Harem Hijinks, Part 2 (Field Trip Group to Anime Harem TG) (Patreon)

By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for Al

After a landslide claims the lives of Ken and several other archaeology students on a field trip to Japan, the great Creator himself apologises for this accident and gives them a chance for a second life. But when Ken talks about his love of harem anime tropes before the others can speak, this ditzy creator sends them all to a new world that operates on anime principles . . . and where Ken’s fellow students and his professor are now all cute anime girls who are desperately trying to fight off their new roles, and their new attraction to him.

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Part 2: Mao

Mao wasn’t entirely convinced she hadn’t just had some bad mushrooms or something. Sure, she felt a hell of a lot different, and certainly a lot less chill when it came to attitude, but she’d taken LSD and magic mushrooms and all kinds of hallucinogens before, and those had also produced some wild effects. And given that this world she found herself in was like an anime come to life, complete with exaggerated hairstyles, hair colours, ridiculously showy school uniforms and animated emotions dancing above people’s heads, it only made sense that this was all just some strange trip.

So instead of rallying against these compulsions, the new Chinese-Japanese student leaned in them, accepting that they would end. She had been Mark before, and it while it was near impossible to think of herself as Mark presently, she was certain she would think of herself as Mark again when it was over.

“It is going to be over,” she said to herself as she strode through the halls of Takahiro College. “I refuse to be stuck in this ridiculous girly body! Especially one with such little breasts! It simply won’t do, gāisǐ de!”

She noticed her reflection in the glass-lined cabinets of sports trophies as she passed. Mao was not particularly tall, nor greatly curvy, but she was pretty damn cute but for her bossy expression and general grimace. She strode forth like she was on a mission, causing her double-buns upon her head to wobble with a bit of comedic effect as she did so. Her fists were clenched, and anger roiled through her.

“How dare he make us like this! I don’t care if this is some bad drug trip, it’s somehow Ken’s fault! Kenji’s, I mean. When you go on a trip there are certain things that can ruin it, and all that talk of manga and harems and all that absolute nonsense has meant this is how I’m seeing the world! Hmmph!”

And yet still, she followed her instincts, rounding the corner of the hall and merging with a great body of students. A number of them got in her way, or gave her some funny looks due to her exchange status. She pushed them out of the way, exercising a dominance that Mark never would have possessed.

“Out of my way! Yídòng! Move! I don’t have all day!”

She shoved through the crowd. Somehow, she knew she had calligraphy class, and she was determined to focus on that and get the thoughts of Kenji out of her mind. Despite her anger at him, she couldn’t deny that he looked damn cute, especially with his clean-shaven face and male uniform. It made her feel a little weird, and that weirdness made her angry.

“He said something before, when I was leaving. Something about me being a tsundere. What does that mean? Bah! No point finding out, it’s all just nonsense anyway. Kenji got us here, somehow. Baka! Bèndàn!”

She entered her class and found her desk immediately, not letting anyone else take her spot, despite the fact that this place was entirely new to her. Somehow, this trip was obviously impacting her brain enough to fill out a story, something Mark had experienced before. He just hadn’t counted on a trip where he had boobs, and ones that felt so real. He was almost tempted to touch them, as well as feel between his - her - legs, when another student entered: Rika, formerly Ryan.

“M-may I sit here, please?” she asked, indicating next to Mao.

The new Chinese-Japanese girl rolled her eyes. “Whatever! Take it if you want it. But don’t expect me to be all nice; we weren’t close before, and besides, you’re not real.”

Rika looked alarmed, though she took longer to respond than Ryan would have. Another clue that this was all fake; the real Ryan was decisive, not submissive.

“I’m not real? What do you mean. This is very real, and we need to find a way out before we end up following all the harem story tropes. You were there with Kenji just moments ago, you would have felt some weird . . . feelings towards him. The rest of us did! Even Tomoko, and she used to be our professor, Mao!”

Mao sighed dismissively. “It’s true, I definitely don’t feel like myself. I never would have snapped at people or pushed anyone over. I’m meant to be very mellow. But that’s just further evidence that I’m on drugs or something. The fact that taking drugs seems very distasteful right now is just further proof I’m probably on them.”

“What - what kind of logic is that!? Mao, we’ve all been reborn, and we’re all women. This is real. We need to all meet up during the first break and figure this out. Alicia is already making weird comments about how she wants to take him out and dress him up all cute - poor Ali can’t help herself!”

But Mao just slammed her hand down firmly upon the table, silencing not just Rika but the entire room, who paused in awe.

“Shut up about this nonsense! Just let me get to the end of this bad trip, huh? And stop talking about Kenji. I don’t care about him at all! Not one bit, okay!”

