MHA REINCARNATION!

(Guys this was a fucking struggle but I did it!)

The stale air of the campus bar hung heavy, a miasma of spilled beer and forgotten conversations. I, Mineta Minoru, or at least the college-aged, somewhat taller and surprisingly more hirsute version of myself, nursed a lukewarm ale. I'd successfully navigated the awkward terrain of higher education, even managed to grow out my hair into something vaguely resembling a manageable mop. Though, if I was being honest, my inner pervert was still very much alive and kicking. Tonight, though, something felt…off. A strange lightness, a buzzing in my limbs. I chalked it up to the cheap beer and called it a night, heading back to my dorm.

The next morning, the world was skewed. The familiar weight of my own body felt…wrong. Panic flared as I looked down. My chest, where a rather flat expanse usually resided, was now… decidedly rounded. I stumbled to the mirror and stared at the face that looked back. It was me, but softened, the features delicate and… well, female. My hair, longer than ever, cascaded around my shoulders. My voice, when I dared to speak, was higher pitched, a melodic tremble I barely recognized.

I was a girl.

The initial shock gave way to an unnerving curiosity. It was Saturday, no classes, so I did what any slightly bewildered, newly-transformed person would do: I went shopping. The mall was a bizarre, almost euphoric experience. Dresses, skirts, the soft texture of fabric against my newly sensitive skin. It felt… liberating, strange, but undeniably good. Life as a girl, I concluded, wasn't half bad.

That is, until the second week. The cramps started on a Tuesday, a low, persistent ache that quickly morphed into a hellish, gut-wrenching pain. It was followed by the strange, unsettling heat, a prickly sensitivity that made even the softest fabric feel abrasive. My body was a battlefield of opposing hormonal armies. Then, after what felt like an eternity, it ended, but with an unwelcome side effect. The horniness. It was a constant, simmering undercurrent, a low hum of desire that made my already chaotic new existence even more bewildering.

The guys, the guys. They were everywhere. I'd gone out to grab a coffee one afternoon and it was like I was a beacon of attention, whistles, catcalls, cheesy pick-up lines hurled at me like stones. I was annoyed, vulnerable, and more than a little scared. I fled, practically running, until I crashed into someone, sending their drink splashing onto the sidewalk. The familiar scent of old leather and sandalwood made my stomach flutter.

"Mineta?!" Milo, my childhood friend, stood before me, his brow furrowed with concern. He was taller, his shoulders broader, his eyes the same warm brown I remembered, only now holding a hint of something… else.

I grabbed at him, half-sobbing and we walk to his nearby apartment, "Milo, help, I - I turned into a girl!" 

He listened, his expression shifting from surprise to something akin to understanding as I rambled about the sudden transformation, the periods, the overwhelming horniness.

"The bar," Milo said, his eyes narrowing. "It had to be those drinks. It had to be some sort of reaction. It will fade soon, you'll see."

He pulled me into a hug, and it felt… different. His body heat against mine was a completely foreign sensation. And then he recoiled slightly, sniffing the air. "What perfume is that? You smell… sweet."

"La La Land,1" I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flush.

His eyes widened. "That's… that's an aphrodisiac perfume," he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "It's designed to make you more… attractive."

My skin prickled as the reality of that statement sunk in. No wonder everyone had been acting like a bunch of horny dogs.

A whine escaped my lips as Milo's knee bumped against the edge of my skirt, sending a shiver down to my core. I felt a blush creep up my neck.

"Sorry!" Milo's face was a mask of embarrassment. "I didn't -"

"It's okay," I whispered, and then the words tumbled out before I could stop myself. "Milo... can you... can you help me with… this?" My voice was a breathy plea, laced with a vulnerability I hadn't known I possessed. Could he? Would he? What would this change between us - would this make us gay after I transform back?

Milo's blush deepened. He looked at me, his gaze intense, then he nodded. "Yes," he breathed.

It started with a kiss, tentative at first, then with mounting passion. Another kiss, then another, until our mouths were locked together, a tangle of tongues and soft moans. His hands moved from my waist to my neck, leaving a trail of burning sensations in their wake. And then, he was kissing down to my collarbone, lingering on my neck, leaving a visible hickey as I gasped. He explored my thighs next and I was a complete mess of whimpers and moans. The world narrowed to the feel of his lips, his skin on mine.

He pulled away, flushed and breathless. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," I answered, a little too breathlessly and loudly.

We moved to his bedroom, and I couldn't help but admire the sculpted muscles of his torso as he took off his shirt. A six-pack, toned arms, it was… distracting. "Mineta, may I help you undress?" he asked, his eyes holding a shy intensity.

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat. His fingers brushed against my skin, the contact sending a jolt of pure sensation through me. He slid the skirt down my legs, lingering for a moment at the waistband of my panties before slowly peeling them off as well. The air between us crackled with anticipation, a palpable tension that had nothing to do with the perfume.

He pressed me down on the bed, his weight a welcome pressure. He was slow, agonizingly so, as he entered me. A sharp pain gave way to a slow burn, a deep ache that was more pleasure than pain. I screamed into the pillow, my body convulsing, as he pushed deeper, faster. It was a sensation unlike anything I'd ever experienced, a wild ride of pure, raw pleasure.

Hours later, tangled in his sheets, exhaustion washing over me, I looked at Milo. Guilt gnawed at me. "I'm sorry," I murmured, "for putting you through all of that."

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "I'm not sorry," he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. He leaned in, kissing me gently. "In fact," he added, pulling back slightly, "how would you feel about going on a date?"

A genuine smile spread across my face, the first genuine smile since the transformation. Tonight had been more than just an experiment, it was something real, something beautiful, in the most bizarre of ways. "I'd like that," I said, my voice shaky with emotion. More than anything, I wanted it.