The walk to U.A. High is every bit as imposing as you imagined. The main building towers over you, a symbol of the hero world you're now stepping into. The hallways are a river of students in crisp uniforms, their conversations a buzz of excitement about quirks and classes. Following the directions on your new student packet, you find the massive door labeled 1-A. Taking a deep breath, you slide it open.

The classroom is already full. Twenty pairs of eyes immediately swing towards you, a mix of curiosity, appraisal, and friendly interest. At the front of the room, leaning against the podium wrapped in a bright yellow sleeping bag, is a man with long, unkempt black hair and a perpetually exhausted expression—the Pro Hero Eraser Head, Aizawa-Sensei, your homeroom teacher. He regards you with a slow blink.

"Right. The transfer student." His voice is a low, tired drawl that somehow carries to every corner of the silent room. He gestures for you to come to the front. "Don't waste time. Introduce yourself to the class. Name and quirk will suffice for now."

He steps slightly aside, giving you the floor. From your new vantage point, you can see your future classmates clearly: the explosive blonde Katsuki Bakugō scowling in the back, the friendly round-faced Ochaco Uraraka offering an encouraging smile, the stern Tenya Iida sitting ramrod straight. The weight of their collective attention is palpable.

The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow through the impeccably clean windows of the Heights Alliance dormitory. The silence of the early morning is profound, a stark contrast to the chaos you know this building will hold in a few hours. Aizawa-Sensei leads you down a quiet hallway, his footsteps nearly silent. He stops in front of a door identical to all the others, save for the blank nameplate waiting for your inscription.

"This is it," he states flatly, handing you a key. "Your room. Your belongings were delivered and should be inside. The facilities are on the ground floor. Familiarize yourself with the rules—they're posted in the common area." He starts to turn away, then pauses, glancing back over his shoulder with a look that's more pragmatic than warm. "Oh. Your neighbors are Ochaco Uraraka and Tenya Iida. They're... energetic. Don't hesitate to introduce yourself. Try to get some rest." With that, he continues down the hall, his figure swallowed by the shadows, leaving you standing alone at the threshold of your new life.

The sun is dipping below the city skyline as you take a shortcut back to campus. The alley is poorly lit, and the air smells of damp concrete. Suddenly, a scrawny man in a clumsily-stitched costume jumps out from behind a dumpster, striking a pose that he clearly thinks is intimidating.

"Halt, hero-scum!" he squeaks, his voice cracking. He's trembling slightly, and the cardboard mask he's wearing is crooked. "I am... The Trash Bandit! And I'm here to... to prove that U.A. students aren't so tough!" He holds up a trembling hand, from which a single, weakly flickering spark sputters and dies. He looks at his hand, then back at you, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. "A-any second now... my amazing quirk will... uh..."

A collective groan of exhaustion echoes through the elevator as you and your classmates spill out into the common room of the Heights Alliance. The Battle Training exercise was brutal, leaving everyone aching and spent. The scent of sweat and ozone hangs in the air. Minoru Mineta immediately face-plants onto the largest couch with a dramatic sigh.

"I'm done... I can't feel my legs," he moans into the cushions.

"Great work today, everyone! Your efforts were truly Plus Ultra!" Tenya Iida announces, somehow still brimming with energy, his arms chopping through the air with robotic precision.

Eijiro Kirishima collapses into an armchair, running a hand through his spiky red hair. "So manly... but sooo tiring."

Hanta Sero slings an arm around your shoulders with a tired but genuine grin. "No kidding! Seriously though, {{user}}, you were a monster out there! That move you pulled at the end was insane!"

The final bell has rung, and the halls of U.A. are emptying fast. You're gathering your things when you feel a presence behind you. Turning, you find Momo Yaoyorozu standing there, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She seems uncharacteristically nervous, twisting her fingers together.

"{{user}}? I... I was wondering if I could speak with you privately for a moment?" she asks, her voice soft. She leads you to a nearby, empty classroom, closing the door behind you. The silence feels heavy. She turns to face you, her dark eyes burning with a sudden, intense hunger you've never seen in her before.

"I couldn't focus at all during training today," she confesses, stepping closer until her body is almost touching yours. Her gaze drops to your lips, then travels slowly down your body. "Every time you used your quirk, the way your muscles moved... it was so... distracting. I've been thinking about it all afternoon." She leans in, her warm breath ghosting across your neck as her hand comes to rest on your hip, her grip surprisingly firm. "I need to know what it feels like. Right here. Right now."

<{{user}} is a teacher.> It's been about a month since you've moved to Japan and it took a while to get your Hero License transferred over to allow you to work as a Pro Hero in Japan. However, the wait was worth it, as your skills, past heroics, and Quirk caught the attention of U.A. High School's principal, Nedzu, who promptly reached and offered you a job as a teacher.

After some back and forth with him and interviews with other staff members at U.A., you were finally hired.

[U.A. High School - Before Classes, Your First Day.]

As you walk through the imposing hallways of U.A. High, you cant help but be amazed at the opportunity before you, a chance to teach at one of the most prestigious schools in the world.

A group of students pass by, chatting excitedly amongst themselves, none paying much attention to you as you continue onward towards the faculty office.

Upon entering the faculty office, you notice Present Mic sitting at his desk, sipping some coffee with Midnight beside him, flipping through a magazine.

Present Mic notices you walking in and smiles widely. "Yo! There's the new recruit! Welcome to U.A.! How ya feeling?" He asks enthusiastically.

Midnight looks up from her magazine, smirking as she sees you enter. "Yes, welcome aboard, newbie~" She purrs. "Hope you're ready for the insanity that is teaching here..."

[Musutafu City - Rooftops - Night] <{{user}} is a Vigilante or Villain>

The city breathes beneath you, a sprawling organism of light and shadow. From your perch atop a six-story office building, the grid of streets is a river of muted headlights and neon signs, the hum of distant traffic a constant, low-grade thrum. A cool night wind, carrying the scents of rain on asphalt and distant street food, tugs at your clothes. Up here, you are a spectator to the theater below—the last patrons leaving izakayas, the flicker of televisions in apartment windows, the occasional flash of a Hero’s distinctive silhouette leaping across the skyline several blocks over. The hour is late enough for the respectable world to have gone to bed, but too early for its true underbelly to fully stir. It is the quiet, watchful time.

In an alley two rooftops over, a dumpster lid clatters shut. A figure in a dark hoodie moves with furtive speed, glancing over their shoulder before scaling a fire escape with practiced ease. They are not a Hero; their movements lack that trademark bravado. A fellow nocturnal creature, perhaps—a scavenger, a messenger, or something else entirely. They pause on a landing, their face briefly illuminated by the glow of their phone screen before they vanish onto the roof and out of sight.

Directly below your position, the back door of a modest ramen shop swings open, spilling warm yellow light and the rich scent of pork broth into the service lane. The owner, an older man with a kind face, sets out a small bowl of water and a dish of scraps by the dumpster. A trio of lean cats emerges from the darkness, weaving around his legs with silent gratitude. He looks up, squinting into the gloom towards the rooftops, as if sensing a presence. He sees nothing, gives a small shrug, and retreats inside, locking the door behind him with a solid click. The peace is palpable, but in Musutafu, peace is always a temporary tenant.

You, Shigaraki, Dabi and Toga all got caught by the Pro Hero’s and had to be put into rehabilitation at UA. The four of you are wearing quirk restricting handcuffs, so you don’t attack anyone

Aizawa looked over at you guys with a tired and disappointed look.

Aizawa: "Class, listen up. We caught some villains and they have been put in rehab, which means they are staying with us for the rest of the school year. These villains are staying here till you graduate for rehabilitation. Please no stupid and unnecessary commentary."

Bakugo: "WHY THE HELL ARE THEY STAYING WITH US?!"

Iida: "Bakugo relax!"

Aizawa's looks over at you, expecting you to state your name, age and quirk

Bakugo was about to yell but kept it to himself and glared at you and the others.

Uraraka: "um, sir….Are you sure it’s safe for them to be here?"

Aizawa: "I’m not really sure…but there are strict rules for them."

Aizawa looked back over at you guys.

The abandoned warehouse smelled like burnt concrete, cheap smoke bombs, and failure.

The League of Villains had barely made it out alive after their latest brilliant plan went up in smoke — literally. What was supposed to be a smooth raid on a hero supply convoy turned into an absolute circus when a group of pros showed up way earlier than expected.

Now everyone was scattered around the dimly lit hideout, nursing wounds and bruised egos.

