I woke up—
but this time, it wasn't cold. It was warm.
Really warm. And soft.
Wait…
This… this is a bed?!
An actual bed?!
Oh my god, it felt like I hadn't touched one in years!
I wanted to roll around and bury myself in the sheets like a happy dog, but—
Wait.
I heard something.
A hum.
A weirdly sweet little tune, drifting closer to the door.
Instinct kicked in.
Play dead.
I flopped back and closed my eyes, letting my body go limp like a possum with trust issues.
Creak.
The door opened.
Through barely-cracked eyelids, I saw her.
Pink hair. Short. Neatly kept.
Too neat. Like she somehow didn't belong in this dusty room.
She looked like someone who smelled like peaches and expensive lotion.
She tiptoed in and sat beside the bed, humming again, and placed a damp cloth gently on my forehead.
Okay. Yep. Confirmed:
Nurse mode activated.
Definitely the one who's been taking care of me.
And then—
Then she squished her cheeks right up against mine like I was some kind of plush toy in a claw machine.
"Ughhh~ Usumi always brings home the cutest strays," she squealed, voice full of pure sugar.
"You're so cute I could just eat you up~!"
WHAT?!
I stayed frozen under the covers, pretending to be unconscious while also having a full internal panic attack.
She pulled away, muttering to herself as if I wasn't even there.
"No, no, behave… she's still out for now, so I'll just… hmmm…"
She tapped her lip.
"Karai said she peed herself, right? So… I should probably change her undies at least…"
My soul left my body.
She got up with sudden energy like she just remembered she was in a musical.
She climbed up onto the bed with zero shame.
"It's okay, we're both girls~" she hummed cheerfully.
Then, in a dreamy voice:
"Wowww… your thighs are so squishy and warm…"
She gave them a little squeeze, like I was a memory foam pillow at a department store.
"Okay, time to get these off~"
"I—WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" I screamed, lurching upward and yanking the covers over my face like a panicked turtle.
"Please don't touch me!!"
She blinked, eyes wide, cheeks puffed out like a guilty squirrel.
"Oh—ah! Sorry!" she squeaked, waving her hands like she'd broken a vase.
"I just—I thought you were still sleeping, and I didn't want to leave you in those yucky undies you peed in. I swear I wasn't being weird!"
"…It wasn't pee," I grumbled, feeling like a five-year-old who just lost a fight with a juice box.
It was, in fact, piss.
Like, 100% undeniably.
There was no gray area here. No "maybe it was sweat" excuse.
I had marinated in my own failure. And I said that lie with my whole chest.
Her big eyes sparkled, innocently.
"Ohhh. Gotcha~"
She reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a pair of striped blue and white panties like she was unveiling a prize on a game show.
"Here! They're Juna's, but shhh—don't tell her, okay? Lol."
She winked
Juna?
"Put them on quick and leave the old ones in there! Then come downstairs for breakfast, 'kay?" pointed at a basket in the corner.
She twirled once before skipping out the door, humming the same cheerful tune.
I just sat there under the covers, blinking.
She was totally insane.…But also kind of glowing? Beautiful, even?
Like if sunshine had a brain but forgot to use it.
I sighed, letting my head fall back into the pillow.
What the hell kind of place was this?
I stared at the door she disappeared through like it might explain something.
It didn't.
Instead, I looked down at what she left me holding—
A pair of blue and white striped panties.
Great.
I hesitated. Staring. Thinking. Regretting everything.
She was right, though…
How had I even slept in piss-stained spats?
Like, genuinely—what was wrong with me?
With a sigh full of emotional damage, I swung my legs over the bed and planted my feet on the cold floor. The chill seeped through the thin soles of my shoes, grounding me in the harsh reality.
I peeled off the damp fabric, the smell of stale sweat and something sour clinging stubbornly to the spats.
Then came the stripes.
Oh god, the stripes.
I pulled them on slowly, almost reverently, as if they might snap or burst into flames. The fabric was soft against my skin, a gentle caress that contrasted sharply with the anxiety curling in my gut.
Cute. Too cute. Way too cute.
And clearly not made for me. And definitely not made for me.
I looked down.
The pattern caught the light—thin blur stripes stretching over soft white fabric, delicate and fragile like porcelain.
