Tracen Academy's Staff Room.
A locale that was commonly associated with a short stint of quiet solace, typically succeeded by the unusually poor timing of a given Umamusume bursting through the doors and disrupting whatever modicum of peace the resting Trainers, such as yourself, could grasp...
Your legs felt like lead. Not unusual after a long day of coaching, but it certainly put a bit of a damper on your usual alertness. Limbs still burning with flares of exhaustion that lingered beneath the skin, you rolled your neck along the back of one of the less than comfortable folding chairs and strained until you could catch a glimpse of the front door from the corner of your eye.
Not a single movement.
Huh. It's usually right as you think about how peaceful things are that you're bombarded by someone asking you to do something, but the day's preordained chaos seemed... delayed.
"Guess I'll... do something?" Your body tensed almost involuntarily, as if fighting you from getting up. With a quick swing of your arms, you propelled yourself to your legs and got to work, deciding to use the second-wind for something productive. And so, what could've been (and what your body wanted to be) an extension of your leisure time had turned into an impromptu cleaning session.
Many of the horse girls who strode in and out of here either acted like they owned the place or like they didn't have a care in the world, usually resulting in the office's post twister state. Or, as you've come to call it, the "norm."
Binders back in their respective cabinets, towels folded and stacked neatly, each time you found one thing, two more appeared, until you were finally left with a pair of... shoes?
Ankle boots, to be more accurate, designed in a way that made them look more like modified loafers than something that resembled a traditional boot. A wry smile crossed your lips, a dry laugh escaping from them right after.
Of course, being the dutiful and meticulous Trainer you were, you knew full well whose these were.
They belonged to an enigmatic and eccentric young woman, one who'd taken to treating you borderline like a servant.
A guinea pig, if you will.
One Miss Agnes Tachyon.
Her constant, obsessive research left her a one track mess, more often than not, forcing you to pick up the slack as she blatantly ignored pretty much every sense of common decency in the hopes of getting just a few more seconds to her experiments. "Personal caretaker" was a more apt description of your duties when it came to her, the Umamusume flat out refusing to partake in her training duties if you failed to service her properly.
That, conveniently enough, was precisely how the footwear had become discarded in here to begin with. Shortly after today's earlier training session, Tachyon made her usual laundry list of requests and left to return to experimenting on who knows who. A top priority on that list, printed in big, bold letters, was "CLEAN SHOES. DO LAUNDRY." It struck you as odd at the time, seeing as how she didn't seem to be the type to care about her general cleanliness, but you took note of it anyway... then promptly forgot to do it and passed out.
Well, now seemed just as good a time as any to do it.
You crouched down, picking up the abandoned ankle boots and immediately catching a thick, pungent scent wafting up from the insoles. The aroma was powerful ripe, musky, and strangely intoxicating. You turned one of the shoes over in your hands, examining the scuffed leather and the telltale marks of Tachyon's relentless energy. The space just over its entrance seemed to distort and shimmer, residual heat from her earlier antics cascading out from its insides. A truly awful experience that your senses had the displeasure of experiencing directly...
...You hardly even noticed it, but you had pressed your nose closer, unabashedly letting the scent dominate your thoughts. It was oddly comforting a strange, forbidden pleasure that made your heart beat a little faster. Inhibitions withered away, your own desires muddying your common sense as you brought the other shoe to join in.
Unable to resist, you took another, more deliberate sniff, savoring the way the smell lingered and stung your nose. For a brief moment, the exhaustion in your muscles faded, replaced by a peculiar sort of satisfaction. You wondered, with a wry smile, what kind of experiments Tachyon would dream up if she ever caught you like this
"Trainer~!" You weren't sure in what order everything occurred, but in the following moments, the shoes had left your hands, your head had spun around, and your blissful grin had pursed into a tight, panicked line. There she was Agnes Tachyon, the Academy's resident mad scientist, infamous for her relentless curiosity and disregard for social norms. With perpetually tousled hair and a lab coat that seemed to have seen one too many chemical spills hanging around her school uniform, she radiated an energy that was equal parts infectious and alarming.
Her sharp, inquisitive eyes darted around the room, already dissecting the scene at an unfathomable speed, while a sly, knowing smile played at the corners of her lips. It was impossible to tell whether she was about to share a breakthrough or expose you for every last wrongdoing she'd potentially witnessed in the last couple of minutes. In all her manic glory, she had arrived, standing in the doorway with her usual, wide gaze and ponderous smirk. When did she open the door? How long had she been watching? "Good thing you're here! I've got another series of requests for you!"
