“Car 7b… Car 7b,” Said Oliver to himself as he walked down the extended platform at Tokyo Station. He had taken the bullet train to Kyoto many times before and had never seen a carriage with a number and letter combination.

Car 1…

Car 2…

Car 3…

The platform was packed, and navigating around was difficult due to the people and their luggage. Luckily for Oliver, he towered over the local people at six foot five. It wasn’t just his height that made him stand out, as his blue eyes and blond hair made him a striking figure in the predominantly Japanese crowd.

Car 4…

Car 5…

Car 6…

So far, nothing was unusual. It was like every other time he had boarded at Tokyo Station, and Oliver was already thinking about where to eat when he arrived at Kyoto Station in about 2 hours.

Car 7…

And then, sure enough, was Car 7b.

Oliver paused, taking a moment to study this carriage. It was mostly the same as the others, yet it had a slight difference in its exterior. The windows were completely opaque, and the doors, usually open to welcome the passengers, were closed.

Oliver approached the door and heard a soft hum emanating from the carriage. He glanced around to see if any other passengers were getting onto Car 7b, but it seemed he was the only one.

A slight hesitation took over him. “Is this some kind of first-class cabin?” he wondered aloud. Before he could ponder further, the doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a dimly lit interior. A robotic voice greeted him, first in English and then in Japanese, “Welcome to Car 7b. Please enter.”

Oliver cautiously entered the carriage. As soon as he had stepped in, the door snapped shut.

CLANK.

He turned back and saw that the doors had locked shut behind him. Oliver turned back and squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the dimness. He hesitated for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. He was in the vestibule of the carriage, with nothing discernible other than a door to his left. The door, Oliver assumed, was to the carriage proper. A chill ran down Oliver’s spine as the weight of his isolation pressed in. The dark vestibule felt like it was a million miles away from the bustle of the station.

“Welcome to Car 7b,” the same robotic voice said in English and Japanese. “Please go through the door and find your place.”

Gathering his courage, he began walking to the door to the cabin, aiming to move through the vestibule into the central part of the carriage. However, as soon as his feet touched the ground near the door, they became stuck, as if some adhesive substance held him in place. Startled, he tried to free his foot, but the grip was firm.

Before he could react further, the door in front of him slid open automatically, revealing an even darker space beyond. The floor beneath him began to move, pulling him into the darkness. Oliver’s heart raced as he realized he was on a conveyor belt.

“W-what the hell is this?!” Oliver exclaimed as he was slowly pulled through the door. After he entered the cabin, the door behind him shut, and the lights slowly illuminated. The brightness gradually increased, revealing the high-tech interior of Car 7b. The walls were lined with sleek panels that emitted a soft, ambient glow. The conveyor belt stretched forward to the other side of the cabin, leading through various stations equipped with advanced machinery and robotic arms as it went.

Oliver suddenly felt the train shift beneath him as the conveyor belt initiated its slow journey forward. The gentle rocking sensation unmistakably indicated the train’s departure from Tokyo Station. The distinct sounds of train wheels clacking rhythmically against the tracks resonated in the distance while the muted ambiance of the bustling station platform began to recede.

The robotic voice, neutral and steady, announced in first English and then Japanese, “Train in motion. Commencing stage one: decontamination.”

Oliver heard a sharp hissing sound from above and saw an array of small nozzles hanging from the ceiling. These began releasing a fine, almost ethereal mist. The mist descended gracefully, reminiscent of a gentle rainfall, surrounding him in its cool embrace. It carried with it a subtle, fresh aroma.

“Decontaminating subject,” the robotic voice informed.

As the mist touched his skin, Oliver experienced a mild tingling sensation. It felt revitalizing. The droplets seemed to interact with his skin on a microscopic level, ensuring a thorough cleanse. His hair, too, became saturated with the mist, each strand meticulously addressed.

The conveyor belt’s deliberate and slow movement ensured that every inch of Oliver was exposed to the mist. Observing closely, he noticed minuscule particles lift from his skin, caught in the ascending mist, and subsequently extracted into the ceiling’s filtration system.

The mist also began interacting with his clothing. Oliver watched in shock as the fabric began to disintegrate at a molecular level, dissolving and evaporating into the mist.

