Entry into new friend groups is rarely smooth. Sometimes you need to establish who the lady of the house is! Ohohoho~
—
The restaurant was far fancier than Himeyawa had expected.
She paused just inside the tall glass doors, letting them close behind her with a soft, expensive-sounding hush. Warm golden light pooled across polished marble floors. Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead like frozen constellations. Somewhere deeper inside, a piano was playing something gentle and deliberate… the kind of music that made people lower their voices without realizing why.
Himeyawa smoothed down the front of her dress.
She had chosen something elegant, but not overly extravagant. A dark crimson evening dress that hugged her figure without trying too hard. Tasteful and respectable. The sort of thing one wore when meeting a friend of a goddess who seemed to make new acquaintances faster than she could explain them.
She exhaled slowly.
Nagisa had spoken highly of this Wan-Ting. Very highly.Which, admittedly, was not unusual. Nagisa tended to get excited about people.
Still… a private dinner invitation from someone she had never met before.
It would have been easy to decline.
But after thinking about it for a day or two, Himeyawa had decided that saying no would feel strangely… rude. Besides, Nagisa had insisted it would be a pleasant evening. And despite the chaos that seemed to follow that orange-haired goddess everywhere, she had yet to lead Himeyawa into anything truly unpleasant.
So here she was.
She took a few steps forward, heels clicking softly. A waiter nodded politely and gestured toward a more secluded part of the restaurant, a quiet corner surrounded by tall decorative screens and soft candlelight.
And there she saw her.
Wan-Ting sat already waiting at the table.
Long white hair fell past her shoulders in smooth silken waves, one eye partly hidden behind deliberate strands. She wore a pristine white dress, flowing, refined, almost ethereal in its simplicity. It contrasted sharply with the image Himeyawa had formed from the one photograph Nagisa had shown her.
In that picture, Wan-Ting had been wearing a lab coat, sleeves rolled up, smudges of something dark across her gloves and a mischievous smile that suggested she had just done something highly questionable in the name of science.
This version of her looked so… composed. So elegant.
Dangerously charming.
Wan-Ting noticed her immediately and smiled.
“Himeyawa, I presume?”
Her voice was warm and inviting, the kind of tone that made one feel expected rather than merely welcomed.
Himeyawa approached the table and returned the smile. “That would be me, yes. And you must be Wan-Ting. Nagisa has mentioned you quite a few times.”
“Only good things, I hope.”
“Mostly mysterious things,” Himeyawa replied lightly.
Wan-Ting laughed in a soft and musical way and gestured toward the chair across from her. “Please, sit. I’m very glad you agreed to come.”
Himeyawa took her seat, folding her hands neatly in her lap for a moment as she glanced around the table setting. Everything was immaculate. Fine porcelain. Thin-stemmed crystal glasses. A selection of wines already waiting in a carefully arranged lineup.
Her curiosity finally won.
“So… what exactly is going to happen tonight?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in polite amusement. “Nagisa was… unusually vague.”
Wan-Ting leaned forward slightly, the candlelight catching in her pale hair. Without answering immediately, she gently slid one of the filled glasses across the table until it came to rest in front of Himeyawa.
Deep red wine shimmered within.
“Nothing complicated,” Wan-Ting said. “I simply felt like doing a bit of taste testing this evening. Trying different wines, comparing notes… indulging in something refined for once. But drinking alone is terribly dull. And the occasion seemed perfect to invite you. Nagisa, as you may have noticed, rarely drinks.”
Himeyawa let out a small laugh.
“Well, then you’ve certainly asked the right person.”
She picked up the glass without hesitation and lifted it slightly.
Wan-Ting mirrored the motion, her smile widening just a touch.
“To a pleasant evening,” Himeyawa said.
“To excellent company,” Wan-Ting replied.
Crystal chimed softly as their glasses touched.
They drank.
The wine was… wonderful.
Rich and smooth, with a warmth that spread through Himeyawa almost instantly. It wasn’t just the taste, though that alone was enough to make her hum quietly in approval, but the sensation that followed. A gentle lightness blossomed behind her eyes. The tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying melted away like frost under the morning sun.
Her shoulders relaxed.
