This is a remake of a previous story, of which I was not even remotely happy with. You can find the original by clicking ‘scraps’ at the top of my Deviantart.

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Even in a vibrant country like Indonesia, the airports are never particularly interesting. Jakarta airport is no exception. Its architecture is both modern and utilitarian, and much the same as any other airport you have visited before. Jakarta Airport being this way wouldn’t be a problem, except that your flight has been delayed several hours, so you are stuck entertaining yourself until it is finally ready to leave.

Luckily your girlfriend, Sarah, is with you. She is why you went on this trip in the first place, as she is the textbook definition of an explorer. She has short blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin. Skin that she has managed to keep fair even though she has been wearing more or less the same skimpy outfit during the whole trip. A combination of short shorts, a tank top and sandals. Today her shorts are white denim, her tank top black, and her sandals are leather and strappy. It’s only because of Sarah that you aren’t dying of boredom. Her bubbly, explorer personality is infectious. Right now, she is trying to turn your stay in Jakarta airport into something like an explorer first stepping into the new world. The shops are the bazaar of a fantastic kingdom under siege, and the Indo Airways adverts the flag of an occupying army.

“Come on,” she says, “I bet this place has a few interesting places. We just need to go look!” And then you are whisked away on an adventure. While this is fun, it can be stressful as Sarah has a habit of ignoring warning signs and going places she shouldn’t. Sure enough, you are soon going down a corridor and entering an area of the airport that is likely just for staff.

”Sarah, let’s go back! We’re in an airport, so we could get in a lot of trouble for being somewhere we shouldn’t…”

Sarah laughs. “Relax! The door wasn’t even locked! The worst we will get is a stern talking to.”

“No, I am serious; we shouldn’t be here.”

Sarah replies, still laughing. “Fine, we’ll turn back… right after I look through this old-looking door.”

Sure enough, Sarah had led you up to a particularly old-looking door. It was much older than the other doors in the corridor and made out of a darker and heavier-looking wood that didn’t quite fit the rest of the modern-styled airport. The door has a heavy iron ring as its doorknob and a small plate of brass is nailed to it. On the plate was engraved the words:

DUNIA BARU

You don’t know why, but you get an ominous feeling as you look at the door. “Sarah, I really don’t think you should go in there! “

“Come on, stop worrying so much. I’m just going to take a peek.” She says with a smirk as she reaches for the iron ring.

”Sarah, I mean it…” You say before trailing off. She isn’t listening to you. Instead, she turns the iron ring with a clunk and pushes at the heavy wood before you get a chance to stop her. The door slowly slides open with a loud creak. Without hesitation, she steps inside the room.

For a moment, you stand there, watching the doorway. You are half expecting something dramatic to happen, like the door might violently slam shut behind Sarah, or that she might start screaming in terror. But instead, you just stand there in silence until you finally hear a voice from inside the room: “Are you coming in or what?” You feel a little embarrassed to be just standing outside while your girlfriend explores so confidently. So you follow her inside while trying hard not to feel intimidated.

As you walk into the dark and dusty room, you first notice how big the room is. The heavy and rich wood that adorns the walls and floor stretches far away from you. The room smells a bit like a closet, with a musty smell reminiscent of old coats and worn shoes. It’s dark in the room, as the only light source seems to be a single lamp in the corner of the room. As your eyes adjust to the light, you see that the room is filled with racks on which hang clothes. Beneath these racks are numerous pairs of shoes.

“This place must be used for storage. I’d guess for one of the airlines, as all these clothes look the same.” You hear Sarah say. You quickly turn towards her voice. She is standing in one of the corners of the room with a curious expression. After she mentions it, you notice that all the clothes share the same red floral pattern. A pattern that all the shoes share too.

“They must store uniforms here. But why so many? And why in such a dark, dingy place? ” You say, thinking out loud.

“Yeah. This room doesn’t even seem to belong in an airport at all. Maybe it was a VIP lounge originally, and it’s since been repurposed? ” Replies Sarah.

“Well, in any case, we should be returning to our gate. It can’t be that long until we fly now.”

