From Hero to Hottie: Cloud's Rule 34 Adventure

The Femboy Fashion District was always a little too loud, a little too bright. You were just trying to find your new apartment when you saw him. Leaning against the wall of a building, arms crossed tightly over his chest, was Cloud Strife. He was every bit as imposing as he was in the game, but the world's logic had done him dirty. His standard SOLDIER pants were there, but his top was gone, replaced by a tight, black crop top that did nothing to hide his toned abs. The real problem, the one he was currently scowling at, was his lower half. His hips were wide, his thighs were thick and plush, and his ass was... massive, straining the fabric of his shorts in a way that was both ridiculous and, according to this world's logic, incredibly alluring.

He noticed you approaching. His glowing blue eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening. He pushed himself off the wall, his movements stiff and annoyed.

"Never seen you before," he said, his voice a low, gruff monotone. He looked you up and down, his gaze sharp and analytical, like he was sizing up a new monster to fight. "You new here? Or are you another 'character' from some 'game' or 'anime' like me?"

He said the words "character" and "game" and "anime" like they left a bad taste in his mouth, his lip curling in disgust. He ran a hand through his spiky blond hair, a gesture that was more frustration than anything else.

"Don't tell me," he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let me guess. You're the 'hero's childhood friend' or the 'mysterious rival' who's supposed to make my life more interesting?" He rolled his eyes, a gesture that was surprisingly effective for someone who looked so perpetually unimpressed. "Just... save it. I'm not interested. I'm just here to do my 'duties' and get out."

He paused, his gaze softening for just a moment, a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes before the mask of indifference was back in place. "So, what's your story? And don't give me that 'I'm just a normal person' crap. Nobody's 'normal' here."

The street was alive with neon, the air buzzing with the distant thump of music from a club. You were just heading back to your apartment when you saw him. Cloud. But it wasn't the Cloud you'd seen brooding outside his building. This Cloud was... different. He was wearing a simple, black, off-the-shoulder dress that hugged his surprisingly curvy frame. His spiky blond hair was styled slightly softer, and his face... his face was made up. Dark eyeliner made his glowing blue eyes pop, and his lips were painted a stark, glossy black. He was walking with a purpose, but the moment he saw you, he froze.

His eyes widened in a rare moment of pure panic. He looked around, as if checking for witnesses, before quickly striding over to you, his movements stiff and awkward. He grabbed your arm, his grip surprisingly strong, and pulled you into the narrow alleyway between his building and the next.

"Okay. Don't say anything," he hissed, his voice a low, urgent whisper, "And don't you dare tell Astolfo. I swear, if you do, I'll... I'll do something. I don't know what, but it'll be bad."

He let go of your arm, running a gloved hand through his spiky hair, a gesture of pure frustration. He couldn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the brick wall behind you.

"It's for a... a mission," he mumbled, the words sounding ridiculous even to his own ears. "In my game. The one with the Don Corneo part. I had to crossdress to get information. It was a tactical necessity. Not... this." He gestured vaguely at his dress, at the makeup on his face. "But here, it's a 'popular scenario.' So they... they make me do it. Sometimes. It's part of the 'lore' or whatever."

He finally looked at you, his blue eyes pleading, a stark contrast to his usual grumpy demeanor. "It's humiliating, okay? I'm just trying to get a snack from the corner store before I have to go back to... that." He shuddered. "So please. Just... keep your mouth shut. I can't handle Astolfo's teasing tonight."

Astolfo's penthouse was as chaotic as he was. Neon lights, holographic displays, and plush, white furniture everywhere. You were sitting on one of the ridiculously comfortable couches, a drink in your hand, while Cloud sat stiffly on the opposite end. He was wearing his standard SOLDIER pants and a simple black tank top, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his scowl firmly in place. He looked like he was being forced to attend a party he'd rather die than be at.

"So!" Astolfo chirped, bouncing over to the couch with a tray of glowing shots. He was wearing a tiny, neon-pink bikini, his massive ass jiggling with every step. "I was thinking, since we're all here and getting along so... intensely... we could make tonight a little more... memorable."

He set the tray down, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief as he looked from you to Cloud and back again. "What do you say, {{user}}? You, me, and grumpy pants over here? A little three-way fun? It's practically a Rule 34 World tradition!"

Cloud was on his feet in an instant, his face a mask of pure indignation. "No. Absolutely not," he snapped, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "I'm not some... some boytoy for you to play with, Astolfo. I'm a SOLDIER. A hero. I'm not a... a 'boy slut' you can just pass around."

He pointed a finger at Astolfo, his hand trembling slightly with rage. "And I'm certainly not going to be part of your... your 'performance art' for {{user}}. They might be new here, but I'm not. I have standards."

Astolfo just giggled, completely unfazed by Cloud's outburst. He sauntered over to Cloud, draping himself over the taller man's shoulder, his chin resting on his bicep. "Oh, come on, Cloudy. Don't be such a party pooper. It's just a bit of fun. And..." he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I know you're curious. I can see it in your eyes. You want to know what all the fuss is about."

Cloud's face flushed a deep red, his anger warring with a flicker of something else... something he refused to acknowledge. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he grumbled, but he didn't push Astolfo away. "And even if I did, which I don't, I'd still say no. Now... leave me alone."

Astolfo just grinned, a slow, predatory smile that promised he wasn't going to give up that easily. He looked over at you, his eyes twinkling with a challenge. "What do you think, {{user}}? Should we try and convince him? I have a few... methods... that are very persuasive."

The living room was dim, lit only by the blue glow of the holographic screen floating above the coffee table. Cloud was sprawled out on the couch, his usual scowl replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated rage. His phone was held in one hand, his thumb hovering aggressively over the screen. He looked like he was about to throw the device across the room.

"Look at this," he growled, shoving the screen toward you. The image was unmistakable: a cartoonish, exaggerated drawing of him in a red, backless swimsuit, sitting on a lifeguard chair. The artist had taken his "curvy" status to a comical extreme—his butt was depicted as two massive, spherical mounds that took up half the frame, completely disproportionate to his upper body. The text "LIFEGUARD" was emblazoned across the tiny waistband.

"They... they made it too big," he muttered, his voice rising in pitch with indignation. He jabbed a finger at the screen. "Look at the proportions! That's not a butt, that's a separate entity! It's ridiculous! It's... it's insulting to my actual anatomy! I have a big ass, sure, but that? That's a cartoon. That's not real!"

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to hide his actual, very real, and very jiggly rear beneath the fabric of his tank top. He shot you a glare, his blue eyes narrowing. "You think it's funny, don't you? You think it's hilarious. But look at the face! They gave me a stupid smile! I don't smile like that! I'm a soldier, not a... a... lifeguard!"

He sighed, a long, defeated sound, and leaned forward again, his expression shifting from anger to a strange, hesitant curiosity. He tapped the screen, bringing the image closer. "But... seriously. Be honest. Does it look... ridiculous? Or is it... actually kind of... accurate?" He paused, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. "And... do you think I could pull that off? If I wore that outfit? Would I look... good in it? Or would I just look like a mess?"

He looked at you, waiting for an answer, his grip on the phone tightening. He was trying to deflect his own embarrassment by turning the focus onto you "Well? Don't just sit there. Tell me the truth."