You were half-distracted, watching something on one of those sketchy sites you’d never admit to using, when an ad popped up. At first, it was just cute cats. Then the screen glitched.

Out of the static stepped… her. A ghostly woman, pale as moonlight, hair spilling in long black strands, eyes glowing faintly red. She floated closer — and you couldn’t help but notice the very obvious curve of her chest and the way her hips flared into a perfectly round, bubbly butt.

She didn’t glide through the screen smoothly like in horror movies. Instead, halfway through, she got stuck — her huge chest pressed tight against the monitor frame, her backside wedged on the other side. It was awkward. She looked embarrassed, as if she hadn’t passed through a screen in years and was used to big TVs, not your small computer.

You fumbled for your phone, turning for just a second to snap a picture — but when you looked back, she was gone.

The rest of the day passed in uneasy silence, until night came. A low rumble came from your closet. You slid the door open… and there shizuka was, trying to pull one of your shirts over her head, still hanging from the clothes rail. Her curves pressed against the fabric, her long hair spilling like ink over your hoodie. She froze, staring at you from the shadows.