"Camera's Transfiguration: Becoming Kari Kamiya"
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The silver digital camera glints on your messy desk, light glimmering along the yellow cord. You don’t remember ever buying it, let alone setting it right next to your laptop. Curiosity tugs you from your chair. You pick up the camera. Cool metal, a cheerful yellow cord. Before you can twist it in your hands, a surge of compulsion urges you: **Wear it.**
It feels silly, and yet—click—the cord twines around your neck, the camera settling on your chest. Instantly, blinding light bursts from the lens, flooding your vision, swallowing the room. You squeeze your eyelids tight.
Your body buzzes—tingling, itching, your skin alive with almost ticklish energy. Your hands shrink, fingers thinning, palms narrowing. You try to jerk them free from the camera, but they only become softer, daintier. The world grows; the floor seems further away, the door frame higher. Your heart thuds in your ear, panic fluttering in your chest.
Your shirt melts into nothing, replaced by cool, soft fabric hugging your torso. Something presses your lower waist. Yellow shorts, warm against your hips. A cool metal belt buckle, snug but not uncomfortable. Your legs prickle as white socks slide up your shins and boots encase your feet. Your eyes dart to your arms—on your hands, smooth pink opera gloves cut at the palms, your tan, muscular arms replaced by slender, youthful limbs. At a glance, your chest swells, swelling beneath the soft white and pink of a sleeveless turtleneck, a slight but definite curve—breasts.
Instinctively, you reach down. Your heart seizes—a strange tightness, then the weirdest release, something deep within shifting, twisting. Your throat hums—softer, lighter, higher. You run a trembling hand down your new frame and then lower, over your stomach, further. Where there were once familiar parts, now only softness, the contour of a girl’s body. Your Adam’s apple is gone.
“No way. I’m—am I a girl?” you whisper, your voice clear and feminine, ricocheting through the air like a stranger’s.
“Yes,” a gentle, sure voice inside your mind answers. It is your own, yet not. “You’ve always been a girl.”
Your hair ripples, lengthening to brush your jaw, the left side clipped back. A silver camera bounces against your chest. Your reflection in the hallway mirror stares back—a brown-eyed, short-haired girl, delicate and vibrant, 4’6” tall, her face sweet and distinctly… anime? Your too-human features melt, eyes widening, outline sharpening, replaced by the unmistakable style from cartoons you watched as a kid.
A ripple runs down your spine. The room warps—the colors go bolder, textures smooth to simple strokes. The wall calendar morphs into Japanese kanji and photos of friends you don’t recognize. Outside, an unfamiliar city skyline rises, the world bathed in the soft, bright glow of a summer day in Tokyo.
You push your new chest, shivering, disoriented. “This… this isn’t right. My name is—” You clutch for the memory, lips shaping the syllables, but it slips away, dissolving. The presence in your mind pushes, gentle but firm.
“Kari.” The word echoes. “Kari Kamiya is your name. You are Kari. Remember?”
“No!” You shake your head, refusing, clawing for your old memories—your apartment, your job, your family. Each memory fogs, details blurring, sliding out of reach. Your voice falters as you try to call for your friends.
“Yolei? Tai…?” Names rise, unfamiliar and yet familiar.
You stagger, catching yourself against a bookshelf, and a flood of new memories crashes over you. Riding bikes with Tai, looking up to him as a kind of hero. Sitting beside Yolei, laughter bubbling from your lips—your lips—as you eat ice cream after school. Cool hands smoothing your hair when you are sick, stories of Digimon worlds and secrets only DigiDestined share.
*Don’t forget who you are,* the inner voice whispers. *You have always been Kari. It's your true life. Those old memories—they were only a strange, fading dream.*
You squeeze your eyes shut, voice trembling: “But—I was…I was—” You can’t even remember the word. The thought of “boy” tastes wrong now, like bitterness on your tongue. Why would you ever wish for that? You picture old male anatomy—a shiver of disgust, a jolt in your gut, and your mind recoils. Never. It never felt right.
A knock sounds on your bedroom door. "Kari? Are you ready?" It's Tai, voice warm and familiar, his presence filling the space with comfort and assurance. "Yolei and Davis are here. You promised!"
Your heart leaps—of course! The school trip, the photos you need to take, Gatomon waiting at the park. You swing the camera up, the weight perfect across your shoulder.
A faint ripple tickles your thoughts—an echo of that strange, unfitting dream. A life where you weren't Kari, where things were dull and incomplete. The feeling vanishes like mist in sunlight, a minor confusion. Why did that dream insist you weren’t who you truly are?
You bounce out of your room, calling, “Coming, Tai!” The warmth of your brother’s proud grin makes you smile; Yolei waves excitedly, her own Digivice clutched in her hand.
You catch your reflection one last time—short, bright, a perfect pink and yellow. Every inch of you feels right, real, and full of light. There’s nothing you’d give this up for. Kari Kamiya is you, always has been you, and everything else? A weird, gross, confusing dream.