Her thoughts slowed.
A soft, contented smile curved across her lips.
She exhaled, feeling almost as if she could watch her worries drift away into the candlelit air itself.
She felt so warm. So happy. So free.
For the first time since stepping into the restaurant, Himeyawa felt completely certain of one thing.
Tonight was going to be a very good night.
Just as Hime managed to gather her thoughts again, she noticed movement across the table.
Wan-Ting had already reached for the next bottle.
The white-haired scientist moved with unhurried elegance, tilting the dark glass just enough for a new stream of wine to flow into both of their crystal glasses. This one was a deeper shade. It looked richer, almost velvety in the candlelight.
Hime blinked slowly, still basking in the pleasant haze left behind by the first drink.
“…And what exactly are these wines?” she asked, voice softer now, curiosity wrapped in warmth.
Wan-Ting’s lips curved into a playful smile. A faint giggle escaped her like she knew something Hime didn’t.
“Oh, my dear,” she said, sliding one of the filled glasses across the table, “there is only one way to find out, is there not?”
Himeyawa couldn’t help but laugh.
There was something infectious about Wan-Ting’s energy. Something daring and conspiratorial. It made the whole evening feel like a secret adventure.
“Well then,” Hime said, lifting the glass again. “To discovery.”
Wan-Ting raised her own in response.
They drank.
The effect was immediate.
The warmth, even stronger this time, surged through Himeyawa’s body like liquid sunlight. It rushed downward, then upward again, concentrating intensely in her chest. She stiffened slightly in her chair as an unfamiliar pressure began to build there.
“…Oh?”
Her breath hitched.
The sensation wasn’t painful. Not at all. It was… strange. Full. Expanding. Like a deep breath that never quite stopped.
Hime glanced down.
Her eyes widened.
The fabric of her dress was shifting.
Not tearing, never tearing, but flowing, adjusting, stretching as if reality itself were politely making room. Beneath it, her breasts were swelling, rounding outward with steady, undeniable growth. The elegant neckline of her outfit dipped lower as her figure filled it more and more.
She could see it happening.
Feel it.
Each subtle pulse of warmth pushed them further outward. Heavier. Softer. Larger. The sensation spread through her shoulders and back, changing her posture without effort. Her body seemed to instinctively adapt to the new weight, settling into it as though it had always belonged there.
Across the table, Wan-Ting was experiencing the same transformation, though she appeared far less surprised. Her own chest rose proudly against the pristine white dress, the garment reshaping itself into something even more fitted and luxurious.
The wineglass slipped from Hime’s fingers onto the table as the final drop slid down her throat.
A quiet sound of pure, involuntary pleasure escaped her lips.
Then the warmth faded.
Her thoughts scattered like startled birds.
For a moment she simply sat there, breathing slowly, the world feeling soft around the edges.
When clarity returned, it did so gently, as though nothing unusual had happened at all.
Her gaze lowered again.
Her chest now felt perfectly natural. Comfortable and heavy. A generous, extravagant fullness, easily an oversized H-cup, far surpassing anything she had seen on most women in the restaurant.
Except…
Her eyes drifted upward.
Wan-Ting.
The scientist leaned back in her chair with serene confidence, her own newly amplified curves resting effortlessly against the table’s edge. The candlelight played across smooth fabric and soft shadows, emphasizing a silhouette that was… undeniably impressive.
Himeyawa realized she had been staring.
For several seconds.
Wan-Ting did not look away.
She simply smiled.
Knowingly.
Almost… seductively.
Heat rushed to Hime’s cheeks.
She straightened at once, bringing a hand up as if that might somehow conceal her embarrassment.
“My apologies,” she muttered, suddenly very aware of herself in ways she hadn’t been a moment ago.
Wan-Ting only laughed quietly.
“Oh, please,” she said. “It would be terribly rude not to appreciate fine developments.”
She then winked, but did not comment on Himeyawa’s flustered state.
Instead, she simply reached for another bottle.
Hime hadn’t even noticed when she had done so.
One moment the table had held empty glasses and flickering candlelight, the next, a fresh pair of ruby-filled crystal cups stood waiting between them.
Himeyawa straightened slightly.
