HeseusCristo

Wallflower

Features human bodysuits and one form of gender bending.

A beacon of fluorescent light from window shades guided those in the mellow winter night to it. Other suburban houses stood adjacent to each other as pillars, lining up against one well-kept road that led to more residential areas. Nightlife in the neighborhood was always uneventful, save for a rowdy car driving past the area. In cold silence, shards of water rainfall crept down to drape the drowsy city to bed.

Only the house mentioned earlier attempted to break the mold. Being compressed by nearby fencing, its drawback in length was compensated with a second floor and a clay-tiled roof. On it was a girl in her room who walked to the wide window she owned. She was entranced by the downpour, her immovable frame observing as the dots of water maneuvered themselves. As each droplet descended and met the glass’ thick wooden frame, their existence vanished. Finally, she sighed. Her black-rimmed glasses reflected the spotless sheen as she brought out her hand to flip the shades. The girl had an existence to hide for her best friend, especially during this unwelcoming drizzle. She was as plain as the architecture she lived in, sporting a white buttoned shirt and orange shorts. Her painstakingly ironed, side-swept ebony locks reflected the hour and matching dark eyes added to the normality of her appearance. The placid décor of her room was the only thing to have a tad of flair. A cyan wallpaper covered in various posters of musicians and idols gave some presence of her tastes, and various contemporary furniture established a clean, modern mood.

Back to the task at hand, she made her way to the cabinet as bare feet swung against the soft carpet like graceful pendulums. The girl pulled out several candles contained in glass and laid them out in the corners of her room atop tables. With each one secured, she withdrew a matchstick from another layer of the cabinet and gave each wick a lovely scarlet flame. Her preparation, though virtually flawless, left a persistent uneasiness of failure. Lack of sexual experience would easily make things go south if she couldn’t remain calm. Add the fact that she was barely adjusted to her figure worsened the stakes. She relied on the tempting fragrance of citrus and fresh wood to steady her doubts, the pleasantries not heard by ear but by nose. A stylish essential oil diffuser set up at the entrance to her room also enhanced the mood with its warm jasmine leaking out the machine’s top. Laying down and resting her head on a silk pillow while setting one arm on her exposed midriff, she called out to her unknowing lover. “I’m done, come in!” Celine Blatchford masked her beating heart with a chipper call and clenched her fingertips on the bed until they drained of color. She brought one hand back to scratch her back, feeling up her spine. Tonight was her special night, further emphasized when she so happily texted to her friends an hour ago. Her best friend even told her nothing would go wrong, but that couldn’t fix insecurity. A second had yet to pass as the doorknob turned. Bare steps finally announced her beloved, after what felt like years of preparation. The person fit the bill of her dream boyfriend, bearing a fair-skinned body exactly six foot. The biggest eye candy of all was his loving baby blue eyes that were for Celine and no one else. “Oh, this is nice!” Liam Nedd beamed, turning off the lights to get a more organic view of the candles. The simplest of compliments accelerated her beating, leaving her practically speechless. He continued on, commenting about the pleasant aroma. As he sat on her bed with hands closed together, she could trace some familiarity within the notion. She didn’t know what could entail if she delved deeper, but there was unmistakably something amiss. Warm silence enveloped the room. Liam looked at her general direction while Celine glanced back and forth at the candles. Thankfully, the moody lighting kept their hot cheeks hidden. Not even her curiosity could block out her shyness. The two clueless lovers agreed to lose their virginities tonight, but neither one had an idea of what to do. Liam had always been the suave gentleman at her side, but involuntarily fidgeting with his blonde hair brought his conviction to an all-time low. “I know what to do.” Her hands sprung into action as she unbuttoned her white shirt, arms shaking as they forced themselves to bring her bra into his view. The cold weather and general embarrassment did not let her continue undressing; rather, she kept the garment on to cling on to its heat. Her bare looks didn’t show off the hourglass figure a model would flaunt, but it was thin and healthy enough to warrant a minimal concave shape. “Hey, babydoll. Let’s take our time.” Regaining confidence, he closed the space between them and redid her tangled bangs. In truth, he was in disbelief when she took the initiative. It was just unlike her. Nevertheless, their eyes met once more, as did the shared love from the bottom of their hearts. A string connected their titillating intrigues seemingly wrapped their heads together. He stood atop her and pressed his forehead against hers, sharing warmth. Enclosed in a hug, both could feel the lingering jasmine flare to life sway around their nuzzled noses that begged for action. The nearby candles danced in delight, flames chanting sweet nothings into their minds. Liam parted from her gentle face and relaxed his legs on the open divisions near Celine’s unmoving set. Gripping her angelic hand, he shut his loving gaze to plant a kiss on it. The gesture galvanized her thoughts as they focused on the sensation of his smooth lips enlightening her hands of foreplay. It was a silent, courteous invitation to go further that needed no words for consent. Keeping his polo shirt steady, he slid down to the edge of the bed and stared at her willowy midriff. Liam inhaled as he brought his tongue out to skim the surface of her skin, pulling back her vibrant shorts at the same time. She instinctively bent one arm on one bosom, the other arm pushing the back of the hand outward and against her sweating forehead. They stood out as protective branches to Celine’s rooted figure, now devoid of panties. “Is this your idea of taking it slow?” Playfully seizing his balance, Liam toyed a strand of hair in cherry red surprise. For an apparent virgin with little sexual experience, who was now showing her most sacred areas to a person at that, even the young man found she took some things too nonchalantly. “Oh, I-I mean if it’s t-too fast—“ she flicked the stumbling mess’ forehead, holding in a giggle. It was almost ironic that her boyfriend knew so little about her tendency to switch gears despite being together for so long. This is nothing, she announced to herself. Just two lovers sharing one body. “Joking. I’m ready.” “Let’s.. do it, then.” At the expense of losing some of his dignity, it gave him some relief that she was doing the best she could to keep their spirits up. Since Celine had reacted little to being exposed, Liam did his best to follow as he unzipped his tight jeans and pulled down the rest of his undergarments. His member, now free, slowly grew longer as his girlfriend peered without comment. He covered his chest and nipples, which was still fully clothed, and looked at her feet in embarrassment as the rod grew faster. Upon reaching its peak, he was quick to draw two condoms from his sagging pants and shroud the raw wood in a transparent layer of lubricated latex. Finally, the love rollercoaster and their copulating began as he gingerly angled his penis into her and dove in. Off balance from the penetration, Celine dug her fingernails into the wavy bedsheet from the newfound thrill. She knew of its stiffness from the moment his jeans fell, but to feel the foreign, slick hardness fill her up in the present was incomparable to masturbation. As he pulled out to start tempo, she solidified her faith in her best friend’s words that nothing would be ruined tonight. Before he could establish a rhythm, however, Liam spotted drops of blood squeeze out with his solid genitalia. Worried, he grabbed tissues from a nearby box and patted some against her sensitive opening. They turned pure pale to a heavy crimson, an accurate portrayal to their former hesitation. “Does it hurt?” He set aside the tissues on the floor to distract its unsettling aura, cleaning off uneasy trails of sweat from his head. Her vagina was restored to its pristine glory, and she was unflinching to the events that unfolded. Even when deflowered, she kept to herself. “It’s fine. Don’t stop now,” her scleras glittered like moonstones, surrounded by an array of stars curious to explore the space inside of her. He gave out a half-smile from her reassurance. Wordlessly, his covered meat came in and out of her wet entrance as sweat littered both of their bodies. Whenever his legs and toes grew weak and numb from the tumultuous exercise, he curled them with the intent to go on. Every so often, his mouth would tremble as he attempted to stifle a moan. With the tangy aroma and flourishing jasmine, their noses focused not on any doubtful smells but on the sweetness of unleashing their hormones. Her muted moaning rang throughout the room, unheard by his own set of grunting to keep up with the growing penetrations. His resolve steadily weakened as his muscles grew sore, so he clasped on her midriff for stability. “.. A little too hard, Liam.” “Ah, I’m sorry..” Celine let go of the bed and bent her back somewhat upward to embrace his neck, locking them into their mating ritual. Additionally, it gave her boyfriend an incentive to rely on her strength rather than his diminishing one. He also remained in his shirt, likewise for his loved one. While Liam privately struggled to control ejaculation, she offered emotional support by keeping up a smile. He glanced at the lips, curved to gentle perfection like the crescent moon above them, and put it upon himself to enlarge her enjoyment. And so he did. This continued on for ten minutes, giving them enough time to adjust to the exotic aroma. The novelty of having something thick entering her vagina faded, and it even became almost uncomfortable from his harsh speed. Liam’s strokes gave in minutes ago as well, becoming rough and sloppy without rhythm. The unadulterated workout was as tiring as it was boring, worsened by his inability to reach her most pleasurable regions. Their sex drive was at its pinnacle at the four-minute mark, but nothing came after it. The occasional shift of positions to feel the cold breeze occurred, yet no foreplay to aid Liam’s penetration made enjoyment insufficient. Even more surprising, none of his seed spilt into his two condoms for the entire duration. With nothing to ascend them to the next level, orgasm, Celine eventuallu spoke up. “I think we should stop.” The concoction of nothingness drifted the burnt stars out of her eyes and brought in clouds. She meant no harm to him, but the abrupt message left Liam’s tongue desperate for continuation. “Can we really?” He knew the answer the moment the fresh wood and citrus dwindled into a bitter amalgamation of lost pleasure, “I mean.. I mean, was this enough for you? Did I do something wrong?” Hopeless bargaining. There was nothing to be won from the questions because the two of them had undoubtedly lost all their sexual needs for the day. He gambled on prolonging sex with the idea to entertain her, but that was the fly in the ointment. When Celine looked at his baby blue eyes, deprived of their youthful shine, she cupped his chin in an attempt to recuperate his sadness. “It’s all I need. We did our best, and we can do it again later.” Smiling, she massaged his stuttering jaw. Liam winced and swallowed in failure, feeling the beckoning saliva at the back of his hoarse throat snatch his words. Her hand was cold. --- The two worked in alone as they undid the precious scenery Celine built up, like a glorified fairy tale thrown into reality. They began by turning on the lights and redressing, bringing Liam’s discontent into the limelight. Unlike his beloved, who ambled without hesitation, his footsteps shivered in the numbness of winter. After disposal of the candles and tissues and renewal of the tainted snowy bedsheets, Liam excused himself and shambled to the nearest bathroom. Opposed to Celine’s cyan interior, this room was hospital white. A large rug was closest to the door’s vicinity, adjacent to a wooden cabinet and one sink. Liam entered, turning to the circular sink and closing the door. Mismatched splashes of water dotted the marble surface, like forgotten paints on an artist’s palette. A set of wet toothbrushes and toothpaste at the corner enjoyed themselves in a steel holder. At the opposite wall was a set of protruding bars. They contained fresh towels and the like. Lastly, covering the wall at the end of the bathroom was a bathtub and shower combination protected by glass sliding doors. Other necessities, like conditioner and soap, decorated the bland utility. He heeded it no attention as he focused on the mirror atop the sink reflecting himself, planting his hands on it. Even in this space, he enjoyed no retreat. The rain was present as they crawled and leaked from the concrete walls surrounding him. Drip. He lowered his head to the sinkhole. Drip. He closed his eyes. Drip. He felt it all now. The unnerving drift of a dastardly car as it sped through the road, the collection of rain tapping the clay tiles, and most importantly, the seductive call to be freed. For the lifeless bathroom had not been used for hours, it was suitable for Liam to abandon his greed. The shouldering chain in his height heart out any logic or reason as he positioned himself to the middle. “All I can do is give up.” Lining his fingertips against his neck, he squeezed the area to split his body from his head. As if on cue, a straight mark allowed further grasping of his very own skin. He was unfazed, removed of any remorse or anger as his facial features lost feeling. With more space to dig in to, he continued the actions with a sound similar to latex clashing with the true exterior inside. Any semblance of life on his face disappeared as it gradually stretched upward, bringing whiter blonde hair out from the eye sockets like stray patches of grass. In a flash, his baby blue eyes were gone, and in the emotionless hands of the person was a deformed mask. The inside of it was sticky with sweat, missing all components that qualified it as human. The difference between the masculine body and the head were staggering, but no time was allocated to note the change. Dropping his toothless mask as if beheaded, the same person unbuttoned his sweat-stained polo to unleash his chiseled abs. While the mask came off the shrunk into vacant flaps of skin and hair, the body remained lively like the removal of the head was ordinary. They proceeded to unravel and drop their pants to the floor, throwing it into a pile with the shirt as well. His diligence of keeping his shirt own was unveiled before the large bathroom mirror. Running down his back, from the edge of the neck to the start of his posterior, was a metallic zipper as straight as a highway. He methodically grabbed the pull tab with flexible ease and then ran it down in a fashion similar to disrobing. What belied the human as each second transformed him into skin-like texture was the fairer and unscathed skin of a woman. She peeled off the skintight husk, metamorphosing like a butterfly. Beneath the crumpled, peach cocoon of Liam as it met the floor was Phoebe Nguyen, a Vietnamese girl of Celine’s age. She let out emotionless air and fluttered her eyelids to relearn the bathroom lighting. The dissonance between Liam and her real form were somewhat neutral; the man had smooth blonde hair while she held a ruffled platinum tone cut short and gracing her neck. Some even slithered their way to her forehead as slanted bangs. Her sizable breasts, emphasized by a dominant overbust, pressed against the chest pockets of her short-sleeved polo. Despite being inside the artificial skin, each button from the collar all the way down was neatly kept and hardly shriveled. She was relatively masculine; without her supple lips, luscious eyebrows, and breasts, everything else would’ve made her seem like a lean male. Phoebe's eyes, a slanted cold glare augmented with thin eyebrows, looked into the fleshy nothingness that was a former human. “I’m a terrible friend.” She spat out in a gruff and mature voice. Her mouth was removed of its dryness from earlier since it was Liam’s throat. Grabbing the mask to examine it, his acute looks put her feminine beauty to shame. Of course, that was the case because no one would ever purchase a bodysuit with inherently flawed qualities. “I ruined her first time. What boyfriend I am,” she let out a hollow chuckle and stretched out her black khakis. “That’s wrong.” In the midst of her hatred, Celine stood in silence hearing every word. She had been peeking from the shut door, and now swung it to full size. Her soft disposition made her approach to the Asian, despite the growing heat resonating on her face. Her ankles rose out of the bodysuit as she backed up, leaning against the shower’s ornate glass. Though much taller of the two, that didn’t stop Celine’s drive as she felt some of the inorganic disguise. “I can explain!” The same transition of strong and weak emotions filled the short-haired girl again. After working so hard to practice and play the role of a likable boyfriend, it pained her for immersion to crack. The two of them were reflected by the large mirror installed, but Phoebe’s image was a plethora of loose shards on the verge of shattering. “You don’t need to. I had a hunch it was you the whole time,” the thinner girl looked to her friend, “My dream boyfriend suddenly appears, and you totally support it when you’ve never seen him?” Phoebe’s legs grew numb from the sheer cold and embarrassment of her frail plan, twirling her pale hair. Celine rose an eyebrow as she commented further, albeit more jokingly, “You’re a bad actor too. It doesn’t matter what you look like because I know all of your quirks. Like how you play with your hair sometimes.” At that, the Asian stopped the habit and broke her eye contact. Everything was falling apart, and she wasn’t keen enough to discern hatred between consolation. When mingling the thought of losing her best friend due to her hesitance, Phoebe was ready to hold her head in shame. “Aren’t you mad?” she rebutted, “I lied to you. Liam doesn’t exist. I stole your virginity.” Each sin, drenched in enough sorrow to drown in, was but shallow water to Celine. Rather, she brushed Phoebe’s fringes. The cool temperature that displeased the masculine girl completely defrosted. She knew better than to protest at this priceless exchange. “Why would I be?” she asked at the tip of her companion’s red nose, “You did this all for selfish me. That’s true friendship.” Phoebe’s lips were brimming with vapor from their closeness by the end of her ministration. The arid void of her mouth was not a common flaw in her life; unless it was Celine, her steel heart never failed to triumph over humiliation. But now, cornered and unprepared, her list of manly phrases were rendered useless. There was nothing she could do to vanquish her sweating. “Babydoll... no one says that anymore nowadays,” she thought of the cheesy line and giggled, “but it is cute.” “Erm, I got it from my sis! Th-That’s all!” Phoebe wanted to slap herself for the instinctive comeback. In fact, it was highly gracious of her to call the inadequate stream of words a proper answer. Celine removed her hand and backed away, giving the girl time to recall her charisma. She thought of her older sister’s guidance to maintain a good romantic bond and puffed up her chest as if signaling a mating call. Act confident even when you’re not, she rehearsed in her steaming head. “Do you love me?” Like a starving predator to game, Phoebe took the bait in hopes of leading the way. “Yeah, that’s right!” Moving to the right side of her best friend, she rotated her body and, with one arm, grabbed the steel bars behind her. With the shorter girl thrown into a makeshift corner, Phoebe went on with her zealous response. “I love you! But you don’t have to love me back, alright?!” Her last stand proved somewhat fruitful because Celine was still. Phoebe made an uneasy smile as she gazed for some hopeful feedback, the girl’s lithe arms clutching her tangerine shorts. Was she sour? Disgusted? Phoebe gulped as the rainfall outside slowed to a sprinkle, unable to fill in the wordless time. The cold air sunk into her fingers, sapping away their healthy peach hue. Her foot tapped the aged carpet repeatedly in desperation for any sign of luck. She wanted the rain clouds outside and in her mind to finally leave after years of pent-up frustration. She wanted to tell her peers of her hidden existence, Liam, that Celine knowingly cared for. Above all else, all she wanted was for her to say four words. It wouldn’t take a second, but there was nothing she could pray for after an eternity of living deaf. She narrowed her fixed vision, and, unbeknownst to her, Celine’s body was already wrapped around hers in a hug. With her dark locks tangling the tall girl in a grapevine of granted wishes, she couldn’t register the heat let alone the next thing spoken.

