Category Archives: Gender-Changing Spring

Feminized in the Pyrenees – A Transgender Romance Story

Feminized in the Pyrenees

  • Title: Feminized in the Pyrenees
  • Subtitle: A Transgender Romance Story
  • Author: Yu Sakurazawa
  • Transgender Category: MTF

Fergus Meyers is a handsome 42 year old Irishman. An accident at 19 paralyzes his lower limbs, leaving him wheelchair bound. Fergus comes across beautiful Frenchwoman Delphina Dan Naud on a social networking site and falls in love with her. Continue reading Feminized in the Pyrenees – A Transgender Romance Story

Reincarnation: Love Beyond Age & Gender

Reincarnation

  • Title: Reincarnation:
  • Subtitle: Love Beyond Age & Gender
  • Old title: Relived Love & Justice
  • Author: Yu Sakurazawa
  • Category: Romance, MTF transgender

Ashton is a retired judge. He has been in agony for 30 years since he made a single mistake by sentencing death to an innocent man.

He is interested in a legend of mystic temple which has a spring of rejuvenation. He travels to eastern India and finally finds the mystic temple.

He is soaked in the mystic water and when he wakes up, he finds himself in a young feminine body. Ashton also finds that the time is centuries back.

She is a beautiful dancer – a temple prostitute.

[Main Characters]


Reincarnation

Love Beyond Age & Gender

Chapter 1

It was a particularly humid day. Beams of sunlight struck from every conceivable direction. Somewhere in the south east coast of the Indian subcontinent, between the Eastern Ghats and the Bay of Bengal stood a forest. It was of the evergreen variety with towering ebony trees and other specimen. Most were about 52 feet tall with shimmering, mysterious green leaves. The barks of trees alternated between an imperial jet black and a breath-taking striking brown. The trees were rich enough to provide solid shade. The thick fragrance of flowers filled the air.

The gazelle was dying. He was much advanced in his twilight years. His once fawn-colored hide had darkened into an unhealthy, almost intimidating brown. Like in all males of his species, the horns were long and curved.

He was so weak that he could barely walk. The gazelle limped along a stretch of forest he lived in. He was very much aware of his condition; his final desire was to lie in a vast all-embracing pool of water. Immersing himself in an inviting tepid pool, he thought, would bring much solace—like being in the arms of his mother.

He persevered on even though his legs were killing him. The gazelle dreaded the prospect of being confronted with a dhole or wild jungle dog, sloth bear or a cheetah. Many a times in his youth, the gazelle had jumped and run when he’d seen a cheetah. He didn’t think that possible when on his last legs.

The gazelle reached the lagoon around which the evergreen forest he lived in had grown. Since it was a part of the sea which had stretched itself out to the land, the waters were saline and brackish. A mangrove forest had grown in it; it accommodated various types of trees with the roots outside, with pores outside large enough to allow air inside and well-developed ‘buttresses’—gigantic roots flanking all sides of a unsoundly rooted tree. Sometimes, many trees with buttress roots had come together to form an intimate, intricate mesh. They barely allowed sunlight to permeate.

Since there was not an inch of space to immerse himself in, the fatigued gazelle staggered on. The knobbly roots, fissured barks in yellow, green and even pink and the thick menacing leaves of trees suffocated him. He was glad when he’d crossed the lagoon and emerged on the other side of the forest.

The sea came into view. The gazelle tottered beyond the cave temples, monasteries, the 3 feet tall cheetah statue and a small 7 tiered temple. The temple had been there for some time, but the rest of the specimen had been unearthed by the recent tsunami that had struck the area. The tsunami made significant changes to the shoreline, uncovering a number of such hidden relics.

The waters were a glimmering golden black in the moonlight. Something—perhaps a passing bird, a tiny pebble or even a minor earthquake—had roiled its surface, leaving it disturbed. The gazelle stood waiting for the surface to regain its lost tranquility. After a while, he faltered closer to the sea. It was magnetizing him towards it in a way he couldn’t describe. The feeling was almost—supernatural.

