Part 1: The First Fitting: Meko
I pulled up a sturdy timber chair in the center of the dormitory floor, setting down radiant bolts of Prismatic Cloth and fine, breathable linen beside my crafting kit.
Looking around the room, every single one of the seventeen surviving girls was staring at me like a deer caught in high beams, their cheeks painted in varying shades of brilliant crimson.
I leaned back into the chair, resting my elbows on my knees, letting a slow, thoroughly amused smirk spread across my face.
"Relax, ladies," I chuckled, gesturing toward the low stone table. "Eat some of those calming honey candies while I prep the patterns. You look like you're awaiting execution."
Several girls quickly reached out with trembling fingers, popping the glowing sweets into their mouths. The herbal calming buff went straight to work, smoothing out their frantic breathing, steadying their racing pulses, and softening the rigid lines of their shoulders.
I unrolled my enchanted measuring tape, cracking my knuckles with practiced ease.
"Alright. First up: Vice Representative, Meko. Step forward."
Every pair of eyes snapped instantly to Meko.
The petite committee girl froze, a sharp gasp catching in her throat. An explosive blush erupted across her cheeks, spreading down her slender neck all the way to her collarbone. Swallowing hard, she stood up from the platform bed and took slow, trembling steps into the warm lantern light.
She didn't try to make excuses. She was smart enough to know what kind of lethal terrain was waiting outside tomorrow.
Reaching down with shaking fingers, Meko untied the sash of her loose Prismatic sleep shirt, letting the soft fabric slide down her shoulders and pool at her feet on the stone floorboards.
She stood completely, stunningly bare under the ambient glow of the cavern crystals.
She was breathtaking. Her upper body was delicate and modest—small, porcelain-smooth curves resting high and firm on her chest, trembling faintly in the cool cave air.
"Hands out to your sides, Meko," I commanded. My voice was smooth, deep, and completely in control.
I stepped into her personal space.
Thanks to [Sensory Sensitivity (Lv. 1)], I could feel the intense, radiant heat rolling off her skin. My hands were broad, warm, and deliberate as I wrapped the tape around her ribcage, tracing the sensitive curve directly beneath her bust.
Meko let out a tiny, breathless squeak. Her back arched minutely as my calloused thumb lightly brushed the sensitive underside of her curves, mapping the precise contour and arch of her ribs.
Right on cue, 👔 [Corporate Proactiveness (Lv. 7)] flared in my skull:
[Target Identified: Upper Torso Resource Optimization.]
Calculating structural tensile elasticity, ergonomic weight distribution, and high-velocity moisture-wicking parameters down to the millimeter.
My hands became an absolute blur across the floating Prismatic Cloth. Needle, thread, and raw mana fused together with blinding dexterity.
SHING.
In five seconds flat, five bespoke, perfectly fitted traveling bras rested neatly in my hands. The enchanted cloth shifted dynamically into a soft, shimmering peach tone, styled with delicate lace trims and engineered for weightless, high-impact support.
Meko stared down at the stack of luxury lingerie, her jaw hanging slack in pure, unadulterated disbelief.
"There's your upper set," I smirked, leaning down until my face was inches from hers. "Now... let's handle the lower half."
Meko’s large eyes widened to the size of saucers. "T-The lower...?"
"You're marching through a Level 900 jungle tomorrow, Meko," I murmured, my voice dropping into a low, gravelly register as I crouched before her. "If your underwear chafes, shifts, or rides up during a high-speed sprint, you won't last an hour out there. Feet shoulder-width apart."
Trembling from head to toe, she complied, parting her thighs slightly on the stone.
I drew the measuring tape around her narrow waist, sliding it smoothly down over the flare of her hips.
While her chest was modest and petite, her lower body told a completely different story. She had wide, unmistakably feminine hips, smooth, wonderfully thick thighs, and a remarkably round, heavy rear that demanded serious respect.
A dangerously perfect lower half, I thought, a slow, wolfish smirk touching my lips.
