Undressing the Saintess — The Strip Show
Aftermath or no aftermath, my leg had been healed without a trace, and returning to my old apartment was a relief and all... but there was a far more pressing problem staring me in the face.
"I don't have any clothes..."
The ID card from my days as a man, the bachelor-stink one-room, the shabby men's wardrobe — the forced gender swap hadn't changed a single one of them.
C'mon, can't you at least buy me some new clothes?
[Request denied. Panicking over your transformed body while agonizing over what to wear is, itself, part of Slutsaintess Horniness Studies.]
"...You perverted bastard."
[Reward. Much appreciated.]
"God, I hate you so much."
Every time I talked with this degenerate — whether it was a status window, a goddess, or something in between — I could feel my SAN points quietly draining away.
Well... I'd just have to throw on whatever T-shirt I could find.
"Nngh — there we go."
As it turned out, my old clothes fit my new body better than I'd expected.
The loose boxer briefs and pants I'd worn for years clung tight now, straining against my newly generous hips and rear...
And the white T-shirt, its collar already stretched out from a man's wear, lost the battle against my overflowing chest and pulled taut across it like a drumhead.
"Let's gooo~"
Figuring I was dressed well enough, I shuffled outside in my slippers. First stop, the convenience store for some food — then a clothing shop, so I could buy an actual wardrobe.
"Haaahaaam..."
Inside the convenience store, the morning rush had come and gone, leaving the place quiet and empty.
Kim Muhammad, an ordinary part-timer of Arab descent, let out a long, leisurely yawn.
...Some punks from the local high school had come in teasing him, asking if he really didn't eat pork, and only after treating them to an impromptu hot bar mukbang had he finally managed to chase them out.
"Ahh, I'm this close to achieving martyrdom~"
Tormented yet again by the fucking racists who frequented his store, he muttered the empty joke under his breath...
Ring-ring-ring.
"W-welcome in!"
"Hello there~"
"...A Houri?"
In a faraway foreign land, Kim Muhammad came face to face with an angel of Islam.
"Ooh... to lay eyes upon a celestial being I have only ever seen in the Quran..."
"I'm sorry?"
"Ah... n-nothing at all, ma'am..."
"Hmm-hm, is that so?"
The woman who had just walked into the store didn't sneer at his nonsense in the slightest — she simply smiled warmly, eyes crinkling with a soft laugh.
A white T-shirt straining over curves that threatened to tear it apart, and a pair of alluring crimson eyes.
And in that instant, Kim Muhammad felt his faith begin to waver — from its very foundations.
That figure, if simply left loose upon the world, was the kind that would drag countless honest men down into the bottomless pit of sin.
'Someone should put a hijab on that woman...'
He wanted to veil that lewd body from the world — and for that woman, he would gladly accept martyrdom itself.
"Excuse me~ do you happen to have any more lunchboxes?"
"Ah... one moment, p-please!"
Of course, his overclocked fantasy circuit came screeching to a halt at that gentle voice.
CRASH!
But had he been too flustered? Right there in front of a Houri, he went and knocked the entire stack of lunchboxes over.
"Ah... O, O Allah..."
In that instant, a parade of every horrible customer he'd endured over his year of night shifts flashed before Muhammad's eyes like a dying man's life replaying.
'Hey, you foreign laborer bastard! Where the hell are your eyes when you run a shop?!'
'What if that had splashed on my clothes?! You illegals, I swear—!'
'Get me the manager, NOW! One call to the district office and I'll have you deported back to your own country?!'
The curses of the neighborhood geezers who reeked of booze every dawn, grabbing him by the collar and spitting as they yelled.
'It's over...'
He was terrified that this radiant, beautiful woman might curse him out just like all the rest...
"Are you okay? Let me help you with that."
"...Huh?"
Far from berating him, she crouched down and began gathering the fallen lunchboxes one by one, her eyes full of genuine concern.
"Take your time."
"Th... thank you so much..."
"Of course I'd help. You've come all this way from a distant land and worked so hard already."
She was an angel in the truest sense of the word.
That gentle manner, that thoughtful kindness.
And yet, cursed be himself — bewitched by those enormous faith pouches pressed against her thighs as she crouched, and by those alluring crimson eyes.
"I'd like to check out now, please."
"Y-yes, of course!"
With her help, the lunchboxes went back on the shelf, and he continued ringing her up with trembling hands, scanning each barcode.
Beep.
~This item's part of our one-plus-one promotion~
"Take this one, please."
"...I'm sorry?"
"One can is plenty for me anyway. Drink this and keep your strength up."
"Th... thank you very much."
"You have a good day now~"
"..."
Jingle.
She handed over the energy drink with a bright, sunny smile and was gone — and Kim Muhammad stood there, dazed, staring after her retreating figure.
"Hnngh... the stares are a little much."
[Answer: That would be because your female pheromones are far too potent.]
"Shut it."
After leaving the convenience store, every pair of eyes on the street was glued to me — and not one of them was subtle about it.
Face, chest, butt, thighs... wow, they're really giving everything an equal, thorough once-over.
Maybe this is why women are so sensitive to other people's gazes.
"Okay. Clothing store, here I come."
Once I got some big, thick, baggy clothes on, all these stares would disappear.
Ding-a-ling!
"Welcome! This is Beauty Étoile!"