Agnes was one of the Umamusume who both acted like she owned the place and like she didn't have a care in the world. A devious combination that meant trouble for your current mental spiral. But, wild as she was, she at least seemed to be acting normal a fact that brought you some measure of relief as she got straight to making her daily orders. You shut your eyes for all but a moment, letting out a brief huff of relief. You were in the clear
THU-THUMP!
You didn't know it then, but those foreboding, twin thuds against a wooden surface marked the countdown to your destruction. "I need a massage, my guinea pig~!" Eyelids shooting open in a rush, you found Tachyon's bare, tantalising soles resting on a coffee table stained with every beverage but its namesake. "Today rather than later would be nice. Isn't this what Trainers are for?" Of course, she only treated you as a trainer when she wanted things like this...!
Obviously, you couldn't see yourself, but if you could, you were positive you'd be white as a sheet. "S-Sorry..." You stepped closer subconsciously, doing your best to ignore the magnetic pull her bare feet seemed to have. It didn't help that her toes curled with a set of pops and cracks that sent a heart wrenching tingle down your spine, flexing as if they were beckoning you closer. Jelly legs carried you close enough to kneel on the opposite side of the furniture, but no further. Just beyond the heavenly sight of her slender soles, Tachyon's eyes crested the horizon, shooting an uncomfortably familiar look into your own...
A look she typically gave you only when she solved a puzzle. One that couldn't have possibly meant a single good thing in a scenario like—
"Enjoying the smell~?" Her feet had stretched forward at some point. No, that's not right. You'd brought yourself closer, nose merely an inch away from the gap between the two largest toes on her right foot.
"Mmph?!" A gargled, strained squeak — paired with an amused hum from the Umamusume who'd caused it — died in your throat. How in the hell did you even get here? And what do you even say? "U-Uh... I-I don't know... Sweaty...?"
Clink!
A clink? Her smile widened. The trap was sprung. "Oho? That's an odd way—" she raised her hand, revealing a half-empty teacup and its accompanying plate. "—to describe a beverage. Or did you think I meant something else~?"
This woman was going to be the death of you. "No, no! Of course not... I just tripped over my words, that's all..."
You forced your gaze downward, focusing on Tachyon's feet, ignoring the rapidly growing smug grin on her face. Swallowing your nerves, you reached out and carefully cradled her feet in your hands, handling them as though they might shatter at a careless touch. The warmth of her skin was of no surprise to you, a gentle heat radiating from heel to toe, every subtle twitch and flex betraying her restless energy even now.
Tachyon's eyes glinted with a scientist's curiosity as you curled your fingers around the top of her foot, digging your thumbs into the shallow curve of her arch. You drew a slow, deliberate circle into the groove of her foot. She watched with rapt attention, as though you were the subject of her next experiment — or perhaps the experiment itself. Each gentle squeeze felt like a test. A test of your composure, of her patience, of the unspoken tension humming in the air between you. You took hold of a fleeting sense of boldness, taking a sneaky whiff of the peds that stood before you, and... wow.
Her racing shoes were… certainly something, but you'd at least half-expected the accomplished (and you use that term very loosely) scientist's usual scent to consist of chemicals and something else not suitable for human consumption. And to an extent, it did, but instead, it mainly just left you feeling weak. In a good way.
A soft, approving hum escaped her lips, and you scrambled to act as if nothing had happened. "What a wonderful feeling, trainer." The word felt like it had lost any of the reverence and respect it was meant to hold. "Careful, now. My feet are a crucial asset for research, you know.~"
Your cheeks flared red, but your hands moved with growing confidence, gliding along the smooth arch, kneading away the stress you could feel coiled in her muscles. Tachyon's toes flexed and splayed in response, and the faintest sigh of pleasure drifted down to mingle with the scent of tea and leather lingering in the air.
You did your best to ignore the way her gaze lingered on your every move, cataloguing your reactions with clinical precision.
"So, do you enjoy them?" Them? She was just teasing you again, you reasoned. No need to even bother humouring her by dividing your attention. If you looked up, she was just going to be holding something, reveal you were being tricked, and— "My feet, I mean~"
Your heart seized. Dear God, this woman would be the death of you. Was this experiment to see if she could make your heart explode?! "I have no idea what you're talking about—!"
