Naru had never felt so self conscious before. All she was doing was walking through the corridor, step by step, a journey she took on a daily basis. Except that today, her legs weren’t cooperating with the rest of her body. She felt like they might collapse out from under her at any moment, buckle away like wet paper.
<i>Get it together!</i> she thought to herself as firmly as she could. Firm. Like Motoko’s breasts. Big. Bouncy. Inviting. Round. Entrancing…
She lay a hand upon the wall for support and took several deep breaths. What was the matter with her? Why was she suddenly so hyper-aware of her own breasts at a time like this? Naru looked down at them. It was strange. She felt so terribly self conscious about them all of a sudden. Like, as if being in the presence of sheer perfection had diminished them in some manner. It was as if her body felt ashamed of not being as sexy as Motoko, and somehow felt that it could validate itself by - By doing such unspeakable things with her! No, no, no! She wasn’t that kind of girl! Really! She wasn’t! She wasn’t the sort that obsessed over how sexy other girls were! She wasn’t the kind that fantasised about them! Not at all! Nope! Naru Narusegawa was a good girl!
So why did that sound so hollow when she put it in those terms?
“Well, hello there, Naru,” said a slightly tipsy voice behind her that she recognised as Mitsune. Naru turned and looked at her close friend, really looked, a lot harder than she ever had before. “Penny for your thoughts?”
Look at her, standing there like that. Tiny cut-off jeans that clung to her hips like they had been painted in place and a tanktop just about the right size, yet small enough to flaunt her navel. It created the effect of dressed, but barely. Didn’t she realise that anyone could see her like that? See what she looked like? Didn’t she realise what sort of effect it might have on people? Men like Keitaro. Women like…
Naru was passingly aware of something slipping by in her mind, bending without breaking, and then she stepped forward towards her friend with her chest thrust out and words slipping out of her mouth before she was even consciously aware of them.
“I was just wondering,” she said with a small flip of her hair. “How my breasts compare to yours.”
Kitsune had this smile on her face all of a sudden, the smile she usually had in mind when there was mischief to be had. Someone to be toyed around with. For a moment Naru returned to her senses, wondering what she was doing.
“Well, to begin with,” Mitsune said, gently reaching forward to squeeze Naru’s breasts; Naru almost came on the spot. “I would say these were a particularly spectacular pair of breasts. Right? No point comparing them to anyone else, is there? Only the insecure would do that. Right?”
Naru meekly nodded, biting her lip. This was intoxicating!
“You seem a little tense,” Mitsune observed. “I know exactly what you need: A great big healthy dose of mister manager. I’m sure he’ll set your head straight.”
“Keitaro isn’t here right now,” Naru said, suddenly gripping Mitsune by the wrist and pinning her to the wall. It was oddly gratifying to see her friend’s eyes grow wide before she reached in to kiss her. It felt nice. Soft.
She pulled back and away from Mitsune, shocked upon the realisation of what she was doing. Mitsune quirked an eyebrow and raised a finger to her lips.
“I didn’t realise you were that sort of girl,” Mitsune noted.
“Me neither,” Naru whispered.
<hr>
Her room had changed. She hadn’t noticed while her eyes were closed, but all around her everything was different. Under normal circumstances her room had only the barest essentials and a few weapon decorations, and that was it. It was comfortable for her needs.
But now? Now it looked positively… What would be the best way to describe it? Feminine? Pink, certainly. Posters of - admittedly rather attractive by any measure - men and women scattered all over the walls. Plush toys of various animals which were really, ridiculously adorable and completely not her style at all.
Whatever was happening to her was getting worse by the moment, it seemed.
With a nervous gulp, Motoko rose to her feet and gingerly approached the wardrobe. Would it be possible? If the rest of the room had changed, then maybe so had - Jackpot! Just as she had expected! The clothes within the wardrobe had undergone as much of an alteration as the rest of the room and actually looked like they would fit her!
There was only one problem. Every single item of clothing in the room was - ahem - rather revealing to say the least. Skirts so small that at first she had believed them to be belts. Skirts so frilly she’d believed them to be yet more plush toys. Shirts and blouses that would certainly accommodate her new figure, but upon pressing them up to her body and looking in the full length mirror she didn’t used to have it becomes rather obvious that they didn’t really leave anything to the imagination.
Of further concern was the lack of training hakama or anything remotely like it. Surely this other version of herself at the very least put up the appearance of still being interested in training? That was what her altering memories indicated. So where in this blasted wardrobe was -
<i>”Oh, Shinobu? Would you mind, like, cleaning this for me? I don’t really use it that often these days, but I would appreciate the help.”</i>
In the wash? And she only had one of them? How… wonderful. Motoko stared at the pile of slutty clothing her other self had accrued and decided that she could either stare at it and let whatever was happening continue to happen, or get creative and do something about it. Could she even rely on Naru remembering to bring her new clothing since reality itself seemed to be affected by… whatever the hell this was?!
Since she was crucially aware that evil prevails when the good do nothing, she took the obvious decision and began pulling on the clothing, piece by piece, hoping that with multiple layers she could at least ensure that her enhanced figure wasn’t - ahem - too obvious. The effect was a trifle warm and stifling, but eventually she was able to accomplish something. Couldn’t find anything to cover her legs properly and some of her cleavage was still being displayed, but a small victory was a victory she would take for the time being.
As for what she would do next, well then. She would start by leaving the room and interrogating her fellow dormmates to see if they had been similarly altered in any measurable manner. From there she could begin to work, and -
The door opened just as she reached for the handle. Motoko gasped and stepped back, staring into the unbelieving eyes of her visitor….
- It’s the other, slutty Motoko!
- It’s her sister (either her actual sister, or the changed one).
- Keitaro was checking up on her.
- Mitsune came after hearing about Motoko’s change.
- It’s the regular unchanged Motoko! What the hell?!
- Something else
This is Fantastic!!! So glad you took my advice!
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