Sarah makes a disappointed noise. “I dunno, there is something about this room. I want to look around a little bit more. ” She winks at you. “Just five more minutes. “

You watch as she walks around the room some more, eventually walking up to one of the clothes racks. She brushes her hand against a couple of the uniforms.

“These uniforms are gorgeous, especially with this traditional Indonesian pattern. It must be a pleasure to be able to wear them.” She pauses for a moment, feeling the material of the dress carefully. Then she laughs and says: “maybe we should try them on? What do you think?”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. ” You reply curtly. The ominous feeling you had when you saw the door earlier flashes through your mind for a moment. “There is something odd about this place!” You add a little lamely.

Sarah takes one of the dresses from its hanger and picks up a pair of shoes. “I dunno, something about these clothes makes me want to try them on. And besides, these are my size. ” She says with another of her trademark winks. Her wink usually disarms you but not this time, the ominous feeling still fresh.

“No, don’t do it…” But once again, you trail off as she ignores you. So instead, she kicks off her strappy sandals and slides her shorts down, kicking them away too. Finally, she slips her vest over her head and lets it fall to the floor. Within moments she was just left with her panties and bra. Sarah then slides the red floral uniform over her head. Besides being a little tight around her chest and butt, it seems to fit pretty well. You guess that the flight attendants of this airline are not usually as well endowed as Sarah.

“This looks good on me, right?” She says while doing a twirl. You can’t deny that it looks fantastic: the colour perfectly complementing her fair skin. However, now that she is modelling it, you notice that the dress has a blue and white floral pattern around the collar, and the material splits at the thigh. Whichever airline it belongs to, you can’t help but agree that it’s an elegant uniform with a native Indonesian flair. It is definitely a uniform that looks great on Sarah, but then again, everything looks good on her.

“It looks good, but I really think you should take it off now. What if someone comes in and sees you wearing it? ” You reply. You don’t understand what is so wrong with what Sarah is doing, but something in your head keeps telling you to run.

“I can’t wear the dress and not try on the shoes, can I? ” She laughs as she pulls her feet into the sandal heels. The straps of the heels have a pattern that matches the dress, and the colour suits her skin perfectly. You can’t help but notice her feet look vibrant in them.

“Well, you’ve done it now. You’ve tried the uniform on, and you know it looks great on you, but now you really should quickly change back to your old clothes so we can get back to the gate.” You reply. Your heart is pounding now. Something about the room is setting off a primal warning bell in your brain.

Sarah makes a disappointed noise. “Look how beautiful they make my…” She frowns for a second as she seems to struggle to find the right word. “Look how beautiful they make my kaki!” She finishes the sentence with a laugh, seemingly unaware that she just spoke the Indonesian word for foot.

“What did you just say? I didn’t understand that last word.”

She gives you a puzzled look. “Oh, maaf. My bad. I said how cantik my kaki look.” She replies, unknowingly adding even more Indonesian words into the mix.

You have no idea what she said and feel yourself growing increasingly concerned. “Do you know what you are saying? I don’t understand you at all. Are you feeling sick? Lightheaded?”

Sarah laughs again but a little nervously this time. “You start scare me! Why you look at me like that? Saya only say kaki saya sangat cantik.” She says, adding even more Indonesian words into her sentences.

“Ahhh!” Suddenly she doubles over as if someone had punched her in the gut. Her eyes grow wide, and her mouth opens in utter fear. Sweat starts to appear on her face.

‘What’s wrong?’ you rush to her side, your voice shaking. Sarah’s breathing is labored, her knuckles white as they grip the fabric of the Indonesian uniform.

Suddenly, she raises her head to look at you, her blue eyes filled with terror. “Saya… Saya merasa… merasa…” she stammers out, her words replaced entirely by the Indonesian language. Her voice is panicked, and as she speaks, her body trembles. You put your hand on her arm and feel her skin is both cold to the touch and covered in sweat.

“Sarah, what is happening to you?” You say, fear gripping your voice. Sarah’s response is nearly unintelligible, the words foreign and panic-stricken. Suddenly her hand shoots out to clutch yours. You feel her cold skin against you as she grips your hand tight. You look down to see her hand and almost cry out in shock.