“I love you too.” “Celine..?” The tomboyish composure cracked. Recollection of her sister’s words crashed and burned into a pile of ashes, reincarnating into a soaring reality. She wouldn’t have to be Liam anymore. She won’t have to lie to her emotions anymore.

An Artist’s Bizarre Passion

Features twinning, human bodysuits, masks, and male to female gender bending. Contains spoilers for the first three chapters of Danganronpa V3.

“Yo-ho! Shuichi!” An energetic voice hollered from my door, crazily tapping the doorbell and letting it ring for one minute too many. Moments ago, I came back to the dorm after spending some free time my friend Kaito Momota and was deciding whether or not to sleep to finish the day or socialize again with someone else. A bit longer ago, the student council at this killing school was established. Now, that may not sound bad, but they were more of a cultist dictatorship than an ordinary council. They even had plans to ban nighttime activities in the name of peace, since Kirumi Tojo’s murder took place at night. Still, was limiting our freedom worth it for peace? I held this thought and opened the door to calm down my enthusiastic caller. There, brimming with positivity, was a thinly dressed woman. She was Angie Yonaga, a dark-skinned Pacific Islander with a knack for creating abstract art of all kinds, from wax sculptures to woodwork, also the president of the aforementioned student council. Despite the cooler weather at this academy, she still dressed in a sunny yellow robe and wore a white bikini top and frilled skirt under it; the pale colors were a perfect match for her hair. “Good morning. Do you need something?” I nonchalantly questioned. The majority of people to ever knock on my door were Kaito Momota and Maki Harukawa, so this was a nice surprise.

“Atua needs you!” Her stature curved into the room as she curled her index finger, pointing at my pale face. Her low twin-tailed hair followed, as did her tropical green eyes. “Huh? Me?” I was known as the Ultimate Detective, so it was going to be probable that people would need me. Though it wouldn’t hurt if the requests were less stressful and more ordinary, like to find a lost cat or something. “Nyah-ahaha! Only you!” Her blunt bangs hid how upbeat her eyebrows were, but her energetic transition that raised up her arms did reveal her darker, skinny underbody most women would die for. “Um, what for?” “I’ll explain later, just go to my lab when you can! Goodbye-onara!” Abruptly, she closed the door, and I could hear her humming as she left the dormitory. Atua, huh? For the entirety of me and other classmates here, it was her island god that she refused to personify with a set image. She claimed he came as a culmination of our desires, yet told us to let go of our desires, including leaving the school. He, or she, or whatever it was just seemed like a questionable voice in one’s head. I let those morning thoughts pass as I hastily made my way into the school building. After this, I think I’ll go check up on Kaito again. He seemed sick when the Monokubs presented the motive of bringing a spirit to life using a Necronomicon. Even saying it felt so unrealistic, but what was real was Angie’s fanaticism to bring someone to life just to kill them. No matter what she was going to do, I just didn’t want her to intervene in my late night workout session with Kaito and Maki. I digress. Traversing through the entire school, I finally climbed to the current last floor, in this case, the fourth. The environment here didn’t match the previous three at all, ominously foggy and dark and lit by candles. The worn wood and rocky statues as the decor were unlike the usual modern touch below. I suppose it fits the two labs here, belonging to the Ultimate Artist and Ultimate Anthropologist. Reaching the end of the hallway to Angie’s workplace, I had to knock several times on the front door before she opened it. Once unlocked, she gestured me inside with a smile. The last time I was there was actually yesterday while exploring new areas of the school, and today no notable changes occurred. Wax was still kept in containers while buckets of black paint unevenly spread across the white floor, some spilling and staining the wood. The whole room was white—even the unbuilt roof had the same tint, and the fluorescent lights shined pure. “Now, now.. sit here!” She bent her knees and patted two footprints made of blue tape right next to a large monitor. I positioned my feet there to the best of my ability since it was not in the range of my foot size. Looking down, I saw how the distance made formed a triangle between my legs. “Good! Close your eyes!” Her back faced me as she began to gather items from the stacks of wax, shuffling through it and making clanging sounds. “H-Huh? Why?” She came back holding a hairdryer and a gigantic bucket of wax labeled, “Soft and Hands-On,” in a bold red font. “‘Cause Atua says so! Now close your eyes!” I gave up rebutting and shut them as told, moving my lips in anticipation for what she was doing. I heard some sort of clicking behind me, and then the hairdryer began to blow on something. That something was my feet. “Eh?” I involuntarily looked down, seeing Angie pat down mounds of wax at my soles. It was warm, but not scalding hot. “Atua told me He wants you to be His newest follower!” She continued until my entire feet were inhuman mounds of wax. Her work was diligent, preserving as much of it as possible while still having enough to be molded. Wait, was I going to be stuck and forced to join? “W-What? Why are you doing this, then?” I received no answer as her eyes were now the ones closed, somehow working as effective when they were open. “Mhm, mhm! I see!” Thankfully, they reopened for her to comment, “Oh, you must be quiet so Atua can communicate to me.” With no way to resolve her tenacity to put wax on me, I remained silent and blinded in the still coldness of morning. In due time, I was as rigid in the substance, aside from my face. Nothing more was placed on me for a good minute or two, so I opened my eyes impatiently. “Angie..?” I murmured. I didn’t want to break the wax, so I continued looking in one direction. When I tried glancing down without moving my head, I saw two conspicuous brown.. orbs? Something white and long entered my vision, now that I became more attentive. Few moments passed after I called to her, finally coming into by vision as she bent over from my right. The grin on her face was much larger than any other I’ve seen since our arrival to the school. “I’m here! Atua’s made His final preparation!” She walked back to my view, something preciously held in hand. “A wax mask?” She was in glee as if the work was satisfactory, but her full smile was from doing half the job. There wasn’t anything colorful in its interior. “Oh, you saw it? It’s like a death mask!” When she waved it around so I could fully see the facial features, it was.. her?! “Two Angies are better than one, Atua says.” Her whole face grew ominous, eyes virtually glowing as the words crept out of her mouth. “W-W-Wait—“ The mask was instantaneously placed on my face, turning my words into inaudible, muffled confusion. I wasn’t aware she was going to make an Angie out of me! T-This girl was dangerous! At this point, I could’ve broken the wax at the expense of her tedious work, but for some reason, I let it happen. Did I mind the amount of effort she put into making a wax statue of herself? “It’s like an Angie effigy! Don’t worry, Shuichi! I’ll get you out very soon! The end result will be beautiful!” All of my trust was put into her craftsmanship, hoping she wasn’t plotting something as insane as murder. Time held less meaning as the darkness from being encased warped my vision and mind. The only thing I could hear was the muted swishing of paint and wax, which engulfed my body in pleasant heat. Standing there made me numb in a comfortable way. I didn’t feel any worry, paranoia, or claustrophobia. In this environment, I was drifting in space with no freedom to stop and return to the ground. I started to feel my surroundings after what was akin to a hibernation. Granted, it was already frigid, but this time it felt like it was directly stinging my skin. There was something off about the sensations in general, however. My butt, to put it bluntly, seemed more defined and outward; I felt this in my chest as well. I noticed something crawl down my head in addition, but throughout this observation, the mask was still on my face and blocking any viewing. The discomfort began to resonate with my lower body. It was like my feet had less surface to touch the ground, and that my calves and thighs were almost too puffy and padded for to my usual liking. Out of all of this, my privates were the ones impacted the most. Nothing felt like it was there, but something had to be there, right? Was I imagining it was gone..? There certainly wasn’t anything that felt protrusive, no doubt. Clenching my crotch muscles provided no answer. Finally, I could see, though I would never perceive things the same way again. Something felt weird on my face, like overgrown eyelashes. Abnormal heavy bangs forced me to use my hand to shove them away, but then I saw my hand. Unlike my usual pale, somewhat blemished skin, it was brown and soft as fine powder. I pulled out my other hand and noticed both were smaller, had longer fingernails, and womanly. “Excuse—excuse me?!” My.. voice?! Its echo from my throat sounded just like Angie’s, from her aloof tone to everything else! I pulled the courage to look down, and found myself blushing at a pair of dark-skinned breasts! Even darker areolas with stiff nipples horrifyingly validated my reaction. I should have gotten an erection, yet I felt nothing. To add to my horror, my clothes had somehow disintegrated as the wax molded me into a bare woman. “It’s not there?!” I tried to steer clear of the breasts newly attached to me as I dove my hands around my crotch, spreading them to hopefully find the girth of a penis. But it was absent! Instead, I touched a woman’s— “Atua wants you as His artist! Wow!” The true Angie, appearing from behind, clapped her hands together with a grin contrasting my visible terror. “H-How did this happen to me?!” I cried out in my unaccustomed airy tongue, furiously touching other parts of my body and confirming my new form in red-hot shock. Sliding my hands down my back was like smooth sand, and it bent to my no longer shallow ass. It was a perfect size and touchable shape of a woman’s, and sensitive enough to warrant my heart to drop. How did wax even do this?! “Oh, just like Pygmalion and Galatea. Just like Atua’s will, He chose you to spread His word!” Her casual attitude toward an exact clone of herself was insane! This woman was a fanatic inside and out!

“W-What are you trying—“ I tried to move a foot toward her, but I was not accustomed to the tiny steps and landed right in her body. My unkempt white hair sprawled all over her robe, and my head rested on the side of her bikini top. Like treating an animal, she patted my head with a face of ease, catlike smile and closed eyes that reflected enormous zen. “It’s ok, Angie. We’ve lost many followers due to their desire to leave. It’s ok. Let’s make a paradise here and stay.” She spoke of paradise, but her gentle, motherly tone was its own paradise. It never sounded so full of honey and compassion before. A miracle struck me as I found myself closer to her, reveling in her warming hug that thawed my previous chills. My eyes lingered near the verge of closing, hypnotized by her motherly caress. Why was I upset, again? Why was I Shuichi, again? “You’ve been good for helping Atua during class trials. But we won’t need those if we just peacefully stay here. No trials, just Atua and His love.” I was Shuichi, but now I am Angie. The fact didn’t strike me as peculiar. That was just Atua’s way of helping me realize who I really was. I fully embraced myself in sharing her dream, closing my eyes as she brought a hand back and forth to grace my hair and relaxed cheeks. Love.. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that. If I was as devout and acted exactly like Angie, would Atua love me? Is that why I didn’t believe in Him before? Atua. Just what did He look like? He, no She, was the perfect woman. Her childbearing hips signaled herself as the catalyst for nurture and fertility. Her arms stretched out to grab me and put me into her body, like Angie. Blonde perfection mentally wrapped around my head, stunning my thoughts. Yes, Atua was Kaede Akamatsu. A girl who I kept a promise to, the one who believed in me. The promise made less coherent sense to me, but I actually couldn’t remember what it was. Not that I bothered because Atua loved me and that was sufficient. “Shuichi, we don’t need truths. Only Atua.” The truth. I felt a tear loosen out of my eye when I heard the word. From the moment I arrived at this school, truth was what I wanted to avoid as a detective. Funny, wasn’t it? I’ve mingled with the thought too many times. If I hadn’t exposed Kaede’s plan to save us all, she wouldn’t have died. If only someone else, no, all of us chose to take Kirumi’s position, the Prime Minister of Japan would be alive and millions wouldn’t have to suffer. Why can’t I do anything right as myself? Perhaps becoming Angie was my single way to atone. “You don’t need to be so serious. Let all of your needs go. Your need to leave. To hate. To be afraid. To care. This is Atua’s truth, Angie.” Atua’s warm voice sounded different from their first statement, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need to. As long as I have Atua, oh, then I can be Her vessel! What a wonderful truth, an offer I couldn’t refuse!