I didn't rush a single second.
My warm palms firmly gripped the flare of her hips, my fingers tracing down the sensitive, burning crease where her inner thigh met her pelvis. Sliding my hands around to the back, I palmed the full, generous swell of her rear, gripping and testing the soft flesh with deliberate, confident pressure to measure the exact elasticity and ergonomic support required for rugged terrain.
Meko’s brain completely short-circuited.
A sharp, shuddering gasp tore from her throat. Her toes curled violently into the stone floor, her hands flying up to cover her mouth to stifle a desperate, trembling whimper. Goosebumps erupted across the silky skin of her thighs as a feverish heat consumed her entire frame, her pulse hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Working directly against her bare skin, my fingers flew like lightning.
The soft Prismatic Cloth wove itself directly around her hips, fusing onto her body to form a snug, seamless pair of boyshort-cut panties. The magical fabric hugged every single millimeter of her generous curves with warm, supportive perfection, without pinching a single nerve. Four matching backup pairs materialized cleanly on my lap.
DING.
👑 [TRADE CRAFTING EVOLUTION]
Skill Threshold Shattered via Direct Manual Application!
📈 [Sewing] ascended from Lv. 6 ➔ [Bedding and Sewing (Lv. 8)]!
"All done," I smiled smoothly. Standing up, I gave her round, newly clad hip a firm, playful pat.
Meko stood frozen in place for three whole seconds, completely dazed. Her knees were shaking so violently they nearly buckled beneath her. Breathing in ragged, shallow gasps, her porcelain skin flushed an intoxicating shade of deep pink from her temples to her toes. She stumbled weakly back toward the platform bed like a woman who had just barely survived a category-five hurricane.
Ridley stepped forward to meet her, the Astraeum sapphire on her wedding band pulsing with a soothing, warm golden light.
Taking the stack of freshly crafted peach lingerie from Meko's shaking fingers, the student council president smiled gently, helping her thoroughly melted classmate sit down onto the plush quilts.
"Catch your breath, Meko," Ridley whispered with a fond, knowing chuckle, rubbing her shoulder. "He's thorough... isn't he?"
Meko could only manage a frantic, wide-eyed nod, clutching her chest as her heart hammered out of control.
I leaned back into my timber chair, resting my chin casually on my knuckles as I looked across the remaining sixteen trembling, wide-eyed girls with a slow, confident, alpha smirk.
"Next."
Part 2: The Second Fitting: Jamie
I watched Meko recover on the platform bed, clutching her fresh stack of color-shifting undergarments with a dazed, dreamy smile.
Turning back to the room, I let my gaze sweep over the remaining girls. Most of them immediately averted their eyes, clutching their collars and pulling their sleep shirts tight as if praying they could blend into the stone masonry.
I smirked, leaning back into my chair.
"Alright. Next up. Jamie, you're on the clock."
The trendy blonde gal jumped like she’d been struck by a stray lightning bolt. Her tanned face erupted into an instant, blinding crimson blush, her hands flying up in a frantic, defensive wave.
"W-Wait, wait, wait! Time out, Yuki!" Jamie squeaked, her usual bold, loudmouth gyaru swagger completely crumbling under pressure. "Someone else go first! I am literally not mentally prepared for this right now!"
Beside her, Shizuku let out a low, sultry chuckle.
The Cold Iron ruby ring on Shizuku’s finger flared with a warm, mischievous crimson light. Before Jamie could backpedal into the shadows, the former gal queen stepped smoothly behind her friend, placing both hands firmly on Jamie's shoulders and marching her straight into the lantern light.
"No running away, Jamie," Shizuku teased, her voice dripping with playful senior authority. "You're holding up the class. Strip down."
"Shizuku, you absolute traitor—!"
Without giving her room to stall, Shizuku’s nimble fingers went to work, deftly sliding the loose Prismatic sleep shirt off Jamie's shoulders and unbuttoning her shorts.