As he moved on, something caught a beam of the moonlight and shimmered. The tips of 7 golden domes were conspicuous above the surface of water. They were bright, splendorous, mystic and sacred—all at the same time. The gazelle had seldom seen anything so beautiful.

Enticed by the golden domes, he moved on. The sands that had previously been rough were now damp and sodden with sea water. The gazelle gingerly dipped one of his forelimbs into a forthcoming wave. It was cool, refreshing, rejuvenating.

The golden domes stood at a distance. They beckoned him to come closer and the gazelle waddled many steps into the sea. The waves were getting increasingly rough and turbulent against his feeble legs. As the gazelle advanced further into the sea, its level rose. The gazelle kicked his limbs around in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. The waters had risen, inundating his whole body. Only, his head bobbed up and down the water surface.

The gazelle swam 100 feet or so towards the golden domes. Once there, he’d sunk. He didn’t hit the hard sea bed as he had anticipated, but was sucked into the glorious temple interiors made of intricately carved stone blocks. He was only semi-conscious now. The waters inside the mystic interiors weren’t horribly saline like the waters of the sea and the lagoon. They were soothing, sweet and ambrosial. Lulled into drowsiness, the gazelle soon fell asleep.

A sliver of sun’s beam woke him up the next morning. The gazelle found that he was afloat on the waves. The golden domes were glimmering fiercely in the sunlight. They almost gave an impression of the sea being set on fire.

The gazelle swam back to the shore. He found that his movements were light and sprightly. The deep death-like exhaustion of the previous day had vanished.

Something had changed. Something magical had transpired during the time the gazelle had lain in the interiors of one of the submerged temples. What exactly had happened? This—the gazelle found he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He reached the shore and made his way back to the forest. While traversing the length of the lagoon, he happened to catch sight of his reflection. Only, it was changed—into that of a young gazelle. A petite, comely, fawn-colored gazelle. And ‘he’ was female.

His heavy, ridged, curved horns had given way to poker straight, slender and whirly ones like those of female gazelles. The long erect organ that he had used to impregnate several females in his day had now disappeared into a hole. The gazelle didn’t have a penis anymore; he had a womb. And the reflection revealed tiny pink circles on the bottom of his body—circles that showed the promise of swelling into udders when the female gazelle got pregnant and started producing milk….


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The Superior Gender – The Triumphants and The Infradigs

The Superior Gender

  • Title: The Superior Gender
  • Subtitle: The Triumphants and The Infradigs
  • Author: Yu Sakurazawa
  • Gender Swap Type: MTF

[Introduction]

The rule of the Regime is a skewed one, wherein women are persecuted and treated like cattle. The mirific waters of the Well of Reincarnation subvert The Regime by transmuting potent, tyrannical men into comely helpless maidens called ‘The Infradigs’. The prototypal women organize themselves into an all-woman clan called ‘The Triumphants’. The principal motto of the clan is vendetta: paying ‘The Infradigs’ back with the same coin.

How far will ‘The Triumphants’ go with their theorem of hate? Are the canons of avengement more imperative than concerns of humanity? Continue reading The Superior Gender – The Triumphants and The Infradigs

A Secret Brew for Rejuvenation: Dreams Don’t Die

A Secret Brew for Feminization - Dreams Don't Die

  • Title: A Secret Brew for Rejuvenation
  • Subtitle: Dreams Don’t Die
  • Author: Yu Sakurazawa
  • Transgender Category: MTF

[Introduction]

