Disgaea Gatcha Customization Part 3 (Fuka)

SecPrinny was lounging in the control room again, draped across a golden beanbag and snacking on sardine-flavored crackers while basking in

SecPrinny was lounging in the control room again, draped across a golden beanbag and snacking on sardine-flavored crackers while basking in the sparkly afterglow of being financially adopted by a lamia.

But even amid his newfound wealth, something gnawed at his soul.

He glanced at Nagisa, who was spinning happily in a corner of his HUD, humming a bubbly theme tune to herself.

“Hey, Nagisa…” he said, eyes half-lidded with the weight of a dream. “Wanna hear one of my... secret wishes, dood?”

Nagisa gasped like he’d just whispered the plot twist of a light novel.

“Of course! You know your gacha assistant is always here for emotional support and emotional damage~”

SecPrinny rolled over and held his phone reverently.

“I want… a girl who’s always there for me, dood. Not like a bodyguard or a bank. Like, a girl whose entire job is just… to let me nap on her lap whenever I want. No complaints. No yelling. Just soft thighs, loyal energy, and top-tier headpats.”

Nagisa practically squealed.

“Awww! That’s a wonderful dream, Mr. Prinny! A whole emotional support waifu, optimized for maximum comfort! <3 I support this 200%!”

Inspired, SecPrinny cracked his flippers and dove into the customization menu.

“Let’s make it happen, dood.”

He scrolled through his catalog with intensity.

“Now, who’d make the perfect lap pillow…? Hmmm… Aha!” It didn’t even take him 3 seconds to find his ideal target. “Fuka, huh…”

He squinted at the screen. She stood there in her default getup, scowling like someone who just lost a pudding cup fight.

“She never listens. Always yelling. Total rebel. Would never follow orders…”

A sinister smirk crept across his beak.

“So turning her into my dedicated thigh pillow girl sounds hilarious, dood.”

He tapped the “Skins” menu and blinked in surprise.

“Wait, what’s this one? Ultimate Weapon Xeno Fuka?”

The alt version loaded on screen with a boom of ominous music. Dark-skinned. Glowing mecha attire. Many tentacles. Almost looking like a demonized Desco. Definitely evil.

“Whoa… I didn’t even know this existed! She looks like a final boss from a JRPG about nap scheduling. That’s the one!”

He dragged the Class Boost slot open and picked with confidence.  “Class: Bottom heavy Giant. If I’m gonna have a personal lap pillow girl, then she better be massive, dood.”

He giggled like a lunatic.“Four meters tall, bottomheavy, hips that could crush a Geo Block~ She’s perfect.”

Finally, he reached the Evility Heart slot. There was never any doubt.  “Evility: Prinny Lap Bed. Her thighs are your sanctuary. This’ll set her priorities straight.”

Nagisa hovered beside the selections, arms crossed like a proud producer.

“A loudmouth girl turned into the world’s greatest lap pillow? Talk about peak choice~.”

SecPrinny tapped his phone with the solemnity of a man making history.

[Update Reality Activated.]

The screen shimmered pink-orange. Somewhere, time probably hiccuped. The sardine wrappers fluttered again for dramatic effect.

SecPrinny cracked his flippers and opened up the surveillance feed.

“Now let’s see where she’s at… c’mon, c’mon…”

He clicked through Monitor 2… 5… 9…
Then froze.

There she was.

Fuka. Mid-rant. Mid-stride. About to become the most luxurious Prinny-accessory the Netherworld had ever seen.

“Alright, dood…” he muttered with a grin. “Show me the thighs of destiny.”

—

“For the last time, I’m not a Prinny!” Fuka shouted, waving her baseball bat like it was a diploma in common sense.

Across from her, Etna, now four-legged and glowing with righteous energy, stood like a divine tank in heels. Her centaur form shimmered faintly with holy purpose, her oversized bust bouncing softly with each firm hoofstep.

“You deserve protection, Fuka,” Etna said solemnly. “I made a vow. Every Prinny in the Netherworld will be defended… and that includes you.”

