The crowd’s roar still echoed—cheers for that blonde prick who’d yanked the Holy Sword free, the sword gleaming like it was mocking my failure. My own attempt had ended in a jolt of pain, a fsh of runes searing my palms, and now they throbbed faintly under my clenched fists. But that wasn’t what had my heart racing.

  [System Online: Welcome, Lily Harper.]

  The blue screen had fred in my mind as I’d shoved through the exiting throng, crisp text hovering like a game prompt. Then, before I could blink:

  [Quest: “Kill a goblin.”]

  A quest. A real fucking quest. I smirked, lips twitching as my imagination spun: me swinging a sword, smashing some goblin’s skull, cracking open a glowing chest. The Academy’s humid air clung to my skin, but I barely felt it, lost in the fantasy of it all—my own isekai moment, finally real.

  “Lily?” Ethan’s voice poked through, small and shaky. He was trailing me, his Support robe bunched at the shoulders, dark hair flopping over his eyes. “That sword pull was wild, right? You think he’s really the second coming of the hero? Like… does that mean something evil’s gonna rise up again?”

  “Uh-huh,” I muttered, barely registering him. Kill a goblin. My brain tched onto it, spinning. A goblin—cssic starter trash mob, the kind of thing every noob in every isekai anime cuts their teeth on. But what kind of system was this? What kind of power was it offering me?

  This was my isekai moment—a nobody like me, now with a system like all those other protagonists, a cheat code to grind from zero to hero.

  “Kill a goblin” had to drop loot—maybe a skill shard for my E-css mana, me cracking skulls, runes bzing. Harem tropes fshed through my head—girls swooning, begging to serve—until I gnced down at Lily’s curves.

  Tthere was a slight problem... The curve of my hips under the blue robe and the faint bounce of my chest reminded me that I… That I was no longer a guy, very much NOT packing the proper equipment for a harem.

  A harem sounded great, but what did that even mean now? The blonde hero asshole seemed to be a more proper harem protagonist, why couldn’t I have been transmigrated into that?

  A sigh escaped my lips as I tried to look on the bright side. This was a fantasy world—magic, runes, artifacts. Maybe I could find some dungeon loot to grow back my dick. Or get a shapeshifting skill, like in Log Horizon, and be whoever I wanted—male, female, both, neither—whatever got me the power, the respect, the control I’d never had back on Earth. Even if I couldn’t grow it back, a garden of yuri didn’t sound too bad.

  “Lily, you okay?” Ethan’s voice cut in again, sharper this time. He’d stopped walking, his manga-obsessed eyes squinting at me through his gsses. “You’re… grinning like a weirdo.”

  I blinked, realizing I’d been smirking into the dusk, probably looking like a lunatic. “Yeah, fine,” I said, waving him off. “Just… thinking about goblins.”

  “Goblins?” He tilted his head, confused. “You mean, like, dungeon goblins? I guess that makes sense, with all the dungeon talk at the ceremony… but aren’t we Support?”

  Right, Support. Freshman Support, just like him—the staff-and-book emblem pinned to my robe matched the one on his, a reminder of our shared starting line. But screw that—this system, whatever it was, had to be my cheat code, my way out of being just another background nobody.

  Maybe I’d start small, stuck in the backlines or whatever Support did, but with the system, I could climb. I could be the one leading raids, calling shots, hoarding loot, in the action.

  The possibilities… the sheer, intoxicating possibilities…

  We’d reached Dorm D, the mana-lit streetmps casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Ethan shuffled toward the stairs, gncing back at me. “Uh, see you ter, I guess?” he mumbled, already half gone.

  “Yeah, ter,” I said, barely looking at him. My mind was still spinning, the blue screen’s text burned into my vision: [Quest: “Kill a goblin.”]

  I had no idea how I’d even do it—if there were even goblins in Caletheris, or if I had dungeon access as a freshman—but I’d figure it out. I had to. This was my chance, my shot at being more than a basement loser, proving to my parents I can be something.

  I shoved through the dorm’s front door, my smirk widening. Whatever this system was, it was mine—and I was going to milk it for everything it was worth.

  I shoved the dorm’s front door open, still buzzing from the system’s promise, and took the stairs two at a time to D-214. I nudged the door open with my shoulder and stepped in, leaving it ajar behind me.

  Sara froze mid-strip, crop top tight, denim shorts halfway down her hips—bck panties stretched over her firm ass. She huffed, yanking them back up when she saw me. “Oi, ditch girl, close the damn door.”