A foot slipped from your palms, advancing towards your face in a steady, crescendo, the final note of which found itself caught in the middle between her blushing sole and your equally red cheeks. Her toes splayed and flexed with the same uneasy excitement you could see in her eyes, a curiousness of unknown proportion fueling their movements as they explored more and more of your face. Their smell was a poison. And it broke down what little facade of composure you'd managed to keep up until now, even if both of you already knew what hid behind it.
The thought to remove it, fleeting as it was, streaked through your body and into your arms. By instinct, you reached to remove the warm foot from your face, only somewhat hampered by the goading look in Tachyon's eye. But, just as you wrangled the final remnants of your self-control, the foot retreated just as quickly as it had come. Only to be replaced with another as she lightly stamped your face.
"Oh, please." Her musk had become imprinted onto your brain by this point, making you something of an unwillingly qualified judge. All this to say, you knew what you were saying when you felt something smelled a bit... odd as her other foot joined back in, cradling your face between her peds as she rubbed and adjusted your head until you were staring right at her. Right into her domineering eyes. "Did you really think I didn't catch you sniffing my race shoes earlier? I know I asked you to clean them, but I didn't think you'd choose such an inefficient method of doing so~!"
There's no way she couldn't feel your cheeks heating up from beneath her feet. "I-I—"
"Shhh~" Her right foot slid down your face, leaving a warm streak of lingering heat behind as her big toe pressed softly against your lips. "You'll need to save your breath for later, guinea pig." The phrase felt... stronger now. It settled in your mind with gradual, uneasy pressure, like a migraine that refused to take its leave. Gravity felt like it'd increased tenfold, and it took all you had just to keep your head from slamming against the table, though Tachyon's foot resting under your chin was likely doing much of the work. "Just fall asleep for now. We have much to do when you wake up~"
Gravity was still your enemy, even going so far as to fight against the very act of your eyes opening. Your whole body ached and throbbed, making getting up nearly impossible.
But of everything, the thing that kept you down the hardest was the heat. An unbearable, strength-sapping mugginess wrapped you in its stifling embrace, making the very act of standing seem like a far-off impossibility.
Rest was the one thing you wished for right now.
Unfortunately, the purveyor of your fate had other plans.
And now, as you fought through every single thing that held you down, you realised that you were in no position to deny her will.
Before, she was just a whirlwind. Now, she was a force of nature.
"Finally awake, guinea pig?" You could hardly believe the sight. Tachyon was... mountainous. Her powerful, toned legs still rested on the coffee table, though you now joined them on the soiled, wooden surface. An almost godlike presence, if you truly had to describe her. And if you were reading the look in her eyes correctly, she agreed wholeheartedly. "I suppose I can spare you an explanation. I poured a bit of this—" she retrieved a concoction from her pocket, shaking it lazily before sliding it back into place. A creation of her own, no doubt. "—to shrink you and run a few experiments. Initially, I was going to trick you into giving me a massage and have it work its magic from there... Well, I guess that is what I did, but walking in on that display of yours made my job delightfully simple, hmhm~!"
This was her plan from the very start?!
"Now now, I'm the one who should be angry here! Not only did you commit such a grave invasion of my privacy, but your withholding of this interest from me has stolen away countless hours of potential research time! Imagine how many times I could've had you begging to be my subject if I'd simply flashed you a glimpse of my poor, tired toes~" The digits squirmed with a faux exhaustion to help drive her point home. "But! All shall be forgiven if you help me with a couple of experiments! And I'm sure my itty-bitty guinea pig wouldn't dare deny me at this size, hm~?"
The thinly veiled threat was, in fact, very thinly veiled. Disagreeing wasn't an option. Not if you wanted to remain in your state of relative safety.
"Perfect~!" You hadn't even said anything yet, but it didn't matter. She didn't truly plan on leaving you a choice anyway. Not now that she had such a thrilling subject before her. "Now, continue your previous task. I'm going to track your responses as you go~"
Continue? The flustered heart in your chest quickened the higher your eyes climbed, reaching its peak as you caught sight of the smooth curve of her toes. You knew what she wanted you to do... but really? Heat stirred in your crotch, your mouth growing drier by the second. She couldn't possibly mean—
"Subject is aroused even without contact..." The telltale sound of pen on wood-backed paper whispered in the distance, and Tachyon's words suddenly made you painfully aware of how naked you were. Hands rushed to your crotch in a vain attempt at preserving any dignity. Only for the last of it to vanish as the oversized Umamusume tittered at your embarrassment. "What's wrong, guinea pig? Feeling... small?"
You clenched your teeth at the pun, equal parts cringing and internally dying of humiliation at the exchange.
