You have been backpacking around Japan for a long while and experienced nearly everything you have wanted to see in the country. You are not a fan of anime or other pop culture, but rather the traditional culture of Japan and Asia in general. Tomorrow you are going to fly out to begin your journey across China.

There is one thing you haven’t seen much of, though, and that is the art of the kimono. You are particularly interested in the beautiful and colorful patterns usually provided for women. So, even though you cannot wear them, you find yourself stopping to have a look inside an old looking Kimono shop you happened across when exploring the side streets of Kyoto. It’s a little off the beaten path, but it looks interesting. The outside looks old and shabby, and you get a distinct feeling of wear and tear when you enter inside.

The shop is surprisingly big and filled with various types of kimonos hanging from the walls and displayed on mannequins. The shop is seemingly empty, except for an old woman standing behind the counter, reading a book. She doesn’t even look up when you enter.

“Konnichiwa!” You greet her in your Rosetta Stone Japanese, it’s not perfect, but you know enough of the language to get around.

“Konnichiwa..” She responds with a slight nod of her head. You are not sure how to express yourself well in this context and rely on a translator app on your phone to communicate.

“I was hoping to buy a kimono for my sister back in America. Do you ship abroad?” You ask her through your phone. You don’t have a sister but want a woman’s kimono and think it’s embarrassing enough to make an excuse.

“Not usually.” She replies by speaking into your phone and waiting for translation. “We don’t get a lot of foreign business, you see. But maybe we can arrange something in any case. How about you look around? We can make any pattern you see to order. If you like something, we can even make it in your size.” She says with a knowing smile. The old wan speaks in a kind voice, and she makes you think of a lovely old grandma.

You walk down the rows of garments, looking at the various patterns on display. They are all so beautiful and vibrant, with many different colors and patterns. It would be so hard to pick just one.

“What time do you close?” You ask, declining to use your translator and instead switching back to your own basic Japanese. But no one replies; the woman seems to have wandered off somewhere.

“Excuse me.” You call out to no one in particular in Japanese. “Excuse me!”

No one responds, You look around and try to find her, but she has disappeared completely. Finally, you decide to continue looking around by yourself. She must just be around a corner somewhere. You continue walking through the rows of kimonos, admiring them all as you pass them. Sometimes you put out your hand to feel the silky material for yourself.

“Come in here!” She calls out in Japanese. You see a small doorway between two mannequins. Curious, you walk through the opening and find yourself standing inside a smallish room which is seemingly empty. The old woman is in the corner.

“Take a look over there!” She instructs and points at the centre of the room. There are two small pieces of wood on the floor. You move closer to investigate.

“Oh, you sell geta too?” You ask interested, as you see that the two small pieces of wood are, in fact, a pair of high-quality looking geta. They look as if they are mahogany, which produces a beautiful deep red colored wood through the varnish. The geta’s straps are a vibrant pink floral pattern and are likely silk.

“Oh, just a few pairs here and there!” She replies. “But take an honest look at them. You might be surprised with these! The old woman steps out from her hidey-hole corner and stands beside you as she watches you inspect them more closely. They are a small size. If you were to guess, you would say a women’s size two or three? They are much too small for your men’s size thirteen feet. They are probably much too small for your imaginary sister too. There is something incredibly alluring about this pair of geta, though. You almost feel like they are inviting you to try them.

You turn to the old lady, and she smiles at you, a broad smile that causes her eyes to become small slits for a moment. “Why don’t you try them on?” The woman asks as she observes you.

“They are too small!” You reply, half laughing. It would be ridiculous for you to try on such a small pair of geta. You stare at the geta again, the feeling of invitation getting stronger and stronger.

“Just try, okay. No harm in trying!” The old lady urges as she looks at you expectantly. You feel that feeling of invitation grows and grows. The geta are hypnotising you. Finally, after a few more moments, you give in.

Feeling ridiculous about what you are about to do. You shyly pull your socks off and tug your shoes off next. You feel the cool wooden floor of the shop against your bare feet. Next, you begin slipping each of your large man-feet into the geta. Your feet are enormous compared to the sandals. You can barely get your toes through the strap, and seemingly half your foot hangs over the end. It feels uncomfortable as the edge of the wood digs into your soles. Finally, you turn your gaze and meet the old lady’s eyes; she is grinning wide.

“See, they don’t f…” Your sentence cuts off as you feel a sudden intense pinching sensation on your left foot. It feels as if someone is crushing your foot in a vice. Your vision whips down to the offending foot, and you see something extraordinary. The geta fits that foot perfectly, not because it had gotten bigger but because your foot had become smaller. Now much smaller than your right foot, your left foot looked positively tiny. It now fits the geta perfectly. You feel the pinching sensation again, only on your right foot. This time you are ready to see what is happening. Your right foot shrinks before your eyes until it becomes tiny enough to fit into the other geta comfortably.

“What the fuck!” You scream in shock. You try to kick the geta off, but they seem stuck to your feet. The old woman laughs.

“See, they fit perfectly!” The old woman says as she takes hold of her chest in mock surprise expression while still smiling widely at you with laughter shining brightly through her dark brown eyes. She seems to transform herself, becoming, in an instant, an old hag of a woman.