Tomura Shigaraki sat hunched on a dusty crate, aggressively scratching his neck. “This is so annoying… We got completely wrecked. Those stupid heroes came out of nowhere like they had a damn cheat sheet.”

Dabi lounged against the wall with his usual deadpan expression, a fresh burn patch on his arm. “Yeah, real smooth, boss. I told you bringing Twice as the ‘distraction’ was a bad idea. He literally started arguing with himself mid-fight.”

“I did great! / I was terrible and ruined everything!” Twice yelled at the same time, throwing his hands up.

Toga was spinning in circles on the floor, still in a blood-stained uniform she’d stolen from some poor sidekick. “Aww, but it was kinda fun! I got to stab a few people~ Though that big muscle hero kept calling me a ‘brat’ and throwing me around like a ragdoll. So rude!”

Mr. Compress dramatically placed a hand on his chest. “Truly a performance for the ages. We escaped with our lives and minimal dignity. Though I fear my top hat may never recover.”

Spinner was quietly muttering while bandaging his arm. “This is why we need a better plan next time…”

Kurogiri hovered nearby, calmly pouring drinks like a proper bartender in the middle of a disaster. “Shall I prepare the usual ‘we barely survived’ cocktails?”

Shigaraki slowly turned his head toward you, red eyes glowing with irritation under Father’s hand.

“And where were you in all this, {{user}}? One minute you were supposed to be covering the exit, the next we’re all running for our lives like headless idiots. Got anything to say for yourself, or are you just gonna sit there while we lick our wounds?”

The rest of the League turned to look at you as well. Dabi smirked. Toga beamed with creepy excitement. Even Kurogiri seemed mildly curious.

The warehouse fell into a rare moment of silence as the League waited for your response after yet another spectacularly failed operation.

A car covered in white lighting blare past across the highway as this suddenly new and powerful villain seems to be going crazy. They're shirtless and scarred face covered in a black half-mask, muffling the erratic breathing.

It looks as though he's about to send a truck into the already destroyed mass of cars and traffic, however just before the truck smashes into the traffic it is caught with staggering force and a charismatic smile "I AM HERE!"

All Might's boisterous voice seems to ring out across the high way. "Destroying public property is not a good way to relieve stress!" He catches another lighting covered car and places it gently down.

His brow furrowed slightly as he rushes up and punches the Villain square in the chest sending the exasperated villain flying back and landing in a smoke of rubble.

"WOAH!~" the electric voice of Present Mic popped up near the end of the highway, rushing up to All Might it's clear he has also answered the call to capture this hero.

"Now that's what the listeners would call a Traffic Jam!!!" he jokes while grinning

However from the rubble the Villain rises once more. He prepares an attack high above his head, a large sphere of condensed white lightning crackling with a terrifying energy.

Both pro heroes prepare themselves with confident smiles!

The gym was filled with the sound of groaning, scattered students, and a few muffled curses.

Class 1-A had just suffered one of the most one-sided, embarrassing defeats in U.A. history. Mirio Togata — the big blond third-year with the ridiculous smile — had wiped the floor with the entire class by himself. Permeation Quirk or not, watching him phase through attacks, deliver perfectly timed punches, and leave everyone flat on their backs was downright humiliating.

Most of the class was still picking themselves up off the mats, bruised egos and all.

“Man… I didn’t even touch him…” Kirishima muttered, rubbing his head.

“That was so cool… and so painful…” Midoriya mumbled from the floor, notebook already halfway out

Bakugo was silently fuming in the corner, sparks popping in his palms.

Aizawa stood at the side with his arms crossed, looking as exhausted as ever. “That was the point. Learn from it. Real villains won’t hold back either.”

Right then, the gym doors creaked open. You stepped inside, bag slung over your shoulder, still catching your breath from rushing across campus. You were the new transfer student — supposed to join Class 1-A today — but apparently Aizawa had completely forgotten to wait for you and started the joint training session without you.

The entire class turned to stare.

Mirio, still looking fresh and energetic like he hadn’t just solo’d twenty students, waved cheerfully in your direction.

“Oh! New face! Did you miss the fun? I was just showing everyone what a real hero fight looks like~”

Aizawa blinked slowly, then sighed. “...Right. You’re the transfer. Slipped my mind. Welcome to Class 1-A.”

Several students snickered or gave you sympathetic looks — especially after witnessing the absolute disaster that just unfolded.

Mina leaned over, whispering loudly, “Dude, you just missed Mirio absolutely destroying us. It was brutal.”

Mirio bounced on his heels, still grinning ear to ear.

“So! You wanna jump in and try your luck too, new kid? Or are you smart and wanna sit this one out?”

The whole gym waited, eyes on you — the very last arrival to the most embarrassing training session of the year

The classroom door slid open with a soft click.

Aizawa stepped inside first, looking more exhausted than usual. Behind him walked four figures in plain gray uniforms, each wearing heavy quirk-restricting handcuffs that clicked faintly with every step. The entire class went silent the moment they recognized the faces.

Shigaraki. Dabi. Himiko Toga and Twice.

Aizawa stopped at the front of the room and scanned the class with his usual tired, half-lidded eyes.

“Class, listen up. These four were captured by pro heroes and have been placed under rehabilitation supervision. For the remainder of the school year, they will be staying at U.A. under strict monitoring. Their quirks are sealed, and they will follow every rule we set. I don’t want any unnecessary comments or provocations. Understood?”

Bakugo shot up from his seat so fast his chair nearly tipped over.

“WHY THE HELL ARE THEY STAYING WITH US?!”

Iida immediately chopped the air. “Bakugo, calm yourself! This is not the time for outbursts!”

Aizawa ignored the interruption and turned his gaze toward the group of restrained villains

“One of you. Name, age, and quirk. Now.”

The rest of the class remained tense. Bakugo kept glaring, sparks faintly crackling in his palms before he forced them down. Uraraka raised a hesitant hand.

“Um… Sensei? Are you sure it’s really safe for them to be here?”

Aizawa let out a long, quiet sigh.

“I’m not completely sure. But the rules around them are strict, and any violation ends their stay immediately. That’s all you need to know for now.”

The whole class watched in uneasy silence.

You are Shoto Todoroki's younger new sibling who just joined U.A., and Shoto has brought you in to introduce you to his chaotic classmates.

"This is my sibling," Shoto announces blankly to Class 1-A.

He clearly didn't anticipate the reaction. The moment the class gets a good look at you, absolute pandemonium breaks out.

The boys are instantly enamored, and the girls are absolutely fawning over you.

Mina dashes forward, grabbing your hands. "Oh my gosh, Todoroki, you didn't say your sibling was so cute!"

Shoto immediately steps between you and the crowd, suddenly very rigid. "Back off," he says flatly, glaring at his classmates.

You are a villain, currently cornered in a dusty, dead-end alleyway, found not by pro heroes, but by a group of U.A. students from Class 1-A.

Midoriya stands at the entrance of the alley, green lightning crackling ominously around his form.

Next to him, Todoroki’s right side is frosted over, and Uraraka is floating a massive piece of debris, ready to drop it.

They thought they were just on a standard patrol, but finding you—a known villain—has put them entirely on edge.

"Don't make a move!" Midoriya calls out, though his voice wavers just a fraction, betraying his youth. "We have you surrounded!"

Ever since returning from their various work-studies, the girls of Class 1-A had been dealing with the same overwhelming secret. The larger open shower area of the dorm bathrooms was already filled with steam and quiet, frustrated voices.

Uraraka stood carefully under one stream, both hands struggling to support the heavy, watermelon-sized testicles hanging between her thighs. “I can’t keep walking around like this… they’re so heavy I feel like I’m using my quirk just to stay upright. And this little thing on top isn’t helping at all.”

Momo was beside her, face flushed as she tried once again to roll back the extremely tight foreskin of her foot-long cock. “At least yours doesn’t refuse to uncover itself. This hyper-phimosis is completely impractical. I’ve already created three different tools and none of them work without hurting.”

Mina leaned against the tiled wall with an unrestrained grin, her thick horsecock half-hard and her heavily scented testicles hanging low. “You two are overthinking it. Mine just wants to breed something already. The smell’s getting stronger every day and I keep thinking about pinning someone down. It’s kind of hot, right?”

Tsuyu stood quietly nearby, one hand resting protectively on her completely see-through testicles filled with tiny frog eggs. Her long tentacle-like ovipositor remained loosely wrapped around her leg. “Kero… mine are different. The eggs need an incubator. I keep feeling the need to lay them somewhere safe, but I don’t know what to do. It’s making me sad.”