“Fuck, no! Stop!” Cried Oliver as he watched his clothes vanish before his eyes. It didn’t take long until he was completely naked. And exposed. He looked down at his pale body, his white contrasting against the conveyor belt below.

“Subject decontaminated. Initiating drying phase,” the robotic voice chimed in.

The chamber’s atmosphere subtly shifted once more, becoming warmer. Gentle currents of warm air circulated around him, drying his body and ensuring complete evaporation of any residual moisture.

The conveyor belt did not stop momentarily and continued to carry Oliver slowly and consistently. Soon, he was approaching the first set of three hovering robotic arms. Suspended in clinical precision, two of the arms ended with a kind of clamp, and the other one prominently featured a syringe filled with a luminescent fluid.

“Commencing stage two: genetic infusion,” intoned the robotic voice, first in English and then in Japanese.

As one of the robotic arms moved towards Oliver, he could clearly see the gleaming needle. Panic surged within him. “No… no, what are you doing?! Stay away!” Oliver’s plea echoed in the chamber, but the machinery continued its programmed course. Oliver swung his arms wildly at the robotic appendages, but with extreme precision, the arms with clamps grabbed his wrists and held his arms against his body.

The third arm then found its way to Oliver’s neck.

“Ahhh!” He cried as he felt the initial sharp prick of the needle.

Oliver tensed as he felt the needle pressure digging deep into his neck. He then felt a strange warmth as the syringe released its contents inside of him. It was not the usual quick injection he got from the doctors; instead, the serum flowed slowly and deliberately. The warmth quickly turned into a burning sensation radiating from the injection site.

The arm pulled away from Oliver, but the burning sensation didn’t subside. Instead, the sensation seemed to proliferate: expanding and saturating every part of him. The liquid filled him up, stretching his cells drenching every fiber of his being. It was excruciating, akin to being drowned from the inside out.

“Fuck it hurts!” Oliver screamed as the fluid continued its invasive spread, his naked skin taking on a faint glow as the serum permeated him entirely. Every nerve ending felt aflame, every muscle fiber screamed in protest, and the unbearable invasion consumed every thought.

His vision blurred with tears from the sheer intensity of the pain. He could barely make out his surroundings as he continued to be slowly pulled through the cabin. Through this blurry haze, he could just about make out more robotic arms above, this time monitoring the serum’s process.

Soon, the pain began to subside, and Oliver watched the glow of his skin fade away.

The robotic voice broke the heavy silence, “Genetic infusion complete. Initiating stage three: cellular harmonization.”

As the conveyor belt continued its relentless journey through the cabin, Oliver’s body quivered with the remnants of pain from the serum. His senses were heightened, and every nuance of the chamber’s environment was amplified. The soft hum of machinery, the ambient glow of the walls, and the rhythmic clacking of the train wheels became an immersive symphony that enveloped him.

Suddenly, more robotic arms appeared from above, their ends taking the form of flashlights. The arms hovered around Oliver, their movements synchronized as if choreographed by an unseen conductor.

“Beginning energy infusion to induce cellular harmonization with new genetic pattern,” the robotic voice declared, first in English and then in Japanese.

“Cellurar harmonization?” Oliver’s heart raced as the arms closed in on him. His breath quickened, and beads of sweat formed on his skin. He knew something terrible would happen but wasn’t sure what it was.

The flashlight-like ends pointed toward him.

CLICK.

The flashlights began outputting a powerful green light. As soon as this light touched his skin, he felt something unlike anything he had ever felt. It was as though his skin was being infused with a powerful energy current.

Pain, once again, coursed through him, but this time it was different. It was as if his body was being pulled and stretched in all directions, reshaped at the molecular level.

“Ah! It hurts!” Oliver exclaimed, his voice quivering with pain. His cries filled the cabin as the arms continued their work, focusing on different parts of his body with meticulous precision.

First, the light covered Oliver’s arms. He felt them shorten slightly, his muscles reshaping as the robotic hands worked their magic. The sensation was uncomfortable, as if his bones were being pulled inwards and reshaped. His fingers, too, transformed, becoming slender and elegant. Oliver also noticed where the light touched his skin, a new yellow tone developed.