Her cheeks developed two unnatural red marks of embarrassment on them, and she looked the other way. Even her hair had gone briefly messy to indicate her irritation, only to return to normal a moment later, as per the rules of this universe. Rika herself was shocked: in that moment of intimidation, she had literally shrunk down to the size of a child beneath the behemoth that was Mao’s tsundere fury. This exaggerated symbolic portrait only lasted for a few seconds before all was returned to normal.

No one else in the class thought it was out of place at all.

“Mao’s on the rampage again,” someone whispered.

“Yeah, because she mentioned Kenji. She can’t admit she’s got the hots for him.”

“WHO SAID THAT!?” she cried, eyes going completely white, teeth sharp as she leered at the people behind her. As before, this effect dissipated the moment the crowd was cowed. “That’s what I thought! Now shut up and wait for our teacher. Some of us want to learn.”

She didn’t, but it was a good cover. She certainly wasn’t going to be doodling little secret pictures of Kenji in the corner of her paper. No, certainly not. Nor would she be secretly writing his name in Mandarin just to practise it.

It was all part of the trip. She was certain of it.

***

Mao was feeling a lot less certain when the bells rang and the student body exited out of the building. Mrs Hamimoto congratulated Mao personally on her excellent poise and deliberate care when writing her hiragana and katakana, which made the new woman quite proud. It also made her a little concerned; how long was this trip going to last, and since when did she ever care about getting good grades and praise from the teacher? When a student had murmured a comment about Mao being the ‘overseas teacher’s pet’, she had practically snapped.

“Bèndàn! Who said that? Come and say it to my face so I can slap the funny right out of you, tough guy?”

The young men had shrunk away. One had even skidded out of the door in a literal cartoonish puff of smoke.

“Ugh, this is so weird. I’m twenty years old but this school is like a high school, except they’re all of age too. Harem mangas are just too weird. There’s even those stupid, ridiculous moments when the crowd parts and the girl just happens to see the guy in slow motion and - and - damn!”

That was exactly what happened at that very moment. She was making her way outside when she came to the intersection of the hallway filled with other students her age. As she pushed through them, her new natural aggression coursing through her, she suddenly burst through to an oh-so-conveniently empty space, one occupied only by Kenji. His handsome, boyish features seemed to look her way in slow motion towards her, his kind eyes settling on her form and making her feel utterly special. She could tell he was attracted to her, and moreover that she was attracted to him. What kind of trip could possibly simulate that? It was like, suddenly, her whole universe revolved around him.

“K-Kenji,” she managed, cheeks burning an unnatural red.

“Mao! How was class? I’m still so sorry about all of this, but I hope you’re adjusting. This world really is something else, isn’t it?”

“Baka!” she cried in Japanese, before following up with the Mandarin equivalent.

He exhaled in a kind of confused stutter, a sound clip she knew existed in many anime clips. Not the kind of sound someone would make in real life, but it seemed to suit the genre conventions she was now in.

“What’s wrong?”

“Am I on drugs or what? How come I’m a girl?”

“You - you were there. Don’t you remember how we-”

“Of course I remember, idiot! I - I’m just trying to figure it all out. This has to be a trip, right? I’m just hallucinating. No way are these real!”

She fondled her tits right in front of him, shifting one up and the other down, and vice-versa. The blouses for the girls at the school were fairly form-fitting, it seemed. Kenji briefly had a blood nose in response to the sight.

“Um, they certainly, uh, look real, Mao!”

Mao halted. The sickly realisation came over her. This was real. The sensation of her nipples stiffening, of the embarrassment of touching her breasts in public with all these students watching, even of her strange attraction to Kenji’s cute new nice guy form . . . they all pointed to something else deeper going on. The Creator had been real. Their deaths had been real. All of it was real.

Mao swore. “What are you all looking at!?” she screeched. “Scram out of here!”

She grabbed Kenji by the hand.

“Let’s go see the rest and figure this out, you moron,” she said. “And don’t get any ideas about when I was touching my boobs a moment ago. It’s not - it’s not like I like you or anything!”

She pulled him out to the bleachers where they had all first landed. The whole time, Kenji was obviously quite appalled at being literally dragged by his school jacket, but while the milquetoast Mark wouldn’t have cared, her stronger Mao personality had taken over in the meantime.

“I’m sorry about this - I mean, I’m not sorry. You’re at fault for this, baka!”

“It’s just, this is so unlike you, Mao!”

“Ugh, I know! I really need to take a chill pill . . . not that there’s anything wrong with me! How dare you suggest that!”

