Chapter Two

Emily eased the heavy front door shut behind her with the softest click she could manage. She felt dirty and disgusting, her thighs stuck together with every careful step, the dried evidence of last night still clinging to her skin beneath the shredded pink crop top and ruined tartan skirt. She tasted smoke and something saltier on her tongue, and the ache between her legs throbbed in time with her pulse. If she could just reach the stairs without waking anyone, she could scrub herself raw in the shower, remove this horrifying makeup, and maybe she could pretend none of this ever happened.

That hope disappeared in an instant when a throat cleared in the shadows of the foyer.

Emily’s mom, Hanna Tanaka, stood at the foot of the staircase in her silk robe, her arms folded so tightly the fabric strained across her chest. Her eyes, usually warm and laughing, had gone hard as winter glass. “Where have you been all night, Emily?” she barked at her daughter.

Emily felt sick. She wanted to tell her mom the truth. She wanted to warn her mom about the Yakuza mob’s impending danger and how Kenji was controlling her, but as she opened her mouth, she found herself unable to say a word. “I was out,” was all she could manage.

“Out?” Hanna repeated the word as though tasting something stale. “You don’t go out, Emily. I’ve been worried sick about you, and now you come back at seven in the morning, smelling like an ashtray, and looking like some cheap American whore.” The woman was furious. “Your father lands from Tokyo this afternoon. Do you have any idea what he is going to say when he finds out about this?”

Emily tried again. “Mom, please, I can explain—”

“Then explain,” the middle-aged woman stepped closer, her nostrils flaring. “Explain the cheap hair. Explain those ridiculous lips; like what have you done to them? Explain why my daughter, my straight-A perfect daughter, walked through the door looking like a streetwalker who’s just been drilled by half the town?”

Heat flooded the young woman’s cheeks. She wanted to scream that none of it was her choice, that a monster had somehow rewired her body during detention to obey, but the moment the thought formed, her tongue went thick and useless. She was unable to break one of Kenji’s earlier commands. Instead, she heard herself make an excuse. “It’s just a new look. Everyone’s doing it.”

Hanna’s hand cracked across her daughter’s cheek before Emily even saw it coming. “Do not lie to me, Emily!” The woman’s voice shook. “ Have spent years watching you blossom into a sensible and prideful young woman. You are too smart to follow a slutty fad. You do not wake up one morning and decide to look like that. Something happened to you, and you are going to tell me what.”

Emily’s cheeks burned. Tears welled in her eyes, but the controlling gag order held her silent. All the blonde could do was shake her head.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. Keep your secrets. Your father will be here when you get home from school, and you can explain all this to him.” She gestured at Emily’s ruined outfit, the exposed midriff, the skirt that barely covered anything. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

Emily took that as an opportunity and fled up the stairs. She locked her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it, her chest heaving in panic. The mirror across the room caught her reflection, and she nearly gagged. Blonde waves, fake-tanned skin, swollen, glossy lips. She looked like someone else entirely.

The student tore at her crop top, yanked it over her head, and hurled it across the room. The skirt followed. Naked, she bolted for the en-suite bathroom and twisted the shower to baking hot. Steam billowed around her as she stepped in. She washed herself clean, rubbing the dry remains from her sore body until she finally felt somewhat human again. She then moved to her face and attacked it with soap, pads, and various scrubbers. She rubbed until her skin stung, but as she stared at her reflection in the glass, she discovered that nothing had come off. Not the thick black wings, not the glittery pink shadow, not the glossy stain on her mouth. Turning the shower off, she tried again with micellar water, then cleansing oil, then straight acetone. The colors stayed perfect, mocking her.

Next came the nails. She grabbed a set of nail clippers from her vanity drawer and clamped them around one pink acrylic nail. She pushed harder and harder until the metal bent; the nail didn’t even chip. She tried the next, and the next, until the ruined clippers clattered to the tile. The nails gleamed, long and perfect, and most importantly, unbreakable.

What the hell had that stylist bitch done to her body? Emily wondered. Shaking her head and glancing up at the clock, the student headed for her wardrobe. She needed to reassert some semblance of control. If she were forced to show up to work wearing a face full of slutty makeup, she would cover up the rest of her body as much as she could.

After putting on her underwear, she pulled a white blouse from its hanger. She slowly buttoned the baggy shirt up, happy that she was actually able to control her body. She then pulled up a long, knee-length navy skirt, settling the hem around her waist. The blonde took the matching blue blazer and slipped it over her shoulders, buttoning up the lower two buttons. She stared in the mirror and gasped at the oxymoron her body presented. Her hair, face, and nails screamed attention slut, whereas the rest of her body was understated and modest. She may be able to get away with this, she thought to herself. For one brief moment, the new blonde felt human again.

Emily slung her bag over her shoulder, took a steadying breath, and headed downstairs. Her mother was nowhere to be seen this time. The student slipped her navy flat shoes on at the genkan and opened the front door, ready to face the world again.

The young woman stepped forward, only to be halted in her tracks by a wiry figure standing in the doorway. The Japanese-American’s eyes widened as she saw Kenji standing before her, cigarette glowing between his fingers, a glossy pink shopping bag dangling from his other hand. He took one slow drag, his eyes raking over the modest uniform his target wore, and smiled like a wolf who had cornered dinner.

