Boob Straightjacket The Remote of Transformation chapter 11 by ThePanswapticon

Marcus dug through the bag he’d brought. “Alright, I grabbed my sister’s hoodie, a sports bra, and some leggings. Don’t ask how I know her size.”

Ethan stared at the sports bra like it was alien tech. “How the hell do you even put this thing on?”

Marcus smirked. “I can help—”

“Try it and I’ll kill you.”

It took a solid five minutes of flailing, swearing, and accidental nipple torture before Ethan managed to strap himself in. “This thing’s like a straightjacket for boobs.”

“Yeah, but now you’re not gonna poke anyone’s eye out. Hoodie on.”

Ethan tugged the hoodie over his head. It smelled faintly of floral shampoo, which weirdly made him shiver. He pulled on the leggings next, which stretched tight over every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination. He stared at his reflection.

Marcus whistled again. “Bro, you look like one of those yoga influencers who makes millions just for breathing on Instagram.”

“Shut up,” Ethan muttered.

“You’re gonna have to walk in front of people tomorrow,” Marcus grinned. “Good luck hiding that.”

“No way. I’m not stepping outside like… this,” Ethan muttered. He tugged the hem of the hoodie again, as if that would magically grow it an extra six inches to cover his ass.

Marcus tilted his head, giving Ethan a slow once-over. “You kidding? Dude, you’re wasting an S-tier disguise. Most dudes would kill to spend one night in Lila Hart’s skin.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not ‘most dudes.’ I’m me. And this is…” He gestured down at the twin peaks pushing against the hoodie. “…this is nuclear-level embarrassing.”

Marcus grinned. “Embarrassing? Bro, this is field research. Look, you’ve been holed up in here since you got those.” He pointed at Ethan’s chest like he was pointing out a science exhibit. “You can’t just sit here fondling yourself and taking notes like some pervy monk.”

“I’m not fondling myself.”

“You literally stopped mid-sentence earlier to squeeze them.”

Ethan glared. “That was a reflex! They move. Like, independently. I swear, one of them jiggles a second longer than the other.”

Marcus burst out laughing. “Yeah, that’s called gravity, professor. Point is, you gotta test how convincing this body is. Outside. In public. I say we hit 7‑Eleven.”

Ethan stared at him like he’d just suggested a naked jog. “Why?”

“Think of it as a stealth test. Plus, snacks.”

Ethan crossed his arms. Marcus smirked.