Kirumi, Servant of the Hands

Kirumi was supposed to be the Ultimate Maid. It was a role which had many roles and responsibilities, but above all, it was supposed to have two rules:

1. Kirumi anticipated and perfectly fulfilled her master's every desire...

2. ... Unless, of course, that desire was something unbecoming of her role as a respectable maid.

Until three days ago, following those rules had just been a matter of being principled and meticulous. That week, however, Kirumi had met a new master with entirely different service in mind. While it had taken her a while to get used to it, the Ultimate Maid was now earning applause in the performance of previously unforeseen duties.

Cleaning herself regularly was, of course, nothing unusual for the spotless servant. Standing in a shower, feeling the warm water prickling her pale, bare skin, she'd ordinarily be in and out in a matter of minutes. The problem was, on this unusual morning, she was not in charge of cleaning herself. Instead, as she lathered up shampoo and worked on her hair, the pair of floating gloves that had taken her as their plaything were giving her a hand. Or two.

When she'd made the careless promise to serve the two of them, Kirumi now realized she'd made a big mistake. Before that point, she was probably first in line of a succession of playthings for the villainous garments. If only she'd let out some other cry of defeat! If only she hadn't given them the idea! Now she was subject to the constant humiliation and torture of--

"Mmmmff!!" Kirumi suddenly shouted. She wanted to cover her mouth or bite her finger, but her hands were occupied in her hair. She could just barely stifle a moan by biting her lip as the two gloves started working on her from opposite ends: one relentlessly kneading her right breast, the other shamelessly groping her buttcheeks as the foreplay to, inevitably, moving onto her holes. At first, this kind of rough play had been inconceivable. For the past week, she had been getting more and more used to it--

"No!" Kirumi would not admit that to herself. There was no part of her that was getting used to this. Was there? Compared to when this first started, the feeling of hot shame was still the same, the indignity of allowing her body to be toyed with by a master that seemed to want nothing more from her than her body and her dignity. That said... The overall sensation was different.

Was it coming from the gloves? Kirumi was aware they were growing more powerful. To verify that, she only had to watch. During her earlier stage prep of shame, the gloves had demonstrated the ability to float and impressive strength. That was quite enough, in her opinion. Now, however, as they played with her body, she was aware that they were shrinking against her curves. It wasn't that they were getting smaller. Her own body was often growing where they touched it. It had been subtle at first, worryingly like sore swelling. But now, when the two of them worked in tandem...

"Kyaa!!" she couldn't help but scream as the two of them worked together, slapping her buttocks playfully as if beating a drum.

... It produced the effect of making her already eye-catching curves press out further. Her porcelain-white posterior stung from spank marks which, to her mind, served as brands, and it had blimped out to proportions some of her more uncouth classmates might call a "dumptruck." The gloves might have chosen her because she was both proud and curvy, but that didn't mean they would settle for it. With every slap, they tore away at her pride, and in their hands, she was molded into their idea of a perfect servant: one with a plump, round ass perfect for sinking one's fingers into. Then, when the wet slaps of her own flesh finally stopped and they'd left her breathless (just as she had begun to pant and mewl in this very shower), they'd let off. Eventually, she'd shrink back to her normal, slender self.

Days into this, Kirumi had found herself wondering why the gloves didn't simply get bored of her and move on. She'd already been defeated. What more was there for them to enjoy? Her private pleasure-- "Suffering," she rebuked herself sharply-- seemed to be all they cared for. The first day had been rough, full of secret tugs and teasing all throughout, enough to actually leave her sore. By the second day, however, she had learned to tolerate the intolerable. And here, on the third, it had begun to feel...

... Not so bad.

---

This, Kirumi reminded herself, was because she had taken it upon herself to protect her fellow classmates. These gloves had uncommon strength and held shape with no actual hands inside, evident by how they'd taken to traveling with her. Even if she warned someone about the threat, who could say if they'd actually be able to do anything? No, if she could be the sole sacrifice for the gloves' mischief, wearing them on her own fingers, that was how she would serve the student body.

To her relief, the gloves seemed to have no interest in humiliating her where others would be able to witness. Were they holding onto it as a threat? She couldn't deny that sitting with the other students in homeroom with her hands able to betray her at any time, to start making rude gestures, pinching her, or rubbing her, made her feel like--

-- a secret pervert--

-- a prisoner. Still, it was surprising to see how the gloves were essentially letting her go about her regular day-to-day business, even taking requests as she ordinarily would. Today, she would have the pleasure of listening to the in-progress work of her friend Kaede Akamatsu, the Ultimate Pianist, and offering advice. To be able to provide constructive pointers even to other Ultimates on their talent was the responsibility and pleasure of a perfect maid.

"... What a pleasure," Kirumi thought to herself, the briefest distraction she allowed herself while otherwise focusing totally on the music. Kaede was a recognized player, but as a composer, she was still green. Still, Kirumi felt her rough work was already a delight to her ears, putting her troubled mind at peace. The music room felt like an oasis in the storm of mischievous hands.

As for the blonde-headed pianist herself, Kaede seemed totally engrossed in her playing. With her eyes on the score she'd prepared for herself, her delicate fingers on the keys, and her shapely skirt-clad bottom seated on the bench, her appearance was almost as heavenly as her music. Kirumi couldn't help but think she looked angelic... and totally defenseless...

With a sudden shock, Kirumi realized her fingers were cartoonishly wiggling in anticipation. The gloves were trying to pull her forward.