In seconds, the fabric pooled onto the stone floorboards.
Jamie stood completely, breathtakingly bare beneath the glowing cavern crystals. She let out a sharp gasp, her arms flying across her torso in a frantic, desperate attempt to cover her chest and pelvis at the same time.
I took in the view, letting out an appreciative, low whistle.
"Come on now, Jamie," I chuckled, tapping the measuring tape against my thigh. "I can't calculate a single dimension if you’re standing there knotted up like a pretzel. Arms out."
Her ears and cheeks burned so hot they looked ready to vent steam. Seeing that neither Shizuku nor I was giving her an out, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, took a shuddering breath, and slowly let her trembling arms fall to her sides.
"Nothing to be ashamed of," I murmured, my voice dropping into a smooth, steady register as I stood up from my chair. "You're gorgeous."
She truly was stunning. Jamie’s figure was a flawless hourglass—a narrow, toned waist that flared out into lush, athletic hips, balanced by a remarkably full, heavy bust that quivered slightly with every frantic, terrified beat of her heart.
I stepped directly into her personal space.
Thanks to [Sensory Sensitivity (Lv. 1)], the heat radiating off her skin was palpable, carrying a sweet, intoxicating scent of summer citrus and pure adrenaline.
"Breathe," I whispered.
I brought the measuring tape around her ribcage. My broad, warm hands smoothed over the soft, sensitive skin directly beneath her breasts to map the structural arch.
The second my palms made contact with her bare flesh, Jamie’s entire frame jerked as if struck by an electric current.
"Ah—!"
A sharp, breathy gasp broke from her lips. Her toes curled violently against the smooth stone floor, her back arching as a visible shiver rippled straight down her spine.
I didn't rush. To ensure her heavy bust would receive weightless, bounce-free support on the march, my hands slid upward. My calloused thumbs deliberately traced the soft outer curves, lifting and measuring the volume with firm, unwavering precision.
Every single brush of my skin against hers drew a trembling whimper from her throat.
"Hnngh... Y-Yuki... wait... ah!"
Her eyelids fluttered, her lower lip caught tightly between her teeth as goosebumps erupted across her collarbone and shoulders. The flushed peaks of her breasts hardened instantly into tight, sensitive buds beneath my fingertips.
I paused, looking down at her dazed, quivering expression with an amused, wolfish smirk.
"Look at that," I murmured, my voice a deep, teasing rumble right against her ear. "Someone’s remarkably hypersensitive, aren't they?"
Jamie couldn't even manage a coherent word. Her face was blazing scarlet, her chest heaving against my hands as she gave a frantic, breathless little nod, completely overwhelmed by the contrast between my rough, commanding hands and her delicate skin.
"Hang in there, sweetheart. Almost done with the top."
Working directly against her bare skin, [Corporate Proactiveness (Lv. 7)] and my [Bedding and Sewing (Lv. 8)] fired in unison.
Translucent threads of spun silver and Prismatic mana materialized around her ribcage. The enchanted fabric wove itself directly over her curves, forming a custom plunge bra that locked her heavy bust into place with zero pressure and absolute ergonomic support. Four matching sets manifested instantly in the air, folding neatly into a stack on my chair.
"Now for the bottom," I said, crouching before her on the stone.
Jamie’s breath hitched in her throat, her hands fluttering helplessly. "T-The bottom too...?"
"Unless you want your thighs chafed raw by mile three tomorrow," I smirked.
I drew the measuring tape around her slender waist, letting my palms slide smoothly down over the flare of her hips. Her skin was burning to the touch, slick with a faint sheen of sweet sweat.
I cupped the sides of her hips, my fingers digging gently into the soft, feminine curve of her waist before smoothing down over the lush swell of her thighs. Sliding my hands around, my palms wrapped fully around the underside of her firm, round rear, gripping and lifting the soft flesh to calculate the exact tensile balance needed for high-speed evasion.
That was Jamie's absolute breaking point.