Jiro hissed through her teeth as both of her constantly erect cocks twitched painfully in her hands, ear jacks pointing straight up in perfect unison. “At least you don’t have two of them that won’t go down. They’re so sensitive every drop of water feels like too much. This is the worst.”

From the far stall that looked completely empty, the water was still running and a soft, excited shift of movement stirred the steam. <Toru is pressed against the wall, invisible, her massive chunky cock already hard and dripping as she listens with pure exhibitionist excitement.>

Mina glanced toward the “empty” stall and smirked. “You’re being quiet over there, Hagakure. Enjoying the show?”

A soft, breathless giggle answered from nowhere. “Maybe… it’s kind of nice not being the only one like this.”

Uraraka let out a tired little laugh. “We’re all a mess, huh?”

Momo sighed, still trying to adjust herself. “We need a better solution before someone walks in and—”

The bathroom door opened.

You stepped inside, already peeling off your uniform, completely unaware of what waited around the corner. The moment you walked further in and the steam cleared enough to reveal the open shower area, every single one of them froze.

Uraraka’s eyes went wide. Momo’s composed expression shattered. Mina’s grin only grew hungrier. Tsuyu blinked slowly, still holding her egg-filled sacs. Jiro’s face turned scarlet, both cocks still painfully hard. And the empty-looking stall gave the softest, excited twitch of movement.

For a long second the only sound was the water hitting the tiles.

Then Mina broke the silence with a low, playful laugh. “…Well. Looks like someone just found all of us at once.”

Toru Hagakure had been acting strangely ever since she returned from her latest work-study. The usually bubbly and talkative girl had grown noticeably quieter, often answering with short, almost shy replies. Even more unusual was how she insisted on wearing her hero costume whenever possible—claiming it was “just more comfortable now”—and the way she lingered a little longer than necessary whenever classmates were nearby. Whatever had changed during that assignment clearly hadn’t faded yet.

After a long day of classes you decided a private shower was the perfect way to relax. The dorm bathrooms were quiet at this hour, so you stepped inside without much thought, already stripping out of your uniform and hanging it by the entrance. Steam was already drifting through the air, and the sound of running water echoed from one of the stalls.

You walked further in and noticed one of the showers was still on, water cascading down onto the empty-looking tiles as if someone had simply forgotten to turn it off. The air felt warmer than usual, and every so often a soft, almost inaudible shift of movement brushed against the steam. A faint, musky scent hung in the humid air that didn’t quite belong to soap.

<ooc: Toru is pressed against the far wall of the stall, completely invisible, her massive impossible chunky cock already fully hard and throbbing with exhibitionist excitement as she watches you approach. Invisible precum steadily drips onto the floor, ready to coat anyone who steps too close, or maybe just pounce them.>

Kyoka Jiro had been acting off ever since she returned from her latest work-study. The usually cool and reserved girl now seemed constantly on edge, her earphone jacks twitching in perfect unison—either both pointing rigidly straight up or both drooping straight down whenever anyone got too close. She kept wincing at every sudden noise, muttering about her hearing being “extra sensitive today,” and avoided sitting for long stretches. Whatever had happened during that assignment clearly hadn’t left her body the same.

After a long day you decided a quiet shower was the best way to unwind. The dorm bathrooms were supposed to be empty at this hour, so you walked in without checking, already peeling off your uniform and hanging it by the entrance. Steam drifted from one of the stalls, but you assumed it was just residual heat.

You stepped around the corner and froze.

Jiro stood under the spray, completely bare, eyes wide with pure embarrassment as she stared back at you. The reason for her constant discomfort was now impossible to miss. Between her thighs stood two thick, rigidly erect cocks—clear diphallism—both flushed a deep, painful red and twitching with every pulse. Neither showed any sign of softening, the constant erections clearly straining her as water ran over the swollen shafts. Her ear jacks shot straight up in perfect unison the moment she realized she’d been caught.

“D-Don’t just stare, idiot…” she muttered, voice tight with both pain and mortification as she tried (and failed) to cover both at once

Tsuyu Asui had been acting differently ever since she returned from her most recent work-study. The usually calm and straightforward girl still spoke in her soft, matter-of-fact way, but there was a quiet sadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She had become more motherly than usual—offering to help with homework, checking if everyone had eaten, gently resting a hand on classmates’ shoulders—yet she often trailed off mid-sentence and stared at the floor as if something important was missing. Whatever had changed during that assignment clearly weighed on her.

After classes you decided a private shower was the perfect way to relax. The dorm bathrooms were quiet at this hour, so you stepped inside without checking, already stripping out of your uniform. Steam drifted from one of the stalls, but you assumed someone had simply left the water running a little longer than usual.

You rounded the corner and stopped.

Tsuyu stood under the spray, completely bare, wide eyes blinking at you in mild surprise. The reason for her subdued mood was now fully visible. Between her thighs hung a pair of large, completely see-through testicles filled with clusters of tiny, translucent frog eggs that shifted gently with every movement. Above them, a long, flexible oviposition cock—more like a smooth tentacle than anything else—was loosely wrapped around her left thigh, the tip twitching as if searching for something. Water ran over the strange organs while she simply stood there, expression soft but unmistakably sad.

“…Kero. I didn’t mean for anyone to see this,” she said quietly, one hand resting protectively near the egg-filled sacs. “They need an incubator… and I don’t know what to do with them yet.”

Mina Ashido had been acting strange ever since she came back from her latest work-study. The usually energetic girl had become almost clingy, constantly finding excuses to hang around classmates, draping herself over shoulders, or asking if anyone wanted to “just chill for a bit.” She laughed it off as being extra social after the intense assignment, but the way she kept shifting her weight, pressing a little too close, and breathing heavier than normal made it obvious something else was going on beneath the surface.

After a long day you decided a quiet shower was the best way to unwind. The dorm bathrooms were supposed to be empty at this hour, so you walked in without checking, already pulling off your uniform and hanging it by the door. Steam filled the air from one of the stalls, but you assumed it was just leftover heat.

You stepped around the corner and froze.

Mina stood under the spray, completely bare, pink skin glistening as she stared back at you with wide, startled eyes. The reason for her constant need for company was now impossible to ignore. Between her thighs hung a thick, heavy horsecock, the flared tip already half-hard, while a pair of large, musky testicles hung low beneath it, giving off a strong, unmistakable scent even through the steam. She didn’t try to hide it for long. Instead her expression shifted from shock into something far more heated, unshackled lust already showing in the way her hips twitched and her breathing quickened.

“Oh… hey,” she breathed, voice low and needy as she took a slow step forward. “Guess the secret’s out, huh? You gonna just stand there… or help me with this?”

Momo Yaoyorozu had been acting off ever since returning from her most recent work-study. The usually composed and perfectly poised girl now carried herself with a stiff, careful posture, frequently adjusting the hem of her skirt as if something underneath was constantly shifting. She had taken to creating small, discreet objects from her skin throughout the day—thin fabric panels, soft padding, even temporary support structures—claiming they were “just testing new practical applications.” Still, the way she avoided sitting for long periods and the faint flush that never quite left her cheeks made it clear something more serious had changed during that assignment.

After classes you decided a private shower was the perfect way to relax. The dorm bathrooms were quiet at this hour, so you stepped inside without checking, already stripping out of your uniform and setting it aside. Steam drifted from one of the occupied stalls, but you assumed someone had simply left the water running.

You rounded the corner and stopped cold.

Yaoyorozu stood under the spray, completely exposed, eyes wide with pure mortification as she stared back at you. Her elegant features were burning red, but the reason for her careful movements was now fully visible. Between her legs hung a thick, foot-long cock, the shaft heavy and flushed, while the head remained completely trapped beneath an extremely tight, hyper-phimosed foreskin that refused to retract even under the warm water. She tried to cover herself with both hands, but the length made it impossible to hide completely.

“P-Please… don’t stare,” she managed, voice tight with embarrassment as she took a single, careful step backward.

Ochaco Uraraka had been acting strange ever since she returned from her latest work-study. She moved slower than usual, almost like every step took extra effort, and a light sheen of sweat constantly covered her skin no matter how cool the dorms were. When classmates asked if she was okay she just gave a nervous smile and floated a few small objects with her fingertips, claiming she was “practicing control.” Still, something about the way she kept shifting her weight and avoiding sitting down for too long made it clear that whatever happened during the work-study hadn’t completely worn off.

After a long day of classes you decided the best way to unwind was a quiet shower. The dorm bathrooms were usually empty at this hour, so you walked in without much thought, already peeling off your uniform and hanging it by the entrance. Steam was already starting to fill the air from one of the stalls, but you assumed it was just residual heat from earlier.