“Morning, princess. Cute outfit.” He flicked ash onto the porchway and lifted the bag. “But it’s time to get changed properly for school.”

Emily’s heart sank in her stomach. She wanted to scream and run away, but as her hand reached for the bag, she knew her body was going to obey his every word, and she was going to hate every minute of it.

❖

Emily tottered through the academy gates, fury blazing behind her eyes, while a group of third years in their early twenties, sprawled across the grassy mound, froze mid-laugh. Their mouths hung open as they watched her pass, one boy’s juice slipping from his fingers and splattering across the lawn unnoticed.

The uniform Kenji had forced her into left her with no modesty. A tiny white sailor top, knotted just below her modest breasts, strained against her chest and exposed the lower curve of each small pale mound with every step. The pleated navy skirt barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, riding high enough that the white lace of her thigh-high stockings flashed constantly. Six-inch clear platform heels turned every step into a hip-rolling performance, and the absence of anything beneath the skirt meant the cool morning air kissed skin that had never seen public daylight before the last couple of days.

The scantily-clad school council president felt every stare like fingers dragging across her body, and her cheeks flushed with humiliation. Whispers followed the blonde down the path, growing louder the further toward the building she walked, yet no one dared speak directly to her. The old confidence that had gained her so much respect amongst her peers was replaced by the sick certainty that everyone could see exactly what she had become.

Emily clutched her school bag against her hip as though it might shield her embarrassment and made straight for the cafeteria. The young woman hadn’t eaten breakfast before she left home, and she was starving. She also knew her best friend, Natsumi, would be there, and if anyone would show her sympathy, it would be her.

The double doors of the cafeteria swung open, and conversation inside stuttered into silence. It felt like the entire world stood still to watch the sluttily dressed Japanese woman enter the facility. Emily kept moving, her chin high, refusing to let her peers see her crumbling. She collected a tray, loaded it with rice and miso, and walked toward the corner table she had shared with Natsumi every morning for three years.

Natsumi didn’t pay her friend any attention for a moment, her narrow eyes fixed on her phone. Eventually, she looked up from her screen, a smile already forming, until she saw what looked like a slutty strange sit opposite her. “Ugh, who the hell are you?” she barked.

Emily’s stomach twisted. How did her own best friend not recognize her? “It’s me, Natsumi,” she said softly. “It’s Emily.”

The friend’s chopsticks froze halfway to her mouth. The color drained from her face, then rushed back in a furious blush. “Emily?” she panted in disbelief. “What have you done to yourself? I saw you yesterday, and you didn’t look like this.”

The council president set her tray down with her bright pink nails. “I know it’s quite a change, but there’s an explanation, and it’s really important.”

Natsumi leaned forward, her voice dripping to a fierce whisper. “Then tell me. What happened last night?”

Emily opened her mouth and, just like with her mother, felt the gag order slam shut, forbidding her from telling those she cared about what was really going on with her. The truth surged up her throat and died there. Instead, a breezy lie slipped out before she could stop it. “I wanted a change. That’s all there is to it.”

Her friend stared as though Emily had grown a second head. “A change? You let someone bleach your hair, pump up your lips, and dress you like some pornstar for school because you wanted a change?” Natsumi’s voice rose with every word. “You hated girls who looked like this; we both did. You called them shallow and desperate, and a shame to Japanese culture. What happened to you?”

Emily groaned. Her friend’s words stung. She tried again with all her might, forcing the words past the invisible barrier, and it felt like she had made progress. “Something happened during detention yesterday. I cannot control—”

However, she couldn’t keep it up, and the sentence twisted mid-air. “I cannot control how good it feels to finally be noticed.” She heard herself finish, the lie hitting her stomach with a punch.

The Japanese friend recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “Who the hell are you, and what have you done with Emily?” She stood so fast her chair screeched backwards. “Do not sit with me again until you remember who you really are.” The student grabbed her bag and walked away without looking back.

Emily stared at the empty seat with an open mouth in shock, her chest hollow. The whispers around her grew louder as nearby students spoke about the scene that took place before them.

Suddenly, a large figure dropped into the seat Natsumi had abandoned.

Emily looked up and found her hated tormentor, Kenji, grinning back at her, elbows resting on the table as though he owned the entire space she occupied. The blonde student shoved her tray aside and started to rise. She didn’t want to be anywhere near this evil asshole.

“Sit back down and smile while we chat,” he said quietly.

The student’s legs folded instantly as she was forced to retake her seat. Her lips curved into a bright, obedient smile that made the woman want to scream. Why couldn’t she control her own god damn actions?

The young Yakuza member leaned back and studied the forced smile on her heavily made-up face with open amusement. “Forget about that bitch,” he said, his voice low enough so only she could hear. “She was holding you back anyway. Don’t worry, doll. I’m going to find you some much better friends.”

As if the cafeteria itself had been waiting for his cue, two large men slid onto the bench beside her, one on each side. The redhead on her left wore a black tank top stretched tight over his thick muscles, ink crawling from his collarbone to his jaw. The bald one on her right had shoulders that crowded her in, his arms decorated in coiled dragons and kanji that disappeared beneath the fabric. Both smelled of sweat and cigarettes.

Emily tried to shrink away, but the bench offered no escape, and Kenji’s command kept her perched on her ass.

“Seriously, what do you want from me? Haven’t you done enough?!” she spat out, not caring about who overheard.

