Story

She pulled my long, jet-black hair together and put it up on my head in a style I wasn’t familiar with. She’d carefully applied the white makeup to my face so that even with the hair pulled taut, there was no hint of my skin’s real tone beneath the white. The eyes, lips, and cheekbones were also made up, the lips a dark red, the cheekbones a bright pink, and the eyes lined in the darkest of blacks, accenting their slanted tilt. The kimono was silk, colorful and tight. The wooden shoes and tabi-socks were all that could be seen other than my head and my hands with their long, red nails. She looked me up and down to see if she could find any flaws in my appearance. There were none. I was a perfect geisha. Except of course for the fact that beneath the make-up and costume I was not a girl, I was not Japanese and other than the crash course in being a geisha that Achiko had given me over the past few days, I knew nothing of the specifics of this particular role. But in the three years that Achiko had been my caretaker, advisor and tutor, I’d learned a lot about the Japanese culture. Not exactly what a fourteen year old boy was supposed to be learning. Then again, most 14 year old boys don’t live alone with their mothers in one half of a duplex where a pair of Japanese students occupy the other half. Achiko and her roommate were here in California attending the university. My mother rented the other half of the duplex her own parents had left to her to students, to help supplement her income. She reduced the rent for Achiko in return for her “watching” me when I was old enough to not need a sitter, but still too young and irresponsible to be left without any supervision. In the days since the arrangement had begun, Achiko had taught me much. My grades had improved, as she’d also taught me of the importance of self-discipline. My Japanese was not quite yet fluent, but on those occasions where Achiko took me to Little Tokyo, I managed to communicate without reverting to my native tongue of English. Now, for Halloween, we were all dressing up for school. I had no costume and had griped about this to Achiko a few days earlier. She’d come up with this idea immediately, and would not take no for an answer. She insisted on perfection in everything she did, from her schoolwork, to how she maintained her house, and in something silly like a Halloween costume for me. That was how I’d gone from teen boy to geisha girl in a few hours. That, and the right outfit and a wig she’d fastened to my own hair with what seemed like a million pins. No matter how hard I’d shaken my head, the wig didn’t budge an inch from its secure grip on my scalp. * * * * * I sat in my room, relaxing. I was no longer wearing the kimono, or the lingerie that Achiko had insisted I wear beneath it. Instead I was clad in jeans and a t-shirt, but I didn’t know until glancing into the mirror that Achiko hadn’t taken off my make-up, but had merely replaced it with some of her own. Her foundation added an olive tint to my skin’s tone, and I really looked like a Japanese girl with all of what she’d done to my face. “It’s just for a little while, Tommy. I’ll take it off soon and unpin your wig. But you have to admit, you are a cute little nihonjin, aren’t you?” “Yes. Now that I’ve admitted it, please take it off.” She did. If she’d asked me at the time, I would have lied and said I never wanted to do that again. If she’d asked and I had answered honestly, I’d have been forced to admit that I loved looking like a Japanese girl. Achiko was 5’5”, slightly taller than the normal Japanese woman. On the other hand, I was the same height, shorter than average for a boy of my age. Worse yet, based on my mother’s short stature, and what I’d been told about my father, the reality was I’d probably reached my maximum height at the age of 14 and would grow no taller. I was still thin as a rail, and while my clothes fit a bit loosely on Achiko, I could wear hers, although they were a bit tight. I’d only done it once, to repay her for borrowing my favorite sweatshirt without permission. She’d come home to find me wearing her favorite jeans and one of her sweatshirts, and rather than scolding me, she’d told me then to help myself to anything in her closet, including skirts, dresses and high heels. I knew enough about poker to know that she had called my bluff with a raise and I never went there again. Now I was feeling the desire to wear her clothes and to look like her. It was a desire that would remain unfulfilled throughout my teen years, even though Achiko remained the next-door tenant until I left for my own college experience. * * * * * I’d maintained my multi-linguistic ability (I’d learned Spanish in high school and improved on that while in college) and while it hadn’t been a factor in my ability to get jobs after graduating, it was a good skill to have. Then my job was eliminated in a round of layoffs and after a protracted search, I answered an ad from a firm that was looking for someone who was bi-lingual in English and Japanese. The parent company was based in and operated solely in Japan, but the firm that was hiring was based here in the U.S. Japanese executives from the parent firm were shuttled in and out of one-year assignments in management with the U.S. operation, and key personnel were hired who were bi-lingual to enhance and ensure good communication with these managers. I went to work for this firm and made it a point to try to advance and do well, as I never again wanted to spend months and months out of work and looking