Japanese Race Change - Hostess Himari

A soft chorus of bells chimed above Lance’s head as he shut the restaurant’s door behind him. A sea of faces stared back, staring at him blankly. Each patron’s conversation had swiftly muted, chopsticks frozen in front of them as they watched him, wordlessly. Despite the lack of expressions, Lance knew exactly what the men and women enjoying their lunch were thinking of him. He didn’t feel welcome. A part of him was tempted to mumble out an apology and head back through the door, pretending he was a lost tourist.

The Japanese restaurant was the latest in a glut of new businesses in Lance’s town. Uncountable fast-food restaurants had opened up, but this restaurant had felt different. He had heard rumours of a new Japanese place that served incredible food, and from how busy the restaurant was he knew he wasn’t mistaken. Lance had tried to search for the place online but could find nothing. Even the name of the place was a mystery – a bright neon sign in indecipherable kanji was the only clue he had.

The patrons were still staring, a thick, weighty silence palpable over the tinkling of traditional Japanese music and the hiss of cooking from the kitchen.

“Would you like to take a seat?” a woman said, emerging from round the corner of the room. She was middle aged, though Lance had always found it hard to tell with Asian women. She smiled at him brilliantly, gesturing to a small set of tables and chairs near to the door he had just walked through. The woman wore a deep blue kimono, the fabric decorated with tiny cherry blossoms that shined brilliantly in the soft lighting.

“Sure…” Lance mumbled, sitting down. The woman slowly began to walk over to him with measured steps. Lance noticed the empty chair opposite him and felt an intense embarrassment – was he the only person eating here alone? As he looked around the room, he noticed another source for his worry. He was the only person there who wasn’t Asian. Lance knew he wasn’t racist, but in a room full of people with a completely different culture, he suddenly became nervous about his cultural norms. What would happen if he was accidentally disrespectful? Would they laugh at him if he needed to use a knife and fork instead of the traditional chopsticks he noticed every other customer using with ease?

“Here is your menu, Sir”, the hostess repeated, holding the leather-bound menu out to him. The surface was etched with bright gold kanji, which Lance assumed to be the name of the restaurant. It looked vaguely similar to the sign he had seen outside. The man took it, managing a weak smile.

“Sorry”, he said with a yawn. “Just been tired recently, I’m a bit out of it…” he said, his voice trailing off.

“Perhaps we can find something to wake you up?” the hostess said. Her English was good, but even Lance could tell she wasn’t a native speaker. Her heavy Japanese accent punctuated each syllable. Lance opened up the menu and flicked through a few pages. As his worn eyes focused, he realised it wasn’t just his tiredness that was making it difficult to read. The entire menu was in Japanese. “Oh, I’m so sorry Sir!” the hostess said. “I’m sorry, but I do not think we have an English menu yet”, she continued, quickly glancing to the kitchen. “You’re the first local we have had in here in a while.”

“What would you recommend?” Lance asked vaguely, gesturing his hand over the kanji as though he had any idea what it said.

“It’s all good!” the hostess said, grinning. Lance could believe it. Now that he was settled in his seat, he could smell the rich scents of meat and rice filling the room. Lance pointed at the first thing on the menu.

“What about this? What is it?” he asked.

“That’s our sushi platter! Very popular”, the hostess said.

“Is it authentic?” Lance asked. If he was going to try and eat Japanese food, he wanted to make sure it was the right stuff.

“Of course! As authentic as it gets.”

“Great, I’ll have that then”, he said, handing the menu back.

“A fantastic choice, Sir! It’ll be perfect for you!” she hostess said, bowing politely and heading to the kitchen.

Mercifully, the conversations had by now started up again so that Lance was not left entirely alone with his thoughts. Though he wasn’t able to understand the language being spoken all around him, the murmuring discussions and jokes being spread around him was oddly relaxing and helped put him at ease. Surprisingly quickly, the hostess returned with a platter of sushi and laid it on the table before him with another polite bow. Lance had only had sushi before on a handful of occasions, and never anything that looked as good as this. Thick, juicy fish was wrapped up in rice and seaweed, small rolls almost identical in their structure, arranged in perfect strips of four. The hostess placed a small bowl of soy sauce down, delicately positioned a pair of chopsticks in front of him.

“Do you want me to tell you what everything is, or do you want to work it out yourself?” she asked, thin lips curling in a smile. Lance looked across the platter. He could recognise some of the food in front of him, the rich red flesh of salmon, the small dollops of wasabi, but most of it was unknown. Usually, Lance wasn’t experimental with his diet, but something was pushing him to be more curious this lunchtime.

“I think I’ll give it a go”, he said, determined.

“Very good! I’ll swing by later and see how you turn out!” the hostess said, heading away from his table to look after her other customers.

Looking down at the platter, Lance suddenly realised how hungry he was. He grabbed the chopsticks eagerly, but in his haste they tumbled noisily to the polished tabletop, drawing more disapproving glances from the other patrons. Meekly, Lance made another attempt, the implements feeling clumsy in his hands. He grabbed the nearest bit of sushi, looking like some sort of tuna wrapped with avocado. Lance gracelessly dipped it in the soy sauce, the dark liquid splashing onto the tabletop. When he finally fumbled the food into his mouth, the taste was divine.

