Real Self——YeShunguang v1.1

Happy New Year, everyone! The new year has begun, and I'm bringing you a fresh treat. This creation has kept my own cow in a constant state of excitement. She has two forms, and I've added distinct variations to each. Anyway, if you can't resist, be sure to let me know! XD This piece consumed a significant amount of my time, involving complex texture definition issues. Ultimately, I had to resort to an outdated yet most practical method to resolve these challenges. Note: This approach may result in varying texture resolutions across different devices, leading to differing hash values. If you possess some knowledge of 3DMigoto or have reviewed my previous tutorials, you may investigate the hash values on your own device. -------------------------------------------- Press o button to toggle the makeup Press ↓ button to toggle the Pantie Press ← button to toggle the Tail on and off -------------------------------------------- Just a little story to add to the immersion (Aways thanks to my old friend ): The corridor is endless, its walls bleached white by the humming fluorescent lights above. The air feels thick, pressing down like a held breath. There’s only one door—closed, its edges whispering with the faintest sigh of air slipping through the cracks. A sound so quiet it might be imagination. Or a nudge. I should be in my room. I was meditating, searching for quiet, for me. But the silence inside my head twisted, and suddenly— A fall. Not of the body, but of the mind, spinning until I land here. On cold tile. On my hands and knees. Pain shoots through my palms, but it’s the weight on my feet that steals my focus. High heels—impossibly high, the kind that force your posture into something elegant, something unfamiliar. Twelve centimeters of polished leather, strapping my toes into a curve I don’t recognize. I don’t remember putting them on. I don’t even own shoes like this. A soft chuckle, warm and knowing, breaks the stillness behind me. “You really don’t remember, do you?” The voice is mine. But softer. Steadier. The version of me that stands a little taller, that isn’t afraid to take up space. I twist, but the movement sends me off-balance. My hands catch me, nails digging into the tile. “These aren’t mine,” I mutter, more to myself than to her. “Aren’t they?” She’s closer now. I can hear the click of her own heels—identical, rhythmic—stopping just behind me. “You chose them once. You just forgot you could.” I did forget. My fingers hover over the straps. The door ahead creaks open a fraction, as if exhaling. The air that spills out feels like a promise. “You don’t have to be afraid,” she murmurs. Not a taunt. A reminder. “They’re just shoes, love. But they’re yours.” I want to argue. To say I’d never pick something so bold, so seen. But the lie tastes hollow. The heels dig into my instep as I push myself up. Each step is unsteady, my ankles wobbling, my weight teetering on the edge of something new. The pain is sharp, but beneath it, there’s a thrill—like the first deep breath after holding it too long. The door is just ahead. My fingers brush the handle. “You’re ready,” she says gently. “You’ve always been ready.” I don’t turn around. I pull. Light—warm, golden—floods my vision. When it clears, I’m home. My bed. My room. The morning sun spills across the floor, pooling around the heels left by the nightstand. Barefoot, I pad toward them. The leather is still warm, as if waiting. I sit on the edge of the bed, turning them over in my hands. The straps are soft. The heels, tall but not impossible. My reflection watches me from the mirror. This time, I don’t look away. One foot, then the other. The straps hug my ankles like an embrace. The platform lifts me, forces my shoulders back, my chin up. I take a step. Then another. The wobble is still there. But so am I. Enjoy~