Metaphorically.
Kouta and Shiro were a pop duo. They met when they took a music course together in college, and were now professional performers. They weren’t hugely successful, but they made enough to get by pretty well, until one day, the big break they’d been hoping for finally arrived… through the letterbox.
A single letter came through to the pair’s flat that day. “I’ll get it!” called Shiro to Kouta, who was in the kitchen eating some lunch. He picked up the letter, and when he saw what it was, he couldn’t help but punch the air in triumph. “YES!”
“What is it?” asked Kouta, poking his head from around the kitchen door, his mouth coated in ketchup.
“We’ve been invited to sing at the Burnt Building! Tomorrow night!”
“Sounds unhealthy”
“The Burnt Building? The hottest club in town?”
“Pffft.”
“Your knowledge of trends is frankly terrible.”
“Why bother with trends? The old stuff still works.” noted Kouta, taking a bite out of his bacon sandwich. Shiro sighed. Kouta was his best friend, but he could be really insufferable sometimes…
The next night, the two musicians arrived at the back door of the club, which seemed deathly quiet compared to the huge rabble at the front. The only person they could see was a ridiculously massive man who looked more like a gorilla in a suit than anything else. “Names?” He grunted at them, giving the pair a start. They hadn’t expected him to be capable of speech.
“I’m Kouta,” said Kouta (obviously), “and this is Shiro. We’re performing tonight.” The gorilla checked a clipboard tucked under his arm, then grunted in approval and nodded towards the door.
Inside the building, the two were greeted by the club’s owner, Larry Singe. It probably wasn’t his real name, but hey, when you run the hottest club in town, you can call yourself whatever the Hell you like. “Heey! Kouki! Shiori! Come in, come in!”
“It’s… Kouta and Shiro.” corrected Shiro, confused by Singe’s strange behaviour, and blinded by Singe’s strange suit.
“Right, right, whatever. Well, have we got an audience for you tonight! The place is packed! ...Admittedly, the place is pretty much always packed, but that doesn’t lessen the value of the audience any! Just one little favour to ask you two…” he buzzed around the room towards a computer in the corner and brought up a lyrics video on YouTube. It was some J-Pop stuff; not the kind of thing that’s overly popular in the West. “You can do whatever setlist you like, and I’m sure you’ve got a fabulous one lined up, but I’d just like you to start with this number. Trust me, it’ll go down a storm.”
“But… we don’t do J-Pop. We’re an R&--” started Kouta, but Singe cut him off.
“And you can do as much R&B as you like, if you start with this song. Otherwise, toodle-oo! We have a reserve act ready if you wanna back out…”
A few hushed words between the friends later, and Shiro responded. “We’ll do it.”
“I knew you’d come around.” smiled Singe.
Kouta stepped onto the stage, dressed in a crisp, expensive-looking white suit, complete with bow tie, though really it was quite a cheap thing. To tell the truth, he was a bag of nerves, but he hid it well. He had the J-Pop piece all memorised… it was weird, though. He heard it once and suddenly all the lyrics, all his cues, everything, he had learned off by heart, almost as if it belonged in his head.
The song started with a quick beat. He didn’t really notice, but with each beat Kouta’s short, neatly-cropped brown hair grew a centimetre until it was flowing down to his hips. Then it was his cue to start singing.
As he sang, he noticed, but didn’t really seem to care, that the world seemed to be growing around him. In actuality, he was getting shorter, and the tingling in his face wasn’t nerves- it was his face rearranging, giving him larger eyes and a cute, dainty nose in its now-heart-shaped frame.
Another beat area while Shiro sang, and with each beat, his arms felt a little weirder, not to mention colder. He wanted to look, but he had to stay professional. When it came to his next cue, he raised his mic to his lips and saw that his suit’s sleeves had receded into puffy shoulder sections, except for the very ends, which had somehow curled themselves around his hands as white gloves without his noticing. That wasn’t all, though: when he chanced a quick look down, he saw that the front of his suit had permanently closed itself, and a part of it - between his neck and lower part of his chest - had simply disappeared entirely.
Kouta’s turn to sing, and now each beat made his lower half feel, just like his arms, weirder and colder. he daren’t look down, but the reason was that his trousers had fused themselves to what was once his suit jacket and were now crawling up his legs, sticking together, billowing out, until the white suit had become a dress. Normally, this would look weird on a man, had his legs not reshaped themselves with womanly curves, coming up to wide hips and a large ass.
Just Shiro’s outro now, and, in time with the beat, something between his legs started disappearing as his chest began to balloon outwards, pushing tightly against his dress until a pair of large, feminine breasts rested there, considerable cleavage showing where part of his suit had vanished entirely. The wind machine turned on to accentuate the final beat, which both members of the duo sung, and Kouta blushed as the machine blew her dress upwards, revealing her smooth, pink panties. She looked over her shoulder to see that a similar thing had happened to Shiro, though she wore a pink-and-black dress with stripy stockings and a small top hat perched on her head.
“Ladies and gentlemen...the hottest new pop duo out there… Kouki and Shiori!” boomed a voice from the large speakers on either side of the stage, and the names settled in the girls’ heads… they were their names now. They took a bow and strolled off stage for the next act. This had been their big break, alright...