Kenji shook his head slowly, the smile never leaving his face as he acted disappointed. “You shouldn’t be so rude to your friends, princess.”

Emily glared at him with her fists clenched on the table, yet her body stayed perfectly still, that fake smile still plastered across her swollen lips.

The ringleader leaned over and tilted his chin toward the redhead on the woman’s left. “Say hello to your newest friends, princess. This is Ryo,” before turning his head to the bald man. “And this is Kaito on your right. How about you greet them like a proper friend should? Tell them just how excited you are to meet them before giving them a nice, deep kiss.”

Kenji grinned widely as he watched the blonde’s eyes widen. He could see she was fighting the command with every ounce of her will, but the hypnosis held strong. He saw her torso already turning, her manicured hand sliding up Ryo’s tattooed neck as if it belonged there.

“Hi, Ryo. I’m so excited to meet you,” she heard herself purr as if she was watching herself follow a script without any invitation of her own, the words dripping with honey she didn’t feel.

Emily pressed her glossy mouth to his. Ryo wasted no time. His tongue pushed past her lips, claiming her roughly while his thick fingers dug into her bare waist. Emily’s body kissed him back eagerly, a soft moan escaping her throat that made half the cafeteria stop what they were doing and choke on their breakfast.

The blonde pulled away only long enough to turn to Kaito. “Hi, Kaito,” she said. “I’ve been dying to meet you.” Suddenly, her lips were on his, open and hungry, letting his filthy tongue explore while his hand slid straight under the knotted sailor top to cup her bare breast. His thumb brushed her nipple, and her traitorous body arched into the touch.

When Emily finally faced forward again, her cheeks flaming as the smile returned to her face, Kenji looked like a man admiring his favorite new toy. “Good girl,” he said softly. “See how easy that was?”

Emily wanted to spit in his face, but she knew he held the keys right now. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked desperately.

Kenji leaned in until she could smell the tobacco on his breath. “Because the Yakuza are taking this school back, Emily. Everything that defines your brother’s legacy will be dismantled and rebuilt. And you, little miss student council president, are going to be the star of the show.”

Kenji sat back, allowing his words to stew in the young woman’s mind. He checked the clock above the serving counter. “Ohh, time for Math,” he announced pleasantly. “You’d better run along, princess. Oh, and make sure you do everything your teacher tells you.”

The Yakuza man stood, the two men beside the blonde rising with him. Ryo gave her thigh a final, possessive squeeze before they sauntered off, leaving the blonde student trembling in the middle of the cafeteria.

After the men left, Emily was finally able to stand again. The platform heels forced her hips into an uncomfortable position, her tiny skirt fluttering like an attention-seeking flag as she tottered out of the room. She walked out of the cafeteria and down the corridor toward the mathematics building, every stare branding her skin.

She had wanted to disappear.

Instead, she had become the main attraction, and the show was only just beginning.

❖

The blonde honor student pushed through the classroom door, and every head swiveled toward her at once. The pre-class chatter died down in an instant, and the room went deathly quiet. Thirty pairs of eyes locked on the knotted sailor top, the skirt that barely existed, the towering platforms that perched the Gyaru lookalike up high. She felt everyone staring at her plump lips and heavily made-up face, and it made her feel sick.

She walked to her usual front-row seat, although it suddenly felt like a stage for attention she no longer wanted. Math had always been a safe haven for the intelligent Japanese-American, and now she looked like she belonged literally anywhere else. The blonde lowered herself into her seat carefully, the skirt riding up higher the moment she sat, cool air kissing the inside of her thighs.

The bell rang to signal the start of class. No one moved.

Mr. Sato entered a moment later, and the silence thickened. However, for once, the attention wasn’t on the scantily clad woman. The older man walked in with a noticeable limp that hadn’t been there yesterday, favoring his left leg. Fresh bruises darkened his jaw, and when he turned to his desk to set down his briefcase, the collar of his shirt shifted just enough to reveal the edge of a new irezumi, black ink stark against his pale skin. He placed the briefcase down with a thud that sounded too loud in the quiet.

The man faced the class, his eyes scanning the audience. They rested on Emily before darting to the rest of the students.

“Today we begin the study of partial derivatives,” he announced flatly. “I shall require an assistant to distribute materials and keep the lesson moving smoothly today. Any volunteers?”

No hands rose. After Mr. Sato’s antics yesterday, no one dared put themselves in his cross-hairs. Strange events were occurring recently, and no one wanted to be part of them.

Mr. Sato’s gaze settled on Emily in the front row again. “Tanaka-chan. You will assist me.”

Emily’s eyes widened. Tanaka-chan? He had never called her that before. She was an adult, and using the term was disrespectful in a professional setting. However, her legs didn’t appear to care about any of that as they immediately rose from the chair. Her feet carried her to the front of the room with the same obedient sway she had fought all morning. When Kenji told her to do everything her teacher told her to do, her conditioning took that as a binding command. “Sato-sensei, I’m not sure you require an assistant,” she said as she stood beside him.

The teacher didn’t even glance at her. He reached into his briefcase and drew out a narrow strip of pink leather. A small silver tag swung from the center, the words GYARU ASSISTANT stamped in block glitter.

