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 this page.

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Oliver was a businessman who had so far managed to have some success but never anything like what he dreamed of. So far, he was little more than a small fry tea exporter. He met people, usually in China, and bought tea at the wholesale price before selling it at a markup to Western markets. Oliver was good at doing this and had a good eye for quality tea, but it was a competitive business with razor-thin margins. It was rare that Oliver could make more than a modest income, and so far, he had found no room to grow.

It was his knowledge of tea and his desire to find a wider margin that had led him to the countryside of Indonesia. Indonesia was not known for its tea, at least not yet, but Oliver had heard rumours of small villages producing tiny tea crops that they consumed themselves or sold locally for pennies. Something so small scale was perfect for the artisan tea market, which he wanted to tap into. He could buy it for almost nothing and sell it for sky-high prices, making a tidy profit with plenty of opportunities for future growth. His plan was simple: go out there, negotiate directly with villagers, bring back a crate and send off samples to get tea companies interested. Once one of them showed enough interest, he would start selling it at a massive markup.

It sounded so simple, but Oliver had not had much luck so far. It was not that the people would not speak to him; on the contrary, they were happy to meet him, but once they realized what he wanted, they often became highly protective of their tea and refused even to let him see it. They would talk all day about the beauty of the tea leaves and their great taste, but they became very closed off when it came to showing him the tea. It was all so frustrating, and after weeks of failing, Oliver was starting to feel like he was wasting his time.

Finally, though, he made a breakthrough in the form of Rezkhy and Bunga, two beauties from a secluded village somewhere in the forests. They had heard of Oliver’s search and travelled far to meet him. These two women were best described using one word: gorgeous.

Both were young, their faces radiant with infectious enthusiasm. They had incredible smiles, their teeth white against their perfect brown skin. The shade of which was a stunning golden brown that gleamed in the sunlight. Considering they must spend so much time outside, it was a marvel how their skin hadn’t darkened under the hot Indonesian sun.

Their eyes were a deep brown, and both girls had a habit of staring directly into Oliver’s eyes, making him fight not to look away. Bunga had long, silky black hair that cascaded down to their waist, while Rezkhy had shorter hair that stopped at her neck.

They had walked far to meet him, but surprisingly their feet were bare. Somehow, their feet were blemish-free and perfect, as though untouched by the harsh terrain they must have traversed. Bunga even had a large wicker basket on her back and didn’t even seem to notice the burden, nor did her skin with remained flawless on her back where the basket touched.

 The two girls were a big contrast to Oliver, who had blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin. And who stood over six feet in height, towering over the girls who couldn’t have been more than five foot four. Oliver also dressed very differently from them. It wasn’t just footwear: hiking boots and socks versus bare feet. Oliver also wore cargo shorts and a polo shirt, while the girls wore traditionally patterned dresses and seemingly nothing else.

Standing in front of them, Oliver found himself intimidated. Their beauty was not just in their physical appearance but also in their confidence and warmth. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe as he stood before them, captivated by them. And so, despite all his experience, Oliver found himself unsure of how to proceed, their beauty making him feel like a teenager.

“You want tea, yes?” Asked Rezkhy, her English extremely accented.

Oliver nodded, happy to be back in familiar territory. Tea was safe ground for him. Rezkhy smiled, her teeth catching the light.

“Tea very special.” Stated Bunga, her English even worse than Rezkhy’s. “Grow use special water. Special village water.” She added.

“I can’t wait to see it.” Said Oliver, smiling back at them. “Do you have the tea leaves with you?”

Bunga shook her head, causing Oliver’s heart to sink.

“Not with us,” Rezkhy explained. “In village. No bring.”

“Can I go see them? Maybe I can buy some from you?” Asked Oliver, still trying to hold out hope.

“No. You no go village.” Said Bunga. “No now, no ready!”

Oliver sighed. It was just like every other villager he had met. They were all so protective of their village and tea that they refused to let him even see the leaves.

Rezkhy saw the sad look on Oliver’s face and smiled at him warmly. “Maybe you need drink? Today hot.” She turned to Bunga and nodded. Bunga dropped her basket and squatted down next to it. Oliver could now see many oddly-shaped packages inside the basket, each of which had been wrapped in colorful fabric. Bunga carefully took one of the packages and slowly unwrapped it.

