Disgaea Gatcha Customization Part 4 (Flonne)

The control room lights dimmed ever so slightly as SecPrinny reclined into his usual pose of mischief and minimal responsibility. Sardine cr

The control room lights dimmed ever so slightly as SecPrinny reclined into his usual pose of mischief and minimal responsibility. Sardine crumbs dotted the console like dust. Nagisa floated lazily in his HUD, humming a tipsy jingle she had apparently just made up on the spot.

SecPrinny was back on his gacha nonsense, scrolling through his most recent loot haul like a greedy child rifling through post-Halloween candy.

“Garbage… more garbage… ‘Princessy Pose Boost’? Meh. ‘Sardine-Obsession’? Tempting… but still meh.”

Then he stopped.

Evility Heart: Drunk Layabout Ruffian
“Prefers brawling and drinking over actual responsibilities. Will fight a broom before using one.” (Seriously. That’s in the tooltip.)

SecPrinny stared.

Then snorted.

Then doubled over laughing.

“Oh my DEVILS, dood! This is AWFUL. Why would anyone ever use this on anyone? Who would they even use this on? Like, there is no way there is a good target for this crap…?”

The laughter cut off. His eyes narrowed. His smile slowly widened.

“…Flonne.”

He opened the customization menu with predatory glee.

“Miss ‘Peace and Love.’ Miss ‘Violence is never the answer, until I pull out my gun.’ Miss ‘Let me hug the demon until it cries.’ Oh yes. This is going to be delicious.”

Nagisa appeared in a sparkle, floating upside down with curiosity.

“Oho~ You’re targeting Flonne for this one? What’s the plan, dood? Gonna turn her into a love-preaching liquor gremlin?”

SecPrinny tapped the costume tab. “First… Costume: ‘User’s Maid.’ Classic, useful and clean. Perfect setup for comedic whiplash. Everyone loves an incapable maid.”

Then he yanked open the Class Boost list and slammed in the big one.

“Class: War Oni. Because if she’s gonna be bad at cleaning and good at brawling, she might as well have the power to punch the dirt into another dimension.”

He sat back, admiring his handiwork like a painter staring at their soon-to-be masterpiece.

Nagisa twirled a pixelated rose between her fingers. “A pacifist angel turned lazy oni brawler maid? You’re just evil~”

“I’m a visionary, dood.”

Still grinning, SecPrinny picked up his intercom mic and dialed a familiar line.

Bzzzt—

“Seraphina darling~” he cooed, waiting for the ecstatic response of his very own Lamia sugar momma. 

“I would have a humble request, dood. Do you think you can find any fine liquor in your Netherworld pantry? Something you wouldn’t miss too much.”

—

The door to the control room slid open with a cheerful chime.

“Hellooo, Mister Prinny~!” Flonne sang as she skipped inside, hands clasped in front of her like a schoolgirl on her way to a hugging contest. “You called for me?”

SecPrinny swiveled in his chair slowly, dramatically, holding a delicate wineglass aloft like some kind of suspiciously classy goblet goblin. Inside shimmered a rich amber liquid. Seraphina’s finest “low-tier” liquor, which probably cost more than the control room.

“Why yes, dood. I did call. I have something special for you.”

Flonne tilted her head. “Oh? Is it… a mission of love?”

“It’s a gift.” SecPrinny presented the glass with a slight bow. “From all the Prinnies you’ve helped. A token of their eternal, probably emotional, and maybe financial gratitude.”

“Oh! That’s so sweet!” Flonne reached for it instinctively, then paused. Her angelic smile dimmed into worry. “Wait, is that alcohol? I-I really shouldn’t… love and liquor don’t mix! I’m an angel of purity and—”

Click.

Update Reality: Activated.

The pink-orange shimmer danced across the air like a sneaky fairy committing tax fraud. A hum tickled the edges of the room. SecPrinny leaned back, watching.

Flonne blinked mid-sentence.

Then her eyes narrowed, just a bit. Her grip on the wineglass firmed up like it suddenly weighed nothing.

“...Well. One sip probably won’t hurt, right? For gratitude and peace and... hic…stuff~”

She took a generous chug.

The effect was immediate.

Her red-and-white dress rippled like water, the crimson bleeding into black. Frills curled into jagged outlines. The collar dipped lower, looser, like it was exhausted just trying to stay wholesome. Her boots morphed into something heavier, but still sparkly. Her hair fluffed slightly, messier and with more rebellious bounce.

