"Ashes of the Keyblade: Tale of Shattered Identity into an Office Lady"
1 Points
In the boundless expanse of the cosmos, where worlds often entangled in the threads of fate and fantasy, Sora had faced myriad creatures of darkness, fought battles that defied comprehension, and traversed lands beyond imagining. But nothing could have prepared him for the sheer bewilderment and helplessness of this impending ordeal.
"Donald? Goofy?" Sora called, his voice laden with urgency and confusion. He stood alone amid the labyrinthine landscape of distorted light and shadow, the vibrant colors and familiar contours of the Kingdom Hearts universe warping into an unfamiliar amalgam of grays and muted hues.
A wave of vertigo overwhelmed him. His hands reached out instinctively, grasping at air that seemed to solidify and dissolve in erratic pulses. The solid ground beneath him shifted, morphed, then vanished entirely, replaced with the cold sterility of a tiled floor.
"No, this isn't...," he muttered incredulously, panic threading through his words. Suddenly, his signature Keyblade, the instrument of light, felt heavy and distant, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.
The changes began subtly, almost imperceptibly. Sora’s body elongated, growing taller, his boyish limbs transforming into those of an adult. His beloved black v-neck t-shirt and shorts with red straps dissolved, replaced by the constricting fabric of a dark women’s jacket and a light pink blouse half-buttoned over a curvaceous torso. He felt an unfamiliar weight on his chest, and his heart pounded in wild disbelief.
"This isn't real!" he cried, his voice breaking, higher and softer than before.
The reality around him continued its inexorable shift. Sora’s spiky hair fell, straightening and curling into a small, well-kept ponytail. His hands, once rugged from countless battles, now bore long, curved fingernails painted crimson. He flexed his fingers, the sensation alien and wrong.
"Sora?" he felt himself questioning in a voice that was not his own. Resonant, mature, undeniably feminine.
No! He fought against the encroaching thoughts, the identity that was not his. He was Sora! He wielded the Keyblade! He was brave, heroic—a defender of the light.
Yet, in the corners of his mind, the name "Itou-san" whispered insistently. Memories that were not his began flooding in—an office, colleagues, mundane tasks of an ordinary life. Sora felt his resolve crumbling. Images of spreadsheets, office hierarchy charts, late-night conversations over sake with Kiara Kobayashi filled the space once occupied by gummy ships and heartless enemies.
"Where am I? What is happening?" He clutched at his head, trying desperately to hold on to his true self. But the onslaught was relentless.
His shoes became black heels, fixing him firmly in a life that was now reality. His gray irises softened into chestnut-brown, and his vision blurred momentarily before glasses manifested on his face.
"I have... work to do?" His voice quavered, the statement falsely his own. He shook his head violently, tears of frustration marring his vision.
Yet Itou-san's personality was insistent, invasive. She was almost forty, a diligent and meticulous office lady with a history, responsibilities, and emotions all her own. The strain of constant discipline left marks on her face, and though she tried to cover it with makeup, the truth of age was evident.
"No! I can't forget!" Sora's last cry was swallowed by the complete subsumption of Itou-san's identity.
In her reflection, a tall, curvaceous Japanese woman stared back, adjusting her glasses with a practiced hand. Itou-san blinked, smoothing down her jacket and skirt subconsciously.
"Late again, Itou-san?" A familiar voice cut into her reverie. Kiara Kobayashi, her ever-youthful and vibrant coworker, stood at her desk, arms crossed with a teasing smile.
"Oh, Kiara," Itou-san sighed, a mixture of fondness and exasperation in her voice. She had known Kiara for years, supervising her, guiding her, occasionally scolding her. Kiara was a handful, but endearing.
"Coffee's on me today," Itou-san added, her mind fully settled into her reality, the name Sora a distant echo long drowned by the responsibilities and memories of a life she had always known.
The world of Kingdom Hearts had dissolved completely, its magic and whimsy replaced with the humdrum rhythm of an ordinary office. Here, Itou-san navigated tasks with as much grace as she once wielded the Keyblade—only that blade was now a distant dream, forgotten in the corridors of an altered existence.