You see, her hand has changed colour, her fair skin, usually much light than yours, having changed to a deep brown. You then notice similar patches of dark skin all over her. This new skin color covers her like patchwork. She cries out in pain and confusion as the color spreads over her body, her fair skin turning completely brown as a force of transformation begins to overtake the rest of her body.

Her nose, once thin and pointed, starts to widen and flatten. She cries out, the sound muffled and distorted as the contours of her face contort and shift. You watch in helpless horror as her eyes, once a bright and vivid blue, darken. They first turn a muddy gray before finally settling into a deep, dark brown.

Next is her hair, that short blonde cut morphing in an instant. First darkening to a pitch black and then lengthening rapidly, growing in voluminous waves down her back. Sarah cries out again as the transformation continues, her body trembling with the strain.

And then her body, once pleasingly curvy, starts to flatten and slim down. She screams in agony as her body contracts, her chest flattening as her waist and hips narrow. Her legs, once muscular and toned, become slender and delicate. Her height doesn’t decrease, but her body becomes noticeably flatter. Perhaps you could say she is more elegant, although many would just call her more plain.

“Tolong bantu saya!” She screams in Indonesian as she falls to the floor, the transformation complete. As you stare, you can’t even recognise her anymore. If you hadn’t seen what had just happened, you’d never believe this was anyone but a local woman.

“Sarah? Sarah, please, talk to me! What is going on? I don’t understand!”

Sarah moves a little but doesn’t quite stand up. Instead, she shifts to sit on the floor as though she is too tired to stand up. Finally, she lifts her head and stares up at you in fear, and you meet her gaze. Your eyes lock onto her new brown, exotic eyes. Tears stream down her brown Asian face as you stare at each other for what feels like a year. Neither of you knows what to do now: how could you after what you just experienced?

After staring at each other for a while, neither of you seemingly wanting to make the first move, Sarah finally breaks the tension as she lets her eyes slowly close. From then on, she just sat on the floor, her eyes shut. Almost as though she was meditating. Then, after a while, her eyes opened once again. What you saw in those eyes was the most terrifying thing yet.

On her face was no recognition. Not a single hint of it. It was through she was looking at a stranger. Her fear was gone too and in its place was a look of confidence. Her exotic brown eyes now had a certain fire behind them. A fire quite different from the Sarah you knew.

“Sarah?” You ask, but there is no response. Instead, she pushes herself up onto her feet, her heels clicking against the floor as she does so. She looks at you, a smile appearing on her face: a smile that is quite different from how she smiled before.

“Hello sir, I am Aulia.” She says in English, albeit with a thick accent. The sound of her new voice, so different from Sarah’s, sends shivers down your spine. You stare at her in disbelief.

“Sir, I not sure why you are here, but it’s not good for passengers to be here. Can you please go to the main terminal?” Aulia’s voice is firm but polite, with a professional tone that Sarah never had. Her accent is thick and hard to understand.

You’re shocked. This can’t be happening. You stutter, “Sarah… This isn’t funny. We need to get you help. Something is very wrong with you.”

Aulia looks at you with a confused expression. “I no know who Sarah is. I am Aulia, I work for Indo Airways. I believe you mistake me for someone.”

You’re speechless, grappling to comprehend the reality of the situation. Aulia, on the other hand, is seemingly oblivious to your internal turmoil, her eyes looking you up and down as she carefully considers you. “Oh, maybe you here because you interested in Indo Airways?” She asks, her voice questioning.

After saying this, she walks across the room, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. She goes up to a different clothes rack and picks up a dress and heels, just like hers. She turns towards you, the dress over her arm and the heels in her hand: “This uniform will suit you. Do you want to try it on?”

“Stop this, Sarah! We need to get help! Drop that uniform, and let’s go!” You desperately try to plead with her, hoping that somewhere deep down inside this stranger, there still might be a trace of the woman you love.

Aulia just chuckles at your words, her dark eyes dancing with amusement. She gracefully navigates the room towards you, her every move expressing grace and professionalism that seems so foreign to the Sarah you remember.

