Chapter 1: The beginning of time
The morning air carried the last coolness of autumn as Yuma stepped through the marble archway of Rindo Ira college. White walls caught the low sun, and the green stripe running through them seemed to glow. Students moved past him in clusters, laughing, talking, their voices echoing off the polished floors.
Yuma kept his head down, his bag strap digging into his shoulder.
It had been three months since the Fukuba event. Three months since the world shifted sideways and reality rewritten itself in ways nobody fully understood. He had watched the news reports on his penthouse TV, the grainy footage of the occult club room, the summoning circle still smoking on the floor. Fuku Binri's wish had been broadcast everywhere before the administrators cut the feed. Beautiful women with monstrous dicks. Half the world's men losing a quarter of their size.
Yuma had done the math. His two inches had become one and a half. Then, weirdly, over the following weeks, it had crept back up to two again. Not that it mattered. Two inches was two inches. It had been a problem before the event, and it remained a problem after.
He passed the genetics building and caught a glimpse of the new female students, the Futanari, walking together in their neat skirts and sweaters. They were everywhere now. Taller, curvier, with a presence that made the air feel different when they passed. Some of them had bulges visible through their clothing, thick shapes that moved as they walked.
Yuma's face went warm. He looked away.
"Hey, Yuma!"
He flinched, then recognized the voice. One of his classmates, Kaneda, jogged up with a grin. "You look spaced out, man. Still thinking about the event?"
Yuma shrugged. "Just a lot to process."
"Tell me about it." Kaneda laughed. "My roommate got hit with the smaller thing. He's down to, like, nothing now. He's been crying for weeks."
Yuma forced a smile. He didn't have the heart to tell Kaneda he'd never had much to lose.
•••
The morning lectures went by in a blur. Yuma took notes mechanically, his mind drifting, his pen moving across the page without his conscious input. Business law. Market analysis. He understood it all, could have done it in his sleep. That was the strange thing about his gift. Numbers made sense to him in ways people never did.
By lunch he found himself in the south courtyard, sitting alone on a bench with a bento he barely touched. Across the path, a group of Futanari girls laughed together, their voices light and melodic. One of them noticed him staring and smiled, a soft, knowing smile that made his stomach flip.
He looked down at his lap instead.
His phone buzzed. A message from his mother. "How are you doing? Have you made any friends? You're not staying in that penthouse all alone, are you?"
Yuma typed back a quick reassurance, then pocketed the phone. He wasn't lying, exactly. He talked to people. He just didn't connect with them. There was a wall around him that he couldn't lower, a quiet stiffness in his every interaction. People tried, sometimes. They gave up eventually. He didn't blame them.
His eyes drifted back to the Futanari. His own thoughts circled like a shark.
What was wrong with him? That was the old question, the familiar one. Not just the size, but everything. The softness of his voice. The way he avoided eye contact. The shame that pooled in his chest whenever he thought about his own body. And now, with the world changed, with these impossibly beautiful women everywhere, that shame had a new dimension. He wasn't even sure what he wanted anymore. He'd questioned his sexuality before the event, in the quiet of his room, late at night. Now he questioned everything.
He caught himself spiraling and breathed out.
Stop. This wasn't helping. His therapist, the one his parents had insisted on after the event, had given him exercises for this. Grounding techniques. He looked at the green stripe on the wall and traced it with his eyes. He counted the tiles.
Then he stood up, packed his bento, and went to find someone to help.
There was always someone. A freshmen fumbling with a vending machine. A girl struggling with a stack of boxes in the hallway. An exchange student lost in the maze of corridors. Yuma was good at that, at deflecting his own anxiety by making himself useful. It wasn't much. But it let him feel, for a few minutes at a time, like he wasn't completely alone.
The afternoon passed that way.
•••
Gym class ended at four. Yuma showered quickly, the hot water loosening the tension in his shoulders, then padded barefoot to the back changing area. The main stalls were crowded with the post-exercise rush, so he headed toward the far side of the room, the quieter row. It was a habit he'd developed early in the semester. Fewer people meant fewer chances for someone to notice what he was, or wasn't, working with.
The first four stalls were locked. He checked each handle with a small frown. The locker room had been nearly empty a minute ago. He glanced back toward the main area, saw no one, and tried the next stall. It opened.
He slipped inside and shut the door behind him.