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Kouta and Shiro were a pop duo. They met when they took a music course together in college, and were now professional performers. They weren’t hugely successful, but they made enough to get by pretty well, until one day, the big break they’d been hoping for finally arrived… through the letterbox.
A single letter came through to the pair’s flat that day. “I’ll get it!” called Shiro to Kouta, who was in the kitchen eating some lunch. He picked up the letter, and when he saw what it was, he couldn’t help but punch the air in triumph. “YES!”
“What is it?” asked Kouta, poking his head from around the kitchen door, his mouth coated in ketchup.
“We’ve been invited to sing at the Burnt Building! Tomorrow night!”
“Sounds unhealthy”
“The Burnt Building? The hottest club in town?”
“Pffft.”
“Your knowledge of trends is frankly terrible.”
“Why bother with trends? The old stuff still works.” noted Kouta, taking a bite out of his bacon sandwich. Shiro sighed. Kouta was his best friend, but he could be really insufferable sometimes…
The next night, the two musicians arrived at the back door of the club, which seemed deathly quiet compared to the huge rabble at the front. The only person they could see was a ridiculously massive man who looked more like a gorilla in a suit than anything else. “Names?” He grunted at them, giving the pair a start. They hadn’t expected him to be capable of speech.
“I’m Kouta,” said Kouta (obviously), “and this is Shiro. We’re performing tonight.” The gorilla checked a clipboard tucked under his arm, then grunted in approval and nodded towards the door.
Inside the building, the two were greeted by the club’s owner, Larry Singe. It probably wasn’t his real name, but hey, when you run the hottest club in town, you can call yourself whatever the Hell you like. “Heey! Kouki! Shiori! Come in, come in!”
“It’s… Kouta and Shiro.” corrected Shiro, confused by Singe’s strange behaviour, and blinded by Singe’s strange suit.
“Right, right, whatever. Well, have we got an audience for you tonight! The place is packed! ...Admittedly, the place is pretty much always packed, but that doesn’t lessen the value of the audience any! Just one little favour to ask you two…” he buzzed around the room towards a computer in the corner and brought up a lyrics video on YouTube. It was some J-Pop stuff; not the kind of thing that’s overly popular in the West. “You can do whatever setlist you like, and I’m sure you’ve got a fabulous one lined up, but I’d just like you to start with this number. Trust me, it’ll go down a storm.”
“But… we don’t do J-Pop. We’re an R&--” started Kouta, but Singe cut him off.
“And you can do as much R&B as you like, if you start with this song. Otherwise, toodle-oo! We have a reserve act ready if you wanna back out…”
A few hushed words between the friends later, and Shiro responded. “We’ll do it.”
“I knew you’d come around.” smiled Singe.
Kouta stepped onto the stage, dressed in a crisp, expensive-looking white suit, complete with bow tie, though really it was quite a cheap thing. To tell the truth, he was a bag of nerves, but he hid it well. He had the J-Pop piece all memorised… it was weird, though. He heard it once and suddenly all the lyrics, all his cues, everything, he had learned off by heart, almost as if it belonged in his head.
The song started with a quick beat. He didn’t really notice, but with each beat Kouta’s short, neatly-cropped brown hair grew a centimetre until it was flowing down to his hips. Then it was his cue to start singing.
As he sang, he noticed, but didn’t really seem to care, that the world seemed to be growing around him. In actuality, he was getting shorter, and the tingling in his face wasn’t nerves- it was his face rearranging, giving him larger eyes and a cute, dainty nose in its now-heart-shaped frame.
Another beat area while Shiro sang, and with each beat, his arms felt a little weirder, not to mention colder. He wanted to look, but he had to stay professional. When it came to his next cue, he raised his mic to his lips and saw that his suit’s sleeves had receded into puffy shoulder sections, except for the very ends, which had somehow curled themselves around his hands as white gloves without his noticing. That wasn’t all, though: when he chanced a quick look down, he saw that the front of his suit had permanently closed itself, and a part of it - between his neck and lower part of his chest - had simply disappeared entirely.
Kouta’s turn to sing, and now each beat made his lower half feel, just like his arms, weirder and colder. he daren’t look down, but the reason was that his trousers had fused themselves to what was once his suit jacket and were now crawling up his legs, sticking together, billowing out, until the white suit had become a dress. Normally, this would look weird on a man, had his legs not reshaped themselves with womanly curves, coming up to wide hips and a large ass.
Just Shiro’s outro now, and, in time with the beat, something between his legs started disappearing as his chest began to balloon outwards, pushing tightly against his dress until a pair of large, feminine breasts rested there, considerable cleavage showing where part of his suit had vanished entirely. The wind machine turned on to accentuate the final beat, which both members of the duo sung, and Kouta blushed as the machine blew her dress upwards, revealing her smooth, pink panties. She looked over her shoulder to see that a similar thing had happened to Shiro, though she wore a pink-and-black dress with stripy stockings and a small top hat perched on her head.
“Ladies and gentlemen...the hottest new pop duo out there… Kouki and Shiori!” boomed a voice from the large speakers on either side of the stage, and the names settled in the girls’ heads… they were their names now. They took a bow and strolled off stage for the next act. This had been their big break, alright...
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