This was what she had feared! "N-no...! Target me alone!" Kirumi begged the gloves in a hoarse whisper as she felt herself dragged by her own wrists, failing to find purchase with her heels.

Before she knew it, Kirumi was standing right behind the unaware Kaede, close enough to touch her. Then, she actually was touching her, feeling the weave of Kaede's signature pink sweatervest at the shoulders.

The pianist jumped, although she kept her fingers on the keys. "Kirumi? What's up?"

The maid searched for what her next words should be. She should warn Kaede about what was happening, shouldn't she? But instead, she found her brain searching for some feeble excuse to explain the behavior as if it was her own. She noticed her right hand rolling impatiently, a gesture that said "get on with it." For both her own protection and Kaede's she blurted out the first thing that came to her. "... My apologies. You appeared to be somewhat stiff. When I served a master pianist in France, I solved their performance fatigue by implementing this massage technique. I'm sure you'll find it, er... relaxing." Her own face grew red as she spoke, thinking how preposterous the lie sounded.

Kaede seemed to watch the hand rolling, a smile beginning to form on her face. "Hmm... it's not bad. Well, I've tried to play while getting a massage before, so let's try it. As long as it isn't too disruptive, of course!"

... Was Kaede really such a trusting soul? Kirumi had suspected she might be something of a busty blonde bimbo--

-- "?!" Kirumi couldn't believe the thought that had just passed through her head. Had she ever thought of a master that way? Even if she was being so uncharitable, "airhead" would have been a proper word, wouldn't it?

Yet, as Kaede continued to play her piece, Kirumi couldn't help but loom over her seated friend, her one visible eye glaring down at Kaede's impressive chest from worm's eye view. Kirumi gulped, leaning forward so she could see it even better... Now, her own chest was pressed to the back of Kaede's head, and her chin was resting in her well-kept blonde hair. She could smell Kaede's shampoo, which was just as soft and feminine of a lavender scent as one would imagine.

... The strangeness began to dawn on Kirumi. She was practically embracing the other woman from behind, sniffing her hair like a garden-variety pervert, and leering at her breasts. Meanwhile, Kaede was continuing to play with an unguarded expression, as if the massage that was slowly travelling from her shoulders to her collarbones was actually relaxing her.

Strangest of all, though, was something only now occurring to Kirumi. Why could she FEEL Kaede's sweater at all? She was wearing gloves... Magic gloves, but still! The strange sensations of touching another woman's fabric, the shape of her thin shoulders through the clothes, and even exploring her collarbone... Those sensations weren't just in her head. What were those gloves up to?!

The overarching plan might be a mystery to her, but their next course of action wasn't. The gloves were continuing to travel further down, forcing Kirumi to basically hunch over her friend, shifting her head to fall over the other student's shoulder and wrapping her tightly in her arms. She found herself turning her head to rest her cheek on Kaede's scalp, appreciating the silky smoothness of the other woman's hair on her skin. Then, her gloved hands, apparently not satisfied with the softness of Kaede's outer garment, dove hungrily into the V of her neckline to begin greedily grabbing at the pianist's shirt.

"Ah!" Kaede gasped and winced, although she was still smiling. "Th-this is, um, part of the technique?"

Kirumi nodded in the place of words, clenching her teeth as her hands acted against her will. As she unavoidably stretched the neckline of Kaede's favorite outfit, she could feel the surprisingly sweaty undershirt clinging to the bra. Her fingers searched for a moment, as if trying to guess the shape of Kaede's undergarment like reading Braille text. She was no longer being gentle at all, exploring the shape of Kaede's nice handfuls as a matter of urgency, dragging her fingers across the sweat-stained thin fabric and shamelessly digging them into the bra cups. "Please, continue, and feel totally relaxed."

"S-sure! You know what you're doing, I'm sure. I feel... really relaxed!" the red-faced Kaede agreed with a shaky smile, her eyes widening as she made the rare mistake of missing a note. "Oh! I need to concentrate... Is it supposed to be this hard to concentrate?"

"Mm," Kirumi muttered in non-answer. She felt a strange sensation when she heard that missed note. It sent a shiver of wrongness through her, but her hands weren't giving her time to interrogate that. Instead, she was noticing that the gloves' magic was beginning to work on Kaede. The already impressive mass under her sweater was increasing. More flesh seemed to be rushing to fill the thin shirt beneath her grasp. In turn, the softness rushed to fill her hands. Kirumi's breathing picked up as her fingers found more and more pliable flesh to grab. She could hear Kaede's breath grow ragged as her familiar outfit tightened. "This technique can be intense. Are you having trouble breathing?"

"Y-yeah!"

"One moment." One of Kirumi's hands pulled her friend's orange tie from her sweater as the other began to unfasten the buttons of her shirt. Kirumi was an expert at this task herself, but she thought she'd have been hard-pressed to do it this quickly from this position without the aid of the gloves. Meanwhile, the other hand lifted the tie in front of Kaede's face, covering one of her eyes.

"Kirumi, I can't see the sheet music!" Kaede complained, although a breathy giggle escaped as well.

"Yes, that's part of the training technique I practice," Kirumi lied with surprising ease. "It should be easy for you to remember the music, I assume... For a ditzy blonde like you, that's about all that fits in the tiny space between those ears, yes?" Kirumi insulted her master with even more surprising ease.

