Story 9 Part 1
Author's note: This is a work of fiction. This story does not take place in the same world as my earlier stories.
I awoke finding myself breathing heavily. I had a dream where I was helplessly falling from the sky and hit the ground of the courtyard next to my apartment, which woke me up. The details as to where I fell from or why I was falling escaped me faded away the more awake I felt.
My name is Ichinomiya. I live by myself in a house that is as average you can get in the middle of Tokyo. This house belonged to mum before she married dad and moved to Sapporo, where I grew up, but mum never sold the house. She drops by if she has some business here or further west of the country. She does come here to use the Tokyo airports to travel out of the country if she can't book a direct flight from Sapporo, which only has flights to cities of surrounding countries.
I moved here from Tokyo for university studies after high school. I wouldn't say I did well, but I stayed on as I know that there are better job opportunities than back in Sapporo. I worked as a deliveryman, not the kind of job you'd be proud to announce to everyone, but at least it's better than my last job. I don't want to indulge in the details of what it was, but the amount of standing at the same spot all day just bores me.
As to what I do on a typical working day, I would head to the office to start the day, collecting the things to deliver. As to what exactly I'm delivering, I wouldn't know what it is apart from what is printed on the packaging or in my company's database, which can be vague or incorrect. Only ones that stand out are those requiring special handling. By that, it can just mean handling delicately, or handle normally but be aware should the contents inside leak.
Among the places I deliver to, private hospitals or research labs have the most interesting-looking delivery places. Most of the items marked as requiring special care, that isn't fragile, would usually be delivered to these kinds of places, or be picked up from there. Without knowing what exactly I'm delivering, I can only guess medicine research that the general public would never hear the results of, or resulting in the many tried-but-failed attempts to improve something that can be as sensitive as the small variances in conditions.
The rest of the special handling goods are usually addressed to offices or shops, but what had me leaving puzzled were residential address among them. I couldn't tell from the address until I looked up on the map to deliver, though some areas are mixed enough to be hard to tell. I hope they know what they are doing with this that's special enough to be marked as special handling, because I can't tell what goes on inside from the front door.
One night, somethings odd has been reported in the news. A middle-aged male celebrity had randomly turned into a young office lady in the middle of an entertainment show recording in front of everyone, including the audience and other celebrities. Her new office clothes appeared over the t-shirt and beach shorts she was wearing. This was the first publicly known transformation.
Nobody thought about examining her further at first until she complained that she couldn't take off her clothes, which forced her to shower with her clothes on and feeling horrible from having wet clothes on her. She also complained that she was unable to use the toilet as no matter how hard she tried to relief herself, her body just simply refused to respond. Her full bladder was a mental torture to be able to think or do anything but lie down in agony. She was very confused as to what to do until she called for the doctor.
At the hospital, doctors found something strange about the celebrity's transformed body when they tried to take off her clothes to put her in the hospital gown: all but her blouse and skirt could be taken off or cut away, as if these are infused as part of her body. Her skirt was missing fasteners and only loose enough to tuck her blouse in and out. The buttons on the blouse are strangely on the opposite side (same side as dress shirts for men), and could open only as much as exposing her front, not allowing space to pull out her arm.
Doctors first examined her bottom. They discovered she has nothing but skin indistinguishable from the surrounding area at where her bladder outlet should be, like a skin-covered mannequin. This confused the doctors, as they saw no possible way for anything to leave her body except back through her nose and mouth, so they contacted their higher ups as to what to do.
Seemingly as if their higher ups were familiar with the situation, they suggested the suction machine that had just arrived from headquarters. They don't see how that would work, but saw no alternative beside operation. They pulled it out and placed the cups over her breasts. Immediately, the girl felt relieved as her bladder left her body, like a burdern she had for so long finally gone. To tell that emptying is complete, bladder is replaced with breast milk. The machine would detect this milk and stop automatically, though it can be stopped anytime before that. Doctors had a sigh of relief that their problem was solved, but yet confused at how aything that just happened was even possible.
The celebrity was happy with the help of her unusual situation, but was sad to find out that she can't do it on her own without that machine. To this day, she is still a celebrity, but not quite the same as she was.
However, the celebrity wasn't the first person to be transformed. The higher ups the doctors contacted were conducting experiments on people at their secret facility that produced the same results, but with variations on what clothes appear on them. The higher ups didn't know how that celebrity changed when they made sure it was well guarded and no leaking of infomation or samples, but little did they know that it was spreading through ways they never thought of.
