Steve added the full stop to the text.
The moment the period dropped into place, a crisp ding echoed in the air, and in front of him, a glowing text box materialized.
[Ding!]
The system notification hovered there silently before lines of text streamed across its surface like a digital prophecy unfolding before his eyes.
[Task completed!]
He smiled.
He gently shuffled the notebook closed, balancing it on his palm. Then, folding his arms, he leaned back.
His fingers tapped softly against his sleeve as he slowly lowered his head, his face melting into a calm, confident grin.
His thoughts came in quietly.
'Hehe… now the deed is done. All I have to do is wait.'
The thought lingered.
'It wasn't easy to think about this… but it wasn't that hard either.'
He exhaled through his nose, steady and slow.
'...In a real, normal circumstance, these sorts of coincidences would've been supremely impossible.'
But then he glanced at the notebook again, and his grin twitched wider.
'But with the Author's Notebook at hand… hell, I can make the impossible possible.'
He tilted his head.
'Still… real life isn't exactly a manga or an anime. But even so… there's a chance. Yeah. There's still a chance.'
His hands moved on their own, stroking the notebook's cover like it was something sacred.
'I'm really getting the hang of this thing.'
'It's only been a day, and already… I've created some good love harem for myself.'
He chuckled under his breath, eyes gleaming with subtle madness.
"Who knows? Maybe I could add in a little more…"
"...magic."
His tongue rolled slowly across his bottom lip.
"Yeah… that wouldn't be bad. I mean… That wouldn't be so bad."
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
'It wouldn't be bad to have powers.'
'Imagine if I could control an element, like Maggie... Or if I was some kind of dragon rider… or a necromancer.'
'Like all those manga characters I used to read about back in my old world.'
He sighed deeply.
'That would be… extremely worthwhile.'
Then his eyes flicked to the notebook once more.
'But still…I already have the greatest magic of them all...The Author's Notebook.'
He nodded to himself.
'With it...'
A chuckle escaped his lips, unforced and satisfied.
'With it… I could most definitely become a magician. Who knows? Maybe I'll become the first male magician in history.'
His head tilted slightly, the thought lingering in his mouth.
"Yeah…" he muttered softly.
"That doesn't sound so bad to say."
But then—
A faint sound reached him. A stutter. Sharp. Sudden.
His brow rose slightly.
He tilted his head, listening closer.
It came again. A nervous, soft mutter that barely reached his ears.
Tonya.
It was Tonya's voice, drifting in from the dressing room. Quiet… shaky… and uncertain.
'Hmm...Oh… it's already started.' he thought, a sly grin curling at the edge of his lips.
Then came a few soft groans—short, breathy, feminine. The sound stirred something deep inside him.
And then her voice came clear this time.
"Steve."
His eyes slowly fluttered open.
"Yeah?" he muttered lazily.
"Um… I need your help with something."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Help with what?"
"I'm… kind of stuck."
He blinked.
'Go with the flow man...' he thought.
'Just go with it.'
"Stuck how?" he asked aloud, dragging out the syllables.
"I mean…" she hesitated,
"the dress is too small. It won't go. I can't put it on, and… I can't take it off either. It's just stuck. I—I need your help. Do you mind?"
He took a slow breath, letting out a soft puff, then rose to his feet with a small groan.
His face twisted, half-annoyed, half-amused.
"You are such a baby, Tonya." he said aloud with a huff as he walked over.
'Okay, here I come.' he added.
He reached for the curtain and gently slid it open, stepping in cautiously.
Her back was turned to him.
The dress was yanked up around her waist, where it had gotten stuck.
And what a view.
Her smooth, mocha skin shimmered under the soft light, her curvy hips framed by the trapped fabric.
The round curve of her ass sat plump and perfect, tight and helpless inside the too-small dress. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her bare shoulders stiff with embarrassment.
Steve's eyes lingered.
'Goddamn.'
'This girl's body…'
'The way her hips flare out from that tiny waist… her ass looks like it was sculpted. How did I even make someone this perfect?'
He took a single step forward, heartbeat a little faster.
"Alright." he said, voice dropping into a casual murmur.
"Let's get you unstuck."
Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, shielding her bare skin as she kept her face turned away. She looked vulnerable—tense yet strangely calm in the soft light of the room.
He took a slow step closer, his voice low and unsure.
"Okay… so what do you want me to do?"
Without looking at him, she muttered,
"Just… take it off. And shut your eyes."
She tried to sound confident, but her voice carried the tremble of hesitation.
He didn't shut his eyes. Instead, they remained wide open, quietly tracing the outline of her form, watching the way she clutched herself—both defiant and uncertain.
He reached for the fabric, lifting it with delicate fingers.
"Alright." he whispered, more to himself than to her, and stepped in closer. The hem resisted. He gave it another gentle tug—still nothing. His brows furrowed in confusion.
"It's… not coming off." he said.
Her head turned slightly.
"What do you mean, it's not coming off? Just take it off already."
"I'm trying." he said, chuckling softly.
"But it's kind of stuck. I might need some help."
She scoffed, a quick sound of disbelief.
"Don't you dare call Lemon in here..." she snapped.
"...I don't want him seeing me like this."
"Then help me out." he said with a crooked smile.
"Extra hands wouldn't hurt."
Steve was truly a maniacal harem genius.
She paused, clearly weighing her options. Then she let out a soft
"tsk" and shook her head.
"Are you seriously that weak?" she muttered.
Slowly, almost shyly, she let her arms slip away from her chest, her hands falling to her sides as her full, heavy breasts spilled free—lush and bare, their soft weight swaying gently with the motion, no longer hidden from his hungry eyes.
The sudden openness of the moment stole the breath from his throat. Then, carefully, she placed her hands at the edge of the dress and nodded.
"Alright… let's do it together."
He nodded back and adjusted his grip, this time sliding one hand lower—toward the round curve of her hip. His fingers brushed the soft swell of her fattened ass cheeks, and as he tried to ease the fabric down, his hand drifted lower, gliding across the smooth supple flesh.
It was an innocent motion at first, but the softness under his palm drew his touch like gravity.
His fingers curled slightly, barely squeezing, just enough to feel the warmth and give of her skin. The sensation pulsed through him, electric and irresistible. A slow, aching heat built within him.
Tonya's breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed deep red.
"What… what are you doing?" she stuttered.
"What?" he said, feigning innocence, though the heat rising between them was impossible to ignore.
"I'm just trying to take off the dress."
Her lips parted, but she said nothing.
"Alright." Steve whispered, drawing closer. His breath brushed her ear as he added,
"Let's try again."
This time, his hands moved with purpose. He gripped her full, round ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he gave it a slow, greedy squeeze.
She gasped—quietly, but the sound was sharp, involuntary. The jolt it sent through both of them left no doubt: the moment had shifted.
Steve leaned closer, his lips near her ear.
"Ready?" he murmured, voice low and thick with tension
***
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