After a short while, Bunga stood back up with a small teapot in her hands. “Here tea!” She said proudly. The teapot was made of dark earthenware, with a thin spout and a long handle; Oliver guessed it was meant to be drunk from directly: no cups needed.

“Is that the tea from your village?” Asked Oliver, trying not to sound too eager.

Rezkhy nodded, her face alight. “Yes, special tea from village”

Bunga held out the teapot, and Oliver took it carefully. As he did, he felt the liquid inside slosh about. Oliver held the teapot to his nose, inhaling deeply and letting the smell of the tea wash over him.

It smelled great. A heady aroma that was unlike anything Oliver had smelt before. It was clearly quite a strong tea with a lovely woody fragrance.

Rezkhy watched Oliver closely as he smelt the tea. “Try it!” She said.

Oliver nodded, put the spout to his mouth, and tilted the pot slowly, allowing a small stream of tea to pour into his mouth. He had never tasted anything so unique. It was slightly sweet but with a beautiful underlying earthiness. Oliver closed his eyes as he let the tea roll over his tongue. It was just as good as he had hoped it would be. No it was even better.

He intended only to drink a small amount, but it tasted so good that he could not stop drinking more. In just moments, Oliver had downed the entire contents of the teapot.

Oliver lowered the pot and saw Rezkhy and Bunga staring at him, their eyes wide with a look he couldn’t quite place. Was it anticipation?

“How you like?” Asked Bunga, looking at Oliver carefully. “How feel?”

Oliver smiled at them, breathing heavily after downing so much liquid.

“I loved it! It was amazing! You have a wonderful tea, and I would love to see more of it!” He said enthusiastically.

Bunga and Rezkhy shared a quick look before returning their gaze to Oliver.

“Good. You drink good. Soon you go village.” Said Rezkhy, smiling brightly at him.

“I can go to your village?” Asked Oliver, unable to hide his shock. “Really? And I can see your tea leaves?

Bunga nodded, still smiling. “Yes, soon. You join village soon” She said.

Oliver looked from Bunga to Rezkhy, who both nodded in unison. Did she mean to use the word join?

“You…want me to stay?” He asked, suddenly feeling very light-headed. “Stay in your… your desa? How long? For how long?”

Bunga and Rezkhy’s faces lit up after they heard Oliver say the word desa, meaning village in Indonesian. Rezkhy clapped her hand together. “For always. You join desa now. We make tea!”

Oliver just stood there, unable to speak. His mind was reeling. Stay there for good? It’s that what they thought he wanted? He needed to clear this up immediately, but his head suddenly started hurting.

“Maaf, I don’t want join your desa”, Said Oliver, starting with the Indonesian word for sorry. His accent slightly shifted.

Rezkhy and Bunga turned to each other before laughing. They then turned back to Oliver. “Too late, you already gadis desa!” They said together.

Oliver was lost. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I tidak mau join desa. I mau stay outside desa, just visit. Just melihat tea! Melihat desa!” He added, meaning he didn’t want to join their village and only wanted to look at their tea and their village. His accent had grown more prominent, and Indonesian words had become more common as he struggled to think with his headache.

Bunga and Rezkhy just stared at him, their smiles never faltering as he spoke.

Oliver struggled to speak, his headache growing worse. He stumbled backwards, the teapot dropping to the ground and rolling away. “Kenapa… Kenapa you senyum. Apa yang kamu do to me? I no bergabung dengan desa!” He said, asking them why they were smiling and what they did to him and then telling them he would not join their village. Indonesian overtaking English in his words more and more.

Bunga and Rezkhy continued to stare at him, silent.

“Apakah kamu meracuni aku!?” Said Oliver desperately as the last of his English vanished, asking whether they had poisoned him. “Jawablah!” He screamed, demanding they answer him!

Bunga then spoke, Oliver hearing perfect English coming from her pretty lips. “You drank the tea of our village. You drank the waters of our spring. You will become one of us. There is no stopping it now.”

