The Author's Femme-Writing Is Dead Serious

I had to kiss a guy just to copy his skill?

That told me everything I needed to know about how sadistic this author really was. The copy condition was so ridiculous my head was spinning. Don't tell me every single condition was going to be like this?

This time, I used Analysis on a different male student.

"Analysis."

"Check condition."

"GYAAAAAAAAAH!"

Students' eyes snapped toward me from every direction as I let out that unholy scream right in the middle of the academy park. I'd been dumped into this insane novel as its worthless protagonist — how was I supposed to live through this without tearing my own hair out?

"What are you looking at? Enjoying the show? Never seen someone lose their mind before? Get lost!"

The moment I barked at them, the students muttered among themselves and scattered in a hurry.

"What's her problem..."

"Did she lose control of her mana and go berserk?"

"A freshman? Look at the attitude on her... she's a total psycho."

Mana control? Attitude? Give me a break. I was just furious that I'd been reduced to a life of sucking some guy's balls.

Wait... guys...? An erotic novel...? Then maybe—!

A tremendous idea punched straight through my brain. This novel didn't only have men in it, did it?

A female student happened to be walking past right then, and I used Analysis on her immediately.

"Analysis."

Doing dirty things with a guy was something I'd rather die than do. Which meant, by process of elimination, that I wanted to do dirty things with girls!

From everything I'd seen so far, the academy's gender ratio was about fifty-fifty. More girls meant more skills I could copy without having to suck anyone's balls. A little scissoring, pussy on pussy, would be great. Making out with a pretty girl — lick-lick — would be great too. I'd suck on their nipples with real dedication. Getting mine sucked would be fine by me as well. If they wanted, I'd even plant a deep kiss right on their pussy.

From this moment on, I was turning this novel into a TS yuri story! Eat shit, you bastard author!

Alright! Bring it on! The start of my happy yuri academy life!

"Check condition!"

"Uuuugh... you fucking bitch of an author!"

"Ghhhhhhhkk!"

"How am I supposed to not curse.... Why the hell are the copy conditions like this?!"

"Why? You're asking me why? Is there something wrong with your head?"

"Haa.... I am so close to dropping every slur I know."

"I didn't actually curse. Don't do that electric thing."

"What?"

"Shit..."

I looked around. People were watching me, whispering and laughing. Unlike earlier, when I'd been completely out of my mind, I was fully lucid this time — and taking in all those ridicule-laced stares made my face burn with shame. I ducked my head to hide the flush, then bolted straight into the dorms.

"I thought you were writing a novel. Why'd you show up so fast?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Hah.... You know what, never mind. Ah! Right. If I die, what happens to me?"

"What?"

"Body? Soul?"

"Then what's my body doing right now?"

"Working?"

If the author was telling the truth, that meant nobody had any idea the "real" me was gone. Was I supposed to be grateful my family wouldn't worry? Or miserable that not a single person knew I'd disappeared?

With someone this powerful involved... even if my real body had just vanished, nobody would have found me anyway.

"Hah.... Nothing. More importantly, can you change the copy conditions?"

"Change it so I can copy girls' skills through special conditions too."

"Then at least change the conditions for the guys!"

"Why should I have to do that kind of thing in a girl's body?!"

"Y-you saw that?!"

"You fucking perverted psychopath bitch!"

"Haaahn! Hnngh! What is thiiis?!"

"Hyaaahn...! Please stooop!"

A staggering wave of pleasure surged up from my clitoris and swallowed my entire body. I'd been lying on the bed, and my hips bucked high off the mattress, unable to endure it.

"P-please stooop.... Hwaaaaaahn!"

Pshhhhhh— pshiiiiiiiit.

The electric shock cut off. My ass and hips, which had been arched high in the air, sank back down — and a gush of hot juices burst out of my pussy, soaking my panties straight through.

"Hyaaah.... what the hell kind of shitty achievement is this...."

"What is...?"

"What do you mean..."

"Just that little?"

Wasn't this girl originally sensitive? The author said she hadn't made Yoo Hana's body feel this much either? That line about me being sensitive from the start had to be a lie.

"Don't give me that crap. When I was in a guy's body I never felt anything like this."

"What's that supposed to mean."

"What...?"

That blushing emoticon was pissing me off for no good reason. Was my sensitivity higher because my soul matched a female body better? Was I a soul that should have been born a woman to begin with?

No. Let's not over-interpret it that far. I'd just treat it as the author's wordplay and empty my head.

I did my best to ignore her and dragged my trembling legs, with considerable effort, all the way to the bathroom. I tossed the soaked panties aside without much care and turned the shower on low. I couldn't afford to climax from the showerhead the way I had last time, so I carefully rinsed the water between my legs.

"Hnnn...."

"Could you... be quiet."

Between the author savoring my humiliation and needling me over it, I was mentally exhausted. This time I dried my lower half with a towel, then went back to the bed and lay down.

"I'm going to sleep now. So get lost."

"I'm not doing that, so go!"

"They got wet because of YOU!"

"Please... just stop..."

"Just shut up!"

Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠after I stopped responding, the author kept pouring on the femme-writing. Titles floated in front of my eyes as text, an entire parade of bitches, each with a name of her own.

At this rate the word bitch was going to get branded into my brain.

"If you keep this up I'm going to kill myself."

"Fuck... what is this, omniscient author POV? You can do every damn thing, huh."

Apparently all that femme-writing had put her in a great mood, because the author rattled on by herself, having the time of her life. I ignored every word and closed my eyes. Once I couldn't see those irritating messages anymore, I felt a little better.

Maybe it was because I'd taken more stress in a single day than I could handle. I was exhausted — body and mind both.

I cracked my eyes open a sliver, and sure enough, those dizzying messages were still there. I'd just pretend I hadn't seen them.

Beep-beep-beep-beep— beep-beep-beep-beep—

I had no memory of setting an alarm. That awful sound just kept blaring out of the smartphone.

The second I opened my eyes, the last thing I wanted to see was waiting for me. Fuck. It wasn't a dream. Had the author set this? Annoying me the instant I woke up.

"Ugh... why the chaos first thing in the morning."

"There's still a whole hour until nine?"

"Haa... can I sleep five more minutes?"

"You're not my mom..."

The author was right. A woman's body came with long hair, and washing it took forever. After rushing through getting ready one way or another, I stood in front of the closet with a grave expression on my face, ten minutes left before I had to leave for school.

All because of that bastard author and her idea of a joke.