Lipstick on Weekends

Lipstick on Weekends

Part 6: Dates, Dresses, and Dangerous Feelings

Three months passed.

And with them, any last thread of resistance Naveen had left.

The New Normal:

Weekends had settled into a rhythm that felt terrifyingly normal.

Naveen... or rather, Nandhini - would wake at 4:45 a.m., brush, bathe, and begin the slow, intimate ritual of becoming someone else. She would glue on her prosthetic breasts - now warm and real-feeling, heavier than before. Smooth the pubic patch, so seamless now that even he forgot it was fake.

She’d wear a bra, sometimes not, depending on the outfit. A slip or a camisole if Aarthi demanded it. Eyeliner, compact, lip balm. Now, she even applied perfume - “Fogg blossom,” Aarthi’s favorite.

Every movement was calculated - from how she crossed her legs in class, to how she tilted her head while listening to doubt-clearing sessions. She was no longer pretending to be a girl. She simply was one, for two full days each week.

The humiliations hadn't stopped, but they’d changed shape. They were no longer shocking ,just a part of her second life.

Getting cramps from heels. Changing fake pads in public washrooms. Having to adjust a wedgie quietly during class. Accidentally letting her voice slip into a boyish tone and getting a weird look from another girl.

But even her discomfort now had routine.

Even her shame had found a rhythm.

And right in the middle of this rhythm… came Vasanth.

Texts and Soft Disasters:

He texted every week.

Not flirty at first - just curious. Casual. Then charming. Then... warm.

Nandhini found herself replying late at night. During class breaks. Even while lying in bed in a pink nighty, removing her nail polish with cotton and acetone.

She learned he was 20. His father owned a logistics empire across Tamil Nadu.

He loved books but preferred movies. Drove a black Mustang and a Kawasaki Ninja. His favorite food was parotta with butter chicken.

He liked that she was “real” and “mature” and “refreshing.”

He called her Nandhu.

Once, when she didn’t reply for half a day, he sent a voice note that just said: “Missing your tiny voice.”

She played it five times. Then blocked him for two hours. Then unblocked.

Aarthi teased her relentlessly.

“He’s going to fall flat.”

“He already has,” Nandhini muttered once without thinking.

The Ask:

One Thursday night, her phone buzzed.

Vasanth: “This Sunday... coffee? Proper date?”

Her fingers paused.

Her heart beat faster.

She typed and deleted. Then finally wrote:

Nandhini: “Let me check. Maybe :)”

She showed the screen to Aarthi next morning.

Aarthi squealed. “Aiyo, date?!”

“Just coffee,” Nandhini muttered, turning red.

“You're going, kanna. Don’t argue. I’ll pick your dress. And your heels. Maybe lashes too.”

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Obviously. My girlfriend is going on a date with a guy she low-key likes.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Sure. That’s why you kept his voice note like it’s a Thalapathy ringtone.”

The Dress Ritual:

Saturday night was a fashion disaster zone.

Aarthi brought three dresses: one sleeveless pink skater dress, one full-sleeve peach chiffon with ruffles, and a navy-blue A-line satin dress with a sweetheart neckline and thin straps.

“This one,” she said firmly.

Nandhini stared. “No bra?”

“Trust your boobs. Those sisters aren’t going anywhere.”

She helped her into the dress. Fitted it tight, smoothed out the lines, added a light shimmer lotion to her shoulders.

A soft chain, glossy lip tint, a small white clip for the wig.

Then she handed her a folded jacket. “Wear this over until you meet him. After that, strip.”

“You’re mad.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Sunday: The Ride

That morning’s class was a blur.

The dress was folded under a loose kurti. Nandhini sat stiffly, barely hearing anything. Aarthi kept passing notes:

“Smile wide.”
“Don’t let him touch your waist.”
“Keep your legs crossed when sitting.”
“Don’t eat like a goat.”

At 11:45 a.m., they left the centre.

She stood outside, nervously fixing her hair when the familiar vrrrm of a sports bike tore through the lane.

It was a matte black Kawasaki Ninja. Vasanth pulled up in jeans, a white t-shirt and sunglasses.

“Hey, angel,” he smiled.

Nandhini flushed. Aarthi whispered, “Enjoy da, Mrs. Ninja,” and nudged her forward.