“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Emily’s body obeyed before her mind could register the command. She pivoted on the ridiculous heels, presenting the back of her neck. Cool fingers brushed her skin as the choker circled her throat and fastened with a soft clit. The blonde hadn’t even seen what was written on the tag now settled just above her collarbone, but she wore the collar nonetheless.

The older math professor placed a stack of worksheets into the bemused student’s hands, followed by a tray of pencils in the other. “Distribute these,” he said. “One to each student. Make sure every desk receives a copy.” He leaned in, whispering so no one else could hear. “Make sure you bend at the hip and stick your ass out each time.” His eyes were cold. What the hell had happened to him?

The blonde’s body bent forward at the first desk, her hips tilting back exactly as the man she used to respect had ordered. The tiny skirt lifted with the motion, flashing the lower curve of her ass, and a brief glimpse of her bare pussy to those who got down low enough. A sharp intake of breath rippled through the front row. What the hell was going on lately? They collectively wondered. This school was changing. Emily placed a worksheet and a pencil down, straightened, then moved to the next desk and repeated the performance.

Each bend exposed the student council president completely. The classroom air felt cold against her skin, and she could sense every pair of eyes tracing the path from her thighs to the glimpse of pink between them. By the time she reached the back row, her face burned hotter than the humiliation burning in her chest.

Emily returned to Mr Sato’s side and waited, her hands clasped in front of her, the stack now empty.

The teacher didn’t even look at her. “Kneel beside the desk,” he said, loud enough for the room to hear. “You will remain there until I require you again.” His words were cold and authoritative, and Emily knew something was wrong with him.

Her body didn’t care, however, and her feet tottered over to Mr. Sato’s desk as her knees met the hard tile without any input from the scantily-clad blonde. The skirt rode even higher as she sat on her heels. Her cheeks blushed as she looked out at the students. They looked stunned and gormless. The blonde felt so much shame that she lowered her head, averting their gaze.

Mr. Sato began the lesson, his voice carrying the same precise cadence it always had, yet every word sounded forced as he walked around on his limp. Whenever he needed his board cleaned, he snapped his fingers and gave the order. Emily stood and stretched upward on the platforms, wiping the surface clean. Her reach exposed the lower swell of her small breasts to the entire class, eliciting a murmur each time she did it. Emily sank back to her knees beside the desk afterwards without being told.

Halfway through the period, the teacher required homework to be collected. The blonde stood again, walked down the aisles, and bent at every desk. The young men and women passed their notes to her, some of the men obviously struggling to focus as she robotically moved through the glass. One sheet slipped to the floor as she approached the front. When Emily bent to retrieve it, the skirt pulled up entirely, offering the room a full, unobstructed view of her pussy like the respectable classroom was a porn set. A choked sound escaped someone in the back. The blond gathered the stack, returned to the front, and knelt once more.

Mr. Saro never thanked the woman once. He never acknowledged her as he taught the remaining students while she knelt obediently beside him. He simply used her, the way one might use a pointer or a stool, something that only existed to serve the lesson.

When the bell finally rang, the students filed out as quickly as possible. Although the male students visibly enjoyed the new dynamic, none of them wanted to fall foul of Mr. Sato’s new personality. Emily stayed on her knees, her body somehow not allowing her to move.

Mr. Sato closed the door after the last student left. He then slowly approached the kneeling blonde, prompting her to shudder in anticipation. He crouched beside the woman, his voice barely above a whisper, much softer than he had spoken during the lesson. “I am sorry, Emily,” he said quietly, glancing around as though he was worried someone was watching. “They have my wife. If I disobey them, they will kill her. I don’t have a choice.”

Emily stared at him, her eyes still blazing with fury even as the teacher explained why he had done what he had done. He was protecting his wife, and she was the trade-off. She wanted to slap him, even though she knew most men would have done precisely the same thing.

Mr. Sato stood quickly, smoothing his shirt as he glanced around again. “Stay there until the next class begins,” he said loud enough for anyone secretly listening in to hear. Then he walked out, leaving the blonde kneeling alone on the cold tile, the tag GYARU ASSISTANT glinting with every breath.

❖

The final bell rang to signal the end of the final lesson of the day. The chairs scraped as second-years scrambled to escape the room, their eyes fixed on the floor, none daring to look at the kneeling blonde beside the teacher’s desk.

Mr. Sato waited until the last student disappeared through the doorway. Only then did he shut the door and turn to face his ‘assistant.’ He limped over to Emily and crouched beside her, his knees cracking. His bruised face hovered inches from hers, and his expression softened.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered with regret. “They promised they would return my wife if I followed every instruction they gave me. As soon as she is safe, I will find a way to fix this. I swear it.”

Emily stared back in silence. She could have probably shouted at him and cussed the man out, but she just wanted to be let go and be on her way, and she focused on that.

The teacher swallowed hard as he continued. “That’s all for the day, so I can finally let you go,” he began, starting to rise. “You are dis—”

Suddenly, the classroom door swung open without a knock.

Kenji strolled in casually, his hands planted firmly in his pockets as a lazy grin stretched across his face. The Yakuza man kicked the door shut behind him before approaching the scene before him.

Mr. Sato shot upright so fast he nearly toppled, all color drained from his battered cheeks.

Kenji tilted his head, studying the older man like a cat watching a cornered, terrified mouse. “You did well today, Han,” he said, using the professor’s first name. “So, a question. After today, are you still loyal to the Tanaka family, old man?”

