Porter: Johann 15 – The Cursed Witch's Garb
“Porter! Look at this!”
The Priest pointed at the weathered treasure chest with a voice brimming with joy. The anxiety she'd felt when they first got lost had melted away like cotton candy in water. Walking with Johann made her fearless—even savage monster attacks held no terror.
Indeed, as the pair wandered the dungeon in search of an exit, quite a few monsters had ambushed them. But Johann dispatched them effortlessly every time, allowing the two to explore like seasoned adventurers, lighting the way ahead.
Her heart pounded. A thrilling shiver spread deep in her chest, drawing a bright smile from the Priest. She'd never felt this rush even on adventures with the Hero or the Mage. This time, I'm pulling my weight.
“Priest, could you take a look at my right arm?”
“Of course! My clinic's open 24/7! I'll patch it right up!”
The Priest healed Johann's arm with her light magic. It wasn't injured to begin with, so there was nothing to heal. Johann flexed it this way and that, inspecting it like a rusty robot checking its joints.
“All good?”
Johann nodded with a warm, friendly smile at the Priest gazing up at him with wide, uplifted eyes—like a cat begging for pets. It was unbearably cute. His hand nearly reached out on instinct.
“Your healing is incredible, Priest. It's like it never happened.”
“Ahem! This is just standard stuff.”
She said that, but her cheeks flushed ripe-peach red with delight at the praise. The Priest had no knack for hiding her feelings—not even a fingernail's worth. It was a boon for Johann.
“Porter, let's open this treasure chest!”
“The last one had a shield, right? Can't wait to see what's in this one.”
“Hehe. This is the third already. We never found this many with the Hero... You must bring good luck, Porter!”
She said it with eyes sparkling like stars.
She was half right. Johann's Darkness Radar had pinpointed the chests' locations. Of course, he kept that to himself.
“Wonder what the reward is this time...”
The lock was half-broken. A slight twist by hand popped it open—no tools needed. Even a country housewife could manage it.
Normally, opening a dungeon treasure chest without an appraisal skill was half-suicide. But Johann was confident he could handle even a mimic.
Clank!
The chest opened. No mimic—thankfully. Though his strength could've crushed one anyway.
Inside lay black clothing, crumpled beyond recognition until pulled out.
“What's this?”
Johann lifted it. Holding the shoulders, he unfurled it, revealing a full-body black stocking.
“What a unique outfit!”
It was new to the Priest too. She tilted her head, scrutinizing its shape.
“There's a staff in there too, with the clothes. And this—is it a hat? Hmm...”
The chest held a matching black set: staff, hat, and more. Only after emptying it did Johann guess the theme.
“Looks like gear for a black mage or sorcerer.”
The staff was adorned with goat-skull bone, the hat bore an ominous pentagram magic circle. The stocking was etched with shamanic runes up close.
“Yeah. We could get a good price at a general store!”
The Priest's take. But Johann envisioned a far better use.
“It's spoils of war for once—why not try it on, Priest?”
“Me?”
Her eyes widened, finger pointing at herself in surprise.
“Yes. You've worked hard too. Claim a trophy.”
“Th-that's sweet, but... the fit doesn't seem right for me...”
True enough, the shaman garb was skin-tight on sight. Her current Priest robes were loose, concealing her figure entirely—designed to quell impure thoughts.
This was different. No exposed skin, but the rubbery fabric would hug and highlight every curve.
A zipper ran right over the crotch for easy access. Johann had other ideas for it.
The Priest had never seen, let alone worn, anything like it. Naturally, she panicked.
“It'd suit you perfectly.”
His words hooked her gaze to the outfit. They softened her resolve.
“R-really...?”
Odd. One compliment from him tickled her heart like a bug inside. Not bad—precious, even. A dopey smile escaped.
“If you say so, Porter...”
“I'll step away.”
Johann turned politely, creating distance. His watchful eyes captured her every move in real-time.
She hesitated, then began shedding her baggy robes piece by piece. First time stripping in a dungeon. Utterly defenseless, body and soul.
“No peeking!”
“Of course not.”
His instant reply left her oddly disappointed. Shocking—she craved his gaze? The Priest was changing, slowly.
It clings tight, just like I thought.
Donning it was no picnic. She'd never worn anything this form-fitting.
Slipping a leg in, she tripped and fell on her butt. Blushing, she scanned for Johann.
It took ten minutes to change. She'd never imagined swapping one outfit could be so grueling.
“Porter, sorry to keep you. All done.”
She called him immediately—craving his verdict.
“Just as I pictured. Suits you far better than the robes.”
No flattery. The robes gave a pure vibe but hid her beauty like Korean snack packaging.
This shaman suit clung to her skin, baring her perfect curves shamelessly. Even the groin zipper taunted him.
“I-it's... really embarrassing.”
She averted her eyes, sweating bullets. Johann's gaze roamed shamelessly, appraising every inch.
Figure's B+ to A. Breasts a tad small, but overall stellar.
Just as hoped—balanced, alluring. The stocking amplified her sensuality into reverse-appeal perfection.
“How's the fit?”
“Kinda tight, but comfier than expected. Maybe some magic treatment.”
Likely. Dungeon loot.
“Still, my robes feel better. Ngh. Can I change back?”
“Shame—it looks great.”
“Hehe. I prefer my usual.”
Too embarrassing otherwise. If not Johann, she'd never have tried it.
He didn't press. His surveillance eyes had archived it all. Credit.com upload would rake in from fetish fans.
She reached to change back. But... it wouldn't budge.
“Huh? Wh-what's wrong...?”
The stocking clung like a second skin. No amount of tugging worked—it fused with her.
Outmatched by her own strength, she pouted and called for help.
“Porter! Something's wrong with this outfit!”
“What do you mean?”
“It won't come off!”
Johann approached.
“Won't come off?”
“Yes! Is it... cursed!?”
Indeed, it seemed bonded to her flesh. Tugs only pinched skin.
“Ow! It hurts!”
“Sorry.”
“No, but... what now?”
She glanced down. The feel had changed—navel now peeked over the clinging fabric. It was fusing even now.
“Cursed item, huh. Tricky.”
“Can't break the curse myself. Need church help...”
“Then back to the village first.”
Delicious turn. Johann eyed her body-stocking form anew—like living body paint. Ass outline perfection.
Killer hips too.
He loved this outfit. A mere curse was trivial.