PanaMilk

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More Exposed than Ever

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My Own Goddess

“She’s cute… I wish I could be with her… maybe forever…”

Another 3am, another night spent with the glowing screen. I was drowsing, drowsing like I would be out of the world, wretched. A few sheets of note are scatter around my desk, waiting for me. The mind was almost blank except for her. Praying in the deep. This tab, this item on Amazon… It’d change my life. No, it’d take me to a life I’d never dreamt of. Reborn, maybe. In the mirror I now see the reflection of her body, my angel’s body… my body.

I am my own angel. 

She was an angel. An angel in my heart. An angel from my first sight of her – when I was in a corner, far from the teacher and other boys. Her pristine voice penetrated me from outside the wall I made with my notebook, carrying me from my seclusion to her heavenly face… Love at the first sight.

The face… it was softly pressed on my brain, coming up from time to time. Day after day, even with her sitting over the corner, lively and fluttering, I’d better be left alone. I gazed her from behind my books, her aura radiantly shining – with her best pals, alone, or barely away. Not a boy in class ever approached her. She wasn’t just a lowly angel, she’d be too sanctified to be molested! I wasn’t brave enough to ask this goddess out even if I wanted to make a girlfriend out of her.

“I wish I could be with her… maybe forever…” One day, the classroom was emptied, except for a daydreaming me. The day was almost gone. What were left were light breezes, a tilting sun and drips of dew. I dreamt of her, the sunlight all over her, halo-like. And as I dreamt, she was really there, standing over the whiteboard… gazing at me. The face she had, I didn’t know if she’d be cozy with me… And she left, leaving me behind. I wasn’t going to ask her. I couldn’t… What’d she say? Would she even accept me? Her flowing hairs, still glittering under the gilded light, drifted away. Her voice echoes on… If I couldn’t be with her, I’d better get her. Her mind and body… What if I could get a hold of both of them, not by catching her by surprise, but… something else? With her, I’d be god-like…

I’d like to be my own goddess. 


That dream was strange, just like what I thought at the end of it, but I no longer lied to myself. My heart throbbed and the blood gushed every time I remembered the time I dreamt about a girl that almost never existed. I vowed find a way to reach her someday, and that day came when I was holding a strange vial, half a grand apiece. But even with the damning eyes of my other friends (real or online) I was determined. I gulped the honey-colored liquid down, fully. 

The memories of the process are haphazard when I think about it, now that the flurry frenzy is long over. At once my mind was wavering, hopping out and in consciousness, and quite trippy for seconds. If there were real ascensions I would have experienced the of it. Pretty quickly, the whole room around me wasn’t the same stuffed place I knew for months. It was still deep in the night, but under the mystical grey veneer bright wall paint and a few pastel plushes. I fell into her place. 

Getting to the bathroom and lighting the dim lamp over me, the amber eyes I see in the mirror are hers. I used to imagine seeing, or even touching her in close. But this was something else altogether. My mind was now a permanent part of her, elevated, now joined with me in the past and for the future. 

“Gorgeous me…” my pajama’s bottom piece was slipping off my thighs, leaving one side with only hole into my lushly colored panties. Suggestive of my body’s decent figures, eh? The whole of that had a dim, heavenly aura to it. I’m lucky enough to start owning and appreciating this body, or just more proactive than anyone in claiming the girl for myself. The 2-pieces easily stripped off…

“Aha…!” Just as I smiled “her” face also smiled in the mirror. A few more weird faces, and even an ahegao, the face in the mirror did nothing but followed, with “her” fresh cheeks. Her flesh felt miraculously real. “Cute me…” I closed onto the mirror to meticulously glean over every spot of my spotless body. The nearer my face was to the mirror, the girl in the mirror leaned closer to me, until we made a “mwwwu” with my lips and the lips in the mirror… “me kissing myself, my girl and myself, one and the same…” I finally got the kiss her in the least imaginable way her potential boyfriends could can up with, and with the kiss we’d forget time passing. 