Kaede giggled, but she didn't seem offended. "Well, I do love my pretty music!" Somehow, she was still playing in this position.

With the fiddly buttons swiftly undone, Kirumi's gloves wasted no time diving for the hem of her sweater, gripping the delicate fabric firmly, and yanking it up. It was a struggle, since Kaede now had so much chest to clear, but eventually the eye-widening sight of her enormous breasts spilling out was granted. Despite the bra, the impossibly large and bouncy breasts gave couple of skips of momentum before coming to a stop. Kirumi thought the gloves worked a little bit more magic: she had expected the very feminine Kaede would be wearing lacy undergarments, but the bra Kirumi's gaze was helplessly glued to didn't seem like the kind one wore to casual piano practice, nor the one she'd felt only moments earlier. It was hot pink, a shade removed from the pastel that normally defined Kaede's closet, and it was more lace than panel, straining to contain her incredible rack. "Mm... I think you'll find it much easier to breathe and play with those sweater puppies free, won't you, my slutty master?"

"W-well, it's easier to breathe, for sure," Kaede agreed, her face now as pink as her bra. "It's just a little hard to, uh, concentrate, since I'm... y'know...?"

Kirumi privately thought it would be hard for anyone to keep playing piano in this position, but she didn't say that. "Horny? Well, please try to keep at it. You're supposed to be the Ultimate Pianist, yes? If you were to give up simply because your friend is making you feel too good by playing with your massive cow tits, people might think you were simply a simple-minded pleasure-seeking slut..." As she patronizingly spoke, she grabbed one of the aforementioned tits in each hand, giving each a soft but eager squeeze as if she intended to milk them. The way her fingers sunk in, the way the breasts stretched like her elastic playthings... A part of Kirumi thought she could keep up this way for an hour. "As your servant, it's my job to help you avoid that impression, even if it's true."

"Ooh, right! I almost forgot. Hehe, thanks, Kirumi," Kaede giggled with a big, grateful smile.

"No need to thank me. Serving is my pleasure--!" Kirumi had been moving, speaking. and thinking as if in a trance, but she was snapped out of it when she was, to her surprise, forced to release Kaede's funbags, then plunged to the floor by the pull of her own hands. They pressed against the smooth tile of the music room, then carried her under the piano bench to where Kaede's feet were still dutifully working the pedals. Kirumi had to duck her own head to avoid bumping it, but soon, as she was turned around...

... The maid was sure this must be what it felt like to go insane. The sound of the piano was all around her, too loud, as if she were inside it. Kaede's plump thighs continued to work around her, occasionally squishing pleasantly against her friend's pale cheeks as they moved for the middle pedal. More than anything, however, this space was dominated by the pianist's sweat, a smell that Kirumi was well aware came less from furious piano playing and more from magically-induced arousal. Although it was slightly dark, Kirumi could see the exposed flesh of Kaede's belly, the shelf of the woman's breasts doing the work of keeping the sweater rolled up alone. She could see Kaede's purple skirt right in her face, and since the legs were apart to work the pedals on either side of Kirumi, she could see right into the space between the pianist's legs.

Kaede's panties were pastel pink and lace-lined, exactly the kind of girly, nicely-covering garment one would expect. Preposterously, Kirumi found herself thinking of them like a messily-made bed. Work to do, in other words.

This time, Kirumi would see it happen. Her gloves reached for Kaede's hips, slinking into the space between skirt and hips to dig into the pianist's panties. For now, they'd only enjoy the brush against flesh, as their focus was on the fabric. They began playing with the garment, pinching it, rubbing it, stretching and reforming it. As they worked, there seemed to be less and less of it to go around. The effect of the color changing was like watching a neon sign light up in the dark, the eye-catching hotness practically glowing even in the shadow of the skirt. By the time the gloves were done, the previously chaste undergarments matched the top. A panel covered the sex, but otherwise, Kirumi could take in details of the way the lace formed into musical notes around otherwise uncovered pretty pale flesh and blonde pubic hair. It was clearly less about personal comfort and more about a two-note pianist showing off the only two halves of her personality.

"So hot..." Kirumi muttered to herself helplessly. "Ahem. Kaede, for this next step, I need you to spread your legs wider and put your face to the keys."

Kaede laughed. "Uh, Kirumi, if I do that, I won't be able to play-"

"This next step in the process is absolutely vital. Trust the process, please. If you simply part those thick thighs of yours and put your face down like a good girl, you and I will make some truly incredible music together."

The pianist didn't respond verbally, but Kirumi knew she was taking the vulgar suggestion to heart when she saw the legs spread to either side, providing more access to the target of Kirumi's interest. For just a moment, she heard Kaede's notes coming through distorted as she played without the foot pedals. Then, she heard an alarming BANG of keys as the practiced playing gave way to ordered obedience. From this position, Kaede's heavy hangers were right on top of Kirumi's head as the maid pressed in to offer more personal service.

One hand magically lifted Kaede's body with all the power of a car jack, while the other shoved the bench roughly aside, leaving the pianist supported only by a single glove's strength. Kirumi could feel the softness of the ass it was now gripping with both hands. Since those were occupied, she was forced to use her own teeth to move aside the panel of fabric covering Kaede's undercarriage. The strange sensation of another woman's sweat on her mouth was only strange to her a second longer, as she wasted no time pressing her nose into Kaede's bush, feeling its tickle as she began to lap at her slit. It was hardly a practiced motion, but then, this was something Kirumi had never had a reason to practice for a master.

