Adapted Anonymous [Man to Asian Beauty TG] - Part 2

Michael is your average guy, living an average, stagnant life, when suddenly he is transformed into a beautiful Asian woman. Struggling with the change, he begins attending Adapted Anonymous and ends up finding friendship, love and self-acceptance along the way.

~

The rest of my work week was no better than the first day back. By the time the next Adapted Anonymous meeting rolled around, I was half tempted to quit. Nobody took me seriously anymore. The fresh-faced high schooler garnered more respect from customers than I did, and he barely knew the difference between the different kinds of USB cables. If nothing else, I was looking forward to having a captive audience to whinge to about how awful my week had been. 

I pushed open the door to the community centre and made my way to the room from last time, only to turn the corner and come face to face with Terry and Sherri. Well, face-to-face might not be accurate, because Terry was holding Sherri up by the hips and moaning as they made out, only stopping when Sherri gave a little shriek of surprise. 

“Uh, hi?”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Terry cried, “Perv!”

“Yeah, get going!” Sherri added.

“You guys are the ones going at it in a public hallway,” I muttered, rushing past, head down and cheeks red.

I stepped inside the room, ready to give whoever else was here an earful about my week and the insanity I’d just witnessed, only to stop when I saw Daisy crying. She was sitting with her head in her hands while Beatrice patted her back.

“It’s alright, dear. You’ll find something.”

“How? I have no idea how to get my own place…Bob took care of all that, and he’s gone!” Daisy wailed. 

I slipped into one of the chairs in the circle. “What’s going on?”

“Daisy is being kicked out of the retirement home.” Beatrice explained, “They are giving her a week to move out.”

“I’ve lived there the past five years! Ever since Bob passed, our house is gone…I was a homemaker my whole life; I don’t have a job or paychecks, or any of the things I need to rent an apartment. I don't even know how to start! Not to mention my money won't last long, having to pay for rooms! Most of it went to the home already!”

She sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a little embroidered handkerchief; I didn't even know people still used those. 

“I’ll have to get a job and…and a place and start cooking and cleaning again.” She continued, “I will never find a place in a week. I’ll be homeless!”

I fidgeted in my seat awkwardly. She really was an old lady; I felt sorry for her, but this wasn't my problem. I had enough issues to deal with.

“Couldn’t she stay with somebody from the group?” I suggested, and Beatrice shook her head.

“Candy is living at the strip club, she works out, and I live in a one-bedroom loft I rent from a lovely couple downtown. There is Terry and Sherri, of course, but…”

Familiar, angry voices echoed from the hall outside; it seemed sex had turned into an argument at some point. I winced; yeah, I’d rather be homeless than live with that too.

“What about you?” Beatrice continued, “Could Daisy stay with you till she’s on her feet?”

“Me?! But we only met last week!”

“I wouldn't be any trouble,” Daisy begged, blinking her big, blue eyes at me. “I swear, and I am a very good homemaker, I’ll cook and clean for free until I can find some job and start paying rent to find my own place.”

A live-in housekeeper and a chef? That sounded pretty good, actually. Daisy didn't seem like the sort of woman to bring drama; all her friends were old and probably too frail even to make it up the stairs to my place. Daisy was looking at me still with those baby blues that made my insides squirm with guilt. 

“I guess you could stay.”

“Oh, thank you!” She gasped, “Thank you so much, Michael! I swear I won’t cause a lick of trouble.”

Beatrice beamed; her smile made my stomach twist painfully. She looked so proud, like a mother watching her daughter cross the stage at graduation. I couldn't remember the last time somebody had looked at me with pride. The doors opened, and Terry, Sherri and a very pouty-looking Candy walked in.

“I’m just saying if you’re not open to a third, don’t start doing it in the hallway.”

Daisy put her hands over her mouth, looking scandalised. “You didn’t! In public! Where is your sense of decorum!”

Terry and Sherri both huffed and turned away from one another, and Beatrice clapped her hands to get them all settled in. 

“Right then, since you just did Daisy such a big favour, Michael, why don't you go first?”

I launched into my tirade about work. About the needling comments, the patronising way men looked at me when I explained something, the way everybody suddenly seemed to question my expertise. 

“It’s a nightmare.” I groaned. 

