Adapted Anonymous [Man to Asian Beauty TG] - Part 3

Michael is your average guy, living an average, stagnant life, when suddenly he is transformed into a beautiful Asian woman. Struggling with the change, he begins attending Adapted Anonymous and ends up finding friendship, love and self-acceptance along the way.

~

Neither of us bought up the whole, masturbating in the shower thing. Thank God. Despite how good it felt, the embarrassment at being overheard killed any desire to do it again. Well, that wasn't strictly true. I wanted to do it a lot, but I was so paranoid about Daisy overhearing, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. 

Living with Daisy was strange, to put it mildly. Not only had I not shared a room since my dorm days in college (A degree that went nowhere by the way), but my roommate was a grandma stuck in the body of a hot twenty-something. At first, the little mistakes, like almost falling for more scam calls and not understanding how wi-fi worked, was cute. But it got old quickly. For a while, I entertained the fantasy of this happening while I was still a man, she’d slowly fall for me, then, grateful for all my help, we’d fall into bed together. 

The fantasy lost its lustre the more weeks passed. Then it started to feel actively wrong. It was like taking advantage of a child; Daisy was just too sweet to trick like that. I also noticed that aside from the Adapted Anonymous meetings, she didn’t go out much. Or at all, really. She cooked, she cleaned, she made a doily for every possible item, which I eventually ran out of excuses not to use. My house was even starting to smell like those hard candies that only old ladies liked. 

Candy started stopping by whenever she could manage, wanting a place to hang out where her urges didn’t drive her wild. It was sort of unfair; two beautiful women using my house as a hangout spot. It was every guy’s dream; if only I were still a guy. 

“Daisy is like, a total buzz kill in the best way.” She sighed, leaning her busty body up against the nervous woman. “Look at her, so frigid. I thought ladies lost every fuck they had to give by your age.”

“Um, well…”

“I mean, you’re actin’ like a little virgin! You’re not, right?”

“Of course not! I was happily married for several years…” Daisy fiddled with the ring around her finger, “But that isn’t something to discuss in polite company.”

I snorted at that, and Candy outright laughed. 

“Me? Polite company?” She giggled, “Aw, sugar. You’re too kind. You should get Michael to set you up an online dating profile, get out there. I mean, you have had one cock in your entire life. That’s nothing, honey.”

Daisy squeaked indignantly. “It’s plenty! A respectable number.”

“Respectable? Who cares about respectability these days? Those days of virgins being prized and only going to bed after marriage are long gone, flower girl.”

Daisy just sighed sadly and fiddled with her ring. “I know…”

Candy seemed to realise she’d gone too far and tried to backtrack.

“It’s not so bad, I just want you to get out there, hun, Beatrice is always saying we have to get out of our comfort zones!”
“That’s easy for you to say.” Daisy snapped, “Nothing makes you uncomfortable.”

Candy bit her lip, and I sighed; catfights were way sexier in videos and films. In real life, they were just sad. 

“Come on, Candy, I’ll walk you out.” Candy gave me an apologetic look as she left, and I closed the door with a sigh. I really missed being a guy sometimes, then I could excuse myself and walk away from this whole situation. Daisy looked up at me, and my guts squirmed; I hated talking about my own feelings, let alone somebody else's. But if I didn’t, she was going to start blubbering all over my couch, or worse, just start talking, and I would be forced to listen because this was my own damn apartment and I couldn’t just leave!

“Um…” 

Daisy looked at me, and I realised I hadn’t planned past that first sound. Whoever cursed me could have at least given me some of those feminine instincts to use!

“I…need to make a call.”

I half ran to my room at the end of the hall and shut the door before dialling Beatrice in a panic. 

“Hello?”

“Bea? Hi, it’s Michael, um, Daisy and Candy sort of had…not an argument but a misunderstanding and now Daisy is sad and in my house so…could you talk to her?”

There was silence at the end of the line for a moment before Beatrice laughed. It was warm and motherly and brought an embarrassed blush to my cheeks. I felt like a kid having to ask their mother for help unscrewing a bottle top. 

“Michael, you saw it. I think you should talk to her about it. She’s your roommate after all.”

“Only because she had nowhere to go, and I’m not an asshole! I still don’t know her all that well.”

“Time to fix that, then.”

“If this is some sort of lesson, I really don't appreciate it.” I huffed.

