Kyle’s Feminine Roots – MTF Autobiography Story

Kyle's Feminine Roots

  • Title: Kyle’s Feminine Roots
  • Series: MTF Autobiography Story
  • Author: Yu Sakurazawa
  • Gender Swap Type: MTF

[Introduction]

16 year old Scottish lad Kyle Morrison’s world comes crashing down when his boyfriend leaks their sex MMS, making it go viral on mobile phones. Before long, it makes headlines and Kyle is rusticated from school. Taking advantage of the bog of depression his wife has sunk into, Kyle’s pedophile of a stepdad bandies him into the streets. Kyle is provided shelter by Natasha who instinctively senses Kyle’s desire to be a girl. Natasha spends a whopping amount on Kyle’s sex reassignment and estrogen therapy following which she employs Kyle (now Sheena) in her “massage parlor”. Whist working there, Sheena captures the fancy of LA based adult-movie maker, Jayden King, who converts the young prostitute into ‘Sensuous Sheena’, the porn star. While shooting her porn flicks, Sheena continues her quest to be a top star in Hollywood. During her journey replete with dramatic rise and ebbs, Sheena meets Chase Perez, a top action movie star; Alexander Turner, the fatherly mentor and Brice Meyers, her PRO and best friend. Will Sheena’s dark past catch up with her, endangering her stupendous success in Hollywood? Does Sheena find all answers to life’s questions in LA or does she need to reconnect with her roots?

[Characters]

Kyle Morrison/Sheena/Lily is the 16 year old protagonist of the story whose life gets derailed because of a leaked sex tape. Kyle is described as having clear skin, calf-like eyes, an angelic nose and luscious lips. Following being thrown of the house, Kyle is rescued by Natasha who pays for his MTF surgery and therapy and helps him become ‘Sheena’. Following a stint at a massage parlor, it’s straight to LA for Sheena wherein she plays different roles: i.e. that of Porn Star, Sensuous Sheena, the girlfriend of action hero Chase Perez and top RomCom heroine, Lily Morrison.

Bobby is Kyle’s skinny, stylish, seedy 28 year old boyfriend who sports his hair long. Bobby seduces young Kyle into an affair with him and tapes their intimate moments together. Subsequently, he sells the tape to a website called ‘Seller’s Paradise’ and makes oodles of money. The police trace him down and arrest him. As a result of the scandal that erupts due to Bobby’s action, Kyle is thrown out of school and later on his house.

Vikas Gupta is Kyle Morrison’s pedophile of a stepfather. He is described as a ‘gross, fat, ugly boar’. Vikas Gupta misuses his designation as a stepdad and molests young Kyle for 13 years. Gupta is much offended when Kyle speaks up against it and no longer wants to support him financially.

Ella is Kyle’s Scottish mother who marries Indian businessman Vikas Gupta after the demise of Kyle’s father, Rory Morrison. She is a gentle, passive woman to implicitly trusts her devious second husband. Following Kyle MMS scandal, Ella goes into depression and is unable to protest when Vikas Gupta throws him out of the house.

Bishop Johnson is the grim-looking principal of Kyle’s school St. Jude’s who rusticates him following the MMS scandal. Bishop Johnson withholds Kyle’s Transfer Certificate as a result of which the latter is unable to secure admission anywhere else.

Natasha is a short stout woman with podgy features and a racy style of dressing. 38 year old Natasha rescues Kyle from the streets and pays for his MTF surgery and treatment. Following this, she buys Kyle (now Sheena) hoards of sexy lingerie and gets her hair straightened. Natasha employs Kyle in her ‘Massage Parlor’ (euphemism for prostitution den) and mints a lot of money owing to Sheena being a white-skinned girl.

Jayden King is a florid heavy-set 45 year old producer of an adult movie company called ‘Orgasmic Rhapsody’. Much impressed by Sheena’s looks and sexual prowess, King takes her to LA and casts her in his porno flicks.

Chase Perez is the dashing top Hollywood action hero in his late 30s. Chase Perez is 5’9, has high cheek-bones, Jet-black hair, bronze skin and laugher lines. Sheena notices that he has three personalities in him i.e. that of a flirt, an old-fashioned gentleman and an introvert.