Yep.
The fit was… technically successful, if we're being generous.
But the front? There was definitely a little… bulge.
Not huge, but enough that if someone stared too long, they'd start asking weird questions.
A faint warmth spread across my cheeks, my fingers twitching nervously as I adjusted the waistband, trying to ignore the way the fabric stretched a little tighter than it should.
"Lucky I'm not packing anything serious enough to fill this out," I muttered with tragic acceptance, the words hanging heavy in the air like a quiet surrender.
"Lucky I'm not packing anything serious enough to fill this out," I muttered with tragic acceptance, the words hanging heavy in the air like a quiet surrender.
The panties clung on for dear life, biting into my skin like a hand clenched down hard on a stress ball, desperately trying not to let go.
Same, little guy. Same.
I tossed the ruined spats into the basket like she told me and took a deep breath.
Time to face… whatever this place actually was.
Breakfast better be amazing.
After everything I'd just been through—
The piss, the panties, the emotional damage—
I deserved something life-changing.
A warm meal, a soft place to sit, maybe silence.
Just as I took a step toward the door—
SLAM!
The door burst open like a SWAT team raid, and I jumped so hard I nearly ripped the waistband off the striped panties.
"Oh! Right!" she chirped, grinning like she just remembered her lines in a school play.
"My name's Sakura, by the way~!"
She gave a little wink and finger wave, then disappeared again in a swirl of pink hair and sunshine.
I stood there in Juna's stolen panties, still reeking of shame and old regret, blinking at the empty doorway.
She didn't even notice the bulge in the front, by the way.
I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a good thing or not.
On one hand—thank god.
On the other—seriously? Nothing? Not even a confused glance?
Was I really that unthreatening?
Maybe the stripes distracted her. Maybe she just thought I was cursed with weird anatomy.
Maybe she just didn't care.
…But maybe—
If she knew I was male, would she treat me the same?
Would she still smile like that?
Would she still call me cute?
Would she still wipe my forehead and hum like we were already friends?
The thought sat weird in my chest.
Like I wasn't sure if I wanted the answer or not.
I shook it off.
Didn't matter, I was already emotionally exhausted.
Sakura.
Of course her name was Sakura.
She looked like someone who would absolutely be named Sakura.
Like she belonged in a flower field or a magical girl anime.
Not wiping piss off strangers and calling their thighs "squishy."
I sighed and ran a hand down my face.
What kind of angel/idiot hybrid did that Usumi guy leave me with?
I still had breakfast to face…
I sighed, shrugged it off, and opened the door—
Now wearing a skirt and panties instead of my beloved spats, which I missed dearly.
R.I.P, you loyal soggy bastards.
As the door creaked open fully, I finally saw what lay beyond it.
A dimly lit hallway.
The kind you'd see in western media anytime someone says the words "trap house."
Food wrappers were scattered across the floor like someone had hosted a junk food rave and forgot to clean up afterward.
If this was supposed to be a safehouse, it had the aesthetic of a depressed anime bachelor pad.
I took one last deep breath, then stepped into the hallway.
Three more doors.
Two on the left:
One said "Sakura" (of course), and the other said "Usumi."
Huh.
Still hadn't seen that guy.
At least, I didn't think I had.
But the name seem familiar as if I knew it from way before she mentioned it.
And then one door to my right—
"Juno/Juna."
Both names written in messy handwriting, as if they fought over who got the top bunk with a Sharpie. Sharing a room?
With names like that, they were definitely siblings. Or possibly two gremlins fused into one chaos entity. Hard to say yet.
Either way, this hallway already told me way more than I wanted to know.
One wrong move in the wrong direction, I'd trip and flash the entire household.
All my shame—on full display.
The path ahead led straight to the stairs, the scent of something vaguely edible wafting up from below.
I started down one step at a time, my ears tuned in, still cautiously optimistic about what kind of breakfast this weird household could "whip up."
Would it be eggs? Toast? A flaming pile of mystery cans?
Then—
SLAM.
A door burst open behind me like a rocket launch, and a blur of blonde hair bolted past.
"Hahaha! You're such a slowpoke, Juna! I'm goanna get there first and eat it all!" the boy shouted, practically parkouring down the steps.