“Students rarely do…at the time.”

I hit the hang-up button without saying goodbye. Childish, maybe, but it felt good. I huffed again and looked around the four walls of my room. I could stay in here for a few hours, long enough for me to at least have an excuse to avoid talking about it. But that made me feel oddly guilty. Daisy really was a little lost lamb in a lot of ways. The memory of her big blue eyes made me sigh with defeat. If I did much more heavy breathing, I was at risk of starting a yoga routine. 

Reluctantly, I returned to the living room to find Daisy exactly where I left her, fiddling with that gold band around her finger. 

“Sorry, I know she’s a lot, but when she’s around women, at least she isn't feeling forced to have sex.” I apologised. “Um, tea?”

Daisy smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. “That would be lovely.”

I didn’t understand tea, coffee at least, had a purpose, but I fixed her a cup from the bags she’d bought anyway. She took a deep sip, and then it was her turn to sigh. 

“I know. It’s not Candy’s fault she’s a…what is the word?”

“Bimbo?”
“...I don’t think I will repeat it.” 

She took the tea but didn’t drink it; instead, she continued to fiddle with her ring, and I felt a pang of sympathy.

“Do you miss him? Your husband, I mean?”

“Oh, well, yes, I suppose,” Daisy replied. “He was a good provider. Worked very hard. Never beat me like some of my lady friends. Truly a gentleman, he was. And very easy to please.”

An uneasy feeling formed in my stomach. When she said it like that…he didn’t seem like much. Especially considering she spent most of her life with him. 

“That seems like the bare minimum you could ask for.” Daisy gave me a shocked look, and I winced, “That…sounded less rude in my head.”

“Well, in those days, a kind husband who was a good provider, willing to stay with you even after you’re proven barren…was a miracle. He was a very kind man, really. No temper, so long as the house was cleaned and I cooked him a good three meals, he never complained.”

Sort of like me, I realised guiltily, except I do complain even if it is just in my head. 

“Maybe you should set me up on one of those dating websites.” Daisy said finally, “I’m going to need to find another husband after all. I know it’s different these days, but I am sure I can find a nice man who is happy to have a woman keep house for him.”

Something about the way she said that made my skin crawl, and my blood boil a little.

“You have a second chance at life, and you’re seriously going to do the same thing again? Just…find a guy who will look after you and that’s that?”

“What other choice do I have?” Daisy cried, “I can barely use my phone or the internet. I wasn’t built for this time period! I didn’t have any training, I don’t have any skills to find a job…If I am ever going to get off your couch, it will need to be because I have landed a nice man. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

She sniffled, and a tear rolled down her cheek and dripped into her teacup. For the first time, I felt a pang of sympathy for her. This whole time, I thought she’d hit the jackpot getting a second go at life. What old person didn't want to be twenty again? But hearing that made me realise how hard it must have been. To be in your golden years, struggling to understand modern life, accepting that your best years were behind you and that most of your friends passed and soon you would be too, only for it all to get flipped on its head. 

Daisy had been kicked out of her retirement home, the place she’d planned to spend her final years, a place that still catered to her old world way of life. Now she was stuck in the big city without a clue where to go. 

“Did you ever want to be more than a housewife?” I asked before I could stop myself. 

Daisy froze for a moment and thought.

“It’s been such a long time since anybody asked me that.” She laughed sadly, “Well…when I was younger…I was quite enamoured with the idea of banking.”

Of course, she was.

“Banking?”

“Numbers were always my specialty; nobody could budget better than me.” She sat up proudly, “My first husband used to work at a branch, and I used to think…it was silly, but I used to think I could run it better.”

I thought about how she broke down the shopping list and managed to somehow shave ten dollars off the money I gave her to get everything, and smiled. 

“You know, I bet you could. So why don't you?”

“How would I even start? You don’t just walk in and become a bank manager!”

“Beatrice had a bunch of flyers she gave me…why don't you look at going to school and getting a job. You have a second chance, sure, it’s not what you wanted, but it's something.”

Daisy blinked at me, then turned a deep shade of pink. 

“I…I never even considered anything different for myself. I suppose I was a bit stuck in my ways…thank you. I might just do that.”

I grinned; the awkward feeling was gone, replaced with a gentle warmth. It felt nice, helping Daisy like that. Maybe living with her didn’t have to be quite so awkward after all. 