Still, it seemed to be working wonders for Kirumi's newly needy fellow student. Kirumi could hear Kaede's moans of pleasure and feel her legs thrash around her as the gloves gripped her increasingly generous glutes. The sensation of sinking her fingers into another woman's plump asscheeks and of squishy thighs occasionally wrapping her, threatening to cut off her air, ought to have been breathtaking, but her mind was firmly devoted to the completely alien sensation of her tongue exploring Kaede's virginity. A faraway part of her remembered that the composition Kaede had asked for her help on was supposed to be an expression of gratitude to a certain someone; whatever that work had been and whatever thoughtful pianist had made it were barely in the room, replaced by an occasional BONG of keys as the half-dressed virgin at the bench occasionally rolled her addled cheek and tongue onto another group of keys, slamming one fist into a few while gripping a few more with the other hand for dear life.

The devoted maid knew her hard work was done when a shower of juices suddenly released into unusually flushed face, coating both it and her mussed silver hair with the scent of sex. The thighs tightened around the sides of her head in a way that felt almost dangerous as the hips jerked in front of her, leaving Kirumi momentarily wondering if she'd become the Academy's first murder victim as the price for her antics.

Finally, the gloves let go of Kaede's ass, allowing Kirumi to draw her face back and breathe for dear life. She got to observe her handiwork as Kaede's newly thick hips and thighs twitched, her heavy chest heaving. Now released to gravity, her lewd body began to slide noisily off of the keys. The slow process suddenly gave way to her whole body falling, leaving the brilliant pianist in a breathless heap on the floor of her own lab.

Kirumi heard a number of rude comments flooding her head. "I told you you were going to make a beautiful sound." "You should wear that to your next recital." "Feel free to call me when you need another lesson." However, her head was suddenly clear, and her face reflected her horror at what she'd just done to the woman she was supposed to serve. As her gloved hands clapped as if in appreciation of Kaede's performance, all Kirumi could think about was how she was supposed to clean up the mess--

And then, the gloved fingers snapped.

Before Kirumi's eyes, the scene in front of her corrected itself. Kaede was still on the floor, but she was dressed and reasonably proportioned. She was still flushed, but her tongue was back in her mouth. She slowly seemed to be coming to her senses. "Wow, that technique of yours is... unexpectedly intense!" she commented with a giggle. "Still, I can safely say that I've never played like that before. Would you like to... play with me again some time, Kirumi?"

With this invitation, Kirumi was sure she saw a funny smile twist Kaede's pretty lips. Whatever magic had been put in her had done something to her.

No. Kirumi herself had done this to her. "With hardly any consequences," Kirumi's voice seemed to whisper in her own head.

Still, the maid fled from the music room without responding. At first, she thought that was out of her fear of being caught or having to explain herself, even though all evidence of the escapade had disappeared (including Kaede's release on her face and bangs). Then, she realized that fear was only in her head, and that fear grew when she realized that what was propelling her hands (and therefore the rest of her body) was excitement.

She had scheduled two more tasks for the day. At the time, she had thought she was choosing who to help by her own will, but now that she had perspective... "Oh no. Please, no!" she whimpered, realizing where she was headed.

---

In the time being dragged along by her own hands, lurching like a zombie, Kirumi had mentally steeled herself for what she was about to encounter. Although she couldn't dig in her heels and resist the gloves physically, she could at least stop them from corrupting her principles, now that she knew what she was up against.

What had been done to Kaede was inexcusable, and Kirumi had no intention of letting it happen a second time. There was no reason helping a pianist with her practice should turn into sexual exploration and exploitation. There was certainly no reason it needed to happen with the Ultimate Cosplayer, as well.

"Tsumugi took me into her confidence because she trusted my professionalism," she reminded herself. "Tsumugi told me she was concerned her latest cosplay was too daring to appear in public... It is up to me to provide her the courtesy of a neutral and respectful viewing party. I fully intend to do so-"

Kirumi slapped the cheeks on her face as if psyching herself up. Of course, it was only her gloves' way of snapping her out of her musing. The maid's dragged footsteps had taken her all the way to the curtain in Tsumugi's cosplay lab.

A timid voice came from the dressing room. "I-is that you, Kirumi? I'm sorry, but I'm calling this off! It's plain to see this is way too flashy for someone like me!"

Kirumi was trying hard not to think about Tsumugi's body at all, as if ignoring the idea of it could make her gloves less excitable. Still, Tsumugi's words surprised her. The cosplay she'd announced was supposedly intended to transform her into a character from an anime... Kirumi had never seen Kill La Kill, but she looked up the character of "Satsuki" in preparation. That woman seemed to wear a school uniform not too far removed from the one Tsumugi wore around Hope's Peak. It wouldn't blend in with ordinary students, considering it had a big pair of eyes on the ribbon at the collar, but it wouldn't even look out of place among what some of the student body called "uniforms."

With effort, Kirumi folded her hands behind her back and cleared her throat. "Ahem... The cosplay is complete, and you are dressed in it, correct? I cannot allow my master to come this far and lose sight of her passion at the final moment. Naturally, you have my assurance I will never laugh at your hard work. My only desire is to give you a level evaluation."

"A-all right... Just remember, you promised..."

Tsumugi could be heard catching her breath.

Kirumi took a quiet breath of her own, clasping her traitorous fingers together tightly.

