Am I really going to do this? Am I really going to give in? Or maybe I should ask… Do I really have a choice? The geta are in the exact spot where I threw them two weeks ago. They don’t appear to have moved an inch, and even though it has been a rainy week here in Osaka, the geta still look perfect: brand new.
Throwing these Japanese sandals away was supposed to be my escape from this addiction. But if anything, it just made it worse. Sure, for the first few days I felt relief, freedom. But then the urges came back. First it was a feeling of something being… missing. Like there was a part of me that was not there. A kind of phantom limb syndrome. Then came the dreams. I dreamt everynight of the geta… of touching them and wearing them. Soon it wasn’t just my sleep that was affected. Every. Single. Moment of my life became a daydream about these damn sandals and their bright red straps. I was suppose to return home to America a week ago but I couldn’t bring myself to be so far from them. My visa has expired and my job has fired me but I can’t bring myself to care: not now that I can hold these things in my hands again.
Oh god, I can’t wait any longer. I need to wear them again, right now.
As I slip on the much-too-small geta and I feel the cool, slick wood against the bottom of my feet, I breathe a sigh of relief. Finally I can relax. That is, until it starts. Until the process begins once again. It doesn’t take long, as suddenly, I feel a strong familiar pinching as my feet rapidly deflate to become a perfect size for the geta. It doesn’t hurt like before, it almost feels like my body now wants this change to happen. The pinching sensation then quickly spreads upward from my small Asian feet as I begin to develop a petite frame. My bones audibly crack and realign, compressing my broad shoulders into a dainty, sloping build. Gasping at the intense feeling, I clutch at my my chest as masculine bulk melts away, leaving two rapidly expanding mounds. An unnatural, yet familiar, heat flushes through me, burning away lingering body hair as my skin smoothes into a flawless porcelain. I feel my facial features soften and refine, jaw tapering into a delicate heart shape while my hair cascades down my back in glossy waves. A gnawing ache then builds in my groin, quickly becoming unbearable as I double over, gripping at my crotch and moaning in an new girlish tone as my manhood begins to invert. I feel my cock and balls retracting as slick folds bloom outward in their place, delicate lips unfurling to expose a new, aching womanhood. I whimper from the feeling, as a familiar trickle of feminine arousal slickens my newly molded cunt.
I sit there, panting, my new feminine Asian body covered in sweat. Sweat that clings to my clothes, which are now restructuring themselves, flowing like liquid over my flawless porcelain skin. I feel the newly silkened layers of my clothes sculpting themselves into a fine kimono, ornamented with intricate patterns and tailored perfectly for my new body. I can’t help but think how beautiful they are. Not just the kimono but my whole body. Not that I will get much time to appreciate such beauty, as it won’t be long until the next stage of my addiction begins. It won’t be long now. It won’t be long until I become her.
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