- Title: Feminized by an Evil Spirit
- Subtitle: Never Sleep with Another Man’s Wife
- Category: transgender horror
- Author: Yu Sakurazawa
15-year-old Yashas is an intelligent boy from a well-to-do family. He has an affectionate dad, a doting mom and a caring elder brother called Renjit. Yashas’s dad, Sreehari has lands spreading over several acres in his native town of Mannarkad. He sells them in order to be able to afford a Rs. 20 crore house in the posh locality of Indiranagar in Bangalore.
After the family shifts to their new home, Yashas starts feeling tired and ill. He can’t recall anything that he has studied and fails his quarterly exams. One evening, while returning from school, Yashas feels that he is being chased by an invisible entity. The entity soon takes possession of Yashas’s body.
Yashas goes home and dresses in his mother’s saree and jewelry. He sits on the floor and starts talking like a rustic female farmhand. Over a period of time, Yashas’s body begins to feminize. In about three months, the paranormal female entity has turned Yashas into a voluptuous young woman.
Will the female spirit ever leave the innocent young lad’s body? Will Yashas (now called Jenny) ever find peace again?
Feminized by an Evil Spirit
Subtitle: Never Sleep with Another Man’s Wife
Chapter 1 – Extravagance
My name is Yashas Sreehari and I’m the luckiest 15-year-old boy on earth. I attend an elite all boys’ school and stand first in every subject. My friends respect me and the teachers adore me. At home, I’m the apple of my mom, dad and elder brother Renjit’s eye.
My dad, Sreehari runs a well-known CA firm, which provides top quality services in auditing, accounting, business advisory, tax consulting, management consulting, corporate advisory and so on. My mom, Meera is a docile, affectionate homemaker, who has dedicated her entire life to ensure the comfort and well-being of the family. Our cook, Raja and maid, Saroja, help mom maintain the house. Mom is very beautiful, with a slender build, milky white skin and long black hair. Even though I’m a guy, I resemble my mom vis-à-vis build, skin and hair color. My eyes are green like my mom’s.
At 22, my brother is considerably older than me. He acquired a degree in mechanical engineering a year ago and currently works in an MNC. Dad wants him to pursue his MS in Detroit. My brother is ambitious, but is postponing his further studies as he doesn’t wish to leave Bangalore. He doesn’t wish to leave, as he can’t bear the thought of being parted from me. Renjit is the most loving, caring and protective elder brother anyone could have. In many ways, he is like a second dad to me.
I go to school in a jubilant mood. I’m happy as my dad will be returning home tonight, after a week. He has gone to our native town of Mannarkad in Kerala, where we own several acres of ancestral agricultural lands. Rice, tapioca, cashew, coconut, clove, cardamom, bananas and pepper are grown in these fecund lands. I have visited Mannarkad quite a few times; a few days at the plantation are a refreshing break from being in the maddening city. Our loyal farmhand, Mohan, has looked after our lands for over thirty years now. Now, at age fifty, Mohan still continues to toil on our lands. He also manages about twenty other laborers and farmhands. I have met Mohan several times. He is warm and friendly. So, is his relatively young wife, Anusree. The couple has three school-going children.
Presently, dad has gone to Kerala on one of his routine visits to check if everything is well in the plantation. This is just a formality, which is not really necessary. Mohan looks after our lands as if they were his own.
The day goes well. I attend all my classes and spend the sports period in the library, reading a finance magazine. I enjoy taking long walks, but am otherwise not athletic. I don’t engage in sports as I hate getting sweaty and smelly. The other boys sometimes tease me because of my aversion to sports. They call me a sissy, but go no further than that. My enviable grades in academics stop them from severely insulting me about my lack of athletic prowess.
I return home and change into jeans and a t-shirt. Mom gets me a snack, after which I sit down to do my homework. Renjit returns home from office at 7 pm and the two of us go on a long walk. When I return home, I discover that dad has returned from Kerala. He looks ruddy, healthy and excited, like he always does when he returns from the countryside. However, I feel that this time; dad has something unusual up his sleeve.