And her eyes became wide.

Dilated.

Shining like a girl who just found out “angel wine” wasn’t just a name.

“Aaaah~!” Flonne gasped, holding the glass to her chest with both hands. “This is delicious! It’s like peace and love are making out on my tongue!”

She took another long drink, cheeks flushing a warm pink as her posture swayed. “Ooooh, I feel kinda floaty~ but also like I could punch a planet!”

SecPrinny nodded solemnly. 

Above her eyes, something sharp poked upward, just a tiny nub at first. A horn. Slowly, gently, unapologetically pushing through her soft blond hair like a drunken thought trying to become a lifestyle.

Flonne didn’t notice.

Or didn’t care.

Probably both.

She wobbled slightly, then took another sip, emptying the entire cup. Her dress continued shifting, tightening around her waist, darkening further, like it had given up on modesty entirely and embraced power-slouch aesthetics.

“Dood,” SecPrinny whispered, eyes wide with awe. “This is gonna be beautiful. So tell me Flonne, what are your thoughts of being a maid?”

Flonne blinked at SecPrinny’s question as if he’d just asked her to mop the Netherworld with a toothbrush.

“Maid? Me? No way, Mister Prinny!” she huffed, planting her hands on her hips with drunken righteousness. “I’m an An-Oni, now! You can’t make a WAR ONI clean stuff! That’s like asking Laharl to file taxes!”

Her horn gave a defiant twitch. Her cheeks were flushed, her tone was slurred with conviction.

SecPrinny, undeterred, reached under the desk and revealed… the bottle.

Seraphina’s low-tier liquor, still expensive enough to buy three satellites and a Prinny rehab center. The amber liquid caught the dim light like liquid mischief.

Flonne’s eyes lit up like someone had cast Mega Sparkle on her soul.

“...Is that... more?” she whispered, voice reverent.

He held it out.

“For the maid,” he said with mock solemnity.

She snatched the bottle so fast it left afterimages.

“Well... if I were to be a maid… hic… I’d only be your maid. For the booze. And love. Probably mostly the booze. But also peace, or whatever~!”

She took a massive swig, guzzling it like it was holy nectar. The effects hit instantly.

Her horn pulsed and grew longer, curling slightly with jagged Oni pride. Her arms thickened with lean muscle. Still cute, still angelic, but now packing the kind of power that could scrub a hallway clean with one punch. Her dainty frame gave way to solid, confident strength, the kind only found in back-alley brawlers and really intense cafeteria ladies.

The frills of a maid dress blossomed across her blackened, battle-worn attire like a joke that was becoming reality. Ribbons appeared. Lace danced along her hem. Her boots thickened into stompy, sensible maid footwear.

SecPrinny crossed his flippers, leaning back smugly.

“So? What do you think about being my maid now, dood?”

Flonne wobbled slightly, blinked once, then twice, then struck a proud pose with the bottle balanced on one hip like it was a war trophy.

“For youuuu~? Flonne would even be a maid, yes she would~! For peace, for love, and for liquor!”

She took another long, unrepentant chug. Her horn extended further, proud and wicked. Her hair flared behind her like wings of tipsy determination. Her full maid outfit now clung to her toned body—still frilly, still “adorable,” but clearly worn by someone who could bench-press a vending machine and use it as a broom.

SecPrinny watched her drink, mesmerized.

She didn’t even notice how far gone she was. Or maybe she didn’t care. Either way… his Violent Maid was almost ready.

The last drops of liquor slid down Flonne’s throat with a dramatic glug. She swayed slightly, the empty bottle hanging from one hand like a sacred relic. Her cheeks were glowing, rosy, radiant, and powered by pure booze-induced bliss.

Then, slowly, she turned.

A dopey, drunken smile stretched across her face as she stumbled toward SecPrinny, her heavy boots thudding like a mini-boss entrance. When she reached his desk, she paused, spread her arms wide like she was about to hug the entire world, and then bent forward into a bow.

Or, at least, she tried to.

She wobbled left. Then right. Then forward again.

It was less of a bow and more like a determined attempt to headbutt the floor with dignity. Somehow, she recovered (barely) and looked up at him, still grinning.

SecPrinny raised an eyebrow. “So… are you ready to be my maid now, dood?”

