Soft Femboy in Making

Three days later Priya has a late client call that will keep her in the spare room for at least an hour. She knows Arjun is coming over. She also knows exactly what you are wearing — the pale lavender spaghetti dress that sits low enough to show soft cleavage and high enough to leave most of your thighs bare.
“I’ll be busy,” she says simply before closing the spare-room door. “Entertain him.”
When Arjun arrives and sees you, he doesn’t pretend to be surprised this time. His eyes move over the dress, the small curves of your breasts, the smooth exposed thighs, and something relaxed and hungry settles into his expression.
“She’s not joining us?” he asks.
“She’s on a call.”
Arjun closes the front door behind him and steps further inside. His voice is calmer than before, more open now that it is just the two of you.
“Good.” He sets the papers down without looking at them. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you without her in the room.”
Your heart starts beating faster. You stay standing, the short dress suddenly feeling even shorter.
Arjun’s eyes stay on your body as he speaks.
“I’ve liked soft boys for a long time. Not just a little. A lot. There’s something about a boy with a cute face and a body that’s turning feminine that gets to me in a way women never quite do.” He takes a slow step closer. “The way your chest is starting to look under that dress… those small, soft breasts… the way your thighs look when the fabric rides up. It’s the kind of pretty that makes me feel proud just being allowed to look.”
You feel heat rise in your face. Your voice comes out quiet.
“…Proud?”
“Yeah.” Arjun’s smile is small and honest. “It feels like winning something. Most men never get to see a boy this soft up close. Watching you blush, watching you stay still while I look at your chest and legs… it makes me want to keep you like this. Soft. Embarrassed. A little weak.” His eyes drop openly to the line of cleavage showing above the neckline. “I think about touching them. Playing with them. Seeing how sensitive they’ve become. Making you feel even more feminine just from how I handle your body.”
Your thighs press together almost without thinking. The humiliation is sharp, but so is the warmth spreading low in your stomach.
“I shouldn’t like hearing that,” you admit, voice small. “But part of me gets quiet when you talk like this. Like I don’t want you to stop.”
Arjun’s eyes darken with clear pleasure.
“That’s the best part about boys like you. You feel the humiliation and still lean into it. You get warm from the same words that make you blush.” He lets his gaze travel slowly over you again. “I think about dressing you up myself sometimes. Choosing the dresses. Adjusting the straps so your cleavage shows just right. Then sitting back and enjoying how pretty and weak you look.”
You swallow hard.
“I… think about that too,” you confess, embarrassed heat flooding your cheeks. “Not all the time. But when I’m alone. What it would feel like if you or Vikram actually touched me. If someone who likes femboys played with these.” Your hand flutters near your small breasts and then drops. “It makes me feel so soft. And I hate how much I don’t hate it.”
Arjun lets out a low, pleased breath.
The front door opens again before you can answer.
Vikram steps in, then stops when he sees the two of you. His eyes move from Arjun to you in the short lavender dress, lingering on the soft cleavage and bare thighs. A slow, knowing smile touches his mouth.
“Am I interrupting?”
Arjun doesn’t look away from you. “No. We were just talking.”
Vikram closes the door and walks closer, his gaze hungry and open now that Priya is not in the room.
“Good. Because I’ve been wanting to say a few things without an audience too.” His eyes rest on your chest. “You’re getting prettier every time I see you. Those little breasts are filling out so nicely. And your thighs… fuck. A dress like that on you is dangerous.”
You feel both of their attention on you at once. Your voice is barely above a whisper.
“You’re both staring so much it makes my stomach feel tight. Embarrassed. But I keep not covering up.”
Vikram’s smile turns sharper with desire.
“That’s what we like,” he says. “A femboy who feels the embarrassment and still stays soft for us. Who lets us talk about his body out loud. Who gets quiet and warm when we tell him how much we want to touch him, tease him, make him feel weak.” He takes another step closer. “I think about making you sit on my lap in a dress like this. Letting my hands explore everything the fabric doesn’t hide. Watching you blush and bite your lip while I enjoy how feminine your body is becoming.”
Arjun adds, voice low, “And the pride comes from knowing you could stop it… but you don’t. You stay. You listen. You get softer every time we tell you what we want to do to you.”
You stand there between them, face burning, small breasts rising and falling a little faster under the thin dress, thighs exposed, the humiliating truth sitting heavy and warm in your chest.
“…I like when you talk like this,” you admit, so quietly it is almost hard to hear. “It embarrasses me more than anything. It makes me feel weak and feminine and… wanted. And I keep letting you do it.”
Both men look at you with open, hungry satisfaction.
The kind of look that says they know exactly what they are winning.
And that they intend to keep winning it.
From the spare room, Priya’s voice is still talking on her call.
She has no idea how much further the conversation has already gone.
Or maybe, you think with a fresh wave of embarrassed heat, she planned it exactly this way.