Murder to Silence (3)
"Nngh…"
"Anyone watching would think you were the one who almost died."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Cali…"
"If you're sorry, then stop crying and act like you normally do. This is uncomfortable."
Honestly, that body of hers was half the problem. Those enormous breasts pressed right up against me, soft and yielding, clinging like she had no intention of letting go. And the moment I tried to peel her off, she only clung tighter, rubbing against me with a stubborn little refusal that made it impossible to stay angry.
How was anyone supposed to stay mad when all the blood in their body was rushing straight to their cock?
At this point it wasn't my head getting angry anymore. It was my dick.
"Was the thought of me dying that unbearable? I mean, you did hesitate a few times."
"Th-that's not something you just say! C-Cali is… Cali is my…"
My what, exactly?
She seemed to realize there was nothing she could claim beyond roommate and friend. In the end she gave up on answering and buried her face in my shoulder instead.
And seriously — I still couldn't get used to that voice.
"Your real voice is this pretty, and yet you spent all that time forcing it down low. How much work did that take?"
"…I'm used to it now. I don't really think about it."
Fair enough. She'd been insisting she was a boy since she was little, so she'd been crafting both voices since before puberty even hit. By now she could switch between them as freely as a voice actress.
Which meant that whenever I caught one of her soft little moans, it confirmed exactly what I'd expected — Nia's natural voice was ridiculously cute. Listening to it felt like being healed. It reminded me of the tiny sounds a kitten or a puppy might make, and I liked it more than I should have.
Getting used to it was hard. But the second I imagined that same voice making filthy, whimpering noises, my cock started aching even worse.
I really shouldn't be fantasizing about a friend like that.
Then again, when she was naked and tormenting my dick like this, it was hard to argue that the problem was entirely mine.
"How long are you planning to stay glued to me?"
"Just a little longer… You know how it is. You don't realize how precious something is until you almost lose it…"
She was the one who'd deliberately tried to kill me, and now she was saying that?
I couldn't help it — a laugh burst out of me. She really did have a stubborn, blocked-up streak. No wonder she'd been so twisted up inside, telling herself she couldn't do this and she couldn't do that.
"So. Did you finally make a decision you're satisfied with?"
"…Probably."
I stroked her hair gently, helping her settle. I was the one who'd nearly died, and somehow I was the one doing the comforting. Absurd didn't even begin to cover it — and yet the intoxicating sensation of her lewd body pressed against mine was healing me right back.
God. That completely unselfconscious, boyish, huge-breasted heroine energy was doing things to me.
"You're completely defenseless…"
She hung on for a long time after that. Eventually she must have forgotten she was naked entirely, because she fell asleep right there in my arms. I laid her down on the bed, took a proper look at her body, then pulled the blanket over her and let her sleep.
I hadn't noticed earlier, but there were faint bruise-like marks around her chest. So she really had been binding them with bandages.
"Alright. Nia's taken care of. Time to start drafting the next work."
Based on what we'd talked about earlier, I needed to show that women in my stories could take on roles traditionally reserved for men. But that was something that would seep into my work naturally whether I forced it or not. As long as my aversion to male characters stuck around, it was inevitable.
Still… I do want to scrub away some of the bad press around deceiving people by switching genders.
Even if public opinion shifted enough to accept a woman becoming king, the fact that Nia had spent years lying to everyone about being a man wasn't going to vanish. For her to come out and live as herself, people needed a path toward forgiving her.
Of course, drawing a comic purely to manage public opinion was a bad idea. But picking from among concepts I'd already wanted to draw? That seemed fair enough.
So even if I keep refining the exact genre, the core idea stays — a crossdressing male protagonist.
Most of the people arguing that women shouldn't be kings were men, after all. And for those men to get invested, a male protagonist was the safer bet. Crossdressing would raise some barriers, sure — but I could build a solid reason for it.