Alexander Turner/ Zander is a Hollywood movie producer of 55 with thick hair, lovely eyebrows, glittering green eyes and perennially smiling lips. In an attempt to avenge Perez’s snub, Zander casts his girlfriend Lily in a number of RomCom movies.

Brice Myers is the buoyant, red-haired PRO in her late 30s who helps Lily reinvent herself and revives her flagging Hollywood career. Brice is traumatized due to a miscarriage and the subsequent divorce due to which she’s not able to contact Lily when the latter is struggling to become a Hollywood actor. Five years on, a guilt-ridden Brice contacts a depressed Lily and offers to be her PRO.

Brendon Smith is the director who makes action flick ‘The Lance-wielder’ starring Lily.

Aiden Scott is a 35 year old blue eyed, sandy-haired Scottish man whom Lily finds true love in.

Daisy J. Morrison is the wrinkled elderly grandma of Lily. Daisy Morrison is a mischievous person with a lot of spunk. She has her heart in the right place and accepts Kyle’s gender change liberally.

Bajaj is a hirsute pot-bellied Bollywood producer who is a regular client of Lily’s.

Janet is Turner’s estranged wife who comes back into his life ousting Lily.

Tyler is Lily’s 25 year old, unimpressive-looking agent. Tyler is unable to get Lily a project, but gets her a ticket to a star-studded party at which she meets Chase Perez.

Pratap Singh is a well-known Bollywood director who is impressed by Lily’s histrionics and dialogue delivery, yet rejects her saying she is too ‘foreign-looking’ for the Hindi film industry. He tells Lily that she’s very talented and encourages her to try her luck in some other movie industry.

Rory Morrison is Lily’s deceased father. Rory is depicted as having blue eyes, blonde hair and an easy, good-natured, playful manner. Lily reminiscences about him with fondness.

 

[Sample Text]

Kyle’s Feminine Roots
Chapter 1

A Scandal Breaks Out

It was a morning just like any other. The morning sun streamed out of the window. I went to my ballet class and returned as usual. Then I got ready and left for school. As I donned the familiar trousers, I felt, not for the first time, a familiar sense of dysphoria. I fervently wished, instead, that the uniform comprised a skirt. However, I did not allow myself to dwell on this for long. After all, I was a mature, responsible sixteen year old who was expected to do tremendously well in my tenth grade exams.

As I opened the school gate, I noticed the guard looking at me strangely. I traipsed down the football field, satchel on back, and noticed some senior boys playing football. As I passed them, they stopped playing abruptly. And gazed at me in a manner that made me acutely uncomfortable: leering would be an apt word. Their insolent eyes, from under the fringe of thick masculine eyebrows, ogled and traveled down my lips, Adam’s apple, flat abs to finally settle on my groin region. ‘We know what you look like—I mean, without your pants’ said one and laughed. The others joined in a rude, boisterous guffaw.

Their behavior was offensive at least, frightening at worse. I felt totally and fearfully female. In spite, of having a six inch cock.

‘What could that oaf have meant by the comment?’ I vaguely wondered before dismissing the scene from my mind. The senior boys were, anyway, lewd and insane. There was no use dwelling on what they did and didn’t do.

I covered the vast length of the football field and reached the main school building. Again, I noticed unusual behavior. A gaggle of girls, standing near the canteen, snickered and nudged each other when I went in. ‘You have quite a colorful life, eh, Kyle?’ shouted one particularly bold bespectacled specimen from across the corridor.

In spite of my rising discomfort, I ignored her. That particular girl was a pig-headed one, anyway. She had an ungainly figure, with fat deposited in all the wrong places; I was convinced that she secretly harbored a colossal inferiority complex. ‘The insolent girl should try and tone her barrel-like form down (it was too undefined to be called a figure) before acting smart-alecky’ I thought. Commenting on other people’s lives, colorful or otherwise, wasn’t her business.

I thought I’d go straight to class, but nature called urgently. I thought I’d take a leak first and then go down to class. I nearly went into the ‘Girls’, but then reality dawned. I reluctantly dragged myself to the boys’ lavatory.

