“Sister? Sister? Are you still sleeping?”
Jon woke with a start. Mornings were always rough for him, and it didn’t help that he didn’t recall falling asleep, or was woken up in an entirely unfamiliar bed with an entirely unfamiliar body. God, he couldn’t figure out what was more distracting—his new hair that was literally everywhere, or the weight on top of him. Were his new breasts really that heavy, or did Allaria just like sleeping under five layers of bed sheets?
“Sister! Wake! Up!”
Neither, apparently. Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes to see an adorable nine-year old girl sitting on top of him. At least, she looked to be nine years old; elves were confusing.
“Ivy! You silly mouse, I told you there would be consequences if you woke me again!” The words flew out of his pretty little mouth before Jon even realized it, carrying a joyful lilt that he wasn’t really feeling. His hands wrapped around the little elf, tickling her with a sisterly affection that, again, did not reflect Jon in the slightest.
Okay, fine, Jon did think that his giggling pseudo-sister was really cute—much more than his real siblings, at least—but he still had no control over his body. And that, and its implications, was a bit terrifying. Would he be stuck acting like Allaria for the entire week, following the original storyline? He hoped not; as a handsome male adventurer, that’d be awesome. But a dainty little princess? Jon didn’t even want to consider what the story would make him do.
Focus, Jon. It can’t be that bad. Try controlling yourself.
He tried to stop himself from tickle-hugging the young girl, and, to his relief, did. Now for something a bit more substantial.
Can you leave me alone for a little bit? I’d like to put some clothes on.
“Dearest Ivy, would you give me a moment? I would very much like to make myself presentable. ”
Ivy, still giggling, kindly obeyed. Great. This felt like back in the real world: Jon could behave as he wanted, but it’d be in character. The new caveat was a bit more annoying: it seemed that if he didn’t act quickly enough, or in certain circumstances, the story would control his body for him. This was confirmed when he found himself rising from his bed, making his was towards Allaria’s surprisingly massive walk-in closet.
Come to think of it, I think we’re in a giant tree—Good God, what the hell am I wearing!? And what’s with everything in this closet? Are elves straight up perverts, or do they have just have a cultural hatred for clothes!?