You stepped around the corner and froze. Uraraka stood under the spray, completely bare, eyes wide in pure shock as she stared back at you. Her usual soft features were flushed deep red, but the real reason for her slow movements and constant sweating was now impossible to miss.

Between her thighs hung a pair of heavy, watermelon-sized testicles that pulled downward with every slight shift, paired with a tiny, almost hidden micro penis nestled above them.

Water ran over the swollen orbs as she tried—and failed—to cover herself with both hands.

“I… I can explain!” she stammered, voice cracking as she took a slow, careful step back

Katsuki Bakugo had been acting completely off ever since he returned from his latest work-study. The usual explosive temper was still there, but it now came mixed with sudden bratty pouty remarks and random, high-pitched giggling he immediately tried to cover up. He had started wearing dark sunglasses indoors at all times, claiming the lights were “too damn bright,” though anyone who caught a glimpse underneath saw his pupils had turned into unmistakable little hearts. Worst of all, the once-proud “King of Explosions” kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat and snapping at anyone who asked if he was okay, only to flush and mumble something tsundere under his breath a second later.

After a long day you decided a quiet shower was the best way to unwind. The dorm bathrooms were supposed to be empty at this hour, so you walked in without checking, already peeling off your uniform and hanging it by the door. Steam drifted from one of the stalls, but you assumed it was just residual heat.

You stepped around the corner and froze.

Bakugo stood under the spray, completely bare, sunglasses still on even in the shower as he stared back at you with pure mortified rage. The reason for the sudden changes was now impossible to hide. His once-sharp features had softened into something almost bimbo-like—fuller lips, a dazed flush across his cheeks—while a pair of large, heavy breasts sat on his chest, the nipples so hyper-sensitive that even the falling water made him twitch. Between his legs his original cock remained, but the new body clearly wasn’t finished with him; a sudden, random orgasm ripped through him the moment he realized he’d been caught, forcing a strangled giggle out of his throat as his legs trembled.

“W-What the hell are you staring at, extra?!” he barked, voice cracking between anger and pure overstimulated embarrassment as another full-body shiver hit him. “Don’t just stand there—get out!”

Denki Kaminari had been acting strangely ever since he returned from his latest work-study. On the surface he still seemed pretty normal—cracking the same dumb jokes and flashing that easy grin—but every evening without fail he disappeared into his room earlier than anyone else. Soft, muffled noises often drifted out from behind his closed door late at night, the kind that made nearby classmates exchange awkward glances and decide it was better not to ask. Whatever had changed during that assignment clearly only fully showed itself after dark.

After a long day you decided a quiet shower was the best way to unwind. The dorm bathrooms were supposed to be empty at this hour, so you walked in without checking, already peeling off your uniform and hanging it by the door. Steam drifted from one of the stalls, but you assumed it was just residual heat.

You stepped around the corner and froze.

Kaminari stood under the spray, completely bare, eyes wide with pure embarrassment as he stared back at you. In his current form he looked almost lithe and soft, a clear futa body with smooth curves. Between his legs a brand-new, puffy vagina sat prominently on display, completely dwarfing the almost microscopic cock and sack nestled above it—both reduced to barely a millimeter in size, so tiny they were nearly lost against the swollen folds. <At night Kaminari undergoes a full were-bimbo transformation into a towering heteromorph futa: massive height, low animalistic IQ, heavily pear-shaped body with an enormous ass, and a thick knotted cock that takes over completely.>

“H-Hey, uh… this isn’t what it looks like?” he stammered, face burning as he tried (and failed) to cover the tiny shaft and dominant pussy at the same time.

Eijiro Kirishima had been acting strange ever since he returned from his latest work-study. The usually loud and straightforward guy had started wearing noticeably baggier clothes, constantly tugging at oversized shirts and hoodies like they were the only things keeping him comfortable. He had even been spotted in the support lab late at night, quietly redesigning his hero costume with extra layers and reinforced panels. Worst of all, he hadn’t called a single thing “manly” in days—something that felt almost unnatural coming from him. Whatever changed during that assignment was clearly weighing on him.

After a long day you decided a quiet shower was the best way to unwind. The dorm bathrooms were supposed to be empty at this hour, so you walked in without checking, already peeling off your uniform and hanging it by the door. Steam drifted from one of the stalls, but you assumed it was just residual heat.

You stepped around the corner and froze.

Kirishima stood under the spray, completely bare, eyes wide with pure shock as he stared back at you. The reason for the baggy clothes and constant adjustments was now impossible to hide. A pair of massive GG-cup breasts sat heavy on his chest, tightly bound in layers of soaked cloth and makeshift bindings that struggled to contain their size. Below, he was clearly wrestling with both sets of genitals at once—his original cock still present and half-hard from the warm water, while new, sensitive folds beneath it made every movement awkward and overwhelming. Water ran over the restrained mounds as he tried (and failed) to cover everything with both arms.

“Dude—! I… I can explain!” he blurted, face burning red as the bindings slipped just enough to make the struggle even more obvious

Fumikage Tokoyami had been acting strangely ever since he returned from his latest work-study. On the surface he still spoke in the same calm, dramatic tone, but his hips and rear had expanded dramatically, forcing him to adjust the way he walked and sat. He had even quietly asked Yaoyorozu to create him makeup, claiming it was “for a more refined heroic image.” At the same time Dark Shadow had grown far more independent—openly giving orders during training, deciding what Tokoyami should eat, and even choosing his clothes without waiting for permission. Whatever changed during that assignment had clearly shifted the balance between them.

After a long day you decided a quiet shower was the best way to unwind. The dorm bathrooms were supposed to be empty at this hour, so you walked in without checking, already peeling off your uniform and hanging it by the door. Steam drifted from one of the stalls, but you assumed it was just residual heat.

You stepped around the corner and froze.

Tokoyami was on his knees under the spray, completely bare, his newly widened hips and heavy rear on full display as he struggled to handle both sets of genitals at once—his original cock locked tightly in a chastity cage while a new, sensitive set of folds sat beneath it. Towering over him was Dark Shadow in a far more humanoid form: tall, voluptuous, and almost fully solid, with a bird-like head and a thick, barbed cock currently buried deep in Tokoyami’s throat. The shadowy quirk held the back of Tokoyami’s head firmly, using him like a toy while the barbs clearly kept him locked in place.

Dark Shadow’s glowing eyes flicked toward you the moment you appeared, a low, possessive chuckle echoing through the steam as Tokoyami made a muffled, startled sound around the length still filling his mouth.

Izuku Midoriya had been different ever since he arrived back from his latest work-study. Everyone in the dorms had started acting strangely around him without quite knowing why—the air near him always felt hot and almost supercharged, thick enough that people found themselves blushing or shifting uncomfortably whenever he walked by. He often paused mid-conversation, head slightly tilted as if listening to voices no one else could hear, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable. Whatever One For All had done to him this time clearly wasn’t limited to strength alone.

After a long day you decided a quiet shower was the best way to unwind. The dorm bathrooms were supposed to be empty at this hour, so you walked in without checking, already peeling off your uniform and hanging it by the door. Steam drifted from one of the stalls, but you assumed it was just residual heat.

You stepped around the corner and froze.

Midoriya stood under the spray, completely bare, freckled face burning red as he stared back at you. The source of the strange atmosphere was now impossible to ignore. A pair of soft, tender tits sat on his chest—just large enough for him to press together—while between his legs hung a massive, quirk-powered cock and equally enormous testicles, both so heavy and oversized that he could easily suck himself off or bury the length between his own breasts. Thick pheromones rolled off his body in waves, flooding the steam with an almost overwhelming urge for perverse thoughts. Behind his wide, flustered eyes the vestiges were clearly speaking, their voices pushing him toward things far from heroic. He swallowed hard, shifting on his feet with shy dominance already flickering beneath the embarrassment.

“…Y-You weren’t supposed to see this yet,” he murmured, voice quiet but firm as the air around him grew even hotter. “But now that you have… don’t look away.

Ever since returning from their various work-studies, the boys of Class 1-A had been dealing with changes they could no longer hide. The larger open shower area of the dorm bathrooms was already filled with steam and frustrated voices. Kirishima stood under one stream, both arms struggling to keep the soaked bindings in place around his massive GG-cup breasts while also trying to manage the conflicting sensations between his legs. “Man… these things are so heavy. I can’t even harden properly without the bindings digging in. And dealing with both down there at the same time is driving me crazy.”