It was more delicious than any sushi Lance had had previously. Freshly prepared, the rich, earthy taste of the tuna mixing with the avocado was divine. As Lance took a moment to savour the morsel, his body began to change. Underneath his clothing, slowly his skin began to soften. The light brown hair that once grew in a thick beard from his chin receded with an unthinking scratch, immediately making him look younger. Across the rest of his body, his hair vanished, except for a dainty patch just above his genitals. Lance’s skin was left sensitive and unblemished. Lance didn’t notice the change, even with the absence of food clinging to his beard and moved onto the next bit of sushi.

He found the chopsticks easier to hold this time, the two small wooden sticks fitting more comfortably into his hands. Delighted at the sudden increase in his dexterity, Lance dipped another roll into the soy and quickly shoved it into his mouth which soon broke open in a smile. The salmon nigiri was brilliant, smooth and crisp in its flavour. As Lance chewed, the weight across his body began to fade away. The bulk in his shoulders vanished in a painless click, soon followed by his hips which forced Lance to adjust in the comfortable seat. Any lingering muscle in beneath his soft skin diminished, leaving him weaker, but also far thinner. Some fat still clung around his waist, giving the man subtle curves. Lance paid the changes no mind, engrossed in his sushi treat.

As he reached for another roll, the chopsticks felt perfect to him, almost more comfortable than the western knife and fork that he was used to. He clicked the two together satisfyingly, watching a small drip of soy fall down onto the platter as he lingered above his next bite. Lance’s hands had shrunken to match his smaller frame, delicate nails now in place of his worn and chipped ones. He grabbed another roll and continued his meal.

Lance soon fell into a rhythm, taking his time to enjoy each mouthful and respect the food, rather than just cramming fast food into his face like he was used to. Something stirred deep within the man, and he felt a wave of peace washing over him. Unaware, Lance didn’t feel as his vest shifted into a soft silk, no longer loose fitting over his smaller body. Within moments, it had reformed into a small bra, the cups empty, tiny clasps hooking themselves over his shoulders. There was a sudden breeze of the air conditioning on Lance’s now exposed chest and he pulled his shirt closer around him, subconsciously layering the left side over the right. As he settled down to eat once more, the fabric shifted, both in material and colour. His red shirt faded lighter and lighter until it was a soft pink, soon decorated by blooming patterns of flowers. His belt sprung magically from his jeans, wrapping tight across his body in a sash that Lance knew immediately as an obi. The fabric grew longer, merging seamlessly with Lance’s jeans which soon restructured, joining the kimono as one continuous piece of clothing. Lance could feel the odd sensation of his slim legs touching each other, but barely took notice. The sushi was too good to focus on anything else.

As he picked up another piece of sushi, he glanced over at the spare menu on the side of the table. The kanji that had once been illegible for him was now far easier to process, and Lance found that he was able to understand the meaning behind each tiny marking. Lance read over the other options, even voicing them aloud as the language became clearer and clearer in his brain. His voice was slowly shifting higher, his regular accent fading as the Japanese pronunciation came more naturally to his changing self. Continuing to read, Lance didn’t notice the continuing physical changes.

Lance’s face warped, losing the jawline that had once characterised his broad, masculine face. His cheekbones rose higher, his nose shrinking, and his eyebrows becoming perfectly plucked. His lips softened into a delicate smile as he found the once strange language more and more enjoyable to read. Soon, he didn’t look like Lance at all, now a beacon of femininity. Finally, an epicanthic fold appeared in each of his eyes, giving him the face of a young, beautiful Japanese woman. With a gentle tease of makeup appearing across his pale skin, Lance’s face was complete.

From his once bald scalp, thick black hair began to grow, shimmering in the light of the restaurant. Soon, it was bursting out in dark lines, perfectly framing Lance’s new face. Without knowing how, Lance found himself quickly tying it up out of his way, perfectly bound in a tight bun behind his small head.

Lance’s cotton socks crept slowly higher up his legs, and a split- toe formed. The soles of his simple boots transformed into polished lacquered wood, the leather quickly reforming into two bands to fit perfectly into his new socks.

Underneath the silken layers of the kimono, two small mounds began to form on Lance’s chest, slowly pressing into the soft fabric of the bra. Soon, two breasts were present: soft and sensitive. Finally, beneath the kimono, Lance’s boxes shifted into a dainty pair of silky panties, his manhood swiftly shrinking and reforming into a vagina.

The woman blinked rapidly, looking over her empty platter of sushi. She felt that something was odd, but wasn’t able to place it. A woman she somehow recognised walked over to her, wearing a blue kimono.

“Himari, your lunch break is almost over. Are you ready to get back to work?” she asked in perfect Japanese. The young woman, Himari, nodded, understanding completely. A wave of memories washed over her. She was Himari and had moved here from Japan with her parents. She would help out hosting in their restaurant to improve her English skills. She stood up from the table with a smile and headed to the door, ready to greet the next customer.

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A quick little race change commission! I hope you enjoy it.