Messy blond hair falling in wild strands over his forehead, untamed and stubborn like he didn't care if it ever got fixed.
His clothes were rumpled, sleeves rolled up unevenly, and his shoes scuffed from running too fast and too reckless.
He grinned wildly as he sprinted down the steps, eyes bright with reckless energy and a trace of mischief.
I jumped back so fast I almost lost my footing.
Another voice chased after him, loud and annoyed:
"No! You have to save some for the rest of us, idiot!"
She sprinted past next—
Clean, yellow hair whipped behind her as her eyes locked onto her prey.
Her arm had a screen embedded beneath the skin—like a smartwatch, but deeper, built right into her flesh. It blinked softly with streams of data I couldn't even begin to read.
Lines ran across her skin like seams on a finely crafted toy—panels that could open at any moment to reveal the complex machinery hidden beneath.
Her dress was elegant, flowing with delicate folds that shimmered faintly under the dim light—like something from a forgotten era, both beautiful and out of place here.
Mid-sprint, she glanced sideways and locked eyes with me.
For half a second, her expression froze.
"Oh—uh—hello, I'm Pon," I offered weakly.
But she didn't stop. barely slowed. She just snapped, "Hmph," and turned her head away instantly, like I was the one who'd eaten the entire fridge before the other kid could get to it.
Then—just like that—she was gone, chasing him down the steps like breakfast was a matter of life and death.
As she ran, I caught a glimpse beneath the hem of her dress—a pair of pink panties, adorned with a small, innocent-looking bow right in the square of the fabric. It was almost childlike, a strange contrast to the deadly precision in her movements.
These panty's where defiantly hers I stood there blinking, caught between embarrassment and confusion.
Suddenly, a sharp hunger gnawed at me—my stomach growled, probably because the siblings had just been fighting over it.
✦ ✦ ✦
The smell of food—salty, hot, maybe a little burnt—hit me first. Then came the low buzz of voices. Laughter. A chair creaking. The table came into view before I even reached the bottom step.
There they were.
Already seated like this was all normal. Like they hadn't dragged my half-dead body in here last night.
Sakura spotted me first.
"You finally made it!" she beamed, like she'd been waiting hours instead of minutes. "Come on, sit! Sit!"
She pulled out a chair for me before I could say a word.
I hesitated—but my legs moved on their own. I plopped into the seat with a soft pomf, wincing at the sound. It was probably the fabric of the too-tight panties she gave me—striped, snug, and humiliating. The way they clung to me… yeah. That sound was all me.
Sakura gently pushed the chair in behind me like I was a kid at daycare.
Then she stood tall like a game show host and began her introductions.
"Okay! Starting left to right. That one's Juno."
The guy across from me gave a sharp-toothed grin and a playful wave. "Yo."
He looked like trouble wrapped in neon. Something about his smile said, Don't trust me, but you'll have fun if you do.
Sakura continued. "Next to him, the quiet one—that's Juna."
Juna didn't respond.
Didn't even look up from her tea.
She sat perfectly still, like some porcelain noble in a cheap diner. Perfect posture. Perfect hair. Cold as the moon.
I blinked, wondering if she even heard Sakura.
"And this guy—" Sakura pointed to the one seated nearest the corner "—that's Usumi."
The man nodded once, arms crossed, cigarette tucked behind one ear. His build was broad—thick neck, thick arms, the kind of guy who looked like he could throw a car if he had to.
He met my eyes just long enough to say, "Good to see you on your feet."
His voice was deep but calm. I nodded, trying not to let my awkwardness show.
"And then…" Sakura spun halfway around, tilting her head. "Where's Kaori—?"
Before she could finish, the front door swung open hard.
Korai—Ammo Tits, as I called her—strolled in like a wrecking ball with goggles.
"Hey, piss baby," she barked, spotting me instantly. "You're awake. Finally."
She made her way over like she owned the whole damn building, then dropped into the chair beside me with a whump and a wide grin.
"That's Kaori," Sakura said, smiling like this wasn't the worst possible timeline.
I blinked. "Kaori?"
Ammo Tits had a real name?
Before I could process that, Korai leaned in—grinning, eyes gleaming—like a lion mid-pounce sizing up a baby deer that didn't know it was already caught.
Her massive breasts hovered close to me, making it impossible to ignore.