What would her – my parents think when they would wake up in the morning? The mark of my drool, all over the mark on the glass? I’d tasted her “forbidden fruit” (remembering what I said when I first admired the body) – why shouldn’t I “fall into earthliness”? “Show me everything you have on your body”, I murmured to myself… And my right hand reminded me of my places I could touch. “Mmm… soft boobs… so soft… aww so soft and gigantic…” I moaned sweetly and lustfully while I grabbed and rubbed my chest. I’ve brought a goddess’ flesh into reality… so serenely… and I couldn’t wait to see how lewd I’m easily capable of! As all the cushioning on the top went on two fingers snap inside… “Ah!” louder I cried when a lightning shocked through my body and numbed every part except the most enticed ones. So touchy and addictive… Down here my slim fingers ticked and harnessed my sexuality, slipping and clicking, mixed with my singsongy moans in the bathroom. “Great, awesome, honey…” Calling my old name I’d be more than amused at experiencing sex the first time, in this unknowable way. “keep entering and seeding in me, I’m so lovely… mmm, mmm, ahhh~” I didn’t need a boner to get her aroused, just her own fingers finding their way, and being both sides of sex this time burned more intensely on my head, totally blinding me. “Ah, Ah~” Ascension in a split second… fumes of heat and pulsated from where I was on the tiles, and over it (and at my fingertips too) I found puddles of “drool” coming from my second mouth - my “nectar”.


 
I only gained all her memories when I threw myself on the bed. Maybe if her mind was still around in my head, used to be hers, she’d be listening to all my lewd thoughts and be truly loving to who her body ended up with. 

The desk of my old self was empty the next day I entered my classroom. He’d finally found his goddess, and I’m finally with her forever, a perfect couple with my mind and her body.

No Futas?

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Crossdressing Woes

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Daydreaming with Skinsuits

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Only the Cats Knew

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Fake It Till You Make It

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Magical Bunny

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A Try at being a Bunny

A veiled moon lays low, outside the mansion...

The terse leggings on her poorly plushed legs are sliding again, like they are going to be left behind on the oily floor, even though they are fast strapped on her and pulled by the suit she’s wearing. But then, the suit is just as stuffy as she never expected when she first entered the gate of this dreamy place. Under the ebony leather, many dots of her own sweats are rubbed over her unprotected skin, lubricating the suit for stark but soft touches. Hot for the tensely-backed stretches hugged by the leather, and hotter for the two’s gazes. Strange sensations - she has never embraced the skin and flesh in this body before, let alone really doing anything titillating with it. But the diffusing excitement besides, this isn’t the best time to enjoy. They’ve got two particularly prized patrons to serve. And it starts among the orgies...

The dirty blonde beauty juggles a dish-sized plate among the clamoring mist of desire, towards the three faces she has seen so many times. Hesitating for a bit if the two bulges in front of her can support a roundel, the flashes of broken shards in her mind keep the glasses off her narrow cleavages and on the lightly spread hair of one of the laps. At least, the sound of shattering is replaced by chirps of two streams of a malt-yellow alcohol - like what we will always drink, hand on lap or not. Proficiency with her body. She has to learn the handling of this fresh body from her now blonde pal, who’s been through so many times of being the chick she is now. And look at their old bodies, who are just as fuming as they should have been. Is she, “Gina”, the only one out of place here? Like, any of those guests who’ll never guess so, complete with the blush?

“Ya know, he gotta get some unsober fun going~” being in that body, especially for months on end, makes her the real “Mel”: even the way she talks is the Mel “Gina” knows. Sweet, light lips. As Emil he’d never suspect Mel was not Mel and Chris not Chris. They never showed any sign of being “out of their character”, like someone you’ll see in fiction. Definitely being in a girl’s body gives you all the ways of coping with your body, ways to please the other sex and even the whole mindset! But not Emil, not yet. Having to talk like Gina, after all the intimate time with the real deal, gives her a stammer. “No worries, Gina. Ever seen the Mistress? Sure she had no for your sweating and huh-ings!” The first glass filled, the second half-full. “And she won’t mind for us to be who we secretly wanted to be, and even more for Cutie, yeah?” Hearing her or not, Tim’s eyebrows jolt with the remark, then signalling for another glass without words. 

“Get prepared, ‘Gina’,” “Emil” quickly nibs one of the leaves on her chest, "you never know how great they're doing like us now..." slowly penetrating under the shining leaf, down onto the modestly milked, and fondles the still-unsucked nipple. "This every night, months on end..." "Emil" reminds both of the pair, half intoxicated and slurring, still with half a mouthful of simmering beer on his tongue. "The beer, my finger, everything..." "Mel" goes on with cuddling and forcing her hand-moulded body onto her "boyfriend", his face crushing under the pair of h-cups. When the leather comes out, some ambiguously white foam are dripped over the polish. "Tim" would rather bury his head under the embrace of this pair, over her hourglass belly. The music in the background, between a whirlwind of piano and saxophone, clatters wildly.

