullshit’ and nasty stuff,” Sean mused on his side of the cellphone. “Realized how telling people to ‘fuck off’ is nasty yourself?”

“Nah, listen, we need to reconcile, and I have got something for you, you know, to recompense. Come to my place at 8 tomorrow night…” Travis had something for him in mind, and it involved things even worse than just “bullshit”.

Just as Sean stepped in front of the door, some loud buzz dazed and immobilized him like a fly dropping down from mid-air. Stiff and unfeeling, his body was when Travis opened the door, the wood panel bouncing on him. The only “sensory input”, or something stimulating in the fainted black his mind was in, was: “Initializing… Target status: Motor functions and consciousness deactivated. Body torpid. Confirm update?”

Travis lugged Sean’s body inside, sliding on the floor without being lifted. Sean budged with the drag around the place, but “without” the pain as Travis would like to see. His body ended up on the bench, too numb to protest or anything, and every garment stripped bare except the grey boxers. The body stiffened and didn’t move one tenth of an inch - All good for Travis, who wouldn’t want to see Sean’s bare chest struggling and him yelling at how the update could “disfigure” him. All good. “Confirm Update? Yes…”

“Installing firmware update: Step One: Body proportions…” The first thing to morph was this, as the skeleton under his muscle crashed in on many places, the muscles stuck on it following, so the whole body was now closer to Travis wanted than what it was a few moments ago. Like a sexy bum should be, even though the skin stayed coarse and muscles bulky – the shoulders and belly were wrapped tightly, as if with a thick blanket. Not much else Travis could notice clearly?

“Installing firmware update: Step Two: Body texture…” Clearly it meant the muscles withering away, especially on the limbs, ending up with puffy fat under the skin everywhere. The contours of the body looked much better then – slimmer and slimmer until only curves remained on the intersex hulk of a body. 2 steps in, and a long way had been gone by the body in becoming something Travis dreamed of, something straight out of his ideals. A stout woman, with all the sexiness it could have. And it was just starting…

“Installing firmware update: Step Three: Skin…” Now it was the skin, but a lot of aesthetic changes were in place. It looked like only the body hair pulled in and the pores closed up. The curves were even more perfect with the new skin, complete refined. At least the lightly tanned tone was still there, better fitting his new identity – who was it then? Travis speculated without saying it aloud.

“Installing firmware update: Step Four: Upper body features…” What was that, a feature? What a feature! A pair of full F-cups getting ready for lactate, pumped up and filled with sweet milk, from almost nothing after the chest hair cleaned itself almost magically. They were perfectly shaped and rounded, with a little pair of pinkish nipples touching on the mounds. Big enough for Travis, who thought of ways of rubbing his face on the bunch and plugging the buds for, maybe for a few moans.

“Installing firmware update: Step Five: Lower body features...” Finally, the best and the deeply wanted part. The member, rather gorgeous for gay people as it was, retracted inside the groin like a tortoise’s head, leaving no trace of itself. The foreskin moistened as it stretched out and pulled around the growing slit, wet enough for a few rounds of inserting his own member as Travis imagined. The useless balls now dissolved around the sign of her new sex, leaving the light pubic hair behind. If only she had been conscious and moaned a bit…

“Installing firmware update: Step Six: Hair...” The brief, curly hair ironed itself into a mix of golden and glossy black, streaming behind and below the sofa’s leather. It was just some quick kind of change to signify her new self? Unkempt, but maybe she would find a mirror and comb it when she was back awake. Travis would just let her do that.

“Installing firmware update: Step Seven: Face…” Awkwardly, every organ and mark on her face, with all the deep contours of her old self, were wiped away until it was blank as a smooth egg. In the place of hawkish and deep eyes and steep, iron lips, only soft and congealed skin were left to cover what she would never need. She would never need those anymore, to save Travis the troubles of gagging and blindfolding her. Who cared about her eating and drinking? The “update” would take care of it. But Travis got what was needed, a lovely shape of her chins and a mildly peaked nose around light, smooth ridges.

