Capture Target

Say, do you want to make your life a whole lot more fun?

It’ll be great, I promise!

Ugh, fine, if you need an explanation… it’s a bit long, but -- waitwaitwait!  It involves a guy turning into this and all sorts of hot lewd adventures!

Hah!  I knew you were my kind of person.  Wait no it’s a compliment, come back!  I’ll get started now, really!

So.  It started shortly after I died.  See, when I woke up -- huh?  How did I die?  That really doesn’t matter here, that -- ugh.  FINE.  You get your ‘lore’ before your ‘porn’.  Weirdo.

So it started shortly before I died.  I was, oh, late twenties, early thirties young adult man.  I had a decent enough life.  I worked as a software engineer, doing really weird stuff with code, and generally was really really boring unless you looked at my search history.

So, you know.  Standard coder.

A thunderstorm was currently going on, and I was busy playing my favorite eroge, a recently-translated Alchemical Corruption 12, and… what?  You haven’t heard of it?!  It’s a work of art!  More lines of dialogue than most triple-A games, several random events that can alter an entire playthrough, all based around waifu-obtainment and the gradual corruption and slutification of said waifus!  No NTR despite the corruption, mostly because there were practically no other males in the game, which made it a real odd-duck of an eroge.  Not that I was arguing, of course.  On top of that, the lore was surprisingly comprehensive, the systems for alchemical concoctions where a fascinating puzzle, the various deities were well thought out, and --

-- ah.  Right.  The porn!  Getting back to it.  Sorry.

…It’s a fun game.

Anyway.  I was starting up a new playthrough, hoping to obtain a secret, probably impossible ending that I theorycrafted over the last week.  I chose my new game settings, and that’s about when I died.

…Not due to a lightning strike.

I realized later that my headphones meant I didn’t hear the tree that was falling through the roof and right onto my head.

And then the water from the rain got zapped by the space heater I had on nearby…

…It wasn’t a fun experience.  So.  Can I get to the porn now?

…I’m ignoring that comment about my obviously non-existent digressions, thank you very much

So. My first impression was that I was feeling oddly awake after having my head bashed in.  I felt like I had the blankets bunched up on my chest area for some reason, but I felt incredibly comfortable.

…Hey, I was oddly awake, not perfectly awake.  The thought that I had died didn’t come to me until later, nor did the thought that I shouldn’t be in a comfy bed waking up after dying.  That came later -- look, you can complain about my lack of logic here after you die, okay?!  Moving!  On!

So.  I opened my eyes, and then I saw breasts.

Then I realized that they were not, in fact, breasts.

No, these were too big to be called breasts.

These were tits.

Massive mammaries.

Humongous honkers.

Great tracts of land.

Big, bountiful, bouncing boobies.

Attached to my chest!  And not to some other persons chest!

Hm?  Oh, goodness, no, they weren’t this big.  This came later.  But at the time, I was utterly shocked by the size of them.  I quickly moved to stand up -- thankfully, my new body had plenty of decent muscle memory to work with -- and I realized that when looking down, I couldn’t even see my feet.

It was only then that I grabbed them, almost harshly, to confirm that they were real.  This, immediately, resulted in a very erotic noise rising up from my throat as I felt a budding heat between my legs, making me squirm slightly.

Hands were then quickly removed from my chest, and I… haaaa… you really want the full truth here?  Fine.  It’s embarrassing, but my first thought was… well…

‘Aren’t bigger tits supposed to be less sensitive?!’

I know!  I know.  Here I was in what I was about to discover to be a smoking hot bod, and my first thought was on how my tit nerves weren’t accurate.  I swear.  I should have just started jilling off, but no.  I had to think about the logic of the situation.

Look, just… moving on.

I ignored the surprising amount of heat that my rough attempt at self-groping induced, and took a closer look at my body in a full-body mirror set up near a vanity.  And I was hot.  I was a bit short for a young woman -- just under five feet, maybe four ten at the shortest -- with breasts the size of my head and an ass to match.  Hips wide enough to give me just a bit of a thigh gap… which I realized due to the fact that my unconscious squirming wasn’t getting any relief.  My hair was a vivid blond, slightly wavy, and it went down to around my armpits.  My eyes were a vivid blue, and every portion of my skin was perfectly smooth.

I was wearing a lovely little black lace negligee.  I raised a hand as if to confirm that it was really me…

…and I ended up punching the bottom of my right tit in the process.  I had to bite down a swear at the sudden sensation.  Once you get to a certain size, breasts are in the way, which is something I was going to get very well acquainted with.

It’s around then that my mind started actually working again.

I’ve always been good in a crisis, and thankfully, that was a trait I kept.  I did a quick stock of my mental state, and discovered some memories that weren’t my own.  Nothing too clear, more… vague impressions.  Empty slots in my mind where ‘mother’ and ‘father’ should be; I knew I loved them dearly (though mom was a bit of a ditz at times), but it was hard to place actual experiences with them.  Curious.

I quickly glanced at my bedside table, opening up its drawer and taking out a small card I somehow knew was in there.  It was about the size of a drivers license, made of something closer to glass than plastic.  I saw a picture of my new face on the upper right corner, and a name.  ‘Elizabeth Elsie Livia Ambrosia’.

…I was one of the first ‘capture targets’ of ‘Alchemical Corruption 12’.

Now.  If I was who I was at the time of that realization, I would claim that my face went white.  That the burgeoning arousal in my new slit was quenched in worry.  That the thought of being in this world that seems set up to corrupt women and make them eager, lewd sluts made me so worried that any thought of carnal pleasure simply fled my mind.

But I’m who I am now.  So I can be a bit more honest, and admit that my arousal spiked as my heart started pumping, fantasies running through my mind.

Because although I didn’t admit it to myself at the time?

I’m a massive slut, and I knew I would love every moment in this new life of mine~