"Uh... hi there..."
The moment I stepped inside, the shopgirl's sky-high energy started draining me before we'd even exchanged ten words.
I barely ever talked to women, so this was honestly a little scary...
"What kind of clothes are you looking for today?"
"Uh... um... anything's fine..."
"...Anything?"
Huh. I think I just picked the wrong dialogue option.
One sentence and the clerk's eyes had rolled halfway back into her skull.
"Hnnnnmmmm?"
"Eep...?!"
And with that, her eyes went bloodshot like the Eye of Sauron, and she began scanning every inch of my body from head to toe.
"A ratty old men's shirt and pants... and no bra?"
"Wh... uh..."
"GUILTY! ASSET CONFISCATION!! DEATH PENALTY!!!"
At last the clerk's face twisted into something like a goblin's, and she pointed an accusing finger as she shouted.
"Wh... why are you doing this?!"
"Letting a body that sexy rot away is a crime of the highest order!!! There is no room for hesitation!!!"
"KYAAAAH?!"
Out of nowhere, the clerk shoved me into the fitting room and started tearing my clothes off.
"Let's have a look at that booty...! Show me the booty...!"
"Hnngh...!"
Swwwish!
Then she pressed a measuring tape against my half-naked body and, huffing steam from her nostrils, began taking my three sizes.
"J-cup...?"
As she measured, the clerk's pupils had started trembling more and more.
"A 23-inch waist... and 44-inch hips?"
"Um... excuse me?"
"Damn it all. To think a body like this was beyond what a shop like ours could ever handle."
She tucked the measuring tape away and murmured with the hollow look of total defeat.
"It's over..."
"What is wrong with you?"
Anyone watching would think she was some hero from the future whose weapon had just shattered.
"...I sincerely apologize. As compensation for my rudeness, I'll have underwear custom-made and sent to you later."
"Oh no, you really don't have to—"
"And please, take anything in the store you'd like."
"...Really? I can?"
"Of course. I own this building."
"Whoa..."
And so, thanks to the landlord's grace, my old rags were thrown in the trash and I walked out with a brand-new wardrobe.
Is this stuff actually any good?
"For everyday wear, you really can't go wrong with dolphin pants and a tank top."
"Uh-huh... sure..."
"And if you're not into showing skin, there's also track wear, and this as well..."
"Mm-hmm..."
I knew absolutely nothing about women's fashion, so I just took whatever she handed me.
"These don't fit at all, though?"
"Ah."
Jeans, of every variety, were completely off the table.
When I tried to pull a pair up over my hips... I genuinely thought the fabric was going to rip apart at the seams.
"A dress suits you wonderfully!"
"Mmgh... it feels way too... empty down there..."
The one piece of clothing that felt properly feminine was a sky-blue dress.
Though with the cold draft whooshing freely up through the open space between my legs, I figured I probably wouldn't be wearing it much.
"What a day. Been a while — time to check in on the gallery~"
Arms laden with shopping bags, I flopped onto my bed the moment I got home and opened up my spiritual homeland: the gallery.
Monster Disposal Special Civil Service Gallery
It had been quite a while since I last browsed, and quite a few posts had made it to the front page.
Ahh, that sweet, nostalgic stench of wretched lives.
Bad grades, weak stamina. This is literally all I'm good for
"Well, at least they never peddle hope."
Every single one of these gallery users was living a wretched life, but the moment some happy, hopeful bastard crawled in, they'd hound them out without fail.
Officially it was because "too many workers means less work to go around"... but hey, not my problem.
He was a well-liked registered user who shitposted nonstop, but I haven't seen him around lately...
"Tch. I'm alive, you know."
I hadn't posted in the gallery for a while, so people assumed I was dead.
Sooner or later I'd have to register as an Awakened and get new ID.
Whether my old coworkers would believe it was really me, though...
"Whew... oh, so I did make it. Thank god."
Granted, reading the article's actual contents made me curl my toes in secondhand embarrassment — but the warm, fuzzy feeling won out, and I read it through to the very end.
"...Huh."
And then a slightly shocking piece of news followed.
"Thank you, mister, for saving me."
"You saved my life, so now I'm going to save people too — exactly like you did."
"Hehh... looks like I just ruined a perfectly good girl's life."
Watching the interview with the girl I'd saved left my heart in knots.
With a face like that she could've just been an idol — why on earth would she pick such a dangerous line of work?
[Start streaming. NOW. Get a camera. I'm in a hurry.]
And so, right in the middle of my hardcore gallery session, the status window started nagging me to get the broadcast going.
"The inside of the Tower has built-in streaming, remember?"
[u insane??? that's beside the point — no way you're gonna laze around at home shitposting and rage-quitting games???]
"Yeah, yeah~ just hold on."
Well, it wasn't like anything was urgent at this exact second. I figured I'd leisurely grill up some meat first.
[Shall I make your breasts even BIGGER, then?]
"F... fine. I'll register as an Awakened tomorrow and start then, okay?!"
But at the status window's final ultimatum, my head hit the floor instantly.
Once registration was done tomorrow, I'd have to start some kind of broadcast — Tower-internal streaming, real-world streaming, something, anything.
[Works for me? K-CUPS LET'S GOOOOOO!!!!]
"NO!"
Seriously, though — if these things got any bigger, daily life was going to get really difficult...