for something. I now lived alone in the half of the duplex my mother had left to me, and I’d kept up the tradition of renting to female Japanese college students whenever possible. Many of my tenants came to me from referrals. The two current residents were sisters born one year apart. Ayano was the older girl, who was the quieter of the two, kept to herself and I didn’t interact much with her. Rina, her younger sister was the exact opposite. Outgoing, talkative and always coming over to visit or borrow something. She looked a lot like Achiko had at that age and she reminded me of her. She’d also managed to find the photograph of me as a geisha in one of my mother’s old photo albums and she would tease me on occasion that I should try being a geisha again to relax from the stress of my work. I always did my best to ignore such suggestions, although there was a part of me that really wanted to take her up on the offer. A year passed with my new employer and they were pleased with my progress. I was promoted to lead in my office and as part of that promotion, I was required to journey to Japan for meetings at the home office about future strategy. As much of the Japanese culture I’d absorbed during my life, I’d never thought about visiting Japan. Now I’d be there for two weeks, on the company’s dime. This was going to be a good thing and I looked forward to the trip. I made arrangements for Ayano and Rina to keep an eye on the house while I was gone. * * * * * A driver met me at the gate at the airport in Japan and soon I was in a limousine, being motored to the headquarters of my firm’s owners. It was a big building, in a compound outside the city. The driver had informed me I would be staying at a hotel in the city and he would be taking my bags to the hotel and arranging everything after dropping me off. “Someone else will bring you to the hotel later” he said, admonishing me not to be concerned. I walked in the door and in the reception area an elegantly dressed woman was standing there, waiting for me. Immediately I realized from what Achiko had taught me about Japanese business that this was the OL, the Office-Lady, and she would be taking me to meet with whomever I was there to meet with. She introduced herself as Kaeda, and offered me a chance to have tea, or rest before meeting with the executives. I declined her offers of tea and rest and insisted on going to the meeting immediately. I did so in Japanese, which surprised her. “I was not aware you were so fluent in our language” she remarked. “Your pronunciation and accent are like that of a native speaker. May I inquire as to how this is possible?” “You certainly may. When I was growing up, my mother rented out the other half of the house we lived in to Japanese students who were in town to attend the university. One of them who lived in that half of our house for a number of years tutored me in Japanese language and culture. In fact, I am hoping to have a moment to visit with her while I am here, during my time off.” “If you will give me her name and contact information, I would be pleased to arrange it so that you may visit with her on one of the days you will not be in meetings or in training.” I reached into my briefcase and pulled out the card that Achiko had sent me and Kaeda smiled at me as she scanned the card. I took advantage of that momentary distraction on her part to give her the once over. She wore a dark skirted suit, with the skirt falling to her nylon-covered knees. The jacket was single-breasted, unbuttoned and beneath the jacket there was a silk blouse in white. She had on pumps with medium heels, enough makeup to give her a made-up appearance, but without overdoing it, and her long hair hung to the middle of her back. Small pearl earrings adorned her lobes and she was wearing just a nice ladies watch, and one ring on her right hand. I felt myself growing excited at the thought of wearing that particular outfit, and wondered where these feelings were coming from. My obsession with Japanese girls from childhood had never left me and in fact, now that I was here in Japan, it was stronger than ever. I would have to control this desire and not let anyone find out the thoughts in my brain, or my future with this firm was very dismal. This kind of perverse thought could not be voiced or shared. Not without permanently damaging my career and reputation. * * * * * The first two days were unending. The meetings were long, the training intense and the dinners and drinking that followed each day tested my stamina and my ability to hold my alcohol. On the second night, after more than a few cups of warm sake, I was persuaded to stand up and belt out my best karaoke version of a Michael Jackson song. I was unaware that one of the executives with me was recording my effort with his smart-phone, but I found out about this the next morning at a break, as Kaeda served me coffee, at my request. I was trying to shake the cobwebs from my head in addition to ensuring I stayed awake through what was sure to be another marathon of a day. The only good news was that today was Friday and in deference to me, meetings and training was suspended for the weekend, honoring my culture. This was not the norm and had come as a surprise, but it was a welcome one. As Kaeda freshened my cup of java, she asked “how is it that you can sing like a girl?” “What do you mean?” “I saw video of you singing at the karaoke lounge last night, and you were singing with a girl’s voice. Was that a girl’s song?” “No. The singer who sang it was actually