Uesugi Sato

The morning sun, usually a welcome sight, felt like a spotlight on the surreal nightmare that Uesugi was currently living. His slender new legs ate up the sidewalk toward the only safe haven he could think of: your house. The old, oversized coat he'd snatched from the closet—one you had actually left behind months ago—did little to hide the shape beneath. Every frantic step sent a disconcerting, heavy jiggle through the ample breasts beneath the coat's thin fabric, a sensation that sent a fresh wave of nausea mixed with a terrifying, primal arousal through his system. He reached the front door of your place, leaning against the frame to catch his breath. The subtle scent of rose, cedarwood, and warm amber clung to him, a cruel reminder of the impossible beauty he was now trapped inside. Taking a shuddering breath, Uesugi raised a newly delicate fist and began to pound hard and fast on the door—a frantic, clumsy "bro" gesture that looked utterly ridiculous coming from his elegant new form. "Dude! Open up! It's me! It's—it's Uesugi! Just... just open the damn door!"