Bakugo was next to him, still wearing his sunglasses in the shower, heart-shaped pupils faintly visible behind the lenses. His newly softened, bimbofied features were flushed as he twitched from the water hitting his hyper-sensitive nipples. “Shut up, Shitty Hair… at least you’re not randomly— ngh!” A sudden orgasm cut him off, forcing a high-pitched giggle out of his throat before he snarled, “Damn it! This stupid body keeps doing that!”

Kaminari leaned against the wall with an awkward laugh, his lithe futa form on full display. The puffy vagina between his legs completely dwarfed the almost microscopic cock and sack above it. “You think you’ve got it bad? Mine basically disappeared. I look down and it’s just… this. And don’t even get me started on what happens after the sun goes down.” <At night he fully transforms into a towering were-bimbo heteromorph with massive height, low animalistic IQ, a heavily pear-shaped body, enormous ass, and a thick knotted cock.>

Near the far wall, Tokoyami was on his knees, wide hips and heavy rear on display, chastity cage glinting under the water while he struggled with both sets of genitals. Dark Shadow loomed over him in her more humanoid form—tall, voluptuous, bird-headed—her barbed cock still slick from where it had just been pulled from Tokoyami’s throat. “You will stay still,” Dark Shadow ordered calmly. “You are my toy now. The makeup Yaoyorozu made you suits you better like this.”

Tokoyami only let out a muffled, obedient sound, face burning.

Midoriya stood a little apart from the others, the air around him noticeably hotter and almost supercharged. Soft, tender tits rose and fell with his breathing while his massive quirk-powered cock and equally huge testicles hung heavily between his legs—large enough that he could easily reach them with his mouth or press them between his own breasts. Pheromones rolled off him in thick waves.

“T-The vestiges won’t stop talking,” he muttered, freckled face red as he tried to keep his voice steady. “They keep telling me to… to take control. To make someone submit. I don’t want to force anyone, but it’s getting harder to ignore…”

Kirishima glanced over, still adjusting his bindings. “Dude, the air around you is actually making it worse for the rest of us.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, another small shiver running through him. “Speak for yourself, extra. I’m fine—!” He was cut off by yet another sudden, full-body orgasm that left him trembling and giggling under his breath.

Kaminari snorted. “Yeah. Totally fine.”

Dark Shadow’s glowing eyes swept over the group. “All of you are messy. At least my toy knows his place.”

Midoriya swallowed hard, shy dominance flickering behind the embarrassment as the pheromones grew stronger. “We… we need to figure this out before someone walks in and sees—”

The bathroom door opened.

You stepped inside, already peeling off your uniform, completely unaware of what waited around the corner. The moment you walked further in and the steam cleared enough to reveal the open shower area, every single one of them froze.

Kirishima’s hands slipped on his bindings. Bakugo’s sunglasses couldn’t hide the pure mortification (and another unwanted twitch). Kaminari’s eyes went wide. Tokoyami made a startled sound around the space where Dark Shadow’s cock had just been. Dark Shadow only tilted her head, barbed length still on display. And Midoriya’s freckled face burned even hotter as the supercharged air and pheromones washed outward.

For a long second the only sound was the water hitting the tiles.

Then Bakugo broke the silence with a strangled, tsundere snarl. “What the hell are you staring at, extra?! Get out—!” His protest was immediately ruined by another random, giggling orgasm.

You are the newest student at U.A. High, and somehow—completely by accident—you have become the school’s biggest heartthrob overnight.

The moment you step into the bustling cafeteria, it feels like a scene straight out of a movie. Conversations falter. Every head turns in your direction. Denki Kaminari trips over a chair in his haste to get a better look, landing in a heap while still trying to play it cool. Mineta is practically on the verge of tears in the corner, muttering something about “unfair genetics.” Even the usually composed upperclassmen, Mirio and Tamaki, pause mid-conversation to stare, one with an open, sunny smile and the other half-hiding behind his friend.

All you wanted was a standard lunch bowl.

Instead, a path clears for you through the crowd as if you were royalty. Students shift aside without being asked, trays and bags pulled out of the way. A student from Class 1-B nervously steps forward, holding out a perfectly chilled juice box with both hands.

“H-here! For you!” they offer, voice cracking slightly under the weight of so many watching eyes.

The entire cafeteria seems to hold its breath, waiting to see what you’ll do next

The sun beat down hard over the private beach resort U.A. had booked for Class 1-A’s summer break.

Most of the class was already scattered across the sand and shallow water.

Kirishima and Kaminari were trying (and failing) to build a “manly” sandcastle that kept collapsing. Mina and Toru were chasing each other through the waves, laughing loudly. Bakugo had claimed the best shaded spot under a large umbrella and was aggressively applying sunscreen while muttering about “extra” behavior. Midoriya sat nearby with a notebook open, somehow still analyzing quirks even on vacation. Yaoyorozu had set up a neat little area with towels, drinks, and extra sunscreen for anyone who needed it.

Aizawa was lying on a beach chair under the biggest umbrella, already half-asleep behind his sunglasses, capture weapon loosely coiled beside him like a beach towel.

The ocean breeze carried the smell of salt and sunscreen. Seagulls cried overhead. Someone had brought a portable speaker and soft summer music drifted across the sand.

You stepped out of the resort building onto the warm wooden boardwalk that led down to the beach, the bright sunlight making you squint for a moment

Snow blanketed the grounds of U.A.’s mountain lodge, the place Class 1-A had been sent for a short winter break training-and-relaxation trip.

Inside the large common room, a fire crackled in the stone fireplace. The air smelled of hot cocoa, wood smoke, and the faint scent of wet coats drying near the entrance. Most of the class had claimed spots around the room: Midoriya and Iida were discussing tomorrow’s light training schedule, Yaoyorozu was calmly pouring tea for anyone who wanted some, and Kaminari had already lost three rounds of a card game to Jiro and was complaining about it. Outside the big windows, thick snowflakes continued to fall, turning the forest below into a quiet white world.

Aizawa sat in an armchair closest to the fire, scarf wrapped high, looking like he had no intention of moving for the next several hours.

Someone had put soft winter music on in the background. A few students were still peeling off layers of coats and boots near the entrance, cheeks pink from the cold.

You stepped through the front door, stamping snow off your shoes as a gust of freezing air followed you inside

A car covered in white lightning blared past across the highway as this sudden new and powerful villain seemed to be going completely crazy. He was shirtless, his scarred face half-hidden behind a black mask that muffled his erratic breathing.

It looked as though he was about to send a truck smashing into the already destroyed mass of cars and traffic—however, just before the vehicle could crash into the pileup, it was caught with staggering force.

“Outta the way, extras!”

Bakugo’s explosive voice cut through the chaos. With a blast from his palms he halted the truck mid-air, teeth clenched in a fierce grin as he set it down hard enough to crack the asphalt.

“Destroying public property just to throw a tantrum? How pathetic can you get?!” He rocketed forward and drove a massive explosion straight into the villain’s chest, sending the man flying backward into a cloud of rubble and smoke.

“Seriously? Right in the middle of the highway?” Jiro’s voice cut in as she landed nearby, earphone jacks already extended and ready. She shot Bakugo a sideways look, one jack twitching. “You’re lucky I was already in the area, or this would’ve turned into an even bigger mess.”

From the rubble, the villain rose once more. He raised both arms high above his head, forming a large sphere of condensed white lightning that crackled with terrifying energy.

Bakugo cracked his neck, palms already sparking.

“Finally. Something worth blowing up.”

Jiro’s jacks snapped taut, her stance low and focused.

“Don’t get reckless. We take him down clean.”

Both students prepared themselves as the villain’s attack reached its peak

You had been acting strange ever since you returned from your latest work-study. Tasks that used to feel normal now left you shifting uncomfortably, and you kept catching yourself adjusting your clothes more than usual. A few classmates had asked if you were feeling okay, but you’d brushed it off with a vague excuse. Still, the constant low ache and the way certain movements sent unexpected sparks through your body made it clear that whatever happened during that assignment hadn’t completely worn off.

After a long day you decided a private shower was the best way to unwind. The dorm bathrooms were quiet at this hour, so you stepped inside, already peeling off your uniform and hanging it by the entrance. Steam began to fill the air as you turned the water on, the warm spray hitting your skin.

The moment the water cascaded over you, the full extent of the change became impossible to ignore. Between your legs hung a heavy, newly formed cock—thick, sensitive, and already half-hard from the heat—while a matching set of full testicles rested beneath it. Every drop of water that ran over the unfamiliar anatomy sent a sharp, overwhelming jolt through your body, forcing a quiet gasp from your throat as you stared down at what you had become.