"Shaking like a leaf, hm~?" Her feet scooted forward, making the table tremble beneath her weight. "I won't judge, but I will need you to remove those hands of yours before you get started; I need a good look at your current state and all."
A shuddering hiss found its way through your clenched teeth. The desire to... to do something to get back at her was annoyingly strong, yet so was the knowledge that you could do nothing about it. You reluctantly pulled your hands away and stepped forth, Tachyon's eyes zipping up and down your nude body like she was analyzing a sculpture. "Superb, little one! Now, don't keep me waiting~"
Your first step in, and your body was already engulfed in that warm, familiar scent. Her feet had cooled off significantly while you were asleep, its more powerful aromas vanishing along with the heat. But that didn't mean it had disappeared completely. Rather, it now hovered closer to its source. And you had just crossed its boundary. Her wanton experiments and spurts of training had left her feet with a strange, yet addictive smell of chemicals and sweat — an earthy cocktail that, combined with your inherent attraction, only made you continue on until you were, frankly, too close.
Guided by a shaky resolve, you pressed your palms to her heel, your hands dwarfed by the sheer size of her foot. The skin yielded slightly beneath your touch, soft and pliant, yet firm with the underlying athleticism you'd always admired. You started with broad, timid strokes, kneading her heel as if worshipping the craftsmanship of her form. A soft, approving hum vibrated above you.
"Up, guinea pig. I need a proper sample of your technique," Tachyon's voice chimed, notes of mischief and scientific interest lacing her words. Obediently, you moved higher, your fingers tracing the gentle rise of her arch. Every press and rub sent subtle ripples of pleasure through her foot, and you felt her toes flex in response, the muscle beneath your hands coming alive. "Oh, and tongue out~"
That callous command alone nearly did you in, heart skipping over an entire measure as you struggled to rein in your desires. "I'm waiting, guinea pig." No getting out of this one, it seemed. You press your lips to the arch of Tachyon's foot, the faint salty tang immediately awakening your senses. Each kiss deepens your fascination, and soon the taste becomes addictive — almost overwhelming. Your heart hammers in your chest, striking hard against your ribs as you run your tongue slowly along the curve of her heel, letting the flavor linger, wanting more with every breath. Half-expecting roughened patches of flesh, you even sank your teeth into the edge of her heel, not managing to do much but earn yourself an extra mouthful of supple skin and mocking laugh from your "owner." "Softer than you thought, hm? I'm almost offended that you thought so little of my self-care; these feet and legs are mine are so very important to my research, so of course they're kept in pristine condition." You didn't want to hear that from the woman who could hardly cook for herself, but the logic was sound... enough.
Desire threatens to sweep you away, urging you to give in to the craving building inside. But you fight to keep control, forcing yourself to slow down, to worship with intention rather than desperation. Each touch blurs the line between devotion and mere obedience, but you grit your teeth, determined not to let this obsession master you.
Her skin was warm, almost inviting, and the pliant arch swallowed your movements whole. Your resistance was a glass vase — thin, delicate, and threatening to shatter your composure with every knead and slurp.
Above, Tachyon scribbled on her notepad, pupils dilated with excitement. "Fascinating. Heart rate elevated, motor control slightly impaired — subject shows strong physiological response to contact. Strong signs of attraction. Ah — don't stop now, we're just getting to the interesting part~" Her words hardly registered, but your movements grew faster, stronger. Work was quick and thorough, covering every square inch with utmost efficiency... until you couldn't reach any higher. "Aw, is it too high~? I suppose I should take some initiative of my own!"
What does that mean? was the first question that came to mind, but its answer appeared before you could even try to vocalize it.
The air quivered as the sole you were tending to pitched and lurched. It was lowering.
Fight or flight screamed for a response, but even though the latter won out in your mind, your body simply refused to move. Another, more potent, primal urge eclipsed your fear for your own safety, locking you in place as the jubilant scientist's ped fell until it graced your face with a gentle kiss of its flesh.
"Subject's fear response has diminished. Greatly~" Her words were transcribed just as she spoke them, your most embarrassing tendencies put to paper as if you were nothing but a lab rat.
But I practically am, aren't I? You flat-out refused to give her any more satisfaction than she already had, instead deciding that continuing your time would be better spent finishing the task she'd assigned you. Forced into a crouch, you at least were thankful for the more extensive access to the length of the foot you'd been given. Every once in a while, as your hands moved further up, the foot would be lowered just a bit more, signaled by a satisfied purr that you could feel reverberate through her foot.