The light then moved to his shoulders and torso. His shoulders became narrower, more delicate, as his chest tightened slightly. It was as if his body was adjusting to a new frame, one that was more traditionally feminine. Oliver’s cries of pain persisted, a constant chorus of agony.

Oliver’s chest tingled as the light focused on them, and he could feel the emergence of soft mounds on his chest. They grew steadily, taking on a gentle curve as they expanded. It was an alien sensation, the birth of boobs on his once-male form. He whimpered as the transformation continued.

The light moved lower down his body. Oliver felt the area around his waist and hips felt like it was in a constant state of flux. His waist became more slender while his hips widened. It was as if his body was sculpted to fit a new, feminine silhouette. The pain intensified, making Oliver’s cries more desperate.

The light extended down to his legs and feet. His legs became shorter and more shapely as his feet became dainty and petite. Oliver’s height decreased incrementally with each passing moment. The pain was relentless as his bones reshaped to match his changing body.

Oliver’s cries reached a crescendo as he felt his ass shift and reshape. They became rounder and more feminine, fitting the contours of his new body. The discomfort was overwhelming, and Oliver could hardly comprehend the extent of his transformation.

The light then focused on his face and head, the most intimate and defining aspects of his identity. Oliver’s once-angular features softened, his jawline becoming more delicate. His cheekbones shifted, giving his face a more feminine appearance. His facial features began to move. He felt the sensation of his brow smoothing, the weight of his jawline diminishing, and the muscles in his cheeks softening. A tingling sensation coursed through his lips as they plumped and curved into a more delicate shape.

But it was in his eyes that Oliver felt the most profound transformation. His eyelashes grew longer, brushing against his cheeks with every blink. His irises shifted from blue to a captivating deep brown. It seemed he could see the world in a whole new light. With each passing moment, Oliver’s eyes became more almond-like.

Oliver’s blond hair, a symbol of his former self, darkened gradually. The once-straight strands became silky and black, cascading down his shoulders and back. The transformation of his hair was a tangible reminder of his changing identity.

The transformation climaxed as the arms blasted Oliver’s cock and balls with the light. The pain was unbearable, and he cried out in agony as his male anatomy underwent a profound alteration. The sensation was a mix of excruciating pain and disorienting pleasure, leaving Oliver gasping for breath. He watched as the powerful green light illuminated his cock, and the ball sucked inside of him and developed into a new glistening new cunt.

CLICK.

The flashlights finally switched off, causing the green light to vanish.

Oliver blinked, feeling the weight of his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, now framed by almond-shaped eyes with deep brown irises.

His once-blond hair, long and silky, cascaded gracefully down his shoulders and back, an inky black that framed his transformed face. The reflection that met his gaze on the polished surface before him was a stark departure from the man he once knew.

Oliver’s jaw dropped in astonishment as he looked down at his body. His chest was adorned with soft, newly formed breasts that gently rose and fell with each breath. His waist had become slender, and his hips were curvier, giving his silhouette a distinctly feminine allure. His legs, now longer and more shapely, led to dainty feet that had replaced his once-masculine ones.

He gasped, not only from the shock of his changed form but also from the sensation of his new female parts. It was an unfamiliar but undeniable reality. Oliver’s voice trembled as he spoke, its timbre now unmistakably feminine.

“I…” He began but paused after he heard his new voice for the first time. “I can’t believe this… It’s like I’m someone else,” he stammered, the words coming out much softer than he was used to.

Oliver’s gaze lingered on his new skin tone, a subtle but significant transformation. His once-pale complexion had taken on a warm, Asian hue. Oliver’s gaze went down to his little Asian feet, contrasted heavily against the dark, still-moving conveyor belt.

“Commencing stage four: Cognitive Harmonization,” the robotic voice declared in its usual cold, mechanical tone, this time in Japanese first and English second.

He looked up and saw he was nearing the end of the cabin. In front of him, he noticed an array of speakers and lights. As he reached them, they began to bombard him. The sound was overwhelming, a cacophony of voices and music threatening to drown him. The lights were equally overwhelming as they flickered and pulsed in a hypnotic rhythm, casting strange shadows across the walls.