"As for the female cast…"
Here I wanted something different from my usual approach. Soft, delicate girls who embodied the classic ideal of feminine beauty. Pure, innocent, white-lily characters — the kind that looked like they'd never been touched by the world.
Fundamentally, the base is a pure harem free-for-all — one guy surrounded by nothing but girls, taking them all. But…
I still needed a convincing reason for the protagonist to crossdress his way into an all-girls academy. Something that would light a fire under a male reader's heart. Something that felt righteous rather than shady. And I'd weave in the daily hardships of living in disguise, so readers would understand the burden of hiding your gender — and grow more generous toward that kind of situation.
…I'm casually threading the intent through the outline, and it barely looks different from before I added it.
If I was being honest with myself, I'd just wanted to draw this story. Using Nia as the excuse might have been secondary.
I wasn't even particularly into otokonoko or crossdressing content. The problem was that this setup was a cheat code — nothing but girls in every direction, ready to be claimed. Walking away from that had been genuinely hard. I'd always wanted to draw one of those brainless harem free-for-alls at least once.
"I'd left the setting open for more thought, but no matter how I look at it, nothing beats the original idea — an academy."
Not one of this world's adult-only academies. A place that adults attended, yes, but one that sat on top of a finishing school where girls had been gathered from childhood to learn the arts of ladylike beauty. Graduating from that elementary finishing school and arriving at the academy as pure, clueless young women was the standard path.
The protagonist would enter through the academy itself. Most of the other students would be finishing-school alumnae, so he'd face discrimination as an outsider — and slowly, stubbornly, win over the kind-hearted girls one by one.
Some people might call it cliché. But damn if it doesn't work.
Just like Nia getting caught by me, the protagonist would eventually have an episode where his identity as a man was exposed at the academy. Naturally, it'd be the girls who already had interest in him or some kind of bond. And those girls — raised in an academy that never taught them a single thing about sex — would approach a man for the first time knowing nothing about cocks, nothing about sex, nothing about men at all. I'd draw that raw curiosity. And from that curiosity, the erotic acts would begin, and the sex fantasy of them becoming slaves to pleasure would lock into place.
Those episodes were basically the main course of the whole concept.
And I'd justify it by pretending to show how pitiful the protagonist is…
Once the girls tasted pleasure, they'd become filthy little things who couldn't give up a cock. They'd use his secret as leverage and force him into sex again and again. Calling it coercion was generous, really — it was just horny girls coming back for more of what they'd already been fucked by. But to the reader, the fact that he'd been blackmailed after being outed as a crossdresser would stick, and become part of the hardship he'd endured.
And crossdressing meant wearing clothes that didn't account for a male body. A girl's panties weren't exactly built to contain a cock. A skirt could hide it most of the time — but every time he got hard, the panic of nearly being caught would matter.
Which means drawing the girls in defenseless, arousing situations is just as important.
The male readers' cocks needed to empathize with the protagonist. The girls had to be drawn hot enough that the audience got hard right alongside him — and then watching him suffer because of that erection would make him feel genuinely pitiful. Of course, the sex scenes themselves would look incredible, so in those moments the reader would feel envy instead, and the immersion would spike. That balance was everything.
Crossdressing was a kind of suffering that crushed conventional masculinity. And the protagonist would endure it anyway, chasing the goal he desperately wanted to reach. No — he would reach it, and he'd be happy. The reader needed to feel that sense of achievement with him. That was how the crossdressing would be justified as something that had been necessary all along.
Yeah. This is solid.
I still hadn't locked down the exact reason for the protagonist's enrollment, or the individual concepts for each girl. Plenty of basic setting work remained. But the fundamental flow was fully mapped out now, and that was a relief.
"Maybe it's because Nia was the spark for this idea, but so many of the details hit harder because of her."
All that time she'd been casually showing me her cock — her naked body — without a second thought. The sexual shame of realizing the person you'd been doing that with was actually a girl. The awkwardness of discovering that your closest friend was the opposite gender all along.
If I flipped the genders and wrote those feelings down, I could make something with real authenticity.