a man, but he sang in a high voice. It’s something we call ‘falsetto’ in English. That means that the singer doesn’t use their real voice, but a false one, to reach notes they can’t otherwise reach.” “I see. So you weren’t trying to sound like a girl, but like the man who originally sang the song?” “Yes. Why?” “Some wondered why you were trying to sing like a girl.” “Please explain to them what happened.” “I cannot. It is not my place to correct them. I am only the office lady. They are managers, my place is to serve their needs.” “In this case may I suggest that you would be serving their needs in informing them that they are mistaken in their assumptions about another employee?” She brightened at the suggestion. “That is most wise. Something a more experienced office lady might have thought of herself. I will follow your wise suggestion, Smith-san.” I thought back to what Achiko had told me before venturing my next suggestion. “Kaeda, it would honor me greatly if you would call me Tommy, and not Smith-san, at least when we are alone and no one else is around.” “I cannot. It would not be proper.” “It would be proper if we are all alone and no one else can hear. When we are alone, I wish for us to be equals.” “I will honor your request, but only when we are alone and no one else might possibly hear. I am honored by your request, Tommy. Oh, I almost forgot, I have reached your friend Achiko. There are words in English about something called a coincidence?” “Yes. Why do you ask?” “Only because it turns out that your friend works just down the street, at another large building and that she too is an office lady.” “She is? That’s surprising?” “Why is that surprising?” “She has a Master’s Degree in Business Administration from a highly regarded business school. I thought she be in some executive position.” “I suspect she found, as I did, that even advanced degrees do not guarantee access for women to the, how do you say, corridors of power, here in Japan. I am hopeful that in a few more years, I will be able to finally leave being an office lady and move into a position normally held by a man. But I must serve as I am able now, particularly while I am younger and more attractive. Only older women, with the right credentials and who no longer possess the beautiful appearance have much chance of moving upwards in companies like this.” “That’s sad.” “Since we are speaking as equals for the moment I will agree with you. Sometimes I wish I could go to America, where I might be judged more for my mind and less for my ability to look nice and pour tea.” * * * * * There was no dinner or drinking that night, probably in deference to the fact it was now what was considered my “weekend”. My limo took me to my hotel where a surprise was waiting in the lobby. Achiko, still clad in her own office lady uniform was sitting on a sofa with a view of the door and she spotted me entering. I saw her get up and as she did, she smiled. I expected a hug, but instead she stopped short of where I had stopped, and instead bowed like Kaeda did when we first me. “It is good to see you, Smith-san.” “Stop it Achiko, I’m still Tommy. Smith-san is my mother. Now give me a hug.” “Not here, Smith-san. Please show respect and return my bow, as I have taught you.” “Why so formal, Achiko?” “Someone from my firm is here somewhere and while I am dressed like this I still represent my firm. If we go to your room, I will give you your hug.” So we went to the elevator and once safely inside my room, with the door firmly locked, she gave me a hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Oh, you’ve grown into such a handsome man.” “And you’re still the most gorgeous woman on Earth, Achiko. Even in that outfit.” “Well, I would have dressed up as a geisha for you, but I didn’t want you to be jealous.” “Jealous?” “Yes, Tommy. Time for a truth between us. I know that you used to wear my clothing when I lived in the other half of your mother’s duplex. Don’t be embarrassed, many Japanese men like to dress as women. It is not frowned upon here like it is in your country.” “It’s been my deep dark secret, all my life.” “It wasn’t so secret once you let me dress you as a geisha. I could feel the blood rushing through your veins as your heart beat so much faster once you saw yourself. I already suspected, but that just confirmed it for me. So, why are you here?” I launched into an explanation of how I’d found my present job, gotten promoted and how her having taught me the language was a big help in my current success. We talked for hours and ordered room service for dinner. Finally, it was late and she said “I must go. I cannot spend the night in a man’s room in a hotel. Especially a gaijin man.” “I’ll always be a gaijin man.” “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” “What does that mean?” “You will find out tomorrow morning.” * * * * * Achiko had always loved the traditional American breakfast of pancakes, eggs, ham and hash browns and she took me out for such a breakfast the following morning. It was so nice to be wearing just jeans and a shirt, while she wore a simple dress and flats. After we ate, we rode in her car to a big office compound similar to where I’d been in meetings earlier that week. “This is where I work, Tommy. I want to show you something very secret. You must promise to reveal what you’re going to see to no one. Promise?” I nodded. “Of course. I’d never break your confidence. What is it you want to show me?” “A different perspective on life. A chance to spend a few hours as you’ve only