The Contractees: Class Pet

Author‘s Note: My original plan put a ‘Previously On The Contractees’ section right here, things really didn‘t work out space-wise. To get the full rundown on how Livia got here and what exactly a Challenge is, click the link to The Contractees: Livia Prelude in the description.


“SHIIIIII-grlk.” After a moment of surprise and horror at how she’d drawn one of the literal WORST cards to draw and lost the game—lost the Challenge— because of it, Lilia bit her tongue and focused on the consequences: She was about to be inflicted with a transformation/curse package made out every potential Challenge effect she selected, plus a big block of curse/detail-editing budget for Admilu (a entity interested in increasing realities’ fanservice quotient) to get creative with. She started imagining the possibilities—and that’s when the change started.

With a sudden throb of overlapping spells, her breasts expanded into perky spheroids near the size of her head, dominating the silhouette of her torso to the point of being easily visible from behind. Downward from them, further sub-spells thinned her waist and improved her backside, adding little in terms of volume but quite a bit of perky well-shapedness. Meanwhile, Lilia threw her favorite sweater off, keeping it away from any cloth-altering curses, and thanking fortune she unzipped it earlier.

Next, two quick mode-swaps turned her foxgirl ears and tail into the corresponding black cat versions, and her hair the same color, preserving the color-match she’d specified in her original transformation while ignoring all her other intentions. She’d be quite upset, normally, but Lilia had a more pressing concern: The stupor-inducing thrum, buzz, and tingle of the mental spells rapidly being infused with her, each with its own connections to a network of triggers, info transmitters, and more advanced bits of metamagic. She stumbled onto her knees, almost on all fours, her breasts overwhelming her distraction-weakened sense of balance, and that was when the Challenge-Space dropped her back into reality, in front of her waiting friends.

Once her friends helped her up, calmed her frantic explanation of what happened, and promised their support, the conversation turned to her curses. Walking her home, they found only that they hadn’t activated. Yet.

Early the next morning, a strange sensation woke Lilia up. She blearily tried to figure it out: A premonition? No…a wordless notification from her curse (!), politely asking her to head to school early. She jumped gracefully from her bed, absently pulling on a much-reduced school uniform and wondering what this request said about her curse. Quietly padding downstairs, she packed her bag, wrote a note explaining her early departure (she gave the big explanation last night), and grabbed a little food to eat on the way. She stepped out the door, breathed in the brisk early-morning air, and realized something had happened to her clothes, and her awareness of her clothes.

Her mental flailing shook loose two more messages: A reassurance, that she wouldn’t be seen in the way she was worried about, and a pointer to the ‘system assist’ built into the curse, to tell her what actions would match the…something…it was aiming for. (Fully understanding curse-messages of this sort takes practice.) Mollified, she hurried to school, asking more questions along the way.

Upon reaching school, she decided to take the fragments of curse-intention she’d sussed out and make her own suggestion, which it accepted: That she’d go be curious like a cat. Slipping in through a window (panty-flashing an audience of 0 in the process), she wandered towards her homeroom (evading the custodian in the process) and came across an alluring sight: Herself, reflected in a mirror.

Hypnotized by her newfound voluptuousness, she spent a minute looking at different angles of herself, the curse’s slight nudges effectively posing her for a camera, cheeks alight with a mix of embarrassment and a newfound vanity—her original intent as a contractee was to become a foxgirl, to be a bit less plain, and she’d indubitably become a real-life exemplar of the busty fanservice catgirl archetype. The curse offered accessories (and goodwill in return for wearing them), she half-thoughtlessly accepted them, then—her tail jingled. She looked. A pair of beribboned bells had appeared on her tail. Lilia blushed again, annoyed at herself.

Lilia got back to her main goal: Sorting out what the curse meant by ‘your appearance won’t be seen in the way you’re worrying about’. As a test, she considered greeting an early arrival and watching their reaction, but no one would show up for a while. Her wish was granted, in a way: Ms. Pierpont’s cat, the pet that first prompted Lilia to pick ‘foxgirl’ over ‘catgirl’ with its undignified pet-mongering, padded around the corner. They stared at each other for a moment, the cat considering its territory and Lilia realizing how it showed up so reliably. The cat made a decision, and a most definitely dignified and epic battle ensued.

Later: The battle came to a draw, the cat beating a dignified retreat, Livia flat on her back atop the battle’s mess. Then a teacher arrived: Checking on the commotion. They froze…until she let the curse take the lead, putting her hands into a mock-pawing position. “Nyah,” she sheepishly meowed, and bounced up into a squatting position to clean. He smiled, said he’d let this ‘cat moment’ pass, and gave a headpat afterward. It felt good, fulfilling, and that’s what made the pieces snap together.

Lilia nipped over to her friends, started updating them on her curse, and ran into its last trick: Its ability to cancel breaks in its ‘narrative’; to force a certain baseline degree of being the busty fanservice catgirl. Most of the time, that means little—the outfit counts for a lot, and it’s more of an average than a minimum—but direct curse discussion ‘breaks the veil’, changes the context to ‘person plus curse’, all the more so if multiple people are doing it. After a few false starts, Lilia got across the shape of the problem. While enjoyable, ear scritches and a tummy rub couldn’t make it work, the busty fanservice part was needed—and Lilia didn’t want that first impression. Shortly after, the bell rang, and she learned how it handled the general population: They simply knew that this was now the natural situation. (No blame for it, at least, her original worries simply did not apply.) She was now a mixture of student, pet, and, fanservice: There to be sexy, give regular pantyshots (et cetera), and, on occasion, do or permit a bit more.

Edit
Pub: 16 Jun 2022 08:58 UTC
Edit: 20 Jun 2022 17:23 UTC
Views: 76