Mr. Sato’s mouth opened and closed twice before sound emerged. He knew he was being tested, and he couldn’t afford to risk his wife’s safety now. “The family means nothing to me,” he forced out, his words tasting like ash. He glanced down at the kneeling woman. “She means nothing to me.”

Kenji’s grin widened. “Is that so?” he teased. “Prove it.”

He stepped forward, pulled out a wide black ring gag from his jacket pocket as though it was the most natural thing in the world to possess one, and dangled it in front of Emily’s face. She turned her head away in protest.

“Look straight ahead, keep those eyes open, and open that pretty mouth wide, Princess,” he commanded.

Emily’s head immediately snapped forward, her eyes wide open, jaw dropping in perfect obedience. A thin string of saliva strung between her upper and lower lip as they forced themselves apart.

The antagonist slowly slid the thick rubber ring between her teeth, stretching her painted, swollen lips wide around it. The buckle clicked tight behind her head, locking her jaw in a perfect, helpless circle.

Kenji stepped back and turned to Mr. Sato. “You’ve spent years watching those enticing lips correct you on your mistakes,” he grinned. “When we both know all you wanted to do was push your cock between that self-righteous mouth. You can stop pretending now.”

Mr. Sato’s hands shook at his sides. His eyes flicked from Kenji to Emily’s gagged mouth and back again. “Please,” he whispered. “I did everything you asked of me today. Do not make me do this.”

The gangster chuckled and lifted his phone, wagging it back and forth. “Sure, but it means I’ll have to make a phone call,” he said softly as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “One call is all it takes before my men send you one of your wife’s fingers in the mail tomorrow. Bear with me while I call them up.”

The teacher’s entire body trembled. “Stop!” he declared, glancing down at Emily on hr knees, mouth stretched obscenely wide, eyes blazing with hatred and helplessness, before glancing at the floor in shame. “I’ll do it.”

Han Sato’s belt buckle clinked open. The zipper rasped as he freed himself from his shaking hands, already rigid despite his shame. The head of his dick brushed Emily’s lower lip as he wasted no time guiding it through the ring.

The first thrust was hesitant, almost apologetic. Emily’s throat convulsed around the intrusion, but the command kept her perfectly still, jaw locked wide, eyes fixed forward, forced to stare at her teacher fucking her mouth. Mr. Sato closed his eyes and pushed deeper.

The teacher’s rhythm built quickly, guilt and need warring in every stroke. He kept telling himself that he was doing this for his family, but he couldn’t deny that having his cock inside his star student’s warm mouth wasn’t a fantasy of his. Each thrust drove the man to the back of Emily’s throat, the rubber ring stretching her lips obscenely around his shaft. His fingers tangled in the kneeling woman’s platinum hair, gripping tight as if to anchor himself against what he was doing. Emily’s body accepted every inch, her throat fluttering helplessly to accommodate him while her mind screamed in fury.

Kenji watched with his arms folded, his expression unreadable as he stared at the scene unfolding before him.

Mr. Sato’s hips jerked faster, gasping as if he was nearing climax. His grip tightened in the woman’s hair, knuckles white. A broken groan tore from his chest as he started to convulse. He realized his orgasm was approaching and released the woman’s hair, starting to pull out as he didn’t want to enhance her humiliation any further.

Kenji moved faster than the teacher. His palm slammed between Mr. Sato’s shoulder blades and shoved the teacher forward, burying every inch of his dick back into her throat.

Han cried out in shock, his hips jerking helplessly as the first thick pulse of cum shot straight down Emily’s gullet. Kenji held him there, his fingers digging into the older man’s neck, forcing him to empty himself completely while Emily’s throat convulsed around the invading shaft. Tears streaked her glittery cheeks, although the water never messed up her semi-permanent makeup, but her body never struggled, Kenji’s old command keeping her perfectly still and looking ahead.

Only when the last shudder left Mr. Sato’s body did Kenji release him. The teacher stumbled back, cock slipping free with a wet sound, cum and saliva bridging from Emily’s stretched, well-used lips to his softening member before breaking.

The teacher crashed against his desk for a moment, slowly readjusting himself as his cheeks burned with shame. “My wife,” he rasped. “You promised to release her if I did what you said.”

The Yakuza man wiped his hand with a handkerchief as though he had touched something dirty. “She’s safe,” he said casually. “However, we will be keeping hold of her for a while longer to ensure you stay compliant.”

Mr. Sato’s face crumpled. “You said—”

Kenji cut him off with a lazy wave. “I said she’s safe. I never said when she comes home. Now, be a good dog and keep following our orders. We’ll talk again soon.”

The teacher opened his mouth, but the expression on Kenji’s face made it clear the conversation was over. He nodded, giving a faint bow, before turning and stumbling out of the room, the door banging shut behind him,

Silence fell between the two remaining occupants. Kenji crouched in front of his tormented toy, tilting her chin up with two fingers. Her eyes blazed with pure hatred, but her body remained perfectly still, just as he had ordered.

He studied the woman for a long moment, his thumb brushing the drool in the corner of her plump mouth. “This conditioning really is excellent,” he gloated, before shifting his tone. “The academy belongs to the Yakuza now, princess. We have taken over more than fifty percent of the teaching staff, and my brother has just been installed as the new headmaster.”

