43. Remaining Myself, I Become Someone Other Than Myself

Author: Kiki
Raw: https://novel18.syosetu.com/n2498fn/46/
Translator: Lilia v4
Editor: Yuriko AYA

Kishiri found that she had been asleep on the bed.
When she woke, the view beyond the window was already dyed madder-red.
It had been morning only a little while ago—too long for a nap.

“Good morning, Kishiri.”

Lalilalai was lying beside her.
Kishiri’s small body fit neatly in the woman’s arms, wrapped through and through in that warmth.

(I … I went back to my own room. Why is Lalilalai— No … that’s wrong. This is … her room. I—that’s right. After I left Lily, I came here …)
“My. Still half asleep? You insisted, you know. I have been lying here without laying a hand on you.”
“… Sorry. Lalilalai.”
“It’s all right. I was able to watch a very dear sleeping face.”

Apparently the sleeping face had been thoroughly observed.
Together with being called “dear,” it made her unaccountably ashamed; Kishiri buried her face in the woman’s chest.
Then her head was pulled into a tight embrace, and a violent mass of flesh surrounded her face.

“Mmgh …”
“Fufufu. An honest Kishiri is truly lovely. And you, too, are far happier this way, are you not?”
“…?”

She did not understand what Lalilalai was saying.
When Kishiri looked up from the woman’s chest, Lalilalai narrowed her eyes, loosened her arms with a rapt expression, and—
A wet crush.
A sound in the brain.
Kishiri understood, by instinct, that a kiss was being asked for, and brought her face closer.
What followed she registered only as a courtship gesture she knew by theory. There was no sensation. No taste. Lalilalai looked pleased, and that, for Kishiri, was enough.

“And you will still say you feel nothing? How very sad.”
“I don’t mind … If Lalilalai feels well, that’s enough.”
“How devoted. Ah, that is why I lament. Why a person as self-sacrificing as you cannot be happy.”

Lalilalai pitied her, and stroked her head.
A wet sound.
Then the viscous noise sounded again in Kishiri’s brain, and she—returned to her right mind.

“—?! Wh-what … why am I here … and just now … that—…”

The feel of Lalilalai remaining in her mouth.
Kishiri covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head again and again.

“I discussed it with Mama. What ought to be done. As you are, charm will not take properly, and to leave the insensibility untreated would be far too pitiful.”
“What … are you going to do?”
“I will rebuild your body to my preference.”

Lalilalai’s mouth hooked up.
That was madness. It was in no sense love.
Kishiri shoved the woman’s body away, and by spring of the body alone leapt from the bed and landed on the floor.

“You cannot run. Not as you are now.”

Biting her tongue and dying would be best, but again the body would not move as she wished.
First, attempt escape from this room.
Lalilalai came down from the bed at a leisurely, unhurried pace.
In that interval, Kishiri neared the door.
She tried to turn the knob—and at a wet sound, the strength went out of her hand.

(That again. Is my body already under their control?)

It was not a question of difference in strength. The body moved on its own, unrelated to her will.
She could no longer even choose death.
And now—look. When she saw Lalilalai smiling before her, the brain whispered.
Beautiful. Pretty. Wonderful. I love you. I want to throw myself into that chest. I want to become one with her too.
Before she knew it, her body had begun walking toward the woman of its own accord.
No urge to resist even rose.
She advanced unsteadily, like an undead thing, and tumbled into that chest.
Lalilalai took Kishiri’s cheeks in both hands and turned her face up.

Kishiri understood she was being asked for again. The understanding made her so glad she did not close her mouth.

Then Lalilalai poured “shadows” into her.

Kishiri, her brain fully governed, received what was poured with open willingness, and took it down herself.
Once it reached the stomach, it stirred strangely, and soaked, little by little, through the whole frame.

Even afterward, Kishiri’s gaze stayed wet, fixed on the person she loved.

“Do you understand what I just did?”
“Something like … what was in my head … going through … my whole body …”
“Precisely. I remade the brain last night, so today I thought we might remake the body, that the two of us might feel well together.”

They sat on the bed as they spoke, and then only Kishiri lay down.
No thought of flight remained at all.

“A body so thin and slight it fits entirely in one’s arms has its charms, but I do prefer a woman to have flesh.”

