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Akiko stood pressed against the wooden shutters, feeling the cold wood against her back and trying to calm the tremor in her fingers as they clutched the edge of her bright red kimono. The fabric had slipped slightly lower, revealing her heavy yet already familiar breasts, and every second of waiting made her painfully aware of her weakness and helplessness in trying to resist her fate.
Though inside she still hoped, even as that hope melted away each day like a dying candle flickering in the wind. A month ago, her name had been Lawrence. Cocky, reckless, proud of his height and strength — gifts from nature for which he had done nothing. He had come to Japan with his friends, not for Japan itself, but once again to show them how brave, crazy, and bold a leader he was. Lawrence had always loved when people looked up at him, and that was exactly why, that night, he stepped onto the railing of the bridge despite the sign reading “No swimming”, smirked, shouted something obscene, and dove down, slicing through the air.
But instead of his friends’ laughter and the icy water that should have knocked the breath out of him, he was met with silence. He surfaced, gasping for air — and everything around him was different: the glow of oil lamps, wooden houses, the scent of incense and damp reeds. On the shore, a woman was shouting in a language that was somehow familiar yet completely foreign.
— Akiko! Are you all right?! Stupid girl! You think death is the best answer?!
‘Is she talking to me?’ flashed through his mind as Lawrence swam toward the shore in the dark, thinking the things brushing his shoulders were weeds — not realizing they were his own long hair, something he understood only after dragging himself out of the water. A cool summer breeze met him, and he instantly knew his body was completely naked. Lawrence got on all fours, breathing heavily. Water ran down his body, but every movement felt strange and unfamiliar: his breasts swayed, pulling down with weight; his hips and ass felt way too soft; and between his legs there was nothing — nothing — just an emptiness that was far too real.
He instinctively covered himself with his hands, yet still felt the wind glide over his round curves — the chill touched his nipples, which hardened and pressed against his wrists along with the softness of his tits.
— Akiko… — the woman from the shore rushed toward him, throwing a thin blanket over him. — Foolish girl, you could have drowned!
— Akiko!? Who the hell is Akiko?! — burst out of him, but the voice was too high, almost floral, with a hint of jasmine, and the words came out in that same foreign tongue. He spun around sharply. No sign of modern life anywhere: only oil lanterns, dark wooden huts, the smell of fish and damp earth. No cars, no neon lights, not even a trace of electricity...Full story (8 500 characters - 3 parts) is open to subscribers here or on Patreon