“Installing firmware update: Step Eight: Voice… Error: Lips not detected…” Even so, the Adam’s apple rolled inside the throat, leaving only straightness there. No more voices of struggle for her – those would only dampen Travis’s fun.

“Installing firmware update: Step Nine: Personality and Mannerisms…” The body was just a body, without. Travis hoped this body would have a docile mind on his whim, and most likely, after all those transformations she would be a subjugated sex slave of his. He couldn’t stop thinking of all those “dresses and outfit” he would provide to her, just to reveal her “natural” sexiness. Or all the ways she would be restrained or sprayed on. Being without a mouth meant no blowjobs, but Travis had much better ways to pleasure himself in mind… She hadn’t regained her mind though, and it would be a while before that…

“Installing firmware update: Step Ten: Memories… Installing firmware update: Step Eleven: Clothing and Accessories… Abort? Yes…” Travis had something else in mind other than what would be assigned. A white lingerie to fit her new bleeding-inducing cleavage and thighs, and maybe cuffs to show who she belonged. They were ready on the lap!

“Enabling consciousness and moto functions… Update complete.” she was still there, almost motionless – almost, because her head rolled to the other side. No struggles – perfect. Travis had exacted Sean’s identity from who used to be him, as a punishment for being full of “bullshit” and “nasty”. He gained this perfected goddess of a sex slave as a by-product and his own reward – now what? The girl slowly left the pouch, crawling to the lap with some extrasensory consciousness of her covering’s place, and lightly “dressed” herself as Travis wished. Seeing without eyes? Knowing his and her place, she bowed in front of the new master, evermore…

Firmware Reinstallation

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Out of the Room

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Another Onsen

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Cosplaying at the Convention

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It's Never Too Late To Give

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Found Costume

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TG Candy

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A Bento is Like a Love Letter

With each step to the main hall of the shrine, Satoshi’s heart was swinging between the thought of the wish and letting loose of love. The only thing he wanted from the shrine – where he almost never entered – was for his wish to be granted true, no matter how unlikely it was for him, Takuma Shijou, to accept a love confession from a guy. A guy! A guy having a crush on this heaven-sent prince, who had already enough girls surrounding him, trying to gain his favor – and one of his gay classmates? That was how everyone else, if they weren’t treating him as Takuma’s confident friend, looked upon him. Real life just wasn’t some yaoi romance fiction that offered much less for homoerotic – or just homosexual affection. Hope appeared dim for him, and only divine intervention could reverse this – as far as he wished. He was sweating from all the nervousness of reminding all those laughter in the dark, behind his back, for trying to take someone of the wrong sex, and a well-regarded one at that. Is being born gay a sin? Was it really needed for him to treat Takuma as just a friend – an affectionate one, instead of someone to be a partner with?
By then he was slowing at the middle of the steps, weighted down by the overwhelming indecision. But somehow, he needed to get to the top of it – someone was waiting for him, no matter what, maybe a change of mind, or some reasons for loving him or not. Besides, if he decided to wish something else, it could have been his middling grades or a better chance at entering the major he had been looking up to…
For the shrine itself, other than some of the more established gods and goddesses who bless the self-fulfilling, there was an Inari who, as local legends alleged, knew the quick way to succeed at anything. Sooner or later after the prayer, anyone in real desire to achieve would get an inspiration they never had in mind before, and that was said to the minds in a sweet mumble – the Inari answering and guiding them. Shake it off as a figment of imagination, and life went on. Take it and act exactly to her words, as some of them said, and life would turn in favor of their wish in unexpected but reasonable ways. This Inari – if the legends of the faithful were honest – would be the best girl in Satoshi’s life.
Now that he was standing in one of the side halls dedicated to Inari, he couldn’t help but to look at the offerings: a few cartoon animal plushes littering around the tables, some of them coated in dust and one or two with bright, new fur; a few bottles of tea, mostly cheap matcha pulled out from the vending machine downstairs, but one of them stood out for being Taiwan Oolong. The last one – almost obligatory by the legends – was where the subtly putrid tint came from. Onigiri piling up – if the Inari was real, she would have eaten some of them. This won’t be convincing enough for him to abandon the wish. He genuinely hoped for the onigiri he offered, made by his own hands, to be a price for summoning the Inari.
Alright, off to the main hall for some general school blessings. “Hey, what’s this, a shrine maiden slacking off?” A strange shrine maiden indeed, sleeping on the donation box and blocking any pious donations – or was she a shrine maiden? As much as her golden hair ply on the top of the wooden box, solar under the spring warmth, a pair of canine ears protruded seamlessly. The garment barely covering her and revealing her squeezing mammaries wasn’t properly what those serving or part-timing her would wear, but a scant blood-red kimono. And tails folded and unfolded on her back along with the bells and red-white ropes, one or two close to sweeping her crimson-tinted eyes.
Wiping his eyes didn’t send the Inari away; she was here, in a deep afternoon slumber. The problem was, she was taking her nap on the donation box – no wonder why some of them in the line before him turned away, apparently having a sudden change of mind. Throwing a few coins – bouncing off her skin and hit the ground. Satoshi reasoned, if Onigiri had been the most popular offering, could it have been her favorite food – and could it wake her up? Throwing Satoshi’s onigiri – she stirred at the vinegar stint, overturning and fixing her arm for the onigiri. Once grabbing the riceball, she was almost ready to sit upright and prepare for standing up, an eye tightly shut and the other half open. 
“Eh… this onigiri, Inari really like your own cooking… Um, a bento’s like a love letter, right? Inari’s so drowsy now…”
A voice from the back cut off Inari’s sentence. “I’m sorry, but please do not throw your onigiri to the donation box – a reminder for you to recognize its use.” Satoshi turned to see a nondescript shrine maiden, a plain and featureless staff comparing to Inari. Apparently, she wasn’t someone endowed with any divine power, since there hadn’t been an Inari lying on the box. “If you wish to offer to the resident Inari, please proceed in this direction and…” “Apologies, but I have already offered in the hall.” “Then…” Now knowing what she didn’t witness with her normal eyes, Satoshi had some white lie to tell. “And as you can see,” he turned his head to the box, “there was no onigiri left on the box, meaning that I have not thrown anything other than donations.”

