Soft Femboy in Making

Three days pass.
Priya keeps the soft nighties coming. Every evening there is a new one waiting on the bed — dusty rose, soft mint, light peach. Each one sits a little differently on your body. You tell yourself you’re only wearing them because she likes it, but you stop arguing when she hands them to you. The fabric has started to feel familiar against your skin.
Thursday evening the doorbell rings again.
This time it’s Vikram.
He stands on your porch with a small smile and a bag of Karachi bakery biscuits from the Indian store, looking almost the same as he did in college — a little softer around the edges, hair a bit longer, eyes still warm and a little shy when they meet yours.
“Karthik,” he says, and the way he says your name feels too gentle.
Priya welcomes him in like she’s been expecting this exact moment. She takes the biscuits, offers coffee, and then — with perfect timing — remembers she promised to call her sister about something urgent. She disappears into the bedroom with her phone, leaving the two of you alone in the living room.
The silence stretches.
Vikram sits on the couch across from you. His eyes move over you in quiet glances — the soft grey kurta Priya had laid out earlier, the way it rests against your chest, the slightly narrower line of your waist. He doesn’t stare openly the way Arjun does, but the attention is still there. Soft. Familiar. Hungry in a careful way.
“You look… different,” he says finally, voice low. “In a good way. Softer.”
Your ears burn. “Priya’s been making me try new clothes. For comfort, she says.”
Vikram’s mouth curves into a small smile. “It suits you.” He looks down at his hands for a second, then back up. “I always thought soft things looked nice on you. Even back then.”
The old messages flash through your mind. You shift in your seat, suddenly very aware of how the kurta fabric moves when you breathe.
Priya stays away for almost forty minutes.
When she finally returns, her smile is sweet and knowing. Vikram doesn’t stay much longer after that. At the door he gives you a brief, warm hug that lasts half a second too long. His hand rests lightly on your lower back before he pulls away.
“I’ll come by again soon,” he says, eyes lingering on your face. “If that’s okay.”
After the door closes, Priya walks up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, resting her cheek against your back.
“So,” she murmurs, voice full of mischief. “How did that feel?”
You don’t answer right away.
She turns you around and walks you backward toward the bedroom, still smiling. “Don’t be shy now. I left you alone on purpose.” She pushes you onto the bed and climbs over you again, settling on your hips. “Tell me. Did you like the way he looked at you?”
Your throat feels tight. “…He was just being nice.”
Priya laughs softly and leans down until her lips brush your ear. “Nice doesn’t look at your chest like that, Karthik. Nice doesn’t get quiet and soft-voiced when he says you look ‘softer.’” Her fingers trace the front of your kurta. “That man likes pretty boys. He always did. And tonight he was looking at you like he was happy to see you becoming one.”
Heat floods your face.
She sits up and starts unbuttoning the kurta slowly, eyes never leaving yours. “I think both of them prefer femboys,” she says conversationally, like she’s discussing the weather. “Arjun with those calm, hungry eyes… and Vikram with that soft, proud little smile. They don’t look at women the same way. They look at you like that.”
Your breath catches.
Priya finishes opening the kurta and rests both palms on your bare chest, thumbs brushing lightly. “And you didn’t pull away from either of them. Not really.” She tilts her head. “I think some part of you already likes the attention.”
You open your mouth to deny it, but the words don’t come.
She smiles like she just won something and leans down to kiss you, slow and deep. When she pulls back, her voice drops into that warm, rhythmic tone she uses for hypnosis.
“Lie back… relax for me… That’s it…”
Your eyes flutter.
“It’s okay to enjoy it when men who like pretty femboys look at you,” she murmurs. “It’s okay to feel warm when their eyes stay on your body. You’re allowed to like it… You’re allowed to want more of it…”
The suggestions sink in deeper than before.
When she finally brings you back, your heart is still beating too fast and your skin feels too sensitive.
Priya strokes your hair and whispers, “Good. We’re going to keep going. Soft clothes… soft body… and more of those private little moments. I want to see how much you can learn to enjoy being desired by men who prefer boys like you.”
She kisses your forehead.
“Sleep. Tomorrow we start working on making this chest a little prettier for them.”
You close your eyes.
Somewhere next door, Arjun’s house is quiet.
Somewhere in Frisco, Vikram is probably still thinking about the way the soft kurta had rested on your body.
And beside you, your wife is smiling in the dark, already planning the next private step.