Rezkhy then spoke, and Oliver once again heard flawless English. “We understand if you are scared, but it will pass.”

Oliver wondered how their English was suddenly so perfect before realizing they were speaking Indonesian. And so was he. He was speaking in Indonesian. And he was even thinking in Indonesian. As this realization crashed into him, suddenly Oliver’s legs buckled, and he fell to his knees. Rezkhy rushed forward and knelt next to him.

“This is taking too long and will likely be very painful.” Said Rezkhy. “You need to drink more tea to feel better.”

Oliver shook his head violently. He didn’t want any more tea. It would make things worse.

“You are becoming a gadis desa. There is no stopping it now. Let us make it easier.” Said Rezkhy, who turned to Bunga and gestured to Oliver. Bunga squatted down next to her basket and pulled out another package. She carefully unwrapped it, revealing another teapot. She presented it to Oliver.

“Drink this.” Said Bunga

“No!” Shouted Oliver.

Bunga shook her head and put her barefoot on his shoulder, pushing his knees into the ground and holding him in place. Oliver turned to see the golden brown tone of her skin and felt the warm softness of her sole on his shoulder. Before he could react, she shoved the teapot’s spout through his lips and pushed past his teeth. The liquid started pouring, and he had no choice but to swallow it.

Oliver felt the world go fuzzy as the liquid poured down his throat. A warmth spread throughout his body, and he felt his muscles relax. Bunga let go of him, and he fell backwards onto the ground. Oliver stared at the sky as it spun slowly above him.

“Good. You will feel better much quicker now. Soon, you will be one of us.”

As Oliver lay on the ground, a sudden sensation gripped him. It was a squeezing and pushing feeling like invisible hands were kneading him like a lump of dough. Fear coursed through his veins as the sensation grew more and more intense.

Suddenly the sensation grew to unbearable levels in his feet. Oliver felt a strange sucking feeling as though his feet were being deflated. Desperate to see what was happening, he kicked his feet to try and remove his shoes. In doing so, Oliver was shocked to find his shoes and socks effortlessly flew off his feet. The first thing he noticed was the color. He no longer had pale white skin; instead, his feet were golden brown. His feet had also shrunk considerably, now delicate and dainty with perfect hairless and blemish-free skin. His feet looked just like Rezkhy’s and Bunga’s.

His new feet contrasted dramatically with his legs, which were unchanged. It was like he had gone to the tanning salon and only put his feet under the machine, causing a sudden cut to white hairy skin at the ankle: an ankle that seemed much too big for his new dainty feet.

Then the unbearable squeezing sensation moved up his ankles and into his legs, bringing brown skin with it. The feeling of sucking continued, and he witnessed his starkly contrasting legs starting to harmonize with his transformed feet. His calves grew thinner, and his ankles narrowed as his feet and legs became more proportionate. Moving higher, the squeezing sensation spread through Oliver’s thighs, causing a wave of feeling to ripple through them. Muscles shifted and contoured, giving way to smoother, more feminine curves. His thighs, once defined and muscular, softened and took on a graceful roundness. As the squeezing sensation persisted, Oliver felt a gentle expansion in his hips, their width broadening to accentuate his new form. Fat then pooled into his ass, which became fuller and fuller, pushing into his shorts and the ground.

Oliver looked down at his shiny and smooth new brown legs, now matching his little new brown feet perfectly. His shorts now felt tight as his freshly rounded thighs and ass pushed hard against the material. He couldn’t believe what he saw was part of him, so he curled his new toes and lifted his new calves to prove they were really his. His new legs felt light and smooth as he moved, so different to what he had before.

The sensation then made its way up his torso. The pressure growing even more intense as his waist was crushed inwards, organs being compressed and resized to fit a much smaller space as his stomach became flat. Next, he felt his chest contract, his rib cage crushing inwards as his shoulders smashed together, his arms shortening and thinning out to match his smaller and smaller form. Finally, as he felt his hands deflate, he turned to see his new arms, now brown and slender, poke strangely out of a polo shirt that was now much too big for him.

“You are almost done. Just let it take you!” Said Bunga with a smile. She seemed to be enjoying watching Oliver transform.

