When Free Time Hits, Of Course...
"Nngh.... Wait—evening already?"
I must have dozed off after ignoring that bratty YouTuber who'd come pounding on my door that afternoon without a shred of mercy.
There'd been three more of those types so far. Two of them bolted the second the landlord and the neighbors raised their voices. The last one dug his heels in until the cops finally showed up and sent him scurrying off with his tail between his legs.
This time probably wouldn't have been much different.
I should properly thank the neighbors tomorrow.
Gurgle.
Come to think of it, I'd gone grocery shopping because I was hungry—and then hadn't eaten a single thing.
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
Whoosh.
Bubble-bubble.
In the dark, silent one-room apartment, the only sound was the ramen boiling away.
My parents lived far away. I still hadn't told them about my condition.
What if I told them I'd turned into a woman?
Would they stroke my hair and comfort me? Or would they reject me outright—saying someone like this couldn't possibly be their son?
There were too many cases to guess. But for people whose original appearance had been completely inverted like mine, the latter seemed to make up the higher percentage—which made me hesitate to call.
At best, I'd only contacted a few close friends.
Fortunately, proving I was still Minhu had been easy enough to settle.
While I fretted over this and that, the ramen finished cooking. I was so ravenous I polished it off in three minutes flat, then flopped down right there and stared blankly at the ceiling.
How am I supposed to live in this body? I'm ridiculously pretty, so... a model? No—I'd be lucky if I didn't get cursed out of existence. And going back to a normal office job is...
Impossible.
Had I already forgotten what happened when I showed up for work the day after the TS? From the jump, every kind of sexual harassment imaginable—and one bastard who'd tried to cross the line entirely. All in a single day!
Thanks to that—if you could call it thanks—the company had stuffed a decent severance package and some hush money into my pocket. The real message was clear: take this and get the hell out.
I'd tried all sorts of things to shake off the forced gloom, but the memories only burned themselves deeper into my brain, growing sharper instead of fading.
In the end, all that remained was escapism.
I fired up the computer and spent about an hour glued to my usual FPS game when—
Pong pong pong pong pong.
Boom boom boom boom boom.
An ally has eliminated a hostage.
"Hey! Fuse, you fucking idiot! You said you picked him by accident! So why the hell did you use your ability?!"
Ah, shit. Mistake.
My habit of flipping on the mic and screaming when I got mad—instead of just typing—had finally bitten me in the ass.
It was only a tiny chat window with four other people, but the messages started flooding in like ten people were grilling me at once.
Panicked, I mashed Alt+F4 and bailed out of the game.
And just like that, I had nothing to do again.
When games weren't working out...
"Masturbation's the only option left.... But with this body?"
I didn't even know the proper method.
But what is a human being, after all?
The primate with the greatest brain on Earth, right? If you don't know how, you just learn.
So all that remained was the decision.
My pride as a man... can take a back seat for a bit.
Hadn't someone said it? If you don't get caught, it's not a crime.
Obviously, a woman's body has a sex drive too. Meaning the current me had a sex drive—and the strange sense of taboo about masturbating in a woman's body poured gasoline straight onto that fire.
I'm a man, and the world is overflowing with guys who grind against the floor or stick it into every weird thing imaginable. By comparison, this is practically refined.
Click. Click.
The computer screen flipped rapidly through a few windows until a page loaded with videos and written guides. Those red eyes of mine absorbed every scrap of knowledge without leaving a drop behind.
"So basically, caress the breasts with a soft sweeping motion.... In other words, go slow, but put a moderate amount of pressure into it?"
Ssslip.
I peeled off the oversized white T-shirt that didn't fit my frame at all. Even in the dark room lit only by the computer screen, my skin seemed to glow. A slender waist—and in stark contrast to that waist, a pair of enormous breasts heavy with maternal abundance, their two pink buds boldly asserting their existence.
Shff.
Next, the utilitarian underwear.
Unlike the straight-line waist and hips of my male days, my now-ample pelvis created a slight snug pressure as the underwear slid past.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The moment I was naked, my heart began hammering and my blood circulation kicked into overdrive, tension rising on its own.
"Hoo...."
I tried a deep breath to calm my racing heart a little—then realized I was about to masturbate, so what was the point of calming down? I let it be.
Finally, the most important side dish.
Since this was my first time masturbating as a woman, I decided to pull out the game I treasured most from the collection I'd been freeloading off for years.
Click.
The moment the game launched, the title screen was plastered with every kind of obscene scenario imaginable—genres that would make a normal person go this is what gets you off? and cut ties on the spot.
My reaction, seeing that filthy collection again after a week:
"The body's changed... but the tastes are still the same, huh?"
I felt relieved.
Click.
Tap-tap.
With a much lighter heart, I hit Continue and made a beeline for the recollection room. There was no hesitation in my hands.
