SpiralledEye
patreon
Adapted Anonymous [Man to Asian Beauty TG] - Prologue
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 21:29:30 +0000 UTCThis month's Exclusive story ended up being a lot longer than I expected, so it shall be coming as a new Friday Fortnightly story. That way, I can give it the attention it needs and not rush. The first few chapters are already finished, and I didn't want to flub the ending. For now, enjoy this prologue, and the first chapter will be up Friday!
~
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.
Prologue - Before
Tuesdays were the worst. Not because anything dramatic ever happened, but because nothing happened. Tuesday was the day when most normal people were at work, so the customers in the shop slowed to a trickle, and the few that did come in were usually in a hurry. I leaned against the counter and sighed, not caring if I looked unprofessional with my cheek in my hand, staring out across the sales floor that hadn’t changed in the ten years I’d been here, just like me.
I was thirty-five, still painfully single, and working behind the counter at TechStop Electronics, where ambition went to collect dust alongside last year’s tablets. The store had that faint, permanent smell of plastic wrap that seemed to have permeated my skin over the past decade.
I used to dream about producing music, maybe travelling the world with a camera. Instead, I spent my days trying to convince strangers that yes, they absolutely needed a screen protector that cost more than the phone case. Spending the long, dull hours daydreaming. My greatest accomplishment in the last few years was being salesman of the month exactly twice. Still, in this economy, I couldn’t complain; having a stable job that paid just enough to cover bills, food, and rent was something at least.
The doors opened, and I felt my back straighten as a woman walked in. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Bright eyes, sharp outfit, and the kind of confident energy that made me instantly forget how to stand like a normal person. She smiled when she approached the help desk, which went a long way, most people didn’t bother with that these days. So I did my best to smile back.
She was here for a phone, just a phone, but in my head, it was the moment the romantic comedy started. Or at least the part where I said something witty and she laughed too long. Or at least, that’s how it started playing out in my mind; in reality, not so much.
“Looking for the latest model?” I asked, trying to sound casual. My voice cracked like I was thirteen again.
“Not necessarily, just need something reliable. My old one finally died.”
The words went in one ear and out the other. I grabbed one of the newer boxes from the shelf and started rambling, sure my tech expertise would impress her.
“This one has, uh, an ultra-wide camera, facial recognition, a battery that lasts, like, three days straight... and some AI assistant that speaks all the languages. I think.”
“Oh, I am not sure I need so many bells and whistles…”
“Of course you do, uh, wait, this model does so much, let me check.”
I flipped the box over to find the exact specs, only to find it all in squiggly Chinese lettering.
“One moment!”
“No, it’s alright, I really just need a simple model-”
I didn’t hear the last part as I ducked through the aisle, scanning them until I found her. Linh, one of my coworkers, was scrolling through her phone while pretending to check stock prices.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Can you help me translate this?”
She glanced at the box and raised an eyebrow. “Michael, how many times do I need to tell you? I’m Vietnamese.”
“...You’re point?”
“So I don’t speak or read Chinese.”
“They're close, right? Can’t you make a guess?”
“Firstly, no, they’re not, and secondly, I’m a third-generation American. I don’t even speak Vietnamese. Let alone Chinese.”
I stared at her. “So... that’s a no.”
Linh rolled her eyes, and I backed off. Okay, that was a dead end, but maybe I could find some other way to impress the woman, whose name I just realised I forgot to ask.
I walked back toward the floor, and of course, she was already at another register, talking to Dave. Dave, with his fake tan and perfect teeth and the voice that always sounded like he was about to introduce a Top 40 countdown. She laughed at something he said, nodded, paid, and left without so much as a glance in my direction.
I watched the door swing shut behind her and let out a quiet, pathetic huff. Just another Tuesday.
~
I’d been turned down more times than I could count, but something about that woman stung more than most. Maybe it was the fact that I’d been rejected before I’d even worked my way up to flirting. Pathetic, they say you miss all the shots you don't take, but I’d somehow managed to miss without even loading the gun.
So I did what all sad, lonely single guys did. I went to the nearest bar and became part of the furniture. Before I knew it, I was already three pints deep and halfway into a whiskey chaser. The alcohol burned a hole in my gut. And I looked around the room. I was the youngest guy in here, and the reason was obvious; this was a classic dive bar. The sort of place where washed-up people went to forget their miserable lives for a while. A sense of indignation started to build, and I gripped my glass.
All around me were sad men in their forties who’d given up on life. Was that my future? No, I refused. Goddammit if that pretty woman didn't want me, I’d find another who would. If I couldn’t have money or success, I at least deserved a girl. I downed the rest of my drink and strode across the street, exchanging my dive bar for the popular craft beer place with twice as many people inside.