Was it just his own hallucination and illusion that the Inari did answer his prayer, and was annoyed by him to the point that, as a vengeful trick, her voice was repeating the 4 dishes in his mind all the way on his trip back home? The same 4, starting from a whisper on the train, but increasingly loud and mesmerizing as he came close to his residence, until he was able to note them in reverse order: fried rice, ham-and-egg sushi rolls, tamagoyaki and salmon sushi. Yes, even Inari had a better taste than onigiri and knew what the best for the bento would be. With those in mind, he was hesitantly standing in front of the door, the key in hand grasping and ungrasping.
He decided to try anyway, after another trip to the supermarket for the needed ingredients. Those were more complex dishes than plain onigiri, but if he didn’t try, he won’t know if the Inari was real or just a figment of his imagination. If the Inari was real, the she might subtly change enough to aid him; or else, sending Takuma-kun a bento would still be a nice “expression of love”! Besides, he had better cooking skills than just onigiri – even though not cooking in ages.
The second thing he’ll need was getting into the right shape for cooking – and into the right persona for confessing like a girl. Sneaky Inari for injecting ideas into his stream of thought. Though being as tanned as him from being athletic might be far from some of those pale, quiet girls, he was still as convincing enough as he could to be “just a tanned school girl” – short stature, some nice make-up to take the most out of his already watery eyes and flushing cheeks, the right amount of padding, a good costume and wigs – after occasionally cosplaying and crossdressing for a few years, he knew fully what it takes to change his gender. Yes, a good costume and wigs, the female winter uniform’s necessary if he was to enter the school without rousing a few disciplinary eyebrows, long fed up with “her”. For the wig, it also had to be the usual one for school – long flowing black hair, tied into a back-reaching ponytail. “Her” usual school self was just handy for this love confession. If a guy confessing to his boyfriend was a laughing stock, then a “girl” would be far above the shame.
More time spent in the room, and a near-unrecognizable “girl”, in her usual serafuku, opened the door, passing to the miniscule kitchen. Good thing “her” mom was away for some community activity that left some time and space for her to mess around with the kitchen. “She’s” all ready for the great cooking in her apron!
Sooner or later “she” was holding the saucepan, slightly unwieldy for “her” than the last time “she” ever touched it, but still firmly throwing the mass of rice and choppings into motion. Wiping “her” sweat a bit, “her” hand – finer than ever – pulled out a streak of the long hair from the wig, so much like the real deal grown out from the scalp. And good thing “her” marine-colored lenses stopped soring “her” eyes, they were now no longer a pesky little annoyance! Getting tamagoyaki fried and cut was as simple as it got, the egg squishing as much as “her” full plumps on the chest. Quickly “she” was starting to test out the right mix of marinade for sushi rice, mixing tints of the right juice into the little dish of vinegar. Drops of this blend flowed down her throat, lightening the dry and stressed throat as far as clearing “her” voice, now octaves higher. At last, after wrapping up the bento, a gush of blushing just ran over “her” whole petite body – just getting crushed by the prospect of confessing to Takuma as a “girl” rather than his little boy! Instead of a little boy wishing, “she” might be one of those girls chasing after the prince – which would at least mean a few pairs less of glaring eyes.