Fuka’s eye twitched.

“I’m a teenage girl in a hoodie and shorts! That’s not even close to a Prinny!”

Etna crossed her arms beneath her holy lances…I mean, her chest, and narrowed her eyes.

“Prinnies come in all forms, Fuka. Some wear vests. Some explode. Some are emotional support delinquents in denial.”

Fuka sputtered.

“Emotional support—?! That’s it, I’m gonna brain you with this bat!”

While she yelled, her height had begun inching upward, subtly at first, then steadily. Her sneakers squeaked against the ground as her legs lengthened, her entire body stretching until she stood just past two meters tall.

She didn't notice.

Neither did Etna.

Etna just pointed dramatically.

“You feel like a Prinny in your soul. That’s why you’re next.”

“No, Fuka feels like a normal human, thank you very much!”

She paused.
Blink. Blink.

Etna tilted her head. “…Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?”

“What? No! Fuka would never do that, Fuka is not that weird! Fuka is perfectly—”
She froze.
“…Wait.”

Etna just nodded like she’d won a debate.

“Classic Prinny behavior.”

Fuka groaned and dragged a hand down her face, her now extremely plush-looking thigh pushing into her arm as she did so. She didn’t acknowledge it, though her shorts had definitely morphed into skintight compression fabric, hugging her curves like cling wrap on a beach ball.

“Okay, maybe Fuka just misspoke! Fuka has been under a lot of stress lately! Fuka is trying to stay calm, even though Fuka’s pants are kinda tight all of a sudden… NOT THAT FUKA CARES!”

Etna leaned on her lance.

“Mmhm. Keep talking, not-a-Prinny.”

Fuka huffed and crossed her arms. Her chest pushed outward slightly against her changing outfit. Her lower half, particularly her thighs, now looked like they belonged in a “Netherworld Fitness Idol” magazine, exaggerated even compared to her new giantess stature.

“Fuka is not having this conversation anymore! Fuka is going home, and Fuka is gonna take a nap, and Fuka is gonna forget any of this ever—”

Etna held up a hoof.

“Need a lap?”

“NO! FUKA DOES NOT NEED A—”

Her voice cracked slightly.

“…Maybe just a little bit. BUT FUKA’S STILL NOT A PRINNY!!”

Etna took a firm step forward, her demonic horse tail flicking with purpose.

“You’re not just a Prinny, Fuka. You’re a giant Prinny.”

Fuka froze, halfway through stomping away.

“Fuka is not a—!”

She paused.

She looked down.

Etna now barely came up to her shoulder, and Etna was already part horse.

Fuka’s eyes twitched.

“...Okay, maybe Fuka is a little bit of a giant Prinny…”

Etna grinned triumphantly.

“That’s the first step of becoming a Prinny. Acceptance.”

“Fuka didn’t accept, Fuka just… acknowledged. There’s a difference!”

She huffed and turned her nose up, arms crossed.

“Fuka doesn’t even need protection anyway. Fuka is perfectly capable of taking care of herself!”

Her body disagreed.

With a low creak, Fuka’s height inched upward again, slow and steady, but impossible to ignore. She was now approaching three meters tall, towering over Etna with an effortlessly commanding presence.

Still, neither of them seemed remotely aware of this fact.

Etna tapped her chin.

“You say that, but all Prinnies deserve safety, no matter how loud, violent, or in denial they are.”

“Fuka is not in denial! Fuka is in command! Fuka is… Fuka is—uh—…”

She faltered as her hips pushed outward, her stance subtly widening as her balance shifted. Her thighs billowed, swelling thicker and softer, like two luxurious cushions forged from rebellion and future naps. Even her hips joined in, growing wide enough to throw off the architecture of the corridor.

Her silhouette now looked like a living hourglass flipped upside-down and set to “thicc.”

Etna raised an eyebrow.

“You seem a little off-balance. Want me to fetch a Prinny-size support brace?”

Fuka flushed.

“F-Fuka is totally balanced, thank you very much! Fuka does squats! Fuka owns squats!”