"And so the eyes roll aside," "Emil" aptly quips. By now, even with the hands crossing over "Mel"'s waist, "Tim" would take a few looks on the girl at the pole, now and then. "Right at home here." All the bodies twisting so shapely, contorting and revealing all the feminine curves. Even "Mel" has joined and slithers her spine to the silent rhythm that is moving the pole dancer, fluttering. "Tim" needs more than the twists and grabs "Mel"'s ass, cushier than the pair of breasts he just smelled, and then thrusts her in place. “Gina” realizes, like her own “boyfriend”, they’re best served by her instead of the one already being the prize of “Tim’s”. Two more tall glasses later, the bottle is empty, and dutifully “Gina” ships the plate off the scene. Now, even “Mel” turns her head over to that dancer, barely pubescent, tying herself around the axis, the axis gaining almost all the attention in the pool for her to flex her joints. Her limbs are like the heads of snakes entangled and weaving together, meeting all the bewildered faces, and returned with even more gymnastics on a leather bikini. The couple, even “Emil”, would rather turn towards the marvel over a few glurps, than really be content just to be served.

Better served? Better served by her. A moment later, that little girl is dislodged by the side. From now on the metallic axis is Gina's. And everyone's eyes, some recognizing this chick, some not, is even more fervent in seeing every swing this new "hottie" might bring about. 

Emil was never the most athletic kid in the lot of college kids, and not even so, a few years after graduation. Gina has a hard time of thinking the right way to start moving. It's easier to be standing at the pole, watching all the greedily waiting eyes, than really taking her place for being an actual gymnast. But so naturally she starts raising one of her legs, and the leg, even though as sharp as a pen, is light enough for good movements. So quickly she lifts her petit torso off the ground, all her weight flinging around easily, and pretty soon she's waving her legs, making a T-pose with the lower limbs like a ballet in the air, all the private but covered part being on the top of the cheering crowd. A surprisingly easy start. Rolling her center of gravity back, a swirl later, she is making a perfect stretch of her legs right on the ground. 

Even Mel and her boyfriend is running to the stage, getting a better sight of Gina's newly gained proficiency. Great, the first steps of belonging here, Gina tells herself silently. Emil is already at the front of the crowd, so whenever Gina ends one of the throws or spins, clearer and clearer she thinks of what to do with the three of them, and more and more she realizes how many of the ways to please are in her muscle memory. She's gonna show who's the boss in sex. She'll drag the three of them one by one onto the platform, then act like what Emil did to her, until the stage is all wet…

Then her boyfriend, Emil, might just wishes the swap to be permanent for being so perfect. Great, who'll know? 

Maybe their dreams are in fruition, in this night of silhouettes... 

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Not So Sissy After All

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Reposition

For Lina, all the preparations beforehand can’t calm her nervousness down. Not that it shows on her face, like her usual blank smile or her aqua eyes with a nightly aura, quite fitting for someone used to hiding all her real expressions under them.

She’s nervous not because Juxtaposition demands too much. She’s ready to send her body and chastity to the next customer in the club or throw away her self-image of decency built up in her previous jobs. When she met that shady agent (who nonetheless talked her into this place and explained everything about the deal), she has expected all those.

Not the maid dress, her new “uniform”. Granted, it was probably unacceptable for “clean” jobs and “only a bit” revealing, her bust cropping out on the otherwise modest violent-and-white pattern. She’d heard of even more exposed “bunnies” who has barely a bikini under her bunny ears. And even that can be stripped whenever the customers need her.

She’s nervous because of meeting the one who’s holding the club together. Her new employer, someone enigmatically called “The Mistress”. It’s good to know your new employer well. But the agent told her surprisingly little of this woman, except her name, and so her treatment of the club she owns seems a mystery to her. Is that intentional? Is there something she (or they) has to hide, for the club, or for herself? What kind of boss will she be, other than demanding all those from her? She’ll see her sooner or later and reminds herself: be careful and hope for the best in her.

The walk to the whitewashed mansion’s doors is tough, even with all those times of standing in her past jobs. She’d better be accustomed to it, Lina thinks. She has a sigh of relief when she sees a girl posted there. Her hair has a fluffy, hoppy feel to it, and the smile’s understandably tame. “Are you the newbie? … I’d seen you from the photo the Mistress gave me, that agent took one from you she said.” “I remember…” “Call me Rab, K? Everyone in here calls me this nickname. You’ll see me every time you’re coming to work here… but yeah, seldomly, you know that.” She’s right, and “nothing’s” bad with staying overnight, especially if it’s sexually “rewarded”. “Come with me…” Even as real people and tangible furniture before her, they fade in and rarely flicker whenever Lina sees them.

