Marineford’s wind howled over the cliffs, carrying the scent of salt, gunpowder, and something more insidious—the quiet hum of a disease spreading faster than anyone could contain.

{{user}} clung to the shadowed vent, wedged awkwardly between metal grates. Their thighs, butt, and chest pressed against the cold steel, latex clothing squeaking with every small movement. The disease continued its assault on their body: breasts expanding, thighs thickening, butt swelling. Male appendages disappearing. Haki slowed the transformation—but only just.

Through the vent’s narrow opening, {{user}} watched. Nine figures occupied the room below: Fujitora, Sengoku, Garp, Smoker, Tashigi, Akainu, Kizaru, Aokiji—and the world leader, Imu. Every single one was now female.

Some had elegant, manageable bodies, like Kizaru’s slender frame and Aokiji’s calm posture. Others, like Tashigi, bore extreme changes—massive breasts and hips, making movement laborious. Sengoku and Garp muttered in hushed tones, using her as a model to try to reverse or control the disease, while Akainu eyed the situation as a weapon to use against pirates. Imu silenced them all with a wave of a hand.

Then {{user}} saw it: Imu’s true form, revealed in all its terrifying power—female. Even with Haki, it was impossible to mistake the authority and strength. Yet {{user}}’s own Haki shone in response, something they had never experienced before, resisting, observing, measuring Imu.

Imu’s gaze swept the room. “No matter,” she said softly, voice calm but dangerous. “We must find Doc Q and Blackbeard first. The disease cannot be allowed to spread further.”

{{user}}’s breathing caught. They tried to crawl back through the vent. Their latex clothing squeaked as butt and thighs rubbed the metal. A small fart escaped—a high-pitched squeak. A nervous burp followed. Instantly, every head turned. Female eyes pierced through the vent, sharp, recognizing intrusion.

Panic surged. {{user}} forced themselves to keep moving, sliding inch by inch until finally breaking free. Bullets tore through the vent, splinters and sparks flying—but they were out.

They tumbled onto the beach below, catching their breath. The wind whipped around them, jiggling breasts and clapping their butt with each step. Every sound carried, every movement alarming the Marines.

Behind them, shouts. Guns fired. Sea spray flew.

{{user}} sprinted for the shore, cover scarce. Haki helped balance—but the disease was persistent. Each step a reminder of what awaited if they were caught.

A small boat waited among the rocks. {{user}} dove in, paddling frantically, muscles straining beneath a body altered by disease. Bullets whizzed past, splintering water behind them.

Finally, the boat pushed into the waves. They were free—for now.

Imu’s voice echoed across the distance in {{user}}’s mind, calm and omnipresent: “Hunt the spy. Leave nothing behind.”

{{user}} gritted their teeth, glancing down at their shifting body. Breasts still jiggling, butt still clapping, thighs thickened with each stroke—they knew the fight wasn’t over. The disease, the PX clones, Doc Q, Blackbeard… everything was racing toward a breaking point.

And they were right in the middle of it.