In the Picture
Leopold drew a red line beneath the date on the calendar.
Fifteen days. That was how long it had been since he arrived at this mansion — and how long since Veronica had done those things to him.
Her promise to restrain herself had been genuine. She teased him with words, stuffed him into dresses cut far too revealing — but she had not once laid a hand on his body.
He had to go to Veronica's room again today. He rose from his seat and looked in the mirror, and Katrina's face looked back.
"Hmm..."
He removed the magic tool, and his form reverted to Leopold — short white hair and all. He was growing used to dressing as a girl, but that did not mean it had become comfortable.
Outside the window, the sun had already sunk. One by one, the lights of the mansion began to bloom against the dark.
"She's late today."
It was the hour a maid usually came for him, and yet no one had appeared at his door. Had she tripped on the stairs on the way? Or had something come up for Veronica, and she simply hadn't sent anyone at all?
Leopold gazed at the soft light spilling from Veronica's room and found himself wavering. Meeting her was still an awkward, uncomfortable affair.
It wasn't even my fault to begin with. It's the maid who didn't come for me — or Veronica, who forgot. And would she really make a fuss over missing a single day?
The thought had barely formed when a memory from childhood rose to the surface. When he was ten, his father had encouraged him to take up swordsmanship. The instructor had been so terrifying that Leopold refused to go, so his father had the butler drag him to training by force. One day the butler failed to come, and Leopold skipped the lesson. The next day, he very nearly died. The incident left a scar; for a long while afterward he locked himself in his room. Even now, he could not bring himself to refuse a person who used force.
"Haa—"
I should go. If I don't, something worse might happen.
Leopold fastened the magic tool back in place and changed into a white dress.
He knocked.
"Come in."
He opened the door to find Veronica seated on a small chair, drawing. The unfamiliar sight made Leopold pause on the threshold.
"What's the matter? Come in."
"Yes, Sister."
He could call her Sister now as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He approached, and saw that she was working on something.
"What are you drawing?"
"Hmm? Curious, are you?"
Veronica shifted her body to block the paper from view, then smiled.
"I told you I've taken up painting as a hobby lately."
"Ah. That's right."
Leopold sat on the sofa where he had a clear view of her. He was curious about the drawing, but he didn't press.
"The maid never came today... I haven't just wandered over here for nothing, have I?"
"Did we ever actually set a time to meet?"
Only then did it dawn on him that they had never made a proper appointment. For the past two weeks he had simply been summoned at roughly the same hour, and he had come to think of that hour as a promise. A newspaper article surfaced in his memory — an experiment in which a dog was fed at the same time every day — and he felt his earlobes catch fire.
"No. That's not it..."
"Haha — were you that eager to see me?"
"I was not!"
Veronica laughed as though his reaction delighted her.
"Come here. Have a look at this."
She turned the easel so the drawing faced him.
On the paper was Leopold. But the depiction was grotesque, indecent in a way that made his stomach turn. The long white hair had made him think, for a moment, that she had drawn Katrina. Then he saw what was between the figure's legs — something that had no business being attached to a woman.
"Wh... what is this?"
"It's you. Well? I think I captured you rather nicely."
Leopold was too stunned to form a sentence. The drawing was better than he would have expected — but that was hardly the point.
"What if someone sees this!?"
"Don't worry. I'm not showing it to anyone."
She said it without a trace of concern. Then, as if the obscene picture were nothing at all, she flipped it aside and showed him the one behind it.
This time it was Leopold with his short white hair. But instead of a cock, a pussy had been drawn between his legs. And as if that weren't enough, the clothes — which the figure was technically wearing — revealed more skin than fabric.
Veronica flipped through the pages with obvious pride, showing him each one in turn. With every sheet, Leopold's face burned a deeper red.
"...Is that all of them?"
"Mm. That last one was the final piece."
"Then may I go now?"
"No? I have a favor to ask of you today."
She rose from the little chair and sat down beside him.
"My skill still isn't quite there. I need a model."
"You just said you drew them well— wait, what are you doing!?"
"I want you to do it for me."
Veronica's hands began to peel the white dress from his body, slow and unhurried. The shoulder straps slipped through her fingers and fell away. His shoulders and chest lay bare. Leopold couldn't decide whether to cover himself. Covering his chest would look strange. Leaving it uncovered would look strange too.
"Why are you taking my clothes off!?"
"Because I need a nude model?"