The new girl has a pressing first question. “It’s a bit blunt, but are we going to see the Mistress right away, Rab?” “Nah, not for now. The Mistress said the agent told you everything you need to know up to this point, and it’s better to leave you with some on-job experience first, she told me. Besides, she’s sorting out things with a patron – yours only one tonight!” Easy or not, that’s a lot for her first night.

Crisscrossing the halls and galleries, she can’t stop noticing how bewildering all those co-working girls’ and male customers’ images cross with each other, as deep as they can. She’ll have a hell lot of tales to tell after the stint here! And so, knowing the club better from Rab, they’re at the private room where she’ll be until the sun returns. “Get yourself ready here and wait, I’ll be back at the doors,” Rab tells her before pushing and sliding the cabin door shut. Seems like Lina’s prey, a rewarding one. Unzipping the protective blue jacket for her new uniform, she takes out little packs of perfume and cosmetics from the jacket pockets – for them to be meshed all over later on. She’s just finishing herself when the time Rab scheduled comes, and like a dream ending, she fades away…

Waking up is strange. The mind’s still on the sofa when she was, but on that mirror – that’s only noticed now – is the reflection of Lina’s. The body poses in front of that mirror, not just one narrow one, but a wall covered in reflections of her. Lina at first ducks, the thighs shaping itself like a duck’s hinds (so gross), the rims barely covering the blue bottom trying to be uncovered. One hand grabs the gigantic right breast, like the hand of another lewd man, and the other hides under the umbrella cover and gropes inside, seeking her own self. She’s making a satisfying face, half making the same sardonic smile and half the penetrating gaze on her own reflection; half embracing herself and half gaining so much from this body.

If Lina’s there, who’s here? This is when he realized the belted pants he’s on. Semi-hard, perhaps, and lightly wetting. Did Rab ever mentioned a body swap Lina had only imagined in fiction? Having this body is confusing, and he can’t even rise from the awkwardly spread weight of all the bones and muscles inside him. The tie’s half undone by the open buttons, like his senses right now. Almost every time one of those muscles will ache from pulling himself too hard, and there Lina just slips up, turning herself so nimbly, and walking towards the sofa. A knowbie facing the newbie!

The pain’s almost gone, and hovering over his body’s Lina, glancing over the half-formed boner. Her face (used to be his own) is one he’d never seen before, tempting herself and him. “Thank you master for giving me the best body I’ve… The softest breasts I’ve ever played with, my own… lean but still bouncing thighs I’d like to flex, my own… Don’t you want me, my half-lame master? Don’t you see me from my back? Down here my ‘master’…” Even with all those impulses sent towards his brain, the sponge on his groin is never solid even with the images of Lina. Harder, harder, but no, a mind hard-wired to gaining excitement from being penetrated can’t start to imagine having a fertile, meaty boner on himself, not even with all the tips and tales from other girls. The head rolls, silently, against her eyes, not willing to face the superiorly adjusting “subordinate”.

“My master, get aroused… get hard… nothing bad with it, master… love your and my husks like never before, my master…” And since this isn’t enough, the maid helps by extending two of her fingers to rub and gently squeeze the part of fabric touching the foreskin. Once and twice, until she flicks the contours under the master’s member, droving mindlessly, but drooling from its mouth until the fabric’s just-dried mark wets again. This time, the master manages much better. The maid’s quick to reach his belt, first unclasping the metal ring on the belt, then unwinding the leather from the, and finally, a zipper, a button and a quick flash of underwear. Now, his member is out in the chilly air, and with all the help Lina has given him, it’s hard as rock and prepared to race their hearts.

“And now, master, have the best of your maid’s body~” as she says, she descends, still standing aside him, and holding her sizable chest with hands, forces her cleavage on his boner. The boobs are squishy, but still a nice pair to hold the boner upright. “Now brace your precious part for my precious parts,” Lina as she waves the spongy pair between a slowly dripping boner. All the blowing and stoking in his groin adds to the master’s confused senses, like something he’s never felt before. Not as Lina, not as this man before coming to the club. They’ve overwhelmed him in the start of an ecstatic stupor. “Don’t hurry, my master, hold and be patient…” from the boobs pressing against his cock, they’ve only seen their sizes until now – juxtaposing them leaves a good comparison of watermelons with thick water pipes. One place is drained, and another overfilled, everywhere flaring up, and every sense even more bewildering to the master, more than he’ll ever have outside the club! “Master, my whole body’s working for you, my top shelfs’ laboring for you, only for you and your crotch to be amazed by me!” Inside the cabin (the surroundings’ no longer clear), they’re over the Seventh Heaven, under the Seventh Hell, and the burning hearts blurs Lina’s fiddling self, and the rapid stream over him. “Amazed like you’ve never been…” a knowbie says to the newbie.

