The Hardest NOPE

Okay, fuck this. Fuck this right in the ear. You know what's going on here. This is some sort of crazy mix'm up anime type bullshit, right? You're being punished for your attempts to be employed by being shoved ass over tea kettle into some rando-if-smoking hot futanari and made to go through some for real nonsense all while belaboring under the impression that you're working for a knockoff fetish Medieval Times. As if the big fat tits and goddamn vagina wouldn't be clues. It's like Fate doesn't think you've ever heard of Isekai before. Well Fuck Off, Fate; you've read enough light novels to know that if you don't get this shit under control quick, you and your brand new pussy are going to win a one-way ticket to Tentaclesville or some shit.

So let's throw some clothes on and then just fucking cheese it. You throw open doors to what is apparently your huge, repulsively pink and glittery wardrobe and are beyond relived to find it stocked with tunics, breeches, and other manner of explicitly not-cupcake dress clothing. You breathe out a prayer of appreciation as you grab a shirt at random; at the very least you found yourself in the shoes of one straight up cool-ass lady. Hell, you're saving her-you as much as you're saving you...you. Fuck, this is confusing; don't let yourself get sucked into it. You pull the tunic over your head and can't contain your shudder as the thin fabric slides across the smooth skin of your apparently very sensitive breasts. Your nipples stiffen and you have to let out a hiss of breath as you settle into what you now realize is a snug as hell shirt. The material is a little loose around your toned stomach but only because your big boobs distend the chest so much. And even a blind man wouldn't miss how low cut it is. Plump, tanned flesh wobbles ponderously before you, with a long line of exceptionally deep cleavage and your fat nipples clearly on display through the thin fabric. This girl might not have been girlie, but fuck if she didn't like showing off what she had.

And that does include everything she had, you discover as you hurriedly pull on a pair of breeches. Your pertly bubbly but and rounded hips are on full display, sure, but there's also the matter of the roomy pouch that's sewn into the groin. You stuff your absurd ladydick into it as if on autopilot before belting together the whole affair, creating a look that might be best described as That's a Big Codpiece Whoa Wait A Second. You really want to check yourself out in the mirror, but the way that your overfilled cock pouch twitches whenever you sneak a peak at your perfect decolletage leads you to believe that doing so much hamper your desires for hasty action. Okay, let's keep moving.

You throw on a cloak, wriggle into your mudstained boots and after a moment's hesitation snag your sword. You have no idea if this is the sort of game where you'll need it, but no reason to assume it isn't. And besides, it completes your Busty Link cosplay. You take a final glance around the room, give yourself a nod, and then throw open the door to find yourself face to face with what can only be a Prince caught in the beginning of an attempted knock. Probably your Prince, fuck.

Yeah, this guy is a goddamn Prince all the way to the ground, there's no bones about it. Thick auburn ringlets frame a smolderingly handsome face, more Lord Byron than Prince Charming. He's tall, but so are you, and you note with a bit of an internal smirk he's ever so slightly below your eye level. The smile he gives as he finishes blinking his light grey eyes in surprise is very white indeed, and he exposes nearly as much chest as you do, though his is significantly hairier and flatter. His voice is buttery and deep, you guess, and he is certainly prattling on and on, though you aren't listening very closely. Having taken stock of the man that Fate almost certainly assumes you're going to offer your genitals to, you square your feet and prepare to bullrush right past him.

"_blahblahblah_and I thought I join you for a bit of breakfast?"

You pause at that, just as your stomach lets out an almost cartoonish growl. You don't have any food, and apparently haven't eaten. You're realizing you don't have any money either, and don't even know what is money here. You squint a wary eye at the dumdum in front of you, increasingly hating his stupid guileless smile, then give a curt nod. You'll stick around for breakfast. Then you're deffo going to push this fucker into some mud and beat feet.