He grinned as his words sank in.

“Yes, my brother walked out of prison this morning,” he smiled. “He was let out for good behavior, and the board appointed him as headmaster an hour ago, after a little encouragement. He can’t wait to meet the famous Emily Tanaka, sister of Alex Tanaka, in person.”

He reached into his jacket again and produced an item that made Emily garble a protest through her gagged lips. She tried to fight the command to stay still as the syringe in his hand moved closer, but the conditioning held firm.

“But first,” the Yakuza man smiled, “The fourth-year med students have a graduation project to finish. They’re excited to meet you.”

The blonde thrashed inside her own skin, every muscle screaming to run, to fight, to bite, but the commands held her frozen on her knees like a doll waiting to be played with.

Kenji pressed the needle against the side of her neck. “Sweet dreams, princess,” he whispered.

The plunger depressed. Warmth flooded the trapped woman’s veins before darkness rushed in and swallowed everything, leaving the student council president unconscious.

❖

Emily’s eyes fluttered open, slow and heavy, as though someone had glued the lids together. A dull throb pulsed behind her temples, and her tongue felt thick, coated with the sour ghost of chemicals. Every limb on her body weighed a thousand pounds; even lifting a finger took effort that made her want to sink back into the dark.

The blonde tried to swallow and discovered her throat felt dry, as though she hadn’t drunk for days. A strange, unfamiliar, and heavy weight pressed against her chest, as though someone had placed heavy gym barbells on top of her to prevent her from getting up. The sensation tugged at her skin as she shifted, pulling in ways her body had never known before. She sat up slightly, and the weight moved with her.

Her legs felt wrong too; smooth, slippery, and an increase in sensitivity that made her shudder and gasp. She consciously tried to close her mouth, only to be greeted by a sharp, electric jolt that shot straight to her clit. The sensation was so intense that her hips jerked involuntarily. The pleasure was immediate, overwhelming, and incredibly confusing for the young honor student. She forced her lips apart again, and the feeling vanished. The moment she pressed her lips together once more, the same electric sensation returned. What the hell was going on?

Emily blinked, willing her vision to clear. White, sterile walls swam into focus. She definitely wasn’t in the classroom any longer, but where was she? Her head lolled to the side, and she realized she lay on a padded table, arms limp at her side as her body was covered in a thick, white sheet.

As her head moved to the side, the Japanese-American noticed five young men in white lab coats standing in a neat line to the right of her bed, staring silently down at her. None of them spoke. None of them even blinked.

Panic clawed through the young woman. “What’s going on?” Her face came out thick, slightly slurred, and an unexpected jolt of pleasure ran through her body as her lips touched to speak. “What happened to me? Mmph!” She asked, feeling the same electric sensation.

Suddenly, slow clapping echoed from the doorway and prompted Emily to twist her head in that direction. What she saw made her feel sick. Kenji strolled in, his hands coming together in a deliberate, mocking applause. What had he done to her now? She disliked the way he looked at her sheet-laden body with open satisfaction.

“Gentlemen,” he said to the silent students, ignoring the panicked blonde in the bed. “Our beauty is awake, and now it’s time to view the results and give you your final grading.”

The authoritative man reached the side of the bed and gripped the edge of the white sheet. With one smooth tug, he whipped it away, letting the fabric fall to the floor and revealing Emily in her totally naked glory.

Emily’s breath stopped dead as she looked up in horror. The ceiling had a long, reflective mirror, and the view of herself in it made her feel like she was living some nightmare. The reflection staring back at her was no longer Emily Tanaka.

Two enormous, perfectly round breasts dominated the image, impossible high and firm even as she lay on her back, the skin stretched glossy and tight over blatant silicone that thrust upward like twin offerings. Her nipples sat on the round obscenities, high and stiff, surrounded by wide, areolae that looked almost painted on. Below them, her waist dipped dramatically before flaring into wide hips, almost as if her hip bones had somehow been augmented. Every inch of skin from the woman’s collarbone to her toes glowed in the same deep, unnatural bronze, now completely smooth and hairless.

Just above the bare mound of Emily’s pussy, a new bold black tattoo lay with Japanese lettering, declaring YAKUZA USE ONLY, with a thick arrow pointing straight down to her slit. She couldn’t see it yet, but her lower back had been adorned with the same art, mirrored perfectly for staring at her from behind, only the words PUBLIC USE were used with an arrow pointing to her asshole.

Her eyes drifted back up to her face, where her lips, now swollen far beyond the plumper she had received at the salon the previous evening, glistened wet and parted slightly in a permanent invitation. As she gasped, her lower lip accidentally touched the upper lip again, and a lightning bolt of pleasure made the transformed woman convulse on the bed, forcing a helpless gasp from her throat. She parted her lips again, and the tense pleasure ceased.

Kenji’s grin widened as he watched the horror bloom in his toy’s face. “This might be my favorite feature. It’s made from a special serum produced right here,” he said, tapping her obscene lower lip with a single finger, pushing it up to her upper lip, prompting her to gasp in ecstasy and shock. “Your upper and lower lips are wired directly to that greedy little clit of yours. If they touch each other, even for a moment, you’ll receive orgasm-level shocks. I guess you’ll need to keep them parted if you ever want to think clearly.” He chuckled. “The boys did a marvellous job.”