I nearly stopped in my tracks. Inside the lavatory and all over the walls were scrawled the most petrifying words. ‘Kyle Morrison is a whore’ it said in marked, clamorous loud red letters. Another post said ‘For gay sex contact Kyle at 99……’

I was Kyle Morrison. And I suppose I could be called a whore. But I thought I had been quite discreet. How had the fact become common knowledge?

I came out of the bathroom and took a detour. Instead of going to the classroom, I made my way to the library. The librarian looked more forbidding than usual. He glared at me in a manner that made my stomach churn with nervousness. Something was definitely the matter. The protracted suspense of it was killing me.

I casually picked up the paper, hoping to divert myself. And then I saw it. Splashed across the top half of the front page. On this particular daily and every other. In black bold font. ‘St. Jude’s Boy Involved in MMS Scandal’ it read. The front page carried a clear mug-shot of me. So, that stinking bastard had leaked that tape, after all.

Bobby was twelve years older than me. That hadn’t seemed as a deterrent back then, a year ago when we’d started dating. One fine evening, I’d found him outside my school-gate. His black and yellow Harley Davidson bike had looked like a gigantic attractive beetle. Mounted on it was Bobby who himself didn’t look too bad. He was stylish: had long hair fastened in a bandana, was skinny in an attractive way and wore uber hip Rayban shades. His features were not too bad, either. Even if not even, they were passable. And being talked to by an older man was ever so flattering.

‘Hey, you there!’ Bobby had called out spiritedly ‘Enjoying school and all?’

‘What’s there to enjoy with a truck-load of homework?’ I said shifting the weight of the satchel to my right shoulder and making a disgruntled face.

‘Hmmm….I suppose I can relate’ said Bobby with what seemed like genuine empathy ‘I too was in school once’. I wondered how long ago that had been. Bobby didn’t look achingly young. To tell the truth, to a spring chicken like me, Bobby seemed doddering old. I estimated him to be in his late 20s.

Aloud, I made a sound between a cluck and a yawn.

‘By the way, you are quite a piece’ said Bobby eyeing me up and down as if I were the choicest cut of meat ‘a comely lad, I’d call ya’.

‘You gay?’ I tried to sound careless. Deep inside though, I was brimming with desire and excitement.

‘I’d swing either way’ Bobby bared his teeth again ‘as long as the piece is young, nubile and delectable’.

I was revolted by Bobby’s parallels. They showed an indubitable tendency to objectify young boys and girls. This man, in all probability, was some kind of a sexual predator. Yet I found I couldn’t move away. Bobby had his charm.

‘You are disgusting’ I said, continuing to stand rooted to the spot.

‘Much elated, young Sir’ Bobby bowed theatrically ‘Thank you ever so much for the compliment’.

I laughed. Bobby had broken the ice.

I got into the bike behind him. As the briny air of Mumbai hit our faces, I felt a sense of freedom. An escape from my reality, which was that of a young Scottish boy living in conservative India. It would have been okay to live here had I been ‘normal’. But I was not. I was born with male sexual organs, but hadn’t yet hit puberty. The boys in my class had functioning reproductive organs: I am sure the mere sight of a beautiful girl was enough to make them manufacture sperm by the gallon. They had a profusion of hair covering their faces, and as I had seen in the boys’ locker room, on their chest and groin as well. They spoke in mannish gruff voices. The shot of fresh testosterone had suddenly made them shoot-up and molded their bodies into a well-sculpted and muscular shape. They were like rambunctious young animals who loved sport, wrestling in the mud and getting themselves dirty all over.

I, on the other hand, was altogether a different cup of tea. I got excited, but not at the sight of the opposite sex. I didn’t even have a sprouting moustache to boast off, leave alone hair on the chest and the groin region. At 5’4, I wasn’t as tall as they were, and possessed a soft, delicate body (which I’d never dream of rolling in the mud). The neck was a long, dainty one leading to small shoulders which branched into two fine young elegant creeper like arms. The torso region tapered down to a small waist and slender hips. I had a shapely pair of legs. I often caught myself thinking that if I had breasts and enough fat around the buttock region, I could pass myself off as a girl. That would be the most ideal thing, for I desired to be one. I felt that the God above had given me a wrong set of genitals.