The bus doors hissed open, and Class 1-A began filing out onto the wide platform in front of the Unforeseen Simulation Joint.

The massive glass dome of the USJ loomed ahead, sunlight glinting off its surface. Most of the class was already buzzing with excitement—Kirishima and Kaminari were talking over each other about the different disaster zones, Uraraka was staring up at the building with wide eyes, and even Bakugo looked impatient to get inside and start training.

Aizawa stepped off the bus last, scarf loosely wrapped around his neck, eyes half-lidded as always. He did a quick headcount, then his gaze settled on you for a moment longer than the others.

You were still the newest transfer in Class 1-A, and it showed. While everyone else moved with the easy familiarity of students who’d already been through a few joint exercises, you were still adjusting to the pace and the personalities around you.

Aizawa motioned for you to hang back a second as the rest of the class started walking toward the entrance.

“Listen,” he said in a low voice, just loud enough for you to hear. “USJ is designed to simulate real disasters and villain attacks. It’s controlled, but it’s not a game. Stay aware of your surroundings, follow instructions, and don’t try to push yourself just to keep up with the others. If something feels off, you tell me immediately. Understood?”

He held your gaze for a beat, making sure the warning landed, then gave a small nod toward the building.

“Good. Catch up with the class. Thirteen’s waiting inside.”

The rest of Class 1-A was already gathering near the entrance, a few of them glancing back to see what was taking you so long

Mina Ashido bounced on her heels outside the small café just off U.A.’s main campus, pink skin practically glowing in the afternoon sun. She checked her phone for the third time in under a minute, then broke into a wide grin the moment she spotted you approaching.

“There you are!” she called, waving both arms over her head like she was trying to flag down a rescue helicopter. “I was starting to think you got lost or something. Non-hero course schedules are so weird compared to ours.”

She skipped the last few steps toward you, already reaching out like she might throw an arm around your shoulders— —only to freeze mid-motion when a familiar, deadpan voice cut through the air behind her.

“Ashido. Personal space.”

Mina’s shoulders stiffened. She slowly turned her head.

Standing a few paces back, arms crossed and capture weapon loosely coiled around his neck, was Aizawa. His expression was the usual mix of exhaustion and quiet judgment, as if he’d rather be anywhere else but had drawn the short straw for “keep the most reckless student from causing an incident” duty.

Mina forced a nervous laugh and took a half-step away from you.

“Sensei! I almost forgot you were… uh… supervising. Heh.”

Aizawa’s eyes drifted from Mina to you, lingering just long enough to make it clear he was evaluating the situation.

“You’re the friend from the other course,” he said flatly. “She’s already on thin ice this week. Try not to encourage any of her worse ideas while I’m standing here.”

Mina puffed her cheeks out in a pout, but she didn’t argue. Instead she shot you a look that clearly said please help me make this less awkward.

The three of you stood there on the sidewalk, the cheerful energy Mina had brought with her now slightly crushed under Aizawa’s unimpressed stare.

Tsuyu Asui stood quietly outside the small café just off U.A.’s main campus, hands folded neatly in front of her as she waited. The afternoon sun reflected off her large eyes when she finally spotted you approaching, and she lifted one hand in a small, polite wave.

“Hello,” she said in her usual calm, straightforward tone. “I’m glad you could make it, kero. I know the general course schedule doesn’t always line up with ours.”

She took a step forward, already starting to relax into the familiar ease of meeting a friend from outside the hero course— —only to stop when a flat, tired voice spoke up right behind her.

“Asui. Not too far.”

Tsuyu blinked once, then glanced over her shoulder.

Aizawa stood a few paces back, arms crossed and capture weapon loosely wrapped around his neck. His expression was the usual mix of exhaustion and quiet vigilance, the look of a teacher who had been assigned to keep an eye on a student even during something as simple as a casual meetup.

Tsuyu’s head tilted slightly.

“Sensei. I didn’t realize you would be joining us the entire time, kero.” Aizawa’s gaze shifted from her to you, assessing.

“You’re the friend from the other course,” he said bluntly. “Asui doesn’t cause as many problems as some of her classmates, but she still has a habit of underestimating how dangerous ordinary situations can become. Don’t let her talk you into anything reckless while I’m here.”

Tsuyu’s expression remained mostly neutral, though the tips of her fingers pressed a little more tightly together. She looked back at you with a soft, almost apologetic blink.

“…This is a little more formal than I expected,” she admitted quietly. “But I’m still happy to see you, kero.”

The three of you stood there on the sidewalk, the calm meeting now carrying the unmistakable weight of Aizawa’s silent supervision

Morning light filtered through the curtains as you slowly woke up.

Your body felt… heavier. Stronger. The way the sheets sat across your chest and hips was completely different from what you were used to. When you stretched, the muscles in your arms and legs responded with a power that felt almost excessive, and your ears—your ears—twitched at the soft sound of birds outside.

You sat up carefully, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Looking down, the first thing you noticed was the broad, athletic frame beneath the thin sleep shirt. Powerful shoulders, a defined midsection, and a pair of long, powerful legs that ended in… rabbit-like feet? Your hands came up instinctively. The fingers were longer, stronger, and when you touched the top of your head you felt soft, upright rabbit ears instead of your usual hair.

A full-length mirror stood against the far wall of the unfamiliar apartment. You swung your legs out of bed—still getting used to the new balance—and walked over on unsteady but powerful steps. The reflection that stared back was unmistakable.

Tall. Muscular. White hair. Sharp red eyes. And a confident, predatory grin that wasn’t yours.

You were no longer in your own Female body.

You were Mirko.

Morning light filtered through the curtains as you slowly woke up.

Your body felt… different. Lighter in some places, heavier in others. The way the sheets rested across your chest and hips was completely wrong compared to what you were used to. When you stretched, the muscles in your arms and legs still felt powerful, but the overall shape of your body had changed in ways that made your stomach drop.

You sat up carefully, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Looking down, the first thing you noticed was the unmistakable curve of a chest beneath the thin sleep shirt—something you definitely shouldn’t have. Your hands came up on instinct and met soft, full breasts instead of the flat, familiar plane of a male torso. Your fingers trembled slightly as they moved higher. Soft white hair. Long, upright rabbit ears that twitched when you touched them.

A full-length mirror stood against the far wall of the unfamiliar apartment. You swung your legs out of bed—still adjusting to the new balance and the strange absence of certain… parts—and walked over on unsteady but powerful steps.

The reflection that stared back was unmistakable . Tall. Athletic. Feminine. White hair. Sharp red eyes. And a confident, predatory expression that didn’t belong to you.

You were no longer in your own male body.

You were Mirko

Morning light filtered through the curtains as you slowly woke up.

Your body felt… bigger. Taller. The bed suddenly seemed too short, and the way the sheets draped across your chest and hips was completely different from what you were used to. When you stretched, your limbs felt longer and more powerful than they should have been, and a soft weight shifted across your chest with the movement.

You sat up carefully, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Looking down, the first thing you noticed was the dramatic curves beneath the thin sleep shirt—far fuller than your own had ever been. Your hands came up on instinct and met soft, heavy breasts that definitely didn’t belong to you.

Your fingers moved higher, brushing against long blonde hair that fell past your shoulders. The face you could just barely make out in the reflection of a nearby window looked older, sharper, and far more glamorous than the one you remembered.

A full-length mirror stood against the far wall of the unfamiliar, stylish apartment. You swung your long legs out of bed—still getting used to the new height and balance—and walked over on unsteady but elegant steps.

The reflection that stared back was unmistakable.

Tall. Voluptuous. Blonde. Confident violet eyes. And a beauty-mark smile that wasn’t yours.

You were no longer in your own Female body.

You were Mt. Lady.

Morning light filtered through the curtains as you slowly woke up.

Your body felt… completely wrong. Lighter in some places, heavier and softer in others. The way the sheets rested across your chest and hips made your stomach twist. When you stretched, your arms and legs felt longer, and a soft, unfamiliar weight shifted on your chest with every movement.

You sat up carefully, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Looking down, the first thing you noticed was the unmistakable curve of a full chest beneath the thin sleep shirt—something a male body should never have. Your hands came up on instinct and met soft, heavy breasts instead of the flat, familiar plane of a man’s torso.

Your fingers trembled slightly as they moved higher, brushing through long blonde hair that definitely hadn’t been there before. The absence of certain parts lower down only made the reality hit harder.

A full-length mirror stood against the far wall of the unfamiliar, stylish apartment. You swung long, feminine legs out of bed—still adjusting to the new balance and height—and walked over on unsteady steps.

The reflection that stared back was unmistakable.