*****
I awoke finding myself breathing heavily. I had a dream where I was helplessly falling from the sky and hit the ground of the courtyard next to my apartment, which woke me up. The details as to where I fell from or why I was falling escaped me faded away the more awake I felt.
My name is Ichinomiya. I live by myself in a house that is as average you can get in the middle of Tokyo. This house belonged to mum before she married dad and moved to Sapporo, where I grew up, but mum never sold the house. She drops by if she has some business here or further west of the country. She does come here to use the Tokyo airports to travel out of the country if she can't book a direct flight from Sapporo, which only has flights to cities of surrounding countries.
I moved here from Tokyo for university studies after high school. I wouldn't say I did well, but I stayed on as I know that there are better job opportunities than back in Sapporo. I worked as a deliveryman, not the kind of job you'd be proud to announce to everyone, but at least it's better than my last job. I don't want to indulge in the details of what it was, but the amount of standing at the same spot all day just bores me.
As to what I do on a typical working day, I would head to the office to start the day, collecting the things to deliver. As to what exactly I'm delivering, I wouldn't know what it is apart from what is printed on the packaging or in my company's database, which can be vague or incorrect. Only ones that stand out are those requiring special handling. By that, it can just mean handling delicately, or handle normally but be aware should the contents inside leak.
Among the places I deliver to, private hospitals or research labs have the most interesting-looking delivery places. Most of the items marked as requiring special care, that isn't fragile, would usually be delivered to these kinds of places, or be picked up from there. Without knowing what exactly I'm delivering, I can only guess medicine research that the general public would never hear the results of, or resulting in the many tried-but-failed attempts to improve something that can be as sensitive as the small variances in conditions.
The rest of the special handling goods are usually addressed to offices or shops, but what had me leaving puzzled were residential address among them. I couldn't tell from the address until I looked up on the map to deliver, though some areas are mixed enough to be hard to tell. I hope they know what they are doing with this that's special enough to be marked as special handling, because I can't tell what goes on inside from the front door.
*****
One night, somethings odd has been reported in the news. A middle-aged male celebrity had randomly turned into a young office lady in the middle of an entertainment show recording in front of everyone, including the audience and other celebrities. Her new office clothes appeared over the t-shirt and beach shorts she was wearing. This was the first publicly known transformation.
Nobody thought about examining her further at first until she complained that she couldn't take off her clothes, which forced her to shower with her clothes on and feeling horrible from having wet clothes on her. She also complained that she was unable to use the toilet as no matter how hard she tried to relief herself, her body just simply refused to respond. Her full bladder was a mental torture to be able to think or do anything but lie down in agony. She was very confused as to what to do until she called for the doctor.
At the hospital, doctors found something strange about the celebrity's transformed body when they tried to take off her clothes to put her in the hospital gown: all but her blouse and skirt could be taken off or cut away, as if these are infused as part of her body. Her skirt was missing fasteners and only loose enough to tuck her blouse in and out. The buttons on the blouse are strangely on the opposite side (same side as dress shirts for men), and could open only as much as exposing her front, not allowing space to pull out her arm.
Doctors first examined her bottom. They discovered she has nothing but skin indistinguishable from the surrounding area at where her bladder outlet should be, like a skin-covered mannequin. This confused the doctors, as they saw no possible way for anything to leave her body except back through her nose and mouth, so they contacted their higher ups as to what to do.
Seemingly as if their higher ups were familiar with the situation, they suggested the suction machine that had just arrived from headquarters. They don't see how that would work, but saw no alternative beside operation. They pulled it out and placed the cups over her breasts. Immediately, the girl felt relieved as her bladder left her body, like a burdern she had for so long finally gone. To tell that emptying is complete, bladder is replaced with breast milk. The machine would detect this milk and stop automatically, though it can be stopped anytime before that. Doctors had a sigh of relief that their problem was solved, but yet confused at how aything that just happened was even possible.
The celebrity was happy with the help of her unusual situation, but was sad to find out that she can't do it on her own without that machine. To this day, she is still a celebrity, but not quite the same as she was.
However, the celebrity wasn't the first person to be transformed. The higher ups the doctors contacted were conducting experiments on people at their secret facility that produced the same results, but with variations on what clothes appear on them. The higher ups didn't know how that celebrity changed when they made sure it was well guarded and no leaking of infomation or samples, but little did they know that it was spreading through ways they never thought of.
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