Mario Keshav Rodriguez, the grody old curmudgeon of Goa, is the product of a ‘sacrilegious’ union between an upper-class Indian lady and a common Portuguese soldier. The multi-talented Mario happens to be a prolific genius of a writer, yet has the stars obstinately crossed against him. In a period spanning many decades, Mario hasn’t been able to get a single line published. Upon drinking Feni (a Goan alcoholic drink) concocted from the sap of a magical toddy, Mario is reincarnated as the beautiful young Sophie. Will Sophie succeed in getting Mario’s rich, literary works published? Or will his dreams die a sad, lingering death? Continue reading A Secret Brew for Rejuvenation: Dreams Don’t Die

Queen Lysandra – Gender-Changing Spring (Spring of Reincarnation)

QueenLysandra

  • Title: Queen Lysandra
  • Series: Gender-Changing Spring (Spring of Reincarnation)
  • Author: Yu Sakurazawa
  • Gender Swap Type: MTF

[Introduction]

55 year old anthropology professor, Paul Grant, is jaded with the familiar. He loves the familiarity of England, but also craves the exotic. During a project that involves the excavation and study of Egyptian mummies, he stumbles upon the sarcophagus of the beauteous, exquisite Egyptian Queen Lysandra. After consuming a magic elixir that he stumbles on in a glass urn among the pyramids, Prof. Grant goes back several centuries and finds himself transformed in the 21 year old Queen Lysandra.

Does all that follows actually transpire or is the lonely professor growing senile? Continue reading Queen Lysandra – Gender-Changing Spring (Spring of Reincarnation)

Feminized in Himalayas – Mystery in High Mountains

Spring of Reincarnation

  • Title: Feminized in Himalayas – Even of Arcane Waters
  • Subtitle: Mystery in High Mountains
  • Author: Yu Sakurazawa
  • Category: transgender fantasy, mtf

His imagination stimulated by the ‘Legend of the Stag’, diehard psychoanalysis aficionado, Prof. Miller, goes to North-East India in search of The Spring of Reincarnation. He returns to Boston as gorgeous 19 year old Eve and finds that his relationship with wife, Madison, takes on a tantalizing dimension. Eve also gets into a blissful lesbian fling with another woman. A while later, her dream run ends. Eve hypnotizes herself to find that she has two targets in life: revenge against her archrival, Dylan Smith, and impregnation by his seed. Will she succeed in her designs?


Feminized in Himalayas

Chapter 1

The Legend of the Stag

Summer was coming to an end. The leaves of the chestnuts, maples and birches were slowly deepening into mysterious hues of red and yellow. A magnificent stag, weakened by age and injury, walked on painfully. He was in the winter of his life, yet had a sort of stateliness around him; in the regal way the antlers stood over his head and the erectness with which he held his back. His left leg, which he assiduously dragged behind him, left a trail of blood along the forests, hills and dales. This is exactly where the wolf had sunken his teeth with the intention of devouring. However, the stag had been miraculously saved by a mountain lion that had attacked his predator.

The wounded stag walked deeper and deeper into the subtropical pine forests. The firs and weeping cypresses cast an ominous shadow around him, almost as if they were portending his death. ‘If this is the end, so be it’ he stoically uttered and trudged on. Far away, he beheld a beauteous meadow replete with rhododendrons and wide variety of wild flowers. The sight brought out a deep-seated poetic melancholy within him. He reminisced his youth when his antlers had been stronger and upper canines huger. The stag had been handsome, strong and virile; yet had chosen to live a life of celibacy. He hadn’t locked horns with any other stag nor won and impregnated any shy doe. He had, in his youth, been chosen as the Lama of the herd and had guided them both personally and spiritually. Upon beholding spring in a parallel world, he was filled with a sense of regret at never having mated. He felt sorry about not having imprinted his seed on any doe. ‘This is it’ he thought as he made his way up the tortuous paths ‘I am going to expire without leaving any of my existence….’

He walked on in a daze, without realizing that he had reached the edge of a cliff. He continued to move and came tumbling down the slopes. The descent felt endless until he found himself in a warm, soothing liquid pool of water. ‘I have fallen into a hot spring’ he exclaimed, then added ‘I stand corrected; I have fallen into THE hot spring’.