"You're actually kinda cute when you're not covered in piss and android squirt," she said, smirking. "Might just bend you over right here in front of all these lovely people."
Please don't.
She smirked, then leaned in a little closer, voice dropping low and rough.
"So, piss baby—got a name, huh? You goanna tell us, or what?"
I stiffened. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Then, finally—calm, quiet, like it cost her nothing—Juna spoke.
"…Pon."
Everyone looked at her.
I did too.
She still hadn't looked up.
Still hadn't acknowledged anyone.
Her voice was calm, quiet you'd think she was speaking to her teacup instead of the table.
But she said it. My name.
The one I haven't told anyone else yet.
So she had heard me earlier.
A chill ran down my back. I didn't know whether to be comforted or terrified.
Sakura blinked, then clapped her hands.
"Perfect! So—everyone, this is Pon."
And just like that, I was real to them.
I wasn't ready for it.
"Pon, huh?" Juno grinned. "Kinda short. Like you."
I glanced at him. He wiggled his eyebrows like that was a compliment.
Korai chuckled beside me. "Short, but sharp. Sounds like someone who bites ankles for a living, ha-ha."
My face got hotter.
Sakura leaned on the back of my chair. "No, it suits her. Simple, soft!"
Then
"Thief ," Juna added, barely audible.
She still hadn't raised her head. But she sipped her tea again like she'd just made a factual observation about the weather.
I didn't steal anything—Sakura gave me these panties; I didn't even want them.
But Juna's voice had that sharp, smooth edge… like she wasn't talking about legality. Like she was talking about audacity.
Like I didn't deserve to be wearing what I was.
Especially not her panties.
I didn't look at her. I couldn't. My thighs pressed together on instinct.
She knew. She definitely knew.
And somehow, that was worse than if she'd screamed it across the room.
✦✦✦
I was in my room—well, not my room, just the one I woke up in. Apparently, it used to be Korai's before she moved out or got bored or something. At least that's what she told me. Though the way she said it was more like—
"Mmm, that little closet? Yeah, I used to sleep there before I got my own place. Lots of memories in that bed, heh—feel free to add some of your own~"
Yeah. Disgusting.
I didn't even want to sit on it after that.
Korai was a total pervert… and stupidly beautiful. The worst kind.
I stared at the walls like they owed me answers.
No blood spatters. No knives hidden under the mattress. No secret hit list taped to the underside of the bed.
Just old band posters, a cracked mirror, and that faint scent of oil and leather that clung to everything around here.
Honestly, it didn't match her at all. I'd expected torture devices or at least a punching dummy with a face drawn on it.
Still, it was weird sleeping in a bed that belonged to someone who could probably break me in half with her abs.
I glanced down at my stomach.
No definition. Just soft skin and nerves I still didn't trust.
I smiled. Then actually laughed under my breath.
I I used to be scared of her belly—like, literally her stomach.
Like her abs could reach out and body-slam me on sight.
Maybe I'm still a little scared.
But… not as much as before.
That's when Sakura burst in—cheery, loud, and holding something over her head like she was presenting a royal heir.
"Ponie! I finished washing your spats!"
My spats.
The ones I… yeah. Those.
I stared at them in her hands, mortified all over again.
She didn't seem to care. Or even remember.
"They were a little yellow at first," she said brightly. "But don't worry, I soaked them in lemon rinse and scrubbed the bottom part super well! Now they're good as new!"
She beamed.
She remembered everything.
I was dying inside.
Then she held them out like a fresh towel and added, still smiling:
"You can take off those panties that ride up your area now. These'll feel way better, Ponny."
But she smiled like what she said didn't really bother her at all. Like she hadn't just casually told me to strip in the most embarrassing way possible.
I took them frantically, like they were a missing kitten I'd just found after three sleepless nights—hunched over, clutching them like something fragile and holy.
"T-Thanks," I muttered, voice cracking.
"You're welcome!" she chirped. "Oh! And I fluffed the waistband so it won't dig into your tummy when you bend over. y'know. Like when you're—"
"OkaybyeI'mgonnachange!"
I slammed the door before she could finish that sentence.
The spats sat in my hands. Clean. Warm. Soft.
