I awaken in a cold sweat after a night of… nightmares? I don’t even know if that is the right word. It’s not as if I was seeing terrifying visions or feeling creeping dread. Rather, I felt as though I were being pulled apart and crushed back together again, watching my limbs stretch and compress a hundred times a second while colors and sounds flashed through my eyes and ears. Painlessly, I must add, but still intensely alien and disconcerting.
The experience leaves me drained, physically and mentally, and all I can do for a moment is lay in bed, my eyes shut as the rising sun warms my face through the window. The tip of my nose twitches as the smell of something slightly toasty tickles the back of my nose, like steamed rice or toasted bread.
“Weird… I wonder who’s cooking…?” I murmur quietly as I let out a long, chirpy yawn and squeeze the soft, plush object between my arms, cuddling it close and-
“...What the fuck?” I nearly shout, my eyes flying open as I jolt up in bed and look around frantically. Held tight in my arms is a small, cuddly teddy bear, well-worn in some places. I let the soft toy fall down to the bed, a tiny twin-sized mattress covered in white cotton sheets and piled high with colorful, soft blankets that I find myself practically swimming in as I glance all around me at the room I’ve found myself in.
It is not my bedroom, or at least not the room I fell asleep in the night before. The walls are covered in cheery posters with big-eyed cartoon characters on them, a shelf along the wall is piled high with plastic models of robots and airplanes, and the floor scattered with toys, books, and discarded clothes.
It’s a kid’s room, for sure, but there was more to it than that. The writing on the cartoon posters, the names on the spines of the books, the numbers and words on the calendar hung on the wall, they weren’t in English. They almost look-
“Am I in… Asia?” I wonder, once again frowning at the high, scratchy voice coming from my mouth. I try to ignore it as I carefully untangle myself from my blankets and roll out of bed. I feel a bit wobbly on my feet, and I notice that everything seems much higher up than I remember it being. I step over to the nearest window, standing on my tip-toes to peer out and see a quiet street, with Asian-looking people already walking up and down the road despite the early time of day. “Japan, maybe… Is that city in the distance Tokyo?” I wonder as I begin to pace around the room, avoiding stepping on any toys on the ground as I ponder my situation.
But as soon as I spot my reflection in the mirror hung next to a small closet, I nearly fall over and I feel a chill down my spine. “No… Impossible…” I whimper as I slowly take a step toward the mirror, not believing what I see.
The young boy in the mirror looks to be about 9 or 10. With each step I take, he steps closer to the mirror too, his face also showing a look of complete disbelief and shock. His big, ever-so-slightly almond-shaped eyes are brown and wide, his thin but slightly pouty lips quivering. The boy’s skin is a creamy pale gold, without even the slightest blemish, and his tiny little nose slightly upturned in an adorable way.
“This is me…? I’m…” I say without even thinking. There’s only one possible word for what I am, and as the word hangs on my lips I feel myself burning with embarrassment.
“I’m fucking adorable.”
That’s the word, the one word few men (let alone boys) wants to be called, but it was undeniable. The boy in the mirror (I can’t yet bring myself to fully accept that it is me) is possibly the most humiliatingly, painfully sugar-sweet goddamn adorable little kid I’ve ever seen in my life. Dressed in a childishly cute hooded onesie made to look like a teddy bear, his round little face peeks out from a hood decorated with bear ears. His smooth black hair flops down over his eyes with just the right amount of bounce, his ears are perfectly shaped, his eyelashes are long and fluttery, and even his body language as I look at him in the mirror is playfully boyish and coy.
My hair. My ears. My eyelashes. My body.
I shake my head, trying to chase away the thoughts I’m having about this boy I’ve seemingly become. No, no, I tell myself. It’s not me, it’s just a body I’m in. I couldn’t be so sickeningly cute, and I’m certainly not a Japanese kid…
...Well, that’s all I can really tell myself for now.
Unable to look away, a thought occurs to me. This kid’s so cute… Am I even really sure they’re a boy? Perhaps the body I’ve been zapped halfway across the world into is a girl? It would explain why they’re so adorable, right?
But as I start to ponder this possibility, I glance down and feel the blood drain from my face. Nestled between my (no, his, I insist) legs is a huge, bulging lump that tents the front of the boy’s onesie in a flagrantly lewd way. Even under the loose fabric of the pajamas, the outline of a thick tube and two hanging orbs is clearly visible, bouncing gently with each little movement I make. Cautiously, I reach down and brush my tiny fingers across the massive bulge, my boyish voice letting out a mewling moan as a tingle of pleasure is felt at the base of my ground. Whatever’s under there is definitely mine and mine alone.
Against all odds, the most annoyingly adorable boy in all of Japan is packing the fattest, longest cock in the entire nation. And I’m that boy.
Most people would be thrilled at this turn of events (and, to be honest, I’m not saying I’m not a little enticed as well), but there’s just too many questions running through my head for me to be excited. How did this happen? Where the hell am I? And is there anyway back to my old life… Or rather, do I even care if I go back?