"Hm..." she hummed, a few agonizingly slow minutes later. Your arms were burning from the sheer amount of effort you'd put in, and she was beginning to feel you slow down. "Reaching your limit? How pitiful~ But I suppose I can take over from here."
The pressure doubled — no, tripled — fighting against your arms in a battle you were destined to lose.
And lose you did. Deep breaths filled your lungs with sullied air as the foot tried to cozy up to you. It felt like you were preparing to take the plunge into an inescapable ocean of plush flesh. Even then, your preparation was for naught; the lightest press against your chest, and what little air you managed to gather was replaced by a wayward glob of sweat. Without so much as a whimper as your arms were forced to your sides, the ball of her foot descended and overwhelmed you in one fell swoop until both you and it hit the table with a muted thump.
Gooey flesh wasted no time embracing your full, awaiting body. Hot, pliant skin rolled over your crotch with an overpowering authority, stealing the breath from your lips as you subconsciously began to buck and grind your delicates against her wrinkled arch.
"Such a display of devotion!" The scientist jotted a couple more things down, matching your movements with gentle twists of her ankle. Undulating waves of pressure and pleasure streaked through your senses, each flex and press of her foot sending sparks along your nerves. The last vestiges of control shattered, and your tongue was unleashed, worshipping every patch of skin you could reach with a reverence that bordered on obsession.
Tachyon's foot lingered on your form for a few drawn-out moments, her gaze darting between her notepad and your face every time she peeled her foot away, tracking every twitch and shiver. Then, with a sudden flare of curiosity, she eased her foot off and reached below the table, letting you bask in the afterglow as a trail of saliva thinned and broke. She took careful track of your wheezes and groans as she retrieved a couple of objects, one in each hand, and looked over them in her hands.
In her right was a simple, casual flat — one you'd seen before. It was a common part of her casual outfit that she never seemed to change.
In her left, her racing shoe. At your full size, it was a delectable source of her scent, but now? It made your face go pale.
Lifting the racing shoe with a critical, almost analytical eye, Tachyon cocked her head. "You know, guinea pig, I would quite like to continue the experiment inside one of these~" She held the racing shoe aloft, inspecting its insole. 'Worn' was probably the nicest way to describe it. Though its outside was well-maintained, courtesy of your own efforts, its inside was a sanctum of filth and sweat, housing a horrendous odor that, while fulfilling at normal size, had to have been downright toxic at your current height.
Not to mention what being in there truly meant. Tachyon, like every other Uma, was a hard and fast runner. Spending a practice session, not to mention a whole race under her soles, was... a terrifying prospect, to say the least. It was very much not hospitable for someone as tiny as you, but Tachyon's mischievous eyes told you that she thought otherwise.
You felt your blood run cold. Your eyes widened, a quiet whimper escaping as she raised it higher, the lingering scent unmistakable even from your shrunken vantage point.
Catching your reaction, she flashed a smug, toothy grin. "I think..." she trailed off, savoring your unease, before abruptly setting the racing shoe aside. You exhaled hard, limbs and muscles sagging in relief as she picked up her casual flats, brandishing them with a playful flourish. "No, I'll try these~"
She leaned in, her tone light but teasing, "You weren't scared, were you? I'd think my brave little subject would be eager to help, not trembling at the sight of my shoes." Her words coiled around you, half-mocking and half-inviting, as she positioned the flat just off the side of the table, right in front of you. "Let's see how you measure up — literally and figuratively — when compared to these~"
The experiment, it seemed, was far from over.
Instincts acted before your brain did, and your heavy legs reflexively scraped across the table as you took a fear-laden step backwards. Tachyon's smile widened.
"No, bad trainer~ Bad! The site of the next experiment is in front of you, not back there. Here, allow me~" You didn't even have a chance to react before her almighty hand fell from the sky, a rough pinch of her digits catching you between thumb and forefinger before depositing you in her flat.
And then depositing her flat on the floor.
"Now... how do you feel~?" Insignificant. You had to fight to keep the words from leaving your mouth, though you oh so badly felt they were true. From this angle, Tachyon was no longer a monument. She was a force of nature. A deity walking amongst dust.
More than you would ever be.
The muggy, damp container you'd been placed in hardly even registered in your mind. Her face and voice were the only things you could handle comprehending without losing your very sense of self to her presence.
Her eyebrow arched, studying every aspect of your body language until she gleaned precisely what she wanted without even needing you to verbalize it.