Flonne blinked, her expression shifting from cheerful confusion to deep, philosophical offense.

“Whaddaya mean, Mister Prinny?” she slurred. “F-Flonne’s already your maid!”

She puffed out her chest proudly, fists on her hips. The pose would’ve looked heroic if she hadn’t immediately swayed and bonked her shin on the corner of the desk.

SecPrinny giggled. “Okay, okay. So how good are you at it, huh?”

Flonne wobbled again, staring off into the middle distance as if the question required deep contemplation. Her fingers twitched. Her eye twitched. She nodded.

“Good ‘nuff,” she declared with absolute drunken certainty.

SecPrinny tilted his head. “Your eyes say ‘disaster,’ dood.”

Her only response was a hiccup and a smug wink.

He leaned back, flippers behind his head, still amused. “Alright, maid-o-mine… what do you think about Love and Peace now?”

That’s when it changed.

Flonne’s goofy expression fell into a grin… a different grin. One that said, “I enjoy bar fights.”

She cracked her knuckles.

Loudly.

One. By. One.

Each crack was like a threat to the very air in the room.

SecPrinny sat bolt upright. A chill ran down his spine that could’ve frozen an entire bottle of demon whiskey.

Flonne took a step forward, her boots thudding like war drums, her horn casting a wicked shadow across her glowing red eyes.

She leaned in, voice low, steady, and dangerously cheerful:

“Anyone who doesn’t do what you say, Master… is gonna meet my Love and Peace.”

Another step.

“Close.”

Another.

“And.”

Her grin stretched wide, eyes glinting with divine chaos.

“Personal.~”

SecPrinny gulped. Hard.

“Oh, dood…” he whispered to himself. “What have I created…?”

Nagisa popped up in the HUD with a peace sign and an innocent smile.

“Your very own drunken, violent oni maid! Now that’s workplace efficiency~!”

—

The control room door slammed shut behind Flonne with the force of a drunken freight train. The walls rattled. The sardine wrappers trembled. A half-empty can of sardines on the console did a wobbly little pirouette before falling over with a sad plink.

SecPrinny slumped in his chair, utterly boneless from stress.

“...Dood.”

He let out a long, soul-weary sigh that probably shaved five years off his afterlife.

“Sending her on that ‘get more booze and punch anything that blinks’ mission was the smartest panic move I’ve ever done… but dood, that interaction took actual life off my already dead bones.”

He closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Let the peace return.

Then—

“You need not worry.”

The voice was soft. Powerful. Comforting.

“As long as you are in my presence, I will always keep you safe, Master.”

SecPrinny jolted upright, eyes wide… until he realized the voice was coming from directly above him.

Wait.

His flipper twitched.

He was… sitting on something warm.

Something plush.

Something… expansive.

He slowly turned his head and looked down. Then upwards.

“…Oh, right, dood.”

It all came rushing back.

Fuka. Fuka-PLP. His four-meter-tall bottom-heavy lap pillow giantess. She’d knelt down earlier and offered her titanic thighs as a throne, and in all the chaos with Flonne, he’d completely forgotten he’d taken her up on it.

SecPrinny stared at the soft mountain range of comfort he’d been lying across like a passed-out noble.

“How did I even forget you were here…?”

Fuka beamed, face proud and eyes sparkling with childlike joy.

“That means I’m doing my job perfectly~!” she declared, puffing out her chest in triumph. “A thigh bed’s job is to provide comfort without intruding on their Master. If you don’t notice me, then I’m doing an excellent job! Ahahahaha~!”

SecPrinny blinked slowly. Stared at the camera feed still sparking from Flonne’s exit. Then back at Fuka’s beaming, smug face.

“...Never in my death, dood,” he muttered, “did I think I’d get a full-on lecture from a giant thigh pillow girl… after nearly having a heart attack from a drunken oni maid.”

Fuka just giggled, proudly fluffing her thighs beneath him like the world’s most enthusiastic couch cushion.

“Fuka-PLP exists only to support you~! Even emotionally~!”

SecPrinny flopped back into her lap with a groan.

“Y’know what? I’ll take it.”

Because in the end, after all the chaos, reality warping, and emotional damage…

Sometimes you just need a nap on the world’s greatest thighs.

—

Do you really think its a good idea to turn Flonne into… okay, you do you, I suppose…