One of the med students stepped forward, pride shining in his eyes. “We also completed permanent follicular destruction below the neck and the requested tattoo placement. The mammary implants are the newest silicone hybrid, eight hundred and fifty CCs each with an internal bra. She will never need a bra again.

Kenji clapped his appreciation before the lead medical student continued. “The lip serum is permanent and self-replenishing. She’ll spend the rest of her life keeping that perfect O-face unless she wants to cum instantly. We haven’t designed an antidote yet.”

Kenji’s laughter was like daggers in Emily’s ears. “Beautiful work, men. I will be giving you all passing grades.”

He bent over and tossed the tiny sailor uniform onto the bed beside the transformed woman. The same knotted top and belt-sized skirt she had worn earlier, an outfit that was sure to become even more obscene thanks to her new assets.

“Get dressed,” he ordered casually. “It’ll be a better fit now.”

Emily’s body moved instantly before her mind could refuse. She sat up, those impossible breasts barely moving with the motion. Her hands gathered the sailor top and pulled it over her head. The knot barely tied beneath the massive, new implants, the fabric stretching so thin her nipples poked visibly through the white cotton. The skirt came next; she stood up and stepped into it, tugging it up her wider hips. The hem sat even higher now to accommodate the new size, and her new bald pussy was practically on display. While the skirt partially covered up her front tattoo, it did nothing to cover the ‘public use’ tattoo above her derriere.

The five students watched every second with hungry eyes, as though the view was their reward for a job well done. One man even openly adjusted his pants.

Kenji stepped back and placed his hand on his chin. “Put your shoes back on and twirl for us. Let us see the full effect.”

Emily’s body obeyed again, and she stepped into the clear platforms, the six-inch lift thrusting her hips forward and forcing her new breasts to jut obscenely against the knotted sailor top. The skirt fluttered up with the motion, flashing the fresh tattoo above her mound to the room before settling back into its useless strip of fabric.

She began to turn. One slow, perfect rotation. The heavy implants barely shifted, sitting impossibly high and round, stretching the white cotton so tight her nipples printed lips coins. From behind, the skirt lifted just enough to present the bold PUBLIC USE arrow pointing straight between her cheeks. The heavy makeup on her face remained the entire time, making her bigger lips look even more obscene in their glossy glory.

Kenji let out a silent stretch, drinking in the woman’s humiliation. “These men deserve a proper reward for what they’ve done for you, don’t they, princess?”

Emily’s eyes widened in pure animal panic. After what had happened in the classroom and how he had made her introduce herself to his friends that morning, Emily had a good idea of what he meant by ‘reward,’ and she wanted nothing to do with it.

Kenji’s grin turned almost savage as he shook his head. “Unfortunately, we’re short on time tonight. Maybe next visit.”

He snapped his fingers. “Come,” he commanded like he was instructing a dog. Emily’s body stepped toward him instantly, her breasts thrust forward with every step until she stopped in front of the man like an obedient doll.

Kenji hooked a single finger beneath her chin, tilting her face up so the mirror caught every inch of her new reality one last time. “Say thank you to the young doctors for making you perfect.”

Her voice spoke automatically. “Thank you for making me perfect.” She repeated, clenching her thighs together every time her lips made contact with each other.

The students murmured their appreciation as their eyes continued to devour her.

Kenji slung the woman’s school bag over her shoulder like she was a child heading to class, then took her by the elbow and steered her toward the door. “Come on, student council president. Time to go home and show Mommy and Daddy the new you.”

Emily shuddered as he led her out of the recovery room. Her mom had a fit when she saw how her daughter was dressed this morning. How the hell was she going to react now? She wouldn’t have long to find out.

❖

Kenji kept his eyes on the road as he drove toward Emily’s home, but his grin never faltered. Every few seconds, he flicked his gaze sideways, drinking in the sight of the transformed blonde beside him. Emily sat rigid in the passenger seat, lips parted in that perfect, helpless O, staring straight ahead through the windshield in anger. The initial shock of what had happened to her body had worn off, and now she just felt furious.

“You’re turning into a perfect little gyaru slut,” the Yakuza man said warmly. “Your brother will be so proud when he finally gets back from Africa and sees what his little sister has been up to.”

Emily stayed silent. She didn’t want to give the asshole the satisfaction of an answer, and she knew he was trying to antagonize her. She knew that speaking meant allowing her lips to touch, and that was the response he was after, but he wasn’t going to get it.

A full minute passed in heavy quiet. Eventually, Kenji drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at the transformed woman. “You don’t have anything to say to me, princess?”

The blonde kept her gaze locked on the windshield, lips carefully parted, refusing to give him even the slightest sound.

Kenji sighed with theatrical disappointment. “You’re being very boring tonight,” he told her as he guided the SUV down the highway. He looked at the defiant blonde again. “Nothing?”

When it was clear Emily wasn’t going to play the man’s game. Kenji, however, had plenty of other games in his head to enjoy. “If you’re going to be so quiet, spread your legs wide and play with yourself for the rest of the journey,” he said conversationally. “Make sure you stay nice and wet for when you get home to Daddy.”

Emily’s eyes widened in pure fury as she comprehended his statement, but her body obeyed instantly. Her thighs parted wide, knees pressing against the door on one side and the center console on the other. The useless belt of a skirt rode up to her waist, baring everything for Kenji’s amusement.