Vasanth handed her a helmet. “Hop on.”

The Date:

They rode through Peelamedu and to a quiet café on Race Course Road.

Nandhini clung to his back tightly on the bike, terrified but... thrilled.

The café was rooftop - quiet, laced with windchimes and jasmine.

They spoke.

He asked about her dreams. She lied carefully - stuck to coaching, “hoping to become doctor,” said she lived with her aunt.

He said he wasn’t sure what he wanted - maybe to take over his dad’s company, maybe run away from it.

They laughed about their teachers, about Coimbatore’s chaotic buses, about how awkward first dates were.

He called her pretty.

She rolled her eyes.

He stared when she didn’t look.

They shared a chocolate cake.

He wiped a drop off her lip with his thumb.

And her heart stopped for a second.

The Goodbye:

He drove her back slowly.

The breeze played with the ends of her wig. Her heels tapped against the foot pegs. Her stomach twisted with feelings she didn’t know how to name.

Near her street, he stopped.

“Hey.”

She looked at him.

“I really like you, Nandhini.”

Before she could say anything, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss - soft, lingering - to her forehead.

“I know I don’t know everything about you. But what I do know… I like a lot.”

She stared. Blinking.

“Okay?” he smiled.

She nodded.

He revved the bike once and disappeared into the corner.

She walked back home, shoes in hand.

That night, in the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror — dress wrinkled, lipstick fading, cheeks still flushed.

She looked like a girl who’d just had her first real date.

And the worst part?

She didn’t want it to be her last.

Lipstick on Weekends

Part 7: Whispers at Home, Echoes Within

It started small.

But mothers always noticed.

And sisters they noticed first.

Monday Blues and Lingering Lipstick

It was a Monday morning when Naveen came out of the bathroom after his shower. His hair, slightly longer than before, was brushed into a side-part. His skin glowed faintly thanks to the moisturizer Aarthi gave him.

His sister, Real Nandhini, was sipping tea in a faded tee.

“Da... your eyebrows look shaped,” she said, eyes narrowing.

“Huh? Just combed them,” he muttered, brushing past.

She frowned, watching him disappear into the bedroom.

Inside, Naveen closed the door softly. He leaned into the mirror.

She was right.

The brow arch was still visible. Last week, Aarthi had plucked them lightly “for symmetry.”

He wiped at them with a wet tissue, suddenly paranoid. His lips were also pinker than usual — leftover tint, probably.

“Che,” he whispered. “Slip aagudhude.”

The Phone Calls:

On Wednesday night, he was curled on the divan in the hall, legs tucked under a blanket, whispering into his phone.

His voice had changed softer, careful, musical. A whisper of Nandhini still inside him.

His mother peeked from the kitchen, drying her hands.

“Naan dinner ready pannitten da.....eh?” She paused.

He was giggling. “Nooo Vasanth, I didn’t lie! Seri okay, okay, tomorrow I'll send.”

He didn’t notice her.

The way his voice melted when he said "seri," the way he played with the hem of his kurta - it didn't feel like her son.

“Yaaru da?” she asked, entering softly.

He jolted, fumbled, dropped the phone.

“Just... classmate,” he said, hurriedly disconnecting.

She smiled thinly, nodding. “Hmm. Okay.”

But her eyes lingered. Something had changed.

Not overnight. But slowly. Like sunlight shifting on a wall.

The Weekend Returns:

The next Sunday evening, he returned from coaching centre late around 7:15 p.m.

Nandhini was on the verandah scrolling reels when she looked up.

He got off the bus and walked toward the house with a light step.

He still had kajal on. His wig was hidden under a shawl, but a small section of fake hair peeked out.

He was wearing Aarthi’s loose kurti. His dupatta had tiny shimmer threadwork.

And worst of all?

He was still in heels.

Not stilettos - but chunky block sandals. Worn enough to look casual. But very, very wrong on him.

“Oi,” Keerthana said, standing up. “You came dressed like this across the town?”

“I had no time,” he mumbled, stepping inside quickly.

She followed. “Dei, you’re seriously doing this full-time-aa?”

“It’s just weekend coaching,” he snapped. “Nobody knows.”

“Except me. And maybe amma.”

He went silent.

That night, after dinner, she knocked softly on his door.