She gave him a brief sheepish grin that communicated her current woe: if this wasn’t a bad trip, and she really had been turned into a Chinese-Japanese tsundere by Kenji’s wish to the Creator, then it was up to her to try and tame her new mental changes and avoid getting lost in them. Which was very damn hard when the only seeming outlet to avoid her immediate attraction to Kenji was to shout at and demean him. Such a tsundere thing to do, of course.

“Mao, let him go! That’s so mean!”

It was Haruka that spoke. She was glammed up with her dance shoes and gloves still on, and she was thrusting her hands all about as she admonished the tsundere woman. Of course, this had the effect of causing her very large chest to bounce up and down in an overly dramatic fashion, even more so than real gravity would ever cause to occur. For just an instant, Mao was hit with a very deep jealousy of the woman’s mega-chest, particularly when her own was so darn petite.

“Damn lucky, doesn’t deserve that bust.”

“What did you say?”

“I said fine, you can have him!”

She let Kenji go. The Japanese man got back to his feet and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Haruka was the very image of the genki girl; the excitable, extraverted, and beautiful harem stereotype who often had large breasts and performed a lot of unintentional fan service with them. Mao, on the other hand, he’d already figured out. Slowly, the others trickled in: blonde-haired Alicia with her half-French, half-Japanese features and elegant/haughty style, and Rika who positioned herself next to him like a childhood best friend so obviously would, only to realise what she was doing and pull back a little.

“S-sorry,” she mumbled. “I mean, I’m not sorry. We aren’t meant to be - oh, this is so stupid! Where’s Tomoko?”

“Our former professor?” Alicia spoke in her lovely French accent. “She is doing some tutoring with zose girls who simply could not keep up with our shining brilliance!”

Kenji took stock of the four that were present. “Um, how are you all going?”

There was a brief extended silence that was broken only by the generic looped sounds of the baseball team practicing. A comically large droplet of sweat ran down his forehead and disappeared. “Um, so pretty good I take it?”

Mao could have kicked the beautiful man! She wanted to, if it wouldn’t leave a mark on his perfect skin!

“How do you think we feel? I’m meant to be relaxing, but my thoughts keep getting so snippy and snappy and angry! Not to mention I have a vagina now!”

“We all do,” Rika said, before blushing furiously. “Not that I’ve checked!”

“It’s not that bad,” Alicia said, smirking. Then, her expression changed. “What is bad, however, is suddenly being soooooo absolutely shallow and high-minded and elite, when really the system needs to come down instead of me sitting at the top of it. Even if I do look rather marvellous sitting there in my wonderful fashion sense.”

“We’re all trying to fight against these new compulsions,” Rika said, drawing close to Kenji again before stopping herself. She pushed some brown hairs behind her ear, smiling nervously. “Kenji, please, you need to help us. We don’t want to end up as your harem. This is all wrong!”

“I know that,” he said, nervous himself for being surrounded by so many women. “I didn’t expect you all to end up like this! I certainly didn’t ask for that. The Creator cut me off! But I don’t think we’re going to find our way back to the Creator.”

“Well, find one for us then, you dolt!” Mao exclaimed. She jabbed him forcefully in the chest. “I want to go back to being a weed-smoking, uncaring, apathetic and relaxed man, instead of what I am now!”

“Hear hear,” Haruka said, bouncing on the spot. “I didn’t ask for big boobs, and I certainly don’t want to sing. Well I sort of do, and that’s the problem, huh!”

“And I would rather keep my own choices,” Rika said, looking at the ground. “I didn’t ask to be forced back into friendship with you, Kenji. Even if . . . no.”

She refused to elaborate on what had been unsaid. Alicia put a comforting hand on her shoulder and also affirmed her stance silently with the group. Kenji bit his lip, obviously trying to think of a way to placate the group.

“I don’t know what to do, but perhaps my knowledge of harem manga and anime can still help us! I’ll do everything I can to remember all the tropes and expectations from them, and help you steer clear of them.”

“What can we do?” Alicia asked.

Mao crossed her arms.“Yeah, hurry up and give us the cliff notes version, man!”

Kenji thought as quickly as he could, summoning all his knowledge from years of being an unattractive nerd with an intense love of harem storylines. It felt strange to suddenly be an attractive man surrounded by even more attractive women, and so it took longer to centre his thoughts (especially thanks to Haruka’s chest and Alicia’s gorgeous features).

“Okay, so first of all you’ll need to stay clear of me as much as you can, certainly one on one. In pairs is best, though you may have an instinct to fight for my attention.”

“Ugh, this is ridiculous!” Mao exclaimed.

“I know, but it’s part of the fun of the genre. You won’t be able to avoid me completely though; fate will push us together or have us meet up by happenstance. In such cases, try to avoid pulling me into activities that suit your new personalities, or locations.”