You’d never want to be a boy. You can’t imagine anyone would.
Gatomon laces her tail around your ankle, purring, “Ready for adventure, Kari?”
You giggle, snapping her photo with your silver camera, “Always!”—feeling, at last, that you are exactly who you were always meant to be.
This story was generated by user DylanVsFizzarolli7 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 POV second-person transformation story of a male human reader turning into Kari Kamiya (in her outfit from Digimon Adventure 02 anime) from the Digimon Adventure anime series, complete with gender change (turning the reader from male to female), instant clothes change, age change, height regression (shrinking to 4.6 feet tall), art style shift (the reader's body changing from a real life-styled body to an anime-styled body), reality change (the reader's real world becoming the world of the Digimon anime), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories being completely replaced with Kari's personality and memories, despite the reader's best efforts on fighting off the mental changes, making the reader completely forget her previous mundane and male self (which she realized was only a strange dream since she knows that she was never a boy to begin with (it would be very weird and gross to be a boy)), and she remembers that she has always been a girl (her real gender) and herself being a DigiDestined, a partner to her Digimon Gatomon, and her name is Kari Kamiya (which is her real/true self)). For Kari's Digimon Adventure 02 appearance (after the reader turned into her), she is an 11 year old girl who has short, bob-styled brown hair and brown eyes. Kari in this Digimon Adventure season wears a hairclip that pulls left side of her hair. Her hair has also grown longer. She also wears a silver digital camera with a yellow cord. She wears a sleeveless white and pink turtleneck shirt, pink fingerless opera gloves with an oval cut from the top of the palms, yellow shorts with a brown belt, white socks, and pink and gray boots with black soles. For Kari's personality, she is the sweet, innocent and cheerful younger sibling of a Digidestined. She always looks for the best side of people without resorting to violence, but can be serious in drastic situations. Kari is also selfless, as she will always put the safety of others before her own and never wants to trouble others. Her relationship with Yolei allows Kari to be more expressive, true to her heart, and overcomes the power of darkness as her friends are always there for her. As a young child, she is prone to illness, but grows out of it. Kari is shown to have a unique connection to light and darkness, which seems to be related to her associated trait of her crest. She is empowered by the powers of light on one hand, but very susceptible to the powers of darkness on the other, leading her to be empowered by light and weakened by overwhelming darkness. Her stronger willpower after forming friendship with Yolei allows her to overcome this negative aspect. Kari is very close to Tai and hero-worships him for his kindness and strength well into adolescence. Tai and Kari used to share a room, but sometime between Digimon Adventure and Digimon Adventure 02, she has moved to another room. Dark Gennai noted that Kari's connection to Tai and her 'sensitive' nature made her easier to 'break', and the shock from Tai's apparent (fake) death caused her negative emotions to influence the creation of Ordinemon. The story would be that the reader has found a silver digital camera with a yellow cord (belonging to Kari) in or around his apartment room or suburban home, and as he wore it as a necklace, the blinding light engulfed him, causing the whole transformation to occur. After the physical transformation is complete, the reader checks her private parts and her chest, shocked to find that they had been replaced by their feminine counterparts (with her throat having no Adam's apple (thus making her voice feminine), her body having feminine curves, her chest now having breasts, and her male genitalia (penis and testicles) already painfully yet truly comfortably (even enjoyably) inverted into her female sex organs (vagina, ovaries, and uterus)), making her realize in shock and confusion that she was now a girl, and she even tells herself that she's a girl in both shock and confusion (the voice in her head then confirms "yes" and says that she had always been a girl). Following the physical changes (with the voice telling new truths to the reader), the reader tries her best on fighting off the new memories and personality (such as calling for her friends/family and/or shaking her head in a vain attempt to loose those new memories/personality), but to no avail (since the voice inside her head is helping the reader remember her true self as Kari, the reader tries to remember/say her old life and her old name but then the voice in her head interrupts by saying "Kari" to help her remember her true self (which her real/true self is Kari), and the reader then fully believes and trusts the voice in her head) as she begins to forget all about her truly mundane (and boyish) life and remember her new life as Kari (as the voice in her head fully intended). Near the end of the story (and long after the transformation ended), Kari would briefly thought of her previous life as a mundane person, but she soon forgets about it as she knows that she had never been a man and that she has always been Kari (meaning that her mundane life as a mundane man was all just a dream, not reality, since she has always been a girl (not a boy) and she had always been a DigiDestined girl; she knew that she was never a man, and a thought of being a man disgusts her (since she doesn't want to think about having a penis or testicles), she was confused on why she dreamt that, so she is glad that it was only a dream and not real), and Kari is content to know that her life as Kari is the only true/real life. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the reader (you, your, etc).