dreamed. Come with me.” There was security everywhere, but Achiko’s pass got us beyond all guards and security check points. The elevator took us down several floors below the ground floor lobby. “We have our most secret laboratories located below ground for security purposes. It is easier to shield them from surveillance by our competitors. This way.” She led me down a long corridor to its end, and passed her badge through a security lock which unlatched but did not open the door. She then looked into a retinal scanner, and only after it had verified her identity through a biometric scan of her eye did the door finally open. From the size and noise made by the moving door, it was clear this was a door that would not be opened unless the person trying to get in had the proper pass and biometric identity. “In this lab lies the answer to one of the mysteries of life. Please don’t ask me to explain it. One of the scientists who is also a company leader finds me attractive and I’ve been his companion from time to time. In return, he has given me access to this, his greatest discovery. It’s a DNA re-sequencer.” “What the heck is a DNA re-sequencer and what does it do?” “It allows a person’s DNA to be re-written. He has unlocked the secrets of the human body. With this DNA re-sequencer, a person can be taller, shorter, thinner, heavier, male, female, Caucasian, Asian and so on. With this machine, I intend to make you into a Japanese woman so you can walk next to me on the street as just another Asian lady.” “You had too much to drink last night.” “No, I didn’t. Now, strip and lie on this table here. The machine has to scan you to record your own DNA so we can change you back afterwards. It isn’t like I haven’t seen you naked before, Tommy, so don’t hesitate.” The table had restraints for all four limbs. The restraints were a thin strip of a clear material that was soft but very strong. Once I was tied down, there was no way I would be getting up. I felt warm lights scanning me all over for several minutes, then nothingness overwhelmed me. * * * * * “Wake up. Slowly. Your body has been through a difficult transition over the last hour. Sit up slowly and sip this water to re-hydrate.” I took the cup and sipped, then nearly gagged as I looked at the slender, olive-skinned arm that was holding the cup. As I reached out with my other hand to touch what looked so foreign, long, jet black hair cascaded in front of my face. I automatically set the cup down and reached up, pulling my long hair back with an almost instinctive feel. “Wait. Why did I just do that?” “Relax. My boyfriend has programmed into his machine the ability to implant certain behaviors into someone whose DNA is being re-sequenced. It was an experiment but it worked beyond his wildest expectations. I gave you a few female behaviors, to help you with body language and movement while we are enjoying our afternoon. But I’m sure your new body feels very naked, and you’d love to get dressed. I have a special outfit for you.” The special outfit was identical to the ‘uniform’ she’d been wearing as an office lady the previous evening. Dark skirt, dark jacket, silk blouse, panties, bra, pantyhose and a pair of black patent pumps. She did my make-up as she had not had time to imprint me with that skill, and then before I could object, she handed me an ID badge with a picture of the new me on it. “You are now Miki Okuda, an office lady who works here. The real Miki worked for my boyfriend and is no longer employed here. But her identity is not in use, her employment file is still active, and her DNA was available to use to re-sequence you, Tommy. Or should I say Miki.” “But I look like a real woman.” “Dear Miki, you are indeed a very real woman. Inside those tight panties you are wearing is what you used to childishly refer to as a pussy, and inside of you are real lady parts, including ovaries and a uterus. If a man were to make sex with you, you could become pregnant. But fear not. Pregnancy would not prevent you from being re-sequenced back to normal. So if you find a man you encounter today to be so desirable that you wish to make love to him, you can with complete safety.” “I have no desire to sleep with a man.” “Perhaps you should reconsider that statement after we walk by one of those handsome security guards on our way out of here, Miki. Your memories of your old life may not find men attractive, but the new mind in your female body finds them very attractive. A little mischief I felt might heighten your experiences as a girl today.” A few minutes later, as we walked past a security check point, I felt exactly what she was referring to wash over me. The guard was tall, handsome, and his manly odor smelled so good to me I nearly swooned. He asked Achiko where the man who had accompanied her earlier was and Achiko said something I didn’t understand. It wasn’t English and it wasn’t Japanese. The guard grinned and then nodded to me and Achiko, waving us beyond the security gate. * * * * * We were walking down a street a few minutes later, having parked Achiko’s car in a parking garage. The sound of my shoes followed me as we walked and it should have been unnerving. But I guess that Achiko had done something to make me feel more at home with the sounds and sensations of being a woman. We stopped to look in one store’s window and as I stared at the Japanese girl staring back at me, I tried to focus on how it felt to wear these clothes. The bra’s straps were tight against my chest and back, and my very thin arms felt the silk of the blouse