“Why?” Alicia asked.

“Because the harem protagonist - the guy, that is - is rarely proactive. In fact, the many women make him nervous. It’s, uh, part of the big appeal. All these women pursue him but he doesn’t have to put in much work.”

She huffed. “Of course. The sad man’s fantasy.”

Kenji blushed. “Well, I suppose it is.” He didn’t mention the other part of the fantasy. That bit would come much later, and he hoped it didn’t actually happen, or the girls would be very angry with him. “But my point is, in most manga and anime examples, the protagonist gets roped into going to the beach, or clothes shopping, or to a festival, or a trip to the mall, and in doing so becomes closer to his, well, his harem girls.”

Mao swallowed. She still had her arms crossed, was still besieged by thoughts of annoyance at her whole situation. But worst of all, she’d been planning to drag Kenji privately to a Chinese noodle place nearby to hash this whole situation out with him. It could have ended up going exactly along with the tropes she wanted to avoid!

“Well,” she said. “Someone better pass this advice onto Tomoko. I imagine she’ll be needing it, as will the rest of you. I will be just fine by myself, thank you very much! I have no interest in you whatsoever, Kenji, until you figure out a way for us to turn back. Gàobié!”

She walked off, her hips swaying more than she intended, as she left the group entirely. She had a new world to figure out her place in, and was certain that she could find a way back anyway.

Still, she turned back to look at Kenji briefly when she wasn’t looking.

“So damn handsome. Damn him!”

***

To Mao’s surprise, life at the college began to normalise as she found her place within it. She knew that her new existence was definitely not a drug-induced trip now, though she almost wished it was. She wished she could go back to a life where everything was completely laissez-faire and illicit chemicals were actually easy to find. Not to mention she still felt a lot of emasculation at losing her manhood.

There were upsides, however, and the biggest one as far as she was concerned was connected to the aforementioned downside. While the new Chinese-Japanese woman had lost her claim to maleness, it also didn’t take long at all for her to explore her new womanhood either. In her new life, Mao lived in a dorm attached to the college, sharing her bunk with a timid girl who was easy to practically ignore, to the point where she still hadn’t learned her name a week in. It wasn’t too different from the original Mark, in fact. He had never learned his roommate’s names due to being too stoned all the time. Now, Mao was just simply too uncaring in a different way, particularly since, like most tsunderes, a lot of her mental energy when back at her place was devoted almost entirely to being unbelievably fucking horny. She could scarcely believe it. She’d never been a hugely sexual being as Mark, but certainly masturbated a little here and there. Well, Mao dreamed of Kenji in all sorts of positions, and she was so sexually frustrated upon waking that she practically barked at her roommate to go have a shower just so she could feel herself up.

And my, what a feeling it was. Mao, like most men in her former life, had imagined from time to time what multiple orgasms would feel like. But imagination fell far short, and even more so when she imagined that it wasn’t herself teasing at her sensitive folds, but instead Kenji’s loving touch.

“Ohhhhh, Kenji! That f-feels so wonderful,” she would moan, or some variation thereof. “I want you in me, you stupid, ridiculous man! If only you could s-see this side of me, when I don’t have to put up a wall in front of the w-world and - Ohh! Ohhhh! YESSSS!!!”

Her body shuddered in pleasure, and in the aftermath she had to fix up her buns as her hair always came undone dramatically. It had a slightly red shine to it, she’d noticed. Fitting, given her new mental compulsions, because she was both embarrassed at what she’d done and angry at who she’d been imagining.

“Damn that man for putting us into this world! And damn him for being so damn cute!”

It was a common refrain as the days followed. She took Kenji’s advice and did her best to ignore him, as did the other women of the group. Alicia as a half-French woman apparently lived in an elegant mansion and so could easily find her own safe space, while Haruka felt compelled to dance and sing under her parents’ paid training, all in the hopes of becoming a big J-pop star. From what Mao knew of such conventions, she’d achieve this dream in the series finale or something. For now, she was at least able to have her own space. Tomoko was a tutor, of course, and thus part of the college faculty. Mao saw her blushing whenever Kenji was near, her behaviour going all clumsy and flustered in her presence. But again, she had her own space. It was Mao and Rika who were suffering the most; Rika because as Kenji’s childhood friend she was basically tied to him at the hip, while Mao didn’t really have much going on.

“This is so frustrating!” she whined to Rika over a week after their changes. “Already I’m struggling not to think about that cute idiot! It’s only been nine days and I’m starting to think more and more like a woman. A crazy one! God, I miss my weed . . .”