My eye-hand coordination had never been as good as that of the other boys and I had always detested sports. I’d often wonder about the utility value of kicking a ball around or beating a shuttlecock across the field with a racket. Wasn’t sport anything but a humungous waste of time? Was it everlasting and eternal, like art for instance? Did it engage and entertain as much as say–movies?

‘So you live with your father and mother, eh?’ Bobby asked conversationally.

‘Mother and step father’ I answered tersely. I didn’t want to go over details of my personal life.

‘Where’s your own father?’ Bobby persisted.

‘He died a long time back—when I was a toddler’ I said. I had hazy memories of my dad, Rory Morrison, carrying me on his back through the Scottish hills and dales, regaling me of stories of the Loch Ness monster. He had blonde hair and blue-eyes and had a sparkling healthy personality. Quite unlike Vikas Gupta’s—the creep of a businessman my mother had been married to for the past thirteen years. It’s a shame dad had to die so young.

‘And your mother married again?’ Bobby was quite curious.

‘Yes’ I said briefly. It was a pity my mom was still smitten by that creep, Vikas Gupta. However, I suppose her feelings were reciprocated. That creep loved her too.

However, he detested me. Especially since the night of my thirteenth birthday when he’d come into my room as usual. I threatened to tell my mother everything: the tiniest little detail of what he had been doing to me for the past thirteenth years. Vikas Gupta had been using my body with alarming frequency; and child abuse, in my opinion, was the most flagrant breach of trust an adult; especially a guardian, could commit on a youngster under his custody.

I noticed beads of perspiration appear on Vikas Gupta’s face. His eyes flit hither and thither like a burglar’s. He looked like a gross, fat, frightened boar.

‘Please don’t tell Ella’ he begged getting down to his knees ‘I’ll get you whatever you want’.

He, of course, meant material goods. A bribe to keep my mouth shut. However, I was a person of integrity. I wouldn’t sell myself for all the gold in the world.

‘Thanks for your very generous offer’ I’d said sarcasm lacing my voice ‘but I don’t want anything. Just keep my mother happy. And—stay the hell away from me’.

Vikas Gupta nodded and slowly rose. From that day onwards, he didn’t as much as touch my body. However, I had now become an encumbrance to him: a superfluous burden that he wanted to get rid of as soon as possible. In a bid to do that he started telling a lot of lies. ‘The boy is getting rather wild and aggressive’ he fabricated ‘Maybe it’s the torrid Indian weather. Not suitable for a boy of European descent. I say, Ella, why don’t you send him to Scotland?’

‘You know I have no one there, Vikas’ my mother said ‘my parents have been dead for a while now. And I don’t wish to trouble my sister with another responsibility. She has three boys of her own’.

‘I mean to your first husband’s mother’ Gupta had suggested ‘Morrison has a mother, doesn’t he?’

‘He sure does and Daisy’s nice’ my mother had replied ‘but I want my son to grow up with me!’

‘Of course, that’s but natural’ Gupta had said and backed off. No doubt, he waited for another opportunity to toss me out of his house.

‘Oh lovely one!’ Bobby’s teasing tone brought me back to the present ‘In whose thoughts are you cocooned in?’

‘Nobody worth mentioning’ I said haltingly.

I noticed we’d come a long way from Cuffe Parade, the area my school and house were located in and had reached a lower-middle class colony called Pant Nagar in Ghatkopkar. We must have passed Byculla, Mazagoan, Dadar and a few other colonies on the way, but I hadn’t noticed. Memories could be very engrossing things sometimes, especially if they are as disturbing as mine.

Bobby held me by the hand and took me inside his apartment. It wasn’t as posh as the areas I’ve been used to but not as bad as I’d anticipated a Pant Nagar flat to be. The windows were guarded with old-fashioned rails instead of glass and were covered by wooden mats to ensure privacy. The flooring wasn’t of marble, white-tiles or even mosaic, but of the antiquated red oxide. The walls were not the tasteful off-white I was used to but a dark blue-green that I found quite garish. A bed lay at the centre of the room and was covered with a white bedspread that looked clean enough. I sat down on the mattress hoping there weren’t any bedbugs underneath it. I was a boy from a sophisticated background and found that I couldn’t avoid such thoughts. They came with the territory of being rich.

