Adapted Anonymous [Man to Asian Beauty TG] - Part 1

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.

Part 1

“What do you mean there isn't anything you can do?!”

I sat in the doctor's office, still reeling from last night. After I’d transformed, I’d run straight home and spent the night panicking, and when the panic wore off, I’d fallen into an exhausted sleep and woken up with sore hips where they’d dug into the mattress. Now I was sitting in nothing but a hospital gown after a full examination that confirmed yes, I was a woman, inside and out, and that it was permanent.

“Magical transformations like this,” The doctor sighed, “there are no medical cures. Now, do you know what could have caused it? Interact with a mysterious object? Did you offend a witch?”

“What does it matter what the ‘catalyst’ is, if it doesn't help you change me back?”

“The only thing that can really undo magic this intense is, well, magic.” The doctor shrugged, “Of course, you could get gender reconstructive surgery, but that’s a long road, and it won’t change your race, obviously. According to your genealogy test, you’re Japanese! How wonderful.”

“What does it matter?” I rolled my eyes, “I can stand being Asian, but I don’t want to stay a woman! Put me on the list for surgery.”

“Sorry, you’re not eligible. There is every possibility the magic would undo it again.”

The last thing I wanted was to fork out thousands for a surgery that could be magically undone. 

“If this is a curse, perhaps it can be undone by learning a lesson. I’ve seen a few cases like that.”

“...Learning a lesson?”

“Yes! I had one young man who was cursed to live as his witch wife for a year after he took advantage. He only changed back once he fully realised just how hard her life was because of him.”

“I didn’t offend my wife, I don't even have one,” I pouted bitterly. 

“Either way, I would recommend you get used to this body; in all likelihood, it’s permanent.”

“So I just have to…live as a woman, for the rest of my life?!”
This was so unfair, just when I thought my luck couldn't get any worse, this happened. The doctor opened his drawer and thumbed through some papers before pulling out a leaflet and handing it over. 

“I recommend this group; this sort of thing is more common than you might think.” He smiled.

I looked down at the flyer in my hands and grimaced.

“Adapted Anonymous?”

“A support group for people like you, who have been transformed. They also have services that can help you update your name, personal documents, that sort of thing.” 

I took the documents numbly and swallowed a lump threatening to form in my throat. Changing documents, getting new identification…that all made this feel far too real. If I did all that, it would mean accepting that I’d never change back. I stuffed the papers into my bag and fully intended to forget about them. But their presence lingered. 

Even a few days later, I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. Everything was so strange now; I couldn't even take a shower without keeping my eyes glued to the wall. If I looked down at my new curves, through the steam and wet, I was immediately hit with a wave of guilt, like I was some sort of weird peeping Tom. The words on those flyers kept popping into my brain: dysmorphia, help adjusting. 

“Maybe one meeting couldn’t hurt.”

~

I hesitated outside the beige community centre door, my palm sweating around the handle. Even now, a week later,  I still hadn’t gotten used to the soft pitch of my voice or the lightness in my step. I had no idea where to put my arms, so I crossed them tightly over my chest, even that felt wrong though, considering the bust there. 

'Adapted Anonymous, Thursdays, 6 PM', the sign said. Right under 'Bingo for Seniors'.

What even was my life right now, that this was how I was spending a free afternoon? 

“Hey there, honey. First time?” 

The voice made me jump. I hadn't even noticed the plump, dark skinned woman approaching until she was right next to me. 

“Beatrice.” She smiled, “You’ve got that look about you, let me guess, you were a man recently.”

“Uh, yeah.” I felt my cheeks burn, “Is it that obvious?”

“I saw you walk up the street. No normal woman tries to resist the natural sway of her hips quite that much.” She giggled. “Come, let’s go in together.”

Beatrice threaded her arm through mine and led me inside before I could answer. It looked just like I imagined. A circle of metal folding chairs had already been half-filled. Some heads turned. 

"We have a new member joining us tonight," Beatrice said, "This is...?"

"Uh, Michael?" I replied, feeling awkward. "I'm...still thinking about a new name."

Beatrice gave me a nod of approval. "It's not something you want to rush."

"Oh, look at the poor dear, she's so nervous." A young blonde said as she approached. She was slender and gorgeous, at least ten years my junior, but dressed like a grandmother. "Don't worry, nobody here bites."

"Unless you count meeeee." Drawled a woman with fiery red hair. She was the blonde's polar opposite, fashion-wise. In fact, she looked like she was barely dressed at all in nothing but a pair of booty shorts and a bra. She leaned back over the chair, forcing her massive tits forward as her back arched. "But I don't bite women, sorry, honey. Maybe try Terry."

“Hey!” A muscular-looking man shouted across the circle. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a cheater, you slut?!"

A woman next to him, brown hair up in a lazy ponytail, elbowed him. “He only bites when I tell him to.”

“Which is always,” Terry muttered.

“Don’t mind those two,” Beatrice whispered. “They’re Terry and Sherri. They are stuck in each other's bodies until they learn how to be a proper, loving couple."

