Getting stuck like this?!!!

"I'll take this one as my room," Virelle said, placing a hand on the edge of the bed as she surveyed the space.

It was one of the larger rooms on the ground floor—equipped with a proper bed, basic furnishings, and little touches that gave it life. A woven carpet underfoot. Clay shelves with carved edges. A curtain fluttering gently by the window, tinted gold by the soft afternoon sun.

Cassy, standing beside her, gave a slight nod of approval. "Understood. You can live here as long as you wish. If you ever want to move to another room, just say so—unless another human breeder ends up sharing this house someday."

The way she said another human breeder made it feel unlikely… or perhaps, significant.

Virelle nodded, her gaze drifting lazily across the room as Cassy quietly exited, the door closing with a soft click behind her. 

Virelle sat down on the bed.

It creaked gently beneath her as she sank into it.

'Oh?'

She shifted slightly, pressing her hand into the mattress.

Soft. Dense. Not fur, but something even better—wool, maybe? It was hard to say whether it came from real sheep or some magical fantasy creature, but it was warm, and the cushion molded around her form perfectly.

A long breath escaped her lips.

'This… was nice.'

Far better than the cot she used to have in her old world's tiny studio apartment.

There was a window on the far end of the room, casting warm light across the floor. A narrow overhang outside shaded the interior—sunlight without glare, warmth without heat. Simple, yet efficient.

'These orcs may build with mud and hay, but damn… they know what they're doing.'

She lay back on the mattress, arms stretched beside her, eyes drifting up to the ceiling—smooth, cool clay tiles with lines of wooden beams cutting across. The faintest breeze drifted downward, carried by the open design of the structure.

'This is… actually kind of peaceful.'

Her mind wandered.

'What now?'

She was in a new world. She had power. A strange new body. And a role defined—breeder.

That word still echoed oddly in her mind. Crude. Dehumanizing. But also… powerful, in a twisted way.

'Should I explore the village?'

The idea sparked a bit of curiosity. The place felt bigger than it looked from the outside. She wanted to know how things worked here. Where people trained. Where they ate. What kind of beasts they rode. Was it only Giant wolves or some other beast were also there.

But then…

'Would they even let me?'

Technically, she wasn't free. Just a glorified slave with special privileges. Melinda had made that clear. And so had Luna—with her cold tone and careful wording.

Her fingers curled slightly into the bedsheet.

Just then, the door creaked open.

"These are some clothes I found that should fit you."

Cassy stepped in, holding a neat stack of garments in her arms—simple, flowing dresses in natural colors. Most were variations of the long frock she wore herself.

Virelle sat up and glanced at the bundle. "I see. Thank you."

Cassy gave a small shake of her head. "No need for thanks. It's part of my job. There are six full sets. You should change soon—your current outfit is almost falling apart."

At that, Virelle glanced down—and grimaced.

She hadn't noticed it before, but now it was obvious. Her slave garb had been shredded from last night's… activities. Most of her cleavage was visible, and she could feel air brushing across her bare back.

There might've been a hole.

Or several.

'Right. I look like a walking wardrobe malfunction.'

And yet… oddly, she didn't feel embarrassed.

Maybe it was her past life habits clashing with her new body, but showing skin didn't bother her the way it should be. After all, back in her old world, a guy walking shirtless wasn't a big deal.

But now… she wasn't exactly a guy anymore.

Still, she kept her cool.

"Thanks for letting me know. I'll change into something decent."

Cassy gave a courteous nod. "Would you like assistance, or will you manage on your own?"

Virelle raised an eyebrow.

She thought for a second, then replied, "I'll try by myself first. If I need help… I'll call you."

"Alright," Cassy said. "I'll wait just outside."

With that, she turned on her heel and stepped out, gently closing the door behind her.

Virelle was left alone in the quiet room, the soft rustle of leaves outside her window the only sound.

A strange peace hung in the air.

She stared at the clothes for a moment… then at her own body.

"Well, let's just change into something decent."

She muttered to herself, fingers tugging at the frayed edge of her slave garb. The fabric, already weakened from last night's… events, clung stubbornly as she pulled it over her head—until it caught awkwardly at the collar.