Rika put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I know what you mean. Kenji is so kind and lovely and gentle . . . is what my brain keeps telling me. I drifted apart from him in our previous life because I moved on from this kind of anime weirdness, but now we’re all stuck in it. I was taking charge of my life, but now I’m too nervous to even stick my voice up against other people. I’m a total wilting flower. And this blushing effect is the worst.”

“Not as bad as the sudden blood nose when I see him stretch before gym class.”

They both had a brief gushing nose which instantly dissipated.

“Stupid anime trope.”

“Stupid anime trope,” Rika agreed. “But what can I do? I’m his childhood best friend. He talks about it all the time. The best friend is the one that often is ‘victorious’ in an anime or manga, and ends up with the protagonist. I’m doomed! It doesn’t help that I’m soooo cute.”

She was. Cute, attractive, and with gorgeous hair. Mao was briefly annoyed that she had fuller breasts too; nice B or C cups compared to her own dismal A’s.

“Bah! You need to take charge! We need to take charge!” She snapped her fingers dramatically. “I know exactly what we can do! Haruka has her music, Tomoko her tutoring, and Alicia her fashion. We need to do sports!”

“Sports? But I’m a twig now!”

“That’s why we have to toughen you up, silly!”

“You hated sports before.”

Mao briefly sagged. “Don’t I know it. I miss being a couch potato. But this way, if we join the track team, we can keep away from Kenji and get a bit more tough. You miss being tough, don’t you?”

Rika nodded. She did. She so desperately did. That, and being confident and able to express her thoughts without flutters of anxiety, like some wilting flower. Mao grinned at her tepid yet affirmative response.

“It’s decided then. While we figure out how to get back to our old lives, or adjust to our new ones, we join the track team. It’s decided. Chūsè de! Excellent!”

She pulled Rika into a side hug, and it was clear from the body language of the pair of them who was the real decider of this outcome.

***

Mao worked hard in her training. She ran everyday, channelling her frustrated personality into her jogging. She signed up for the college basketball team and even the baseball team, and dragged poor Rika along with her, bossing her all the way. Of course, because this world ran on manga rules, all the sports uniforms managed to be even more revealing than the regular college uniform, with tiny sports shorts and shirts that left their arms entirely bare and part of their midriffs on display. They were also quite . . . snug, leaving their breasts nicely outlined. Well, Rika’s breasts, at least. Mao didn’t have nearly so much to display, which only fuelled her passion on the court, the field, and the track. She was a demon against other competitors, and soon the other students had developed a sensible fear of their opponent when they faced her, because she embraced her inner tsundere madness to conquer as much as she could, often dragging Rika to victory with her. She said as much after a particularly long prep run that left Rika panting, little animated ‘breaths’ of hot air coming from her mouth as she tried to regain herself.

“For goodness sake, Rika, you used to be good at this athletics stuff! I wasn’t! How have we switched places so easily?”

“Blame K-Kenji and his wish. I don’t even know if I can p-put on muscles, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

Rika collapsed in a melodramatic manner upon the curb. “I mean that this world follows all the tropes of Kenji’s favourite manga and anime. I used to read the same things he did, and watch them with him too. And even when these things ran for years, the look of the characters almost never changed. In fact, some of them were basically ageless, like in cartoon sitcoms like The Simpsons. It was only when girls grew bigger boobs or were the type of girl to put on muscle that they actually got it.”

Mao’s eyes widened. “You mean I’ll get bigger boobs?”

Rika sighed again, looking away nervously. “No. I might. Sometimes the childhood friend gets even more beautiful in age, as like a ‘reward’ for the protagonists for choosing his original sweetheart. But you’re the tsundere. They almost never have big chests.”

“WHAT!? That’s not fair! Not that I care! I don’t care at all!”

She folded her arms, as she usually did, and pouted off to the side.

“You’ll get stronger muscles, at least. Often tsundere types are track champions, though sometimes it’s taken up by another athletic one who is boisterous and has a big chest. But I think you’re safe there, because Haruka has gone the musical genki girl route.”

“Lucky her. I could have done that. Ugh, I hate being so frustrated all the time! I’m masturbating all the time.”

Rika went red. “M-me too.”

“Often as me? I swear I do it once a day at least.”

Rika somehow went redder. “Yes. Once a day. Definitely just that.”

But Mao was too caught up in her own world to care, because at that point she noticed that Kenji was walking their way, also heading to college.

“Heads up! He’s here! Damn it, hide!”

But there was nowhere to hide, and soon Kenji, who had his head in the clouds, noticed they were there. By that point there was no point in stopping or avoiding them; their collective impulse thanks to their new ‘rules’ was to walk to college together.

“Um, hi Rika! Hey Mao! How are both of you today?”