rubbing against the lining of the jacket. For a moment I felt the metal of my earrings reaching through my ears, but that sensation disappeared as quickly as it had shown up. I managed to explore the feelings of nylon against my smooth legs for a few seconds but again, the feeling vanished. “Achiko, did you do something to make me feel at home in these clothes and in this body?” “Yes, Miki. I didn’t want a Caucasian boy to feel strange in his new home inside the body of an Asian girl. You should feel right at home. Oh. I almost forgot something.” She reached into her purse and pulled out two small hairclips which she fastened into my long hair. “There, that’s better. Now tell me, what is your name? Your real name.” “My name is Miki Okuda. I mean my real name is Miki Okuda. Wait, why can’t I say what my real name is?” “Because those little clips are like the equipment I used to add a few patterns to your mind. These are removable, so I can allow you to keep access to some information, but remove it when I desire. You are currently incapable of saying what your real name is, or what your true gender is.” “That’s crazy Achiko. We both know that I’m really a woman in spite of what your machine has done. Wait, I’m a…oh my, I can’t say it, can I?” “Nope. Just a little precaution. Now, let’s go shopping.” * * * * * We had spent the day and the night together, sleeping at Achiko’s apartment. The sofa folded out into a spare bed and that is where I slept, clad only in a sheer nightie that barely covered my flat crotch. I slept well, and my dreams were of things we’d done that day. Trying on clothes. Eating in a traditional restaurant, with me sitting like a Japanese on a mat. Playing pachinko. In the morning Achiko and I went back to the laboratory. The same guard smirked at me as we walked past. Once in the lab, Achiko had me sit down in a chair. “Have you had fun being Miki?” “Very much. It has been strange, and wonderful. Like a dream come true.” “Would you like to continue for awhile longer? You can, but it will require you to do something a bit different, and it will mean a full week of being an office lady.” “There’s no way I could be an office lady for a week. I have meetings and training to attend tomorrow and for the following days.” “Yes, Miki, that is very true. But, there is a way where you can attend your training next week, and still experience life as an office lady. And, better still, have all of the skills and knowledge so that your time as one of us goes as smoothly as that skirt you’ve been wearing slides over your legs.” “How is that possible, Achiko?” “Simple. I will become you and you will become me. We will spend the next week apart. I will be Tommy, training and attending meetings and going out at night with the men. You will be Achiko, pouring tea and looking pretty all week. Then, next weekend, we will return to normal, retaining the knowledge we learned in the days that have just passed. You will have all of your new training and remember all of your meetings, and you can also retain the knowledge of how to be the perfect office lady, in case you ever want to do it again.” Somewhere deep within me, I knew the moment that she suggested this exchange that it was a very bad idea and I shouldn’t do it. Not only should I not do it, but I should insist on being returned to my own body, with whatever ‘programming’ had been done to my mind being undone and that I should never return to this lab. But as quickly as that thought jumped into my mind, it disappeared and I found myself wanting to follow Achiko’s suggestion. In fact, I needed very much to do as she was asking. “I can be you, for a whole week?” “Yes. You will be the girl of your dreams for five full work days and then most of next weekend. Then Sunday, before your flight home, we will put you back to normal and you can fly home, with all of your new training tucked away in your brain. Both what your employer wants you to learn, and what you want so badly to learn. How it feels to be an Asian woman in an Asian workplace. You will know what it is like to be a second class citizen. You will love it, even though I do not. Now, let us make the preparations.” * * * * * The “preparations” involved Achiko making a scan of her body to use on me, and then she was re-sequenced into an exact duplicate of my body. What I didn’t realize or understand at the time was that this was done in such a way as to give her access to every password to everything in my life. To give her access to all confidential company material I had access to, access which had grown since I’d been promoted. I thought nothing about this as I marveled at my new appearance. I WAS Achiko, the girl I’d wanted to be for so many years as a teen. Her smile was my smile. Her figure was my figure and I kept putting my hand on my hips to highlight my tiny new waist. Her hair was mine now and I tossed it back and forth, and ran my fingers through it over and over. I got up and sat down over and over, crossing and uncrossing my legs. A couple of times I squeezed, feeling the pressure in my flat crotch. I’d been able to cross my legs as a man, but my ‘equipment’ had always been an obstruction and I was always having to ‘adjust’ as I did this. Now there was no obstruction. I was wearing yet another outfit that Achiko had furnished for me. This one didn’t involve a skirt or dress. I was wearing my first pair of skinny jeans ever, a belly t-shirt that showed off my very flat tummy and cute belly button. I had a pair of sky-high wedge shoes on my feet with ankle and