She was absolutely not going to admit that she had been too busy staring at Wan-Ting’s chest to notice basic things like wine being poured.
So she did the only dignified thing available.
She smiled.
Raised her glass.
“To… continued discovery,” she said.
Wan-Ting’s visible eye glimmered with amusement as she lifted her own.
They drank.
The sensation struck faster this time.
The warmth didn’t linger in her chest, instead it flowed downward in a smooth, heavy wave. It spread through her waist, her hips… then settled deep in her lower body like she had just sat on the most luxurious heated seat imaginable.
Hime stiffened.
“…Ah.”
A slow, nostalgic fullness began to bloom.
Not unpleasant. Never unpleasant. Just Comforting, indulgent, and most of all Expanding.
She shifted in her chair.
The pressure grew.
Her hips pushed outward against the fabric of her dress, which once again responded as if reality itself were politely stepping aside. The seams did not strain, nor did her cloth tear. It simply became more, reshaping around her as her figure swelled.
Her thighs thickened first, pressing together with plush firmness, forcing her to adjust her posture. Then came the widening of her hips, a steady outward growth that made the chair creak softly in protest.
Hime’s breath slowed.
She could feel it happening.
Feel the weight gathering behind her, rounding, lifting, filling with warm buoyant heaviness. Her skirt flowed outward as her backside grew more pronounced, more generous, more… impossible.
It spilled subtly over the edges of the seat.
Her legs shifted instinctively, accommodating the new fullness. The sensation of her thighs brushing together was constant now. So dense and powerful, almost intoxicating in its solidity.
Across the table, Wan-Ting was undergoing the same transformation with far more composure. She simply leaned back, allowing her own hips to claim their space with regal confidence.
The final swallow slid down Hime’s throat.
Another soft sound escaped her lips, helpless and blissful.
And then her thoughts slipped away again.
When awareness returned, it did so wrapped in contentment.
Her body felt perfectly normal.
Perfectly balanced.
Her backside now carried a magnificent, extravagant weight, so soft, yet so commanding. Her hips swayed even with the smallest movement, and her thighs pressed together with such plush strength that she had the faint, ridiculous impression she could crush fruit without effort.
She glanced around the restaurant.
No one else seemed to compare.
Except…
Wan-Ting.
The scientist rose smoothly from her seat.
The motion alone was… distracting.
Her newly amplified curves shifted with elegant momentum, the flowing white dress accentuating every luxurious sway as she turned. For a moment, Hime found herself watching the movement with complete, silent fascination.
Wan-Ting said something. She definitely did. She sounded polite, refined… Something about needing to speak briefly with the waiter.
Hime registered the words only vaguely.
Her mind felt light.
Happy.
Tipsy in the most pleasant way imaginable.
But more than that… there was a strange gravitational pull to the sight before her. Each step Wan-Ting took seemed to draw Hime’s gaze along helplessly, as though her thoughts were tethered to that slow, confident rhythm.
By the time Wan-Ting disappeared behind a decorative screen, Hime was still staring after her.
And only then did she realize she had completely forgotten what they had been talking about.
Wan-Ting did not stay gone for long.
Only a few moments passed before she reappeared from behind the decorative screen, and when she did, it was impossible not to notice.
She walked with a slow, deliberate sway that seemed to command the entire room. Her white dress flowed around her like liquid silk, accentuating every luxurious shift of her hips. Conversations nearby faltered. Glasses paused halfway to lips. Even the soft piano seemed momentarily less important than the sight of her crossing the polished floor.
The waiter trailing behind her was clearly trying very hard to maintain professionalism.
Himeyawa, however, was not even attempting to look away.
Her eyes followed Wan-Ting helplessly, drawn along by that confident rhythm as though her attention had been gently hooked and reeled in. Each step felt so theatrical, so intentional. So… mesmerizing.
Resistance was simply futile.
By the time Wan-Ting reached the table again and lowered herself into her chair, which creaked faintly under her newfound grandeur, Hime realized she had not blinked once.
Wan-Ting smiled.
“There we are,” she said pleasantly. “Now… the next wine may be a little stronger than the ones we have enjoyed so far. And the one after that… ah, that will be the finest of the evening.”