I vowed to myself then and there that I was getting laid tonight. I deserved the win. I scanned the crowd for single women and spotted one by the bar. She looked a bit like Lihn, but with better breeding: sharp cheekbones, straight black hair, dark eyes. A ten out of ten; the sort of woman I’d never even dream of flirting with, but after my drinks, I was invincible. Or stupid. On reflection, mostly stupid.
I quickly looked up a Vietnamese greeting on my phone before I slid onto the stool next to her.
“Xin chào,” I said, grinning like I’d just dropped the slickest line in history. “Bet you don’t meet many guys who know how to say hi in Vietnamese.”
She blinked at me slowly. “I’m Thai.”
I paused, confusion wobbling through the haze. “Yeah, but... I mean, come on. Same thing, right? Asian is Asian.”
She stared at me. There was a long, tight silence. One of those moments where the bar noise dims just enough for you to realise how badly you’ve messed up. Before I could try to backpedal, her expression turned from surprised to disgusted.
Then the drink hit me.
She didn’t say another word. Just got up and walked away, heels clacking like a judgment. I sat there, soaked in vodka soda and apathy, wishing I could rewind the whole damn day and start over. I decided to throw in the towel for the night and headed home.
But then, as I walked past the alley between two apartment buildings, something strange happened. I felt a tingling in my chest, like an electric current running under my skin. At first, I thought it was just the chill of the air mixed with my wet shirt, but the sensation started to get stronger. The tingling didn’t fade. It spread deep into my arms, my legs, my face. A strange kind of warmth bloomed at the base of my neck, and my heartbeat began to ring in my ears.
I tried to ignore it and kept walking, but then something even stranger happened. My shirt, which had always fit comfortably, suddenly felt tight around my chest. I looked down and froze. My eyes didn’t want to believe what they were seeing. My chest was swelling. I could feel it now, the soft press of flesh against the wet shirt. My nipples poked through, half visible through the wet fabric as it was stretched thin.
I stumbled, taking a step back, and nearly tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. I felt suddenly unsteady on my feet, and the fact that my shoes were loose didn't help. My hands shook as I reached up, feeling my face. High cheekbones, a smooth, round face, thick lashes. The bones under my skin seemed to shift. My jawline, once square and familiar, began to soften.
“What the hell is happening?” I muttered to myself, barely recognising my own voice. It sounded… different, higher, like it didn’t belong to me.
My skin felt different, smoother, and my hair… It was growing longer. Dark strands that had once stopped at the nape of my neck now reached down to my shoulders. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream, cry, or just run. Not that it would matter; none of them would help.
I looked down again, my pants were tight across my widening hips, and baggy at my ankles. I lifted a foot and stepped out of my shoe, revealing a delicate foot with dark olive skin. My heart pounded louder in my chest. I tried to steady myself, but my breath caught. This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be happening.
I held out my hands and stared; they were slimmer now, the fingers longer and more delicate, and that same dark olive colour. I took a shaky step forward, then another. My steps felt unfamiliar, too light, like my centre of gravity had shifted. My hips swayed with each step, and I felt a blush spreading over my entire body, including my now plump ass.
The tingling was subsiding now, but the changes hadn’t stopped. I could feel them, deep inside. It felt like my insides were vibrating, changing and shifting beneath my skin. Then, all at once, there was a strange tug between my legs, and an absence that knocked the air from my lungs. Then, mercifully, the tingling stopped, and I was left standing on the street, half bent over, trying to make sense of what just happened.
I glanced at the dark shopfront I was leaning against and saw my reflection in the glass. A beautiful, dark-haired Asian woman with eyes wide with shock stared back at me. Her clothes didn't fit well, but it was obvious that she had a gorgeous figure. Her heavy breasts hung low off her chest, and she was bent over double.
And she was me.
I’d heard the stories, of course, magic was rare these days, but it still happened. The occasional witch here, a magic item there. I’d even heard stories of people being transformed, but I never, in a million years, thought it would happen to me! Especially not randomly!
“Hey, sweetheart!”
A hand slapped my ass, and my back snapped straight as two men walked past, laughing. One looked back over his shoulder and grinned at me.
“Oh, don't look so surprised! If you show off your butt bending over like that, you’re asking for it!”
I could only blink in shock and watch them walk away, mouth hanging open. I’d walked home this way plenty of times before, but all of a sudden, the world felt hostile, and I hugged my arms over my chest, groaning in annoyance when I felt my new breasts get in the way.
Just another Tuesday.