“Now you know Atua and Angie very well.” I woke up from my revelation as a child with her mother looming above. “I.. do. Nya.. nyahaha!” I giggled, taking her—no, using our signature laugh. She followed my excitement by raising her hands up to her hand into praying position, laying me down. There, she had her own spurt of happiness as she whispered a mantra. “Atua is such a handsome god! So nice to all!” I lifted myself up and matched the pose, looking at her with the same jubilant expression. “Please, teach me how to be more like you!” My eyes widened at her talent as an Ultimate Artist. Oh, how wonderful would it be for me to create art for everyone to enjoy! “I will, but Atua is the one making the lesson plan. Has He talked to you about masturbation?” I was confused. She hadn’t really spoken to me yet, but I knew she was there. “No? Ohh? I wonder why?” Her entire upper body dramatically swung left and right with confusion. “O-Kay! You see, Atua is the pleasure you feel when you do it!” She went sideways and held one hand out like it was holding something on a platter, while the other bent backward to form an upside-down thumbs-up. I stuck my hands together and squeezed my cheek fat. I want to do that! “He cleanses your mind of stress and worries, giving you His love and affection to make art!” I listened and nodded carefully as her new disciple, soaking in all of the knowledge like I was reborn. ”Show me how to do it!” I could no longer contain my delight at making art and masturbating. I relaxed my body on the floor, flat and looking at the ceiling. Angie, her knees bent and adjacent to my own, pushed her arms up so her upper body was above while her twin tails fell. “Remember! This is Atua.” I nodded, my head moving in the agonizing wait. After talking, she dove her head down and tickled my waist with her silver hair. Her arms didn’t move at all, but her mouth did. The rosy lips that once spout Atua unraveled a hungry tongue that flicked my left nipple, making my breast lightly vibrate. I automatically jolted my foot and pushed it further into her bountiful thigh; the sheer intensity and speed of her was startling pleasant! She did the same for my other nipple, making me put a hand over my mouth in surprise at the new feeling. But she rose her head up and swatted it away, saying, “Atua wants to be heard.” She furthered the foreplay on my generous boobs, moving her tongue in circles as they traced my areoles. The sense of cold moisture on my nipples, the subtle jiggle from each revolution, finally made me release a shy moan. “Ah.. A-Atua!” My jade eyes squinted, eyebrows curved from it. In this pleasure, I saw my goddess. My carnal awakening of femininity was all thanks to Her! My dumbfounded, wide mouth closed as I grinned, knowing Atua wanted this. She was helping me become Angie! The real Angie finished her loving suckle of my breasts and moved on to my private parts, going downward so our bodies no longer touched. Oh, it really was female! I saw a small figment of it, and it was as dark as my recently tanned figure. She steamed hot breath into the area, adding to the increased heat I already felt from being touched. She opened up my legs by placing her hands right next to my crotch and pushing it away, bringing my pussy into full-fledged view. “Teach me to be Angie, Atua!” My last request was only heard by Angie, who closed her eyes and ignored the plea. Eyes closed, tongue wide open, she started at the bottom of my vagina and licked all the way up. Her motion was extremely stalled like she was sampling the pink flesh in all of its divine glory. I could see her head slightly turn up as another moan escaped me. My head felt even lighter than when Angie cradled me, drifting my soul from my worldly conscious. The next stroke of her tongue was much stronger, making me recoil and push out my pelvis and surround her mouth with its embrace. How spectacular did it feel to have my inner and outer lips massaged by Atua! She kept on going until I felt a tiny bump right above my opening stammer at her licking. From there on, it was all cunnilingus and all pleasure. She continuously coaxed the bulb with her saliva, twisting her tongue like never before. I just had to move my back up, so I did and planted my arms behind to be stable. The shifting of my pussy didn’t matter, as she just held onto it and never stopped with her lecherous movements. Now I was the one who had to look below, though now I had a better view of her insatiable licking. “A-Angie!” A pent-up emotion that I had no knowledge of surged within me. Lust. It grew with each embrace of her lips, as steady as the ascension up a roller coaster. My arms were strained from holding myself up, and my toes began to shake and curl. I still felt absent-minded, but this overwhelming feeling hit my body and mind. And then, in that prolonged moment of anticipation, I finally orgasmed. First came my muscle spasms that made my whole body vibrate, and then it was the intense culmination of my dark-skinned pussy that erupted from the sheer euphoria. Nothing actually came out from my drenched vagina, but a series of loud and unsophisticated moans from my other lips. As I laid there, in erotic bliss, Angie stood up. Her eyes shut again, while she extended her arms and cupped her fingers. When I finally stopped my noises, Angie laughed. “Nyahaha, did you feel it? This is what Angie feels when Atua speaks!” Our shared relief and pleasure made me understand why Angie was so contempt on praising Atua, and now I was ready to make art. As if she read my mind, she brought out a bucket of black paint and a bristled paintbrush to start. I’d seen her use these tools once as Shuichi, and now they were mine. I desired to use them, but it was a desire to illustrate my mind and give it up to Atua. “I’ll let Atua use your body to create. Goodbye-onara!” She frolicked out the door, reminding me to lock it from the inside and to ignore everyone who knocked. I followed in her footsteps, each step of mine beaming with excitement. I get the whole research lab to myself! Another giggle came from my throat, which no longer had an Adam’s apple. Picking up the tools Angie left me, I searched for somewhere to reciprocate Atua’s will. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a rather large sheet of canvas resting on a wide table. It was the perfect size and shape, too! I cheered out loud to myself as I ran to get it, spacing it on the floor afterward. I snatched the blunt paintbrush, drenched it in the sleek black bucket, and held it out to drip. By now, I was standing on the canvas. Each drip brought me closer to Atua until my body began to move on its own. Black paint stained my breasts as I danced around the open canvas, my paintbrush dripping all over the place. The mismatched ink splotches stained the previously flawless material into a texture similar to that of a cow. All the while, I was having the most fun in my life! To bounce across the surface, laughing, uncaring of how many times I dipped the paintbrush back in was totally addicting. I was thoughtless of how the color flicked on my butt, face, hands, and legs because Atua wanted this. I finished spraying the last dots of black, rubbing my darkened hands together gleefully. The entirety of my stress as a man was forever gone. Yet, when I looked at my work, something was still off. Atua wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, either. I didn’t worry about the flaws, though, for Atua had given me back control and so She must’ve been satisfied. I laid back down on the floor, in a tidal wave of dark pleasure, humming, “This is nice..” --- Possibly because I steered away from reality and my true situation, I couldn’t recall how long I was staring at the ceiling. During the duration, I stopped thinking. Who I was, why I was there, the questions were downright ignored. My thoughts seemed so scrambled now, unlike my position as the Ultimate Detective. I focused more on the roof as such, identifying its abstract, incomplete finish and support beams with appeal. When I finally came out of my messy trance, one single thought popped up with it. “Oh.. I need Angie’s clothes to be Angie.” And to get those, I decided to walk out naked and covered in paint. There was no shame in being one with Atua, after all. My lab was on the fourth floor, so I spent ten minutes prancing down each staircase, a spring in my step as I hummed downward. Upon reaching the third floor, I was shocked! It was already dusk! Did Angie really work on me for that long? I ignored the day transition, instead thinking that someone dedicated their time to give me their joy, as well as a passion for Atua. Once I finally got to the main entrance, my goal of the dormitory was just ahead. I was surprised to see, well, no one. Not even the people from the student council Angie established came in my view. Oh well! I wandered into the glass dormitory and went to Angie’s dormitory instead of mine, rapidly tapping the doorbell and awaiting her response. She opened the door, putting her hands on her cheeks and noted how dirty I was, but how Atua taught me well. She handed me some towels to clean the stains, claiming it was blessed. No matter, hearing her compliment me and our god made my heart flutter, no doubt! Letting me in, she showed me the arrangement of her room which wasn’t different from mine, only having red highlights as a difference. “Take an outfit. Or two! Maybe three! As many as Atua says!” Hmm.. At Atua’s request, I grabbed one pair of her usual outfit. I first took the robe off its hanger and compared it to my shorter form and feminine body figure. It was nothing like my old uniform, which was an ugly moody black suit with thin gray stripes. On the other hand, this was dazzling! The bright dandelion robe gave me so much freedom, being so spacious to fit brushes inside and even draping my knees. Unlike my double-layered male clothing, this one showed off my undergarments and had fresh air to spare. “Hey, hey! Let’s start with these first.” She took out her bra and skirt, to which I found myself even more infatuated with. Since I had no knowledge of wearing a bra, Angie helped me put it on. It wrapped around my upper chest and neck, safeguarding my nipples that had enough exposure for the day. The pair was frilly like a pearly seashell, with a long ribbon that tickled my stomach. Next up was her pleated miniature skirt. It had a cute white underbody and a coral belt diagonally on the upper portion. To top it all off, a ribbon larger than my bra relaxed itself to the side. I rose my legs so she could put on her frilly white panties, and then wrapped the cyan skirt around my waist. Finishing the deed by fitting into the robe, I clapped my hands together on one side to affirm my delight. “So lovely!” My simple phrase made the other me nod in agreement. “What’s missing..? Atua knows! It’s my accessories!” She raised up her left hand to signify I was missing her pearl bracelet, her leg bracelet, and even her seashell necklace. Looks like I’ve got ways to go before I can be her, but Atua is going to help me. I just know! “Oh well! I can fix this for now until Atua gets extras.” I watched as she dove to her bedside counter and picked up two hair bands. Oh, her hairstyle wasn’t messy like mine right now. Going towards my back, she grabbed a clump of my hair on one side fully, making an invisible line divide my white locks. Then, with one hair band, she pulled her hand down to reach the lower area of the strands and wrapped the band around it. When she did the same for the other, she put the two in front so they wouldn’t disrupt my back. With my hair touching the frontal part of my robe, I was ready! “Now what do I do?” I said out loud, throwing myself on her bed and making snow angels. She would’ve done the same, I bet. “No, what Atua wants you to do!” Oops! I backtracked my thought process, now on a better path. In the depths of my mind, though not too deep, I remembered that I wanted to see Kaito. For what, though? I curled my lips in confusion, which felt odd without a paintbrush poking at my chin. I remember doing something after nighttime.. or was it before? I stopped wrinkling her bedsheets to give her Atua’s response. “Atua wants me to see Kaito, but She doesn’t want to tell me why.” “Kaito, huh? He’s not a follower of Atua. I think Atua wants you to teach him how generous and caring He is!” Wow, Angie is so talented at interpreting Atua! I jumped out of bed to thank her with a hug, but I ended up hitting something. Her bed was lined up against a wall, so when I sprang out, I thought I would be right next to her table, but instead, I was struck by an abnormal sculpture of wax. I noticed other wax effigies, four of them in total, surrounded us and were fully colored. The one I bumped was.. Kaede. “An-gie?” I stood, weightless until that name brought me back to my senses. “Nothing. I didn’t see these when I entered.” “They’re beautiful, yes? You must love them.” Love.. them? I focused more on Kaede than any of the others. She was lifelike, at a height remnant of the original, with each strand of light blonde hair appearing so touchable. Her clothes, the fine pink vest, looked to be made of real fabric. It was as if any moment her lips would open and tell me something. And they did. “Don’t be afraid, Shuichi.“ Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. The echo of her words from centuries ago brought the slightest shred to my frail lucid dream. I looked at my hand. Lithe and brown. It was.. it wasn’t.. “Let’s go to Kaito and show him Atua’s pleasure!” I declared by raising my hand, the one I stared at, to the sky. I have no time to be worried, I half-heartedly told myself. “No need to rush things! The warehouse has what Atua needs to love him—rope!” That rang a bell. Rope. Where have I heard that from? Nevertheless, Angie forced my hand and pushed me out of her dorm, but I engulfed myself in her spirit as we ran together holding hands, like a pair of young twins. Skipping through the moonlit, overgrown halls, they felt more harmonious than they ever were when I passed by as my old self. Wearing the swishing robe and feeling the breeze from only wearing a top and skirt were all new to me, but Atua would teach me to get used to them. The doors of the storage signaled us to stop our running, so we came in and gazed at the expansive shelves until we found the rope. She called for three, so we each grabbed a short bundle of the durable material. We came back to the dormitory, at the center of all the rooms. “Okay! Ring Kaito’s doorbell and go inside his room when he opens. I’ll be hiding.” With her master plan unveiled, I followed without a word of doubt because Angie should trust Angie, right? I bounced up the skeletal set of stairs up to the second, fenced floor and walked to his room, which had a pixelated frame of him above the door. Angie still saw me on the lower level and was waving with a free hand as I knocked on the door. A quickening beat of my heart shot out through my body as I now rang the button with my sweaty fists, tense at how he would react to me. “Urgh, you’ve got to come back later. I’m feeling so sick. I’ve been too tired and couldn’t eat anything.” Kaito Momota, the Ultimate Astronaut, said his words with a sickly tone of blue over his head. His head faced downward as a hand rubbed the back of his neck, emphasizing his massive hairdo. “Coming right in!” I gently nudged his body away as I sat on his back and looked back for a reaction. “What.. what’s going on with you?” His breathing was heavy, air crawling out of his still mouth. Upon further inspection, sweat beads of tiredness overwhelmed his expression. I was going to fix that very soon. In fact, very, very soon! When he tried to approach me with his unprofessional slippers, the true Angie popped right behind him and grabbed his wrists before he could react. He almost suffered an injury as he fell, but I went down on the floor and cushioned his fall with my thighs. I looked over and saw opposite hands touched opposite elbows, tied to the middle by rope. “Urk?!” He managed to tilt his head up forward and promptly met my elated eyes and gaping mouth. I bent my head sideways to look endearing as he twisted his face in horror when he saw two of us. “There’s two of you?! Is this t-t-this the occult?!” His unprecedented fear made his goatee shiver with his mouth. The occult? No, it was Atua! “Atua and Atua only!” The Angie from behind confirmed his superstition, almost reading my mind. “Which one.. is...” His face and body as a whole turned into a black shade, heightened with greatly downsized pupils. Aw, what a cutie! While he spurted out disbelief, we had already locked him in place on the floor, securing and opening up his limbs with nearby furniture. “Well, I guess I was Shuichi!” He stopped every single gesture of his body, only intently viewing my body up and down. Angie and I came together, looking at his vulnerable position. “Oh my god.” Hey, he was adjusting to Atua already! Finished, Angie pulled out a brush to fidget with, staring at me with a raised eyebrow and a grin. I think she knew what was coming. I walked in front of the bed so Kaito could see me in my blessed, full glory. The clothing Angie put on me came undone as I threw my robe to the floor to unveil my hidden curves. I fiddled with the bra from behind until it fell, bringing out my sizable breasts into the open again. From there, I toed closer to his frozen stature and brazenly took off my skirt so he could see my lower lips. Bending down to my knees, I leaned into his ears with a smile, saying, “Atua did this to me.” Then, I lunged at him until my naked body mixed its rich darkness into his unbuttoned jacket, polo, and white undershirt. A single flick of my tongue at his ear coaxed it in sweet saliva and sent him stuttering. “S-Shuichi.. is this really you? Even.. even your clothes..” I closed his lips with my hands.

“Atua got rid of my boring clothes ‘cause She said I didn’t need them. And.. don’t call me that. I’m Angie now.”