She leaned forward slightly, her tone turning playful.
“But for now, my dear, I recommend bracing yourself.”
The waiter, still recovering from his distracted state, and momentarily losing focus again when his gaze drifted to Himeyawa’s impressive chest, quickly poured the next selection into their glasses. The deep red liquid shimmered under candlelight.
He cleared his throat, bowed awkwardly, and excused himself with suspicious haste.
Hime barely noticed.
Wan-Ting lifted her glass.
Hime mirrored the motion automatically.
“To refinement,” Wan-Ting said.
“To refinement,” Hime echoed.
They drank.
The effect was overwhelming.
Warmth did not spread slowly this time, it surged straight upward, flooding Hime’s head in a powerful yet strangely gentle rush. It felt like a radiant wave washing through her thoughts, smoothing rough edges she hadn’t known were there. Pleasant certainty replaced lingering doubts. Confidence blossomed like a perfectly cultivated rose.
Her posture changed without conscious effort.
Back straight.
Chest lifted proudly.
Chin tilted just enough to suggest effortless superiority.
She became acutely aware of her own presence, of the way she occupied space, of the weight of elegance settling around her like an invisible mantle.
Her voice felt different too.
Richer. Slower. More deliberate.
She tried to speak, to comment on the sensation, perhaps, but instead a musical laugh slipped from her lips, entirely unbidden.
“Ohohoho~”
The sound surprised her.
And delighted her.
Across the table, Wan-Ting’s visible eye sparkled with aristocratic amusement.
“Ohohoho~ my dear,” she declared grandly, one gloved hand resting lightly against her cheek. “This is the most splendid beverage my own tongue has ever encountered! Do you not find yourself in agreement?”
Himeyawa did not even question the words forming in her mind.
She simply allowed them to emerge.
“Indeed it is,” she replied, voice now lilting with exaggerated refinement. “My dearest Wan-Ting, you have demonstrated a most excellent taste in your selections! Ohohoho~!”
Their laughter rang softly through the candlelit corner. They were elegant, theatrical, utterly convinced of its own magnificence.
The waiter returned so suddenly that Himeyawa almost wondered if he had been standing there the entire time.
Or perhaps she had simply been far too occupied with more important matters to notice his approach.
He bowed deeply, placing a new bottle upon the table with reverence usually reserved for sacred relics.
“Madams,” he said with solemn pride, “this is the finest wine our establishment has to offer.”
Wan-Ting did not even hesitate.
“Naturally,” she replied, waving a graceful hand as though such things were expected. “Anything less would hardly suffice for an evening of our caliber.”
Himeyawa nodded at once.
“Indeed. One must maintain standards.”
Crystal glasses were filled once more. The liquid glowed richly in the light. It was much deeper, more decadent than anything they had tasted so far.
Hime raised her glass with confident poise.
“This had better be extraordinary,” she declared.
They drank.
The reaction was immediate, overwhelming in the most exhilarating way imaginable.
Warmth exploded through Hime’s body, surging along every path already carved by the previous wines. Her chest swelled first, rising proudly against the fabric of her dress as though answering an unspoken command. The sensation was intense but blissful, a second wave of growth that pushed her curves beyond even the limits she had so recently accepted as normal. Calling them J-cups might have been an understatement at this point.
The elegant neckline reshaped itself once more, accommodating a fullness that now bordered on the truly extravagant.
Across the table, Wan-Ting’s figure followed the same magnificent trajectory.
At the same time, Hime felt the familiar heated pressure bloom again in her hips and behind. Her already generous curves expanded further, soft and powerful, until she was certain nearly half of her newfound mass extended comfortably beyond the edges of the chair. Her thighs pressed together with plush authority, the sensation of their weight grounding and intoxicating all at once.
Then reality itself seemed to… adjust.
Her dress shimmered.
Fabric deepened in color, layers multiplying into an impossibly luxurious gown adorned with lace, silk, and subtle golden embroidery. Jewels appeared as though they had always been part of her attire, sparkling at her throat, wrists, and ears.
Her hair grew heavier.
Long crimson strands spiraled outward into elaborate drills that framed her face with theatrical perfection, cascading down past her shoulders in elegant coils.