The stall was small, barely enough room for him to stand with his gym bag on a little bench. Green walls with white trim, yellow paint splatters across the lower half. He unzipped his bag and pulled out his clothes. White t-shirt, black tech pants. He reached for the folded lace at the bottom of his bag.
Pink. Tight. He'd started wearing them a few months ago, after the event, when everything about his old life felt wrong. They hugged him in ways that made him feel, briefly, less like a failure. He stepped into them, and the lace settled against his skin, and he felt the familiar shift in his chest.
He was reaching for his pants when he heard footsteps.
Yuma froze. The footsteps were light, quiet, moving toward his stall. He held his breath, hoping whoever it was would pass by.
The door handle turned.
The door swung open.
And there she was.
A girl, beautiful, small-framed with brown hair falling past her shoulders and soft brown eyes. She wore a short black mini skirt and a fluffy brown sweater. Her face, cute and open, was flushed. She stared at him, and her gaze dropped, and stopped on his lace panties and the tiny shape pressing against them.
Yuma felt his face ignite.
He wanted to disappear. To melt into the floor. His hands flew down to cover himself, but there was nothing to cover, not really. The panties did nothing to hide how small he was. If anything, they made it more obvious.
"Sorry!" she whispered. "I, I thought this was, the door was open, I didn't—"
Someone cleared their throat nearby. An administrator's voice rang out, calm and official. "Maintenance check. Is anyone still in the back stalls?"
The girl's eyes went wide. In one motion, before Yuma could speak, she stepped inside the stall and pulled the door shut behind her.
The lock clicked.
They stood chest to chest in the tiny space. Her sweater brushed against his bare torso. Her scent, something floral and sweet, filled his nostrils. Yuma's heart hammered so loud he was sure she could hear it.
Through the door, the administrator's footsteps moved closer.
The girl pressed a finger to her lips. Her eyes were apologetic, but there was something else in them too. Curiosity. Warmth.
And Yuma's body, traitor that it was, was reacting.
He felt himself stir against the lace. His panties grew damp at the front, and somewhere deeper, in his ass, there was a warmth that hadn't been there before. A twitching, like something waking up. It made him squirm, made his thighs press together, and the motion drew her gaze back down to him.
Her lips parted.
The footsteps moved past their door, then faded. The administrator's voice grew distant. The lock held.
She let out a slow breath and slumped against the door. "Sorry. That was, I really didn't mean to barge in on you like that."
Yuma couldn't find his voice. He just shook his head.
"I'm Uma," she said. "Uma Uito. I'm in the genetic engineering program. You're Yuma, right?"
His eyes went wide. "You know my name?"
"I have business law as an elective." She smiled, and the smile did something to her whole face, made it luminous. "You always sit in the back. You take really neat notes."
The compliment landed like a warm stone in his chest. He opened his mouth, closed it, then managed to say, "Thanks."
"So." Uma's gaze traveled down his body again, slower this time. "You're, um. You're really small."
Heat flooded his face. He stepped back, but there was nowhere to go. His back hit the stall wall. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry." She said it softly, like a gently spoken prayer, and it startled him into stillness. "I didn't mean it as a bad thing. I just, I noticed. Is that, does that bother you?"
Yuma opened his mouth. Closed it. Something in her eyes made him want to tell the truth.
"It's all I've ever had," he said. "I didn't get the curse shrinking, I was already like this. Before the event. It's just, how I'm made."
The words came out quieter than he intended, fragile. He waited for the pity, the awkward change of subject, the excuse to leave.
Uma didn't do any of that. She sat down on the little bench, crossing her legs, and looked up at him with those soft brown eyes. "Tell me about it."
And somehow, impossibly, right there in that tiny stall, with his pink lace panties riding up his hips, he did.
•••
The words came haltingly at first. The way he'd always been the quiet one, the forgettable one. The way his parents had tried to set him up with girls, and how each attempt had ended in embarrassment when they found out what he was packing. The way he'd convinced himself he would just be alone forever, because no woman in her right mind would want a man who could barely fill her palm.
Uma listened.
She didn't interrupt. She didn't offer fake reassurances. Her eyes just stayed on him, steady and warm, and when he finally trailed off, voice cracking, she reached out and took his hands.
"Yuma." She said his name like it mattered. "Can I show you something?"
He nodded, swallowing.
Uma shifted on the bench. She reached down, grabbed the hem of her short black skirt, and pulled it up. Underneath, she wore a pair of white lace panties, and there was something pressing against them. Something thick and long, making a clear, heavy shape against the fabric.