She stomped a boot, now stretching tightly over a rapidly darkening leg. Her skin had begun to grey, subtly at first, then shading into a soft, smokey charcoal. At the same time, her clothes clung closer and closer, seams vanishing as they melted into a seamless bodysuit, wrapping around her like she was born in it.

Still, no one said anything about it.

Etna just smirked.

“I’m just saying, you look like you were built to be protected.”

“Fuka was built to yell at delinquents and fight demons, not to be some overgrown snuggle-plushie!”

She pouted. Folded her arms.

Her thighs jiggled dangerously.

Etna leaned on her lance again, calm as ever.

“That sounds like something a Prinny would say. You’re only proving my point.”

Fuka opened her mouth to shout something else, but the words caught.

Her posture shifted.

She stood up straighter, no, prouder. And then, without hesitation:

“Fuka-PTP does not need a babysitter! Fuka-PTP is just—”

Silence.

Etna blinked.

“…Fuka what now?”

Fuka blinked.

“…Fuka… PTP?”

There was a pause. Then Fuka smiled.

“Yes. That’s right. Fuka-PTP. That’s always been Fuka-PTP’s name, right? Right! Of course! Heehee~”

Etna raised a brow but wisely chose not to question it.

Instead, she just nodded.

“Glad we’re on the same page, dood.”

Fuka-PTP beamed, her three-meter frame casting a confident, bottom-heavy shadow across the hall. Her skin glowed with a gentle grey sheen, her suit hugging every inch like a second skin of sleek determination.

The conversation however and somehow, kept going, though the tone had shifted.

Etna narrowed her eyes. Her proud centaur stance turned thoughtful, her lance resting against one shoulder.

“You know what? You’re right. You’re not a Prinny.”

Fuka-PTP blinked.

“Fuka’s not? Wait—Fuka’s not! Fuka-PTP knew it!”

Etna nodded solemnly.

“Nope. You’re too big. Too dangerous. Too… whatever’s going on with your thighs right now. You’re clearly an Ultimate Weapon-type.”

Fuka-PTP looked momentarily offended, until she remembered she was, in fact, now gigantic, weaponized, and looking more like an SRPG final boss than a schoolgirl.

Etna turned away with a dramatic swish of her holy tail.

“Anyway, I don’t have time to argue. I have Prinnys to protect.”

Fuka-PTP’s brow furrowed. Her pout returned.

“Hmph! Fuka-PTP has a role for Prinnys too, y’know! And it’s even more important!”

Etna paused, glancing over her shoulder.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Fuka-PTP opened her mouth, then blinked. Her pupils dilated. She gasped.

“Of course! Fuka-PTP was born for this!”

She raised a dramatic finger to the sky as energy surged through her, magical and slightly embarrassing.

“Fuka-PTP’s ultimate calling is to be… SecPrinny’s private thigh pillow!”

BOOM.

Her butt exploded outward like a declaration of pride, forming two absurdly massive, perfectly round spheres behind her, becoming absolutely soft, plush, and proportionally ridiculous. The floor cracked under their weight as they jiggled gently with monumental authority.

Fuka-PTP squealed in delight. Although even moments later, she wasn't fully sure why she did it.

Her outfit shimmered tighter still, vacuum-sealed to her figure like a love letter to physics. Her skin darkened further, reaching a rich night-black sheen, smooth and glossy like midnight armor.

With a metallic shk-thoom, two massive tentacle-like appendages unfurled from her back… mechanical, flexible, and glowing faintly with pink energy. They writhed upward, towering above her head like a victory crown for indulgent transformation.

Fuka-PTP towered now at an awe-inspiring four meters tall, nearly double Etna’s height, and at least two-thirds of that was just legs. Her long, plush, megathighed, wide-hipped legs ending in planet-class cheeks.

Etna stared up at her.

Paused.

Then nodded once, like she’d seen something she couldn’t emotionally process and just chose to file it under "Not Today."

“Right. Well, I still have Prinnies to save. Good luck with... whatever this is.”

