(Fate Grand Order / Overwatch TFTG, Jalter to Femboi cosplayer, Kiriko to Drag Queen cosplayer)

It started with cold, a rush of sensation that brought with it a thrill of foreboding.

Jalter crinkled her nose, opening her eyes to find… People. Too many people. It wasn’t right. Was this some sort of Holy Grail War? Who was her Master?

And… Why was everyone dressed like a woman?

Despite her edgy appearance and fondness for the dramatic, Jalter was still French, and therefore a touch traditional. So, as a result, she had absolutely no idea why so many men would be dressed as women. A few of them even looked like women she knew, or like parodies of those women.

Then there were the actual girls in the crowd. These ones looked like costumes were their profession, dressed in tailor-made outfits that seemed to always highlight the best parts of their curvy figures. It left her in the middle of two extremes, and she didn’t know how to feel about it, except pissed off.

It started with cold, like that feeling when you step out of bed and forget to put a shirt on.

Kiriko blinked the stars from her eyes (that can’t be healthy) and looked around to see a convention. Actually, maybe some kind of drag/rainbow convention? Whatever, she was open minded enough (even though some of these guys did NOT pass, lol) and could focus on precisely WHY she was here.

She remembered getting into a dropship for yet another Overwatch mission, and then… Well, nothing. Given how odd some of her missions had been so far, this really was par for the course. And yet…

She paused, and took a look over to someone else that looks as confused as she was (which is weird given that this girl looks like a total weeaboo goth) and waved her hand. “Hey! Over here! Yeah you, the pale waifu-bait-looking edgelord!”

Jalter turned at the sound of the voice, her keen senses alerting her to the fact that the call was directed at her—certainly not the fact that someone had just called an oddly specific, yet equally hurtful, name.

It was a green-haired girl she didn’t recognize, dressed as some sort of shrine maiden. Jalter strutted towards her in what she hoped was an authoritative manner. “Hey. Are you my Master?”

The girl blinked, then snickered. “The hell kind of question is that? No, I’m lost, like you. I’m Kiriko. And you are?” It was an odd introduction, given that the girl sported a badge with her name and picture clearly displayed on it.

“Jalter-ah.” She caught herself, a little too late. This was her chance to be properly known as Jeanne D’Arc Alter, without having to deal with that embarrassing nickname. She couldn’t possibly let this chance go. “I mean, Jeanne D’Arc Alter, Servant of the Abyss, Dragon Queen of France!”

“Jalter, huh?” Kirko squinted towards Jalter’s chest, scratching her chin dubiously. “You with Talon or something? I swear, their standards are dropping every day…”

Jalter jerked back in surprise, freezing at a clink against her armor’s breastplate. She looked down to find a similar nametag on her own chest, marked clearly – and irritatingly – with ‘Jalter’.

Kiriko looked at the strange girl with the French accent fumbling at her own armor. Said armor happened to show off an amazing rack (way to make a girl feel jealous, as if it wasn’t bad enough mine are a bit on the small side). Absently, she tugged at her kimono, quirking an eyebrow at a rubbery squeak.

A glance down showed off a pair of massive, fake tits, the kind of thing which would totally have sucked to stuff into her kimono. Which was a weird thought, given that she’d had to do that to get into this cos(hold on, what, that doesn’t sound right)play…?

“Hey. This is going to sound weird, but… Did I have these just a little bit ago?” Kiriko pointed to her chest, swaying her shoulders and giving her fakes a hearty jiggle.

Instead of the confused look she’d expected, Jalter gave her one of surprise, confirming her suspicions. Something (nanotech? magic?) was affecting her. She pursed her lips, nibbling on them a little to ease her tension.

But with each chew, they grew larger, squishier, fuller. Soon she was smacking together a pair of pillows, the kind a queen would spend thousands on Botox’ing up. They were even big enough that if she looked down, she could see them in her peripheral vision, painted in a gaudier shade of green than the emerald lipstick she’d normally wear.

Jalter could have sworn the girl didn’t have such large lips a moment ago, but that didn’t seem right to her either. Absently, she scratched her head, crinkling her nose at the strange feeling of her own hair. It was dryer than it should have been, probably the bleach that she used to look like… She furrowed her brow. No, that wasn’t right. Her hair was naturally white… Wasn’t it?

“Yeah, it’th happening to you, too, right?” Kiriko lisped slightly from how large her lips were. “Like the more you think about yourthelf, the leth of yourthelf you are?”

Jalter couldn’t help but be distracted by the girl’s lips, wondering if hers were so big. She didn’t tend to use lipstick, but they were at least as soft as any woman’s… Which was again, another odd thought. Of course they would be as soft as a woman’s, right?

Jalter bit her lip, trying not to focus on how much thinner it felt than usual. “Okay, so if what you’re saying is right… I know people comment on my chest...”

Kiriko nodded, looking a little closer to the French girl. Then her eyes widened slightly in surprise, and she looked up excitedly. “Hey, like, where did you get yourth?” Her fattened lips again added that lisp to her tone, that for some reason made Jalter's heart race.

“What!? I was born with...” Jalter's protest turned into a moan as she cupped her chest in her hands. It wasn't like they were sensitive, quite the opposite. It was the numbness of them, the weight of them, how she could feel them press against her nipples...

Wait.

She looked down and gasped. There was a faint seam between her breasts and her chest, a slight discoloration no matter how much makeup she tried to use. Which... Did she use makeup? She had to have, there was no way she'd let anyone else powder up her chest like that.

“Uh, um... Japan...” Jalter gulped, the answer coming to her head after a guilty second. “I mean, they looked really... Real, right? Like, they're even the right paleness.”