~

“And then, the lady had the gall to try and make it a both sides issue, when clearly I am in the right.”

“You weren’t! And this is why three marriage counsellors have dropped us!”

My eyes had glazed over, yet another meeting (I couldn't really avoid them with Daisy living with me), and it had turned into an impromptu marriage counselling session for Sherri and Terri. Daisy had gotten up to talk for once and breathlessly told us all about the new bookkeeping and accounting class she’s signed up for, and then the ever-bickering couple had stolen the floor. I’d never been so keen for a meeting to end. 

Candy met my eye across the circle and put a finger gun to her head and pulled the trigger, making me snicker until Beatrice gave us both a glare. When the meeting finally ended, Candy draped herself over me dramatically.

“Gods, that was awful. I need a drink. Bar?

“Are you sure a bar is the right place for you?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, I won't get home till the wee hours, and I’ll probably have a man with me, but after listening to those two bitch for half an hour, I could use a good dicking.”

Beatrice sighed heavily as she walked past us. “Candy, I know you can’t help it, but could you at least not lean into it so hard? The language is getting out of control.”

“Just telling it like it is.” Candy grabbed my arm, “Come on! We’re going drinking, and we’re going to find you a man, too.”

I didn’t know it was possible to blush so deeply. 

“M-me? Oh no, I'm straight, I mean, I like women.”

Candy raised an eyebrow. “Uh…”

“I am a straight man stuck in a woman’s body!”

“A hot, fit Asian body.” Candy bit her lip and looked me up and down. “Come on, don’t you wanna test it out. Did you give the ol’ self love a try?”

“T-t-that’s none of your business!”

“That’s a yes.”

“Candy!”
“That’s what he said.”

I growled in frustration, and Candy tossed her blonde hair back with a laugh and slung her arm over my shoulders. “You look stressed, let’s get a drink.”

~

The place Candy dragged me to smelled faintly of citrus and spilled beer. Candy looked like she belonged; all glossy lips, perfect hair, and breasts that drew eyes like moths to a flame.

She leaned against the counter, laughing too loudly at something the bartender said, tossing her hair back and thrusting out that chest of hers. Every few minutes, some guy would drift over, half-hypnotized, and Candy would smile that slow, lazy smile of hers that promised everything and nothing at once.

Meanwhile, I sat there with my half-finished mojito, feeling like a piece of background furniture and unsure how to feel about it. I didn’t want the attention of men, but the last few weeks of being unable to get off had left me antsy. 

“Come on,” Candy said, nudging me with her elbow. “You can’t just sit there all night watching me have fun. Smile at someone. Give them a little something.”

I laughed awkwardly. “I don’t think I’m the ‘little something’ type.”

“Oh, please. You just need to stop thinking so hard. It’s not about marrying them. It’s just… fun.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead I looked down into my drink. The mint leaves floated lazily around the ice cubes. I told myself I didn’t care, but there was this quiet, unwelcome twinge in my chest watching her. Jealousy, maybe. Or longing. I wasn’t sure which. Either way, it was wrong. I was a man; breasts and hips be damned. I wasn’t about to throw myself at another man. 

Candy’s urges got the best of her, and she wound her hand around a man’s tie, pulling him close. A few whispers later, she gave me a wink and disappeared into the crowd, probably off for a quickie in the alley. I contemplated just heading home, but then someone sat down on the empty stool beside me.

“Hey there. Mind if I join you?”

I glanced over; a man with a kind smile, broad shoulders and sleeves rolled to his elbows. He wasn’t as flashy as the guys fawning over Candy, but something about him made my pulse jump anyway.

“Sure,” I said, surprised by how easily the word came out.

He asked what I was drinking, then joked about mojitos being “dangerously refreshing.” I giggled, an actual, unforced girly giggle, and suddenly I was leaning in, answering, teasing back. It felt strange, like trying on someone else’s clothes and realising they fit better than expected. Maybe Candy had a point. Maybe flirting wasn’t just for girls like her. Maybe it could be for me, too.

I let the man, James, buy me another drink. After that, I let him rest his hands on my knee and tried to ignore the growing warmth between my legs. I told myself it was just flirting, mixed with the sexual repression of living with a grandma, but the more liquid courage I downed, the easier it was to ignore that voice and lean in a little closer. So when James asked if I wanted to go with him to another bar, I leaned in…and said yes.