“I remember it well.” Beatrice sighed, “When I was a CEO, nobody questioned me. I could say the sky was red, and I’d have people nodding along. Now, though, I have to have my receipts in order even to stand a chance half the time.”

“How do you deal with it? How do you convince them you’re actually a man who knows what he’s talking about?” 

Beatrice gave me a funny look and shook her head. 

“I’m not a man who knows what he’s talking about, I’m a woman who knows what she’s talking about.”

“Yeah, but you were a man first. Just like me. I get it, you accepted it and all that, but doesn't it frustrate you that people treat you…like a woman?”

Beatrice took a deep breath in, and Daisy gave me a scathing look; what? I was just telling the truth. 

“They don’t treat me ‘like a woman’.” Beatrice said with air quotes, “The problem is they treat me as lesser, dumber, weaker, and that is how women are treated just for being women.”

I bit my cheek to keep from arguing that, technically, that was true; women were, on the whole, weaker than men. That wasn't sexist; it was a fact. Sure, women could be just as smart as men, but there was a reason more men were into big business and tech; it just suited them better. Candy took my silence to mean I was finished and quickly launched into her own complaints about her unending libido and inability to resist men. I silently cursed myself for not running into her before the transformation. 

When the meeting was finished, I once again ignored the snack table and headed out. Beatrice’s words were still echoing around in my head for some reason, making my guts squirm with something like guilt for reasons I couldn’t explain. 

“Um, Michael?”

I turned to find Daisy following after me, a little pocketbook in hand. 

“I was wanting to get your address, if it’s still okay for me to stay with you…I could move in tomorrow.”

I forced myself to think of the free meals and wrote down my address, giving Daisy a wave as she headed out.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Beatrice said, stepping into the space the other woman had left. “You think everything I said was bull, some sort of coping mechanism” 

I gave her a polite, awkward smile, but she just shrugged. 

“You’ll understand in time.”

“I’m sure I will.” 

Beatrice gave me a look that said she didn’t believe those words any more than I did. 

~

True to her word, Daisy arrived the next day with two suitcases that looked older than I was. She was dressed in a long dress and a matching cardigan that looked handmade. Physically, she was in her twenties, but those clothes were doing her no favours. 

“Thank you so much for this.” She said sweetly, settling herself on the fold-out couch. “I swear I won’t be much trouble.” 

“Yeah, well…I couldn’t let you get kicked onto the streets.”

I had a woman living with me, a beautiful one…and she was a grandma in disguise. Somehow, I felt robbed. She slid her things under the fold out couch and sat down, letting the awkward silence settle over us before picking up the TV remote.

“Mind if I watch something?”

I shrugged, and she immediately began flicking through the channels before squealing with excitement. 

“Oh, look, you have my soaps.”

Suddenly, the idea of a live-in housekeeper didn't seem worth it. The show looked like it had been filmed about thirty years ago, and followed a doddering pair of ladies as they managed to solve the frankly insane number of murders in a small English village. Daisy watched three episodes back to back and didn't seem tired when the fourth started.

“Oh, I watched this when it first aired.” She said dreamily. “I remember this one, it ends on a cliffhanger with Mrs Saffron in the hands of that evil Baron murderer. I spent the entire summer holiday on edge waiting for the finale…”

After a while, I couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I’m going out.”

“Oh, but they are just about to reveal who the murderer is!” Daisy said in surprise, “Don't you want to know?”

“Not really.” I said harshly, “If it's anything like the last four episodes, it’ll involve a lot of people standing in a room, talking and explaining.”

I didn’t wait to hear Daisy’s response. I closed the door behind me and headed down to the local bar. I’d take expensive beers and slightly static football over another episode of that boring British drivel. I wandered for a while before pushing open the door to the local bar. I didn't come here often, but it was one of the few places I could sit alone for a while and not have to worry about being disturbed. 

“What’ll it be, sweetheart?” The bartender grinned, and I flinched.

“Stout,” I said defiantly, then grimaced as the dark beer was placed in front of me. Who was I kidding? Even drinking this, nobody would think I was manly. Now I just looked like one of those try-hard women who claimed to be ‘one of the boys’. I sipped at it miserably when suddenly, a woman slipped into the chair beside me. 