“D-doing well, K-Kenji,” Rika said, brushing her hair behind her ears nervously. “It’s really good to see you.”

Mao elbowed ahead of her. “Hmm, not asking about me specifically, then?”

“Um, I asked about both of you.”

“Oh. Well, I’m doing very well, thank you. I don’t know if you care or not, Kenji, but I just ran three miles straight.”

Kenji was very impressed, and showed it with the beaming smile on his face. “Wow, that’s amazing, Mao! You should be really proud. I heard that you had joined the track team.”

“And the baseball team. And the basketball team. I’ll join more, I reckon, since I’m obviously such a natural at it.”

“I could never imagine the old you doing that!”

She frowned. It was a compliment, but something about it stung. “I can quite anytime I want. So can Rika here!”

“I can?” the other girl asked.

“No.”

“Oh.”
“Anyway, if you’re trying to catch up with us and make your sick fantasies of some perverted harem where we all have sex with you and kiss your nice lips and cuddle and you get to feel my - I mean our - breasts and - shut up!”

Kenji was bewildered. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You were saying it with your dropped jaw and your wide eyes! Stop perving on my breasts!”

She covered her meagre chest, acting affronted at behaviour she was only imagining. “My point is, I won’t be tempted to be around you, or to do anything with you, because I’ll be a star track runner and leading sportswoman. And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Kenji looked a bit wounded, which in turn made her feel a bit secretly wounded.

“That’s really good though, Mao. I don’t want for you to end up how, uh, the universe is trying to make us end up. I’d feel really guilty if that happened, especially against your will! I told you the truth when we first landed here; this was all a total accident on my part, and I’ve been trying this whole time to find a way back. But there’s nothing in the library or online I can find that matches any description of the creator we met, or how to avoid isekai rules.”

“Isekai?”

“Um, stories where you’re reborn into another world. The kind I like where you end up with a sexy harem.”

She sneered. “You aren’t ending up with a sexy harem. I’ll be out on the field, too busy to notice you, and for you to notice me.”

It was then that she noticed an odd expression passed between Rika and Kenji. The nervous pair were hiding something.

“What is it?” she demanded. She practically picked them both up by their collars, her head becoming briefly huge as she barked at them. Another anime trope that quickly dispelled. Rika answered, looking utterly ashamed.

“Well, I did invite Kenji to come watch our basketball game tomorrow night.”

“You did what?”

“I couldn’t help it! It seemed to be the right thing to do. And . . . the baseball game on Wednesday. And to encourage us on our track run practice on Thursday.”

Mao groaned. “And you turned this down, right Kenji?”

This time he looked ashamed. “Um, the compulsions were pretty strong to follow it, actually. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! But it’s going to be hard to avoid it! The others are all coming too, and it just seemed so right, and - and -”

Mao sagged. “Baka and Bèndàn! Fine! Come along if you must! See if I care!”

But she did care. She cursed herself for it as she continued her run to the college, but she cared very much. The idea of Kenji cheering her on filled her with warmth. She really wished she could just smoke some weed and get rid of the butterflies that thought put in her stomach. Otherwise, she might soon be high on Kenji’s presence alone.

***

Mao dribbled the ball with expert precision. Clearly, he new tsundere self was made for this. The rival team were similarly gorgeous girls, some of them with impressive heights and busts or both, all of which made her madly jealous. She had neither, but she did have muscles, and the fitness regime was paying off already. She danced around the court, easily keeping the ball from their reaches. At one point she literally growled at an opponent, who tipped backwards out of fear. In classic dramatic fashion the game was down to a single point, and it was all up to her. She got within the three point line as the rival team surrounded her. Rika was useless, being knocked around left and right and barely contributing anything.

“Baka!” she shouted. “Help me out!”

But the timid girl was no use. Mao looked around for relief and found none. That was, until her eyes settled on the crowd. Tomoko was there, seated by herself, spilling her nuts everywhere and pulling her purple hair over the tension of the game. Haruka was a dancing cheerleader - when had that happened? - her large breasts bouncing all over the place in her scantily clad uniform. Alicia was in the centre of her cluster of high-fashion girls, lording over them as the haughtiest of them all. But Kenji himself was on his own, clapping and cheering and calling Mao’s name through the raucous noise of the crowd.

“You can do it, Mao! Take the shot! I believe in you!”

It was all in slow-motion. Literally. Time had actually slowed so she could take this all in, like some cheesy montage. Mao’s heart fluttered, her icy demeanour breaking. To hear this kind, wonderful man cheering her on, even as the rest of the crowd was filled with anger or despair or fear that she would fail, it made her feel like she could move mountains. She jumped, shooting the ball right from the three point line.