I opened my mouth and dove into his neck, letting out my hot and husky breath. I saw goosebumps on his skin. His smooth, kissable skin. Infatuated, I nibbled the back of his neck, and when he tried to look back, I held him in place with my arms and sprung in for a sloppy kiss. Engrossed in the experience, I shut my eyes closed so only our actions mattered. If he was struggling, I didn’t feel it at all. Instead, I was eating him out with my animalistic tongue, tracing the contours of his mouth as his weak tongue succumbed to my tender grasp. Meanwhile, Angie removed his galaxy-printed slippers and unraveled the buttons in his pants, seeing an amassed bulge push out of his underwear. I departed from his mouth after what felt like hours of pure goodness. I didn’t care that he was sick because all I tasted was his masculinity. A string of saliva connected us for a few seconds, which I saw once my eyes slowly revealed themselves. His must’ve been relishing in my blunt white bangs and scent of sex from two hours ago, as his eyes were no longer full of fatigue but lit with motivation for something. “I’ll join your god, okay?!” Geez, that was really quick! “Mhm, great! Let me bestow his first gift: Pleasure!” I mounted myself on his chest, tearing off his undershirt and pushing his other clothes so my hazel skin could touch his. Angie found her own calling by laying his head on her knees, securing him to watch my teasing. Laying on his body with my back upward, I went up and down his chiseled abdomen with my delectable figure. My adequate boobs joined in on the fun, lightly vibrating every time I decided to push them on his hardened flat chest. “Listen to me, Shuichi! You don’t want to do this!” He squirmed against the rope, to no avail, only rocking our bodies. “Eh? Why not?” I went upright, pressing my bubble butt right in front of his crotch and feeling up the heated fabric of his underwear. “The truth is, b-bro, that you never lived in Angie’s hometown, lived with her parents, or grew up to be the—“ I ignored every single word of truth as I moved up and blocked his mouth with my tan vagina, now sat on his face. “Mmphf!? Mm-mphf!” “Atua says act, don’t talk!” I declared, staring into his broadened purple eyes. He kept protesting, though, muffling his words into the lovely insides of my vagina. Such wonderful sounds! Each attempt to speak filled me with humid breaths, making my pussy quiver as its juices collided with his face. I murmured Angie to move as I weakly held the back of his head, forcing it to rub against my pussy. When he squirmed, I buckled in delight managed to open up his mouth. “Sorry, Kaito! Atua takes priority!” It was wrong to do this, but I didn’t want to stop. Not until I proved Shuichi Saihara didn’t exist anymore. In the heat of the moment, I leaned forward and let go of him, placing my hands far beyond his head so all he could see was my slim midriff while I stared at the cold floor. I was so close to that sensation I eagerly wanted ever since Angie, no Atua, gave me it. Breathing excessively, with a glint of joy in my eyes, I accelerated towards the feeling. “I.. I love being Angie!” Everything seemed to flow down there as I reached climax. I felt my loin muscles and hand grip tighten as I collapsed from the laborious, steaming sex. Harsh moans filled the night, while Kaito faintly yelped in surprise. Our sticky bodies, coated in gallons of sweat, unskillfully hit each other. Air returned to my lungs after seconds, and when my energy also was rejuvenated I rolled over. Kaito coughed, mouth drowning in a splash of my lubrication, unable to clean his face glossed by my shaking vagina. I laid adjacent to his mostly-clothed body, using my elbow as a pillow. Seeing him, flustered and still tugging at the ropes, was my new dark pleasure. Newfound strength resonated with me like never before, making me believe I had enough power to finally do something. “Nyah-ahaha! We’re not done yet!” With my free hand, I tilted his chin. With the mess on him, it seemed like I drained his determination out. “Sh-Shuichi, you..” Angie, who casually watching the events unfold, went back to holding him on her lap and came down for her own kiss. She brought out her tongue and swept up all of my juices into her mouth, licking at Kaito’s tingling face. Finishing it off with a kiss on his forehead, Angie reminded him with a wink. “Hey, Shuichi is Angie now. Atua gave him his love, and now he’s happy.” “That’s right!” “Don’t fuck with me! I know Shuichi’s still in there!” He was being awfully loud.. and too accurate. If he kept talking, I’d be less Angie! I can’t have that! “Mhm.. I have an idea.” I assured Angie, standing up and moving to Kaito’s lower body. In the middle of his crotch, his undone pants still held up that solid erection. With a giggle, I strapped my hand on his underwear and pulled down to see his hard penis in full, meaty glory. As I did this, Angie traced my steps and laid more kisses on his head, and then stripped herself in a swift manner as to not delay our sacred sex. His cock was staggering, almost as tall as my eyes when I went to his level. At the bottom was a short bush of hair, but at the top was a trembling, scarlet tip. The uncircumcised penis bore no decency, only coated in clear precum at the end and dribbling some more of it downward. Merely staring at it, imagining how the massive veiny girth would be swallowed in a moments’ time had my heart racing. I was really going to do this. “The h-hell is this?! I can’t cum to Shuichi!” A flurry of emotions struck his face, including embarrassment and horror. Angie, upon hearing that heretical name once more, gently sucked his left earlobe. Her masterful technique compared to mine had his knees twist and shake, and when she nibbled on the wet ear, made Kaito moan in baritone. “Keep calling him that, and Atua will conquer your body and soul.” She threatened him, eyes darkened, and then moved back before reverting to happiness. At first, I wanted to caress his cock with my slender hands, but a voice in my head wanted me to punish him for trying to make me remember. Straddling myself on Kaito once more and placing my hands on his nipples, my face practically sparkled when he saw what was unfolding. “You’re my s-sidekick, right? You wouldn’t do this, right? Right?!” God, he was so vulnerable and sexy now! I nodded no, swinging my silver hair, and spread my smooth, thick thighs right between his rod. I began to lower myself more and more, poised into the perfect position where an early ejaculation before penetration would manage to impregnate me. “If you don’t start calling me Angie soon, Atua will have a lot more followers!” Impregnation.. giving birth.. being Angie to the fullest.. Kaito shouldn’t object to such a peaceful route. It was better this way for me to stay as the fun-loving Angie. “D-Don’t go further, I’ll.. I’ll come if it happens!” He would’ve raised his fist in front of him, but all he could do was beg by yelling. “Just saying, you asked for this.” His stout cock finally touched my clitoris, but it wouldn’t go beyond that. The alien sensation of his hot cock poking at my equally flushed vagina made me gasp in pleasure, and to extend that feeling I threw a hand onto my one of my boobs and kneaded it carelessly. Angie silenced Kaito’s whimpers by planting her tongue into his mouth, bringing down her back so her breasts obscured his vision with brown goodness. As she was in the same position that had her use her lap to hold Kaito, his hair traced the outside of her vagina. I rotated my flawless hips so Kaito’s leaking dick followed, gracing both of my labias and forming a light trail of semen that mixed with my juices. In no way did it ease the throbbing ache in my pulsing slit, but nonetheless made me slightly drool in anticipation. I tried not to lose balance as I continued groping my tan breasts, pressing down on my areoles and squeezing my ebony nipples. Angie departed from his mouth for a split second, taking a heavy breath before doing it again, this time with both hands on her tits to massage them. Before Kaito could come into my vagina and fill me up there, I shifted gears and moved back down and bent my knees between his legs. Holding his drenched, filled with precum cock with my petite fingers, I began stroking up and down in hope of seeing his long-awaited ejaculation. Blood raced to my head, thinking how insane I was to do this. Angie stopped sitting in front of Kaito and started to squat so he could see me pump his sweet length and the looming pussy above. I saw her bring her hands down to her vagina and open up the fleshy folds, from there sticking as many fingers as she could in and out. “Stop, Angie! Both of you Angies!” His coughing pleas fell deaf to both of us as we continued to enjoy Atua’s blessings. Kaito wasn’t going to be done so easily, huh? Since he was so dedicated to not to come, it was time to pull the last straw. I freed his cock for a moment, only to pucker my lips and salivate. “You finally said my name!” Ah, I was so elated to hear it not from Angie! Deeply lost in that euphoria, I held no more hesitation and flicked my tongue up his frenulum, and then embraced his pride. Though slightly salty, I neglected thinking negatively about the taste and focused my sight on Kaito. Inside my mouth, I continuously licked the top of his cock like savory ice cream. His firm rod, standing proudly in my mouth, caring not that I was Shuichi, oh Atua! Ineffable, pleasurable tickles flourished in my engorged pussy as I felt a trail of its transparent goodness escape me. I made sure not to use teeth, keeping my lips apart. With one hand, I started to rub the lower half of his scrumptious penis, and with the other, I wrapped it around his testicles and applied pressure every few seconds. I glimpsed up to see his cringing face stutter to form an audible sentence. Nyahaha! Considering his eyes were squinting and he bit his lip, he was done now! “Shit, shit! I’m coming!” And so his vicious semen flung at my palate, making me flinch and free his squirting dick. More of his cum wildly erupted out of his ever hard cock, naughtily landing all over my face and the floor. It mixed into my white hair, leaving visible milky trails from my forehead down. I choked at the newfound, sticky fluids in my mouth, doing my best to swallow but failing as it leaked out. I smelled the exaggerated aroma, which already left his masculine scent over me. Furiously licking the insides of my mouth, I tasted his warm, bittersweet cum everywhere. To think I’d lose these privileges eventually! I wanted another round, but approaching dull sores said otherwise. As he came, so did Angie, who fell backward. She regained composure after a few seconds, having a taste of her own fluids while she watched our wet situation. The liquid overflowed down his penis, which I scooped up and sucked from my dainty fingers. I brought my hands back to his shaft for one final, thirsty lick. Kaito laid motionless, in a pool of profuse sweat and exhaustion. In contrast, I rolled out my tongue and went all around my lips until every drop on that area was sanitary, all the while complimenting Atua and how she gave us this pleasure. “One last goodbye gift!” I announced, trying to accumulate my energy. I undid the two ropes trapping his two hands, and excitedly brought both near my body. Fortunately, their motionlessness meant I could have even more fun! Gripping one hand’s muscular wrist tightly, I rubbed it against my plump breasts while pushing the orbs forward to invigorate myself. With the other, I grinned as I stuck two of its fingers down my shuddering pussy, finally curing that insatiable tickle. The gift for both of us was my second orgasm, easily triggered due to keeping my pleasure below that heavenly level. The similar spasms and numbness were ordinary symptoms that gave way to my numerous moans and minor spill of my already present juice. I exhaled slowly as I pulled his fingers out, laughing at how unresponsive he became. “Well, how’s it taste? Creamy, sweet, sour, hmm? Hm?” The borderline virgin didn’t even look at me. I tried to be light-hearted, but he wouldn’t appreciate the work of Atua! I let go of his hand that touched my boobs and raised his mouth, sticking his fingers in. Even if he didn’t lick it, his buds must’ve reacted. That was enough for me. “Hey! Let’s go to my lab, ‘cause I wanna see your artwork!” The other Ultimate Artist completed suckling on her index finger, standing up and basking in the fluorescent light. The waft of semen and sex permeated the dorm as she spoke. “Oh! That’s a great idea!” I chirped as Angie handed me my duplicate set of clothing. Putting them on was still a hassle, but it was my first day as her anyway. Once we adorned our identical outfits, we looked at Kaito’s blank eyes. “Ah! Kaito,” I bent down with a shadow on my forehead, “I’m going to spread peace and stop Monokuma in his tracks. Don’t stop me.” We undid his other ropes and threw them on our shoulders, heading towards the door. Before closing it, I decided to see if Kaito was doing anything. He was already upright despite how fatigued he was before and after our debauchery, but due to how he was strapped down, his jacket’s back faced us as he refused to look back at the door. I couldn’t see his expression, but deep down, I hoped he was okay and not angry at me. I recall how he appeared sick when we chatted in the morning. --- We ventured back to her dorm to prepare for the ritual using the Necronomicon, which apparently required those wax figures. The two of us struggled to hold two each, barely clinging on to the perfect sculptures using the rope. Any challenge is beatable with Atua, we confidently told each other as we left the dormitory. “Did you enjoy Kaito and Atua?” Angie asked while we rode up the polka-dotted staircase, cleaning the last traces of Kaito’s semen off my cheek. “Yep!” A hollow feeling in my chest resonated after I gave the simple affirmation. Did I do something wrong to Atua? No, it wasn't her disgusted by my actions. It was me. I still don’t understand what I did wrong, though. Our small talk ensued, from how to wear women’s clothing, to how to recruit Atua without forceful intercourse. The moment we reached the research lab’s door, a sigh left us as we temporarily set the effigies on the floor. Angie went inside first, holding the door open for me to enter and keep our precious goods intact. Inside, she clapped her hands together at the enormous white sheet stained with black paint. “So abstract, it’s amazing! Praise be to Atua!” I saw her examine the mismatched shapes of paint by forming a rectangle with her hands. I’m never going to get tired of her satisfaction, her poses, everything! Being around her has made me more cheery than I was as the Ultimate Detective, without a doubt. “Praise Atua!” There was no bitterness in speaking about Her. I rested the four effigies against the rear door, leaving it up to Angie on how she was going to arrange it. The bundles of rope also gathered on the wide table that once had my canvas. “Hmm.. Atua needs to do some finishing touches on them before I do the ritual, so let’s talk about the student council!” The fresh thoughts from those words hit me. Angie was the president, wasn’t she? And if that were the case, I’m the president too! Today is the luckiest day of my life! “What about it—“ The floor monitor burst into life before I could finish my sentence. A couple of robotic bear cubs, our captors promptly called Monokubs, sat on a couch and told us nighttime officially begun. Anyway, I returned to my question. “What do I do as president?” “Nothing much. We just establish rules based on what Atua wants.” Simple enough. The only people who have the best connection to Her are us, after all. Angie peered down again at the art, twirling a paintbrush. I didn’t have a lot to do in our lab, in contrast to all of her tasks. “I don’t have a lot to do. Maybe I could monitor the school with the other members? Since it’s night, everyone else needs to go back to their dorms, right?”

“Good idea! When you go, I’ll only open this door to the council, so knock and say who you are!” Interesting. I’ll have to pick up that habit as Angie whenever I go inside the lab to work.

Again, I skipped down the school and began my lonesome duty as the student council’s president. Wandering inside the school in silence was surreal. I really had no desires, to Atua’s and my delight. Looking at some of the research labs, I reminisced how they dramatically came when I used unique objects given by the Monokubs. Ah, no. That was Shuichi who did all the work! Memories of him walking around, placing them and seeing their formation, that was my imagination. Of course.

Outside the main school’s door, I decided to check the backyard behind the building. I walked down the dirt, unfinished path, hearing no cricket of bugs despite the grassy landscape surrounding me. Only the scratching of my white shoes brought me comfort, for each step was as angelic as Atua. When no one was inside the mossy structure or the courtyard in front of the dormitory, I left for the stairs leading to labs of more students.

Down there, I spotted a luxurious red door taunting me from across the stairs. It was the Shrine of Judgment, and inside was where the class trials that killed our friends were held. If I kept this up, as in reinforcing the council’s regulations for peace, then none of us would have to go to that forsaken place any longer. I wouldn’t have to use my previous talent as a detective, meaning I could live out my happy days here as an artist. With that reassurance, I looked around and spotted someone.

“Nyeh? Angie?” The Ultimate Magician, Himiko Yumeno, was standing on the oriental floor beams of the Ultimate Aikido Master’s lab. Noticing her small body, I walked to her with a grin.

“Ah! Hi, Himiko!” I extended my left hand up to wave. She had a look of puzzlement as she inspected my form, but nevertheless, I saw her jubilance to see me. Atua was truly a benevolent deity to make her, a person as lively as a mannequin, feel that emotion.

“I thought you’d be in your lab for the ritual..?”  Did she not know there were two Angies? Assuming she didn’t, I fixed her black wizard-like hat and patted it. From that motion, her face contorted to a sly half-smile.

“I’ll go soon. You can go ahead first.” I ran my hands through her short, almost bowl cut, mildly long red hair.

“Sure. But I’m a little curious why you’re missing your necklace.”

“Huh? I lost it, that’s all.” I answered, bending my arm up so my was palm facing me. I couldn’t tell her the truth of my transformation; I insisted to myself that would be the real Angie’s responsibility.

“Oh, ok. Bye, then.”

With that, she went up and staircase and out of my sight, letting her jester-like shoes echo in the still night. Her comment, however, did not leave and remained in my mind. I really needed her accessories, because, at this rate, I would never fully be her. After finishing that thought, I headed right to another lab and inspected the interior and exterior for a decent thirty minutes to rummage through anything that could’ve been catalysts of desires. All I found, though, were just schematics of seemingly alien writing. I left with a vapid sting on my tongue. Considering I was done with surveying the school for people, I climbed up the staircase to go back to my lab.

“Hey. Are you Shuichi?” It was Maki Harukawa, the scary Ultimate Assassin now right in front of me! I said scary, yet I had a tinge of pity when I saw her. “Who that’s, I wonder?” She didn’t look very happy when I said that. Her body, which was in a red and black school uniform, was already facing sideways, head down, with a frown on her face, but now a dangerous aura burned the cold around her. To confirm something, she stared at my dark-skinned navel and sighed. My guess was correct as soon as she grabbed my shoulder with her thin pale hand, hellbent on taking me to the courtyard. Her rather long, dark brown hair was visible from my perspective, stretching down to her knees and only controlled with two maroon scrunchies. What a peculiar girl.

An array of stars illuminated the sky, stealing my attention I looked up to defy her. Their plentiful amount was all thanks to Atua, I thought. I suppose I took notice of them now to spite the assassin. “Don’t you think you should admire Atua’s stars?” “Don’t you think you should drop this delusional façade? Kaito told me everything.” My heart and body remained still for a split second. It hit me that I had sex with him practically moments ago. Suddenly, the stars I lost myself in threw me back to the surface. It didn’t fully occur to me what I did to Kaito, that I raped him. Ra.. Rape? No, that’s wrong! It was for Atua! Maki’s pulling stopped as she looked at me with deep crimson eyes. “Shuichi. We’re here.” I stood motionless on the courtyard, footwear soundless on the warm-colored tiles. There, on a bench shielded by an open-roofed cover, was the Ultimate Astronaut. “Yo, Shuichi.” Why.. why was he still lively? I had sex with him, didn’t I? Wasn’t he sick? My mind began racing, like a car on an open road. Atua disappeared from my senses as if driven out by the accursed truth. Kaito sat with an open smile, in his usual stance with one arm being inside his galactic purple jacket while the other hid under it, not actually inside. His unbuttoned, white school uniform was covering the shirt. As we all had spare clothing, he probably discarded the one I tore apart. “Let’s all sit on the grass. We can have a talk instead of training.” I didn’t ever train with them, but I knew Maki always outsped Kaito and me in push-ups. Dammit! I need to be Angie, not him! I sat on the grass with them, determined to persuade them Shuichi was no more. “Nyah-ahahaha!” I calmed myself with a boisterous laugh to their surprise, “Sorry, sorry! Me, Shuichi? Nuh-uh! What a lie!”