“Dei,” she said from outside. “Vera level-a pogudhu da idhu. Amma already suspects something fishy”

He didn’t reply.

Inside, he was trying to unstick the breast prosthetics, wincing every time the gum peeled. His chest felt sore. His heart even more.

Amma’s Quiet Observations:

His mother didn’t say anything for days.

She watched him more closely, though.

He had started sitting differently legs tucked in, shoulders narrow.

He spent longer in the bathroom.

He had stopped protesting when his sister teased him.

And once, when Nandhini caught him watching a lipstick haul on YouTube, he didn’t even bother switching tabs.

“Just bored,” he said weakly.

That Friday, when he came back from school, she casually asked:

“Nee weekend-ku enga pora da? Nee coaching dhaana pogura?”

He hesitated. “Aama.”

“Then why do you always come back smelling like perfume?”

He froze.

She didn’t press further.

But that night, she sat on her bed for a long time, folding clothes silently, eyes distant.

The Smallest Things:

One evening, she opened his drawer to keep his school socks.

Tucked at the back, inside an old geometry box, were two things:

A tiny bindi pack

A female perfume

She sat down slowly.

For a few minutes, she did nothing. Then she closed the drawer and left.

Later, while making sambhar, she stirred slower than usual. Her eyes stared into the boiling lentils, lost.

Kitchen Conversation:

Saturday morning, as Naveen adjusted his prosthetics in the locked bathroom, Keerthana leaned on the kitchen counter and whispered to her mother.

“Amma… avan maari poitan nu theriyudhu la ungaluku?”

“aamma maari poirukkaan,” her mother said simply.

“What are you going to do?”

“He’s still our boy. Or girl. I don’t know yet. But I’ll wait.”

“But why is he hiding it?”

“Because he doesn’t know who to be when he’s not hiding.”

That Night:

That Sunday night, Naveen returned home again dressed down this time, hair hidden, lips bare.

Still, his body language betrayed him.

He walked lighter. His nails had been filed. His fingers moved with softness. His voice had softened further.

At dinner, his mother served him an extra ladle of rasam and smiled.

“You ate well today?”

“Hmm.”

“Romba tired-a iruka?”

He nodded.

She stroked his hair once.. gently.

Then said, “Next week, take care while washing your face. Your foundation shows near the jawline.”

His spoon stopped mid-air.

Nandhini smirked from across the table.

And for the first time, Naveen didn't panic.

He simply exhaled.

Lipstick on Weekends

Part 8: Sarees, Secrets, and the Ceasefire

Eight months had passed.

What started as a joke, a one-time favor, had become a carefully choreographed second life. Naveen had learned to breathe as Nandhini. Weekends no longer felt like a costume change they felt like an alternate reality.

In that reality, Aarthi and Vasanth existed like parallel universes - two polar stars pulling him in opposite orbits.

He'd grown closer to both of them.

With Vasanth, there were rides on his Mustang, slow dinners, sweet forehead kisses, and voice notes that made Nandhini blush late into the night.

With Aarthi, there was laughter, teasing, shared eyeliner, clothes-swapping, and whispered chats on bunk beds.

He’d had dates - with both.

He didn’t know what he was to them. Or to himself. But he was... happy. Mostly.

Academics hadn’t slipped either. School had grown manageable. Coaching classes were smoother now - Nandhini had gained a reputation for sharp answers and neatly maintained notes.

Then, one afternoon, the announcement came.

The Cultural Bomb

“Since finals are nearing,” said the centre coordinator, “we’re hosting a cultural day next weekend. Dance, music, drama - just for stress relief.”

Aarthi immediately raised her hand. “Miss, we’ll do a group dance!”

“We?” Naveen asked that evening.

“Yes,” Aarthi said, wickedly grinning. “You, me, and two others. All girls. Full glam.”

He blinked. “Aiyo. No da. I’ll mess up.”

But Aarthi wasn’t hearing it. “Also,” she added, “your saree has already arrived.”

“My what?”

“Saree. From Vasanth. Kanchipuram silk. Blue with gold border.”

He wanted to faint.

Transformation: Saree Edition

That Sunday, he woke at 4:30 a.m. The saree lay on the bed, folded with reverence.