"Ugh—seriously?"

With a bit more force, she yanked it free, hearing a sharp rip as the neckline tore wider than intended. She held it up in front of her, strands of cloth dangling like sad little tassels.

"Well, it's totally useless as clothing now."

Tossing the ruined garment aside, she now stood bare and unbothered. Her soft cock hung gently between legs, while her breasts—full and heavy—rested naturally on her chest, each crowned with a round, brown nipple that caught the warm light from the window.

She glanced at the table.

Cassy had laid the clothes out neatly, folded with care. Most of them looked nearly identical—plain, earthy tunics in light brown hues. The only difference seemed to be the small, stitched patterns along the hems: swirls, stripes, simple embroidery.

'Is this the natural color of the cloth?'

She tilted her head slightly, scanning the lineup again. Every piece was some variation of beige or tan. A bit dull… but not ugly.

She didn't dwell too long on it. With a small sigh, she reached out and picked one.

It was a single-piece frock, loose and airy, with a string-tied waist that could be cinched tight. She stepped into it and began pulling it up, but halfway through—just as the fabric covered her face—it got stuck.

"Wait, what the—"

The frock tugged tightly at her head, refusing to budge. She wriggled a bit, arms flailing above her, before realizing the issue.

'Oh… buttons.'

Apparently, there were a few fastened at the collar that she hadn't noticed before slipping it on. Now the top half had turned into a cloth trap, squeezing her like a slow, dignified python.

She let out a sigh into the fabric.

"Figures."

As she pulled the tunic upward, a sharp sting shot through her scalp.

"Ow—what the…?"

She froze.

Her fingers moved up carefully—and there it was. A button had somehow snagged a few strands of her hair. She tried to tug gently, but the cloth was bunched between her head and the knot, making it impossible to see or reach properly.

"Of course…"

She let out a frustrated breath and, seeing no other option, hiked the frock higher, pushing the hem up until it bunched just beneath her chest. 

Then, ducking slightly, she slipped both hands upward from underneath—reaching blindly through the interior to free her hair from where it had snagged.

The motion left her completely exposed from the shoulders down. Her full hips shifted with quiet urgency, and her breasts—soft, heavy, and unrestrained—jiggled with each fumble and twist. 

The tunic hung limply around her upper body like a sack trapped over her head, the sleeves flopped somewhere near her ears, while she wrestled awkwardly with buttons she couldn't even see.

Her soft cock, in its usual turtle-neck state, swayed gently from side to side—almost as if protesting her struggle. With every shift of her hips, it bobbed lazily, moving left and right in quiet defiance of her flailing arms above.

She stood there, half-naked, arms awkwardly stretched up inside the tunic as she fumbled blindly at the back of her head.

What should've taken seconds turned into minutes.

Every time she tried to pull one strand loose, two more got caught. The cloth shifted, dragging her hair deeper into the button loop. By the time she realized what was happening, the situation had gotten worse.

Much worse.

"Are you kidding me…?"

Her entire head was now halfway jammed into the tunic, and the tangled hair made it impossible to push through or pull out. She was bent over slightly, hands up inside the fabric, body fully exposed from the neck down—and completely stuck.

"Seriously… what the fuck?"

The muffled curse escaped her lips just as the door creaked open before her.

Cassy had been waiting just outside, arms crossed patiently at first. But when several minutes passed—five, then ten—without a sound, concern replaced protocol.

She stepped in quietly, then froze at the sight before her.

Virelle stood in the middle of the room, caught mid-motion. The tunic was wrapped halfway over her head like a limp sack, her arms raised outside it in a desperate attempt to free herself. 

Her bare breasts bounced slightly with each subtle movement, her hips jiggled and between her legs, the soft curve of her chocolate-hued shaft hung exposed, completely unobstructed.

"…What happened?" Cassy asked carefully, though her eyes instinctively lingered—on the flushed curves and that inviting soft cock.

"I'm fine," Virelle growled from inside the tunic, her voice muffled and sharp. "Totally fine. Just… having a heartfelt bonding moment with this stupid piece of clothing."

Cassy blinked.

"…Shall I assist?"

"Please."