“What’s so funny?” Maki gave me a grave look, her face drowned in blue hatred. Kaito had to wrap his arm around her to remove the grimace.

He gave an arrogant thumbs-up at her, treating me as if I wasn’t there. Sat cross-legged, he didn’t dare to turn to me. “It’s fine, Maki Roll. I got this.” “What you said, I mean.” I returned to her statement. “Just look at me! Angie is Angie one hundred percent!” I flashed my robe, but it felt much too droopy for my liking. I wasn’t accustomed to these clothes, so why did I insist I was Angie? No, I can’t think like that. These two are trying to crawl into my mind.. and I don’t want them to see who I really am.

“Stop talking nonsense. If you’re Angie, what are your parents’ names?” Knees up to her chest, she inquired. I couldn’t answer that! Angie didn’t tell me because I was still learning to be her, so I repeated, “I’m definitely Angie, there’s no—“ “Do you just want to be her? Do you want to die?” Normally, that last statement tended to be a joke. For me, the phrase was borderline threatening my fragile life. Angie’s life.

Why didn’t I have my accessories? Because the real Angie only had.. why am I calling her real all this time? We’re both real Angies, aren’t we? I can’t be Shuichi.. but I can’t think of anyone else I could be.

“Shuichi wouldn’t have sex with Kaito! He’d feel bad! I.. I don’t at all! I loved it!” It was a mixture of the two juxtaposed emotions. That was actually more disgusting than pleasurable, now that I think about it. I’m not homosexual, so why would I..?

Dammit! I’m not a fraud, I have to be Angie!

“Shuichi, you don’t need to be afraid. You’re my bro. You’re Maki Roll’s bro too.” Maki had a thin smile of amusement. Seeing that hidden expression of happiness.. made me remember she was a human whose childhood was stripped away. But I still kept lying, excuses more hopeless than the Ultimate Supreme Leader’s jests.

“I’m not afraid! I have Atua.. and she says being Shuichi is imposs—” I never finished my lie, because Kaito struck my navel with a fist faster than the speed of light. I didn’t realize how short our distance closed in, but when he brought back his hand, I began wheezing in an unladylike manner. Moments ago, I sat with folded legs, but now I was bent over struggling to breathe.

“Kaito!” I saw that the pale girl ahead of me broke into a missable sweat, speeding over but stopping with no idea how to handle me.

My body was trembling, and trying to seize control only worsened it. I’ve felt this too many times to ignore it. Those times it happened.. was when I descended down to the trial grounds as Shuichi. No! I know I used to be him, but now—huh? That’s not right. Why was I denying it to begin, actually?

“I’ll make the impossible possible! If I’ve got to hit a girl, I’ll do it, but it’s Shuichi we’re talking about!” It was me.. me, Shuichi Saihara..

The real, not me, Angie’s loving grasp and words, the same aspects that brought me into that peaceful landscape, disappeared. Her lies of calling me Angie washed away as I regained some of my composure and breathing. I remember now. Hah.. I pitifully smiled at my own thoughts. Kaede was never Atua. Kaede was always in my heart as Kaede. It was Angie who corrupted that, with her seductive words. And her promise.. was that we’d all leave together. This was, and will never be a harmonic paradise. As I descended back into reality, all of the fluffiness dissipated into the clouds.

“I’m so sorry, K-Kaito..” Tears. Droplets of fear and misery had their final reign as they fell from my crying eyes, never to come back. The warmth from sexual exploits was replaced by tantalizing fire.

I was so afraid. So afraid of killing any more people with the truth that I gave up and tried to be someone else. In the back of my mind, I knew it wouldn’t work. But I tried.

“It’s okay to cry after what happened.” I thought he tried to avoid looking at me, but I was the one to avoid his gaze. All this time, he was shining with hope. I was an utter idiot for trying to think I could stay away from his cheerfulness. I had sex with Kaito! I masturbated as Angie! What was I thinking?!

My indecent memory of raping Kaito was more akin to a hallucination because I drowned out all logic by convincing myself meant ignoring reality. It didn't even feel like I was the perpetrator, but rather a spectator to the atrocity. Who was I anymore? I can’t be Angie. I just can’t. And I’ll never see myself in the mirror and say, “Oh, that’s me alright. Shuichi Saihara.” My mental health surely lowered from this.. How am I even sane?

“I can’t go back to myself.. I’ll never see myself in reflections again.” I put my hands on my face, feeling how foreign the overall structure of it was. This wasn’t my body. Angie was surely not going to reverse my form, and probably couldn’t anyway. I was going to be in her shadow forever, bearing an identity that will always be traced back to her.

“To not even know who you are.. we share common ground.” I could feel Maki’s presence next to my body, sighing as she spoke.

“Yeah, seriously! It sucks not to be you!” Kaito broke the depressing change of tone, taking my hands and moving them out of my face. I saw him take a stance and smash his fists together, opening his mouth and revealed his teeth. His eyebrows boosted confidence as he vented, “But the past is over! What you do now in Angie’s body matters most!”

“Now..?” I was sobbing less, cleaning my wet palms with Angie’s gaudy robe.

“Uh-huh! You’ve got to share your feelings with others, not bottle them up with a dumb persona! You won’t get strong that way!” His attitude spoke to both of us. Share my feelings.. that does sound better.

“Y-Yeah.” Rubbing the remains of my tears, I did my best to smile. Not an empty, blind smile, but one that held hope for the future.

“Surprising you only realize this now. I knew it. Angie really is dangerous.” She walked back to Kaito, brushing off a bit of side hair. Angie Yonaga.. just what was she to be able to drastically change me, physically and mentally?

Bringing her focus back to Kaito, she lightly shut her eyes, brought her head down, and muttered, “So the idiot has some merit. Now that we’re done here, let’s go back to your dorm to get you back into shape.”

She extended a hand, which I gratefully took. With the astronaut behind us, she led us to my room. I glanced at the pixelated image of myself. I will never forget who I am for all of the people who’ve died here. Repeating those words of wisdom, I unlocked the door and saw my housing, which of course was unchanged. Home sweet home.

Maki opened up the closet and began to pull out my normal clothes. While she did that, Kaito and I sat on my bed, me blankly gazing at the wall. The basic function of sitting became new again. Angie’s butt was perky for the worse.

“But you know, Kaito,” He looked at me, tilting his head to listen, “it didn’t feel bad to have no truths or worries, and a shoulder to lean on.” Atua was a fickle one. He was built to relate to all of our humanly needs, and he definitely succeeded in converting a decent chunk of us, including me.

“Shuichi. The truth is why we’re alive. I hate to sound greedy, but you wouldn’t want Kaede to survive thinking how all of us died for her, right? Blame those damn bears who forced us here. They killed Kaede and Kirumi.” Without hesitation, he pulled me close with a stern expression. When Maki looked back at us, we stepped out so she could put my clothes on the bedsheet.

“Get out, Kaito. I know you’ve seen him naked, but don’t turn that into a habit.” She pouted, pulling one side of her hair and stroking it. Was she.. blushing? Blushing at what?

“Alright. See you on the other side, bro!” He darted out the door, ending his goodbye the same moment the door was closed.

Maki sat down in the same place Kaito was in, squeezing the sheets below her with her hands. I didn’t feel as embarrassed to be alone with a girl, though I suppose turning into one helped me resolved that shyness.

“Hmph. Idiot.” She puffed and then tapped my hand, “So are you going to change back or not?”

“Oh, yeah, I will.” Her wine red eyes followed me as I prepared to strip.

The first on the list was this robe, much too open for comfort. My hand shook as I unraveled the yellow fabric, showing off my minuscule shoulders. On second glance, they appeared smooth to the touch. As I revealed my other shoulder, I couldn’t help but look in awe at their dainty stature. When I tapped them with my hand, even that was smooth. Realizing what I was doing, my cheeks reddened. This.. is a girl’s body.

“What are you doing?” Maki frowned, eyes in curiosity as mole under one of them followed.

“N-Nothing!” I exclaimed, taking cover my wrapping my arms around my body.

I wish the mere act of undressing remained simple. Angie’s figure was just too distracting! It was the equivalent of being reborn again, for I became a stranger to myself. Also, speaking of covering my body in embarrassment, my two breasts forced me to look down. The orbs were of a fine brown shade, and supple to indicate healthiness. I lived with a flat, pale chest all my life, and now I had two jewels to carry. My blush deepened, making me sweat. I tried looking up to avoid their sexual aura, but the quick jerk caused a jiggle that had me look back down and then back up. Why was I realizing my tempting assets now?!

“You’re embarrassed?” I closed my eyes and nodded, heat building up in my ears. She then asked, “Didn’t you do.. it..? With Kaito?”

“Y-Yeah, but it didn’t feel wrong at the time!” Even my crying was feminine, and it was especially casual unlike before.

“.. I’ll help, I guess. Close your eyes.” I followed her words, shutting them as hard as I could.

From there, I felt her body and its scent emit on all sides of my body. Something tugged at my upper chest in an attempt to undo Angie’s white bra. Thin fabric danced around my back until it was miraculously free, causing the pad-like cups on my busty chest to stick off. With my.. my nipples unleashed to the cold, I felt myself shiver to the sensation.

I distinctly felt the pair individually for they were apart of my body. As a man, the only extension of my body was really my genitalia. But now the sheer weight and mildly cold liberation forced my eyes to open just a tidbit; but from that instinctive glance down, I jolted my eyes in surprise. Black buds of undeniably erect nipples stood out from my tan boobs, sensitive to the touch. Maki, being behind me, couldn’t see my amazement. I did look at my assets occasionally when I came back to my senses, but I couldn’t help to glue my eyes on those succulent spheres. If I didn’t have a vagina, I would be hard down there instead of up here.

Wait, I have a vagina now? Memories of using it came back, including how I almost stuck Kaito’s thick cock into.. No! I do not want to be in this situation or remember my past sins! Trying to prevent the gun of man’s passion being shot, I threw my hands back to my breasts since they were raised before. It was too late, because the shot was already heard around the world. My hands, the ones Angie used when making art, felt my nipples poke at them. I froze, feeling lightheaded at them.

“What am I doing?!” I turned back and jumped on my bed, careful not to hit Maki as I dove headfirst and covered my embarrassment. Like a swimmer, I bent my legs up and down while slapping my cheeks. Through this, I realized how long my hair was, and how it tickled my fingers in its silver vastness.

“I haven’t enough taken off Angie’s panties.” She stopped for a second. “Well, maybe I don’t have to.”

“If you don’t, please don’t. I’d rather avoid looking down there for as long as possible.” I would either bring myself to look down there or be trapped in female undergarments. Either path inevitably turned me into a deeper pervert.

“‘Don’t be afraid.’ Kaito said that. To be blunt, get used to this body.” It seemed she preferred I see my new sex organ. Slowly rolling over to lay on my back, I came face to face with my dark-skinned breasts. Angie’s curvaceous ass was so disruptive, taking up more space than I wanted on the bed. There was no extent to my body temperature as I crossed my legs in growing embarrassment, Maki off the bed and preparing to take my panties off.

“Do it.. gently.” I begged, organizing my hair strands. I decided to adopt Maki’s way of toying with her own, taking one twintail and twirling it around. Speaking of that, was I going to style my hair like the real Angie?

Nevertheless, Maki crept downward to do the dirty deed. With her two hands, trained to kill, she did her best to keep me relaxed by holding onto the sides and softly pulling them. Her sluggish maneuver managed to be teasing as every second wanted me to do something, anything to stop feeling so empty. As she opened up my vagina to the cold, I swear the inner pink flesh puckered. Imagining it so left me with desires I would do best not to fulfill. Even with my obstructive pair, I saw the end as they touched my feet, the frilly parts leaving me vibrating in disbelief.

“Uh.. C-Can you tell me what it looks like down there?” As a man, I had to know. I thought it would be easy to spot, but raising my head provided nothing except shaven hair.

“A little wet. If you’re going to tell me to finger it next.. don’t.” The moisture tingling down there and urge in back of my head was equivalent to an erection, then. No longer would I feel anything grace my penis’ head as it stood full mast. Only the new hollowness in my crotch and the wide gap between my rounded thighs would be present when I masturbated.

“Put your own underwear and clothes on. They’re not new, so you shouldn’t be hesitant.” The set was adjacent to me, forcing me to reluctantly stand up. I think Angie’s footwear fell off when I threw myself on the bed, as my small feet touched the ground. I didn’t have to look down to feel the decreased space my feet covered, and in addition, the freezing temperature actually outlined its perimeter.

I finally reunited with my iconic clothing once I took my attention off my lower body. Most life aspects became new, but luckily these were unscathed. The black trousers were in conjunction with my same-colored, tight collared school uniform. I wasted no time in fitting my pants on, but I learned Angie was still present.

For one, our height difference proved obnoxious. My familiar pants reached down to my soles, and I had trouble fitting them around my wide waist. When I tried to put on my white undershirt, the same applied as it shrouded part of my legs. The black uniform became more wrinkled, only retaining its stiffness on my sizable chest. I had to pull my twintails out, unsure of what to do with them.

It was jarring to think of my new form, considering the bleakness of the jet black colors in contrast to my browner skin and long hair. And plus, it wasn’t attire suitable for my gender either. I pulled through, despite the laughable differences, because this was my prized outfit that I don’t want to lose again. Maki was focused on Angie’s panties for the duration and turned to me after I finished.

“They’re just different from my side-tied panties. Not graceful at all.” She set them on my shelf with the plethora of hidden Monokumas.

“.. Good to know.” I closed my eyes, then unleashing my mouth to comment, “You can call Kaito back in.”

She opened the door, calling out his name for a second before he appeared from the corner. He brushed off some debris from his light purple pants before looking at me, and then smiled like he did all those other times.

“Looking good! Now you’re back in business!” His contagious smile and thumbs-up made another appearance. I was fond of the gesture now and gave my own satisfied look.

“Thanks, Kaito. You too, Maki.”

“Of course. Since this dilemma sprang up, we might as well train tomorrow.” Maki offered, lacking her set of emotions. We’d eventually see that side of her, Kaito and I. That was a promise I made to him, and I’m not going to break it.

“Well, Maki Roll’s not wrong one bit.” He grabbed her arm without warning, shouting, “Let’s go!”

On the other, less excited hand, she told me, “I have to warn you of monthly periods. They’re terrible.” Oh.

“Hey, leave on a good note. Alright! You’re Shuichi Saihara before anything else. Never forget that! Catch ya later!” Pulling a red-tinted Maki by the shoulder, romantically at that, the door was shut one final time. Maybe we were starting to get into her.

Turning to my bed, I decided to gather Angie’s clothes and hang them up in my closet as a memento. She changed my life for the better and worse. With spirit, I collapsed on my sentimental mattress in its splendor. In the course of a single day, I became Angie, dabbled in sex, and cried at the truth. I was looking forward to the future, to the end of this killing game. The present was my stepping stone of hope. Tomorrow, I’ll tell Angie I won’t be hers or Atua’s. Tomorrow, I’ll show everyone who I am now and that they should still treat me as the Ultimate Detective.

Scary Monsters & Super Creeps

Features bodysuits and gender bending.

Warning: This features graphic depictions of violence and identity loss.