You shake violently from head to toe in fear and shock at what just happened to your body! Then you yell, surprised, in English. “How did this happen?!”

“I don’t understand that foreign tongue, boy!” She replies in a deep Japanese voice, kindness evaporating from her voice. Her transformation into an old hag completed.

“Fly in a spider’s web!” she says, not caring too much if you could understand her. “You are mine, boy!” She yells as she runs with surprisingly speed out through the doorway. You want to follow, but the geta don’t allow you to; they seem to stick to the ground as much as your tiny feet stick to them. In fact, your whole body is frozen in place.

She returns as fast as she left, holding a kimono and obi. It is the same quality as all the others in the store, but the pattern is much simpler and duller. “This is an employee’s kimono!” She barks, “And you are going to wear it!” You see the madness in her dark brown eyes.

“Open your arms wide!” She screams at you. You are not so sure you ever learnt so much Japanese, yet can still understand her. Your arms shoot outwards like you will give a big hug to somebody. “You can keep your clothes on underneath. We just need to worry about the kimono right now. We will deal with the nagajuban and underwear later.” She slips your arms through the kimono and wraps the kimono around you. She then ties the obi strap around your belly with almost no effort. As effortless as it looked, it is an incredibly tight fit. Even if something weren’t stopping you from moving, being bound up by this damn thing would prevent you from moving an inch.

“Aaaahhhh! So tight!” You complain loudly.

The hag giggles sinisterly and tugs on one side of the obi with surprising strength, causing it to tighten further across your stomach, squeezing every inch of flesh between its tightly woven fabric into submission. The woman then does the other side, making it even tighter and more painful than before. You feel like you are going to break in half. You look down and see the kimono’s material looking like it will burst. You pray for relief before you suffocate.

You get relief finally when a pinching sensation, much like you feel in your feet when first wearing the geta, spreads across all of your body. It was not actual pain or discomfort from anything external; it feels like it was coming from deep inside yourself. You look down at the straining kimono as it suddenly begins to loosen. The belly that the obi pulls so tightly around seems to flatten and shrink inwards; the shoulders that the kimono stretches over soften and weaken. The distance between the bottom of the kimono and the ground reduces as your whole body loses height.

“It will fit perfectly soon!” Cries the lady. “In more ways than one!” The changes to your body seem to pick up the pace. Every part of you seems to be shrinking rapidly. First, your legs shrink to become slender and toned, alongside your tiny feet in the geta becoming equally slender, the skin on your legs and feet becoming smooth and perfect, like white jade. Likewise, your hands also change shape after a few seconds, growing smaller, thinner, and matching your feet in size.

Your shoulders had already become small, but your arms came to match them by becoming super-slim. Their femininity increases as they become rounded due to a lack of muscle fibers and increased fat tissue. The flat shape of your kimono changes again as your waist pushes inwards until you can see a pleasing hourglass shape noticeable through the delicate fabric. The kimono then pushes out at your chest as you begin to develop a pair of firm breasts underneath its silky material. Nothing too big, but it is noticeable. While all of this was happening, your hips grew wider, and you lost height until the kimono almost touched the ground. You feel a tightening at your back as your ass pushes into the silk.

Your face is next, not that you could see it. You feel the pinching sensation over every inch of your head. You feel pinching on your cheeks, around your eyes, on your lips, at your nose. You could only imagine the transformation occurring on your face. You did not need to imagine your hair, however, as jet black hair enters your vision as your hair grows downwards rapidly.

Lastly, you feel an incredible sensation around your crotch. It is hard to describe, but it starts as if there was something heavy crushing down on your sex, and then it transitions into an orgasmic feeling unlike anything else you have ever known. You couldn’t even begin to describe the surface of your cock and balls pulling inwards or the lips of your new vagina opening to reveal a growing cervix and womb. You will never feel anything quite like it again as your new vagina settles into place. As does your sexual horizons settle into womanhood. You feel wet for the first time in your life and feel a need to be filled.

The old hag admires her work. “You turned out beautiful, although a little too short, my dear”, said the woman excitedly as if taking pleasure in what she has done to you, “However, I think this will do nicely for my store”, she smiles wickedly revealing long tobacco-stained teeth.

“What did you…” You pause for a moment hearing your new feminine voice. “What did you do to me!?” You ask angrily. You can barely process what has happened, but anger seems the best option.

“Take a look!” The old hag says while pushing you out of the small room. As before, you can’t resist her, so you follow where she leads, your tiny feet and legs feeling awkward in the geta. She leads you to the store mirror, and you examine yourself.

The first thing that strikes you is how small you are. You can’t be more than 5 feet tall. However, your body has an excellent shape and is well proportioned compared to your height. Your face is young and very Japanese looking, with small almond-shaped eyes, long lashes and smooth skin that looks soft and delicate. Your skin has a distinct yellow tone, and with you being Asian, No one could mistake you for anything else.