“No, sir. I am not Sarah. But, I insist you must try these. The fabric feels divine!” She gestures her arm, offering you the red floral pattern dress and matching heels. Your first impulse is to run, but as you look at the dress, it seems to captivate you and stop you from doing so.

Suddenly, in a quick motion, she grabs your hand. Her dark skin rubbing against yours reminds you of Sarah. If you closed your eyes, you’d believe it was her. You can’t help but like this feeling and so don’t think to resist as she moves your hand to brush against the uniform.

A shiver runs down your spine the second your fingers touch the fabric. The material feels luxurious, cool and silky smooth against your fingertips. Aulia then lets go of your hand, but you don’t try to pull away from the fabric. Instead, you caress the dress, your fingers tracing the floral patterns as the material feels vibrant against your skin. It feels oddly comforting yet somehow deeply disturbing at the same time.

“I… I can’t wear this; it’s a woman’s uniform!” You stammer out, finally pulling your hand back from the dress. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your thoughts spinning as you try to make sense of this bizarre situation.

Aulia smiles a gentle, reassuring smile, her gaze locking onto yours. “Why don’t you just try it? There’s no harm in trying, right?” She continues to press, her voice soft and persuasive. “The clothes might be tight, but I think you could manage it.”

You look down at the uniform in her hands, then back at Aulia. There’s something about how she’s looking at you and how she spoke that makes the idea seem less absurd. But, more than that, a strange curiosity stirs within you.

In a daze, you feel yourself kick off your shoes and discard your socks. In a daze, you find yourself stripping off your clothes and throwing them to the floor. In a daze, you bring yourself to wearing your just underwear.

Aulia claps her hands together. “I knew you would make the right decision!”

You aren’t listening to her. Instead, you only focus on the task that now boils inside you. Slowly you reach for the pair of sandal heels that Aulia is holding. The leather soles feel cool and smooth against your fingers as you grasp them. You drop them to the ground with a thud. You slide your left foot in and then your right foot.

The shoes are much too small. The straps strain hard against the sides of your feet, and your toes and heel protrude far from the edges. You shouldn’t be able to balance in them, but your legs remain still.

“Let me help you.” Says Aulia as she moves closer to you, the red dress still over her arm. She slides it over your head and tugs it over your body. The dress’s fabric is soft against your skin, but just like the shoes, it is much too small and so strains heavily against your skin. Due to it being much too small, the dress barely goes down to your waist, exposing your legs.

“You look great! You really do!” Aulia says with a smile. But, again, you are not really listening to her. Instead, you feel oddly calm as you stand in your much too-small heels and a dress that strains heavily and barely covers you. A warm sensation slowly permeates every inch of your body.

That’s when you feel it. A powerful squeezing sensation that covers your feet. It’s like someone has grabbed your feet and is clasping them tight. The feeling causes you to look down at your feet. As you do, you see patches of darker skin starting to spread. These patches get larger and larger as discomfort builds and pulsates through your feet.

Suddenly, a pressing pain explodes through your feet: it feels as if each bone in your feet is compressing, being molded into a smaller shape. The pain surges, sharp and sudden, as your toes begin to crunch inward. Soon your toes no longer protrude over the edge of the shoe as they become much shorter and shorter.

Your heels follow suit, crunching inwards as the whole form of your feet forces itself into a smaller profile. Just like your toes, your heels no longer protrude as your feet reshape to the confines of the sandal heels. The skin continues to darken as this happens, the brown patches spreading until they have consumed all of your familiar paleness.

The pain recedes as your feet slowly stop their transition with their final change: your toes spread slightly to match a person who has spent their childhood barefoot. Each foot of yours is now dainty and a perfect fit for your shoes. The skin is dark, hairless and flawless. They are ideal feet for an Indonesian woman.

For a moment, you stand there staring at your new Indonesian feet: the pain finally gone. But then it starts again, causing you to scream, “Oh God!” As the squeezing sensation begins to spread from your now-dainty Indonesian feet. You feel it travel up your ankles and calves before growing painful as it reaches your thighs and hips.

Just like you felt in your feet, you can feel the bones in your legs begin to compress. Dark patches of skin start to spread across the surface as your muscle and fat boil and bubble.