Auntie arrived early. “Today full makeup, kanna. Saree photos come out cruel if not done right.”

Glueing the prosthetics was harder this time - the blouse was sleeveless and tight. Auntie even added highlighter on the collarbones. A tiny bindi. Heels. Long false lashes.

By 7:45 a.m., he stood in front of the mirror in full costume.

The saree clung to his waist, pleats tucked tightly. The pallu pinned over the bust shimmered like a moonlit stream.

His wig was braided with jasmine.

He looked... traditional. And heartbreakingly feminine.

His inner voice whispered: “This is too real.”

The Dance

The coaching centre hall was packed.

Music blasted from rented speakers. Parents had been allowed. So had guests.

When Nandhini’s group was called, his hands were shaking. But Aarthi gave his palm a quick squeeze.

“Smile. You’re the prettiest,” she whispered.

He stepped onto the stage. Lights blinded him.

The beat dropped.

And then - magic.

They twirled, stepped, spun in symmetry. The crowd cheered. Phones flashed.

He didn’t think. He just danced.

By the time it ended, he was sweating inside the blouse, breathless, thighs sore from the pleats restricting movement. But he was... glowing.

A girl from another batch came up and said, “Akka, nee semma cute.”

He wanted to cry.

Ceasefire

After the dance, as he sipped water backstage and wiped his forehead, both Aarthi and Vasanth showed up.

Aarthi in a maroon crop top and skirt. Vasanth in his white shirt and shades.

“You were beautiful,” Vasanth said.

“Hot, but sweaty,” Aarthi added.

“I need to change,” Naveen muttered.

“No time,” Vasanth said. “I’m taking her.”

“Excuse me? We had plans,” Aarthi glared.

“You always have plans.”

“I’m her best friend!”

“I’m....” he paused. “I like her.”

They both turned to Naveen.

He stood frozen. In full saree. Hair braided. Lipstick half faded. Armpits damp. Feet aching.

“I.... can I just go home?”

“No,” Aarthi said.

“No,” Vasanth echoed.

Then Aarthi sighed. “Fine. Ceasefire. We both take her.”

Vasanth nodded. “Deal.”

The Ride

A Range Rover was waiting.

Nandhini sat in the back seat, still in saree, fidgeting with her pallu, as the two argued about where to stop for food.

“Biryani!” Aarthi shouted.

“No, parotta!” Vasanth countered.

“Guys,” she said softly. “Anything’s fine.”

They looked back at her.

She looked tired, but radiant.

The ride was filled with laughter, teasing, light music, and wind through the windows. At one point, Vasanth reached back and held her hand. Aarthi took the other pouting.

They drove through town like that - the three of them.

A bizarre triangle.

The Declaration:

At the final stop - a park near Singanallur lake - they sat under a tree, still arguing.

Finally, Aarthi threw up her hands.

“You know what? I don’t care anymore.”

“Me neither,” Vasanth said.

They both turned to Nandhini.

“You’re our girlfriend,” Aarthi said.

“Our shared girlfriend,” Vasanth added.

Nandhini blinked. “Is this some prank?”

“No,” Aarthi grinned. “It’s your punishment. For being this adorable.”

She didn’t reply.

But her cheeks burned.

Her saree was sticking to her back. Her bra strap was itchy. Her earrings ached.

But inside her?

There was silence. A strange, happy silence.

She didn’t know what she was anymore.

But she was loved.

Lipstick on Weekends

Part 9: In Between Heartbeats and Hidden Rooms

The 12th board exams came and went like a fever dream.

Naveen... or rather, Nandhini - had survived them. Sleepless nights. Mock tests. Exam halls. All while living two lives. And now, with boards done, the real beast stood ahead: NEET.

The coaching centre turned full-time. Weekdays and weekends. Morning till dusk. It was no longer about subtle disguises. It was immersion.

Every day began before sunrise. Transformation was as routine as brushing teeth. Breast prosthetics, the gum that glued them, the panty that held the silicone pubic illusion in place everything was done with clockwork precision.

No one questioned her identity anymore. Nandhini was a coaching centre regular, a good student, Vasanth’s soft-voiced “friend,” and Aarthi’s irreplaceable “girlfriend.”

But inside, Naveen was slowly unraveling.