  I pushed the door shut with my foot. She nodded, then started pulling the pants back down, kicking them off as she peeled the crop top over her head, tossing it aside.

  “Gotta shower—freshman bash is soon,” she said, half to herself, bending to strip off her socks. Her legs were long and toned, thighs flexing under the rune light, her navel piercing glinting as she straightened, purple-streaked hair spilling loose. “You’re going, right?”

  Her question hit me sideways, casual but loaded. I blinked, still processing—freshman bash? A party? I never was a party person but…

  “Uh, yeah, I guess,” I mumbled, voice barely audible. I could probably lean on Sara as a crutch if things go south.

  Sara smirked, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her waist. “Good. I think its on the other side of campus—really annoying we have to walk though.”

  She paused, then leaned in, voice dropping like she was letting me in on a secret. “Ran into these two other guys in the holy sword line—total show-offs, flexing like they’re S-tiers. But they said they could get me into a frat party after. Free drinks, no rune-ID checks. Might swing by if the bash gets me.”

  She shrugged, like it was just another night, then eyed me up and down. “You should shower too, ditch girl—you’re still a sweaty mess. Got anything to shower with?”

  I shook my head, feeling smaller than ever.

  Sara sighed, then straightened with a smirk. “Bow before me, ditch girl, for I, the Magnificent Sara Volkov, bestow my riches upon thee!” she decred, her voice dripping with sarcasm, a pyful glint in her eye. “Extra towels should be in my dresser, shower products probably in my suitcase, and I have some other pairs of slippers somewhere in one of the shoe boxes under my bed—take what you need.”

  She chuckled to herself as she shut the door behind her.

  I stood there, now alone in the room. Her stuff was everywhere—clothes spilling from the wardrobe, a chaotic pile of silk, leather, and studs. I drifted over, poking through it—tops, skirts, a belt—until I found a drawer in the dresser, half-open. I slid it out, revealing a stack of panties, all ce and satin, the first time I’d seen underwear as delicate and sexy up close before.

  My fingers hovered, then grabbed a bck pair, holding it up, soft and light. I leaned in and sniffed.

  I stood there, the bck ce panties slipping from my fingers back into the drawer, my breath catching as the blue screen fred again:

  [System: “Hidden Quest Complete: Sniff a girl’s panties. Reward: F-rank Lootbox.”]

  The ping jolted me out of my haze, my head snapping up. “What the hell?” I muttered, shoving the drawer closed with a twitchy hand. Another glowing cube pulsed into my mental inventory, right next to the one from ogling Sara. Two lootboxes, just for being a perv? What this the perv system. My lips twitched into an awkward smirk—a strange system indeed. But what was it giving me?

  I focused on the inventory and opened the two F-rank. Light fshing in the blue box, then fading fast. First: a pstic water bottle. Second: a single copper coin.

  My smirk dropped. “Seriously?” I snorted. Water and a coin? I guess F-rank loot was just trash. Whatever, it was a start. They stayed in the inventory, and I turned to get moving.

  Sara’s orders to shower echoed in my head, and I couldn’t argue. My fingers brushed my hair—greasy, tangled, a mess I’d ignored back on Earth but felt right to take care of now that I was a girl. I dug around some more, spotting the purple towel folded in her dresser, a few small travel-sized bottles shampoo, conditioner, and body wash tucked in her open suitcase, and opened a few of the shoe boxes until I found a pair of bck slippers. I grabbed them, piling them on my bare mattress, then hesitated. I guess it was time to ditch the yers.

  I walked to the mirror and peeled off the blue robe, letting it crumple onto the floor, followed the rest of my clothes from the hospital.

  Lily Harper stared back—naked, curvy, flushed pink, hazel eyes wide. My breath hitched.

  She—I—was curvier than I’d realized: hips fring wide, thighs thick but soft, a plush roll at my stomach that jiggled faintly when I moved. My breasts—rge but not unnatural—hung heavy, nipples dark and stiffening in the dorm’s chill.

  Heat prickled up my chest, spreading fast—across my colrbone, up my neck, blooming hot in my cheeks. My reflection flushed pink, and my hands twitched, itching to touch. I could feel it building, that strange, electric ache from earlier, stirring low in my belly.

  Anime fantasies of busty mages and warrior girls fshed through my head, but this was real. This was me. My fingers hovered over my stomach, brushing the soft curve there, and a shiver raced down my spine.