For a second, I was excited; women never approached me in bars, it was only ever the other way around. But then as my eyes scanned her curvaceous body, they reached her face and the hope died in my throat. 

“Oh, thank God.” Candy sighed, “I am so glad to see you.”

I blinked in surprise, and she laughed.

“That man over there was chatting me up.” She explained, nodding towards the average-looking guy at the other end of the bar. “I was about three seconds from jumping his bones. I’ve been trying to get home for hours.”

“If you’ve been trying to get home, why are you in a bar?”

Candy groaned and leaned over the bartop, her giant breasts squashed between her and the wood. 

“Well, I went to the supermarket. And the cashier was such a hottie, I couldn’t help myself. Then, when we were done, he insisted on walking me home, but we only got halfway before I was ready to go again, and we ended up in that alley over there. We slipped in here to escape, and he ended up scampering, but of course, there are so many men in here…I haven’t been able to tear myself away.” 

The bartender approached, and instantly she was sitting straight again, chest puffed out, flirtatious smile on her face as he took her order. The moment his back was turned to fetch whatever it was Candy ordered, her face fell.

“Oh, dammit!”

“You…really can’t stop yourself?”

“It’s these damn compulsions! I don't want to want them, but every time I see a man who’s even a little bit hot, my pussy starts to cletch, you know the feeling, and I get so wet I just have to fuck them so I can think straight.” 

I flushed bright red; I had barely looked at myself in the shower yet, let alone…experimented. 

“Well, I haven’t really done anything like that yet, so…no.” 

Candy looked at me like I’d just grown a second head.

“You’ve been a woman for weeks, and you’ve not even had sex?” She gasped, “Not even a quick finger fuck?”

“Jesus, Candy, keep your voice down.”

“Sorry, it’s just…you really should.” She giggled, smiling again as the bartender offered her another drink. “It’s soooooo good. Sex as a woman is way better than as a man.”

“We’ren’t you just complaining to me about how much sex you’re compelled to have.”

“I mean, yeah, it takes up a lot of my time.” Candy mused, plucking the cherry off her cocktail and placing it in her mouth. “But it’s so good, you haven’t lived till you’ve had multiple orgasms.”

She gave a soft moan and opened her mouth, plucking the cherry stem, now tied in a knot, off her tongue and back into the glass. The bartender gave her an appreciative look from the other side of the bar, and Candy winked at him before leaning in to whisper in my ear.

“You haven’t…played around?”

Her voice was sultry and warm against the shell of my ear, and I swallowed. I felt heat form between my legs and my new pussy clench; I guess that was the feeling she was talking about. Warm fingers rested atop my hand, and Candy’s expression shifted to something that was half sympathetic, half horny. 

“Did you want me to help you? It might help you release some of that stress you’re carrying…”

My whole body felt hot imagining Candy touching me. Her fingers were soft, and her nails so sharp, she could probably make the sensitive folds between my legs feel so many different things. It sent a shiver through me. She leaned in close, would she try to feel me up right here in front of everybody? The bar only had a handful of men in it, they would probably cheer. But then, I remembered what Candy had said early er about trying to get home and a guilty stone formed in my stomach. 

“Why don't…I take you home. This is that compulsion thing, right?”

Candy deflated slightly and looked both relieved and disappointed. “Oh, thank you. Don't get me wrong, I am up for it, but…I’ve had five guys today already. A woman would be a nice change of pace, but I’d also like to eat dinner.” 

I couldn’t help but laugh, poor Candy, my deal was seeming better by the minute. She wrapped her arms around mine, and we walked out together. Apparently, she only lived a few blocks away. I watched as she eyed off the men we passed; if her sexual appetite really was as insatiable as it seemed, it was a wonder she even made it to meetings. 

“It must be fun, having so much sex though. Some guys would say you’re living the dream.” I said, and Candy rolled her eyes. 

“It’s good, don't get me wrong, but ugh, it’s exhausting. But I am making the best of it, you know?” She smiled, then her eyes lowered, “I…said some pretty awful stuff once. To an exotic dancer, called her names, said her life was so easy just because she was born with big tits and no brains…I deserve what I got. But I’m not going to be miserable about it!”