"Ahhh—! Y-Yuki, wait—!"
Her voice broke into an intoxicating, shuddering moan that echoed through the quiet dormitory.
The sheer sensory overload of my hands mapping her sensitive curves—combined with the ambient, limit-broken mana thrumming through my palms—completely shattered the last of her cognitive defenses. Her thighs clamped together, trembling violently as a wave of intense, electric heat washed through her entire nervous system.
Her breath turned into ragged, desperate pants, her head falling back as the overwhelming intimacy completely fried her senses.
Working at blinding speed, my fingers blurred.
The Prismatic Cloth spun directly over her hips, sealing onto her skin as a pair of soft, low-rise lace hipsters that hugged every millimeter of her curves like a second skin. Four backup pairs dropped cleanly into my lap.
The second I pulled my hands away to break contact, Jamie’s legs completely turned to jelly.
Her knees buckled.
Before she could hit the hard stone floorboards, I surged upward, catching her effortlessly against my chest and sweeping her into a smooth, commanding bridal carry.
Jamie was completely spent. Her head lolled back against my shoulder, her body limp and glowing an intoxicating shade of pink from head to toe, her chest heaving with rapid, shallow breaths. Her golden eyes were half-lidded, glazed with dazed, helpless affection as she clung weakly to my shirt, completely disarmed.
I chuckled quietly, looking down at the melted gyaru resting in my arms.
"Well. That's one way to break in a new pair of underwear."
I carried her across the room and laid her gently onto the plush quilts of the dormitory platform bed. Shizuku walked over with a proud, laughing grin, resting a comforting hand on her friend's damp forehead while pulling the blanket up to Jamie's chin.
"Told you you'd survive, Jamie," Shizuku giggled softly.
Jamie could only pull the quilt over her burning face, letting out a muffled, embarrassingly cute squeak.
I turned back to the room, cracking my knuckles and letting my gaze lock onto the remaining fifteen frozen, wide-eyed girls.
"Next."
Part 3: The Final Fitting: Rika
With Jamie blissfully knocked out on the quilts, I shifted my [Bedding and Sewing (Lv. 8)] into absolute overdrive.
For the next twenty minutes, my hands were a supernatural blur. Mana threads hissed through the air, enchanted measuring tapes flashed across bare skin, and bolts of Prismatic Cloth dissolved into bespoke undergarments at blinding, superhuman speed. One by one, fifteen blushing, trembling classmates stumbled back to their platform beds clutching stacks of custom lingerie, their faces glowing like emergency flares.
By the time the dust settled, the air in the dormitory was thick with the scent of sweet calming honey candies, feminine heat, and racing pulses.
I cracked my knuckles, leaning back into my timber chair with a slow, deliberate smirk.
"Alright. Last, but definitely not least... Archery Club Captain. Rika, you're on the clock."
A sudden hush fell over the room.
Rika swallowed hard, taking a slow, remarkably brave step into the center of the floorboards. Her lavender Prismatic sleepwear rustled softly as her trembling fingers reached for the front buttons.
"J-Just... please don't stare too much, Yuki..." she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the ambient hum of the cavern crystals.
I stood up from my chair, closing the distance between us with a slow, confident swagger.
"Oh, I am definitely going to stare, Rika," I chuckled, my voice low, gravelly, and completely unapologetic. "And I’m not just going to stare. My hands are going to be all over you, too."
Her breath hitched in her throat. Blushing fiercely from her collarbone to the tips of her ears, she let her sleep shirt slide off her shoulders, stepping completely out of her shorts.
She stood totally, breathtakingly bare under the warm amber lantern light.
I took a slow, appreciative breath, letting my dark eyes rake over every inch of her. Her build was a masterpiece of pure, sculpted athleticism. Years of high-level archery and track had forged tight, defined abs, a slender waist, and a firm, modest bust that sat proud and high on her chest. But the real treasure was lower down: long, powerfully toned thighs and an exceptionally firm, rounded rear that practically begged for a commanding hand.
