(F to Doll)

(Fs to Clothing)

The air was dense with mana, which should have been expected from the Seventh Singularity. It allowed for more powerful magic to be performed, but only if the caster was used to it. Much to her summoned Servant’s chagrin, Gudako, last Master of Humanity, was not.

“You need to keep your shoulders straight and your back arched,” tutted Nightingale. She looked to her Master sternly, checking up and down the girl’s body for any injuries she may have sustained in their rough landing.

“Ehm… I appreciate you looking out for Senpai, but maybe you could give her a few minutes to recover?” Gudako’s other companion asked. The girl was Mash Kyrielight, a demi-Servant who’d protected her for months.

Nightingale watched her Master give the pink-haired girl an affectionate, friendly smile. It was as heartwarming as it was softhearted, the exact kind of thing that would get someone killed on the battlefield.

“Negative.” Nightingale fixed Mash with a withering glare. “We’re in unknown territory and must proceed to the nearest settlement at once. Otherwise, we run the risk of-”

“Out of the way!” A new voice cried, interrupting what was sound advice.

Nightingale snapped her eyes up towards it, already in motion. It had come from above, which meant that there was no way she could get between it and her Master. Her only option was to displace her Master.

“Kyrielight!” The order came out as a sharp bark, as Nightingale yanked Gudako’s collar, tossing the girl behind her. She finally caught sight of the voice’s origin: a dark-haired girl with two pigtails, falling from the sky, heading straight for her.

If she had fallen onto Gudako, the orange-haired Master would have been flattened to the ground. Likely minor bruising, potential fracture—unacceptable parameters for Nightingale’s mission. Fortunately, as a Servant, Nightingale was made of sterner stuff.

She snapped her arms forward, grabbing the girl’s shoulders; then turning her so that her posterior rested in the crook of Nightingale’s other elbow. A small kick of one leg let her spin in place, turning the downward momentum into a steady turn.

“W-wow, nice catch, Night!” Gudako gasped, safe in Mash’s arms. As expected of Kyrielight, she was an excellent soldier.

“Indeed. However.” Nightingale easily turned her grip into a submission hold, pinning the stranger in her arms. “We do not know if this girl is a threat. State your name and affiliation, or I will be forced to apply a nonlethal incapacitation.”

“Honestly! Such impertinence!” The girl huffed. She cast her arms out almost casually, breaking free of Nightingale’s iron grip. Her slender legs kicked back towards Nightingale’s stomach, knocking her away with the force of a mule’s kick. “Do you have any,”

Nightingale didn’t waste a second. Even as she fell, she snapped one hand to her holster and the other to her belt. By the time her feet hit the ground, she’d already grabbed her gun and a spare grenade.

“Idea who you’re talking to?” The dark-haired girl spun in midair, blinking in surprise as she came face-to-face with Nightingale’s .38 pepperbox revolver. She hovered in place, using magic to keep her bare feet from the ground.

“Name and affiliation.” Nightingale repeated herself. Her shooting finger tightened, only for a pair of smooth hands to grab her arm.

“Night, stand down! We don’t even know who she is! What if she’s a friend?” Gudako wailed.

“Hmph! Well, I certainly like your spirit. You have the privilege of gazing upon the goddess Ishtar, one of the few goddesses still on the side of humanity,” the floating girl beamed. “I will accept your mishandled catch of my body as an apology for this threat.”

Nightingale slipped her finger from her pistol’s guard, lying it flat against the smooth metal of its body. “Acceptable. As a nurse, it is my job to keep my Master from all harm.”

Ishtar blinked. “Well, then you’re in the wrong place. Just look around, haven’t you noticed that there’s demonic beasts nearby?”

She had a fair point. Their brief scuffle had caused enough commotion to alert several nearby creatures. Their description matched that of Uridimmu, Mesopotamian beasts reminiscent of a lion with a massive jaw and fangs long as swords. There had to be a half-dozen, and they circled the quartet hungrily.

Ishtar beamed, lifting a hand to her side. A large bow materialized inches from her fingers, bobbing in the air in time with her body. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. As a display of my power-”

The Uridimmu exploded, a series of sharp cracks soon following the detonations. Ishtar’s eyes widened in shock, just as Nightingale’s narrowed.