This story was generated by user Fizzarolli-Attack-2 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
AI Prompts
Prompt: Write the transformation story of Sora (in his outfit from Kingdom Hearts 3) from the Kingdom Hearts game series turning into the Japanese office lady named Itou-san (from the mundane real life), complete with reality change (the world of Kingdom Hearts warping and turning into the real world) gender change, age progression (becoming almost 40 years old), height progression, and mind/mental change (with Sora's personality and memories being completely replaced with an office lady's personality and memories, despite Sora's best efforts on fighting off his new memories/personality, making him, now her, completely forget she was ever a boy named Sora and remembered that she has always been an office lady, being basically a babysitter to her office friend Kiara Kobayashi (who is also an office lady), and she herself being named Itou-san). For Sora's appearance, he is a 15 year old boy who wears a black v-neck t-shirt with white hemming, black shorts with gray pockets like Dream Drop Distance held on by red straps similar to Kingdom Hearts II. Unlike previous outfits, his shorts are tight around his calves. He wears a longer black hooded jacket with red hemming, gray pockets with white hemming, and red flannel flaps that are held down by a series of yellow buttons. His shoes have the opposite color scheme of Dream Drop Distance with the ankle and tongue of the shoe folded down, and a single black strap. His gray fingerless gloves come to a v on his hands and are just short of his elbow. The gloves have red hemming, a yellow strap around the wrist, and a silver circle plate on the back of the hand like in Kingdom Hearts. His hair is significantly shorter and less spiky (although it is still spiky), and he continues to wear his signature crown necklace. Like most typical heroes, Sora is brave and heroic, impulsively risking his own life for people he doesn't know and is loyal to a fault. Despite everything that he has endured throughout his journey, Sora retains his upbeat and optimistic attitude. He shows little tolerance for cowardice and selfishness but is ultimately forgiving of those that are sorry for their actions. Sora has a remarkable capacity to forgive, even to those who have harmed him and his friends. For Itou's appearance (after Sora turned into her), she is a tall, curvaceous, Japanese adult woman, standing at 5.7 feet tall. She also has long, curved fingernails with crimson nail polish (she does not have gloves, unlike Sora). Her chest is essentially larger than a pair of DD cups, and she has feminine parts rather than masculine ones. She has a small brown ponytail behind her and spiraling down the right side of her face. Her lips are plump with dark red lipsticks that are meant to promote her maturity and steal attention away from the amount of makeup she’d used to make her face look younger. She has a mole beneath her right lip, almost pairing with the emergency of one on her face -- however that one is beneath her left eye. She wears a pair of glasses, since she cannot see without glasses. She has typical chestnut-brown irises in her eyes, and she has thick black eyelashes. She accessorizes with a dark women’s jacket and dark skirt that hugs her pelvis and thighs loosely with a slit on either side exposing much of her thighs. The skirt also extends up to her stomach, hiding beneath the woman's jacket. She also has a light pink blouse that is only halfway buttoned up. She also has a pair of dark thigh highs with a lace trim that stopped just below the skirt, covering them while likewise being translucent enough for them to be on full display. Her small feet have a pair of black heels. Itou is almost forty and so her age was a sensitive subject. She couldn’t deny that it had an effect on how she treats the younger hires though, and considering her history with Kiara Kobayashi (whom she is a superior to) maybe she is being a little too harsh. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
Response: In the boundless expanse of the cosmos, where worlds often entangled in the threads of fate and fantasy, Sora had faced myriad creatures of darkness, fought battles that defied comprehension, and traversed lands beyond imagining. But nothing could have prepared him for the sheer bewilderment and helplessness of this impending ordeal. "Donald? Goofy?" Sora called, his voice laden with urgency and confusion. He stood alone amid the labyrinthine landscape of distorted light and shadow, the vibrant colors and familiar contours of the Kingdom Hearts universe warping into an unfamiliar amalgam of grays and muted hues. A wave of vertigo overwhelmed him. His hands reached out instinctively, grasping at air that seemed to solidify and dissolve in erratic pulses. The solid ground beneath him shifted, morphed, then vanished entirely, replaced with the cold sterility of a tiled floor. "No, this isn't...," he muttered incredulously, panic threading through his words. Suddenly, his signature Keyblade, the instrument of light, felt heavy and distant, as if it belonged to someone else entirely. The changes began subtly, almost imperceptibly. Sora’s body elongated, growing taller, his boyish limbs transforming into those of an adult. His beloved black v-neck t-shirt and shorts with red straps dissolved, replaced by the constricting fabric of a dark women’s jacket and a light pink blouse half-buttoned over a curvaceous torso. He felt an unfamiliar weight on his chest, and his heart pounded in wild disbelief. "This isn't real!" he cried, his voice breaking, higher and softer than before. The reality around him continued its inexorable shift. Sora’s spiky hair fell, straightening and curling into a small, well-kept ponytail. His hands, once rugged from countless battles, now bore long, curved fingernails painted crimson. He flexed his fingers, the sensation alien and wrong. "Sora?" he felt himself questioning in a voice that was not his own. Resonant, mature, undeniably feminine. No! He fought against the encroaching thoughts, the identity that was not his. He was Sora! He wielded the Keyblade! He was brave, heroic—a defender of the light. Yet, in the corners of his mind, the name "Itou-san" whispered insistently. Memories that were not his began flooding in—an office, colleagues, mundane tasks of an ordinary life. Sora felt his resolve crumbling. Images of spreadsheets, office hierarchy charts, late-night conversations over sake with Kiara Kobayashi filled the space once occupied by gummy ships and heartless enemies. "Where am I? What is happening?" He clutched at his head, trying desperately to hold on to his true self. But the onslaught was relentless. His shoes became black heels, fixing him firmly in a life that was now reality. His gray irises softened into chestnut-brown, and his vision blurred momentarily before glasses manifested on his face. "I have... work to do?" His voice quavered, the statement falsely his own. He shook his head violently, tears of frustration marring his vision. Yet Itou-san's personality was insistent, invasive. She was almost forty, a diligent and meticulous office lady with a history, responsibilities, and emotions all her own. The strain of constant discipline left marks on her face, and though she tried to cover it with makeup, the truth of age was evident. "No! I can't forget!" Sora's last cry was swallowed by the complete subsumption of Itou-san's identity. In her reflection, a tall, curvaceous Japanese woman stared back, adjusting her glasses with a practiced hand. Itou-san blinked, smoothing down her jacket and skirt subconsciously. "Late again, Itou-san?" A familiar voice cut into her reverie. Kiara Kobayashi, her ever-youthful and vibrant coworker, stood at her desk, arms crossed with a teasing smile. "Oh, Kiara," Itou-san sighed, a mixture of fondness and exasperation in her voice. She had known Kiara for years, supervising her, guiding her, occasionally scolding her. Kiara was a handful, but endearing. "Coffee's on me today," Itou-san added, her mind fully settled into her reality, the name Sora a distant echo long drowned by the responsibilities and memories of a life she had always known. The world of Kingdom Hearts had dissolved completely, its magic and whimsy replaced with the humdrum rhythm of an ordinary office. Here, Itou-san navigated tasks with as much grace as she once wielded the Keyblade—only that blade was now a distant dream, forgotten in the corridors of an altered existence.
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