The soft crinkle of rusty leaves rang throughout the autumn night. Origin of the sound was a person carrying a holstered gun who stopped crushing them at the sight of a wooden fence protecting the backyard of a house. He climbed over with ease, but his more notable achievement was scaling the wall and entering by breaking a window. There, relaxed in a bed, slept a teenager who now found his peace shattered. Despite screaming, the invader nevertheless silenced him in a mere second, ran to another room to grab something, and bolted. The local police never found the man. How he even got inside was one mystery, but why he supposedly did not take anything or murder was far more perplexing. The boy told them it was inhuman, that some sort of animal had crashed into the house, but such an unbelievable story fell on deaf ears. His older brother was the opposite, accepting it immediately. He told him his secretive experiment finally had a hole, that someone in the world broke his trust and the government’s trust. With ease, and with the engineering brother’s fervent knowledge, the government deduced him as Albany Peterson. Albany was a former marine and a childhood companion of the brother, Nathanael. Never was he out of line, showed malicious intent, or appeared heartless. He was always known as protective and loving of nature, but now, Nathanael cast those memories behind. This project was his magnum opus, his only chance at the history books. Out of self-infatuation and fear for his family’s safety, Nathanael requested for the government to kill him. His plea was heard, but the decree was already set that he would be tracked down and killed as his trust was broken, meaning nothing stopped him from spilling out the secret of bodysuits. For this special mission, a hitman was selected by Nathanael himself. He was provided a costume gun to use as a disguise, to allow multiple identities and less chance of tracking. The brother was able to contact him for a short talk. Situated in his workplace, he made sure to speak his words carefully with him. The two sat opposite on a wooden table that was removed of stains or scars, making it unnaturally spotless. Their conversation began after Nathanael spent a minute or two meticulously making his beverage.

“John Oates. It’s a pleasure to have your expertise—” Before he could speak any more good will, the hired gun brought his index finger to Nathanael’s face and snarled.

“I don’t need your pat on my back. If you’re trying to be nice, quit it. I know you’ve put the most effort into those god damn bodysuits.” He spat, his head slightly to the side during delivery.

“I wanted to take things slowly before talking about those, but I see now.” Nathanael took a sip from his stone mug, and when he put focus on the hitman he saw his menacing gaze look back.

“Pfft.”

“There’s a reason I chose you for this. You hate the bodysuit technology. On one of your assignments, an illegal company manufacturing bodysuits without using the costume gun had one of their men disguise themselves as a woman, lure you into someplace devoid of authority, and for your pride I won’t go further.”

“So you know everything. If you know, we’re done and I’m calling this off.” As he stood to leave, a taunting voice called back to him with.

“Do you not think you could utilize your emotions for the better? Catch this bodysuit criminal, and no one will have to go through what you’ve gone through.” John tilted his head back to see the mug meet the table once more.

“Albany is unreasonably cold. He’s smart with his military background, so you’re the only candidate available. Knowledge of bodysuits is something we’ve held back for years, and we wish to keep it that way. You’re one of the few ‘good guys’ who know.”

“Fine. Since you’re so eager about it, I’ll bite. But let me tell you this. You’ve been on my personal hit list for a long time.”

“I already know. I also know polonium-210 was put into my drink. Who knows who the culprit is, but I’d say it was a waste of fortune to use it.” The perpetrator sniggered.

John Oates, realizing he was not an easy kill, forced himself to continue listening to the run-down of the plan. He was told that the costume gun was capable of turning animals into suits, and that Albany  used this method to climb inside a whale due to being on a different continent. He timed his arrival to the Pacific shores at night to get out without any attention, turned the whale back to normal, and let it die beached. His plan held one flaw; whales decompose before showing up on beaches. The anomaly was uncertain for both the media and Nathanael’s team, and it wasn’t until Albany’s betrayal that they believed the two cases were linked. Now in the present, he relentlessly searched for three days in the immense city. The real problem was that Albany could easily leave the area, hide under a variety of personas, or any other plethora of tactics to stay low. John’s agitation led to his demands for other agents, more cameras, or simply anything. So Nathanael pulled together less professional operatives who had no knowledge of bodysuits, instead being told there was a anonymous killer on the loose. In fact, one of John Oates’ friend came on the case with him. The police were involved once more, though the case was put into vague terms as an unidentified person likely to murder due to a fabricated note that was forged by Nathanael. The news broadcasted a call to civilian action, that they should make sure to lock all doors and not wander alone at night. These were all pointless for the man wielding the versatile firearm, but instilling those practices helped decrease other crimes to be committed at the slight expense of increased fear. It took one week of hunting for a dead body to appear. At the edge of the city to the side of an ordinary highway before the morning commute, a pile of skin was scattered beside a bush. John was the first to find the disfigured bodysuit, stumbling upon it while driving around the area drunk. What was meant to be in one piece was instead cut up into six parts; the arms, legs, and head were separated. As there was no blood to flow in a bodysuit, the scene was devoid of it. Regardless, John vomited the instant he saw the warped pile, and could not believe his nightmare cycled back. There was no chance of bringing the victim back alive, as they would instantly die of blood loss. Connecting the skin like cloth would not work either. Yet, to preserve the secret of the technology, John was ordered to shoot him back to life so his body would be a mutilated corpse for the police to perform a hopeless autopsy on. He left before it fully formed. Later that day, around evening, John kept himself on a bar stool. He’d ordered five shots of beer by now, give or take, and was tipsy. The bar was an underground setting that barely held two visitors at a time. John made up one half this time, calling Nathanael to talk with him and fill in the remainder. He downed one more shot before Nathanael decided to tell him to give up and let someone else take arms, but John chuckled. “You want me to give up? That Albany killed my drinking buddy.” His rugged force contorted into a feral smile and he slammed a pint he was holding down. “I’ve known his family for years. For Christ’s sake, his wife gave birth to a baby girl a couple months ago,” The racket died down as he stuck fingers up to his forehead, another securing itself on his brown shaven beard, “and I’m the reason his kid won’t see her dad again since it’s going to be a closed casket.” At this, Nathanael slapped John at the shoulder. “Look, John. If you weren’t going to do it, someone else would’ve. If everybody didn’t want to, I’d do it.” Instead of quenching sadness, it fueled another emotion. “Hah, that says a lot about you! You know, you’re the reason why all this happened! You and your group made the costume gun, isn’t that what you said?” With some anxiety, the recipient nodded. “Now that’s got me thinking. Why don’t you go to the front lines? What, are you working on something that’ll fucking turn everything into a bodysuit?!” At this point, John stood back and pulled out the costume gun he was supplied. No one working on the mission had one except him. Even at the mercy of a trained killer, Nathanael was calm. He swiveled his chair to face him. The bartender behind both of them shook in horror at what unfolded and what could unfold next, so he laid below the shelves of alcohol. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I am under the government’s protection and they could be spying on us right now.” That made John even more enraged, that their practically omniscient surveillance failed to track down the most volatile killer. “Lemme tell you this. I miss my chap and drink lots, but don’t take me as a sore pushover. I’ll shoot you. For Daryl.” He aimed directly at the head, a talent instinctive after several years. Nathanael folded one leg over the other, taunting, “Then do it.” “Gladly.” What was meant to turn Nathanael into a crumbling mess was instead a shot that only made his body glow with electricity. Before John could comprehend why his shot was thrown away, a rectangular bottle of Jack Daniels bludgeoned his head, surely fracturing the back of his skull and destroying an artery. He fell with a spurt of blood following, and on the floor struggled to rise up against his attacker. When he finally did, he saw it was the bartender, for he was pridefully holding the bottle like a fresh kill. “The real Nathanael is probably out working, or maybe spending quality time with his younger brother.” The spectator moved out of his seat and leaned down at him. John’s breathing becoming bursts of a person running out of time. “Do you think I plan my crimes alone? Do you think I haven’t told anyone about this?” “Why..?” “A fine question,” He gave a curt cough, “It pains me to see anyone like this, so I’ll tell you.” “Why did I talk about Nathanael if I’m wearing him and he can’t do anything? Sure, the world Nathanael and his team are leading innovation together with their bodysuits” Albany answered himself, receiving nothing as a response. “But there are other companies. Other illegitimate workshops who’ve been working from scrappy blueprints that don’t use the costume gun. Thing is, they all lead back to the original production. When I broke into his house, I didn’t steal from his little brother and leave. I took a sample of good Nathan’s genetic code. A single strand of hair was all I needed.” John processed a few words. House. Steal. Genetic.

“You..” All he could do was say one thing, free of emotion. It was less voluntary and more automatic. “If he wasn’t home, then I’d put the other gun back, steal a random object, make obvious destruction, and leave. The most basic form of robbery.” He thought out loud. “You’re bleeding hard.” John was on the threshold of unconsciousness, with dull eyes missing the livid spark to avenge his companion. “You won’t die. You’ll live on.” He whistled at his accomplice to set the bar to “Closed.” “Did you get the bodysuit prepared?” They nodded, for some reason not using the voice. “This is from a costume gun. So’s the bartender’s.” In Albany’s hands was an extremely small disguise, a disheveled scrap with minimal details of a rat. John wanted to defend himself. Pull one last stand, take Albany down with him, but his body was coldly numb. He could only watch as they tore him naked and started stuffing him into the suit. Breaking scientific boundaries, his body gradually fit inside as it expanded further and further, looking like strained patches of fur. The composition of a rat is different from a human, so his legs were put at the rat’s hind legs and his arms at the front pair. His head was squashed into the dots of eyeholes, but with his entire body tightly inside, the magic had begun. He shrank within seconds, crushing all human bones into the thin skeletal frame of a rodent. Recovering from blunt trauma with a bodysuit did not solve the mental brain damage associated. Though true his new, minuscule brain was free of injury, it could not support every single thought and decision making. His cognitive functions were damaged enough by the harsh liquor, so assimilating to a more feral way of thinking suited the poor soul. “You’re so tiny! How cute.” The bartender squealed. John heard it all, knew of the sounds and their syllables, yet could not muster anything out of it. His humanity rivaled an infant’s. “If you have the cage, keep him there for the night.” So the fake bartender did. It wasn’t made of bars, but of plastic with a holed cover fit for insects and other vermin. John fit quite easily into his new habitat. With shop closed, the two slept on a table while the animal scurried about for sustenance. Next morning, Albany and his quiet helper decided to ditch the city. Before doing that, they brought the bartender back to life and slumped him against a stool. The helper, in their true form, held the rat. “I need to meet with a friend, though it shouldn’t take long. Hold John and wait outside.” She bowed at the request. As Albany left with both costume guns, he knew the murderous nature of his apprentice, who opened up the cage and squeezed the rat by their left hand once he left her view. Overnight, John lost all sense of humanity and was no different from a disgusting, multiplying sewer rat. The grip broke its bones, and now it was squirming for life. Without a care, she threw the rat out into the city street. There, it inched back and forth with tiny paws trying to live on. The pain was worse than the previous blow to the head, as the injured part removed some of the feelings. But for this, every single movement hurt: ruptured lungs gave no air and one foot was obliterated and would never move. Death finally came once a car destroyed all remaining parts, instantly killing the rat and its whining. Another flattened its scraggy corpse, and as time continued, it would probably resemble a random stain on the floor to be cleaned. No one would ever suspect it to be a bodysuit and even less, a human. After the gruesome act, she waited. She waited for nothing, and no one came.

--- By now, the real Nathanael sat on a rotating chair beside the dining table, facing the entrance. A knock on the door brought him up, and it opened up to a carbon copy of the engineer. This clone casually passed back his cell phone. “Done?” “Yes, I am. You really wanted John Oates gone since he was going to kill you eventually, but—” “It’s selfish, I know. On the other hand, I think I’m helping out the future generation.” The bigger picture began rolling in Nathanael’s mind. A world where no one could die with the blessing of bodysuits that reversed age. He thought of how those with amputations could have bodysuit recreations of themselves and wear them, or how a deaf person could use their imitation that was modified to having working vocal chords. All these good things, he told himself, came at a price of minor skirmishes such as John. “Our government works with the other global leaders, and they all control the so-called illegal bodysuits. I guess we’re all working together under a common goal.” “Quite the cycle.” Albany ripped his expensive bodysuit into pieces, shredding it like fabric all over the doormat; the polonium no longer poisoned him. His true, staggering height of six feet and more blasted through the undersized disguise. He was in a full set of luxury clothing shadowed by a charred tuxedo jacket with a tone of skin covered in blemishes that came with old age.

“Quite.” The two of them picked up the remains, which Nathanael would later burn.

“This is my last gift to you.” The gray-haired elder passed one costume gun back. He looked back at his friend with sullen, aged eyes.

“It’s the end of the line for me, Nathan. I did for you as payment for how much you’ve helped me in the past.” But he shook his head, rejecting the manners.

“I don’t know if I can call this payment. You told me your plan to get the entire world to hate you, trash part of my house, and it succeeded. But for what purpose?” This revelation of emotions made his eyes averted from his friend, but two wrinkled hands brought his attention back to Albany’s selfless expression.

“My reasoning is simple. Human desires. Material greed, an urge to love, to grow smart, having knack or addiction for killing; it’s unhealthy for a human to live that way. Maybe it sounds too old-timey for you youthful progressivists, but I’m leaving those behind. As a marine, I was rash. Violence and sex were all I thought of. How I wasn’t labeled mentally ill was as crazy as my head back then. For years I wanted to get away from the life I made when they finally decommissioned me.”

“So the costume guns were your new hope.”

“My godsend. When I depart from you, my friend, I’m going to sail away in a dolphin to a deserted island. I’ll live the rest of my days untouched and in a tropical utopia, a home by the sea. It’ll be enough time to think about all of my sins. John Oates, my daughter, I’ve harmed too many.”

“I see.” The old man gave a half-smile as the other let out of a tear. Everything that occurred today, unprecedented or planned, was too much for Nathanael.

“This is a lot to hear from a person you’ve respected, isn’t it? I apologize.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Then I suppose I’m done here then. Enjoy the future, Nathanael. You’ll be on your own in this big world.” Nathanael hadn’t realized the two were standing so close to the door until it was closed on him. Thereafter, he remained still. Upstairs, his little brother overheard the end of the ruckus and flew down the wooden steps.

“What was that all about?” Wiping off any remaining tears, Nathanael casually responded with life-changing words.

Gunning for a Piece

Features human bodysuits and male to female gender bending.