It was gunfire, likely a supersonic antitank weapon. Impact was a quarter-second prior to report, meaning the shooter was a few hundred feet… Nightingale adjusted her aim as quickly as she could think. She wasn’t a genius Caster, nor did she have the marksmanship of an Archer. But as a Berserker, she knew combat, and was singularly prepared for it.

In her sights was a pink-haired vixen, a description that was very nearly literally accurate. The woman sported vulpine ears, a long tail, and a grin that promised nothing but trouble. She took a step forward, and the world around her seemed to blur. When her foot fell, she’d somehow made up the distance between her and their party.

“Master,” Nightingale warned.

“Let’s hear her out first, okay?” Gudako smiled, turning towards the new arrival. “Thanks for saving us! I’m Gudako, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, there’s really no need for introductions. I’m on the clock, you see.” the vixen flashed that cruel smile of hers, “and there’s really no sense in beating around the bush.”

Ishtar yelped, pawing at her belly. “Wh-what’s happening? I feel really funny!” Her bow fell from the air, disappearing before it could hit the ground.

Nightingale didn’t know what the girl was talking about. She even felt a small rush of irritation from the distraction. It faded as she saw physical symptoms.

Dark black raced along the girl’s form. It was glossy and leathery, and where it touched, Ishtar’s body lost its definition. Curves straightened out, arms and legs merged, and she curled backward at an unnatural angle.

“Uh…” Gudako was frozen, unsure of what to do. Just this once, Nightingale didn’t blame her.

“What are you doing, you idiots! Help me out here!” Ishtar struggled, but couldn’t uncurl her body. She was curled like an L, with her chest and face pointed towards the ground and her merged legs up in the air. A hole formed in the center of where her soles were, and judging from the goddess’s struggles, it was boring its way through her body.

“This feels so weird! I demand y-mphh,” Ishtar’s voice became muffled as the leather reached her face, smoothing over her beautiful features. “Mpph! Mmpph… mm…” Her struggled started to lessen as the last of her muscles faded, and cloth laces stitched their way along what was her back, and the backs of her legs.

Nightingale couldn’t believe what she was seeing, but she couldn’t deny her eyes either. The goddess had turned into what was unmistakably a boot. Whatever was giving her the ability to hover must have been tied to her body, because she dropped from the air, straight into the vixen’s hands.

“Well, now that’s settled,” the woman spoke with a small smile, grabbing the boot’s mouth and tugging. It stretched, dimpling in the middle. Then, as though it was undergoing mitosis, it split down the middle into two equal halves.

Nightingale tried to shoot the vixen, but her gun was no longer in her hands. Nor was her grenade, for that matter. Her mind raced for possibilities about how to attack the stranger, but there were too many variables.

“W-wait… Ishtar was on our side, so…” As usual, Gudako was slower than Nightingale. Not that it did her any better. “Uh… Night? Mash? Mash!”

Something about her Master’s cry made Nightingale turn from her opponent, a mistake she normally wouldn’t have made. However, there was good call for it. The girl’s shield was fallen onto the ground, with no trace of her around. Instead, a pair of black stockings rested on its inner surface, neatly folded.

“Mash? Where did-mmph!” Gudako’s voice turned to a muffled yelp, and Nightingale felt her connection to her Master flicker. It didn’t vanish, but something about it was different now, as though something terrible had happened.

But before the woman could turn, cold metal was pressed against her back.

“So sorry about all this. Believe it or not, I’m a fan of your work,” the vixen purred, so close that her breath was warm on the back of Nightingale’s ears.

“Who… What are you? What did you do with them?” Nightingale tried to buy time, but it wasn’t doing her much good. She couldn’t think of a good way out of this, no matter how hard she tried.

“As a courtesy, I’ll answer those first two. Call me Vitch, and I’m just a humble mercenary trying to make her place in the world.” The pressure at Night’s back increased, and she stiffened. “As for the last… Well, it’s just so much easier to show you.”

The world flickered for a moment. Pressure settled across Nightingale’s form, like new fabric had settled in between her body and her clothes. There was even something strange atop her head, a weight that was oddly familiar of a shako she’d worn in Crimea.

And a cacophony of voices overwhelmed her thoughts.

‘What’s going on? Why can’t I see? Why can’t I move? Why do I feel so warm? What’s around me? No… Inside me!?” Called a voice similar to Mash’s.

‘This pressure! Stop it! Stop mashing my chest into the ground, you heathen! I demand you get off me at once!’ Ishtar’s voice rang out.