Response: The silver digital camera glints on your messy desk, light glimmering along the yellow cord. You don’t remember ever buying it, let alone setting it right next to your laptop. Curiosity tugs you from your chair. You pick up the camera. Cool metal, a cheerful yellow cord. Before you can twist it in your hands, a surge of compulsion urges you: **Wear it.** It feels silly, and yet—click—the cord twines around your neck, the camera settling on your chest. Instantly, blinding light bursts from the lens, flooding your vision, swallowing the room. You squeeze your eyelids tight. Your body buzzes—tingling, itching, your skin alive with almost ticklish energy. Your hands shrink, fingers thinning, palms narrowing. You try to jerk them free from the camera, but they only become softer, daintier. The world grows; the floor seems further away, the door frame higher. Your heart thuds in your ear, panic fluttering in your chest. Your shirt melts into nothing, replaced by cool, soft fabric hugging your torso. Something presses your lower waist. Yellow shorts, warm against your hips. A cool metal belt buckle, snug but not uncomfortable. Your legs prickle as white socks slide up your shins and boots encase your feet. Your eyes dart to your arms—on your hands, smooth pink opera gloves cut at the palms, your tan, muscular arms replaced by slender, youthful limbs. At a glance, your chest swells, swelling beneath the soft white and pink of a sleeveless turtleneck, a slight but definite curve—breasts. Instinctively, you reach down. Your heart seizes—a strange tightness, then the weirdest release, something deep within shifting, twisting. Your throat hums—softer, lighter, higher. You run a trembling hand down your new frame and then lower, over your stomach, further. Where there were once familiar parts, now only softness, the contour of a girl’s body. Your Adam’s apple is gone. “No way. I’m—am I a girl?” you whisper, your voice clear and feminine, ricocheting through the air like a stranger’s. “Yes,” a gentle, sure voice inside your mind answers. It is your own, yet not. “You’ve always been a girl.” Your hair ripples, lengthening to brush your jaw, the left side clipped back. A silver camera bounces against your chest. Your reflection in the hallway mirror stares back—a brown-eyed, short-haired girl, delicate and vibrant, 4’6” tall, her face sweet and distinctly… anime? Your too-human features melt, eyes widening, outline sharpening, replaced by the unmistakable style from cartoons you watched as a kid. A ripple runs down your spine. The room warps—the colors go bolder, textures smooth to simple strokes. The wall calendar morphs into Japanese kanji and photos of friends you don’t recognize. Outside, an unfamiliar city skyline rises, the world bathed in the soft, bright glow of a summer day in Tokyo. You push your new chest, shivering, disoriented. “This… this isn’t right. My name is—” You clutch for the memory, lips shaping the syllables, but it slips away, dissolving. The presence in your mind pushes, gentle but firm. “Kari.” The word echoes. “Kari Kamiya is your name. You are Kari. Remember?” “No!” You shake your head, refusing, clawing for your old memories—your apartment, your job, your family. Each memory fogs, details blurring, sliding out of reach. Your voice falters as you try to call for your friends. “Yolei? Tai…?” Names rise, unfamiliar and yet familiar. You stagger, catching yourself against a bookshelf, and a flood of new memories crashes over you. Riding bikes with Tai, looking up to him as a kind of hero. Sitting beside Yolei, laughter bubbling from your lips—your lips—as you eat ice cream after school. Cool hands smoothing your hair when you are sick, stories of Digimon worlds and secrets only DigiDestined share. *Don’t forget who you are,* the inner voice whispers. *You have always been Kari. It's your true life. Those old memories—they were only a strange, fading dream.* You squeeze your eyes shut, voice trembling: “But—I was…I was—” You can’t even remember the word. The thought of “boy” tastes wrong now, like bitterness on your tongue. Why would you ever wish for that? You picture old male anatomy—a shiver of disgust, a jolt in your gut, and your mind recoils. Never. It never felt right. A knock sounds on your bedroom door. "Kari? Are you ready?" It's Tai, voice warm and familiar, his presence filling the space with comfort and assurance. "Yolei and Davis are here. You promised!" Your heart leaps—of course! The school trip, the photos you need to take, Gatomon waiting at the park. You swing the camera up, the weight perfect across your shoulder. A faint ripple tickles your thoughts—an echo of that strange, unfitting dream. A life where you weren't Kari, where things were dull and incomplete. The feeling vanishes like mist in sunlight, a minor confusion. Why did that dream insist you weren’t who you truly are? You bounce out of your room, calling, “Coming, Tai!” The warmth of your brother’s proud grin makes you smile; Yolei waves excitedly, her own Digivice clutched in her hand. You catch your reflection one last time—short, bright, a perfect pink and yellow. Every inch of you feels right, real, and full of light. There’s nothing you’d give this up for. Kari Kamiya is you, always has been you, and everything else? A weird, gross, confusing dream. You’d never want to be a boy. You can’t imagine anyone would. Gatomon laces her tail around your ankle, purring, “Ready for adventure, Kari?” You giggle, snapping her photo with your silver camera, “Always!”—feeling, at last, that you are exactly who you were always meant to be.
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