toe straps, and I didn’t seem to wobble an iota in them. I had on her earrings, and she made me promise to wear this pair the entire time. I agreed without thinking, although perhaps I should have wondered why later. * * * * * The later when I should have wondered about why I had to wear these specific earrings came when I was finally alone in Achiko’s, now my, apartment. It was a typically small Japanese home, a single with a sofa that folded out into a comfortable bed. But the small space was incredibly organized, with what seemed like tons of clothes, shoes and accessories, including an amazing collection of earrings. Some of them, especially a pair of hoops that were so big they’d brush against my shoulders; I wanted very much to try on. But I’d promised to keep this pair in the whole time, and I was going to keep that promise. I fixed dinner later in the tiny kitchen, a light meal that would not have filled me up had I been in my own body. I picked at it, eating it slowly and soon my tiny new stomach was filled. I’d also had a big glass of water and two cups of tea with dinner and I felt the pressure on my much smaller bladder almost immediately after finishing. I quickly went to the small bathroom, struggled to pull down my skinny jeans and then after gently tugging my panties down, sat down to pee. It felt natural, not strange and I wondered about this for a moment before realizing that all of Achiko’s memories that were now contained in my mind included a lifetime of peeing this way. That was probably why wiping afterward with a tissue was second nature. Soon I was unfolding the sofa, clad only in panties and a short nightie and going to sleep, to sleep as an Asian woman for the first night of my life. The only question I should have been pondering was just how many nights would I sleep this way. I dreamt that night. I dreamt dreams of my life as Achiko. Dreams of having been a college student in the U.S. and wondering what it would have been like to be one of those pretty, popular sorority girls I saw on campus. There were sororities for Asians, but I couldn’t join one as I had no time. My work caring for Tommy along with my studies took all my time in college. I dreamt of the nights I’d spent with the scientist who had invented the DNA re-sequencer. Of how he’d held me in his strong arms, and how we’d gotten into his bed together. I woke up from that dream to find my hand had somehow found its way into my panties and was beginning to stimulate my most tender skin. I stopped, the flow of the dream having been interrupted. I tried again, putting my fingers back into my undies for a second, but the moment had passed. I got up and washed my hands before going back to sleep, this time a dreamless sleep. * * * * * When I awoke it was a work day. I showered, washing and drying my long hair before getting into my work uniform. I dressed almost on autopilot, sliding on my hose, skirt and bra as though I’d been wearing them my entire life. I guess, in my mind’s eye, I had. Soon I was totally ready, and I headed out for the long subway ride to the office, my work ID in my purse and the lunch I’d packed before bed in my other bag. I looked right at home on the train with all the others heading to work and found a seat easily. The ride to work was short and uneventful and soon I was at the main gate, using my ID to get into the complex. I was in my little cubicle before I knew it and was soon pouring tea for my primary supervisor after greeting him politely with a bow. My day was spent serving tea to managers, at meetings and in their private offices. I also spent a great deal of time copying documents, preparing copies of agenda and reports to be passed out at meetings, and preparing my primary supervisor’s expense report from the previous week. I ate my lunch in the break room with four other Office Ladies that I knew well and we gossiped throughout lunch. Mostly about celebrities and the like, there was very little work gossip because we all knew that if we were discovered talking about our bosses, we might well be disciplined. Not wanting that, we stayed away from those topics. I felt right at home and deep down, in my secret heart, for just one moment there was an incredible thrill. I was living the life of Achiko! But when I tried to feel that thrill a second time I could not. It had disappeared and try as I might, I could not find it again. My self-identity as Achiko was becoming more firmly entrenched, although I wasn’t yet aware of that fact. * * * * * After work I went home, prepared and ate a light dinner and then sat there, wondering what to do. I decided to watch television for a while, but that got boring. So I surfed the web for a bit. Eventually even that got boring, so I decided to go for a walk. I’d already taken off my work clothes and had been wearing a robe and slippers around the apartment, so I had to dress in order to go for a walk. I found a pair of skinny jeans that were clean, and a sweater. It was a bit chilly out, so no belly shirt, or other attire that wouldn’t keep me warm, and might expose any sensitive skin. The sweater was high-necked and long-sleeved, and while not all that heavy, it was enough to keep me from getting a chill. It was dark, and there were some streets that were well-lit and others that were not. The first time I headed down a block that wasn’t as well-lit as the others, I found myself getting a little nervous and looking around at my surroundings much more than I ever had before. The presence of Achiko in my life had led me to study