Tsumugi stepped out of the curtain...

Instantly, Kirumi's impression was shattered. Her one visible eye popped open wide, and her jaw hung slightly open.

Kirumi's research into what kinds of outfits this anime character wore were clearly insufficient. The dark wig and intense features, along with the white color, were the only points the maid had correctly guessed. Otherwise, the "clothes" Tsumugi had worn out included full gloves, full boots, spire-like shoulders that could only come from an anime, and barely anything else. The gloves were of one piece with a jacket, but the jacket barely covered the collarbones before transitioning into a strappy, one-piece v-kini with garters to the boots. Her cleavage... her belly button... her hips and, if she turned around, surely both cheeks of her ass would be on full display. Her face was red as a beet, but she was trying her hardest to keep on the severe glare that apparently went with the outfit.

This was the point where, on an ordinary day, Kirumi would have to make the hard choice of supporting her master's ambitious choice or cautioning her against a reckless mistake. Whatever advice she offered, it would be well-considered and beyond reproach.

Today wasn't an ordinary day. Kirumi found her own hands clapping enthusiastically in front of her stunned face before one of them shoved its fingers into her own mouth, forcing her to emit a wolf whistle.

Tsumugi immediately crossed her arms in front of her breasts and lower body, crossing her legs as if trying to hide more of her bare skin that way. "Kirumi! I-is this your way of telling me it's way too much? I'll change out of it right now-"

Kirumi's head shook wildly; Tsumugi wouldn't be able to guess this gesture was driven by the slobbery fingers in Kirumi's own mouth. She let out a gasp as they popped out. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she found more strange words leaving her lips: "Not at all. I'm merely expressing admiration in the way I expect you will receive it. In other words, I want to prepare you for the reaction." Her brow furrowed in concern as she saw her hand begin rolling again. "I believe, um... it will be far less embarrassing to receive this reaction from a trusted female friend than a random audience, don't you?"

"Oh... Oh!" Tsumugi muttered vacantly, her blue contacts following the hypnotic hand. Her expression turned into a smile, and eventually, she nodded in approval. "Gosh, you're right! If I'm gonna pretend to be Satsuki in this outfit, it's plain I've gotta work on my confidence, huh? Well, then..." She turned around, briefly giving a peek at her nearly-bare ass before the curtain of her hip-length wig covered it. She rummaged and turned once more with a prop sword. She pressed it tip-first to the floor, throwing her shoulders back and standing proudly. When she spoke again, she had transformed into the character, projecting in a booming voice. "I won't be ashamed. If it means I can fulfill my ambitions, I will bare my breasts for all to see! I will do whatever it takes! For I know that my actions are utterly pure!"

Kirumi's hands finally stopped clapping, and for a moment, she thought she was managing to put them behind her back again. That illusion of victory vanished when she realized they had come to rest behind her head instead. Her own hands were pushing her forward by the back of her skull. "A-ah... Tsumugi, forgive me...!"

With no way to stop herself, Kirumi's face was forced into the valley of cleavage offered by her friend's racy costume. Then, before the maid could recover, the gloves each grabbed one of the breasts in front of them and began shaking them back and forth, battering the maid's face along with her dignity in a pillowy prison. She roughly massaged them, pushing and pulling them first at once, then in alternating tugs to press them against her own buried cheeks. The mounds were every bit as soft as Kaede's had been, and once again, Kirumi seemed to feel that softness through the gloves she wore. Actually, the feeling was even more acute... It was as if her bare fingertips were digging into Tsumugi's pliable skin.

"K-Kiru... Mhm... P-Pig in human clothing!" Tsumugi shouted. Evidently, her glove-addled brain still thought this was part of the practice. "Before you indulge such naked appetite, you must first show me your str- ghgh!!" Her attempt to ad-lib a line broke as she bit her lip, letting out a whimper. "Th-this is plainly too rough, right? Nobody's going to be doing this at my photo shoot, are they?!"

Kirumi tore her face from her friend's boobs and stared up at her with an even expression that was at odds with the mess her hair had become. "On the contrary. If you flaunt this absurdly lewd body of yours, your fans will be helpless to do otherwise." As she spoke, her hands continued massaging Tsumugi's already-large breasts, making them swell and strain against the tight confines of her cosplay and threaten a wardrobe malfunction. "Unless you intend to show me how you'll stop them? You're supposed to be a proud warrior, are you not?"

"Satsuki Kiryuin... wouldn't be defeated... like this...!" Tsumugi panted, although, with her dark wig beginning to slip and showing off more of her own long, blue hair, she was beginning to look less like her character and more like herself. Furthermore, with newly massive breasts, and with her top changed from the anime likeness it had been to a lacy, pure-white bra no longer connected to the now-falling bottom half, she could hardly be said to look like either Satsuki Kiryuin or Tsumugi Shirogane. Still, she bit her lip, putting up the token resistance she felt the character she was cosplaying was owed.

As the bottom of Tsumugi's outfit fell away from her blue bush, Kirumi slid a finger along the cosplayer's sex and stepped forward, forcing her classmate back into the dressing room. Once she'd backed her all the way up, pressing her bare buttcheeks to the full-height mirror behind her, Kirumi licked the wet finger and placed her hands back on Tsumugi's chest. "Yes, if you appear in front of a crowd like this, dressed half in your slutty cosplay and half in your birthday suit, waving these massive melons at the audience, I think you should be prepared for any consequences. In that case, you can hardly complain if I help myself..."