Full-Time Nandhini:

The two months after the exams became the most immersive part of her double life. With school obligations over, every day was a new test of femininity. Her body had adapted. Even the discomfort had dulled into background noise.

Each morning started with gumming on the prosthetic breasts, a near-permanent fixture now. The realistic silicone hugged her body like a second skin. The new pubic patch was so seamlessly merged that, even to herself, it felt disturbingly real. Sometimes she’d catch herself standing in front of the mirror for too long, examining the way the panty hugged the false curves. Was this what her body had become?

Classes at the centre were relentless, but the social layer made it heavier. Nandhini wasn’t just a student now - she was popular. Teachers knew her. Girls borrowed her scrunchies and lotions. Boys greeted her awkwardly. Strangers complimented her complexion and bangles.

She had group chats with other girls. She laughed in voice notes. She was tagged in memes, some teasingly romantic, some mockingly girly. She sent selfies with filters. Her digital life had become indistinguishable from any other 20-year-old girl.

And Vasanth… Vasanth had become part of her routine.

Every few days, he’d wait outside the centre. Some days he brought milkshakes. Some days just a folded note tucked into her palm. They never needed too many words. She began to expect his presence. Miss it when it wasn’t there.

One evening, she had forgotten her compact in class. When she returned, it was Vasanth holding it gently, waiting. “You left your armour,” he said. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Aarthi, on the other hand, had woven herself into every inch of Nandhini’s private world. From messages to stolen accessories to girly secrets. Every night, their chats would last till one of them fell asleep... mid-sentence.

Wednesday - Vasanth’s House:

That particular Wednesday, when the centre announced a surprise holiday, Vasanth called before 6 a.m.

“You’re coming home with me. No excuses.”

“What?” she croaked, voice thick from sleep.

“I already told my mom. She’s making special kootu and rasam. Wear something light. It’s hot.”

He sounded excited. And maybe, for once, she was too.

She chose a lemon yellow kurti, soft cotton, with floral leggings. Auntie glued the prosthetics early extra secure. A matching yellow clutch. She braided her wig and used jasmine oil to give it a sweet scent.

By 9, they were on the road. He drove his Mustang calmly, eyes focused. She kept adjusting the dupatta - her nervous habit.

His house was bigger than she imagined. High walls. Mango trees. A lawn that looked like it belonged to a movie set.

Inside, everything was neat. Marble floors. Elegant lamps. A curved staircase. A helper greeted them.

“Aunty,” he called, “she’s here.”

Vasanth’s mother came out in a green silk saree, smiling wide.

“Nandhini, kanna! Finally! I was waiting to meet the girl who stole my son’s peace of mind.”

She blushed.

Lunch was set in the formal dining room. Paneer curry. Rasam. Steamed rice. Paruppu usili. Vasanth’s father joined them - calm and reserved.

Questions came. “Which branch of medicine?” “How do you manage in the heat?” “Do you oil your hair every day?”

She answered carefully, voice soft. But inside, she was drenched. The fake breasts were sticky. Her thighs ached from the leggings. Her earrings felt like rocks.

After lunch, Vasanth pulled her upstairs.

His room was dreamy. Blue walls. A reading nook. Stacks of sci-fi books. Photos of him as a child even one in a Krishna costume.

“I never thought I’d bring someone here,” he said.

She sat on the edge of his bed, eyes drifting. “Your mom is lovely.”

“She likes you. But I like you more.”

He sat beside her. Took her hand.

“I’ve never liked girls. Or boys. Just… never felt anything. Until you.”

She didn’t look up.

“I know your secret. I’ve always known. I guessed long ago.”

Nandhini was scared thinking whether he knew the truth...
Her eyes widened.

“I know you too like me, didn't say it because you looked scared. But I want you to know I’m not afraid. You make me feel normal. Like… I’ve found someone who doesn’t fit either box. And that’s perfect.”

Tears welled up, relieved that his secret is not out but different humiliation. He gently pulled her into his arms.

“Do you want to lie down for a bit?”

She nodded.

They lay on his bed, side by side. His hand resting on her stomach.

He slowly placed kisses along her forehead, then her temple, then her jawline. Gentle. Unhurried.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he whispered.

She touched his cheek. “Just this is enough.”

They stayed like that, breathing the same breath.

Before she left, his mother handed her a small bag.