You laid down your weapon against the milky bed sheet, its metallic lime coat reflecting snowy, almost viscous, waves. The weight of it dragged down the cloth all the way to its equally soft mattress, creating a depression on your bed. You glanced at the placed object. Strikingly similar to a nine millimeter handgun, the only offset that it wasn't the gunpowder variant were the neon colors in contrast to the default grayscale. That served to help, as wielding it in public gave the idea it was a simple prop or a child's water gun. Though, innocent as it looked, it wasn't an ordinary item that anyone could get their hands on. It was a gift from your older brother, a professional engineer who worked alongside the government and several scientists to produce the rough draft that was relaxing on your bed. He called it a costume gun, and one could say its capabilities were quite inhumane and illegal. The gun has a low range of three meters, but every shot is similar to a noiseless beam. Ammunition is finite, as the firearm is powered by electricity; you would have to send this back to your brother for a refill. Whoever is hit suffers no physical or mental damage, but instead becomes a human bodysuit, essentially a human body missing all of its innards. The suit has a straight opening on the back, allowing a person to crawl into the skin. It has a limit of one person at a time, so shooting another person when someone else has already become a suit would do nothing. Taking control of a human and having access to their life is quite illegal and intrusive, so your brother avoided this by deciding with his co-workers and higher authorities that to ensure the technology would be kept secret, the general public having no idea it existed and any models hopefully dispersed to the right hands. As an impressionable teenager, it was safe to say your rebellious nature and developing maturity was definitely a contradiction to putting the weapon in the right hands. But there were rules to kept people such as yourself at bay. For one, doing anything illegal inside the bodysuit would give the wearer a massive penalty. Another rule was that any currency spent would be from the one wielding the costume gun, meaning no foul play with anyone's funds. Telling any individual who has no affiliation with the innovators and thus does not know about the costume gun was also a strict regulation. You were limited to using the firearm in privacy, as publicly use would evidently cause panic. Lastly, it was important to not shoot yourself. Otherwise, someone else would have to use the gun to bring you back. If any of these rules were to be broken and caught on camera, you would have the costume gun taken away forever, be it your brother or the authorities. You didn't intend to cause harm with whoever you wore, but you knew not all people could be on their best behavior with this revolutionary tool. With all that set in stone, you threw yourself on the silky landscape and rested your arms above your head, making sure the gun or a stray pillow didn’t obstruct your landing. Staring at the concrete ceiling, your eyes trailed across the white ocean of stillness while afternoon sunshine illuminated the room with a golden glow. Your normal lifestyle would’ve had you stripped naked while taking naps in the middle of the summer, but today would not result in sleeping. “I'm not going to do anything illegal.” Your gentle, ladylike voice was left devoid of a response, sounding as polished as the bedsheets. Shifting your body to let your back face the ceiling, it was high time to get on to checking yourself out again. The girlish body mirror she had in her room would finely fulfill that task. One leg bent upward, dragging the blanket along to stretch out your tanned ass. It had the imprint of a one piece swimsuit, your female goods in stark contrast to your light-toned brown body. You raised your upper body to lift up small breasts out of the white terrain, moving your head upward in the process. Putting your left hand underneath your chin, you could finally see the body mirror that shamelessly reflected your vagina and its conspicuous labia. Though, the person in the mirror wasn't truly your own, original body. You weren't born as a girl, of course. The person in the mirror was your fellow classmate and first victim of the costume gun, her full name being Anya Khouri; it leaked of Egyptian root. The two of you barely interacted, but both parties knew of each other's existence. But how did you find her and safely turn her into a bodysuit? Simply put, she was also a victim of circumstance. The season of summer meant school was on a break, and Anya had a reputation of being a prodigy swimmer. Slender arms, despite their appearance, cut through chlorine waters easily to end every competition with her team's victory. A talent like that required honing, and the pool she constantly practiced in was coincidentally near your house. You and your friends would occasionally find yourselves there, as it was an unpopular spot due to a fabricated rumor of some sort of vengeful spirit haunting the premise. She must’ve taken the low visitor count to concentrate, as you would see her alone on a different lane every time your friend group arrived. Not only that, you two had exchanged addresses once for a school project, making impersonation easier to do. With those aspects in mind, she was the first person you thought of using the costume gun on. You planned a specific date and time to turn her into a suit, coming in during the weekdays before noon. Luckily, there were no poolside showers in the area, as it would conflict with what you had in mind. When the time to strike came, your plan came into fruition without any hurdles. Equipped with some basic swimming shorts and other necessities, you could fabricate the idea that you were genuinely planning to swim. You knew the lifeguard was always off this hour, but they wouldn’t have to worry about protecting a certain girl that always frequented there.

---

The clattering of caramel sandals protected your feet from scorching concrete as the pair made its way to an isolated lane. You stared blankly at the scenery ahead of you, soon focusing your attention on the teenager gliding through the water. Blazing sunbeams coated your body in sweat, and approaching a girl made your teenager hormones shudder. Nevertheless, you stuck yourself back to the plan. All of your belongings were safeguarded in a locker, leaving you with what could be fit inside the pocket of trunks. “Hey! Can I ask you something?” You did your best to play the part of a naïve, boisterous teenager. On the other side, you could see that Anya looked back to see the voice. Dressed in her black school swimsuit, her head rose from the water to respond. “Y-yes?” Her feet wove through the pool, keeping her perfectly afloat. She had taken off her goggles and swim cap, revealing the feminine beauty underneath. “You’re Anya, right? Don't we go to the same high school?” Building up a peaceful conversation was your idea of lessening your hesitation. “Yes.” Her answer was lower this time, but you paid little attention as you finally got to the point. “Well, I was just wondering, do you know where the public showers are?” The idea was to be chaperoned by her to that distant place and use the gun. You already knew how close it was from your position and had been there multiple times, so now you were praying she didn’t she you during any of those. “Oh, you would take a left, then a right, and—” “Ah, I'm not really good at that direction stuff. Can you take me there?” “I could take a break, I guess.” She quickly brought herself out of the water, deciding not to use a towel to dry off. Her suntanned skin welcomed the heat, glistening from the pellets of clear water. It would’ve been easier on her to reject your plea for help, but she was a model athlete. You could see her bend down to grab something, but the distance was too far for your eyes. Now that the hard part was done, all you needed to do was let the tide flow. Letting her come towards you, once you met up you stayed behind her as she slowly paced her way there. You had seen her body now and then, but thinking of how the small figure you were following would soon become your own sparked some surreal thoughts. Not once did you think about what could happen to your body, and if you somehow lost the costume gun. As you lost yourself in thought, it wasn’t long before you reached the facility. The building was given some attention to make it sanitary, as the white tile floor had the reflection of cleanliness. Two open doors split both genders, and Anya gestured you towards the men's showers. “Here we are.” She waited for you to speak, but you were finalizing that the two of you were alone by scanning your surroundings. “Hello?” “Sorry, blanked out. Thanks.” You looked to see a pair of uncomfortable eyes. She was never one to take the lead. “It's fine.” With that, the two of you proceeded to head back to the pool, her steps bringing tremors to the burning ground. In the heat of the moment, you loudly pulled out the costume gun and shot at her. She was mere feet away from your blast as it coated her in a vibrant aura, which began to sap away at her life. The last thing she would remember would be her sudden collapse onto the floor as her entire body crumbled, creating a flat heap of a former human. It may have lost all life, but sweat and chlorine water still stuck on her skin. A soft clang of metal echoed throughout your ears, and it wasn't until later that you realized she was carrying the locker key. “Well, I'll be damned if that's not terrifying.” You really had no expectations for what would occur, but seeing a human fall apart like a balloon was quite the sight. It seemed like minutes had passed before you had the nerve to holster the gun back into your pocket and hold up the wrinkled skin on your palms. You feel the core temperature that was active seconds ago, as well as sweaty beads of chlorine on her body. Her swimming gear had fallen on the ground too, so you piled that on the suit. “Eh.. Time to move on to the next stage. This better have been worth the nightmare fuel and preparation.” Each step towards the women's showers seemed as if you were stepping on the freezing seabed, as your footwear seemed immune to the sun in exchange for numbness. Your movement wasn't all like dipping sore toes into warm, revitalizing tropical water, but rather still and lifeless like the depths of a frozen ocean. Setting your luggage on one hand, you slid another across your forehead to catch droplets. “I gotta stop over exaggerating things. She's not dead or anything.” That was right. As long as you made sure to hold on to the costume gun, she was still alive. You tried to think of more optimistic situations, like the authorities would just give you another costume gun to bring her back. Now wasn't the time to think, and instead act upon previous actions. Inside the showers, you saw various stalls with repetitive shower heads, lined perfectly against one side of the bleached room. The other side supplied marble sinks and bathrooms, though you only planned on using the shower side. Each one was divided into sections with individual towel hangers and other tools. It felt unreasonable to wear the skinsuit with shorts on, so you put those glove as well as Anya's clothes inside a wall compartment. You unraveled the suit to observe what it really did to her, witnessing sockets without eyes and a hollow mouth that almost looked like you could stick your hand inside. It drooped downward, like limp clothing. With a sigh, you turned the bodysuit around and saw a streak that ran across her head to her posterior, which opened up her inner, coral body. Judging by how you heard an opening should have been made, you assumed this was the ticket. You tapped one foot methodically, the noise of puddles ringing throughout your ears. What have you got to lose? Her leg was logically the best way to start wearing the suit. The source of the tapping descended into the open gash first, reaching down into the skinsuit's right leg. To say it was a perfect fit would be a lie, as your leg bulged out of the suit, a sight similar to wearing clothing too small for you. Nevertheless, you ignored that discrepancy and put your left leg into the other leg, doing your best to match the toes with yours. Your two limbs didn’t confine in the space without hassle of course, and it seemed like at any moment the fabric would tear apart. With most of your naked figure inside, you let go of the suit as the next step would be fitting your arms inside. The husk fell down, with the upper body collapsing on itself as it touched the tiles. One hand positioned a majority of the suit back up, while the other delved inside the tanned arm. Chocolate waves rippled across your arm, covering your more peachy skin. Your body was disproportionate to the minuscule skinsuit, as your shoulder was still exposed when it supposed to be tucked into a rounder joint. Not only that, your fingers could barely match the small, glove-like fingers, laughably distorting each one. Despite the looks, you continued by sliding another arm into the bodysuit, your back and head now the only things remotely masculine. Her small breasts were more or less flattened bumps on your chest, and her impenetrable vagina oddly had the swelling of a penis. And now, the final step would be replacing her face with yours. Anya’s head may have had a connected gash, but her short black hair had made finding it a tedious task. When you finally split the strand to find it, you wasted no time in using your covered hands to drag the head into yours. It was definitely a tight fit, as there was simply no way your height was on a level to conform to her smaller frame. As you tried to stuff your head into hers and match the eye sockets, there was some success as you could see your damp surroundings. Even though you had some advancement, you didn't know how to cover up your back. Once you somewhat aligned your facial features with hers, however, it seemed as if something was on your back. You rubbed it with your hands, but all you felt was the skin-like texture instead of a normal human back. Perhaps that was the next step, as you were completely stuck inside. Before you could think any further, you were abruptly met with tightening pain from all over. Your body started to compress into the suit, shrinking every finger and toe that didn't previously match. The uncomfortable, sweaty tension on your body slowly decreased as you felt more and more in line with her. Your hair, which was stuck inside the suit, did not feel conformed as more luxurious ebony hair became your own. A greater pain struck your chest, pushing it more and more back as you continually coughed. Only then when your lungs became hers, and deflated breasts sprang forth did your pain subside. It went on to your legs, your thighs reducing in size, but your ass growing ever more pronounced and round. “This is happening too fast!” Your voice sounded of a higher pitch, retaining most of your normal voice. You could no longer bear the suffering, so you put a knee down to rest your legs. A hand touched the floor, but there was something wrong about how you could feel the square texture without any feeling of insulation. Your genitals remained male throughout this process, but only now did they start to lessen in size, its erect length failing to stay large. As it disappeared into nothingness, an unfamiliar feeling emitted from your crotch. There seemed to be an emptiness there, and shifting your thighs to search for your male genitalia ended with failure. Amazement that you were definitely a girl now seeped into your brain as your head painlessly became hers. You opened your mouth, though even a basic function like that drastically changed as your jaw and teeth were much different. “I.. I feel like her, way too much.” The same soft-hearted, gentle voice that guided you here fully masked your old, deeper tone. You looked down, feeling no layer of skin on your face follow. It was obvious your perspective changed, because moments ago the ground was farther away. The final change had your irises gradually sink into a plum-colored ones. From your short, jet-black hair that reached your shoulders to your new tiny foot size, nothing made you indistinguishable from the real Anya. You even put a tawny hand, which no longer felt like wearing a glove, to your new face, rubbing your pleasant cheeks. Compared to your old, bulky body, this one was lightweight like a cloud. This was the last planned action, so now you stood idly to contemplate your next choices. “I shouldn't explore her body here.. maybe I should do it at her house.” You weren't fond of having your brother barge into your room while you explored Anya. Plus, when you would eventually revert her back, she would safely be unconscious in her house. You decided on that plan, but to get to her house you needed to be dressed. That meant wearing the one-piece swimsuit and retrieving any items that might be in her locker, while also making sure your stuff wouldn't be stolen. You got the swimsuit out of the compartment, forcefully straightening it out to see how you would wear it. Holding the navy shoulder straps with both of your hands, you put your legs in one at a time, now concealing your vagina in a sleek latex cover. You raised it up further to put your arms in, successfully hiding your breasts. For the sake of going to her house faster, you grabbed the remaining articles of clothing and jogged towards the locker room. How she could casually walk from the pool to the showers without burning her feet was an accomplishment, as you could feel the sensation of hot coals with every step. You were thankful to find her flip-flops basking in the shade, right next to the locker room. They sheltered your feet marvelously, and the overcast roof brought a comforting waterfall, shrouding your body in cool air. “Woo. Made it.” No lifeguard was there to witness your blazing trail, lit by two legs you had no experience in traversing with. It would have been quite a sight for anyone to see the prodigy swimmer, who apparently had no fear of walking under the sun beforehand, now tremble messily from the ground it scorched. Your breathing remained normal throughout the whole ordeal, but the occasional misstep and near descent into the stone path ruined any idea of professionalism. Those thoughts came and left like a river stream, as you entered the building where your important possessions were safeguarded. For ease of access, your items were right next to hers, knowing full well she would not go to this place until the sun began to cool for the night. Concerning how you would breach the metal barrier into her belongings, any fragment of doubt was shattered into grains of sand that piled on a beach shore, as you sprung out the key from your sun-baked hand. For some odd reason, it fell down when she was converted; bothering yourself with how it was on her body in the first place was an unnecessary worry. With a twist, her guarded items came loose. Just a couple of summer, outside utilities and her phone, all discovered when you peeked into the duffel bag inside of the locker. You stuffed your own summer clothing in the sack, zipped it up afterwards and closed the chamber, casually walking out with an optimistic smile. The next order of business was to go to her house and explore her body in some privacy, and a quick run on your phone’s GPS confirmed your memory was true. Several minutes later, you were greeted to the doorsteps of her house. It was a simple, two story house blended with tan painting, plain enough to be called middle class. You pull out a different key from her bag, under the thought it was for the house. Thankfully, the squared door came open without hassle. “Hel-looo?” You so unprecedentedly chirped. To add to your previous success, no one response came, perhaps meaning Anya was a latchkey child. A depressing truth, but relieving for this situation. The inside of her house was quite sanitary, devoid of any impure marks on the wall or bountiful loads of dust. Air conditioning kept the place cool for the summer, as much as it heated up the electric bill. Your petite feet, freed of footwear, tapped against reflective wood as you explored her life. Her cradle. Thinking of it that way made you skeptical of how realistically dangerous the very weapons that led you here was. You intruded on her very being, and so normally invaded her house as if you stole her daily life. Two slaps on the cheek let go of the contemplation, squishing her delicate skin in the process. Doing that always helped stop make your mind wander. You weren't going to let overthinking ruin your vacation, right? Enjoy the person you're wearing and make sure nothing bad happens—your confidence soon swallowed up any culminating doubt. With it came perversion, and with that came the dash of your athletic body has to the second floor. Your body felt the light gray carpeting and relaxed itself more as time seemed to move quickly as you stood in the hallway. Two closed doors laid left, and one master bedroom to the right; a couple of cabinets started the crossroad. You chose the first option, as one of the doors had her name in glamorous Broadway lights. You unleashed Pandora's Box and ventured into her room, thinking it would be pastel colored and filled with stuffed dolls. You were half right once you laid your eyes on ordinary and extraordinary furniture, like a modern lamp. The paint was a subtle pink, fitting the established drowned out tone. Her small bed and walk-in closet were equally mundane, and the only thing that stood out was a couple of plush animals on top of a clothes drawer. A pink spherical carpet encompassed a dressing table, as well as another table with a chair and laptop. At this point, you were entitled to every single thing here. Now that was a good thought. You immediately dropped your duffel bag at one of the tables and sprang into her bed, ruining the surface as soon as your body flapped on it like a fish. The aroma of a young girl flooded your nostrils, making you stop movement just to hold up a portion of the blanket and smell it further. It was laced in perfume, and as suited you soon realized the fragrance was there from the very start. You were in a garden of peonies, and each petal smelled of sugar and vanilla. This was the true woman’s world, and if it wasn’t the most bewitching atmosphere of female perfection. What wasn't entrancing, however, was the artificial stench of chlorine, every swimmer's menace. This was going to corrupt your once-of-a-lifetime experience, and soon enough you smelled the sweat you gathered from the sunshine. Priorities leapt you out of bed and scrambled into her cabinets, in search of clothing for a shower. “Wait. If I'm alone, why play dress up?” You dropped a pair of satin panties back, and undid every spontaneous action before. Instead, you walked out of her room empty handed and checked the other door, a granite bathroom with sliding glass shower doors and sleek white sinks. You set the costume gun by one of them and looked under to see if anything interesting would pop out of the wood drawers. Indeed there were, a couple towels and some toilet paper rolls. What luck. You slipped out of your one-piece and walked into the dew-stained shower like a princess, which each foot swinging over the other. An idle arm came through to pull the shower handle into action, and from there water spewed out of the head. You closed your eyes to bask in the frosty rainfall, dragging hands down cheeks to rub it in. When they reached your breasts, you finally spoke. “Ah, what a day.” Your slippery hands gave them a short massage before descending further, down to your crisp thighs. You felt the luscious, cushions of skin shiver as you squeezed them a couple of times. A gentle, whisper of a moan was let out, the silky murmur unheard by anyone except you. It wasn't of sexual pleasure, no, but the enjoyment of being such an epitome of beauty. And when you plunged deeper to grasp your half-pale ass, another squeeze relieved all of your stress. You spread the cheeks, leaving your private parts unattended in return for hypnotically spinning your hands on them. You'd save that for later. You finished groping yourself by slapping the surface, which gave a little vibration. Now that you were coated in more pure water, you could relish your soft and wet body. First, though, you modified the jet stream of water to become more delicate, like the choppy current of a lonesome river. Your eyes came out of a their chestnut shell to witness how lovely you were now; back at the pool, you couldn’t pace yourself. As they looked downwards to survey your delectable form, all you could think about was how this body was yours. Anya, the purest of girls at this school, had clear dark tan and white skin that must've made her peers jealous. The slenderness of her entire figure and lack of any body or pubic hair as well seemed so otherworldly to a boy like you. To add on to her beauty, her short black hair, those straight midnight strands, rivaled the smoothness of goddesses. Though her breasts weren't as developed, she had quite the perky ass. Removed of your male physique would normally be a phobia, but to temporarily give it up for Anya was a mindless trade. “This is what she uses, huh. I need this in my life.” A dry soap bar lay relaxed inside a steel bar rack, along with other goods such as shampoo and conditioner. The bar was of an innocent snow color, curved like a crescent moon with a logo you’d never seen. It wasn’t a center of attention for you until now, but now that it was, this was without doubt what she used to emit freshness. You shined it in the shower head to make it usable, and then gave it a whiff to smell that floral grace again. water to lather yourself in the grandiose item. You let the bar plaster itself onto your hanging arm, leaving bubbly footprints in its wake. Looking at her arm once more made you think how womanly it resembled. Such thinness like a cinnamon stick, such flawlessness, and yet, strong enough to blast through water. You were dazzled by its wondrous talent as your hand subconsciously swept through it with soap, your eyes glowing at how shiny your arm was becoming. After that, you switched hands to cover the other arm, the same pleasant feeling blessing your soul. With both arms done, you moved on to your stomach. It tingled from every swift sweep of the soap, almost making you giggle. Nevertheless, you also covered your back, and then your two boobs. Especially those. You used the bar as a messaging tool, and it was that same tingle that seeped out a grin. It was electric, and each short shock made you want more of it. You stopped that sensation, as your legs weren't prepared yet. To start, you scrubbed your thighs in white at an unmatchable pace, and then crept to your vagina and anus. “I'll need to give this a deep clean. A girl like me should always be tidy.” You smugly declared, each word slipping away like maple syrup. You dragged the bar to your bare vagina, and moved it up and down the space between your thighs. The movement was slow, but repetition made you shiver with delight. Merely gracing over your crotch was entrancing, as you would always see a penis lying there instead. When you ran up the soap bar to your tight flesh folds, the pressure brought out a jolt like no other. Even your posture dwindled at how different this electricity felt compared to your breasts and ass, making your hand escape that private place. Because of that, you made a quick promise to yourself to indulge in that fleshy goodness later, when you were cleansed of any disruptive smells. You proceeded to stand up and walk into the downpour. The soap melted away into nothingness, sliding down your limbs and collecting as fizzy sleet into the drain below. Regal purple eyes observed all of it wash away, glistening at the spectacle from a dark-skinned perspective. How grand was it to see soap creep down your dainty breasts, on a voyage to explore your caramel figure. You let the soap continue on with its descent as you squeezed out shampoo from a bottle. Again, you moved back to spread the foamy substance all over your head, similar in whiteness to the soap you used earlier. Once your head was a mixture of black and white, you closed your eyes, stepped into the shower head, and scrubbed away the product with continuous strokes. The aftermath left you blossomed with that charming floral smell, a scent of impeccably ripe peonies. The hand that once held soap pulled the shower back into inactivity, and vigorously the glass doors unleashed the tan teenager inside. It was you who confidently came out soaking, who grabbed a nearby towel to stop your hair's drizzle. You dried up your head, arms, chest, and legs in that exact order. Once that was out of the way, you left the towel beside the sink and grabbed the costume gun, happily walking back to your room. Calmly setting the firearm on the surface of your bed, the aforementioned events at the beginning were set into motion.

