I leaned back on the comfortable couch in the common area of the dorm, feeling the gentle hum of conversations and laughter around me. The setting sun cast a warm glow through the large windows, casting elongated shadows and painting the room in hues of gold and orange. It was moments like these that made U.A. University feel like home.
As I was flipping through a textbook, trying to make sense of the latest lecture on hero ethics, I felt a presence beside me. I looked up to see Toru Hagakure, her faint outline shimmering in the evening light. Even though she was invisible, I could always sense her bright and lively energy.
"Hey, Midoriya!" she greeted, her voice cheerful and light-hearted. "What are you up to?"
"Just catching up on some reading," I replied, closing the book. "How about you?"
She giggled, the sound like a gentle bell. "Oh, you know, just hanging out. Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all," I said, smiling. "It's always nice to have company."
We chatted casually, our conversation flowing effortlessly. Toru had a way of making even the most mundane topics seem fascinating. She began to flirt a little, her tone playful and teasing. I could feel my cheeks warming, but her charm was infectious, and I found myself laughing more than usual.
After a few minutes, the door to the common area opened, and Neito Monoma walked in. His usual confident stride seemed even more pronounced this evening. Toru glanced at him and gave him a weird hand sign with her glove. I found it odd but didn't think much of it. I turned to wave at Neito, who returned the gesture with a smirk before continuing on his way.
"So, Midoriya," Toru continued, her voice drawing my attention back to her, "have you ever thought about what you'd do if you had a different quirk?"
Before I could answer, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. The touch was unexpected, and I turned my head, only to see Neito standing right behind me, his grin widening.
The moment Neito's hand touched my shoulder, an intense, unfamiliar sensation shot through my body. It started as a faint tingling, like pins and needles spreading from the point of contact and quickly escalating into a full-body shiver. I tried to pull away, to shake off his grip, but my muscles wouldn't respond. My vision blurred, and a strange, ethereal glow enveloped me.
As the transformation began, I felt my body twisting and contorting in ways that defied logic. My bones seemed to liquefy, my skin stretching and shifting. It was as if I were being pulled apart and reassembled at the same time. The sensation was both painful and numbing, a paradox that left me disoriented and helpless.
My perspective warped, and I felt myself flattening, my limbs merging into a single, seamless form. I could no longer feel my arms or legs, no longer sense the ground beneath my feet. My head spun, the room around me dissolving into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. The glow intensified, wrapping around me like a cocoon, squeezing tighter and tighter until I thought I might implode.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the transformation stopped. The world came back into focus, but everything was different. My vision was fixed, locked in place, and I could no longer move or speak. Panic surged through me as I realized I couldn't even blink. I tried to scream, but no sound came out.
The first thing I noticed was Toru's voice, now booming as if amplified. "Thanks, Neito. Here's the money I promised you. Pleasure doing business with you."
What had just happened? I tried to piece it together, but my thoughts were a jumbled mess. I felt myself being lifted, the motion smooth and unsettling. Toru's giggle echoed in my ears, and I wanted to cry out, to ask what she had done to me.
"Hi, Midoriya. A little confused? That's okay, I'll show you," she said, her tone almost mocking.
I felt myself being turned, and my vision suddenly filled with the image of a mirror. What I saw made my heart pound in my chest—or at least, it would have if I still had a heart. Toru held a green-colored bra, and after a moment of sheer disbelief, I realized the horrifying truth. I was the bra.
If I could have widened my eyes, I would have. Instead, I was trapped, my vision fixed on the reflection of Toru's invisible form holding me up. The bra's cups were now my eyes, and the straps and fabric my new body. I was a piece of clothing, an object.
Toru's giggle brought me back to the present. "Neito found a quirk that lets him transform people into objects or clothing. Pretty neat, huh, Izuku?"
I couldn't reply, couldn't even move, but she took my silence as agreement. The reality of my transformation was setting in, a cold, hard fact that left me reeling. As Toru carried me to her room, my vision bounced with her steps, each movement a reminder of my new, helpless state.
She placed me on her bed, the soft fabric beneath me doing little to comfort my spiraling thoughts. As she began to undress, the sight of her invisible form removing her school blazer and bra was surreal. The floating skirt was almost comical, but there was no humor in my situation.
