Feminized for Inspiration

  • Title: Feminized for Inspiration
  • Author: Yu Sakurazawa
  • Category: MTF

Alicia Tinley, a 34-year-old author, has just won the Man Booker Prize for her book “When it Happened”, which revolves around the “corrective” rape she and her partner Lia Costa had suffered 17 years back. The Booker Prize catapults Alicia into fame after which she marries Theo, a beautiful 21-year-old Briton with sea green eyes and flaming red hair. In many ways, he reminds Alicia of Lia…

Alicia starts writing her next novel and is inspired to write the story of Desire, a young carefree trans woman. Alicia is only used to writing about events which have transpired in reality. She, therefore, decides to feminize her husband–for inspiration.

Feminized for Inspiration

Chapter 1 – Man Booker and Marriage

Theo came into my life after 17 years of lonely existence. He was a typical 21-year-old British youth who was in Italy on a solo holiday. Everything about Theo charmed me: his flaming red hair, his porcelain smooth skin and his easy laugh. After a whirlwind romance lasting for a couple of weeks, the two of us got married in a secluded church. A few newspapers got the wind of it and carried a small news report about my marriage.

Appearance and status-wise, I was a total foil to Theo. Owing to my being of mixed descent (my father was British, while my mother was a mixture of Italian, African, Greek and French!), I had unusual looks: a tall angular body, a darkish face and wild black curls. My smoky eyes were so intense that people often thought I was a witch. However, I was nothing of that kind. I was a professional writer, who, at age 34, already had 17 years of writing experience.

I had recently won the Man Booker Prize for my 5th novel “When it Happened”. Like all my other works, “When it Happened” was a rehashed version of the true incidents that had occurred in my life. Winning the Man Booker had catapulted me to international fame. Alicia Tinley was now a household name! I had won prizes for my other novels, but the £50, 000 I had received as the Booker Prize money brought about a noticeable change in my lifestyle. I bought a classical white mansion in Sirmione, into which my husband and I shifted after our marriage.

Being married to Theo brought out qualities, which I didn’t know existed in me. I became more responsible, decisive and protective of my mate. Maybe it was the age difference between me and Theo, or my intrinsically masculine nature, but I wore the trousers in our marriage. While my home-loving husband pranced around the house; cooking, cleaning and watering potted plants, I typed away on my keyboard. The desire to provide a good life for my partner made me work harder. I was currently writing a serialized version of a novel, which appeared every week in a local English newspaper.

I was also in the habit of buying my husband little gifts. I remembered every little detail Theo told me, observed every small thing he was interested in and bought him things he appreciated. For instance, Theo had told me that he liked making miniature sculptures and I gifted him a cool set of sculpting tools on his birthday! The smile, which appeared on my husband’s face, was worth living a thousand lives! It reminded me of someone else’s, whom I had been trying to forget for the past 17 years ….

At 13, I met and fell in love with my classmate Lia Costa. She was a pretty girl with a fair delicate face, soft green eyes and intense red hair. Lia and I became inseparable friends and, soon, something more …. My conservative Christian family soon caught wind of our “friendship” and dissuaded me from seeing Lia. But their words had no impact on me. I continued to go my own merry way. My mom pinched, caned and castigated me, to no avail. My dad yanked my black curls and burnt my neck with a lit cigarette. Yet my love for Lia was so strong that I continued to see her for a good 4 years … until that incident with the man with a sharp knife, wearing a bandana … I can still remember his cold, grey eyes staring into my own as he brutally penetrated me and then Lia, in spite of my screaming and trying to get him off her. He was much stronger than I was. This was “Corrective Rape”—evidently meant to “cure” those who pursued same sex relations.

Before I could recover from the shock of what had happened, I realized that my own parents had hired the man to commit the heinous deed, so that I would be cured of my “affliction” and grow up to be “normal”. My entire world went to pieces upon learning the truth. I cut off relations with my family and moved out of home. As a 17-year-old kid who had just graduated from high school, I couldn’t expect to get the best of jobs. I worked at a supermarket by day and wrote for newspapers at night. My articles became very popular (the points they made and emotions they conveyed apparently struck a chord with readers). I soon graduated to writing novels and was approached by a British publisher. The rest, as they say, is history.

I never saw Lia after the rape. I just couldn’t muster enough strength to fight my parents any more. Shortly afterwards, Lia was found lying in a pool of blood. She had fatally slashed her wrists. I don’t know if she killed herself due to the trauma of rape or the heartbreak of our separation.

I had been a mental wreck after she died. I blamed myself for what happened and couldn’t sleep for several nights. I channelized my anguish into work, which is the reason I was able to produce such a vast amount of work in a relatively short period of time.

I didn’t date. In fact, I barely spoke to people. I became a classic example of a recluse, someone who spoke to people only functionally. My colleagues at the supermarket were a jaunty lot; they longed to include me in their conversations, but I didn’t reciprocate. My hermetic nature made me mysteriously attractive and a few men wanted to date me. I kept them all at arm’s length. All men reminded me of my rapist … I secretly loathed members of the opposite gender until I met Theo.

Theo was different. He may have been genetically male, but had the heart and soul of a woman. He understood subtle emotions, fleeting impulses and irrational fears (of which, I had plenty). He was talented, without being egoistic. Loving, without being possessive. He was happy to let me be the dominant in the bedroom. He was willing to have his hands tied, bottom spanked and being called “Slave”. My fetishes mattered more to Theo than his own pleasure. My husband was content to play the “bottom” to my “Goddess”. I took great care not to degrade him too much as I fiercely loved him. I can safely say that I loved Theo as much as I had loved Lia. As I gazed into Theo’s soft green eyes and caressed the curve of his feminine waist, I realized that he reminded me of Lia. My dead love had been resurrected and returned to me in the form of my beloved husband. For the first time in years, I had a reason to be grateful to God. Theo was the best prize I had won by far.

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