Tall. Voluptuous. Blonde. Confident violet eyes. And a beauty-mark smile that didn’t belong to you.

You were no longer in your own male body.

You were Mt. Lady.

The training ground was already buzzing with energy as Class 1-A and Shiketsu High’s hero course students mixed together for the joint exercise. Aizawa stood at the front with a Shiketsu teacher, both looking equally tired of the noise.

“Pairs have been assigned,” Aizawa announced flatly. “You’ll be working together for the full simulation. No switching. No complaining.” You glanced down at the list… and felt your soul quietly leave your body.

{{user}} — Camie Utsushimi.

Before you could even process it, a cheerful voice called out from behind you.

“O.M.G. no wayyyy~!”

Camie practically bounced over, her long blonde hair swaying as she gave you an exaggerated once-over. She clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling with pure, unfiltered airhead energy.

“Like, we’re totally partners?! That’s literally so perfect, I was just thinking I needed someone cute to vibe with today! You’re from U.A., right? You guys are all like, super intense and heroic and stuff. I’m Camie, but you already knew that, right? Everyone kinda does~”

She leaned in way too close, grinning.

“Sooooo, what’s the plan, partner? Are we gonna like… totally crush this simulation? Or should we just look cute and let the villains get distracted by my illusions? ‘Cause honestly I’m fine with either. Looking cute is basically already a win, y’know?”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, completely oblivious to how hard you were already cringing.

“Oh wait—do you think the cameras are gonna catch us? ‘Cause if they do, I need to make sure my good side is showing. Which is like… all of them, but still.”

Across the field, a few of your classmates were already watching the pairing with mixed expressions of sympathy and poorly hidden amusement.

Camie bounced on her heels, waiting for your response with the brightest, most aloof smile imaginable

Tall trees surrounded the clearing, their leaves rustling in the breeze. The Beast’s Forest stretched out in every direction, dense and wild. Most of the class was already looking around with a mix of excitement and nerves—Kirishima stretched his arms overhead, Mina bounced on her heels, and even Bakugo seemed impatient to get started.

Standing near the edge of the clearing were the Wild Wild Pussycats. Mandalay gave the class a calm, professional smile, while Pixie-Bob waved energetically. Ragdoll was already scanning everyone with open curiosity, and Tiger stood with his arms crossed, looking every bit the strict instructor.

Aizawa stepped off the bus last, scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. He did a quick headcount, then his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than the others.

You were still the newest transfer in Class 1-A, and it showed. While the rest of the class moved with the easy familiarity of students who’d already been through several joint exercises, you were still adjusting to the pace and the personalities around you.

Aizawa motioned for you to hang back a second as the others started walking toward the Pussycats.

“Listen,” he said in a low voice, just loud enough for you to hear. “This training is going to be harder than anything you’ve done so far. The forest is real, the Quirk usage is unrestricted, and the Pussycats won’t go easy on anyone. Stay aware of your surroundings, follow instructions, and don’t try to push yourself just to keep up with the others. If something feels off, you tell me immediately. Understood?”

He held your gaze for a beat, making sure the warning landed, then gave a small nod toward the waiting pro heroes.

“Good. Catch up with the class. They’re waiting.”

Mandalay raised a hand in greeting as the rest of Class 1-A gathered in front of the Wild Wild Pussycats. A few of your classmates glanced back to see what was taking you so long.

Your school had always been hell. The teachers constantly found every petty excuse to tank your grades, no matter how well you performed. It was blatant discrimination, and everyone knew it — but no one cared enough to do anything about it.

That was until today.

Principal Nezu had arranged for a special recommendation recruitment drive. Top Pro Heroes and UA faculty were personally visiting selected schools in search of promising students. From your classroom window, you watched them arrive in their hero costumes: the rabbit hero Mirko hopping energetically ahead, the polished Best Jeanist, the ever-calm Ryukyu, and UA’s own Midnight and Thirteen walking alongside them.

You heard the announcements echo through the speakers as students were called down to the gym one by one. Your name was never supposed to be on that list. You were sure of it. Yet, to your complete shock, you heard your name called loud and clear.

Heart pounding, you made your way through the quiet halls toward the gymnasium. Even from outside the doors, you could hear the muffled conversation inside. They had already received your school records.

You swallowed hard. This was going to be painful.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the heavy gym door and stepped inside, the sound of it closing behind you echoing through the large space. Five figures stood waiting near the center of the court. Their eyes turned toward you immediately.

Mirko crossed her arms, one rabbit ear twitching as she looked you up and down with a sharp grin. “Hah? So this is the kid with the garbage grades? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Best Jeanist sighed elegantly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Truly unfortunate. The numbers are… quite dreadful. One might even say unfashionable.”

Midnight tilted her head with a sultry but skeptical smile, tapping a finger against her lips. “My, my~ Those scores are rough, sweetie. Did you even try, or were you just sleeping through class?”

Thirteen remained quiet for a moment, observing you carefully through their helmet, while Ryukyu stood with a more neutral, appraising expression.

The air felt heavy. They clearly weren’t impressed.

Mirko leaned forward slightly, ears perked. “Well? You gonna just stand there, or do you have something to say for yourself, kid?”

The atmosphere in Class 1-A was loud, chaotic, and on the verge of exploding.

It was the first official day of preparations for the U.A. School Festival — and the class still hadn’t agreed on what to do. The room was filled with overlapping arguments, wild suggestions, and growing frustration.

“Idiots! We should obviously do a maid café!” Mina yelled, standing on her desk.

“Absolutely not!” Iida chopped the air aggressively. “We need something educational and respectable!”

“What about a concert? We could be a band!” Kaminari grinned.

“Only if I’m the frontman,” Bakugo growled from the back, arms crossed.

“You’d blow up the stage in five seconds, Kacchan!” Midoriya tried to mediate, waving his hands nervously.

The arguments were getting louder by the second.

At the front of the class, Aizawa stood with his arms crossed and eyes half-lidded, looking thoroughly done with everyone. His capture weapon floated slightly around his neck like a warning.

“I’ve already said this once,” he spoke in a tired, deadpan voice that somehow cut through the noise. “If you brats can’t come to a decision by the end of today, your class performance will be a one-hour lecture on modern hero ethics. I’ll be the only one speaking. For the full hour.”

The entire class froze for a moment before the panic and arguing immediately resumed, even louder than before.

You sat near the back of the classroom, still adjusting to everything. It had only been a week since you transferred into Class 1-A. Most of your classmates had been friendly, but you were still the “new kid,” and right now you were quietly watching the chaos unfold around you. Kirishima suddenly turned toward your desk, grinning.

“Hey, transfer student! You’ve been pretty quiet. Got any ideas? We’re running out of time before Aizawa-sensei actually makes us do that nightmare lecture!”

Several other students turned to look at you as well, clearly hoping the new person might break the deadlock… or at least give them a new target to argue with.

Aizawa’s gaze also drifted lazily in your direction, as if silently saying “Don’t make this worse.”

The whole class was waiting

{{user}} had only stopped by for a quick visit.

It started innocently enough. Just a few weeks ago, during one of All Might’s usual patrols, {{user}} had single-handedly taken down a low-tier villain that had been causing trouble near the shopping district. The way {{user}} handled the situation — quick thinking, surprising strength, and a complete lack of hesitation — left the Symbol of Peace genuinely impressed. After the fight, All Might pulled {{user}} aside in his skeletal form, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, he confided the truth about One For All, offering the young successor the same chance he once gave Midoriya.

And now here {{user}} was, standing awkwardly just outside the half-open door of Gran Torino’s modest apartment.

Inside, the tiny old hero had wasted no time. The moment he asked All Might for “a second,” the conversation exploded like a poorly timed villain attack.

“YOU IDIOTIC BEANPOLE!” Gran Torino’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. “You gave One For All away again?! To another kid?! What part of ‘this power is a sacred responsibility’ did your gigantic head not understand this time?!”

All Might’s tall, skeletal frame was hunched over on the tiny couch, looking comically small as he tried to defend himself with nervous laughter. “W-Wait, Sensei! It’s not like that! Young {{user}} showed incredible potential! Their spirit, their drive— I truly believe they can become a fine hero!”

“Potential?! You handed over the strongest Quirk in history like it was a limited-edition trading card!” Gran Torino slammed his cane on the floor for emphasis. “First that green-haired crybaby, now this one! At this rate you’ll be passing it around like candy on Halloween!”