It sunk seamlessly into the net.

For a moment, silence, and then the bell rang. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause: her team had won. She had won. And it was all thanks to those simple words from Kenji. His belief in her had actually gotten her to power through.

“God, this is corny,” she mumbled to herself as her team lifted her up and Haruka danced about with her fellow cheerleaders. “I have to stay strong!”

***

It was hard to stay strong though, when Kenji kept appearing at her games and her practices to cheer her on. She kept trying to tell him to stop showing up, only for her instincts to overpower her, at which point she’d just say something dismissive yet deniable like, “Fine, come to the next game! I won’t look your way though!” or “You better be there to cheer me on, just don’t expect me to acknowledge you as anything other than an acquaintance, or at best a friend, got it?”

And each time, a little part of herself winced at saying this. Not only did it still feel a bit weird to be so rude, but she wanted him present. His encouragement always allowed her to push through and win, and not in a metaphorical way either. She literally became stronger and faster and more capable thanks to his cheers, and always at the most narratively dramatic moments, in keeping with this world and its weird rules. Afterwards, he always did his best to encourage her; the damn moron had gotten so good at social interaction lately! Well, kinda; just like any harem anime male protagonist, he still seized up when talking to girls or trying to appease them. Especially since they were all wary of ending up going any further.

Still, after two weeks of being a woman, Mao was becoming increasingly frustrated by her inability to keep him out of her head. She was still pleasuring her new female form to the thought of him, and it had gotten to the point where she had to move to a single dorm just so her regular roommate could still live there. Her increased athleticism also meant that she was wearing more showy clothing: sports bras and yoga pants when working out, or cute and tight shorts and crop tops when going on runs. And, while it revealed a lot less, her baseball outfit made her look incredibly cute, little hat and all.

“Ugh,” she complained to herself more than once after she had to remove herself from Kenji’s presence after a game. “Why can’t I be exchanged back to this world’s China already? Because I swear it feels like something is gonna happen! Gāisǐ de!”

She wasn’t wrong, because things were coming to a head. First, Rika quit the sports teams and the track events. Mao shouted at her, but was able to summon enough of the old Mark within her to settle down and understand why; the lithe girl wasn’t exactly sports material, and instead had joined the chess club and the book club. Stereotypical. Second, she had begun noticing the other girls hanging out with Kenji, despite their shared plans to ignore him. It angered her; she’d been doing so well! And with that anger came a certain jealousy, especially when she actually saw the blonde-haired Alicia fix up Kenji’s hair and even gift him a more stylish pair of glasses.

“That slut! How dare she touch my Kenji! I mean, our Kenji! Uh, whatever! I’ll show her! I’ll show them all!”

And she did, in a far more extreme way than she imagined, after a track field event.

***

“You can do it, Mao! I believe in you! You’re number one! You’re number one! Keep going, just keep on going! I know you can win this!”

Her mind clung to the echo of Kenji’s sweet voice from the bleachers even as her body threatened to give out. Her legs were shorter than her competition’s, and she clearly was not as powerful in the thighs as some of them. Her old self would have walked any track race, but with the crowd cheering this official college event, she knew she had to push herself. And it was Kenji’s words, as always, that got her to that point. Droplets of sweat beaded down her temple, and soon her legs were moving so fast that they became cartoonish blurs. Racing lines, like from a cheap animated flick, flickered all around her.

“I. Can. Do. This. I’ll. Do. It. For. Him. I. Won’t. Let. Him. See. Me. Fail! I CARE TOO MUCH ABOUT HIM TO LET HIM SEE ME THAT WAY!”

The words burst from her burning lungs, and she managed to just - just - overtake her competitor, a proud athlete named Suzuki. The commentators went wild as they announced her surprise win, and she collapsed not long after making it past the finish line.

Fittingly, Kenji leapt over the audience barrier and raced to her side, helping her to her feet with a heroic effort. She clung to him, even when she was able to stand on her own.

“I did it,” she said.

“You did. It was amazing! I can’t believe how fast you went. It was crazy!”

She smirked despite herself. “Just like one of those moments in your manga, huh?”

“Exactly like that!” he said, his voice ecstatic. “I won’t lie, it was like a real life dream come true, seeing it all unfold. You were so amazing, and you pulled ahead of Suzuki at just that last second. I mean, wow! I can barely believe it! I know you didn’t want to end up like this, and I really can’t apologise enough, but I hope you know how inspiring it was to see you perform like that. I was utterly mesmerised!”

