Profession, Merchant Volume 8 Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Chapter 5 – Bully Girl, II ※

I couldn’t take my eyes off her, although I had to make fun of myself for remembering such a seemingly unimportant thing when I couldn’t even recognize myself.

This girl had such a pretty face that you would never think she was thinking of such indecent things, yet today, those innocent and determined eyes were all filled with ecstasy.

Her chestnut silky hair and navy-blue shawl, tucked in front of her tits, trembled with every movement of her body.

Her thighs also shook with the vibrations of the toy as if to show how elastic they are.

Most importantly, the crotch of her blue panties is beginning to darken in one area, and that area is spreading out so much that the fleshiness of the important part it was supposed to hide is now easily being seen.

“Fuaaahh! Hyaaan!!”

I snapped to attention as a very loud voice was raised on the next.

No, it’s inappropriate to look in here anymore, my consciousness told me this.

Should I call out to her? No, even with lost memories, I know that such a thing would be an act devoid of delicacy.

Perhaps I should just walk away in silence.

But since I didn’t know where to go, I finally decided to stay in my peeping posture.

But while it may be said that people are not what they seem, is it possible for such a youthful, glamorous girl to be shopping for adult toys?

No, of course, she couldn’t.

Then there must have been people who gave her toys and encouraged her to do such an absurd thing.

How outrageous.

If I were to meet such a person, I would try to bash his head in and kill him.

While my heart was sinking with such incomprehensible hostility, the girl arched her lithe body and looked up at the ceiling with her pointed chin.

She seems to have reached her climax.

○●○●

“So, have your memories returned? Is there at least something you can remember?”

The girl asks with a serious look on her face as if she wasn’t the same person who masturbated earlier.

I felt disturbed and a little awkward. Partly because of the sense of exoticism I get from entering a girl’s room, but mostly because I was now so close to her.

We are sitting side by side on the edge of the bed, and she is leaning in so discreetly that I can feel her breath on her slender shoulders as well as the warmth of her thighs.

“Hey, are you listening? This is about you, so take it seriously.”

“Sorry. Um, I still don’t remember anything.”

“Are you sure? Nothing at all? Not even the slightest? Are you even trying?”

The eyes that ask like this are not in the least clouded, but only reflect a concern for my well-being.

But even though I’m truly sorry, no matter how hard I try, my memories just won’t come out.

“I am trying. But I can’t help it. It’s all a blur in my head. Without a clue or a hint to trigger my memory, I’m stuck.”

“A clue? A clue?”

“To put it bluntly, give me a clue. You knew me before I lost my memory, didn’t you? Yes, that’s what I meant.”

“I see. I get it.”

The girl then jumps up on the cushions of her bed, opens her wardrobe, and rummages through it.

“Hmm, what about this and this?”

The girl tilts her head, holding in her left hand a dainty white cut-and-sew top with ruffles on the shoulders and ribbons on the chest, and in her right hand a black miniskirt with fluttering pleats.

“How about this? It suits you, doesn’t it?”

Is she asking about my taste?

Well, she’s lovely, so I’m sure she’d look stunning in anything she wore, and I’m sure she’d look even prettier in such girly, glamorous clothes.

“Well, I’d better go.”

I tried to walk away, but the girl grabbed my arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Outside. Because you’re going to change, aren’t you?”

I said, pointing at the clothes she had just laid out.

“What’s the point of me changing? You’re the one who’s going to change here, not me.”

“Huh? I’m not sure what you mean…”

“Ah, right…”

The girl’s eyes open slightly as if she has just realized something.

“I guess I’ll have to explain it to you. You see, when we met before, you were always dressed as a girl. Maybe you were a severe cross-dresser. So I think if you dressed as a girl, as you usually do, it would bring you closer to your true self.”

“Wait, wait a minute.”

It wasn’t that her explanation was hard to understand, but I was confused because my head couldn’t keep up.

“But I always thought of myself as a man…”

“You identify as a man, yes. But you have a habit of dressing up as a woman.”

“Are you ki… Well, let’s take a step back and say that I have been dressing as a woman in front of you. But you can’t say that I dressed like a woman in front of everyone else, can you? For sure, there might be circumstances involved.”

“Circumstances? What circumstances?”

“I don’t know, maybe I had to do it for my job or something.”

“But we met at the Andersen Girls’ Academy. You wore a sailor uniform every day and behaved more like a schoolgirl than other schoolgirls, to the point where no one suspected you were a boy. Wouldn’t it be strange if it was all because “it’s part of the job”? If that’s the case, just what kind of job do you have?”

Just what kind of person is she talking about? Does she mean that I barged into a girls’ school dressed as a woman with no pretext at all?

What kind of irredeemable pervert was I?

“Hey, don’t look at me like the world is ending. I think everyone has their own tastes and preferences, don’t you agree?”

This girl offers words of comfort with such all-encompassing generosity.

What a good girl. A true maiden.

If only her words weren’t so…

“Are you perhaps ashamed? That’s not good, because you’re the most shameless person I’ve ever met. That’s your true self. Now let’s get through this. First, you have to put on these panties…”

As she says this, the girl offers me a pair of pure white panties with a blue ribbon that shimmers in the sunlight.

“If that’s my true self, then leave them! I don’t want them back!”

There are things you can do and things you cannot do, no matter how important they are.

“Hey, now. It was you who said you wanted something to trigger your memory. Why are you getting angry all of a sudden?”

“No, I… I’m not angry or anything. It’s just…”

Oh no. Did I sound a bit moody back there?

“Oh, forget it!”

The girl shouts and starts to tidy up.

“W-wait…”

But she stops immediately when I stop her.

I don’t know what to believe.

I know she’s saying that because she’s thinking about me.

Assuming that I was originally a person with a severe cross-dressing habit, in a broad sense, this can be said to be self-deserved.

On top of that, it might be a chance to get my memory back. I should do as she says – wait, what? I mean, how is that possible?

But…

“What now?”

“I’ll wear it.”

Ah, crap. Now I’ve really done it.

“Really?”

The girl’s pouty face flew away, and was replaced by a dazzling, heart-clenching smile.

No. No. Don’t do that. If you do that, I won’t be able to refuse.

“Y-yes… but this…”

“Good. First, let’s take off what you’re wearing.”

It wasn’t even a request. When she heard me agree, she gently reached for my belt and began to unbuckle it.

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