“A silk stole. You’ll look lovely in it.”

Saturday - Aarthi’s Visit :

That Saturday, Nandhini was out on a study trip.

Amma was too tired to cook much. Naveen had just finished morning classes. The moment he stepped in, a message blinked:

Aarthi: “Coming in 20 mins. Dress cute!”

Panic mode. He tossed his boy clothes into the loft. Changed the bedsheet to floral. Swapped his school photo on the wall with a random scenery frame.

She arrived in a peach dress, holding a bakery box and two shopping bags.

Inside were:

Ice cream cake

A see-through white nightie

A packet of red lipstick

And a pair of silver anklets

“Aunty, I’ll steal Nandhini for one hour,” she declared.

They shut the bedroom door.

“You smell like rose water,” Aarthi said, nuzzling her.

She made Naveen try on the nightie. Then the anklets. Then sat behind her brushing her wig while giggling.

“You know, if I marry a boy, he has to be like you. Sweet. Shy. With no hair on his legs.”

Nandhini laughed nervously. “You’re crazy.”

They ended up on the bed. Legs tangled. The scent of powder and kajal in the air.

“I’ve kissed two boys. I hated both. But you…”

Aarthi rolled closer.

“I want to kiss your shoulder. Can I?”

Nandhini nodded, barely.

Aarthi leaned in, pressing her lips on the exposed skin of the nightie’s strap.

“You’re my favourite confusion,” she whispered.

Her hand travelled up - just brushing the padded chest - then settled over Nandhini’s heart.

“Can I stay tonight?”

Nandhini blinked. “need to ask my mom…”

Aarthi laughed. “Next time then.”

She stood up, fixed her lipstick, and smacked Nandhini’s cheek with a peck.

“Tell your breasts I said bye,” she winked.

And left.

That night, Naveen lay in bed, tangled in the scent of perfume and lipstick.

The fake chest rose and fell like it belonged.

Two messages blinked:

Vasanth: “When you left, my pillow still smelled like you.”

Aarthi: “I want to steal your anklets and your heart. Which first?”

He smiled.

He was Nandhini now.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

Lipstick on Weekends

Part 10: Pondicherry, Promises, and Pink Waves

A week had passed since NEET. Naveen...no, Nandhini - had written the exam under his own name, but everything else about his life now clung to the feminine. It was almost humorous how the one time he presented as a boy again felt like dressing up in someone else’s clothes.

Now, with school and centre both done, life was still busy - emotionally. The mornings were quieter, the mirror more revealing. The breasts bonded to his chest moved with his sighs. The long black hair, oiled and curled slightly from nightly braids, slid over his bare shoulders when he tilted his head.

His body had stopped protesting long ago. Now it was only his mind that flickered, back and forth, unsure what role it was playing anymore.

But there were distractions.

Vasanth came to visit almost every other day - sometimes pretending it was to drop off old notes, sometimes just to share mango juice and sit quietly beside her.

Aarthi was louder - always texting, calling, asking for skincare tips or sending reels of girlfriends being cute with each other. Some nights they'd fall asleep during their calls, the screen lit with their sleeping faces.

The Proposal of a Trip:

Then came the messages. First Vasanth:

“Let’s go on a trip. Just you and me. Pondicherry?”

Then Aarthi:

“Beach trip!!! Just us girls. You, me, bikinis. 💕”

And somehow, both discovered the other’s plan.

Vasanth: “Excuse me? She’s coming with me.”

Aarthi: “Dream on. She's mine this weekend. We planned this during waxing day.”

Vasanth: “Then we both go. I’ll drive.”

Aarthi: “Fine. She sits on my lap then.”

Nandhini: “Ungaluku vera velaiye illa ma? I'm not luggage 😭”

Agreement was reached. Two nights. Pondicherry. No family. Nandhini told her mom she’d be at Aarthi’s. Auntie arrived the day before for the most intense transformation yet.

The Deepest Transformation:

At 5 a.m., Auntie arrived with a suitcase of materials and determination.

“You’re going swimming. Bikini. I’m not letting anything come off.”

Nandhini was already shaved smooth, every inch of her. Auntie cleaned her chest and pubic area with alcohol wipes before beginning the prosthetic routine.