‘Please, no… I…’ As though it was an echo, a voice similar to Ishtar’s called, though it was softer, and faded just after a few words.

‘It’s so hot in here! Get me out, wherever I am!’ Gudako’s voice was the last, and Nightingale was at least somewhat reassured to hear that her Master was somehow intact.

“Well, some of you looks the part…” Vitch mused. Nightingale turned her head towards the woman, only for that cold metal in her back to press harder, so hard that it slid into her.

‘C-cold!’ Gudako cried.

There was a click that Nightingale could feel through her entire body, and she froze in place. It wasn’t her choice. It was like every muscle had locked up. Her arms were stiff out at her sides and her legs held in a stance worthy of the parade ground.

Then the metal turned, and Nightingale could feel it moving within her. It wasn’t like she’d been stabbed. It was like her body had turned into some sort of mechanism built for this turner, this… Key?

“Ah, there it is,” The vixen purred. “I can see it in your eyes, you’ve finally realized there’s a key in you. No need to say anything—not that you can. Just let me have my fun. I’ll even tell you a story.”

The vixen leaned in close, her fingers so warm against the key. Nightingale knew it was a bad sign that she could feel it like it was a part of her.

“Once upon a time, there was a hungry fox. She needed to have her fill to grow big and strong, and the only thing that filled her up was timelines. But consuming timelines is just so much work, that there was no way she could be full when she wanted.”

Nightingale shuddered as the key turned. Her body felt strange: weaker, but firmer at the same time. Her skin felt so solid, but it was smooth and utterly at odds with the lean muscle she’d sported before. Her thighs and chest tingled as well, some internal pressure stretching them wider.

‘S-so full! Please, stop!’ Mash’s voice begged.

Gudako cried out next. ‘T-tight! Full! You’re stretching me!’

“Then one day, a wonderfully delightful stranger came to her with an idea and a job. If the hungry fox were to find a timeline at its weakest point, she could eat the whole thing.”

Nightingale’s key turned again. She could see in her peripheral vision that her stretching chest was pushing against the inside of her old coat, to the point that it was bulging out of it. Just like she’d thought, a new outfit had been slipped under hers. It was close, but instead of a functional military uniform, this was a simpler, almost cartoonish imitation of a soldier’s coat.

‘Mnnuuh!!! The pressure… Too much…’ Gudako’s voice was a desperate whimper.

‘You think that’s bad!? It’s only getting worse for me here. W-wait, how come I feel it in two places? This is so weird, do I have two bodies!?’ Ishtar wailed.

“All the hungry fox would need to do is find the few people who could stop her, and use her magic. Hungry foxes each have their own abilities. Some tie theirs to beasts. Some tie theirs to guns. And this hungry fox… She tied hers to clothes and toys.”

Nightingale’s face started to twitch. A rictus grin spread across her features, and her eyes crossed against their will. She could feel circles drawing their way across her cheeks, a painted blush making a mockery of her traditionally serious visage.

‘S-something else is happening!’ Gudako whimpered. ‘Part of me’s being moved!’

Nightingale’s arm jerkily lifted as her key turned. She could feel gears in her body tightening, ratcheting her arm up towards her head. She realized that whatever had happened to Ishtar must have happened to Mash and Gudako too… Meaning that she was wearing them.

“Ah, you’ve realized that too! How good,” hummed Vitch. “Yes, you see, the hungry fox waited until there was just one mage left… And she made that mage into a lovely jacket. She turned the mage’s companion into stockings, so they’d never be far apart…”

‘A jacket!? W-wait, am I being worn? What’s happening?’

‘Stockings? Senpai, can you hear me? Can you hear me?’

Her clothing’s cries were separate from one another, overlapping at times. They were both calling out, but only Nightingale could hear. And even before she was forced into this stupid, toyish grin, she couldn’t respond.

“And the hungry fox even changed the goddesses of this land, too. She made the gloomy goddess of the underworld into a lovely hat, and the goddess of beauty into simple, common boots.”

‘Boots? W-wait, Ereshkigal? You too? Damn it, that was my last shot out of here!’ Ishtar brattily railed against her new leathery form. ‘Whoever’s wearing me, take me off this instant!’

The tension was building more and more. Worst of all, it felt good. Or… Rather, it was like the promise of feeling pleasure. Nightingale knew it well from her time with men and women alike, though it was hardly a sensation she’d expected to feel in this life as a Servant.