Springtime and cherry blossoms – what a convenient backdrop for a romantic confession. “Akatsuki” was even more anxious to anticipate the man of “her” love letter – her tantalizing bento – Takuma Shijou. The warmth was almost freezing “her” from inching nearer to the campus. Would the prince accept a lowly “girl’s” bento, who had already redressed and refigured “herself” enough to be a crossdressing “girl”, one not too far from the mass of girls and boys chasing and leading him at the gate… But this time, as “Akatsuki” realized, was a far bigger crowd than the usual lovers. “Hanaori-chan? What’s up with prince Takuma-kun?” Just another familiar pair of feet was reaching the crowd. “Eh, nothing but him rumored to leave Japan for good – stuff about emigration, following the steps of his father, leaving for better education, blablablah. And all those talks are real – today’s his last day in this school. Geez, are you trying to bring him a farewell present, Akatsuki?”
If he was leaving, there would never be a chance for “Akatsuki” to embrace him – he won’t need too much of a love interest who won’t be coming to whereever he was heading to, let alone a strange “girl”? Wouldn’t any confession just fall onto deaf ears if he needed no serendipitous love tying him back from leaving? She was not getting anywhere – she was failing before she tried to confess. There wasn’t a way for her to send the cuisinary “love letter” at all – what had Inari done in all of those?
A sudden need took “her” to the male toilet, locking herself in the cubicle for her own business. Panties down, and “she” worked “her” hand’s way to “her” groins. Instead of the manhood “she” was going to manipulate for peeing, there was only natural cavities just suiting the rest of her body and attire. How far had Inari gone to feminize her for just a confession! Even without one, Akatsuki just felt eerily natural, feeling nothing out of her bodily instincts, without also inverting her orientation to yuri – just the right body for many other boys.
If she wasn’t sending away the bento, she could just have it by herself – that was what she thought she would have for the midday meal. Or until Inari came – not Inari, but a school girl with flowing blonde hair and curvaceous, a copy of Inari down to the turquoise eyes, but without the fox ears or tails that would have stood out. Yawning for a sleep, she picked her spot for a nap just besides her, consciously so before asking Akatsuki: “fuu... still with the bento?"



Yes, the bento was just open, with only a piece of tamagoyaki picked out by a hamster. “Inari, even though I failed to confess, I would still be grateful to offer some of the… augh, do you want some of my bento? A sushi rolls of for starters?”

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The Orb

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For the Beach

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The Princess of Cuteness

Alex closed the door of his dorm behind him, expected to see one of his many friends or enemies who knocked on his door without calling him first, pulling him out of a novel binge. Instead seeing a face he might recognize, her hair was a head below his eye level. The one standing in front of him was mildly shocking- his first impression of her was an expressly peach-and-pink-checkered bow, frilled and crossed with mint yarns and white blobby lines, and topped with a crown of love or something.