"Which for them means it's permanent." The red-haired woman snickered. "I'm Candy Kane, by the way."

I couldn't help it, I snorted.

"Candy Kane? Seriously. 

"I didn't pick it!" She pouted, "I can't help it, I am just...made this way."

“All of you hush, this is supposed to be a safe space, and you’re making our new member uncomfortable.” Beatrice chided, “Now, let’s do some introductions.”

She led me over to a chair that I sank into gratefully. All of a sudden, my knees felt weak. This room was full of freaks; totally weirdos. I didn't belong here, did I? 

“I’ll start,” Beatrice smiled warmly, “I’m Beatrice, I was once a white man until five years ago I was transformed into this.”

She then nodded to the married couple who jammed a thumb at each other.”

“I’m Terry. I used to be her.”

“I’m Sherri. I used to be him. Till our marriage counsellor did this and swapped us.”

“It was your fault,” Terry muttered, and Sherri glared at him before the young blonde cleared her throat.

“I’m Daisy.” She said sweetly. “I was born in 1950 and I wanted to understand young people better and well…”

She giggled, and I felt my jaw drop. That girl over there was almost seventy-five years old?! 

“And I, as you already know, am Candy Kane.” The redhead sighed dramatically, “Former ladies' man, now cursed to be painfully attracted to every guy I meet.”

They all turned expectantly to me, and I stiffened.

“I’m Michael, and uh, I don’t really know why I’m like this?” 

“You don’t know?” Daisy blinked? “You didn’t make a poorly worded wish? Or something like that?”

“No wishes, nothing like that.”

“Must be a  witch.” Terry nodded. “I bet you offended one and don’t even realise it. Men.”

Sherri elbowed him. 

“You are a man, idiot.” 

“Only on the outside.”

“Ugh, the sooner you accept this is the new normal, the sooner things can feel less weird!”

“I keep telling you I don’t want this to be the new normal, you never listen!” Terry cried, crossing one leg over the other and pouting, which looked especially odd given how bulky he was. 

“I’ll listen to you any time.” Candy sighed dreamily, leaning half off her chair to moon over Terry, only for Sherri to curse.

“Hands off, slut!”

“Now, Serri,” Beatrice chided softly, “You know Candy can’t help but flirt with every man she sees. It’s not her fault.”

“She could flirt with somebody who isn’t my wife. I mean husband, dammit!”

“See, you’re too jealous.” Terry said, “Stubborn, jealous, angry, all in the name of being macho.”

“I have a set of double D’s, Terry, how ‘Macho can I be!?”

The rest of the meeting went about as smoothly. Mostly, people complained, usually loudly, about how rough it was, except for Daisy, who didn’t seem capable of raising her voice, and Beatrice, who desperately tried to keep everybody calm. She was the only one who seemed at peace with this scenario, and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. 

When it came to my turn to share, my mouth went dry, and I muttered something about struggling to find clothes without much detail. How could I talk about the things that were really bothering me? The way my hips swayed, the way I could feel my ass squash every time I sat down? The odd temptation to slip a finger between my folds and find out how different a female orgasm really was? No, no way. Beatrice handed me a giant folder full of paperwork to help me change my driver's license and other documents that I barely glanced at. I didn’t want to look at it yet; that would mean accepting that I was stuck like this. 

I was glad when the meeting was over and quickly headed for the door, rather than partaking in the stale-looking biscuits and coffee on the fold-out table with the rest of them. If anything, this meeting had only made me feel worse. 

“First meeting is always the worst.” I spun around at the voice to see Daisy standing there with a soft smile. “Terry and Sherri terrified me my first time here.” 

“They’re…a piece of work,” I said tactfully, and she giggled. 

“They’re a nasty pair of narcissists who’d rather chew their own feet off than compromise.” Daisy deadpanned, then laughed. “I may be in the body of a twenty-year-old, but I still have all the tact of an old lady who ran out of…darns to give several years ago.”

I stifled a snicker at her trying not to swear. It helped that I couldn’t help but burn with jealousy a little.

“Seems like you won the jackpot. You get a second youth, and you didn’t even change gender.”

“When I made the wish, I just wanted to relate, not suddenly crave bubble tea and boys who play guitar poorly.” Daisy sighed, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

Most people would kill to have her change. I’d trade with her in a heartbeat, provided I got to be male again, of course. A second later, her phone began to ring, but it took Daisy a second to realise that’s what it was. She fumbled, struggling to get the device out of her pocket before answering it. 

“Hello?” She blinked innocently, then replied to whatever the person on the line was saying. “Oh no, that’s awful, um, yes, I can get some gift cards…”

“Oh my God, seriously?” 

I grabbed the phone and huffed; it was a foreign number, of course, then hung up.

“Why did you do that?”

“It was a scam call, Daisy. Let me guess, they said you needed to pay a bill with gift cards.”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“Wow…you really are an old lady.”

“It's so unfair!” She pouted, “I wanted to understand that magic mirror could have at least given me that as well as the body! That way I wouldn’t be such a fish out of water…”

“A mirror cursed you?”