"I'm going to wear you now," she said matter-of-factly, her tone almost cheerful.
"You're a push-up bra, by the way," Toru said, her tone conversational as she picked me up. "I wanted to make my chest look bigger."
The moment Toru secured me around her chest, the sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Her skin was warm against my fabric, every curve and contour of her breasts pressing intimately against me.
I could feel the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, the rhythmic expansion and contraction of her ribcage transmitting through my entire being. Each breath she took was a reminder of my new, inescapable reality.
As she adjusted me to fit more snugly, I felt the full weight of her breasts settling into place. The pressure was significant, a constant, unyielding force that bore down on me from all angles.
It wasn't just a sensation of weight; it was the way that weight shifted and moved with every minor motion she made. When she leaned forward slightly to grab her shirt, the pressure intensified, and I could feel the shift of her breasts against me, a rolling, pressing sensation that was both overwhelming and deeply invasive.
Every step she took made the weight sway slightly, creating a continuous, gentle rocking motion that kept me acutely aware of her presence.
The firmness of her breasts, the way they filled out my form, was a constant, tactile reminder of my predicament. I could feel the slight bounce as she moved, the dynamic interplay of gravity and motion transferring through her body and into me.
The fabric of her shirt sliding over me added another layer of compression, pressing me even tighter against her skin. The combined weight of her breasts and the added pressure of her clothing created an almost suffocating sensation. I was acutely aware of the strain it put on my form, the relentless pressure that made every moment a test of endurance.
As she stood in front of the mirror, making those final adjustments, the sensation of her fingers smoothing out the fabric, tugging and pulling to ensure the perfect fit, was maddening.
Each touch was a reminder of my lack of control, my new role as a mere object in her wardrobe. The way she manipulated me to enhance her appearance, to push up and shape her breasts, felt both degrading and oddly intimate.
As Toru made her way to class, each step sent a tremor through my new form. The weight of her breasts bore down on me, amplified by the snugness of her shirt. My fabric strained under the pressure, and I could feel every shift and sway as she walked. It was a continuous, relentless effort to keep her chest in place, an exercise in endurance that seemed to stretch time itself.
With every step, I felt the bounce and sway of her breasts, the movement creating a constant, jarring pressure that rippled through me. The sensation was overwhelming, a persistent reminder of my transformation. The rhythmic motion was almost hypnotic, a ceaseless up-and-down that left me disoriented and exhausted.
When she finally sat down in class, the relief was short-lived. The sudden change in pressure as her weight shifted caused me to bounce slightly, the sensation both disconcerting and uncomfortable. Her movements, though subtle, were magnified through my fabric, and I felt each adjustment, each shift, with acute clarity.
To make matters worse, the day was hot, and Toru's body began to sweat. The moisture seeped into my fabric, creating a damp, sticky sensation that only added to my discomfort. The heat intensified the pressure, making it harder to maintain my shape and support her properly.
As I struggled with the combined weight and heat, Mina Ashido leaned over to Toru, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Hey, Toru," she whispered, her tone playful. "Your breasts look bigger today. Is that a special bra from Neito?"
Before I could process her words, Mina reached over and gave Toru's breasts a playful squeeze. The pressure was intense, a sudden, sharp squeeze that sent shockwaves through my entire being. The sensation was nothing short of hellish, a jarring mix of pain and discomfort that left me reeling.
"Yeah, it is," Toru replied, her voice casual despite the situation. "Pretty cool, huh?"
Mina giggled, her fingers still pressing into the fabric, unknowingly tormenting me. "Very cool. It's really effective."
I had to endure it, had to reform and maintain my structure despite the relentless pressure and heat. Each moment felt like an eternity, the constant strain testing my limits in ways I had never imagined.
As Mina finally released her grip, the pressure eased, but the residual ache remained. Toru shifted slightly, adjusting her posture, and I felt the familiar weight settle back into place. The sweat continued to soak into my fabric, a constant reminder of the hot, oppressive day.