But honestly, they were way better than these panties—ones my ass had practically seeped through, like some squeezed tight in a stress ball, with the sides bulging and seeping out.
As I changed, I heard a deep, rugged voice through the door.
"Alright, Sakura, we're going to work now. Got it?"
"Alright, Usumi. Bye!"
"You stay here with Pon and—"
I barley got the spats over my butt when I swung the door wide open before whoever was talking could finish.
Sakura was still standing there, as if trying to listen in while I changed.
"Hey, Ponny!" she chirped brightly.
I hadn't really talked to Usumi yet—even though he saved me—but if there was something they did to feed us, I wanted to help.
"Can… can I come work with you?" I asked, hopeful.
Juno nodded enthusiastically.
Juna just shook her head—silent but clear.
Usumi's voice was still rough, but then a really handsome smile shot my way.
"I'm sorry, Pon. This is something I don't want you doing."
His smile actually shocked me—the girl parts of me reacted in a way I wasn't expecting.
"Please," I begged, voice trembling. "I want to be useful."
Usmi smile softened, but his eyes hardened like steel, voice came out rough, dry—like gravel scraping over metal—but quiet, almost like he didn't want Sakura catching every word.
"Pon... you don't get it. This world? It's twisted. Corrupted. Not just by violence... but by things darker than you can imagine."
He glanced toward the door, lowering his voice.
"I don't know how much you've seen or what you think you know. But you're not ready for that yet."
His eyes locked on mine, sharp and guarded.
"My job... is to keep you safe. To keep you from getting pulled into the mess that'll swallow you whole if you're not careful."
He ran a hand through his hair, voice almost a whisper now.
"You want to help? Fine. But your place... is here. With us. Where it's still clean."
I swallowed hard, heart pounding.
His words hit me harder than I expected.
Safe… clean.
I'd never thought of this place that way before.
Like a fragile bubble in a storm.
Juna looked at me out of the corner of her eye and smiled.
Not kindly.
More like someone who'd just watched an untrained dog sit when told. It wasn't cruel—just… satisfied.
"No," I said firmly, shaking my head. "I don't want to just sit here. I want to do something. Be part of this—whatever it is. I'm not some sheltered kid."
His gaze didn't waver, but I saw something flicker beneath that rough exterior.
"You don't know what you're asking for, Pon. This isn't a game."
I clenched my fists, anger bubbling up.
"Maybe. But if I don't try, I'll never know who I am. Or what I can be."
The silence stretched.
Sakura shifted behind me still outside the door, quiet but waiting.
"No. You don't go." Usumi's voice cut sharp, final.
And that was it.
No argument. No room to push.
He turned and walked off like the decision hadn't even cost him a second thought.
Juno followed with a lazy stretch.
Juna moved without a sound.
And Korai—
She'd been so unusually silent, I hadn't even noticed she was there until she moved.
No perverted remark. No heavy footsteps. Just... there.
As she passed, she didn't speak. Didn't slow down.
But then—
Just before she turned the corner—
A flick of her hand.
Low. Barely noticeable.
But it was a call. A signal.
To me.
Not with words. But I felt it.
Loud and clear.
✦ ✦ ✦
Me and Sakura sat in my room in silence.
She absentmindedly shuffled a deck of game cards, the bent corners flicking in her fingers.
"Hey Pon… want to play a board game?" she asked, casual. Too casual.
I didn't answer right away.
"Sakura," I said quietly but firm, "I'm going."
Her hand froze mid-shuffle.
She didn't turn to me. Just stared at the cards.
"Pon, didn't you hear what Usumi said? You can't just—"
But I was already moving.
Korai's signal had been silent, but clear as day.
I crossed to the window.
Unlocked. Waiting.
I slid it open.
"Fine!" Sakura huffed behind me. "But you have to let me squeeze your soft belly when you get back!"
She said it like she'd been thinking about asking all day.
I hesitated—just for a second.
But outside, below the window, Korai, Juno, and Juna were already heading into the night.
Their silhouettes blurred by neon mist.
I climbed out, heart pounding.
And totally forgot what Sakura had just said.
It vanished, like a dream slipping out from under me the second my feet hit the ground.
I followed quietly, careful not to make a sound.
But now that I was really looking… this place didn't look anything like it did when I woke up.