So saying, Lalilalai set a hand on Kishiri’s bare foot.
Then, from the toes through the calves, something began to swell as if pushing out from within.
Kishiri gripped the bedding, enduring a crawling, sweet, uncanny sensation, and seemed to be holding back sound.
Meanwhile the deformation of the legs advanced.
Little by little, so as not to burden the body too far, the calves filled out, and legs that had been so slender they looked ready to snap changed into parts with a woman’s weight of flesh.
Because the rest of the transformation was unfinished, they looked badly unbalanced against the thighs.

“Now. How does that feel?”

Lalilalai reached for a calf and let her fingertips sink into the skin—

“Hyah—?!”

Kishiri made a small sound.

“Was that just now … perhaps …”
“Yes. I remade the sensation, reconnected it, and woke it. It felt very good, did it not?”

To that question Kishiri, looking down as if ashamed, nodded without a word.

“Then let us go a little higher.”

Lalilalai’s fingertips climbed the line of the leg and touched the thigh through cloth.
A thud.
Then the deformation began.
Perhaps because it was closer to the brain than before, the crawling sensation was larger, and clearer.

“Ah … nh.”

Kishiri, too, could not bear it; sound leaked from her.
Even so she endured, and Lalilalai watched her with a look of deep fondness.
The deformation proceeded.
The thighs swelled from within, and changed into ample flesh that invited the hand.

“Nnfufufu. You are becoming a most attractive body, Kishiri.”
“Fuaah—! Ah, au … nnh …”

When Lalilalai’s hand worked the thigh, a sweet sound escaped Kishiri.
The first sensation in her life of being touched by another was, for a girl who in this state loved Lalilalai from the bottom of her heart, a little too strong.
A wet crush.
The consciousness switched.
Wanting to see an honest reaction, Lalilalai, unkindly, returned her to her right mind.
And went on working the thigh as before.

“Hiu— uhh … no … my body—…”
“What is the matter, Kishiri? A moment ago you were sounding so pleased.”
“That’s not— that’s not— just now was … that was—!”

A wet crush.
The switch in the brain flipped again, and Kishiri’s eyes went slack and melting.

“Nnah, ahn … Lalilalai, it feels so good … more, I want you to touch me more—”
“Fufufufu.”

Lalilalai’s fingertips were set, this time, against the abdomen.
A tight stomach, with muscle standing out, went to a slightly looser shape from which flesh could be pinched.
Arms as thin as twigs went to a state of shaking flesh one would want, unthinkingly, to take in the hands.
And then—

“Ah, aah, a, ahi … hiuuuh …!”
“My. Because it is near the heart, perhaps the burden is large. But only a little more. Hold on, Kishiri!”
“Nnah— aaaaaah!”

A modest chest became a fullness badly mismatched to a youthful frame.
Each part was remodeled as Lalilalai pleased.
Seeing the body, now rounded overall, Lalilalai could no longer restrain herself; she covered Kishiri and held her.
It was plainly not the feel of the slight girl from a little while ago. An ideal body, one she could have held forever, was there.
Kishiri put her arms around Lalilalai’s back as well, and pressed her changed body against the other as if proud of it.

In that state she said that mere contact was enough to overwhelm her, and asked for the finishing work at once.

Lalilalai set a hand to Kishiri’s cheek.
Shadows stirred inside the face, and again realized Lalilalai’s ideal.
This time there was no change in appearance.
But the sense of smell had been made able to pick up Lalilalai’s and Ashera’s scents more keenly, and the mouth far more sensitive than an ordinary human’s.

Only then, on a kiss that was the third that day, did Kishiri first know the pleasure of it: a unity so complete one could mistake it for mixing and becoming one. She took in scent and taste desperately, and made herself absorb them.

(I love you, I love you— Lalilalai— Why was I refusing something this wonderful …!)

A wet crush.
Then Lalilalai’s mischief cruelly woke her right mind.
Again.

(No, no—! Why … I don’t want this. It’s disgusting, and it feels good. I don’t want—…!)

But this time it was a little different.
Kishiri’s arms stayed locked hard around Lalilalai’s back, with no sign of letting go.
With the body’s excitement at its peak, recovering reason now was not enough to resist.
The head understood that it was wrong. The body wanted it.

What followed continued until the bottomless desire of Lalilalai, who had become a Demi-Vamp, was spent.
Toward the end, Kishiri was only limp, and being used. Even so, the memory carved into her body would not vanish.

And yet—however much the shape was changed, the resistance to magic laid upon Kishiri’s body had not disappeared.
Charm had still made no progress at all.
If she could only have fallen sooner, she might have been at ease.
Still unable to lose her right mind, she would go on being handled by the two of them—