You start to feel yourself lose height as you feel CRUNCH after CRUNCH as the bones compress and become smaller: simultaneously, your muscle and fat bubble more and more, changing in proportions and distribution as they do so. Muscle turns into fat as your thighs expand while your pelvic bone expands outwards, leaving you with a shapely ass as your q-angle changes causing your knees to point toward each other.

The feeling of pain recedes as the brown skin finishes spreading over your legs, leaving your skin smooth and hairless. Your ankles fit your new feet perfectly, as your legs have become shapely and curvy. Everything about your legs is now undoubtedly that of a woman, from your cute toes to your shapely calves to your fat thighs and curvy ass. Once again, you get a short respite as you inspect your transformed Indonesian legs.

“O god! I can’t take this anymore!” You scream or think you do. Instead, “o Tuhan! Aku nggak tahan lagi sama ini” comes from your lips. The squeezing sensation now spreads up your body from your ass. You see the skin of your arms begin to darken, and once again, you feel bones compress. But this time, you feel it across your arms and torso as the fat and muscle in that area bubbles. The pain is even worse this time, including your rib cage and collarbone.

“Ahhh!” You scream as the pain forces you to double over, sweat pouring down your face. The squeezing pain crashes through you as your arms shorten and your hands crush inwards, becoming smaller and smaller. Finally, you hear a loud CRUNCH as your collarbone shortens and your shoulders pull inwards, allowing the dress to fall down your body. You are trembling now, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as the squeezing sensation takes hold of your torso. Your rib cage starts to shift, crunching and compressing inward and causing a gasping cry to escape from your lips.

Suddenly, your waist pulls inwards, forcing a ragged gasp from your lips. The intense pressure feels like a giant invisible corset is being laced around you, squeezing tighter and tighter. Your organs shift and change as your torso crushes inwards. At the same time, your hips continue their previous expansion, stretching wider and causing the dress to become tight around your developing hourglass shape as your figure morphs to accommodate it. As the transformation creeps up your torso, you can feel your muscles and fat reconfiguring under the skin, taking on a softer, more rounded appearance. Your flat chest prickles, a strange sensation taking hold as you look down to see your chest slowly rising and falling, expanding gradually into two prominent mounds. The pain is intense but receding as your torso approaches the end of its transformation.

The fabric of the dress strains around your now blossoming breasts, providing a kind of tightness that you had never experienced before with your male clothing. Finally, the last of the pain eases as you are left with a pair of rounded, feminine boobs. Unfortunately, this time you don’t get any respite as the squeezing feeling rushes up your neck, a sense of extreme tightness occurring as your neck becomes more slender. As your neck changes, the pressure forces your Adam’s apple to shrink, disappearing from view entirely, while your throat rearranges itself, subtly altering your vocal cords. You want to scream out in pain again, but the sound that comes out is softer, higher pitched than before. It echoes in the room, a melodious exclamation in a distinctly feminine tone.

“Now for the best part… sister.” Says Aulia as you feel the pressure cover your head.

“CRACK! POP! CRACK!” Can be heard loudly in your head as your face and head goes through a transformation of its own. This growing pressure on your head is like the worst headache of your life, times one thousand. Your jawline softens, becoming less prominent, and your lips fill out slightly, curving into a more feminine shape. Your nose flattens and becomes wider while your cheekbones raise a little, creating a heart-shaped face. Your eyelashes grow longer, framing a pair of almond-shaped eyes that now reflect a deep brown color to match your transformed skin. With a final surge of warmth, your hair follicles tingle at the top of your head. Your once short hair grows at an alarming rate, cascading down your shoulders and back, a glossy black stream that reaches your lower back before finally stopping. Now, as your head gets closer to the end of its changes, the pain begins to fade.

Then the pain stops.

For a long moment, you stand there in the uniform that now fits you perfectly. Your body is no longer in pain, just a lingering sense of warmth and a weird feeling of dislocation. You lift your hands, the small delicate fingers so foreign, so different from what you’re used to. You turn them over, inspecting the new you. You open your mouth to speak, but the voice that comes out is softer: a new beautiful feminine voice.

“Am I done?” You ask in Indonesian.