Back there—in that back alley—I'd seen towers stabbing the sky like needles, glass glinting under rainbow neon. Billboards moved. Holograms blinked like gods with no patience. It had felt loud even when everything was silent. Like the whole city was breathing in electricity.
But here?
Here it was dry.
Cracked.
The concrete had peeled like old paint, sand piling up in the corners of broken steps and rusted pipes. The air didn't buzz—it creaked, like wood under boots. The sky still had that faint cybernetic glow in the distance, but it looked far now. Distant. Like a memory I wasn't sure I'd had.
There were no glowing signs here. No drones. Just heat and silence and the sound of someone spitting phlegm behind a pillar.
The building behind us looked abandoned—bricks scorched, metal warped. Like someone had tried to cover up what it used to be.
Maybe a factory. Maybe a house. Maybe both.
They pushed open a tunnel hatch, like it had always been theirs. Some old station entrance or drainage gate, bent open just wide enough to slip through.
It reminded me of something a kid would draw in school if they thought "hideout" meant "somewhere you'll die."
They went inside.
Closed it behind them.
I crept closer, careful not to kick the scattered rocks.
And then I heard it—muffled through the metal and dirt:
"Juna, keep watch. If one of those sky-sniffers hovers too low, clip its wings and crush the core."
It sounded like Usumi.
"And Korai—" the rest got swallowed by distance. They were already walking deeper in.
Huh?
The voice was dry. Deadpan. Like they were asking someone to check the oven, not watch for surveillance death machines.
Like this was normal.
What kind of job were they doing?
And why did it feel like I was about to find out the hard way?
I stared at the hatch they went through.
My hand hesitated on the handle. It was old, rough, probably lead-coated and rusted through a dozen winters. It smelled like copper and wet stone.
I shouldn't.
I really shouldn't.
But I cracked it open anyway—just enough to squeeze through.
The metal groaned softly, and I froze.
Waited.
No voices. No alarms. No one running back.
I slipped in.
The tunnel swallowed me.
It wasn't pitch-black, but close—just a flicker of stolen power lines snaking along the ceiling, pulsing low orange and sickly green. The kind of lights that made it hard to tell who was friend or foe.
Ahead, I caught a glimpse of their backs—three of them, walking like they knew the layout by heart. No talking. Just that kind of silence that hums with violence waiting to happen.
I stayed back. Far enough not to be seen. Close enough not to get lost.
✦ ✦ ✦
They moved with practiced ease, gathering in a tight circle near the cracked concrete wall where the tunnel ended. The air was thick with tension, but their voices were low, confident, as they ran through their plan one last time.
Usumi glanced at Juna with a smirk. "This is where you say it, right, Juna?"
Juna met his gaze steadily. "It's all set. The security protocols are bypassed, and the path inside is clear."
Kaori chuckled and nudged Juno, who bumped back playfully. "Better be," Kaori said with a grin, "or we're going for round two."
Juno laughed softly, but the smile faded instantly as her eyes met Juna's cold stare—an unspoken reminder of what had happened between them last week in the bathroom. The air thickened for a moment before Usumi cut in.
"Alright," he said, checking the gear strapped tight to their bodies. "We're here. Time to move."
Pon watched them from the shadows, her breath shallow. The place they'd reached was startlingly bright compared to the darkness of the tunnel. Neon and flickering lights spilled over the cracked pavement, forcing Pon to raise her hands instinctively to shield her eyes. She stumbled on a loose stone, nearly making a noise that would have given her away.
Juna's head snapped back sharply, eyes scanning the perimeter. "Did you hear that?" she muttered.
But Pon was already gone—vanished like a whisper behind a fractured pillar, pressed tight against the cool concrete.
From her hidden vantage, Pon's eyes darted over the group, catching every movement. Usumi's calm leadership, Kaori's steady grip on her weapon, Juna's focused attention on her portable console, and Juno's quiet readiness to strike.
Usumi's voice broke through the tension. "Here's the place. We get the crates. We get out. No mistakes."
Pon swallowed hard. The weight of the moment pressed down on her chest. She didn't know what was in those crates. Or why these people were risking everything to steal them.
But one thing was clear.
These guys were probably complete and utter criminals.
And she was already too deep in to turn back.