martial arts as a teen, but those lessons weren’t available to me at this moment and I felt very unsafe and vulnerable. I was no longer a strong man, even one who was short of stature and a potential victim to a much larger man. I was now a woman, a petite Asian woman, and my vulnerability was obvious to everyone, including me. I hurried my pace and quickly found my way back to my apartment. After a shower I felt much better, particularly after re-verifying that I’d locked all three of the locks on the sturdy front door that protected me while I was within the confines of my small but comfortable apartment. I fixed a cup of tea and found it very relaxing. After watching a little more television, I decided to go to bed. * * * * * The next morning at work was the same, although I did find myself admiring my appearance a bit more than the day before. There was a full length mirror in the dressing room, and in the ladies room and I stopped in both at least twice in the morning. Unlike the day before, I’d brought my company ‘uniform’ with me to the office that day and had put it on in the dressing room, along with the other Office Ladies. I owned several of them, and intended to leave this one in my locker to wear the next day, taking the one that had been worn several times the prior week home with me. I would stop on the way home from the train at the dry cleaners and leave it to be cleaned. I knew there was one there waiting to be picked up. Lunch was also different that day. I had packed my lunch, and had been about to leave to share it with the other Office Ladies when my phone rang. It was Senzo, the scientist-executive who had invented the DNA re-sequencing machine. He was entertaining someone and he wanted me to join him, a few other executives and their guest in the executive dining room, to pour tea while they dined on a catered lunch. Part of me wanted to question why the Office Lady who normally served him couldn’t do it, but that only entered my mind for an instant, whisked away by the fact that it would be a serious breach of etiquette for me to ask such a question of one who was my superior. So rather than heading for the break room to eat and relax for a bit, I headed upstairs to the executive dining room. Senzo, three other excutives and a gaijin businessman from the U.S. were there, seated around a table meant for much larger gatherings. The kitchen staff had taken the food from its delivery containers and put it onto plates, but after slipping an apron on over my suit, I delivered the plates to the four of them. Fortunately, all four were eating the same thing, so I wasn’t forced to ask the indelicate question of who had ordered which meal. I served them their food, poured tea, and then after they’d finished the meal, began fetching and pouring sake that the kitchen staff had warmed. It was nearly four in the afternoon, long past my own lunch break time when the meeting finally broke up. The gaijin was quite drunk, and Senzo ordered me to escort him back to his hotel in a company car. “Make him happy” he whispered into my ear as I rushed to catch up to the man who was being led at that moment by another of the executives. I dared not ask what that meant, but quickly bowed my assent and hurried to catch them as they boarded the elevator. The company car was a limousine and I sat in the back, across from the American, who introduced himself as “Jeff, from Los Angeles.” He was tall, dark-haired and clearly had not had much experience with drinking sake. He sat up for a moment and reached out to caress my knee. I got nervous and excited all at once. A big, strong man was caressing my body and a part of me wanted nothing more than to respond to his touch and experience the ecstasy that he might be capable of creating for me. Had my own memories been working for me at that moment, I would probably have been upset, since in my heart I was really a heterosexual male, but that part of me had now become completely silenced by and subservient to the heart, mind and soul of the Asian woman who ruled my mind. Not just my mind, since my body was an exact match to that mind and its mindset. He restrained himself from touching me again until we were up in his room. Senzo had said to escort him and that meant not just taking him to the hotel or into the lobby. I tried to leave, once we were inside the room, but he firmly took me in his arms and began to kiss me. I responded to the kiss, feeling his flesh respond to mine as he grew firm within his trousers. We moved to the bed and he sat down at the edge, and we continued to kiss for a minute. Then, I slid gracefully to my knees and began to unzip his trousers, to free the monster within that waited for me. I started to ease his flesh through the boxer shorts beneath his suit trousers, but as I did, he slid into unconsciousness, falling backward on the bed. I took a deep breath and reflected. I’d come within literal inches of performing a sex act on a man I’d met only hours earlier, and not only was I not disgusted, part of me was disappointed that he was no longer able to perform. I thought about trying to awaken him, but realized that was probably not possible. So, despite the excitement between my own legs, I got up, brushed myself off and returned to the waiting limousine. Senzo was waiting for me back at the office when I returned, preventing me from finally eating that long-awaited lunch. “So, Achiko, did you take good care of my friend?” “I ensured he was returned safely to his hotel room, Senzo-san, but regretfully, he fell