  I clenched my jaw, shoving the desire down hard. I snatched the purple towel, wrapping it tight around me—tucked under my armpits, barely skimming my ass—and hugged the shower products to my huge chest like a shield. I slipped into the bck slippers and slipped out the dorm door.

  I didn’t find dedicated showers, but there were bathrooms where I could faintly hear running water in the distance.

  I slipped into it, passing a row of urinals on my right. A guy hummed a low tune as he stood at one, broad back to me. I kept moving, focused on searching for the hiss of water.

  The shower area opened up—stone tiles, a line of stalls with thick curtains brushing the floor, each with a small shelf inside. Steam curled from one; someone was already in there. I snagged the st stall, dropped the shampoo and conditioner on the shelf, and let the purple towel fall, leaving me bare. Hot water hit hard as I stepped in, soaking my hair and streaming down my back.

  The water pounded down, hot and relentless, sluicing over my shoulders, tracing rivers down my chest, my stomach, my thighs. I tipped my head back, letting it soak my hair—long, heavy strands sticking to my neck, a curtain of wet brown I wasn’t used to. The steam thickened, curling around me like a fog. Just me now, alone in this stall, the curtain swaying faintly against the tiles.

  I exhaled, slow and shaky, the heat seeping into my skin. My hands hung limp at my sides, dripping, but they itched—twitched—like they’d been itching since the hospital. Since that first glimpse of Lily’s body under the sheets, soft and curved and mine now. Since Sara—fuck, Sara—pranced around half-naked twice, all lean muscle and attitude, her ass swaying, that piercing glinting like a taunt. And then the mirror just now, showing me this—this body I didn’t ask for but couldn’t stop staring at.

  My breath hitched. I could still see it: my reflection—Lily’s reflection—hips wide, thighs plush, breasts heavy and bouncing free. That flush creeping up my chest, those dark nipples tightening in the chill. I’d shoved it down then, grabbed the towel, bolted here. But now? Now there was no Nurse Kaelin to interrupt, no Sara to smirk and snap me out of it. Just me, the water, and this… need cwing up my spine.

  Back on Earth, in Mom’s basement, I’d have had Tentacle Lust V queued up by now—a different girl writhing under dark mana, her moans echoing through my shitty headphones. I’d have been three minutes in, hand down my sweats, chasing that quick, dirty release. Alone. Always alone. Never with another girl.

  But this wasn’t a screen. This was real, a girl literally inches from my fingertips who wouldn’t report me for touching.

  My hands moved before I could stop them, sliding up my stomach—soft, a little plush, trembling under my touch. I sucked in a breath, the water streaming over my knuckles as I brushed higher, hesitating just under my breasts. They were heavier than I’d expected, full and warm, and when my thumbs grazed the undersides, a jolt shot through me—sharp, electric, straight down between my legs. “Oh shit,” I whispered, voice lost in the hiss of the shower.

  I cupped them, tentative at first, feeling their weight, the way they spilled over my palms. My thumbs brushed higher, circling those stiff peaks—dark, sensitive, hardening more under the heat. A whimper slipped out, soft and high, and my eyes widened. That was me. That sound—girly, needy—was mine.

  And fuck was hot.

  I did it again, rolling my nipples between my fingers, pinching just enough to make my knees buckle. The ache bloomed, wet and pulsing, nothing like the blunt, focused rush I’d known in my st life. This was deeper, messier, spreading everywhere.

  My mind spun, and there she was—Sara. That crop top peeling off, her abs flexing as she bent, that tight bck underwear hugging her ass like a second skin. I could see it: her turning, smirking that jagged-edge smirk—“What, ditch girl, still drooling?”—and stepping closer, hips cocked, purple-streaked hair dripping wet like mine was now. Her piercing caught the rune-light, her voice low and teasing—“You wanna touch, don’t you?”—as she slid those panties down, slow, deliberate, baring everything.

  I groaned, louder this time. My right hand slipped lower, trailing down my stomach, fingers shaking as they brushed the soft curves between my thighs. I froze, heart hammering. This was it—Lily’s body, not mine. But the heat there was unbearable, slick even under the water, and I couldn’t stop. I pressed a finger against myself, just the edge, and gasped—too much, too new, too good.

  Sara’s voice echoed in my head—“Shower. Now. I’m not dragging a slob.”—and I pictured her here, naked, water streaming down her back, that vine tattoo curling under her hips as she turned to me, grinning, daring me to join her. Her hands were on me, pushing me against the tiles, her lips brushing my ear—“Let’s see what you’ve got, ditch girl.” My finger slipped deeper, exploring that wet heat, and I moaned again, louder, a needy little cry that made my own ears burn. I sounded like a girl in one of my hentais—helpless, desperate, and sexy as hell.

