You Want Me to Put *What* Where?
The blonde girl in a maid uniform answered coldly and curtly.
"You can't possibly be thinking of showing up late to the Dildo Class, your very first lesson? Get changed and come out. Now."
*Click.*
She said her piece and shut the door behind her, just like that.
(No, wait—what the fuck is a dildo class? Hold on. Dildo class... as in—)
(No way. No way. No way.)
Trying desperately to deny it, I stepped out without even changing, and the hallway was packed with beautiful girls in maid uniforms as far as the eye could see.
"Glay, I don't care how excited you are—you still have to get dressed. You have one minute."
White hair tied back in a bun... I'd seen that face before.
It was Emilia, the head maid from the novel I'd been reading just moments ago. White hair, dark eyes tinged with red, an enormous chest—every detail matched.
(There's no way that many people look like that in real life without it being cosplay... wait, no, but why— well, whatever...)
Barely wrangling my stalled brain back into motion, I retreated to my room and slowly opened the wardrobe. Inside were four maid uniforms and five sets of underwear.
And of course, nothing ordinary—these were adult garments designed to leave both nipples and pussy fully exposed.
"What the hell is this..."
Reality crashed down on me, and I somehow forced my brain to restart long enough to change. If this really was that novel, then the protagonist—that twisted son of a bitch with his warped sense of ethics—would do the obvious the moment he learned a man had been TS'd into a woman's body. *Ooh, a TS'd man? Mwah.* Or, *What's that? You weren't hypnotized? Here, just look into this phone screen.* Some scheme or another, guaranteed.
Or failing that, he'd mount her to a wall and use her as a living onahole.
Being bolted into place and pounded around the clock by an automatic dildo-press machine was not on my bucket list.
Somehow, some way, I had to escape this place.
First, I needed to figure out what day it was. After all, I was a transmigrator from the novel—which meant I had the privilege of knowing the future.
*Whew.* Genuinely, absolutely, one-hundred-percent against my will, I finished changing, fell into line with the others, and followed them down the corridor and into some massive annex. The enormous mansion along the way looked at least twice the size of its description in the novel.
(Seeing really is believing, huh...)
We entered a room marked Annex A, where mats were laid out at even intervals, each station fitted with a jar of gel and an enormous dildo.
Since my name was apparently Glay now, I made my way to the mat with GLAY written on it and settled in. Once everyone was seated, Emilia—the same woman I'd seen earlier—stepped forward, dildo in one hand, gel in the other.
Then, with the unhurried poise of a yoga instructor, she began her explanation.
"Newcomers, today marks your first lesson: the Dildo Class, designed to prepare you for the Master's magnificent endowment."
"This dildo was molded directly from the Master's cock. He went so far as to arrange this entire class for your benefit—so I expect each of you to give it your all."
Just listening made my skin crawl.
Reading it in the novel, I'd dismissed it as gloriously deranged worldbuilding and jerked off to the descriptions. Having to actually *do* it was another matter entirely. My mind went white.
Emilia then demonstrated the procedure herself, as follows:
1. Press the dildo against the floor until it sticks. 2. If your pussy is small or you're unsure, use the gel; if you're confident, slick it up with your own mouth. 3. Spread yourself open with your fingers and work it in and out, slowly. 4. Once it slides in comfortably, gradually deepen the strokes. 5. The goal is to reach the cervix.
(Maybe I should just... die?)
Caught between living and dying, I was smearing gel onto the dildo with my hand. The viscosity and feel were almost identical to the lube I used back when I was still touching myself normally.
(Seriously... what kind of reverse masturbation is this...)
Once it was properly coated, I hiked up my skirt and got into position—legs spread wide, my panty-clad crotch on shameless display. Reflected in the mirror, my pussy glowed a faint pink, the kind of view that would've had my old male self drooling.
The only problem being that it was, in fact, *me*.
The others were easing themselves onto their toys, rocking up and down tentatively. I couldn't get my hips to move at all. Every time I tried to lower myself, the mere brush of the tip against my clit sent goosebumps racing across my entire body.
While I sat there frozen stiff, Emilia—who had been coaching the girls one by one—approached quietly and placed her hands on my shoulders.
"Glay, are you struggling? Allow me to help."
"Wait, hold on—"
Before I could finish, she pressed down on my shoulders, hard.
*Squelch.*
My entrance twitched and gave way, and then, all at once, the dildo drove up into me at brutal speed.
*Shluuurp.*
"Eek! Hnngh♡"
The massive hunk of silicon plunging into my channel didn't knock at my cervix—it straight-up battered the door down.
A shameless, guttering sound I'd never made once in my entire life burst out of my mouth on pure reflex. Surprise, maybe—or maybe my body simply moved on its own.
My pussy clamped down around the dildo and clenched hard, and still gripping the floor-mounted toy inside me, I pitched forward.