Through it all, I could do nothing but endure, hoping for an end to this relentless ordeal. The classroom buzzed with activity, but for me, each second was a test of endurance, a struggle to maintain my form and support Toru's breasts amidst the heat and pressure. It was a living nightmare, one I could only hope to survive until I found a way to return to my true self.
The day stretched endlessly, every second an exhausting ordeal. The relentless heat only intensified, and Toru's sweat soaked into my fabric, creating a persistent, damp sensation that clung to me like a second skin. The sharp pain from supporting her breasts dulled into a constant, crushing pressure that numbed my senses.
As the hours wore on, I found it easier to let go of my attachment to my former life. When I stopped thinking about who I was—who I used to be—the pain seemed to recede slightly. A strange clarity emerged, a warped sense of peace: just carry the breasts, don't think about anything else. It was a mantra that brought a twisted sort of relief.
The evening brought a change in setting but not in my strange new reality. Mina's room was a familiar yet alien environment as Toru and Mina began an intimate encounter. They kissed passionately, and between breaths, Mina whispered, "It's so hot that you tricked someone into getting changed."
As Mina's hands roamed over Toru's body, the sensation was overwhelming. Her fingers traced the contours of Toru's breasts, and I could feel every subtle movement through my fabric. Each touch sent a ripple of sensation through me, the pressure shifting and changing as Mina explored.
When Mina's fingers first brushed against me, it was a gentle, almost teasing touch. The warmth of her hands seeped through my fabric, creating a strange, almost electric sensation. She cupped Toru's breasts, and I felt the weight shift, the pressure intensifying as she squeezed. It was both painful and oddly pleasurable, a mix of sensations that left me reeling.
Mina's touch grew bolder, more insistent. She kneaded Toru's breasts, her fingers pressing deeply into the flesh. The pressure was intense, each squeeze sending shockwaves through me. The sensation of her fingers digging into Toru's skin, the subtle movements as she adjusted her grip, was maddening. It was as if I could feel every ridge of her fingerprints, every slight shift in pressure.
The heat of Mina's hands was almost unbearable. It mingled with the residual warmth from Toru's body, creating a stifling, humid environment. I could feel the sweat soaking into me, a constant reminder of the day's oppressive heat. Each touch, each squeeze, seemed to amplify the sensation, making it harder to maintain my focus.
As Mina continued to play with Toru's breasts, I felt a stirring of arousal that conflicted sharply with my circumstances. The sensation was both intoxicating and disturbing. The pleasure was undeniable, a deep, throbbing ache that pulsed through me with each of Mina's movements. It was a bizarre, surreal experience, feeling pleasure from someone else's touch, from the manipulation of someone else's body.
When Mina covered my "eyes" with her hands, the darkness was almost a relief. The pressure of her palms against me, the sensation of being squeezed and manipulated, was overwhelming. I could feel Toru's heartbeat through her chest, a steady, rhythmic thumping that resonated through me. It was a constant reminder of my new existence, of the intimate connection I now shared with her body.
The more Mina played with Toru's breasts, the more I felt myself losing control. The pleasure was building, an insistent, throbbing need that I couldn't ignore. Each squeeze, each knead, sent waves of sensation through me, making it harder to think, harder to remember who I was. The mantra echoed in my mind, a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of control: don't think, just carry the breasts.
But as Mina's hands continued their relentless exploration, I found it increasingly difficult to hold on to that thought. The pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming. It was a deep, primal sensation, a need that went beyond anything I had ever experienced. I could feel my resolve weakening, my sense of self slipping away with each touch.
The atmosphere in Mina's room grew increasingly charged, the air thick with anticipation. As Toru and Mina's kisses deepened, I braced myself for whatever came next. The sensation of Mina's hands playing over Toru's breasts was already overwhelming, each touch sending shockwaves through my fabric.
Suddenly, Mina pulled back and gave Toru a playful grin. "I've got an idea," she said, her voice husky with excitement. Before I could process what she meant, Mina positioned herself in front of Toru, her face level with Toru's chest.
The next moment, Mina buried her face between Toru's breasts, her movements vigorous and uninhibited. The sensation was unlike anything I had experienced before. Mina's cheeks and lips pressed against me, the vibrations from her playful noises reverberating through my entire form. Each nudge, each shift of her face against Toru's skin, created a symphony of pressure and sensation that I could barely comprehend.