She was mesmerised too, only for her it was by his words, his voice, and his own enthusiasm. It made her blush a little, and she had to look away and pretend to pout. The burn in her muscles was starting to fade, as was the cheer of the crowd. And Kenji’s hand had slipped to around her waist as he helped her walk. They both seemed to realise at the same time, because she pulled away and he jumped back, throwing up his hands in apology as they reached the bleachers.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to touch you like that. It’s just - you seemed like you needed help, and I wanted to help you, and -”

“I still need help, idiot! Put your hand back around my waist already! Ugh!”

She grabbed his hand and put it there, forcing him to keep marching her back to the change rooms. She didn’t need his help. In fact, she had recovered perfectly. But it just felt so very nice to have him against her, his side against her right breast, her hip swaying against his, his hand clutching her. It made her horny body flare up with arousal, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning as a number of very sinful thoughts entered her mind. Kenji seemed to notice as they descended the stairs down to the change rooms.

“Um, is everything okay? Are you going to be alright in there?” he asked, gesturing to the female change rooms.

She wasn’t. Mao recognised the problem straight away. She didn’t want to change out of her clothes unless Kenji was there to appreciate it. She’d seen how Rika looked at him, and Alicia too at points. Tomoko was getting all flustered from the stands before, the former professor now attracted to her former student. Even Haruka was cheering as much for Kenji as for the runners on the field. It made her see them all as competition.

And to the new Mao, life was a competition.

“Of course I’ll be fine!” she snapped. “Now hurry up and come with me! We have something we have to do!”

She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him not to the changerooms, but instead to the utility closet nearby. Kenji was flustered by this.

“What - where are you taking me? What are we doing?”

“Shut up and don’t judge me! This is just because of my body’s needs, okay? It isn’t about you or your big beautiful eyes, got it?”

She pushed him into the unrealistically spacious closet (another trope of this new world) and pressed him against the back shelf. She turned on the light, shut the door, and instantly pulled off her top, revealing her bra to him.

“Oh my God,” Kenji said, and again when she began pulling off her sports shorts. This was a dream come true to him, and his cock became almost immediately, filling him with shame. “Mao, what are you doing? I thought that-”

“Shush!” she commanded, and he silenced himself immediately. “I told you, my body wants this. I see how the others look at you. They’re not winning any races any time soon! Now hurry up and help me get this bra off so you can suck my nipples while I play with you already. This Chinese exchange student hasn’t got all day!”

She was all over him in seconds, kissing his face aggressively and then making him shove his face into her A-cup chest. She wished they were bigger, but when he sucked her nipples her cares all melted away. It made her wetter than she’d ever been, and so she shoved him back into a chair.

“Take off your shorts, slacker! Gǎnkuài! Are all you Japanese boys so slow?”

Kenji was both terrified and turned on. He removed his pants, revealing a dick that was not only very hard but surprisingly impressive in its girth and length. Mao was briefly stunned by it, her nose bleeding for a moment.

“Um, it’s my first time,” Kenji said, smiling sheepishly.

Mao grinned, regaining herself. “Good. Because that means I win.”

She lowered herself on him, and the two gasped as he entered her. From there, they continued to moan together as she rode him, up and down. The sensation was better than any masturbation for Mao, and Kenji was of the same opinion. He was actually being mounted by a crazy tsundere girlfriend and loving every moment of it. He couldn’t stop himself now if he tried, and neither could she. Their rhythm increased in speed, his cock sliding deep within her tight, wet passage. She gasped in ever higher tones, raising her gaze to the ceiling as she fucked him. She knew she should stop herself, but Mark had never had a particularly strong will, and ironically it was his resigned personality features that came to the fore now, allowing the new woman to simply enjoy fucking this adorable hunk’s brains out.

“Yesss,” she cried. “I’m close! I’m so close! Hurry up and cum in me, already! Don’t be lazy, I want you to c-cum inside meeeeeee!!!”

“Oh God, this is amazing! You’re so amazing, Mao!”

“I kn-know! Now h-hurry up!”

It didn’t take him long. He came, and she came with him. His cock spurted stream after stream of seed into him, and she could only quiver against his form, delighting in it.

“You’re soooooo gooood,” she breathed in his ear, even as remained hard in her. It was only after a longer period that she managed to disentangle herself from him, and her male disgust and tsundere frustration returned at once.

She slapped him across the face.

“Don’t expect that to ever happen again, okay? That was just a one time thing!”

She pulled up her shorts and put on her clothing and walked out without another word. But deep down, she knew she’d told a lie. She wanted that again already, and would contrive any excuse to cause it again. It was better than any drug-induced high.

Kenji, in the meantime, just remained sitting in his chair, unbelieving what had just happened, but not regretting it for a moment.

“That,” he said, “was awesome.”

To Be Continued . . .