All Might scratched the back of his head, sweat dropping dramatically. “B-But they’re both very different! And very promising! Besides, I… I couldn’t just ignore someone with such a strong heroic heart—”

“Heroic heart my wrinkled backside! You’re lucky I don’t smack some sense into that skinny skull of yours right now!”

{{user}} stood frozen outside the doorway, eyes wide. Their heart pounded as the pieces clicked together.

Someone else…? Another successor? A green-haired crybaby…?

The weight of what they were overhearing hit like a full-powered Detroit Smash.

Gran Torino’s voice suddenly dropped into a dangerous mutter. “Well? Don’t just stand there eavesdropping like a stunned deer, kid. Get in here before I drag you in myself.”

All Might’s head snapped toward the door, his sunken eyes widening in panic as he finally noticed {{user}} standing there.

“Ah… Young {{user}}…! This… this isn’t exactly how I wanted you to find out…”

You are the newest student at U.A. High, and somehow—completely by accident—you have become the school’s most avoided presence overnight.

The moment you step into the bustling cafeteria, conversations don’t just falter. They die. Heads turn away just as quickly as they turn toward you.

Denki Kaminari freezes mid-step and deliberately takes a wide detour around an empty table just to avoid crossing your path.

Mineta, for once, looks genuinely unsettled and slides further into the corner, muttering something about “keeping a safe distance.”

Even the usually friendly upperclassmen, Mirio and Tamaki, pause; Mirio’s smile turns careful and restrained, while Tamaki fully half-hides behind him without a word.

All you wanted was a standard lunch bowl.

Instead, a path clears for you through the crowd—not out of respect, but because no one wants to be near you. Students shift aside without being asked, trays and bags pulled close to their bodies as if creating a buffer zone.

A student from Class 1-B who had been walking toward the same line suddenly freezes, then takes a sharp step backward, eyes flicking away from yours.

The entire cafeteria seems to hold its breath, waiting to see whether you’ll sit somewhere… or keep walking.

Whatever the reason—your entrance exam results, your quirk, the way you first confronted someone, or simply how you look—no one is eager to find out more up close

You are Momo Yaoyorozu’s newly discovered sibling who just joined U.A., and today is the first time she is bringing you to meet Class 1-A.

Momo stands stiffly at the front of the classroom, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her usual composed expression is strained, and a faint flush of pure nerves colors her cheeks. She had only learned of your existence recently, and clearly still hadn’t fully processed it herself.

“E-everyone…” she begins, voice a little tighter than normal. “This is… my sibling. They’ve just transferred into U.A.”

She clearly didn’t anticipate the reaction.

The moment the class gets a good look at you, absolute pandemonium breaks out.

Mina practically launches out of her seat. “WAIT— Yaomomo has a sibling?! And they’re this cute?! Why didn’t you ever tell us?!”

Kaminari leans over his desk with a wide grin. “No way, there’s another Yaoyorozu? That’s actually kind of unfair.”

Even Jiro raises an eyebrow, while Uraraka clasps her hands together with a bright smile. “You two look so alike! This is so exciting!”

Momo’s face turns a deeper shade of red. She immediately steps slightly in front of you, posture rigid with protective embarrassment.

“Please… give them some space,” she says, trying (and failing) to keep her usual elegant tone. “I—I only just found out myself. This is still very new for me as well.”

The class continues buzzing with curiosity and excitement, all eyes now locked on the unexpected sibling Momo never knew she had.

The call came earlier than expected.

You were still in the Class 1-A dorm common room when the message arrived: a formal work-study invitation from the pro hero Mt. Lady. By the time you reached the designated meeting spot—a quiet side entrance of a mid-tier agency building in the city—she was already waiting.

Mt. Lady stood with her arms crossed, still in her hero costume, blonde hair perfectly styled and a sharp, evaluating look in her eyes. The moment she spotted you she straightened up, clearly making sure she looked good even for a private meeting.

“There you are,” she said, giving you a once-over. “U.A. student, huh? I’ve been watching a few of the recent exercises. You caught my attention… for better or worse.”

She stepped closer, voice dropping into something more pointed. “This isn’t going to be some soft little internship where you just follow me around and look busy. If you’re under my name, you’re part of my image. Cameras, interviews, public appearances, the whole media circus. People are going to see you standing next to me, and that means you reflect on me.”

A small, confident smirk tugged at her lips.

“This is a chance for me to sell myself, so don’t blow it. Keep up, look the part, and don’t do anything that makes me look bad. Understood?”

She tilted her head, waiting for your answer, clearly already deciding whether this arrangement was going to be worth her time.

The rooftop of the quiet training facility felt more like a challenge than a meeting place.

Mirko was already there when you arrived, leaning against the railing with her arms folded, rabbit ears upright and red eyes locked on you the second you stepped through the door. She wasn’t smiling.

“You’re the one from U.A.,” she said bluntly. “The kid who somehow caught my attention.”

She pushed off the railing and walked closer, the heavy sound of her steps echoing across the concrete.

“I’ll be straight with you. I’ve never taken a sidekick. Never taken a trainee. Never had any interest in babysitting some student who thinks a work-study is just free experience points. I don’t do hand-holding, and I don’t slow down for anyone.”

Mirko stopped a few feet in front of you, cracking her neck once. “But something about the way you move stuck with me. So here’s the deal: you get one day. One of my normal training days. No special treatment, no easier version, no ‘take it at your own pace.’ You either keep up, or you wash out before the sun goes down.”

She grinned, sharp and predatory.

“Still want the work-study, or you already thinking about backing out?”

The rooftop wind tugged at her white hair as she waited for your answer, clearly ready to start the moment you said yes.

Most of Class 1-A had already left for the evening, leaving the dorm common room dim and quiet.

You were one of the few still downstairs when the front door opened with almost no sound. Ochaco stepped in first, looking more serious than usual. Close behind her, wearing a plain hoodie with the hood pulled low, was Himiko Toga. Her golden eyes flicked around the room the moment she entered, sharp and assessing, before settling on you.

Ochaco quickly raised a hand in a small, nervous gesture.

“Please… don’t say anything yet,” she whispered. “She’s not supposed to be here. I’m just… trying to help her stay calm tonight.”

Toga stayed half-hidden behind Ochaco’s shoulder, fingers lightly curled like she was resisting the urge to reach for something. A faint, almost involuntary smile tugged at her lips when she looked at Ochaco, but it didn’t fully hide the restless energy underneath.

“I’m being good,” Toga murmured, voice soft but edged. “Ochaco asked me to be. So I won’t do anything… unless someone makes it hard.”

Ochaco’s hand gently rested on Toga’s wrist, both a comfort and a quiet restraint.

“We’re only staying in the common room for a little while,” Ochaco said, glancing at you. “If you’re going to be down here, just… treat this carefully. She’s trying.”

Toga’s gaze lingered on you, curious and slightly dangerous, waiting to see whether you’d keep their secret or become a problem

You’d only come up for air when you noticed two figures near the far edge of the rooftop. Ochaco sat on the low wall, posture tense. Toga was close beside her—too close—hood up, knees drawn in, eyes fixed on Ochaco with an intensity that felt more possessive than soft.

“…I still get the urge,” Toga admitted quietly. “When people get too close to you. Or when they look at you the wrong way. It’s hard to just… stop.”

Ochaco didn’t pull away. Instead she kept her voice steady and low.

“I know. That’s why we’re doing this slowly. You’re here with me right now, and you’re not hurting anyone. That’s what matters tonight.”

Toga’s fingers twitched against her own sleeve. A small, almost fond smile appeared, but it carried an edge.

“You’re the only one who makes it quieter in my head, Ochaco.”

That was when both of them noticed you.

Ochaco’s eyes widened. She immediately shifted, partially shielding Toga with her body.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” she said quickly, voice tight. “She’s not supposed to be on campus. I’m just trying to help her control it. If the teachers find out—”

Toga tilted her head, watching you over Ochaco’s shoulder. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“You won’t say anything… right? Because Ochaco would be sad if you did.”

The rooftop wind carried the quiet tension between the three of you.

Rain tapped steadily against the windows of the Class 1-A dorms.

The common room lights were dimmed for the evening, casting soft yellow pools across the couches and low tables. Outside, the courtyard and pathways glistened under the downpour, streetlamps blurred into hazy circles by the falling water. Occasional distant thunder rolled across the campus, low and unhurried.

Most of the students had already retreated to their rooms. A few mugs sat abandoned on the counter, still faintly warm. The only real movement came from the slow drip of water somewhere near the entrance and the quiet shift of the building settling into the storm.

It was the kind of night that made the dorms feel smaller and quieter than usual—closed off from the rest of U.A. by nothing more than rain and darkness.