Oliver’s mind filled with strange memories, first as a trickle and then as a flood. His mind was fighting uselessly to hold on as the relentless assault of sound and light brought endless new memories.

“What happening… to… watashi?” Oliver muttered, his voice trembling as alien words began to enter his mind. His internal voice became a tumultuous mix of languages. English and Japanese clashed and merged, creating a chaotic symphony of words and phrases that made his head spin.

“Who…am watashi?” Oliver’s voice wavered as his sense of self began to unravel. His memories shifted like dunes in a desert storm, reshaping into something different.

“O-Oliver…or…?” His English faltered, giving way to Japanese. “Watashi wa…name wa… what is?” He struggled to form the words, his tongue feeling heavy and awkward.

The lights continued their dance, their hypnotic rhythm pulling Oliver further into the abyss. His old self, his old identity, was slipping away, like a dream fading in the morning light.

“Kore wa…nanidesu ka?” Oliver whispered in Japanese, his voice trembling. He was no longer sure who he was or where he had come from. His memories were like fragments of a shattered mirror, reflecting a life that was no longer his.

The battle in his mind raged on, his old self and his new self colliding and merging. The voices, the memories, the identity…they all became a swirling vortex of confusion and pain.

And then, in a moment of clarity, it all became clear. Oliver’s old self vanished completely like a candle snuffed out by the wind.

“Kore wa watashi no namae desu.” The words flowed effortlessly from Oliver’s lips, perfect Japanese. His voice was no longer hesitant or confused. It was the voice of a new identity, a new self. Oliver was washed away as his new self became all he knew.

“Sumire,” Sumire said, her voice steady and sure. “Watashi wa Sumire Ishida desu.”

Sumire found herself nearing the end of the cabin, her journey on the conveyor belt almost complete. As she stood there, a sense of anticipation filled her. Near the end of the cabin was another set of robotic arms, this time with hand-like appendages. Along the side of the cabin were racks of clothing.

“Commencing stage five: final touches,” the robotic voice announced in only Japanese, its words resonating in the air as the arms came to life, each holding a piece of clothing. Sumire watched as the arms gracefully draped the garments over her body.

First, a pair of sheer, thigh-high stockings was pulled up her legs. Sumire lifted her legs to accommodate the arms as the soft and smooth was forced up her skin, and she couldn’t help but admire how it made her legs appear more slender and alluring. Sumire marveled at the feeling of silkiness against her newly transformed skin.

A lacy, matching bra and panty set followed. Sumire could feel the delicate lace brushing against her, making her feel feminine and desirable. As the bra was fastened and the panties were adjusted, she couldn’t help but smile at the newfound curves of her body. Next, a pair of black high heels was placed at her feet. Sumire felt a sense of elevation as she slipped her feet into them. The sensation of being taller, more elegant, filled her with delight. The heels clicked gently against the conveyor belt, and her silk-clad feet felt slippery inside the shiny heels.

A form-fitting, sleeveless dress was carefully draped over her shoulders. The fabric hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her newly acquired feminine shape. Sumire marveled at how the dress complemented her figure, making her feel elegant and sensual. Lastly, a pair of delicate, dangly earrings was placed in her ears. The gentle sway of the earrings added a subtle charm to her overall look, making her feel even more beautiful and complete.

Sumire stood there, fully dressed and adorned, a sense of contentment washing over her. The conveyor stopped just in front of the door to enter the vestibule at the other side of the cabin that Oliver had entered. The door opened, and she stepped through, her heels clicking on the floor as she did so. The door shut behind her and locked once more.

****

The bullet train arrived at Kyoto Station, and, after a short pause, the doors opened, and crowds of passengers flowed out of each carriage. For carriage 7b, however, only one person alighted. Sumire Ishida was a gorgeous young Japanese woman whose heels clicked confidently on the ground as she walked along the platform. Her black, silky hair swished around her shoulders, and her almond-shaped eyes were full of intelligence and charm. Sumire’s outfit was elegant and refined, yet also sexy and alluring, and she knew it. Her confidence was evident in her every move and expression, and her presence drew the attention of everyone around her.

She had come to Kyoto to find a man and build a family. With her new looks, she will certainly have no issue doing just that.