Your hair is black and long, falling down each side of your face and reaching your collar bone. Your eyebrows are trimmed neatly into a stylish arch above those shiny dark eyes, which have long thin eyelashes that make them stand out more than usual. You cannot help but think of yourself as beautiful. Yet, as you stare at your new face, you feel a fog enter your mind. The confusion starts to seep into your thinking. Nothing seems to make sense anymore. How could you possibly look like that? How can you believe what you are seeing?

“Change me back! Change me back right now!” You scream at the woman in your new voice.

“No way, my dear.” Says the hag, cackling as she speaks.

“You have to change me…” You pause for a moment. “You always spoke English? So you could always understand me?”

“I don’t understand English, and you are speaking Japanese.” She says this, smirking. “Your native language is so perfectly replaced that you didn’t even notice.”

You think about this for a second. You think about the last few minutes are realise that you have indeed been speaking and hearing Japanese. You force yourself to switch back to English.

“How…” You struggle to find the right words; you trip over the awkward sounds. “I affected by this how?” You say in accented and grammatically incorrect English.

“Good, try to keep your English!” Replied the woman.

“Of course!” You say indignantly. “It’s my language.”

The women ignored this part. She didn’t understand you. She was just responding to you using English. “You are a suitable employee for my store,” The hag said matter-of-factly. “Short, yes, but you make up for it in youth and beauty. However, I need someone who can speak English fluently, so I chose a foreigner to transform.”

“I no work for you!” You shout but realise she probably doesn’t understand. “I will never work for you, hag!” You cry in Japanese this time to get the point across.

“You will. It’s the only way to save yourself.”

“What… What do you mean?” You reply, terrified, wondering how it could get any worse.

“The magic will strip you of your English and identity.” The hag explains. “I will stop this process if you work for me.”

“That’s evil.” You say you can’t dispute what she says based on what just happened to your body. This fact terrifies you.

“Right now, I am the only thing allowing you to retain your identity.” She continues. “This is because you are useful. I need an employee who speaks good English to improve my international customer base.”

“So you will force me to work for you, like a slave?” You ask, trying to hide the terror.

“If you are lucky.” She answers. “But so far, every foreigner I have transformed has forgotten English and become useless to me. So I had to let them let go of themselves.”

“That can’t be true!” But, you reply, can someone forget their language?

“So, let’s test if you are suitable to work for me. I need you to keep speaking English for me for a while. Just say a simple affirming statement and do your best to hold on to it. We will see what you retain after a few minutes.”

“This isn’t fair!” You protest.

 “Begin!” She shouts, ignoring you. You don’t do anything for a few moments, so she points her old decrepit finger at you. “I will erase who you are right now unless you start. “5… 4… 3… 2..”

“Wait!” You scream in English. I speak English perfectly; I am from the West. I love Japan, but I don’t want to be Japanese.” You scream frantically.

“Again!” She screams.

“I speak eigo perfect! I west am from! I daisuki Japan, but I don’t want be Japan person!” You repeat.

“Again!” She screams even louder.

“Watashi kanzen ni speak eigo. Watashi west kara kimashita but watashi wa nihonjin ni naritakunai!” You feel the English slipping away from you.

“One last chance!” She says with a cackle. She enjoys your torment, even if she isn’t going to get the employee she wants.

“Watashi wa kanzen ni eigo o hanashimasu. Watashi wa nishi kara kimashita. Watashi wa Nihon ga daisukidesuga, nihonjin ni naritaku arimasen!” You shout, realising that none of what you said was English. The hag’s hand begins to glow.

“NO! IIE! IIE! PLEASE… PURESU… SHINAIDE KUDASAI” You scream frantically before seeing a white flash emanating from her hand.

***

You don’t know where you are, and you don’t know who you are. But, then, you hear a voice; it sounds like an older woman’s voice.

“Where are you from?” asks the voice. You think for a second before an answer comes to you.

“I’m from Kyoto”, you reply.

“Are you a man or a woman?” asks the voice again. What a stupid question, you think to yourself.

“A woman, of course”, you reply.

“What is your name?” says the voice.

“I’m… I’m… I’m Togawa Hina.” You reply.

“I was worried about you for a second, Hina.” Says the old woman. “You bought that cute geta and kimono of me but then seemed to lose consciousness for a second there.” You find yourself staring at her kind face and feeling relief that you were not left at the mercy of an evil person while vulnerable.

You look down at your body. It’s a petite feminine body complemented perfectly by the geta and kimono you are currently wearing.

“Yes, sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” You reply.

 “I think you should be going home, wherever that is.”  Said the old woman softly.

“I think so too. Thanks for the lovely clothes.”

“Bye!” You shout cheerily.

“Bye-bye!” replies the old woman. You look at her one last time and turn to leave. You think you see a particular evil look on the woman’s face for a second before you look away, but you believe you must be imagining it. She seemed so lovely. You leave the shop and enter your new life.

***
Togawa Hina quickly built a life for herself in Kyoto. She had nothing, as it turned out, and many seemed to think she had amnesia. How else did she end up in Kyoto without any memory of how she got there? With nothing to live on as well. However, she quickly was building a new life, including getting a boyfriend. She thought that he was going to pop the question anytime soon. She was happy.