asleep only moment after we arrived there. I ensured he was fully on the bed and then I left.” “So, nothing else happened?” “No, Senzo-san, aside from a kiss or two. I was ready to serve, but he passed out before I was able to grant him pleasure.” “Very good, Achiko. Very good. I am pleased. To reward you for your readiness to serve me and him, I will favor you with my presence this evening. You will dine with me and stay at my apartment in the city.” “You will not return home to the countryside, to your wife and children tonight, Senzo-san?” “No, Achiko. Tonight I am yours.” * * * * * I can’t tell you exactly what happened that night, because I am relating this tale to you after the fact, and my memories of that evening were intentionally left blurry by one of the people who had access to, and altered my mind during my journey to Japan. I know that we made love, but the details of that coupling are empty in my mind. I know that I prepared and served a meal that we shared, but I couldn’t tell you what we ate. The only detail that is clear is that at some point, he took me home and I spent the last few hours of the night in my own bed, in my own apartment. I never got up and went to work the next morning. One minute I was sleeping in my own bed, and the next I was being carried, firmly wrapped inside some kind of cloth from which I could see nothing. I felt a needle pierce my skin and then nothingness washed over me. When I did finally awaken, I was lying on a table, held firmly in restraints. I was naked, and felt exposed to the world. The part of the table beneath my back and head raised silently and I soon saw Kaeda and a Japanese man I didn’t recognize. He was in an expensive suit, covered partly by a lab coat. There was another table behind them like the one I was laid out on, and as Kaeda moved aside, I could see that Tommy was there, trussed as I was. The man spoke first. “I see you are finally awake. To answer your unasked questions, I am Yoshida Akio, and I am in charge of security for your employer, Mr. Smith. Or perhaps, since you are who and what you are at the moment, I should refer to you as Achiko. We learned of your friend’s misappropriation of your body and her attempt to conduct industrial espionage through means I will not disclose to you. Suffice it to say that she was caught and your own stupidity and ineptitude enabled her efforts. So you are at least partly to blame for her penetration of our security.” “Let me explain…” “Explain what, Miss Achiko? Explain that you’ve always had a fascination with what it would be like to be a pretty Japanese girl? I already know that. Explain that she used technology her firm has to enable you to become that which you could have only dreamed of before? I know that as well. What you and she don’t know is that we already had this technology. And now she, and you, will see a demonstration of it, and how much further along the lines we have advanced. I will tell you both now what my plans for you are, since once they are implemented, you will not remember this conversation.” “Please, Akio-san, please don’t. I am sorry. I just want to go home.” “And so you shall, Achiko. But not to Smith’s home in the U.S. The real Achiko will be going there, to labor for us exactly as we wanted. She will be controlled by the methods she had used to control you, and she will serve us well.” “You’re going to leave me like this?” “No. Kaeda-san will become the new Achiko, and will take advantage of her new relationship with Senzo and others at her company to feed us their secrets, while we feed them disinformation through the real Achiko in her new form as Smith.” “Then where does that leave me?” “As my new Office Lady, Kaeda. You wanted to find out what life is like as an Asian girl, now you will live out your life as one. Goodnight, Kaeda.” * * * * * And perhaps I might have remained Kaeda forever, except that one fateful night, Akio decided to use the DNA re-sequencing equipment to sleep with women other than his wife and his mistress the Office Lady Kaeda. And perhaps because he gave in foolishly to my entreaties as a large-breasted, blonde woman that he had to experience the magic of big boobs and multiple-orgasms at least once in his life. That’s when I was able to turn the tables on him, and ultimately recover my memories from him. The moment I did, I contacted Senzo and then the tables really turned, on everyone, quickly and quietly. Perhaps if Akio had informed others about his intelligence operation, we might have been caught, but thanks to his mania for secrecy, we rolled up everything and soon a new round of re-sequencing was done. The real Kaeda is now living in the U.S., working as Tommy Smith, and feeding information on her employer to Senzo. The real Akio is doing the same, although he is employed as an office lady named Kaeda, working for the new Akio. The real Achiko is currently living and working as Akio, and he says he is enjoying it immensely. As for me, I’ve become Achiko again, and I’ve managed to move into a position as a very junior level executive. I no longer have office lady responsibilities, but I am still very much living the life of an Asian woman and loving it. Akio asks me formally, once a year, if I wish to go back to being a man. And each year, I refuse, formally. I’m much too enthralled with my life to go back. And while I’ll never really know for certain if that choice was mine, or one imposed by Senzo when he altered me into my present form, it really doesn’t matter. Enthralled is enthralled after all. THE END