You stumble through the trees, breath coming in ragged gasps. Your feet ache, blisters rubbing raw in your hiking boots. Dead leaves crunch under your heavy tread. The air smells of soil and decay. A twig snaps and you whirl around, heart pounding. But there’s nothing.
Just the woods and the strange pull that led you off the path. A flash of red catches your eye. There, draped over a low hanging branch – a pile of silken fabric the color of blood. Your fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to caress. To wear.
You shouldn’t. This is crazy. This are women’s clothes, there is no chance they’d fit you. And you think you really shouldn’t be wearing traditional Thai clothes either. But your hands move of their own accord, stripping away your sweaty t-shirt and cargo shorts. The silk is cool against your overheated skin as you wrap it clumsily around your body. The sabai settles heavily on your shoulders, the long skirt tangling around your feet.
And then the itching starts.
It begins at your scalp, thousands of pinpricks swarming across your skull. You claw at it desperately but freezes as long black strands float down before your widening eyes. The itch spreads, racing across your skin like a rash. Searing, stretching, changing. The reek of your own fear-sweat fills your nostrils as you double over, bones shifting, grinding, reforming.
Your hands fly to your chest as flesh PUSHES outwards, twin mounds erupting from your pecs. Teardrops of agony as the new nipples harden into tight buds. A moan slips from your lips, high and breathy. The itch centers on your groin now, worming its way into your most intimate crevices. Pressure builds in your balls, your cock, swelling unbearably until –
POP!
You scream as your manhood sucks back into your body, a wet squelch echoing in your ears. Slick heat rushes to fill the void, the delicate lips of your new pussy pulsing against the skirt’s gossamer fabric. Your ass inflates like a balloon, hips widening with an audible creak. Soft, jiggly, built for fucking.
The physical transformation is terrifying enough but it pales in comparison to the mental rewiring. Memories erode rapidly, your entire sense of self crumbling. A blank slate for an intoxicating Thai womanhood to be written. You sink to your knees, drowning in altered thoughts.
Salty tears slide down your face, splashing against the damp earth. But they’re tears of relief, of gratitude. The old you was so unhappy, so lost. This is better. This is RIGHT. Petite hands, with golden Asian skin, reach out to pluck two snowy blooms from the soil. An offering to your new gods.
You rise on trembling legs, the leaf litter cool and damp against your now bare soles. A blessed wind caresses your lush new curves, carrying with it the scent of undiscovered country. Of freedom. You walk into it gladly, leaving the tattered remnants of your old life behind.
The man is gone. Only the lotus woman remains.
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