Petite Problems and Persistent Arousals
I couldn't cram all that assistant nonsense in there, so I left the bathroom, entrusting the cleanup to the girl.
I dried off my body and flung open the wardrobe, but there was nothing fit to wear. The pants might've sorta worked if I hitched them over my hips, but they would've been too uncomfortable, so I set them aside. Panties were the same story. If I couldn't change my body back, I might have to cut and hem them. But that was a problem for later—I needed something to wear now. My skin prickled faintly. Damp strands of hair clung to me, siphoning away my body heat. With no other choice, I threw on my favorite white shirt. A glance in the mirror showed it draping loosely, exposing my shoulders entirely, and if I bent over, my breasts would probably peek out too. It was a tantalizing sight, one I'd gratefully devour in someone else... but this was my body. Sure, it turned me on, but without a dick to do anything about it, I just sighed. Still, it beat wandering around naked, so I straightened it out roughly and draped a robe over top. Even that trailed on the floor. I hadn't noticed earlier amid the chaos.
As I descended, wiping dust from the hem, I spotted a trail of grime from the workshop to the bathroom. I grabbed the mop and scrubbed until it was gone. It took more effort than expected—I was panting hard. ...Was I always this out of shape?
I tossed the mop aside and caught my breath when footsteps approached. It was the girl. Still naked, of course. At least she'd dried off—that was praiseworthy. She glanced between me and the mop, then picked it up and started cleaning the floor. Honestly? I was touched. Even if my body had turned into this... whether it was worth it remained to be seen, but this alone put me in a good mood.
"Keep cleaning for a bit."
"Yes."
While she mopped, I fetched some clothes for her. The size difference between our bodies wasn't huge, but nothing fit perfectly. The sight of her in baggy clothes sloshing around with the mop wasn't exactly appealing. It made me look like some cruel merchant abusing a slave. Tailoring was urgent. After tidying the workshop and brewing tomorrow's potions, but damn, it was basically top priority now. With that in mind, I hurried to clean up the workshop with her and got started on tomorrow's batch. She picked it up quickly. One explanation, and she got it perfectly, following along like a pro. I could even hand off simple potions. Her usefulness was proven—I was thrilled.
Come to think of it, I should name her. With only basic potions left, I handed them off and propped my chin, lost in thought. Leaning and swaying made drafts whistle through. The extra space let wind tickle my skin. ...No underwear meant it was a bit chilly.
Then something toppled with a clatter. I opened my eyes to see a potion bottle fallen in front of her. She looked flustered too. What happened?
"What’s wrong?"
"The bottle fell over."
"...So why?"
She hesitated, then spoke carefully. "It got hard like before. It bumped the table, and the bottle toppled."
"... ."
Should I name her 'Erection'? The thought crossed my mind, but I shook my head. Too much, even for me. First, the reason.
"So what triggered it this time?"
"You sat on the chair, leaned forward showing your skin, and fidgeted. That's what did it."
"...You some pubescent boy?"
"It keeps bumping the table. I can't get close. I'm sorry, Mother."
"...Don't call me Mother."
"You're my mother—what else should I call you?"
I hadn't taught her my name. Maybe because I never liked it much. Part of why I left home to open this workshop. ...It suits this new body pretty well, though.
"Astarote Asha. Skip the family name—just call me Asha-nim. For your name... I'll think a bit more."
"Understood."
Now that I looked, her shirt was indeed tented out. It had lost all function as clothing, exposing her pale thighs and the tip of her rigidly erect clitoris. I sighed involuntarily.
"...Any sign of it going down?"
"Similar to before."
I pondered briefly. Thanks to her, we'd nearly hit quota. Since it was already up, why not do a physical exam and collect a sample? Might find clues.
"Hold on."
I propped her up and fetched a large beaker, handing it over. She tilted her head. Ferocious thing or not, it was cute.
"Might as well—blow it out like before into that."
"Understood."
She nodded, gripping the beaker in one hand. I figured she'd stroke that rigid rod, but contrary to expectation, she couldn't. It was too big for that. Looked like I had to hold the beaker.
"Give it here."
I snatched it, squatted in front of her, and held it up. "Now you can, right?"
"...Yes."
It looked even more swollen... imagination? From below, it seemed huge. Heat radiated through the glass. Before I could react, she gripped the shaft with both hands and started rubbing. She remembered the good spots, focusing on the glans-like head with back-and-forth strokes. The more I watched, the more fascinating it got. What kind of structure is this...?
Precum slickened it from swish-swish to squelch-squelch. A beautiful girl jerking her own oversized clit—it was surreal. Well, I'd suddenly turned female; a dick wasn't out of the question. No, both are weird.
"It's... coming soon."
"Uh, yeah."
Not thick-skinned enough to stare openly at her masturbation, I zoned out with other thoughts until her voice pulled me back. Then glorp-glorp, spurt—her seed splashed into the beaker. The heat seeped through the glass. Imagining it without the beaker, straight to my face... not pleasant. Like I'd been demoted to disposable tissue. Probably just AV fantasy from my past life. ...How much is she pumping out? My arm was getting sore. I might drop it. Finally, the spurt-spurt tapered off.
"I think... that's all."
"...Good. You did well."
Did well? Debatable. As I set the half-full beaker down, splat!—something hot hit my crown. Sticky fluid trickled slowly down my face. I froze, clueless.
"Sorry. A bit left over, it seems."
"...Fuck."
Swallowing a curse, I sealed the beaker, stashed it in storage, and ordered her. "I'm going to wash up—finish the rest. You can now, right?"
"Yes."
She wouldn't say no! Erect or not, I didn't care anymore. The stickiness was revolting. I bolted to the bathroom. How many showers was this? The mirror greeted me: a light pink-haired girl in a loose shirt and robe, white globs on her head, face scrunched in disgust. Mood: utter shit. Felt like used tissue wiping leftover cum. I shed the unsoiled robe and hit the red button. Hot water poured; it trickled down slowly. I tilted my head to keep it from my mouth. Long rinse, but still sticky. I soaped up and scrubbed until gone. Fuck, this is insane. Couldn't even get mad—I'd told her to cum. Exhausted once clean. Come to think, no food all day, just work. Rinsed soap, stood under the stream—a sweet scent wafted in.
"Soap smell always like this?"
I sniffed the unfamiliar aroma, but it was just the usual soap. Imagination. I dried off. Too long under hot water—body felt feverish. This fragile form ached a bit. Finish up and crash. Not even hungry. Recalling earlier, I dried thoroughly. Gotta cut hair or buy tools—towel alone takes forever. Dragging my heated body back to the workshop, the girl had finished and waited. Hard to hate her. Sighing, I patted her head and organized potions. Didn't want to check storage... that stuff. She seemed to have libido, but appetite and sleep? Unknown. Just in case, I fed her the lunch sandwich and headed to the bedroom. Only one bed—no guests anyway. Not that I lack friends; I don't host. Anyway. Smaller frame made the bed huge for two. Told her basics—bathroom, essentials. Shoved my feverish body under covers and passed out. Exhaustion hit fast; sleep came instantly.