The breasts were now flesh-colored silicone domes with realistic areolas. They bonded with a warm-set adhesive, spreading evenly into her skin. She winced when the glue touched - icy, then sticky - before settling like flesh.

“They'll jiggle, move, even feel cold if you're out in the breeze,” Auntie said proudly. “Don’t run. Just sway.”

Next came the new pubic insert. This version wasn’t just visual - it was functional. Molded with a hidden urination funnel that bent when she sat.

“As besties, we should urinate together🫣” Aarthi had whispered once.

Auntie used hot water to shape the base to her lower body, sticking the folds seamlessly with medical-grade adhesive.

By the time it was done, Nandhini couldn't tell where her body ended and the prosthetic began. She stood up and felt… weirdly natural.

She slipped into a soft pink bra and panty set trimmed with lace. A matching cotton frock followed. Auntie curled her hair into natural waves, painted a light foundation with shimmer, and gave her a little silver bindi.

“You’re glowing,” she smiled.

Her suitcase was filled by aarthi: short summer dresses, comfy nightwear, accessories, makeup, beachwear, towels, pads, and two bikinis.

One was a pale pink, frilled, bow-tied bikini with a sheer white sarong - Aarthi’s gift.

“Too cute for your own good,” Auntie said, zipping it.

The Ride:

Aarthi arrived first - denim skirt, white bustier crop top, round glasses. She wore no bra.

“Hot girl energy only,” she declared.

Nandhini wore a flared mint green dress, lips glossy, anklets jingling. They posed for a selfie, which Aarthi immediately uploaded to her story: Beach babes loading 💋.

Vasanth drove in with a black BMW M5, wearing aviators, a sleeveless tank, and a smug grin.

“Double trouble,” he said, whistling. “Shotgun goes to the prettier one.”

“That’s me,” Aarthi said, pushing Nandhini into the front seat.

The drive was long. The road curved through farms and towns. Music filled the car — Tamil melodies, some romantic, some teasing.

At one point, Aarthi leaned forward. “Nandhu, what if you had to marry one of us?”

Nandhini laughed awkwardly. “You’ll make me crash the car.”

Vasanth leaned in. “Answer or you’re walking.”

She blushed. “Both of you are dangerous.”

The Arrival:

The resort was lush. Wooden floors, white curtains, coconut trees, and a room that smelled of rose incense.

Their suite had two large beds. But Aarthi grinned, “Let’s all sleep together. Like cuddle pile.”

Nandhini freshened up and changed into a lemon-yellow cotton maxi with side slits. Her new beach slippers sparkled.

They went shopping at the French Quarter, bought bangles, and ate ice cream on the beach road. Vasanth bought her a thin silver toe ring.

“Now you’re taken,” he whispered.

🌸 The Bikini Experience 🌸

Back in the resort room, the soft murmur of ceiling fans mixed with the distant hum of beach waves. Nandhini stood barefoot near the mirror, her eyes locked onto the bed.

The pink bikini lay there like a dare. Light blush pink with tiny bows, flouncy edges that looked like cotton candy, and halter ties that needed precise, delicate fingers. Beside it sat a sheer white sarong transparent enough to tease, just enough to pretend to cover.

Her stomach flipped.

“I can't,” she whispered, but her hand had already picked up the bikini top.

Slowly, she undressed. Standing in just her skin-toned bra and panty, she peeled them off, revealing the seamless prosthetics. She still flinched a little when she saw herself bare flat between the legs now, soft on the chest, everything realistic. Too realistic. The room’s AC hit her goosebump-prone skin as she pulled the bottoms up. They clung. High-waisted, hugging her hips like a second skin. The tiny frills fluttered with every breath.

So exposed...

She fumbled with the top, wrapping it around her chest and tying it behind her neck. The pressure on her fake breasts made her wince. They jiggled slightly with each movement, the top lifting and pressing like second skin.

When she finally looked at herself in the mirror, she froze.

Her long curled hair flowed like a river over her shoulders. The soft pink against her fair skin looked innocent, teasing. The sarong fluttered down, sitting low on her hips. Her navel peeked through. Everything looked… real.

“Po da,” she muttered to herself. “Even my own reflection fools me.”

The door creaked.

Aarthi stepped out of the bathroom in a plunging black monokini that had cut-outs along the ribs and deep V down to her navel. She was adjusting her hoop earrings.