“Wa~ha! Princess’s going to make chu fluffy!” Just the right phrase for Alex to be attentive to her face. Under posh, minty hair were gigantic, lens-magnified cherry eyes, the face no doubt blushing an unnatural red. Beside the rosy cheeks were her hair rolled into a pair of wheels. This sickly make-up was enough shock for him to forget what he had been concentrating open before she wandered here.

“Heh, is this what one of my nerdy friends call ‘alienation of blablablah’? Literally becoming an alien like this? Just arriving from a childish pink planet, didn’t you…” Lame stuff needs an equally quirky and sharp response, Alex had this in mind just to fetch her away, but the girl was relentless. “Princess just wan-chu to be all nice!” Was that enough nonsense ruining his nice day of reading and binge-watching shows? Who was she exactly, with her heart bracelet and another identical bow on her heart? It won’t matter if she didn’t go away, and especially that, before he could again mind his own business.

The girl grabbed his arm by her white-gloved hand. “Princess can proclaim you to be cute! You will like obeying a proclamation!” Her grip was much stronger than she seemed to be. Soon Alex’s right arm was squeezed into place, as narrow as the “Princess’s”. Pen-like fingers were joined to a palm clothed with white linen and given a blue bow buttoned with gold. The sleeve attached to it, even with the rest of his sharply colored T-shirt intact, was trimmed with blue ribbons on the end and of a greener shade than the Princess’s corset.

Not that Alex noticed the change when it wasn’t amputated, his mind had him to get away soon-ish and back into the room. “Proclamation? What kind of authority do you have, that’s so princely? This is a dorm, not some faraway kingdom.” 2 strips of creamy hair fell onto his chest, so far out of his sight. “Can you show Princess is not a princess?” Alex tried to rebuke at her, but the blue choker cut through his throat, hollowing his Adam’s apple and almost breaking his breath. If he couldn’t say anything, it’s better for him to think of a better response. She is not a princess because, hey, he’s just seen more of those insensible tweets by the President. That certainly wasn’t a good point, but proofs are needed against her.

Proof that she wasn’t a princess? Quietly, as a sea-wave top wrap around his fattening and full chest, a ribbon crossed the opening in the front, and the self-proclaimed Princess started lower her voice into a faint chant. “Can you show Princess is not a princess? Can you show Princess is not a princess? Can you?” She should not have been a princess if… those trancing words… if the princess… so mesmerizing… the princess… the Princess…

Only this helped Alex in his realization: the eyes glowing an unnatural hazel and the cheek squishing against itself, soon every part of his face was displaced, the nose and facial hair submerging under the skin. What remained of his T-shirt, a sky-blue one, stretched over his dissolving abs muscle to glimmering blue and purple layers over the now fertile hips. Blue thighhighs, in iridescent azure high heels, pulled over the sleek pair of pure feminine legs.

The Princess… there is no proof. The Princess of Cuteness needs nothing other than Cuteness, just as being the Queen of Cuteness herself…

Blue fabric wrapped around the Queen of Cuteness’s narrow curvature, ending in a bow with a golden crest of queenhood. On a side of the Queen of Cuteness’s hair, a little crown, seated on another bow, marked the coronation. If Cuteness is God, their divine right to rule is to rule by Cuteness! Already the hallways were being transformed by their regal aura, more and more densely and richly decorated with fluff and frill, all rosy and bejeweled, full of beauty and glamour. The Queen and Princess of Cuteness are one with Cuteness, they are Cuteness; Cuteness are they, they will fill the world with Cuteness with a decree, where all will be nice, and they will reign forever! More and more of the world, once not Cute and ugly, will become their subjects and be one with Cuteness! Nothing other than Cuteness will remain, nothing other than Cuteness will be thought by all the subjects!

How praiseworthy Cuteness is! Long live the Queen and Princess of Cuteness!

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Cats and Dogs: Seeing the New Pet

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Resolution or Confession

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