Mina's hands reached up, cupping Toru's breasts and squeezing them together, amplifying the intensity of the motorboating. The pressure was immense, a constant, shifting force that pressed and molded me against Toru's chest. My fabric stretched and contracted with each movement, creating a tactile feedback loop that was both painful and oddly pleasurable.
The heat of Mina's breath seeped through me, mingling with the residual warmth of Toru's body. The combined sensations were suffocating, a relentless barrage of touch and pressure that left me reeling. Mina's enthusiastic motions created a rhythm that I was forced to endure, each moment a new assault on my already overloaded senses.
Mina's playful giggles and Toru's soft moans filled the room, creating a cacophony of sound that matched the intensity of the physical sensations. I felt myself being squeezed and released in quick succession, the pressure ebbing and flowing in a way that left me breathless. The experience was disorienting, each new wave of sensation blurring the lines between pleasure and pain.
As Mina continued, I found it increasingly difficult to hold on to my sense of self. The mantra that had been my anchor began to fade, replaced by a raw, primal response to the overwhelming stimuli. Don't think, just carry the breasts. The words echoed faintly in my mind, but their power was diminishing in the face of the relentless onslaught.
The pleasure built to a crescendo, each new touch pushing me closer to the edge. The sensations were too intense, too all-consuming. Mina's vigorous motorboating had turned my world into a chaotic blur of touch and sound, each moment a new test of my endurance.
When Mina finally pulled away, the sudden absence of pressure was almost shocking. The relief was short-lived, the residual sensations still lingering in my fabric. I was left in a daze, my mind struggling to process the intense experience I had just endured.
As Mina and Toru resumed their more tender embraces, I clung to the remnants of my mantra. Don't think, just carry the breasts. The words were a lifeline, a way to ground myself in the midst of the chaos. And for now, that was all I could do.
When Mina finally unclipped me, the sudden release was almost painful. The pressure eased, but the residual ache remained. As she tossed me aside, I landed on the floor, my vision fixed on the bed where Mina straddled the invisible form of my owner. The sight was strangely intimate, and for a moment, I felt a pang of something akin to jealousy.
--
From my position on the floor, my vision fixed on the bed, I watched as Mina lowered one of her hands to Toru's skirt. The anticipation was palpable, every moment stretched out as I tried to comprehend the scene unfolding before me. Mina's hand disappeared beneath the fabric, and a sharp intake of breath from Toru told me everything I needed to know.
Mina's fingers found their mark, entering Toru with a slow, deliberate motion. Toru's gasp was immediate, her body reacting to the intimate intrusion. Mina began to move her hand rhythmically, each motion causing Toru to gasp and moan with increasing intensity. The sound of her pleasure filled the room, a stark contrast to the soft hum of the night outside.
I tried to focus, tried to hold on to my fading sense of self. Don't think, just carry the breasts. But the mantra was slipping, the words losing their meaning. Why would I have a human name? Izuku... That name felt foreign, out of place. It was silly to think I was ever anything but a bra.
I watched as the pink-skinned girl pumped her fingers in my owner, Toru's invisible form writhing in response. Each thrust, each flick of Mina's wrist, drew more moans from Toru, her body reacting with an almost primal intensity. The scene was mesmerizing, and I found myself unable to look away.
My thoughts began to fracture, the reality of my situation settling in. I can't believe my friends would do this to... What friends? I am a bra. Bras aren't friends with humans. The thought echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of my new existence.
The sight of Mina making my owner happy filled me with a strange sense of satisfaction. Oh look, that pink-skinned girl is making my owner happy. That's great. The pleasure in Toru's voice, the way her moans sounded, was a testament to the bond they shared. And I was a part of that, even if in a different way.
As Mina's movements grew more fervent, Toru's moans reached a crescendo. The rhythm of their interaction was a dance of pleasure, each motion, each gasp a reminder of the intimacy they shared. Mina's fingers moved with skill and confidence, drawing out Toru's pleasure with each thrust and caress.
I felt a strange mix of emotions watching them, my sense of self continuing to dissolve.