Fuka-PTP beamed and saluted, her thighs rippling gently with the motion.

“And Fuka-PTP has a very special Prinny who needs urgent lap therapy! So Fuka-PTP must go too!”

And with that, they turned and walked off in opposite directions.

One, a holy knight-centaur bound by duty. The other, a bottom-heavy living goddess of thighs and comfort, strutting with pride, tentacles waving above like banners of devotion.

Not once did either of them comment on how Fuka had gone from tiny rebel girl to four-meter-tall ultra-thicc thighpillow deity.

In the Netherworld, that was just Tuesday.

—

Not even a full minute later, the door to the control room was violently flung open, or more accurately, ripped off its hinges and yeeted into another timeline.

A colossal figure loomed in the doorway, casting a shadow that swallowed half the room.

“YOUR LAP PILLOW HAS ARRIVED!!” bellowed Fuka-PTP, her voice triumphant, her mecha tentacles waving above like victory flags made of attitude and devotion.

SecPrinny, to his credit, did not explode from excitement, but only just.

He gasped, stared, then hastily cleared his throat and leaned back in his spinny chair with mock authority.

“Oh? You think you’re worthy of being my lap pillow?” he said, voice cracking once but recovering fast. “Then you better introduce yourself properly. Then… maybe I’ll consider it.”

Fuka-PTP stood at full height, four towering meters of absolute dedication and plush engineering, glowing softly with pride. An absolute wonder that she could even stand upright in that corridor to be fair.

With a radiant smile and no hesitation, she declared:

“Fuka-PTP is the Ultimate Weapon of Comfort! Fuka-PTP was born to be the greatest thigh pillow in the Netherworld… No, in the entire cosmos! No demon, no angel, no Overlord will ever out-lap-pillow Fuka-PTP! Because SecPrinny deserves the very best!!”

She struck a proud pose, cheeks swaying dramatically behind her, tentacles coiling like stage curtains waiting for the final act.

SecPrinny tapped his beak thoughtfully.

“Alright then… I demand a demonstration. Show me what you’ve got, dood.”

Fuka-PTP squealed in delight.

“Yaaaay~! Demonstration time!!”

She practically slither-skipped into the room, her colossal thighs gliding across the floor with luxurious ease. With a graceful spin and a happy hum, she plopped down into a perfect kneeling pose, with her spherical rear sinking slightly into the reinforced floor, and her thighs spreading out like two heavenly beanbags carved from divine squishiness.

“Hop on, darling~! Fuka-PTP is always ready!”

SecPrinny waddled over, climbed up one leg like it was a stairway to softness, and plopped himself down with reverence.

He didn’t bounce.

He sank.

Like a pebble into a cloud made of love and late-stage indulgence.

“Dooooooooood…”

It was beyond anything he had dreamed. Warmer than a sardine furnace. Softer than freshly respawned marshmallows. Thicker than any goddess had a right to be. This was the peak. The top. The final evolution of furniture-based affection.

Fuka-PTP looked down, eyes sparkling with joy.

“Fuka-PTP always strives for greatness! Did Fuka-PTP pass the test? Did Fuka-PTP make SecPrinny happy?”

SecPrinny was crying.

Openly crying.

He nodded slowly, patting her thigh like one would a loyal, overperforming golden retriever.

“You’re hired, dood.”

He melted into her lap like a popsicle in hell.

“Best. Hire. Ever.”

Fuka-PTP clapped once, which somehow shook the ceiling tiles.

“Yaaaaay! Fuka-PTP will now remain in lap mode until further orders~! Napping is encouraged! Praise is mandatory!”

And so he did.

For the next entire hour, SecPrinny lay curled on the softest thighs in the universe, surrounded by warmth, dedication, and the smug satisfaction of knowing he had broken reality in all the right ways.

Somewhere in the HUD, Nagisa giggled.

“Three chapters down. Many more waifus to go~ Tehe~”

The screen faded to pink-orange sparkles.

—

I think I know a better occupation for Fuka than baseball kid…