In an action that surely must be aided by their molding magic, the gloves managed to rip the strained bra away from Tsumugi without so much as unfastening a hook. As Kirumi tossed it to the lab floor behind them, one of her greedy hands grabbed one of Tsumugi's jug-sized jugs. She could practically hear it slosh. The other grabbed the back of her own head, guiding it towards what that hand had decided she wanted. Then, with shock momentarily reflected in her one visible eye, Kirumi found herself sucking on the unreal breast of her classmate. Her lips were pursed and the suction was rough. Far from romantic, the gesture was hungry. Kirumi could hear the disgraceful sound of her own lips, then feel the unfamiliar sensation of her own tongue circling a nipple.

There was the taste of skin, and then... of milk? Was that possible, for Tsumugi's body to produce it? Kirumi could barely think about it and couldn't care less. Her lips continued teasing the cosplayer's increasingly haggard body. Any thought of resisting, of remaining respectable, of serving as a perfect maid was set aside as Kirumi's gloves forced her to gorge herself on Tsumugi's wild body, erotic moans, and impossible fluids. Finally got what she was after: a stream of milk accompanied by a jet of ejaculation from her friend's overstimulated body, announced by a cry of ecstasy that was one-hundred-percent Tsumugi and zero-percent whatever warrior she was trying to be.

The barely-dressed cosplayer slid down the mirror of her dressing room with a face made unfamiliar by her pleasure. No longer a plain nerd behind glasses or the fierce disciplinary head of an anime, her rolled-up eyes and bright-red face identified her as nothing more than another conquest for the insatiable gloves and their wearer.

Kirumi wiped milk from her lips and smiled down at her friend. She snapped her still-sticky fingers and saw the outfit return to the full version it had been before, low-coverage as it was. Tsumugi's breasts were back to being big instead of being blimps. When Kirumi saw her own face in the mirror, however, she realized that while Tsumugi had reverted, she herself had transformed. The calm, collected demeanor she worked to cultivate with her master's interests in mind had disappeared, replaced by a smug, shameless smile that didn't seem to care who saw it. When she noticed a bit of milk dribble still on her chin, she couldn't even be bothered to wipe it.

"As for your assessment, my master... No, I would not advise appearing in front of others in floss like that, unless you're planning to become a convention's open milk bar. However, you are free to wear it in front of me again any time you like. If I'm feeling thirsty, I may request it. Is that acceptable?"

She smiled as she saw the dazed cosplayer nod along with the preposterous terms.

"Excellent. Thank you, master." She turned on her heels. As she made her way to her final appointment of the day with a small skip in her step, she was no longer being dragged, thinking about resistance, or worrying over how to best serve a master.

After all, why treat the gloves as masters when they could so much more effectively be partners?

---

"Yes, I'm certain. It'll be far easier to wash your clothing for you if you take it off before you exercise. And, naturally, as there are only the two of us women here, there is no need for you to feel ashamed. And if you are worried about men walking in to find you training in the buff, well, all the more reason to throw your back into it and train at double speed, wouldn't you say? I'd call that effective motivation."

"Of course! It's as you say!" Tenko, the Ultimate Aikido Master, nodded along happily as she finished shucking her undershorts, exposing her bare and toned body to the training dojo that was her lab. As her face wore a trusting and vacant smile, her eyes followed Kirumi's waving hand in spirals. Unlike the others, her head's entire facing direction seemed to swivel as if locked to it. "There is only one point I must dispute. If a degenerate male walks in to see me training naked, I will not be worried, but I WILL be motivated. Motivated to defend myself with lethal force, if necessary!"

"Yes, well, I hope it shall not come to that," Kirumi remarked quietly, accepting Tenko's garish purple undergarments with a grimace she didn't bother hiding. As she spoke, she idly began working them in her hands, transforming them into the sort of lacy garments she now preferred. She had no intention of letting Tenko wear these again until her fun was over, but she couldn't help but fuss over it, regardless. "I suppose I cannot help but serve my master, no matter the circumstances," she mused with a small smile.

"What was that?" Tenko asked, picking up more of her clothes off the floor and putting them in the bin Kirumi had brought.

"I said I'm looking forward to serving you. Did you know? My hands have shaped women just like yourself into an ideal body... for martial arts, of course. In fact, I'd prefer you call me 'Master Kirumi' while we're working together. Isn't that reasonable?"

Completely forgetting she already had someone she called "Master" in her dojo, Tenko nodded eagerly. "Of course, Master Kirumi! I am yours to mold!"

"Excellent. And I believe it is also appropriate I call you 'my slut.'" Kirumi didn't pause or stop smiling. "I apologize for the rough language, but I feel widening the gap in our stations will help best motivate you to learn. If you agree with this very sensible request, please say 'I'm your slut, Master Kirumi.'" To punctuate her request, Kirumi waved the hand she had been circling in an up and down motion.

It had the desired effect, forcing Tenko to do a deep nod as she followed, her ponytails flapping. She did look a little flustered and a lot confused, but she went along with her master's instruction without question. "I'm your... u-um... y-y-your slut, Master Kirumi! If y-you will have me!"

"I will have you," Kirumi confirmed. Her smile and polite curtsy could be called a familiar gesture, it one ignored the strange twinkle in her eye. "Now then. Your practice for today will be groping. Ah, my apologies. I meant grappling. I will place you in a hold, and you will do your best to get out of it. Without throwing me, of course."

