(Slow, Sensual – Fem!Ryuji, Fem!Yusuke, Fem!Morgana)
The transformation began without warning.
One morning, Ryuji woke with her voice an octave higher, her limbs feeling wrong—but not painful. Just… soft. New. Her reflection in the mirror was the final confirmation. Blond hair tied messily, fierce brown eyes, but her jaw was slimmer, her figure unmistakably feminine—tight, athletic, curved in places she hadn't had before.
Yusuke, similarly, emerged from an afternoon nap surrounded by scattered canvases and spilled tea, only to feel the brush of longer hair against her neck and the unfamiliar fullness beneath her kimono top. Her voice, always ethereal, now floated in lilting cadence, graceful and strange. It was art, but she was the canvas this time.
And Morgana—already not quite human—woke with limbs that felt real. Human. Soft hands where paws once were. A sleek, delicate body curled on Ren's bed, breathing shallowly. Her new form was petite, feline in grace, but unmistakably female, with ears still peeking from dark hair and golden eyes wide with wonder.
None of them told Ren at first.
Not because they feared his reaction—some part of them wanted him to see. To notice. But something had awakened in each of them beyond flesh: a heat, a curiosity, a soft hunger curling just beneath the surface.
Ryuji
She sat on the rooftop one night, hoodie zipped high over her new body, watching the moonlight roll over her thighs.
It was driving her mad.
Every brush of wind against her chest, the way her thighs pressed together when she crossed them—it was electric. Her hands kept drifting down, exploring, testing, wanting to understand what she was now. And her thoughts kept circling back to Ren.
How gentle he was. How safe she felt around him.
And how her eyes had started following him in ways they never had before.
Yusuke
The bathhouse steamed with jasmine that night. Yusuke sat with her hair pinned up, her naked back long and elegant under the lantern light.
She'd started painting again, but every image she conjured was Ren—his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at her before all this. She didn't understand it.
But her body did.
She slipped into the water, letting it run between her thighs, her breath catching with the heat rising inside her. Her hand dipped beneath the surface, tentatively, and for a moment, she let herself imagine his fingers instead of her own.
A soft gasp echoed off the tiles.
Morgana
She sat on the edge of Ren's bed, watching him sleep.
She should have been asleep herself. But something in her body buzzed constantly now. A warmth in her stomach. A tenderness in her chest when she saw him smile in his dreams.
Her fingers hovered over his hair, brushing it back gently.
"I… want you to see me," she whispered.
Not as a cat. Not as a mascot. But as a girl. As someone who could be touched, kissed, loved.
She leaned down, her lips inches from his.
Then stopped.
Not yet.
The Pull
None of them spoke to each other about it. But each could feel it—the slow shift in the air. The stolen glances. The way Ren's touch lingered a little longer. How his scent filled their thoughts at night.
They were changing.
And not just their bodies.
Their dreams had started bleeding together—images of satin sheets, soft sighs, tangled limbs, and Ren's breath on their skin. An unseen deity had rewritten their forms, but desire was writing something deeper: the beginning of devotion.
Not forced. Not corrupted.
But yearning.