The material of the polo shirt sat loose over his slender torso until it suddenly started to tighten at his chest. Fat started to pile up, causing mounds to develop: new breasts forming and pushing increasingly against the material, bulging out against his white polo shirt. His nipples, now much more prominent, grew erect and poked obviously into the fabric.

Oliver then felt the squeezing sensation reach his neck. It constricted his windpipe, causing him to cough and splutter as it slowly squeezed down his throat. His Adam’s apple vanished under his skin as his neck became much narrower. The feeling was unbearable, but he couldn’t cry out. Instead, he could only let out small, strangled squeals as the sensation strangled him.

Suddenly the strangling stopped, and the squeezing came to his head. Oliver felt like his head was crushed in a vice. Quickly he felt his facial bones restructure. His once prominent nose began to change, gradually flattening and widening. His cheekbones softened, assuming a more gentle and feminine contour. The once angular jawline also softened, adopting a more rounded and delicate shape.

Oliver’s eyes rapidly darkened, from his vibrant blue to a rich brown hue, mirroring Rezkhy and Bunga’s eyes. He then felt a pulling sensation on his lips, which became fuller and more sensuous. This pulling sensation then moved to his hair, causing a cascade of luscious black locks that flowed longer and longer.

“You look beautiful!” Shouted Rezkhy, who was also observing the transformation. “Now for the important part. The part when you truly become one of us!”

The squeezing sensation seemed to enter Oliver’s mind. He felt it inside of him, gripping his thoughts. New words, ideas and memories started to stream into him. He tried for a moment to fight it, but the stream became a torrent, and he couldn’t help but be washed away. The flood flushed away every part of him, his personality and past fading to be replaced by something new. Then, finally, a new name came to him, as his mind was overwhelmed with memories of a village. A precious village deep in the forest. A village with a magic stream. A village that was home.

It was his village. No, it was her village.

Her birth complete, she went to stand up as a new gadis desa. But Bunga pushed her back down with her foot. “You are not done yet. I’m sorry, but the tea is not yet perfected, and you have something very wrong.” Her foot went down and gently placed itself on something that should not be there anymore.

The new gadis desa felt a shift down below. Oliver’s cock twitched. Then, with incredible skill, Bunga used her foot to pull down the male shorts and underwear that the new gadis desa was still wearing. Sure enough, in between her slender brown legs was Oliver’s pale white cock and balls. The new gadis desa was horrified to see such a disgusting object on her body.

“What should we do about this?” Bunga said, turning to Rezkhy.

“Let’s just use more tea and hope for the best.” Replied Rezkhy, who had already gone and unwrapped another pot of tea from the wicker basket. She lifted the teapot and poured out its contents.

“Please let this work!” Said the new gadis desa as the tea made contact with the last remnant of Oliver. As the tea touched Oliver’s cock, she felt it rise and harden. Almost as in protest of what was happening. It was an extremely disturbing feeling for the gadis desa as this alien shaft protruded out of her, twitching and pulsing against her wishes.

But soon, these remnants of masculinity started to melt away: both the cock and the balls receding under the pour of tea. They pulled inside her, lips forming where the balls used to be as the penis shrank down and reformed into a clit, radiating with a pleasant energy. The new gadis desa sighed in relief as her pussy finished forming: the last remnants of Oliver’s body melting into her new sex. She brushed her hand over her sex and felt a twinge of delight. She was whole at last.

Rezkhy put out her hand, and the gadis desa grabbed it, pulling her to her feet. Her body felt light, smooth and perfect. “What is your name, sister?” Asked Rezkhy, beaming.

“I am Endah. I am so happy to be Endah!”

****

The girls had no idea whether it was the novel use of the gadis desa spring water tea or some other mysterious force at work. But Endah, while entirely a gadis desa from inside to out, had retained some knowledge of Oliver’s life. She had maintained a near-perfect grasp of the English language as well as Oliver’s understanding of foreign business customs. But, most importantly, she had left with a sense of global tea practices that no one in the village could come near to. With her guiding hand, the gadis desa spring tea had a big future ahead.