‘Cola?’ Bobby asked ‘anything else—tea, coffee, fruit juice?’

I shook my head. Bobby sat down on the mattress and took my face in his hands. ‘Sweet innocent skin, melting calf-like eyes, an angelic nose, luscious kissable red ruby lips’ he observed ‘I am no stranger to beautiful faces—male or female—but you are the most winsome to date’.

I found myself getting dizzy with delight. I’d always longed for my beauty to be described and appreciated in a poetic manner. I was so carried away, that I let myself be kissed rather savagely. When you are a starry-eyed young person of only sixteen, you often mistake animal lust for true love.

Soon, Bobby peeled the clothes off me. He undressed as well. When he took off his underwear, I noticed that he had a rather prominent cock. It was four times the size of mine, and twice the size of my stepdad’s. I wondered if Bobby was going to stick it in my asshole.

He didn’t. Instead, he gently guided my mouth to his rod and coaxed me to suck it. His gigantic manhood nearly choked me, but I carried on. If pleasuring Bobby got me love in return, I’d do it.

Bobby got his camera equipped mobile phone out and started taping the act. I lifted my head for a split second and asked ‘Do you have to do that?’

‘It would help me tide over lonely moments—when you aren’t here’ Bobby said stroking my hair. I believed him. And allowed him to videotape the sex.

Bobby leaked the 42 second sex tape a year later. It soon went viral on all mobile phones. Since Bobby had been standing while taping the act, his face was not visible. Mine was: sucking away at his big cock in blissful oblivion.

An online website called ‘Seller’s Paradise’ had purchased nine copies of the tape and put it up for auction. The police arrested the CEO of the website on charges of trying to sell adult content featuring a minor. Though Bobby had cleverly tried to conceal his face, the police had traced him and arrested him too. He had lost no time in divulging my identity to them, along with supplying them with a mug shot of mine that he had taken with his phone just before taping the sex. The police would have anyway got to me sooner or later, since my pinstriped St. Jude’s uniform, carelessly flung on a near-by chair, was very much visible in the periphery of the frame.

The principal, Bishop Johnson, summoned my parents. Since Gupta was away on a business trip, only my mother arrived. She and I were ushered into Bishop Johnson’s grim-looking chamber. The principal stood near the window, arms sternly crisscrossed across his chest.

‘Mrs. Gupta’ he addressed mom ‘you are aware as to the nature of disrepute your ward has brought to our school’.

‘I am, Sir’ my mother said with her head bowed. It was unbearable, seeing her like this. I felt tremendously sorry about having caused her shame. If the good God above had given me a chance to delete one incident in my life, it would have been this. Enduring my stepdad’s rapes had been easier than witnessing my mother lose her regal, queen-like poise.

‘After what has transpired, we’ll have to rusticate Kyle’.

‘I understand, Sir’. My mother left the room, walking slowly like an old lady. I followed, apologetic and ashamed. Bishop Johnson hadn’t given me a Transfer Certificate, so I couldn’t seek admission in any other school in India or abroad. Since my name was besmirched beyond redemption, I couldn’t see any school giving me admission anyway. My life was ruined.

Gupta came back and consoled my mother. She had got into a state of such profound depression that she hardly ate, slept or spoke. All mom did all day long was sit on the sofa in the living room and stare straight ahead of her. Gupta took her to a psychiatrist who put her on strong anti-depressants. As far as I could see, they did nothing to improve her mood. Mom was still in the same immobile stupor, mutely staring in front of her. However, she ate when coaxed and seemed to grab a little sleep. This was good enough, for now.

Gupta had a company that sold laminates, veneers, upholstery, furnishings, interior decorations etc to wholesalers. He’d, over the years, had a very steady loyal clientele. Post my MMS scandal; clients started avoiding him like plague. A few days later, they phoned and told Gupta that they’d consider coming back if he got rid of me. ‘After all, he’s only your stepson’ they reasoned.

My mother was not herself anymore. Gupta saw this as the perfect opportunity to wash his hands off me. After dinner that night, he asked me to leave his house. I obliged. I turned back to take in the sight of my mother sitting mutely on the sofa, blankly staring ahead of her.

 

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