We meet at the dining table over dinner. Over platefuls of boiled rice and fish curry, dad tells us about his visit to Mannarkad. He tells us that the crops are flourishing and that the farmhands are doing well. Then, with his brown eyes sparkling excitedly, he changes the topic. “Do you all remember the ready-made house in Indiranagar that I had liked? How would you like to live in it?” he abruptly asks.
Indiranagar is a posh area in Bangalore. I think of the house dad is talking about. It is a huge two storied building, with a stone finish. It has a huge courtyard with a swimming pool, a tennis court and a massive wrought-iron gate. It is an impressive establishment, but lacks the homeliness of our traditionally-built cream-colored Jayanagar home, with its huge swing and sweet little garden.
I steal a glance at mom and Renjit. Going by the expression on their faces, I gather that they feel the same way as me.
Mom looks at dad disapprovingly. “We have lived in this house for 25 years, ever since we were married” she tells him “we’ve had a lovely time here. We’ve raised both our boys here. I love the temples and parks in this area. Though we are Keralites, we’ve grown close to our local Kannada-speaking neighbors. I wouldn’t like to shift to Indiranagar”.
“I agree with mom” says Renjit “Indiranagar may be a posh locality, but it lacks the charming, conservative aura of Jayanagar. Also, Indiranagar has too many clubs and pubs. Mom won’t feel comfortable in such a locality”.
“You’re wrong; Indiranagar is traditional” dad points out “it has an association that organizes classical Indian music and dance programs. Performing arts, theatre and drama is also promoted in the locality. Indiranagar has some of the best gyms, tennis and basket ball grounds, so you boys will be happy”.
I wrinkle my nose. Dad looks at me disapprovingly and says, “Don’t do that, Yashas. You have to take more of an interest in sports, you know”.
“I know” I mutter under my breath.
Renjit has a point to make. “Dad, you’d said you had managed to raise only Rs.10 crore” he says “while that palatial Indiranagar house costs a whopping Rs. 20 crore! Did you manage to raise that extra Rs. 10 crore so soon?!”
A mysterious smile tugs the corners of dad’s lips. “That’s why I had gone to Mannarkad” he says “to talk to Mohan–about the land sale”.
Mom looks aghast. “What land sale?” she asks “what in the world are you talking about?”
“I’ve decided to sell my ancestral lands to the owner of a chain of rubber-manufacturing factories” says dad bluntly “he’s going to make a down-payment of Rs.10 Crore, with which I can buy the Indiranagar house for you guys”.
Mom’s face goes ashen with shock. “You’re going to sell the lands, which belonged to your ancestors?” she says in a whisper.
“Of course, Meera” dad says irritably “there’s nothing to be upset about. I am a successful upwardly-mobile man with a lovely family. I have to own that palatial Indiranagar house as a status symbol”.
“Dad, everyone knows that you are a successful person” Renjit points out “you don’t need any status symbols to prove your worth!”
“Keep quiet, Renjit” says dad “you’re not grown up enough to interfere with my decisions!”
“Your dad is right, Renjit” says my docile mother “please don’t speak to him in that haughty tone”.
“Sorry” Renjit murmurs. I reflect on how paradoxical mom’s nature is. Though she disagrees with dad, she doesn’t want his children to question his decisions. On most occasions, mom too doesn’t question dad’s decisions, but accepts them passively. According to mom, dad is the head of the family, who has given us the best possible life. He knows what is best for us; hence we must never ever disobey him.
“What’ll happen to Mohan and the other farm hands” I can’t help asking “they’ll have nowhere to go once you sell the lands”.
“I’ve spoken to the rubber-factory head; he has promised to give all my farmhands jobs in his factory” says dad “when the factory comes up, more and more people in Mannarkad will be employed. The town will prosper. If Mohan wishes, he could work in the rubber factory. Or else, he could shift to Bangalore. I’ve given him the option of working as a peon in my firm. I’ve also offered to provide living quarters for him and his family”.
“I’m glad the farmhands won’t starve” I say. I’m not euphoric with dad’s decision to sell the lands, but am relieved that the farmhands will be employed once the factory is constructed. It is a matter of solace that they will have alternative employment. I look at mom and Renjit’s faces and surmise that they feel the same way.C
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