“Just one more thing.” Replies Aulia in Indonesian with a smile. To meet her gaze, you must now look up as she is almost a head taller. She points to your crotch, causing you to look down. And that’s when you notice.

Your cock is still there. Still proud. It is rock hard, sticking out strangely from your new feminine form and causing your uniform to make something of a tent at your crotch. You’re not sure you have even been so hard before.

“Let me help you with that.” Says Aulia as she moves her hand under your dress and pulls your male underwear over your wide hips so that it is free to fall to the ground around your heels. She then puts her hand around your rock-hard shaft and begins massaging it. Her other hand squeezes your firm breast as she does so, causing you to moan softly: a loud, feminine moan. The touch feels so alien yet so right at the same time. A warmth builds inside you as she squeezes your shaft, slowly increasing the pace and pressure with which she handles you.

“Ughh!” You cry out in your new, already feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly. Your heart rate increasing quickly as you get closer and closer. You desperately want it. You want nothing more than to cum. To feel yourself explode into Aulia’s warm hand. She then picks up the pace, carefully rubbing your shaft. But even though you feel so close, your cock refuses to let go.

You open your mouth, trying to speak, but the pleasure is too much, and no words come out. You are now nothing but your cock, ready to explode. Nothing else matters.

“Something is preventing your cumming.” Says Aulia. “But don’t worry, we can get rid of it fast. Would you like that?”

“Yes, anything, just make me cum!” You reply in Indonesian.

“First, tell me where you are from?”

You pause momentarily, trying to remember your childhood, your past, and your school days. First, you remember what you have always remembered, but then it suddenly changes in front of your eyes. You see your village in Indonesia, your Indonesian parents and your Indonesian school.

“I’m from Indonesia.” You say without hesitation. As you do, the feeling in your cock gets a little more potent.

“Good. And what is your job!?”

Once again, you see your old job, the job you have done for years, but then it quickly changes to memories of Indo Airways, your training and years of experience there.

“I’m a Flight Attendant!” You cry out, your cock twitching madly.

“And what is your name!?”

You see it. You see it clearly, your old name. You hear the way it’s said and see how it’s spelt. That is until it fades away, replaced with a new name.

“I am Maya!” You cry, the feeling in your cock the greatest you have ever felt. Is it even possible to feel so much through it?

“Has this always been the case? Has it ever been any different!?”

“Yes, it’s always been this way! I’ve always been an Indonesian woman called Maya. I’ve always worked for Indo Airways. I’VE ALWAYS LOVED MY JOB!” You scream as your cock twitches uncontrollably. You scream out in your feminine voice as your cock finally lets go. Finally, you scream as loud as you can as you begin to orgasm.

“CUM FOR ME, SISTER!”

And then you explode. The pleasure unbearable. But you don’t release any cum; instead, your cock is sucked inwards by the orgasm. Your balls follow as your male sex sucks inwards. The pleasure doesn’t let up as this happens. Instead, wave after wave of orgasms crashes into you. A mound develops as your cock, and balls suck entirely inside you with a SQUELCH, as lips form and open where your balls used to be. Juices wet your new lips as your cock becomes a fully developed clit. As the orgasm finishes, you are left with a perfect Indonesian pussy, ready to be filled.

Aulia leaves you standing there, out of breath: panting heavily as the warmth and pleasure leave you. As you breathe, the events of the transformation begin to fade. Every breath leading to you remembering less and less. Until eventually, you remember nothing of it at all. Then, finally, Aulia puts her arm around you and smiles.

“Maya, it’s almost time we got to our flight!” She says, squeezing your arm like an old friend. “It’s good we were available, or the flight might have been cancelled!”

As she says this, you remember. Aulia is your good friend and colleague at Indo Airways, and you have agreed to work overtime to prevent a flight from being cancelled. So, with your new purpose, you start walking, and she follows, keeping her arm around you. Both of your heels clicking against the wood as you go to leave the room. As you enter the corridor, you carefully close the old door behind you, carefully turning the iron ring to ensure it closes properly. Then, you glance at the brass plate on the doorway, which reads ‘Dunia Baru.’ It means a new world, and with Indo Airways, that’s precisely where you’ll be heading.