"Hmm, throwing others is one of the core tenets of Neo-Aikido," Tenko muttered, taking it very seriously. "Then again, I need no further glimpse into Master Kirumi's heart to see its cloudless purity! There must be an important lesson you have in mind for me. Your slut accepts your challenge!"

Kirumi and her gloves couldn't wait any longer. For a while now, her fingers had been flexing with impatience. As soon as Tenko said go, the hands shot forward, finding no resistance from the maid attached. Eagerly, Kirumi got two handfuls of Tenko, honking one breast while squeezing one cheek of the ass. With just as little hesitation, she went to work playing with the martial artist's body, completely ignoring her squeals of surprise and grunts of exertion.

The maid had always been surprised at how, despite Tenko's exercise and attempts to maintain the toned body of a fighter, so much softness remained. Back before there was a perverted thought in her head for it, Kirumi had offered Tenko post-workout massages. The feeling of fingers on her back or her shoulders was nothing compared to this. For all her bluster on offense and pride in her technique, Tenko was a total lightweight when it came to defending herself, and she seemed more sensitive to the teasing than the already mewling Kaede and Tsumugi had been.

There was no sense of gentleness in the way Kirumi played with her new toy. She hadn't paid attention to it before, but she was pleased to confirm that the gloves could, in fact, make both sides of a woman's assets fill out evenly while only in direct contact with the one. Tenko's body had plenty of room for improvement, but Kirumi was happy to skip the unbalanced between steps. She smirked to herself, wondering if Tenko would be able to, in her foggy state, sense that her prized body and all sense of balance were being twisted under the hands of her new body-shaping Master. "How are you doing, my slut? Having trouble? I was expecting you to have escaped by now..." That was a lie, of course. Even if Tenko was all there, Kirumi had personally experienced how forceful the grip of these gloves could be when they wanted it. "The female body you're so proud of has some significant weaknesses... You're getting so wet just having your fat tits and ass fondled, aren't you? Forgive me, but are you even trying to escape?"

"O-of course!" Tenko defended herself with words, the only way she currently could. "Of course, it's just... i-if I could throw, it would be so easy, b-but... I could never hurt you, Master Kirumi. Perhaps... I'm unable to unleash my full s-s-ssspirit for that reason...!"

While Tenko tried to avert her sheepish gaze, Kirumi locked eyes with her and locked both hands on her captive's newly wide ass cheeks, digging her gloved fingertips into the plush plumpness and speaking evenly. "How disgraceful, for one who prides herself on her discipline to be brought low by something like this... I can only assume you find it heavenly, having another woman play with your sweaty, sopping shelf of a rear end. Look... I can hold you here in just one hand. See? You're powerless to escape even if I only hold one cheek, correct?"

Tenko probably would be surprised if she was in a position to reason at all. Instead, she simply squirmed and fidgeted as if held magnetically in place by Kirumi's one frisky glove. "That's... G-give me a moment to...!"

Suddenly, the loud return of the missing hand sent a resounding SMACK through the room. Whatever plan Tenko's poor brain was forming escaped her head along with an aroused yelp. Her new pumpkin of a rump jiggled under its own power from the force of the fresh slap, and Tenko's knees were already shaking from just one hit.

Smirking, Kirumi noted the dripping on the mat between Tenko's desperately clutched legs. "This seems like an area that needs improvement. Some endurance training may be warranted. Bend over, my slut."

The martial artist did as she was told, biting her lip as she turned around and presented her hindquarters with their one red handprint to her master. She gripped onto a training dummy in front of her for support, looking back over her shoulder with a shaky smile. "M-m-my tolerance is actually... pretty low, Master! So please, be gentOOOH?!?"

The maid ignored that plea entirely. The enthusiastic gloves whirled their servant's arms in a windmill of paddling palms, striking Tenko's poor posterior and curtaining it with new prints. Every slap seemed to plump it out another centimeter or so, and they were adding up quickly thanks to Kirumi's efforts.

The slap-happy servant was finding her brain every bit as foggy from the task as she was making Tenko. Her thoughts, her personality, whatever care she normally put into carrying herself, anticipating wishes, and treating others with respect; everything was subsumed by a desire to see how big the preposterous proportions of the body in front of her could get; to see what kind of ridiculous response to the rude treatment she could force out of Tenko; to see the target lose control of herself and become another plaything of the gloves that had given her everything she (or they, or all of them) could ever want. "It's better if you're blindfolded for this part. It has... um... s-some beneficial psychological effect. Yes, that's right. So, I'm... pfft...!" Kirumi couldn't stop herself from uncharacteristically snorting with laughter. "I'm going to put your panties over your head. What an excellent idea, wouldn't you say?! Say you want it, slut!"

"I-I want it!" Tenko had the crazy thought that it would be better if the underwear hid the shameful expression of pleasure she was helpless to correct. Her eyes were stuck looking at the ceiling, and she'd long since fallen to her knees, unable to remain standing under the assault on her newly sensitive ass. "Y-yesh Mashter! Please!!"