His mind went white trying to figure out where to even begin objecting. In that brief, stupid interval, Veronica snatched the dress and tossed it aside, and just like that he was standing there in nothing but his underwear.
"Kyaa—!"
"What are those? Men's underwear."
"Because I'm a man!"
"If men's underwear turned up in a girl's room, people would find that rather strange, don't you think?"
"Well, that's true, but..."
"We'll go shopping together later. We'll need to get you a bra while we're at it."
Her gaze traveled the length of his body. His frame was so slender, so feminine, it was hard to believe he was a man at all. Of course, the bulge at the front was saying otherwise.
"I don't want to."
"Don't be like that."
She caught his wrist as he tried to leave and held him in place. Then she sat back down in front of the easel.
"Just stand there a moment. I'll draw you as you are."
"You're going to draw me like this?"
"I told you I needed a model."
"...How long will it take?"
"Just bear with it a little. I'll be quick."
Leopold sighed and gave in. My body has already been through this once anyway. The thought crossed his mind unbidden. But being seen by someone in this state was still mortifying.
Veronica studied him piece by piece as her pencil moved: the delicate line of his shoulders, the narrow cinch of his waist, even the slight protrusion straining against his underwear. The room filled with the soft scratch of graphite on paper.
"Your body is quite pretty, you know."
"Wh-what?"
"I said your body is pretty. The kind of figure even women would envy."
"...I wouldn't know. I'm not a woman."
"Those thighs especially. So plump and tempting. Did you put on weight because you never went to the army?"
"That's just how my body originally...!"
He started to protest on instinct, then stopped. Saying more would only put him at a disadvantage. Veronica giggled at the sight of him and kept drawing.
"Your cock is pretty too. Everything I saw in books looked grotesque."
"That doesn't sound like a compliment."
"To a woman, small and cute is a compliment."
"I'm a man!"
He turned his face away, drowning in shame. But now that he had become aware of it, the thing between his legs began to stir. Veronica did not miss it.
"Your body is beautiful, Katrina."
"Those slightly plump thighs. That slender waist."
"It really is pretty, you know. For a man, you have such feminine curves. Especially your ass..."
Every word from her mouth made him harder. Before long his cock was fully erect, pulling his underwear taut.
"Nnhh...♡"
He thought he might lose his mind. Every syllable from Veronica felt like a hand on his skin.
"Hmm — feeling good?"
"There's no way I would...!"
"It's not very convincing when you're standing at attention like that."
He didn't answer. But his cock twitched and throbbed, answering in its master's place. A bead of clear fluid had gathered at the tip like dew.
"Let's see... the drawing's finished now."
Veronica rose from her chair and came toward him. She sank to her knees at his feet.
"What are you...♡!"
"Shh — don't move."
Her hand stroked the inside of his thigh. A ticklish, circling touch that wandered the neighborhood of his cock without ever quite arriving. Then, without warning, she flicked the very tip of the head with her fingertip. His cock jerked hard.
"So sensitive. Cute."
"Sister, please..."
"Please what? You want me to stop? Or..."
Both of her hands wrapped around him completely. Her soft grip began a slow, steady stroke — up, and down.
"Ahh—♡"
"I like how honest your body is."
Her hands moved faster. Leopold gripped the arm of the sofa and swallowed his moans. His thighs had begun to tremble.
"This is the little pouch that holds the baby-makers, isn't it?"
"Nngh — haah♡"
One hand kept stroking him; the other tenderly fondled his balls. Holding back was no longer possible.
"Sister, I can't..."
"Already? You can't last a little longer?"
"I caaan't... I can't hooold it..."
"Haha — alright. Cum as much as you want. Don't hold back. Let it all out."
At her words, Leopold stopped fighting and came.
Spurt — splash —
"Nnhhh♡"
Pale semen erupted from him, shot into the air, and fell back down, streaking his body.
"That's a lot. Have you not touched yourself even once since I did?"
"Nngh... hh..."
He hung his head, gasping. It felt as though every ounce of strength had drained out of him.
"Go on, then. Be careful on your way back."
"Yes. I'll see you tomorrow."
On the path back to the Detached Villa, her touch and her voice still seemed to cling to his ears. And he was ashamed — ashamed that her praise had been enough to excite him.
"There's no way... I'm not actually enjoying this life, am I?"
He muttered it to himself as he stepped into the Detached Villa and shut the door. He fell asleep without being able to deny the question he had asked.