Kiriko beamed and clapped. “No way, really? So like, I’m guessing you’re one of those anime characters? I mean, I’m from Overwatch,” she said it like it was a secret, giving an exaggerated wink. “I mean, you know. The game from Blizzard? Or Activision. Or Microsoft. I don’t know, they keep getting bought out every year.”

None of those words made any sense to her. And yet, at the same time, they did. More importantly, she finally stopped lisping with her awesome smackers. She’d certainly spent long enough practicing in front of the mirror (wait what) to get good at it.

“O-oh. Um.” Jalter looked less assertive by the second, and more… Shy? Submissive? Cute. Cute was a good word for it. It almost looked like she was getting a little shorter, a little slimmer inside her armor. Hell, she even almost looked like a girl. “I mean… I guess I’m a Servant, so… Have you heard of the Fate franchise?”

She said the last two words like they were strange to her, just like how it sounded so strange to Kiriko that she’d been unfamiliar with whatever poor saps had developed her game. “Nah, but I guess it’s got to be popular, right? Good for you!”

Her game… as she thought of it, her fingers grew a little pudgier, and her nails grew a little more unkempt. There were small chips in her thumbnail from making her garage kits (no, I don’t do that loser shit) of her favorite Overwatch girls, like Sombra (ick), Pharah (too butch), and Mercy (eh… Okay, everyone likes her).

Speaking of Mercy, Kiriko could swear that she saw the blonde in the crowd. “I need healing!” She called out, voice gaining a slight rasp from too many nights spent screaming into a cheap headset. The blonde turned, and… Didn’t recognize her.

After all, why would she? This Mercy cosplayer (no, it’s definitely Angela, help!) was hot, and Kiriko was just a guy (HOLD ON).

“Someone you know?” Jalter absently itched at the back of her neck, picking at one of those small bumps that kept appearing every time she got nervous. Which happened a lot… She thought. She wasn’t sure. Everything was getting less familiar by the second, and she glanced down for a moment to avoid meeting Kiriko’s eyes…

Which was a massive mistake, as she ended up having her eyes stumbling upon something massive in turn. It was enough of a strange sight that she momentarily forgot the other guy’s name. Luckily, they happened to be wearing these weird nametags, that said the character’s name and the wearer’s name.

“Hey, Leo… Leo?” Her brain panicked for a moment. Did she mispronounce his name? She worked so hard on trying to pronounce Jalter’s German attacks that she’d totally spaced on preparing for saying any foreign names. But Leo wasn’t a foreign name, right? It was a constellation or something.

Eventually, ‘Kiriko’ got the hint and pointed to his chest. “Wait, huh? Why’d you call me…” His eyes unfocused for just a moment, and Jalter got a small chill down her spine. It was like she’d watched the guy just disassociate from himself, and then refocus on a new identity. “I mean, yeah? What’s up?”

“Isn’t that a little… Much? For public?” Jalter timidly pointed down between ‘Kiriko’s’ legs. After all, even if she was wearing a woman’s underwear herself, at least she wasn’t big enough… to… her thoughts slowed, catching on something.

Jalter knew that there shouldn’t be anything extra between her legs. She was the Dragon Witch, after all. At the same time, part of her thought that she was only dressing the part, and that she secretly liked the way the silky cloth felt against her… No, because if she had that, she wouldn’t be a her anymore…

“Pfft, relax! This? It’s tame for a queen.” ‘Kiriko’ pressed one of his large hands against his comically oversized fake breasts. “A femboy like you wouldn’t understand though.”

It was said teasingly, but the consequences were anything but a tease. Tears dewed at the corners of Jalter’s eyes as something swelled against her soft, feminine thighs, no matter how hard she clamped them together. She could feel her Adam’s apple swell slightly—though it still wasn’t as large as Leo’s—and, worse of all, she could feel her sense of self becoming his sense of self.

“N-no, wait,” his voice took on a slightly nasally pitch as he struggled to imitate a voice that once came so naturally. “I’m Jalter, not some fem… fem…”

His muscles ached, losing whatever definition they’d still had in trade of the softness born from a life online. He shivered so hard that the metal on his nametag clinked against the cheap plastic of his ‘armor’, and he looked down to see a name that was chillingly familiar.

“Hey, you okay Ken?” Leo (Kiriko!) asked, cocking his hips in an exaggeration of that look he’d seen women do on TV. He chuckled. “I don’t know how your parents thought naming you that would make you any less of a Barbie.”

“While we’re here… It’s Jalter, remember?” The smaller man fidgeted. Damn guy was lucky enough to be born Asian, so he could pull off the ‘almost-a-girl’ look. On the other hand, it also meant he totally couldn’t rock the same confidence Leo (K-Kiriko?) sported with every strut.

“Sure it is, Jalter,” Leo (Kiri) stressed (ko) the name teasingly, but didn’t press him any further. After all, as far as he knew, they’d been friends for years now, even if this was their first time meeting up in person. “Anyways, want to get some swag?”

He jerked his thumb towards some plushes that looked like someone’s best attempt to stitch together a Kiriko impression, ignorant of the fading voice in his head. Had he been listening, he might have heard one final squeak. But right now, he wasn’t focused at all on that. Instead, he was too busy checking out one of the hot cosplayers hired by the con.

Jalter chewed on his lip quietly, but didn’t push the point. How could he tell Leo that he felt more natural as Jalter than as Ken when he dressed up like this? Not like his friend would judge him or anything, but why add the drama?

For now, he’d just be happy that he was able to actually wear this out in public. Who knows? Maybe someone would snap a photo of him and he’d go viral. It wasn’t like anyone would recognize him like this… He hoped.

Still, he couldn’t quite get over that feeling something was wrong… Well, if he still couldn’t think of it, it probably didn’t matter.

He joined the man he recognized as his friend, walking deeper into the convention that had stolen both of their old selves, as it had done for so many others… And as it would do for so many more.