Her voice, when she gasped in delighted surprise, echoed slightly, as though the world had decided her presence deserved acoustics worthy of royalty.
The furniture changed next.
The chairs widened with a dignified creak, transforming into cushioned seats fit for queens. The table expanded outward into a grand circular arrangement, its surface now crowded with ornate dishes, glittering bottles, and delicacies that looked too expensive to even describe.
For a moment, the two women simply stared at their surroundings.
Then they laughed.
“Ohohohoho~!”
Wan-Ting lifted her glass high.
“My dear,” she proclaimed, eyes shining with aristocratic delight, “the night remaineth most youthful! There existeth countless vintages yet untested, treasures beyond the dreams of common peasants!”
Himeyawa felt a thrill of agreement surge through her.
“Most true!” she declared. “For none possesseth refinement nor lineage comparable to ours! Let us indulge without restraint!”
Their laughter rang louder now, richer and more confident.
“Ohohohoho~!”
And so the evening continued.
More wine.
More extravagant toasts.
More theatrical declarations of superiority.
They spoke of elegance as though it were a divine right. They dismissed imaginary critics with flicks of jeweled fingers. They reveled in the absurd luxury surrounding them, basking in a shared conviction that the world itself existed merely as a stage for their magnificence.
Deep into the night, their laughter, bright, haughty, and endlessly amused, echoed through the restaurant like a duet of unstoppable aristocratic joy.
—
Morning arrived like an act of violence.
Himeyawa became aware of consciousness in slow, painful fragments.
First came the light, far too bright and far too unforgiving, stabbing through her eyelids like tiny burning needles.
Then came the sound of distant city life, muffled and irritating.
And finally…
The headache.
It throbbed behind her eyes with royal authority.
“…Ugh…”
She groaned and shifted slightly in her bed.
That was when she felt it.
Fabric.
Heavy fabric.
Layers of it.
Her eyes snapped open.
She sat up… and immediately regretted the speed of that decision as her vision swam. When the world finally settled again, she looked down at herself.
She was wearing a dress.
Not just any dress.
An absurd dress.
It was aristocratic to a degree she had never witnessed outside of theatrical performances or extremely questionable paintings. Silk cascaded in excessive folds. Gold thread shimmered along seams that seemed to go on forever. Jewels were stitched into places where jewels had absolutely no practical reason to exist.
And the shape.
The shape!
The bust area was enormous.
Utterly, impossibly enormous.
Hime blinked at it.
“…Who,” she muttered hoarsely, “is even supposed to fit in this…?”
She shifted again, and the entire upper half of the gown slid downward slightly as though admitting defeat.
The space meant for hips and backside was even worse. The structure of the dress assumed proportions so exaggerated that Hime could not even begin to fill them. The fabric hung awkwardly, pooling around her like she had stolen ceremonial clothing from some aristocratic giant.
The moment she tried to stand, half of it simply slipped off her shoulder.
She froze.
Her head pounded harder.
Memories tried to surface.
Wine.
Laughter.
Candlelight.
A white dress.
A smile that looked far too pleased with itself.
Hime pressed a hand to her temple.
The harder she tried to recall details, the more ridiculous everything felt. Images flashed through her mind, of towering gowns, echoing laughter, declarations of superiority that now sounded so over-the-top they bordered on parody.
It felt like a dream.
No…
Worse.
Like she had been the victim of some elaborate aristocratic prank.
Her eyes widened.
“…Wait.”
Realization struck like a lightning bolt.
The wine tasting.
Wan-Ting’s invitation.
Nagisa’s suspicious enthusiasm.
Her expression twisted into outrage.
“That was a setup…”
She staggered fully to her feet, the oversized gown slumping dramatically around her ankles.
“That entire evening was a trap!”
Himeyawa clenched her fists and threw her head back toward the ceiling.
“What the hell did you do to me yesterdayyyyyy!!!”
Her voice echoed through the room… half furious, half incredulous.
She stood there breathing heavily, surrounded by silk, jewels, and the worst hangover of her life.
Deep down, she still wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about what had happened.
But for now?
Being upset at Nagisa and Wan-Ting felt like the most reasonable course of action available…