Her fingers and toes stiffened, simplifying, merging together. And yet in that simplicity there was a pleasure of its own. The less of her there was to control, to think about… The better she felt, the better she knew she’d feel. It was an unfortunate diagnosis, but an accurate one nonetheless.

“And the last of those pesky Servants was a soldier. But she was a Servant, so she was just an imitation of one. And what better body for such a toy soldier than… Well…”

The key stopped turning. Nightingale was fully wound up. Her one hand was lifted towards her head, the other smartly at her side. She was tense. She knew that the second Vitch released her key, she’d start moving… However she’d been made to.

No, remade to. For some reason, it was easy for her to think of herself as a toy. It was easy to pretend she’d always been this way. But she couldn’t do that.

‘A… Toy? Wait, are we being worn by Night? That’s great, she’s a nurse! She can fix us!’

‘Miss Nightingale? Can you hear me? Can you help?’

‘The brutish woman with the red coat!? Well… She seemed competent enough.’

They were all counting on Nightingale to do something. Which ironically, she was quite sure was the only thing she was fully incapable of.

“And that little toy was made for marching. And the second she was unwound, she’d start to march…” Vitch let go of the key.

Nightingale’s right leg lifted stiffly. Her left pushed back.

‘Mwwrph!? Stop it with that pressure!’ Ishtar begged. ‘I can feel… It’s so weird! Stop it!’

‘Miss Nightingale! I can feel your thighs pressing against me! I can feel you inside me, you have to, uhm…’

Nightingale’s lifted arm finished its salute, the motion so exaggerated it made her overinflated breasts jiggle within her jacket.

‘Tuh-tight! Night, stop! You’re so heavy in me! I’m… Night, it feels good! Stop!’

She heard them all, but was trapped in her own body, staring cross-eyed at the brim of her cap.

“And the second she’d start to march, she and all her clothes would start to lose themselves…”

Nightingale finished her step forward… And then mirrored it, lifting her other leg, saluting with her other arm. She couldn’t stop. Worst of all, it felt good to do this. It was a deep pleasure, as though this was her entire life’s purpose, and fulfilling this made her whole.

A clinical part of her brain assessed that her sexual drive had turned into a functional drive. Marching like this was triggering the same kinds of sensation as the most hedonistic temptations she’d ever entertained. And if it was happening to her, then…

‘Stuh-stop! I am a… Me… Me am goddess! Feeling squished! Heavy!’ Nightingale’s boots were getting less and less cognizant with each step.

‘Miss Nighhuu-Nightingale! Can… Can you press your thighs together more when you wuhhhwalk? It’s too much of a tease!’ Her stockings were a little more intelligent than the boots had been, so they were more salient. Still, it sounded like they wouldn’t last long either.

‘Jiggle… Hehe jiggle jiggle… Mnnnuhh Night boobies heavy and good…’ And of course her jacket was as idiotic as…

The toy was shocked by a new realization. It had been so sudden, she had no idea when it had happened, but she couldn’t remember what her clothes were. Or what she was. Her clothes kept calling her different names, but they didn’t feel right to her. She… Did she have a name?

“And when they were all marched away…”

The toy could see Vitch moving in her peripheral vision, but she only cared for one reason: she wanted to feel Vitch wind her up more, so she could march more.

‘Heavy… Smooshed… …’

‘Squish… Soft… …’

‘Bounce… …’

The clothes all grew quiet. The toy didn’t care. It needed to march. Marching felt good. Was good. Step after step, pushing its boots against the ground and brushing its stockings together. Salute after salute, jiggling its silicon chest. All the while, smiling because that’s what its face was.

Marching was good…

Vitch walked in front of the toy as it slowed, then finally stilled, fully unwound. She took a step closer, circling her arms around the toy’s waist. She ground one of her stilettos against its boots, then rubbed her thigh against hits stockings. She pressed her bosom against the toy’s, sandwiching its jacket between them. She stroked the toy’s blushing cheek; then its cap.

There was no reply, no trace of thought. Only a contented existence that was further fulfilled by her attention.

A cruel smile worked across Vitch’s face. She cupped her toy’s cheek and kissed it, savoring the slightly panicked smile that was forever frozen in place.

“When they were all marched away… The hungry fox would devour their world whole, until she was finally complete.”