I reached for the very end of the recollection room—the bad ending where the heroine is utterly, catastrophically ruined.
I set the dialogue to auto-advance and plugged in my headset so no sound would leak out.
"Haaang... Aaaah.... Hurry, hurry and turn me into a breeding sow!"
Watching the character spew dialogue at the absolute peak of obscenity while looking blissful wrapped in tentacles, I decided to gradually get myself going too.
Immersing myself as the character? That was fine—but in heroine-focused games like this, the goal wasn't immersion or identification. It was appreciation.
I brought my left hand to the outer side of my right breast, while my right hand pressed lightly against my lower abdomen and slowly worked its way downward.
My left hand, with the gentle touch of someone cradling a newborn, traced the line from my armpit down between my breasts, heading for the pink bud at the crest of the hill. The touch was like a snake savoring skin—making no attempt to hide its lust, filled with vulgar purpose—so that when it occasionally reached its destination, it raised its nails for a mischievous little pinch.
My right hand, confirming the source of my arousal, pressed firmly with index and middle fingers, gradually advancing toward the most secret flower garden in the world.
In my ears, the lewd wet sounds, the slap of flesh, and the moans of a top-tier voice actress pouring her soul into the performance—as seasoning, they left nothing to be desired.
How many minutes had passed? Or only seconds?
Didn't matter.
The repeated sequence of motions was bringing changes to my body. My breathing gradually grew ragged. Heat rose through me. The touch of my hands on now-hypersensitive skin and erogenous zones made my body jolt as if pricked by needles—but those were thrashings of pleasure, not pain.
My vision blurred. Sound reached my ears muffled, as if water had gotten in. With every exhale, a bewitching sigh began to slip out.
Before I knew it, the stream flowing from my pussy had soaked the chair thoroughly. Even I, whose knowledge of women was somewhat lacking, could tell I was more than ready.
My right index and middle fingers carefully, carefully stretched out and reached the pussy that was glistening—no, overflowing—with honey.
Creak.
Following pure instinct, I shifted into a more comfortable position for masturbation.
There was no longer a thinking human being there.
Only a single female whose head was ruled by lust.
Squish.
"Uuh."
The first thing I felt was a foreign sensation. But neither my mind nor my body had any intention of stopping here, so I started moving my fingers again.
Squish. Squish.
"Haa... haa..."
My hands, feet, and face went numb, sensation fading as if they'd fallen asleep. In exchange, my breasts and lower abdomen burned and grew sensitive beyond any comparison to before.
It felt as if every sense had been converted into sexual sensation—but even so, I didn't stop my hands.
The foreign feeling that had been nothing but strange gradually became familiar after a few minutes, and with each passing moment the heat rising from my crotch grew hotter still, spreading through my entire body.
Around the time that heat had filled me completely, I felt a strange sensation welling up from somewhere deep.
"My chest is burning up."
I understood. If I kept going any further, there would be no turning back.
So why aren't I stopping?
As my hand movements grew more intense, the hot energy filled my body like air pumped into a balloon past its limit.
But what happens when you keep injecting air past a balloon's limit?
The answer is—
Ah, ah?! Something's coming.... Wa—
It pops with a bang.
Psssh!
"Euhiihiik— oooohgook♡"
Blissful.
An overwhelming wave of ecstasy surged up, and tears began to fall. The honey I'd thought was merely overflowing from the flower burst forth the moment the flower bloomed wide open, spectacularly soaking the room like my long-suppressed lust set free.
And the honey wasn't only coming from below.
"Euheh—why is breast milk coming from my...?"
I didn't know, but among the symptoms of TS Syndrome, there was an extremely rare one where breast milk was produced. The odds were so abysmal that in the past ten years, only three people had ever manifested it. Even those three had their identities protected at the national level, so the public had never learned of it.
Normally, producing breast milk would be a situation to be horrified by.
"Haahm.... slurp... slurp."
But for me, whose brain was ruled by lust, even that had already been elevated into something to enjoy.
Sweet! And it feels so good!
And in reality, the breast milk was also functioning as an erogenous zone.
I sincerely wished this moment would last forever, and tried to start moving my hands again after the brief pause.
"Hic... hic... sob."
"Wh-what?! Who's there?!"
But a sudden sobbing sound stopped me cold, and I felt crushing shame at having my disgraceful display overheard.
I had to stop it. No matter what, I had to prevent what was happening right now from leaking outside—that thought drove me to find the source of the sound.
"?"
Come to think of it, I was wearing a headset right now—and yet the voice was ringing out as clearly as if someone were speaking directly into my ear. Almost like dialogue from the eroge currently running....
"Wait—"
With those final words from the strange creature that only said what it wanted to say, a light so bright it could blind me erupted from the monitor.