“DAAAAAMN,” she breathed, seeing Nandhini. “Kadavule… you’re illegal.”

Nandhini covered her chest. “Why did you pick such a revealing bikini?”

“Because you’re that girl now,” Aarthi grinned, spinning her around, adjusting her straps. “You have the body. Flaunt it.”

“I feel naked,” Nandhini mumbled.

“You are practically naked. That’s the fun!”

Before she could protest more, Vasanth’s knock came. The girls wrapped thin towels around themselves and stepped out onto the boardwalk.

👣 On the Beach

The sand was warm and stuck between her toes. The breeze pulled at her hair and lifted the sarong. Her cheeks flamed as Vasanth turned around from adjusting the mat he brought and stared.

His mouth opened. No words.

“You’re...”

“Too much?” she tried, tugging the sarong lower.

“Too beautiful,” he finished, voice low, eyes not moving.

Nandhini’s stomach churned. Not with fear - but with that deep, confusing flutter she was getting used to around them.

Aarthi elbowed him. “Control pannuda. She’s still my girlfriend.”

They ran toward the water.

The cold splash hit her thighs first, then her waist. Her breath hitched as the bikini fabric clung to her now-wet prosthetics. She could feel it shift slightly, dragging the tied halter top lower. Her chest felt heavier. She adjusted quickly.

A sudden wave knocked her slightly. “Aiyo!” she squealed, grabbing Aarthi’s arm.

Her sarong floated up.

“Nandhu, your frills are dancing,” Aarthi teased. “The beach has no shame, so why do you?”

“Don’t stare!” she shouted toward Vasanth, who had clearly frozen mid-sip of juice.

“Not staring,” he replied innocently. “Just appreciating art.”

They laughed.

Nandhini, still flushed, took slow steps into the deeper end. The bikini felt heavy now -waterlogged. Every motion made her too aware of her body, the bounce of the chest, the cling at her waist.

And yet, she didn’t feel like she was acting.

🏐 Games and Close Calls

They played frisbee. Aarthi kept throwing it wide on purpose so Vasanth had to chase it, giving her time to tease Nandhini with splashes and back-hugs.

Once, the frisbee bounced off Nandhini’s shoulder. She turned to grab it, slipped, and shrieked.

Vasanth sprinted in, arms catching her mid-fall. His hand found her waist, his face too close.

“You alright?” he asked, breathless.

Nandhini nodded slowly, but she was sure he could hear her heartbeat thudding like a drum.

“Why does your heart beat so fast?” he murmured.

“It always does… around you two,” she admitted softly.

Aarthi swam over, splashing them both. “No stealing moments without me.”

“Possessive,” Nandhini said, but leaned into her.

They huddled together, heads almost touching, as a wave broke behind them.

☀️ Tanning and Teasing:

After swimming, they lay down on beach towels. Aarthi removed her wrap completely, letting the sun kiss every inch of her skin.

Nandhini, still modest, adjusted her sarong to cover more, but Aarthi tugged it away.

“Tan lines are hot. Trust me.”

Vasanth placed a chilled coconut beside her and traced her anklet with his finger. “Did I ever say how beautiful your feet are?”

“Eww,” she laughed. “Don’t be a feet guy!”

“I’m an everything-about-you guy.”

Aarthi leaned over and kissed her cheek. “He means he’s simping.”

Their fingers intertwined - Nandhini in the center.

She looked up at the sky, sun warming her soaked skin, and wondered if heaven felt anything like this.

Night and Firelight:

That evening, they sat around a private bonfire.

Nandhini wore a tight, red velvet dress. Off-shoulder. High heels. Aarthi applied lipstick - dark cherry.

They toasted marshmallows. Shared stories. Vasanth showed childhood photos. Aarthi mimicked teacher voices.

Then, without warning, both turned serious.

They knelt.

Velvet boxes.

“Choose,” said Vasanth.

“Or choose both,” added Aarthi.

Inside both boxes: identical silver rings.

Nandhini stood frozen, the fire reflecting in her eyes.

“I’m not even real,” she whispered.

“You’re more real than anyone,” Vasanth said.

"NO NOT THAT, I HAVE SOMETHING TO CONFESS", Nandhini said crying