The legend of the hot spring was an old one. It was rumored to lie somewhere in between Sikkim and Nepal; heavily guarded by the thick foliage of forests and the towering barriers of hills. Nobody—man or beast—had ever seen it with their own eyes. There wasn’t a wall or any kind of a physical barrier segregating the fabled spring from the rest of the world; but it had a mysterious, forbidding quality to it that had made birds, animals and humans apprehensive of going near its precincts. However, all the locals—birds, animals and humans—had heard of its existence from their grandmothers and other ancestors who went further back than that.

The stag realized that he had fallen into the hot spring that no animal, bird, human or reptile had dared to venture close to before. Contrary to the dark ominous notions that surrounded it; he found the waters of the spring to be very relaxing. The fact that even trees desisted from shedding their leaves into it made the waters of the spring the cleanest, purest and most crystal clear myrtle the stag had ever seen with his centenarian eyes. The calm ripples of the water were a balm on his wounds. The temperature of the water was just right: a woozy amorphous warm neither too hot nor too cold. He felt like a tiny wee embryo within his mother’s womb; nurtured concealed and protected from the rest of the world. Accordingly, the stag assumed a fetus like position and let himself go. Soon, he felt himself sucked into a deep, soothing quagmire of a slumber.

His eyelids fluttered open. The early morning dew was damp against his skin and the raucous chirping of birds loud and clear in his ears. He felt free of the torpid fatigue that had engulfed his body and spirit the previous day, making him sure that he would die. He felt fresh young blood coursing his veins. His hide had turned indisputably smoother and more delicate. The stag was taken aback to see that the wound inflicted by his predator had miraculously healed. In one liquid spritely motion, he jumped on a rock that stood beside the isolated stream. Poised expertly on it, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. What he beheld was the most astounding thing that he had ever witnessed in his life.

Instead of his own ancient reflection, he saw a young doe. His rugged fossilized hide had been replaced by softer, more feminine skin typical of the female of his species. The majestic antlers had fallen off to be replaced by tender, light bay fuzz. The ears were not as huge as they used to be but had turned into a more compact, shell-like shape; the insides of it tinged by a pale pink hue. The stag’s old weather-beaten muscular body had reshaped itself into a singularly youthful, smaller, petite, softer contoured body, typical of the female of the musk deer species. His old gargantuan penis had disappeared into a female musk dear’s internal genitalia. He noticed that he had a single seat of teats. His prominent upper canines had given way to gentle tusks.

‘Golly, check me ought’ thought the stag in his mind ‘I’ve turned into a young doe’. Suddenly, he was acutely conscious that the mating season was on and he was ovulating. Yes, he found himself as fertile as the earth; ready to be sown with seeds, reaping a bountiful harvest in time. Acting on some mysterious impulse, he went and stood a coy distance away from his herd. The creatures in his heard didn’t recognize him as their philosopher and spiritual mentor. They took him at face value—as a young female deer that had attained puberty and was ripe and ready to receive the seed of life.

The herd comprised of two candidates in their reproductive prime. One of them was a tall muscular stag of the musk deer species whose antlers had just ossified into hard bone beneath the protective sheath of velvet. As soon as he saw the nubile doe, he rubbed the velvet off his antlers: a gesture symbolizing that he was ready to mate. Just as he was going to approach her; he was accosted by a rival in the form of a huge swarthy Asian black deer. The new contender’s horns were just as impressive. The two withdrew their front limbs inwards, lowered their heads menacingly before locking horns in a dead-lock. The shy young doe watched breathlessly; curious as to which of the two would finally win her. The dead-lock gave way and the stag of the musk species emerged the winner. He approached the fecund doe and embedded his seed deep within her. Ten months on, the ploughing resulted in the harvest of two new born fawns.

The old stag’s dream was fulfilled. He had passed on his genes.


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