"Hands on my shoulders," I murmured.
Before she could hesitate, I closed the remaining space. My hands clamped firmly onto the flare of her hips, hauling her athletic body completely flush against mine.
Rika let out a sharp gasp, her bare stomach pressing tight against my shirt. Her chest brushed my collarbone as she felt the sheer, immovable heat radiating from my limit-broken frame. She turned beet-red at the effortless display of dominance, her fingers instinctively digging into my shoulders for balance.
I didn't waste time. My broad, warm hands mapped the curve of her ribcage, tracing the firm, athletic slope of her breasts to measure the exact arch needed for archery draw-weight stability. My calloused thumbs lightly grazed the soft, sensitive skin beneath her bust, drawing a soft, trembling whimper from her throat.
"Top's done," I whispered.
My hands slid down her ribs, over the taut ridges of her stomach, and straight down to her lower half.
I didn't just measure her waist. My palms swept over the muscular curve of her hips, fingers sliding down the tight swell of her rear, before smoothing firmly along the sensitive, burning skin of her inner thighs.
Rika’s whole body jolted like she’d been struck by lightning.
"Ah—! Y-Yuki...!"
Her legs shook violently. Her toned thighs instinctively tried to clamp shut, trapping my hand between her burning skin.
I didn't pull away. I leaned forward, burying my face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her clean scent of citrus and fresh cedar as my fingers maintained their firm, steady pressure against her trembling inner thigh.
"Relax, Rika," I whispered directly into her ear, my warm breath sending goosebumps dancing down her spine. "It’s completely natural for your body to be turned on and slick right now. You don't have to hide it from me."
To drive the point home, my teeth caught the sensitive crest of her earlobe, giving it a slow, deliberate nibble.
Rika arched her back, a helpless, breathy moan vibrating against my collarbone as an electric shockwave of pure pleasure rippled straight down to her toes.
"Remember what I told you in the hall," I murmured against her skin, my voice softening into profound warmth. "The second your heart works through that trauma and your feelings are truly yours... I’m putting a ring on this finger."
Her breath caught, her golden eyes glistening with raw, unshed tears and deep affection as she gave a frantic, desperate nod against my shoulder.
Working directly against her bare skin, my tailoring skill flared to life.
Spun threads of silver-and-lavender mana wrapped snugly around her athletic hips. The Prismatic Cloth wove itself seamlessly into a pair of sleek, low-rise athletic briefs designed for maximum combat mobility, hugging her muscular curves like a second skin.
The second the fabric fused against her flesh, the enchanted material reacted.
FZZZT.
Sensory-reactive magic surged through the weave. Feeding on the intense, localized body heat and the slick moisture pooling between her thighs, the fabric violently shifted.
The clean, pristine white cloth turned an instant, radiant, unmistakable deep crimson.
The color was vivid, practically glowing under the lantern light—visually broadcasting to every single girl in the room the exact, unvarnished truth of how incredibly hot and heavily aroused the archery captain was beneath my touch.
Rika looked down.
She saw the bright crimson fabric clinging tightly to her curves.
"EEEEP—?!"
A frantic, high-pitched squeak tore from her throat. Her face burned so hot it looked ready to burst into literal flames.
"T-The fabric... it... it’s not... I mean—!"
Her knees completely turned to jelly. Stumbling backward in sheer, unadulterated mortification, Rika scrambled across the floorboards and dived straight onto her platform bed. She buried her blazing face into the plush quilts, pulling the blankets completely over her head to hide from the world.
Across the room, Ridley and Shizuku clutched each other's shoulders, giggling uncontrollably at the magic cloth's merciless giveaway, while the other sixteen girls watched with wide, fascinated, and deeply flustered eyes.
I stood in the center of the room, dusting off my hands with a thoroughly satisfied alpha smirk.
"Well," I chuckled, looking at the trembling bundle of blankets hiding the archery captain. "At least we know the fit is breathable."