Yuma's breath caught.
Uma hooked her fingers under the waistband and tugged. Her panties came down, inch by inch, revealing the base of something huge, then the shaft, then the head. By the time the fabric peeled free, his mind had gone completely blank.
It was magnificent. There was no other word for it. Nine inches of smooth, thick cock, curving slightly upward, glistening at the tip. The head was flushed a deep pink, swollen, and the shaft was veined and thick as his forearm. Below it sat a heavy pair of balls, each the size of a small apple, swinging gently with her movement.
"That's..." Yuma's voice was barely a whisper. "That's..."
"Yours, if you want it." Uma said it simply. "I mean, not right now. But, you know. To pet. To make up for me seeing yours."
His eyes flew to her face. "What?"
"I embarrassed you. So it's only fair." She smiled, and there was a shyness underneath it, a sweetness that made his heart ache. "You can touch it. If you want."
Yuma stared at the cock in front of him. It was so big. So impossibly, overwhelmingly big. The thought of his tiny two inches next to it made him dizzy with inadequacy, and something else too. Something hot and strange that pooled low in his belly.
His ass twitched again. That strange, warm sensation, like the soft flesh there was reaching out in recognition.
Slowly, trembling, he reached out a hand.
His fingers brushed against the base of her cock first. The skin was hot, silky smooth over the firmness beneath. She let out a small, soft gasp, and her eyes fluttered. Emboldened, he ran his palm up the shaft, feeling every ridge and vein, the warmth of her body radiating through his skin.
When he reached the head, he stopped. It was slick with moisture. He touched it, and the tip pulsed, glistening anew.
"Sorry," Uma breathed. "It, um. It does that."
"It's beautiful." The words came out without his permission. "You're beautiful."
Uma's smile widened. She reached out and gently scooped his hands up, pressing them together between her own. Her eyes found his, and there was no pity in them. No condescension. Just a fierce, gentle certainty.
"Yuma, you don't have to suffer and feel less than. This is how you were made. And you're wonderful just the way you are." Her voice was soft and steady, a melody that wrapped around his heart. "And I don't know how you feel about Futanari. But I wanted to tell you. I love you. And I want you so badly."
Yuma's knees gave out. He sank onto the bench beside her, heart pounding, her words ringing in his ears.
"If you were my boyfriend," she continued, "or my husband, I promise you, Yuma. You would be the happiest man on campus. All your worries would fade away. You have a kind heart, and a good soul, you just have no one to do life with." She squeezed his hands, her thumb stroking over his knuckles. "So I want you to date me. So we can get married, and be together. And have a lot of hot sex."
Yuma stared at her. The words settled into him slowly, like warm honey seeping through cracks he hadn't known were there.
"You're serious?" he whispered.
"Deadly serious." Uma's smile turned playful. "I've been watching you for weeks, Yuma. You're kind. You're smart. You help people without expecting anything back. And you have these gorgeous eyes that look at the world like it's still worth caring about." She leaned closer, her breath warm on his face. "And your little dick in those cute pink panties? I think it's adorable. I want to kiss it. And you."
Yuma's face burned brighter than it ever had. His panties were soaking now, and his ass was practically humming with heat. "You, you really mean that?"
"I really do." Her voice dropped, going soft and intimate. "And I meant what I said about making you happy. I'll take care of you, Yuma. I'll make you come so hard you'll forget every sad thought you've ever had. And I'll do it with this." She tilted her hips, and her cock swayed, heavy and proud. "If you'll let me."
Yuma looked at her cock, then at her face, then back at her cock. His chest heaved. Everything in his life had been leading to this moment, to this tiny stall, to this beautiful impossible woman offering him something he'd never dared to dream of.
"Yes." The word tore out of him, raw and desperate. "Yes, I'll date you. I'll, I'll marry you. Whatever you want. I, I don't know how any of this works, but—"
Uma kissed him then. Soft and warm and unhurried. Her lips parted against his, and he tasted something sweet, and his whole body melted into her.
They broke apart, breathless, and she was smiling at him like he was the greatest treasure she'd ever found.
Yuma's cheeks flushed crimson, so hot they almost hurt. His hands were still wrapped in hers, his tiny cock straining against the lace, his ass humming with that strange, wonderful warmth.
Uma giggled, soft and melodic. "That's right. And I'm your Girlfriend now. But first, I think we need to get you dressed before someone else walks in on my handsome boyfriend in his pretty pink panties."