Kirumi didn't even bother maintaining an illusion of normality. Instead, she slipped her hands easily out of the gloves that had been holding her captive, allowing them to float in place and continue raining slaps while she reached for Tenko's discarded underwear. No control returned to her. The thought of escape did not occur to her. The only helpful thing she did for anyone was satisfy her own new amusement by placing a pair of panties Tenko had never worn on the girl's head. The maid paused to admire the tastefulness of them: dark purple with lighter purple lace, frills, and subtle cursive lace spelling "Master's Slut" right along the band. They were lower coverage than Kirumi would like to see on a woman, but since they were dark, they were perfect for cutting off Tenko's sight.

"Ooooh!!" Tenko cried at absurd volume.

"A gag might have been better than a blindfold, but oh well!" Kirumi giggled deliriously, enjoying the sight in front of her. Thanks to the gloves, Tenko's abused rump was now less like a body part and more clearly a toy, a bright red expanse of flesh far wider than Tenko's shoulders and much larger than the hands working on it. Furthermore, with the gloves' magic, Kirumi could feel the hot, yielding, sweaty flesh with every slap, even before she returned her hands into the garments. She slipped them in mid-movement, something that would have been impossible if they weren't in perfect sync.

She wound up and gave Tenko one more hard slap to the broadside, watching the wobbling meat jump to one side from the impact, then shake and clap from momentum alone. "Very good. Endurance training is almost complete. However, there's one final exercise I wish to introduce you to... One that's very special to me. After I endured something similar, I became the perfect, loyal maid that stands before you. You simply need to spread your legs and hold that position. Don't worry about the gushing mess you're making all over the mats. Someone will clean that up later."

Kirumi was practically rubbing her hands as she saw Tenko eagerly assume the position, defenselessly splaying her knees to either side and revealing all business to the woman behind her. The sweat and heat of her body were practically rising off of her in clouds, now, and she seemed desperate to do whatever it took to bring the punishment to an end.

...

For a moment, the sight stirred something in Kirumi. She frowned, feeling some pang of familiarity. As the gloves left her hands, clasped each other, and each extended an evocative pointing finger in parallel, she could, for some reason, easily imagine both how Tenko felt in the moment and how she was about to feel in a second. With that thought in her head, she thought Tenko would begin begging or pleading. The part of her that was Tenko's friend and that lived to serve wanted to comfort her... or, perhaps, to warn her...?

The gloves were gone.

Kirumi had lost sight of them momentarily, but she felt them again. The had secured onto the front of her own lacy-paneled black underwear, extending in that pointing position like a rod. No, not a rod... as she felt their strangely sensitive extended tips brush the front of her skirt and felt a strange shiver, she realized exactly what it was supposed to be. As impossible as it was, Kirumi was helpless to avoid lifting her own skirt to look upon it.

It was a pair of folded gloves, but in that position, with that rigidity and excited twitching, it looked just like a penis to her. It felt just like one, too! Obviously, Kirumi had never had one, but she thought the sensation coursing through it as she allowed her eyes to travel from the strange, sensitive strap-on to Tenko's waiting hole was exactly like an erection.

Her slut's ass was all she wanted, right? The gloves wanted it, too! All that was left was to claim it!

All other thoughts blasted out of her mind. Kirumi dove forward, grabbing the scattered ribbons of Tenko's ponytails in clenched fists. Then, with her teeth clenched and her lips pursed in an unrecognizable expression of exertion, the maid plunged her glove-penis pointing-fingers-first into the waiting hole of Tenko's huge bottom. She jerked forward and backward like a piston, skipping the first-time experience of jacking off and going straight to the excitement of anal penetration with an intensity she'd never imagined. She could feel every thrust being squeezed by her friend's impossible walls as the waves of ass fat crashed against her again and again. Her own rough groans were huskier, but no less raucous than Tenko's.

Sure enough, Tenko's endurance turned out to be depressingly limited. A wall-shaking cry emitted from the other woman, and a jet of pleasure strong enough to splash Kirumi's stockings from this position shot from her lower body. It came once once more when the fingers left Tenko's body, leaving her twitching and defeated on the floor of her dojo. She was face down on the mat, knees in a pool of her own fluids, tongue fallen from her grateful grin.

Clearing sweaty strands from her own forehead as she cooled down, Kirumi was happy all of this would be cleaned up by magic... The part of her that cared about cleanliness was screaming at her in a small voice. Of course, she had been expecting she would ejaculate too. She could practically imagine the thick ropes of spooge shot actross Tenko's ass. It seemed making that happen was one thing still beyond the gloves... For now, at least.

Still, she was thankful for the experience. "Ah, thank you, magic gloves... groping women, playing with their bodies... Calling them dirty names and treating them like toys... Wearing them like cocksleeves and wearing them out like exercise machines... I'd never imagined it could be so much fun, and I have you to thank."

The gloves, which had disengaged themselves and shaken off the slime of their task, clapped. They floated behind their star disciple to give her a literal pat on the back. She could sense their appreciation through her bond with them. If she was satisfied with them as her master, they were every bit as satisfied with their servant.

... Or not. As the clapping on her back came to an end, Kirumi gulped. She stared forward dumbly, pretending she didn't know what was about to happen. Still, with such a close psychic bond as she now had with her two masters, there was no way she couldn't predict their needs--

As fingers shoved themselves into her asshole, screwing the fabric of her midnight-black panties into her body with eager force, Kirumi let out a shameful cry. She kept her legs braced and bowed through sheer discipline. She also held up two fingers of each hand in a "peace" sign. She no longer needed the gloves to physically guide her to do so. Instead, she could simply sense that was what they wanted as a show of appreciation.

"Oooooghuh! Th-thank you, Masters!"