*Thud.*
"Hnngh... ugh..."
As I lay sprawled and shuddering, Emilia came over—and the first words out of her mouth weren't concern, but congratulations.
"Congratulations. You've experienced your first climax. Everyone else, take a page from Glay's book and hurry to experience your own."
*Clap clap clap.*
What a goddamn spectacle.
A crowd of beautiful girls masturbating with dildos, applauding me while I lay collapsed with one still stuffed inside my pussy.
"Your first climax must be exhausting. Allow me to help you."
*Shlurk.*
She drew the dildo out slowly, its molded veins scraping along my walls, teasing every inch on the way.
"Mmnhhh..."
*Squelch.*
*Plip. Plop.*
The gel I'd slathered on earlier was dripping slowly out of my pussy.
"Glay has completed today's lesson with distinction, so you may rest. Feel free to touch your nipples in preparation for the afternoon class."
And once again, she said her piece and left.
(*Haah*... damn it all... what even is this... wait, hold on—the afternoon, touching my nipples?)
(As in, the things attached to *those* breasts?)
I actually considered bolting for the exit right then and there, but my legs had gone boneless and were trembling faintly beneath me.
(*Haah*, forget it. Whatever.)
For now, I decided to rest.
Completely forgetting that my bare ass was still hanging out for everyone to see.
I'd only closed my eyes for what felt like a moment, but fifty minutes had already slipped by. Emilia came over and shook me awake, and I filed out with the others to eat.
Laid out for our meal: seaweed soup with clams, seasoned clam salad, grilled fish, half an egg, and a small handful of almonds.
(Damn it all, give me some *rice*, you bastards.)
I finished the meal without a single grain of rice, and my stomach was full, yet a strange hollowness lingered.
"I'm still kind of hungry..."
Someone had overheard me muttering to myself and came over. The blonde from this morning.
"Glay, you looked exhausted this morning too. What's gotten into you today? Here—drink this and get your strength back."
It came out like a scolding, but there was genuine worry underneath it, so I couldn't really take offense.
She handed me a glass of milk. I accepted it carefully, downed it in one go, and felt a faint thread of vitality run back through my body.
"Thank you..."
I offered my thanks, then stole a careful glance at her name tag to finish the greeting properly.
"Miss Hailey, I feel a lot better thanks to you."
After thanking her again, I slipped cautiously back to my room, flopped onto the bed, and stared blankly at the ceiling. Then I turned my head, swept my eyes around the room one more time, and gave my own cheek a hard pinch.
"Ow."
It hurt—which meant this was, tragically, not a dream.
That got me thinking: surely there was something useful in this room. I sat up and took stock. Bed, wardrobe, desk, vanity. The vanity held cosmetics and assorted skincare products and nothing that looked remotely helpful. The wardrobe offered nothing but maid uniforms and underwear. The bed had no storage space to speak of.
That left the desk.
A desk, inexplicably, fitted with three drawers. Something told me there'd be something in there.
Opening the first drawer proved that feeling right. Inside, neatly arranged, was a dildo set—10cm, 15cm, 20cm, 25cm, 30cm, and one engraved with **Master♡**.
Beneath the drawer of dildos, the second one held jars of gel organized by flavor: strawberry, grape, kiwi.
"These rotten..."
Grumbling curses under my breath, I prayed the last drawer would hold at least one useful thing and yanked it open. Inside: a vibrator, an assortment of interchangeable silicone heads for it, and a set of AAA batteries.
Annoying, sure—but a functional electronic device and batteries was the least-bad option available. I was a first-year electrical engineering student averaging a C+, after all; if I gathered the right materials, something might come of it. I was idly entertaining that thought when reality hit me all over again, and I flopped face-down onto the bed.
"Let's see... it's one o'clock now, next class is at five... ugh, whatever. Nap time."
I slept soundly for three hours—forgetting entirely to take off the maid uniform.
Waking from a deep nap, my head should have been clear. Fat chance. The gel I hadn't fully drained earlier had leaked out overnight and left my panties soaked through.
"Seriously... f—... *haah*... can anything go right today?"
After a long sigh, I shuffled slowly to the wardrobe, pulled out a pair of panties, and hurled them at the floor. Maybe it was the lack of any other outlet for my rage, or maybe it was the frills, the little hearts, and the cut-out at the ass that pushed me over the edge. I hissed and fumed by myself for a while, wiped my face once, then slumped down onto the floor and muttered:
"Man... I wish I was like every other isekai protagonist, with some broken cheat skill and a status window or whatever—"
And then, suddenly, a blue-tinted window popped into existence right in front of my eyes.
"Huh? Huh?! So I *am* a transmigrator? Reincarnator? It was my special bonus all along!"
Then I read what the status window actually said, and it was more than enough to plunge me into despair.