  Sara started to strip slowly, panties dropping, and bent over with that cocky grin, her ass swaying like she knew I was watching. “Come on, ditch girl,” I imagined her purring, “show me what you can do.”

  My moans grew, bouncing off the walls—high, breathy, embarrassingly hot. I did my best to muffle myself with my other hand. I was turning myself on, this voice, this body, this fantasy of Sara.

  In my mind, I was Elliot again, sprawled back on a bed, my dick hard and heavy, as Sara crawled up to me. My huge imaginary cock loomed over her, casting a huge shadow. Her lips parted to take me in, her tongue teasing the tip with that infuriating smirk.

  But the sensation didn’t match. My fingers rubbed faster, circling that pulsing, aching spot, but it wasn’t right—it wasn’t enough. There was no weight, no length, nothing to grip, nothing to thrust.

  My clit begged for something more, something to fill the void, but my mind screamed for the cock I used to have, the one Sara was sucking in my head, her hands pulling me deeper, her throat tightening around me. “Fuck,” I gasped, frustration spiking, my hips jerking uselessly against my hand. The disconnect cwed at me, a raw, gnawing ache that left me teetering on the edge but unable to fall.

  My eyes darted to the system’s inventory, those stupid lootboxes glowing in my mind’s eye. That trash-tier water bottle popped into my head, rod-like, a mockery of my desperation. I hesitated, breath ragged, my fingers still slick and trembling.

  Could I…? No, fuck no—Elliot’s voice roared in the back of my skull, that sliver of male pride rearing up. Stick something in there? That was too far, too alien, too… final. But the thought wouldn’t leave—Sara’s smirk, her daring me.

  I focused, shaky, and summoned it. The bottle appeared in my hand, cold pstic against my overheated skin. I stared at it, junk from an F-rank lootbox, but its shape taunted me, a cruel echo of what I’d lost. My heart pounded. I wasn’t gonna stick it in. No way. I was still Elliot, damn it—still a guy in my head, even if this body begged otherwise. Plus, it was too big, too ridiculous, too… wrong. But… maybe…

  I pressed it against myself, just the ft side, cold and firm against that pulsing heat. “Oh fuck,” I gasped, the contrast jolting me, my legs trembling. I slid it lower, slow, teasing along the edges—not inside—but close enough to make my head spin.

  The fantasy snapped back, sharper now—Sara on her knees, her mouth on me, her hands gripping my base, pulling me in and out, her lips slick and eager. I cmped the bottle between my thighs, tight, the pstic slipping against my skin, and pulled it back and forth, mimicking the rhythm of her hands, her mouth, her throat.

  “Yes,” I moaned, the word spilling out, high and desperate, as the friction blurred with the fantasy, my clit throbbing against the pressure, my mind filling in the weight, the length, the thrust.

  Sara’s image flickered as she sprawled onto the bed, spreading her pussy with those coffin-nailed fingers, her voice a husky growl—“Harder, Elliot, come on, give it to me.” My hips rocked faster, the bottle sliding slickly between my thighs, and the ache coiled tight, unbearable, as I fucked Sara in my mind.

  My moans spiked again, echoing off the tiles, shameless and hot, and I didn’t care—didn’t care how I sounded, how this body betrayed me, because in my head, I was still me, still the man in control, still fucking her mouth senseless.

  “Sara,” I whimpered, the name tearing out of me, raw and helpless, and that did it. The tension snapped, shattering through me, a white-hot wave that left me gasping, shaking, clinging to the edge of the sink as the fantasy dissolved into steam and heat.

  Ping. A blue screen fred:

  [System: “Hidden Quest Complete: Masturbate. Reward: E-rank Lootbox.”]

  My eyes widened, a shaky ugh bubbling up. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, voice hoarse. Another cube pulsed into my inventory, brighter than the F-ranks, and I grinned despite the guilt creeping in. This system was fucked up—rewarding me for being a perv in a girl’s body—but I wasn’t compining.

  I leaned there, panting, the cool tiles grounding me as the steam swirled. Sara’s pyful phantom smirk lingered. I was a mess, a horny, confused mess, and this body—this life—was only getting started.

  nanchengnv

  [colpse]Spoiler

  [colpse]