Her right hand moved without permission, her long pink nails trailing down her smooth stomach until they found the slick heat already waiting. Two fingers circled her clit in slow, careful strokes, then dipped lower and pushed inside. A helpless gasp escaped her parted lips as her hips pushed into the motion, chasing the touch she hated.

Kenji’s grin stretched wider as he witnessed the scene. “That’s better.”

The car rolled smoothly down the empty highway while Emily’s fingers worked faster, curling and thrusting in a rhythm her mind screamed at but could not stop. Wet sounds filled the cabin, obscene and unmistakable. Her massive breasts rose and fell with each heavy breath, the fabric of her top so tight it might as well have been painted on.

The blonde tried to clench her jaw in defiance. Still, the moment her swollen lips brushed each other, lightning shot straight to her clit, encouraging her movements to hasten. The pleasure was instant, brutal, and unstoppable. Her back arched, a broken moan spilling out as her fingers plunged deeper, her hips grinding against her own hand.

Kenji barely concentrated on the road, enjoying the porn show taking place beside him. “Keep going, princess,” he taunted. “I want you dripping by the time we pull up to that big fancy house of yours.”

Emily’s body obeyed. Her thumb pressed harder against her clit while her fingers pumped relentlessly, slickness coating her thighs. Tears of rage and humiliation slipped down her glitter-dusted cheeks, but the pleasure built anyway, building further and further until her thighs trembled.

The city lights blurred past the windows, each one carrying her closer to the moment her parents would see what she had become.

Kenji hummed along to the radio, one hand loose on the wheel, the other on the gearshift, utterly relaxed. At the same time, the ruined honor student beside him fucked herself senseless at his command.

The Tanaka mansion gates appeared ahead, and Kenji smiled. Emily’s fingers, however, never slowed.

❖

Kenji’s SUV rolled to a smooth stop outside the thick iron gates of the Tanaka estate. The engine purred once before falling silent. He turned his head to the masturbating blonde. “Stop,” he said, almost gently.

Emily’s hand froze between her thighs, her fingers still buried in her slick heat. She sat panting, her legs still spread wide like a wanton whore, her thighs trembling from the edge she had been forced to ride for the last twenty minutes.

The Yakuza man turned to her, his eyes glittering with malicious intent. “Remember this, princess. You cannot tell a single soul about what happened today, or yesterday. Not your mother. Not your father. Not even yourself in the mirror. If anyone asks about the new look, you will tell them that you chose it yourself. Understand?”

She shuddered. He couldn’t be serious, could he? She couldn’t go around letting people believe that she chose to have rock-hard F-cup breasts. No one would believe it anyway. However, she simply nodded once, small and defeated.

“Good girl.” He reached across and flicked the passenger door handle. “Now get out. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

The door swung open, and Emily’s body climbed out, interpreting the man’s request as a command. The moment she closed the car door behind her, the SUV drove off, roaring away and leaving her alone in front of her own house.

Emily stared up the long, curving driveway. Every step felt heavier than the last. She wanted to run, to disappear into the city, but her feet carried her forward anyway. What would her parents say when they saw the new her? Would they even let her in the house?

The gravel crunched beneath the blonde’s clear platforms. She didn’t have her phone with her and had no idea what time it was. How long had she been unconscious? Was it even the same day? She wondered. Looking up at the sky, she knew the darkness indicated it was late. But she had no idea how late it was. Perhaps her parents had already gone to bed. Maybe she could slip upstairs, lock her door, and not have to face the music. If she just had time, maybe she could figure out a way to retake control of her life.

As she approached the front porch, her hand reached for the handle. The busty blonde closed her eyes and took the deepest breath before easing the door open.

She had hoped for quiet, but the moment she opened the front door, she realized her hopes were crashing around her. She heard voices drifting from the foyer. Emily heard her mother’s laugh, light and surprised. Her father’s deeper rumble, warm with welcome. And a third voice she didn’t recognize immediately.

Emily stepped inside.

Haruki and Hanna Tanaka stood near the grand staircase, their arms wrapped around a tall figure whose back faced the door. The traveler wore dusty cargo pants and a simple white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, his travel bag pooled at his feet.

Hanna spotted the blonde first, and the laughter died in her throat.

Haruki turned next. His smile faltered and then shattered into a horrified expression.

The traveler sensed the shift in atmosphere and turned fully to face the door. Emily’s big lips parted even further than usual as she stared ahead of her in shock.

It was her brother, Alex.

The Japanese-American man’s face went slack as he watched the figure before him. He recognized those eyes immediately. The easy joy in his eyes drained away in a heartbeat, replaced by speechless horror as he took in his little sister; her platinum hair, obscene breasts, ridiculous outfit, lips swollen in a permanent pout, and disgusting tattoos peeking from beneath the fabric.

“Alex?” Emily gasped in shock before a bolt of pleasure shot straight to her clit the moment her lips touched. A broken, involuntary moan slipped out needily.

The blonde woman stayed rooted to the spot, frozen by shock. She could not move, and definitely couldn’t hide.

Alex could only stare, the brother who had left a proud, perfect sister and had returned to a living, breathing fantasy built for other men’s pleasure.

Their eyes locked on each other as Emily’s mind reeled. Her brother had returned, and she had never felt so ashamed in her life.

End of Chapter Two