“Yes, I was helping clean out a room at my nursing home. Lottie passed away, and I was handling some of her things, trying my best to talk to the nice young carer who was there and failing miserably.” 

She sighed.

“Then, before I knew it, I was twenty again, except still as out of time as I have been for the past decade of my life. All my friends are old or dead, I don’t know anybody my own ‘age’, and I am living in a nursing home getting very odd looks from visitors.”

She sniffed, and I felt guilt twist in my gut. I guess I hadn’t thought about all the logistics of de-aging that much. Having a second shot at life is a lot harder when the world you grew up in the first time was long gone. During the meeting, she mostly just complained about not understanding how to use her smartphone or what QR codes are. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for the way I’d judged her. 

“Give the meetings a chance.” She said, reaching out to hold my hand in both of hers. “They helped me a lot.”

“I just don’t know if they’re for me…”

She looked at me with her sad, brown eyes, and I felt my heart start to crack. It was like kicking a puppy. 

“...but maybe one more.” 

Daisy smiled widely. “Wonderful! I will see you next week then! I am so looking forward to having somebody else to get to know. Now I’d better dash if I am going to get the bus!”

I was tempted to tell her she could just look up the schedule online and never have to rush again, but thought better of it. 

~

I’d taken a few days off, but the problem with having a shitty retail job was that…well, it was shit. I only had so many sick days, and taking unpaid time off wasn't exactly an option, not in this economy. Still, it felt wrong putting on my work pants and polo. The fabric hung off me; even tucking it into my pants didn't help. 

I walked in, and instantly, I felt Lihn’s eyes on me. Instead of cold detachment, though, she looked at me with warmth and smiled. Butterflies danced in my stomach. Lihn hadn't smiled at me in years. 

“Hey, are you a new hire?” She asked. “I’m Lihn.”

For a second, I was tempted to go along with it, just to keep her smiling like that. But then I imagined her disgust when the truth came out, and I thought better of it. 

“No, Lihn, it’s me. Michael.”

Her face twisted up in disgust, and I sighed.

“Yeah, that’s about the reaction I expected.”

“Did Michael put you up to this?” Lihn asked, narrowing her eyes at me. 

“No. I am Michael. No, I don't know how it happened. No, I don’t like it. But unfortunately, I still need money, so here I am.”

Lihn looked me up and down and shrugged. 

“Maybe this will give you some perspective.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The fact that you don’t know means you desperately need it.”

She walked away without another word, and I groaned; where was that nice smile from before? I already missed it. Even with the ridiculously detailed doctor's note, my boss didn't believe me at first. A call from the hospital later, though, my file was in order, and I had a clean new uniform sitting in front of me. Putting it on felt weird, but also…really nice. I’d never paid much attention to the fit of my clothes before; I’d been the same size since late high school, more or less. This uniform was the first thing I’d put on since the change that actually fit my new curves. 

“The first clothes I feel comfortable in, and it's my work uniform…that’s just sad.” 

I’d been working here the better part of ten years and yet, I’d never felt more out of place in my entire life. For the first time in years, standing behind the counter, I could feel the sharp edge of their doubt hanging in the air.

After all the weirdness of the change and the support group, I was actually looking forward to falling back into the dull routine. I could do this job in my sleep after all, but that didn't happen. A middle-aged man who wandered in looking for a new smartphone; a boring day job. I led him through the options, explaining the different models and camera specs. I could tell he was listening, but something about the way he looked at me made me feel like I was under a microscope.

“So… you’re sure this is the right choice?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

I nodded.

He blinked, then leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to reveal some great secret. “You sure? I mean, you’re, uh… new to this, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I just have an eye for this sort of thing.” He smiled, giving me a patronising look. “Could I maybe confirm with one of your colleagues?”

I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation, watching him take the phone up to the new kid, who was still in training, to confirm what I’d told him. The day didn't get any better either. All of a sudden, it was like nobody trusted my word. A second opinion was always needed. By the end of my shift, I was exhausted, not physically, but mentally, emotionally drained. It felt like I was drowning in the small things: the way people hesitated to listen, the way they questioned my competence with a glance instead of a word. I wanted to rip this skin off and scream that I knew what I was doing, that my knowledge hadn’t changed just because my body had. I was still the same guy I had been last week, but nobody could see it. 

“Hey,” Lihn grinned at me, shoving a box into my face. “You’re Japanese, you can read this, right?”

“Come off it, Lihn.” I groaned, “You know I don’t, just because I look Japanese doesn’t mean I actually am…hey, how did you know I was Japanese anyway?”

She raised an eyebrow and gave a huff of laughter. “Because you look it.”

I turned to the display cabinet showing both our reflections, ready to prove that there was no way she could tell the difference. We were both Asian after all. But then I looked and I saw…differences. They were subtle: the shape of our eyes, the tone of her skin, the roundness of her face compared to mine. And yet, all those small changes added up to something different.

I blinked in surprise, but when I looked back, Lihn was gone, replaced with a little old woman who was looking around for help and ignoring me. I sighed, forced a smile on my face and walked up to her, ready for another uphill battle.