I hadn’t really considered the exhaustion angle, or how frustrating it would be not being able to help myself. That heat under my skin was still there, swirling around, even now that I was trying not to think about it. Was that how Candy felt all the time? We came to a small townhouse, and Candy flicked her keys. 

“This is me. Thanks for stopping me from jumping any other guys.” She giggled. “See you next week?”

“I guess!”

I didn't have much choice now that Daisy was living with me; I didn't really think that through. 

“Oh, and don't forget what I said.” Candy winked, “A little self love might help you loosen up!”

My cheeks flushed, and I felt the blush spreading under my clothes as well until my nipples turned hard. I always thought it was unfair that, as a guy, you couldn’t hide your arousal physically; turns out women were just better at it. How was I supposed to think straight with those tiny, sensitive nubs rubbing against the inside of my bra the entire way home? Not to mention the wetness between my legs, every step pressed the folds together, making them tingle. It was like my body was designed to tease me! By the time I got back to my apartment, I was a hot mess and conflicted as hell about it. 

“Oh my, are you alright?” Daisy asked as I walked in. “You’re all red in the face.”

“It’s hot out.” I lied. 

“Oh dear, well, why don’t I finish fixing dinner, and you can eat, that’ll make you feel better.” 

I blinked and looked up to see my kitchen in full swing, pots, pans, and the fridge was stuffed full of food I definitely hadn’t bought. The idea of Daisy cooking dinner would have excited me more, but my pussy was absolutely burning with need. 

“I might…have a shower to cool off.”

“Okay, but don’t take too long, dinner will be ready in ten minutes!”

I half ran to the bathroom and stripped off my clothes, shivering as my hot skin met the cold air. Candy’s words were still echoing in my head, and I shook them away. I needed to cool down, not…indulge. 

I stepped into the cold shower, the icy water hitting my skin like a thousand tiny needles. I let out a sharp breath as the chill enveloped me, my nipples hardening instantly, but the cold did little to dampen the fire between my legs. If anything, it intensified, a throbbing ache that demanded attention.

My hands trembled slightly as I reached up to adjust the showerhead, the water cascading over my shoulders, down my back, and over my breasts. I closed my eyes, letting the cold wash over me, but my mind was anything but calm. I bit my lip, my breath quickening as I tried to focus on the cold, on anything but the heat pooling between my thighs. I couldn’t put my finger on why it felt so wrong to enjoy this body, but it did, and resistance was proving futile. 

But it was no use. My hand slipped down, almost of its own accord, my fingers brushing against the damp hair between my legs. I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. I was already drenched, my body betraying me even as I tried to resist. My lips parted in a silent moan as I pressed a little firmer, my middle finger sliding through my folds, collecting the slickness that had gathered there. I gripped the wall with my other hand, my knuckles turning white as I fought the urge to just give in. But the tension had built for too long, and curiosity was burning almost as hot as my arousal. 

I began to move my finger slowly, teasing myself. My breath hitched as I added another finger, sinking deeper into my warmth. I bit my lip, my head tilting back slightly as I let out a soft moan. The cold water turned scalding as I twisted the dial, and steam filled the room. Candy was right, the pleasure was so different, softer, yet stronger at the same time. I needed more.

Light bounced off the showerhead, and I swallowed, suddenly that pulse setting I’d never understood made perfect sense. I reached out and removed it and quickly fiddled with the dial. I switched it to pulse mode, the rhythmic jets of water started to spray against the side of the bath.

 I pressed it against my clit, the water hitting me in quick, intense bursts. My body trembled, my legs threatening to give out as the sensations overwhelmed me. I cried out, my voice hoarse and desperate as I pressed the showerhead harder against my folds. 

The water mixed with my juices, and I moaned. I was beyond caring about whether or not this was ‘right’. All that mattered was the release, the ecstasy that was building to a breaking point. The orgasm tore through me faster than I was expecting. I cried out, my voice echoing in the small space as my body shook.

When it finally subsided, I collapsed against the tiles, my legs barely able to hold me up. I was breathless, spent, every muscle in my body feeling like jelly. The showerhead slipped from my grasp and clattered against the bathroom floor. I closed my eyes, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. A moment later, there was a timid knock at the door, and Daisy’s nervous, slightly embarrassed voice floated through.

“Um…dinner is ready!”