"Interesting! I've made a note of your reactions~" You nod, hanging on to every word, catching the movement of her toes. They drummed against the opening to her flat, itching to climb up and over, to reclaim their place of rest from your perceived intrusion. To teach you a lesson about taking what's theirs. "Now, I'll bid you farewell for a while~ Using your initial huffing and sniffing of my boots as a control group, I'll check to see your state in, say... 24 hours~" Her toes stalked forward, dipping into the entrance. Predators fiending for their prey. "Until then... Try not to slip past my toes~ I doubt you'll make it out of there if you get caught under the ball of my foot. Not alive, at least~"
Despite the relative wetness of the environment, your throat still felt dry as her foot surged forth. The wave of flesh continued on unhindered and uncaring of whatever lay before it, the flat's walls bending and deforming as the ped overfilled the slightly-too-small shoes.
You fell on your rump from all the shaking, feeling a subtle squish of the shoe's natural buildup of sweat from the many times she'd worn it. And in the next moment, the toes were upon you. They barreled over and smashed you, forcefully kneading you between and under them, the juicy flesh prying your mouth open with every scream you made and making you experience its flavor all over again.
You freed an arm, only for it to be dragged back with another scrunch. Your legs were thoroughly mashed into the very edge of the ball of her foot, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the pressure, but leaving them trapped like they'd been pressed into clay. But it didn't stop there. With every passing second, more and more of your body slipped under her, and you sucked in the last, slimy breaths you could muster as your chest was relentlessly smushed under her ball, not too dissimilar to when you'd been flattened against the table.
Second after second, you clawed and scraped against the soft, syrupy sole that sought to swallow you in its grasp. Pressure was heightening, and you started to feel faint as her foot settled into place...
"All ready~?" Her foot lifted like a gift from the gods, and you suched in a heaping helping of air stained with her being. Better than nothing, you figured. "I'm about to begin walking now~ But..."
Your heart rate spiked as she leaned back on her heel. Feeble hands flew to the insole to grab hold of something, anything, but you slid forward much too far for it to matter. When she put her foot back down, you'd be completely and totally under the ball of her foot.
"Ah, what a shame~ It seems I'll be needing a new guinea pig and trainer by the end of this experiment. But there's no need to worry. I'll be sure to keep what's left of your body when I'm finished~" Huh? "Maybe I can make this into a durability test..."
"T-Tachyon?! Hold on, we can talk about this!" Your voice didn't even make it past her toes. And you wouldn't make it past this next step.
The ceiling of flesh descended with a terrifying sensuality— slow, deliberate, and inescapable. Every instinct screamed at you to flee, but you knew in your heart that you had no way of escaping. When it finally made contact, it was as if the world itself had crashed down, smothering you in darkness and warmth, her presence all-consuming and absolute.
Pressure rose, and you could swear you heard your own bones creaking. Higher and higher, the weight climbed until finally... everything went black...
"Wakey wakey, trainer~!" Your eyes shot open, and you thrust your body forward with a start, becoming increasingly aware of the thick coat of sweat that covered your brow.
Tachyon was here — normal size and all. Standing innocently off to the side of your bed, leaned back like she knew the way you'd jolt forward upon waking. In her hands lay a VR headset and a pair of her clearly worn-out socks.
"It seems the simulation was a success, haha!" Her jubilation starkly contrasted the look of abject horror on your face. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You were sleeping so peacefully when we could've been experimenting! If you didn't want this to happen, you should learn to put an extra lock on your door."
Due to incidents similar to this, you'd already put on another lock. Twice. Yet somehow, she kept getting in.
"Besides, I originally only entered because you had something that belonged to me~" She raised her socks, and you looked away, guilty. "I know I told you to do my laundry, but that doesn't mean you should take some of it as a reward, you know~" She prattled on in an almost preachy manner, occasionally tapping your head as if she were lecturing a young child. "But I suppose it can't be helped. It appears my scent is simply that irresistible!"
Her ears flickered in excitement, tail swishing as she turned on her heels to leave. Was that... it?
"And trainer—" you straightened up, steering your eyes away from the sole that had revealed itself midstep. "— don't get too comfortable, now. That simulation was merely a prelude for the real thing~ We've got so many more things to test, and if you don't want me to tell the other Umas, you're going to help me with every. Single. One. Isn't that right~?"
From that look in her eyes, whether or not you truly did want to help, one thing was very clear.
You didn't really have a choice in the matter.
"Oh, and you can keep these for now~" She flicked her fingers, tossing her socks onto your paling face. "You'll be spending a lot of time with them in our next session. So get very, very acquainted."