Maybe I could be in one of those reverse harem Isekai, yeah? You think…

You feel an odd lurch of derailment or whatever it is.

“Let’s see how long it takes before it looks again.”

You blink hard, head spinning like you just woke up from the world’s worst hangover. The air smells of old stone, polished wood, and something sharp… maybe ozone or burnt herbs.

Again… Your body feels… wrong. Small. Top heavy. Breasts that are way too big for your frame shift heavily when you move, straining against a tight black laced corset that’s definitely not yours. Well not until now!?

Yeah, your hips feel wider, your rounded ass plush against the hard wooden chair you’re sitting in. Legs short, thighs soft. You’re petite, maybe 5’1” at most. Silver white hair falls across your vision and you brush it aside with a small pail hand that has black-painted nails. You have pretty painted nails. You must be some kind of goth…

Weird thing is you’re only half in control of your body. A voice, your new voice apparently, smoother and colder than you like is just finishing a sentence, the words rolling unbidden off your tongue.

“…All that is strong and proud shall shrink, soften, and serve.” You frown. “Huh. What did I just say…?” You muse.

The words hang in the air, quivering with a power that flows out of you and into the room. You didn’t mean to say anything. The words just came out.

The room? Well, you’re in some kind of old lecture hall or assembly room inside a big stone building. A grand high ceiling, tall narrow windows letting in bleak gray daylight, long oak tables shoved aside, chairs scattered.

It looks someone had a fight in a fancy boarding school or academy, a place that’s trying hard to look medieval. Banners on the walls show fancy crests you don’t recognise. The floor is worn flagstone.

And five big guys in mismatched fantasy-style gear, you know chainmail hauberks, leather armour, tabards, boots, swords and staves all aimed menacingly at you! And they’re suddenly dropping to their knees like they’ve been punched in the gut. Like they’ve just been hit by the power flowing out of you. Well not like. Actually flowing out of you. You just cast a spell on them.

“Oh shit, sorry guys, that wasn’t me. That was her…” you explain. They groan. One clutches his chest. Another’s voice cracks high as he tries to shout. “Oh shit, you guys ok? You need a doctor?!”

“You mock them? You… you… harlot!” In front of them, maybe ten feet away, stands a tall woman, maybe 5’10”? She has long black hair and wears simple white robes over practical trousers and boots. She looks pissed and scared at the same time, fists clenched, eyes wide on you.

“Woah there princess! That’s not a nice thing to call… me…” you say nervously. “I mean harlot?!”

The tall woman in white spits, “Vespa you sorceress slut! You cursed them! You cursed my companions!”

“I did?” You frown. The magic is affecting her as well. Something is flowing from the five men into her.

Vespa? Yeah, that name feels like it belongs to this body. Not you. But definitely this witch you’ve displaced. They are staring at you like you’re the devil herself.

You glance down at yourself again. Black corset, dark skirt that’s a bit too short, heavy breasts rising and falling fast with your breathing. Your heart is hammering.

And then of course your new pussy twitches involuntarily. Them. Those fuckers. They keep on doing this to you!

And then, of course, the transformation magic start hitting the guys visibly now, slow changes that make them gasp and whimper.