---

You exited the pose you were making, flipping your back and getting back up in the process.

“Masturbating sounds great right now. I wonder if she has any sex toys. If people are really watching me from god knows where, can you lend me a hand?” No response, of course. You never took into account the sheer embarrassment or shame that all your actions created, and now that it was starting to settle in, you decided the best choice would be to deepen the hole and bury your masculinity.

You examine the dressing table you skimmed over the last time you came to the room, singling it out with no real reason. Like every other furniture piece, its texture and color was gilded in white, the type a hospital room would use. You stare at it for a couple of seconds, before delving into the miniature compartments below the surface. Two were on each side, and a quick look at the ones to the left revealed an assortment of feminine garments, from hair clips and bands to bows. A subconscious force gave you inclination to try all of all of the accessories on; maybe even put on makeup to top it off.

You turn you body to reach the other containers, coincidentally stumbling upon the basic tools of makeup. Mascara, nail polish, lipstick, that was the extent of what you could name from the piles of it. You give up trying to expand the idea of wearing makeup, picking off a simple ribbon instead. It was as white as any object in this room, with loose straps meant to wrap around part of your head. The endeavor was something you had to take a look in the oval mirror atop the table for, magnified to reflect only your head. Handling your new hairstyle was one thing, but add on a pair of two thin hands and an object you had no practice with turned the casual yearn into a tedious labor. You set the ribbon part to the center of your head, wrapped the strings around the inner tufts of hair to avoid a laughable look, and tied it behind your head. During this time, you barely utilized the mirror, using it to admire the end result instead. Your amethyst eyes glistened like jewels in a dark cavern, unexposed to this fashion. You weren't interested in being female forever, rather it was more akin to never having a woman so close or irresistibly naked in your life. Without a doubt, you would never get tired of this first person action.

“As much as my sex appeal rose, I forgot about masturbating.” You lean away from the mirror and turn to see where the sex toy, if it does exist, is hiding. A gamble, yes, but a mutual way to also explore a girl’s life.

A check on the drawers with her clothing that you previously raided gave no lead. You did, however, learn the various colored panties and bras she has, a fact something stalkers would share. A glimpse of what was under her bed only showed bits of dust forming. Investigating her computer wouldn't help, and the table it sat on was made of glass clearer than day. The last and most demanding check was the walk-in closet, and with the sun still blazing, there was nothing to lose. You swing the ridged doors open, the first thing you see are boxes of schoolwork, juvenile toys, and racks upon racks of outfits.

You take a few steps to go inside, intending to open the box labeled schoolwork. Your toes, however, poked at the toys box, creating a short sound of hollowness. This was the first box you saw, so you thought it was going to be loaded soon. Such a noise was peculiar, so you ended up lifting it up and hauling it over to your bed. You flip the cardboard covers open, intending to see emptiness to move on, only to find a phallus-shaped vibrator laying dormant. When your eyes stared at the bottom and traveled to the top, you had to look again. It was of pastel pink and white color, the two taking half the space of the phallus and the bottom being layered in white switches.

“Anya, you're crazy to put this, of all things, inside the closest box.” You take it from its brown case, expecting weight but receiving weightlessness instead.

Simply grasping the shaft to look at it felt dirty, yet imagining Anya using this made you feel obligated to abuse it. You toss the box back where it came from, sealing the closet doors and jumping back into bed. There, you rest yourself comfortably on a pillow, your body as straight as ever aside from a pair of open legs. The pastel sex toy found home on the top of your chest, inches above your belly button. Your left hand grabbed the lower part, filled to the brim with settings, and flicked on the lowest setting.

It sprang to life, humming like a gentle bee and spinning like a rising tsunami. You didn't go for your vagina instantly, and tested the waters by sliding it down your right arm. Contact with the smooth surface, along with the buzzing sensation of a massage, brought a pleased chill. A switch of the dominant hand gave that same satisfaction to the other limb. You drove the vibrator to your lower chest and dragged it upward, lightly vibrating all over your well-tanned body. When you reach your breasts, a thought came to mind.

“Wouldn't it be fun to roleplay some?” A brain driven by hormones and curiosity tempted out loud.

The answer was a surefire “yes.” You bent your left hand to your two boobs, and spread its fingers, getting a perimeter of her small orbs. She would always withdraw from conversations that commended her skill in water, holding back from pride and letting the compliments get carried into the ocean. Perhaps it was her mixed tan of dark and light that lowered her morale, or how she acted respectful and soft-spoken in your classes, as if such manners were imprinted by her family. But now, as her, you could bend her personality to whatever you wanted. Be it assertive, bashful, or timid like the original, your imagination defined your fulfillment.

“I'm Anya, and I love swimming. Today I saw this cute guy when I was practicing.” Your held was feminine, but held the masculine tone no longer. It came out more airy, almost innocent, mimicking Anya’s way of enunciation. As you talked, thinking of how this girly attitude was your own made your vagina tremble in delight.

“I've always had my eyes on him during school, but I'm too embarrassed to say anything to him.. I don't know what to do.” The vibrator now resonated against your thighs, making them quiver. It was so close to your vagina that the flesh hole quivered as well, as if wanting to be engulfed by that sweet sound.

“And when he needed my help to find the shower room, I could feel my heart skip a beat! It was so embarrassing.. I knew he was staring at my butt.” Previously split legs united like magnets as the vibrator was squished between your thighs, leaving your vagina some space to keep it visible. The entrapment made your entire lower half reverberate, moisturizing your vagina from the sheer neglect and anticipation. At the end of your sentence, your free hand instinctively went under to grope your adorable coconut butt, relishing how each squeeze was more luscious than the last.

“I love him. I masturbate and imagine it’s him who pleasures me.” With that final line, you still clenched your legs as your index finger glided above your clitoris, where pubic hair was supposed to gather. A small amount of pressure slightly caved into the skin, and in no time the search concluded with finding your clitoris’ shaft. Circular motions on the thin cord unleashed a can of worms never fathomed by or felt by your penis. You could feel sweat create a lining of your body on the bed, and each rotation hypnotized eyes that bore witness to it all. With one hand occupied doing that, the other went down to feel your clitoris’ hood. Rubbing the fleshy exterior gave way to even more pleasure. Combined with the lurking vibrator, your hands jittered at each tremor.

You ceased that after your lower lips was fully soaked in pearly lubricant, and released the sex toy out of its chocolate cover. By then, it was warm to the touch. You raised the strength by a small fraction, enough to turn it into a torrent. Time moved slowly when you held it over your yearnful vagina, and when it lowered to touch the bulb that was your clitoris, time vastly accelerated. Your athletic body weakened at the sensation, feeling glorious ripples stream all over your vagina. Your legs weakened at that single action of bliss, and to amplify it further the second hand wildly stuck two fingers into your aching vagina, relishing at how the inner walls cushioned them in pure velvety goodness. That alone was enough to release a full-fledged moan that painted lust all over pastel walls.

“T-this is..” You held choked on your breath at the realization of an incoming orgasm.

It was like the first time you ejaculated; a soft pain followed by harsh spurts of discharge and hormonal joy. You had to close your eyes at the massive wave of tension that took over your body, firmly closing numb toes. The feeling was equivalent to the descent of a rollercoaster, so full of excitement, though your hands stood frozen at the release. Euphoric jolts endlessly came, bringing a moan blind to the sensation every single time. A feeling of lightheadedness flooded your senses, giving an out-of-body-experience. Your crotch was so warm—so hot—from nearby pearly liquid splashing onto virgin white sheets.

“Aah, that.. that was great.” Like a candle, the heat diminished with every passing second as your body melted into the cloth.

“I could go for another round, but I won’t. For her sake.” You were still laying as a blind arm sprawled against the sheet to relocate the costume gun. When cinnamon fingers touched something much harder than a pillow, they came back with the gun. Your hand was still shaky from orgasm, having some struggle to carry the firearm. Both hands grasped the single pistol, steadying a shot directly at your chest. A forceful press released a blinding light, and when your eyes reopened, no longer did they feel natural. Your body expanded as another shriveled up, making milky, more rough, hands out-of-place. Ebony hair no longer reached down your head, and no silkiness could be felt with an elastic cover. You moved uneasy hands to unravel your true head, which was surprisingly free of hot temperature or tiredness. In fact, when you pushed your naked form out of Anya’s petite frame, there was nothing that felt humid.

“I guess muscle memory doesn’t transfer through skinsuits.” It was the most possible conclusion. You got of her bed, grabbing the costume gun from the flattened belly. You walked over to her duffel bag and pulled out all of your personal belongings, becoming one with your male physique again and wearing the swim gear you brought. The height increase was familiar, and slowly your mind adjusted to its former figure.

“See you next summer.” An effortless movement pulled the neon trigger, reforming Anya back to fullness. From a stranger’s perspective, she was casually sleeping after masturbation. To you, you were staring at yourself. If you heard your brother right, he said something along the lines that undoing the costume gun’s bodysuit would leave the victim unconscious for a few minutes.

Since you were already close to the door, you went ahead and shut it. You sluggishly went down the same stairs a pair of hazel feet dashed up, and came to the front door. They came loose once you unlocked it, but locking it was the problem.

“Hey, if you’re watching me, bro, make sure no one breaks in? I’m not going to take her keys.” You were probably going to get a nagging for leaving a house open to be robbed, but you were urgent to get back to the pool and grab your other leftover items.

This time, the journey became a short sprint to the pool under the glaring sun. Upon entry, you navigated through the locker room and took out the rental key. You greedily grabbed your cool items and went out to the chlorine water, seeing the lifeguard idly looking at nothing. You caught his attention, handed him your keys, and gave thanks before departing. There wasn’t much to do now. You decided sprinting would do nothing to your way back to your house, so you let yourself grow sweaty. Upon noticing the trickle of water on your forehead, you learned you no longer smelled of vanilla grace. Instead, your sunscreen-coated skin shimmered from the undying heat. You kept a mental note to buy the brand, and from there the concrete sidewalk repeated for minutes, an organic path of grass traveling by its side. The greenery halted when a path leading to a house split it, which continued on for some time. Only until you saw your own, extremely ordinary house did you stray from the main road.

Walking and greeting your brother inside was going to be awkward. You so casually masturbated under the lens of your sibling’s crew, and now you were going to waltz into your house no different from any other day. You thought of these things while traveling up to a hay doormat, noticing the car your brother owned roasting in front of the furnished brick garage. An apathetic hand dove into your black and red shorts, taking out the personal house key. You were ready to get teased for saying all those erotic things as Anya, and with open eyes the door swung open. How perfect it was that the first thing most people saw when entering your household was the dinner table; a figure casually sat on the closest chair to the door. A granite mug—a particular container your brother always drank coffee from—came towering down to the redwood table.