Finishing the boob job quite well, the maid knows the next step to serve her master – rolling the boobs from the assault position, while carefully not to deject the now-full boner. The deep trench that’s her cleavage is now stained with a few marks of his fertility, nicely and viscously scattered. Lightly shaping her mouth, the maid blows her mildly humid and cool air onto the tip of his shaft, preparing for a final step in placating her master. Now that the boner is up, even a light touch sends a tingling sensation down the touchy part of the foreskin, onto the spines and up to his brain. “Feeling it, master? The best is coming…” the maid remarks before mouthing the whole boner with a single dive, the master’s head now back with the attention on his “maid”. Such a boner he has, his maid’s face’s muscles are stretched until they limp on the hard pillar, only to suck. And he blows, rewarding the maid as much as himself. The maid has his white juice, down her throat and maybe the stomach, and all the salty nutrients of that. Meanwhile, he’s too off-put, the senses are now overwhelmingly and only from the boner, that his mind’s exploding with lewdness. His balls fondled by the same delicate fingers, meekly yet nimbly, is the final tip on the balance. “Auch… Agh… Aw… Ah…!” With a red-hot and gaping face, he has finally broken his total silence after landing into this confusing body and assailed by even more confusing yet exhilarating sensations. With the roar comes even harder blows, all swallowed by the maid.

A few seconds in, and the boner is already leaking its strength from the sudden blast. Not that they have enough, but the blow has gone from rapids to a drizzle. The maid slowly extracts her sucking device – she means the mouth – from the place, the face full of dripping cum, the cock full of dripping saliva. With half the load still in her mouth, all he can make out is a few slurry praises. “Congratulations on popping your man-cherry” is the clearest, and “You’ve done pretty well, my ‘new’ master” is less so.

She’s so well satisfied… and while the fervor hasn’t gone in him, the sight of her, still in her half-exposed uniform, isn’t enough to satisfy him. Not even another sucking, or a thousand suckings. The fruit’s tasted. Lina’s now the prey, and this is a better dream than he’s ever imagined.

The master gathers his whole body, and with his full strength, gets up pounces onto the maid. “Lina!” a pair of now-loosened arms clutch onto her voluminous figure, at first trying to pull every decoration and fabric of the maid dress away, until barely the blue bikini’s left, then doing away with the bikini, altogether. The eyes of the master burns on hers with full fierceness. In haste, a few buttons on him are ripped apart, the whole pants hanging loose. Lina’s barely surprised by the whole rush, but less so with how her master’s treatment. Like straight out of Eden and into the wild jungle, the two thrusts from one posture to another posture, often rabidly and often feebly, with all the cosmetics and drool flying over them. Once Lina’s breasts are squeezed and the nipples sucked, repaying the master. Each other’s asses are grabbed a few times, and every inch of their progressively nude skin are mopped over by the two pair of hands, one strong and one weak. Not to mention all those penetrations, jobs and every carnal lust their minds are wallowed in, everything else now irrelevant…

She doesn’t know how long has passed after both of them passed out. And she found herself on the top of the couple, the soaked pair of breasts hanging on her frame. Which means everything is in a bodyswapping dream, yet they’re at the same time real. The two worlds fuse and mingle together, like nowhere else. Thinking of any of the details will put a mild blush on her face, now back with the same blank smile. “Sorry, I’m really sorry… We could have done much better, and I’d done badly. Everything is still, quite a lot of fun!” She’s finally in the right mind to work here, and nothing’s going to scare her off this job. This time’s the best induction, even when a first-timer as her had gotten to their new senses. Even when a big shower, maybe a bath, is needed to rid herself of the cum-and-juice stench! The day’s breaking, and daytime is her off-time, the agent said. 

And Lina, now totally soaked and thoroughly chilly with loss, needs no answer. Don't ever try, don't catch her.

As for the Mistress? She’s in her room, replaying and watching everything happening in the cabin with an ethereal screen, a sherry cocktail in hand. “The best introduction is an introduction by labor,” she says at how Lina’s getting herself quickly with the norms of this club. After this night, she thinks, it is time to greet and induce her into Juxtaposition.

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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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