Soft Femboy in Making

Saturday morning Priya measures your chest with a soft tape. The softness is no longer just a hint. There is a clear, small swell on each side now — tender, slightly puffy, the beginnings of real shape.
“They’re coming in nicely,” she murmurs. “Still small, but the shape is already there. Soft. Perky. Exactly what I wanted.”
That afternoon she takes you to the lingerie section. She makes you try on the first real bras in the fitting room. The moment the soft fabric settles and lifts the tender flesh, something in your stomach drops. It looks different. It feels different. When you glance in the mirror, the shape is suddenly obvious — small, rounded, distinctly feminine.
Priya stands behind you, chin on your shoulder.
“There,” she says quietly. “That’s what I’ve been growing. Pretty little things. Imagine Arjun’s face when he sees the outline of these under a shirt. Or Vikram’s voice when he notices.”
Evening. Arjun comes to return tools. Priya leaves you alone with him on purpose. You are wearing one of the new soft shirts over the new bra. The fabric follows the small, supported shape of your chest more clearly than anything you’ve worn before.
Arjun’s eyes move over you once… then again, slower.
“You look different,” he says, voice calm but lower than usual. “Softer.”
His gaze drops openly to your chest and stays there for a second longer than polite. There is no shame in it. If anything, he looks quietly pleased.
“It suits you,” he says. “Some of us prefer this. A lot more than the regular thing.”
When he leaves, Priya cups the small, warm shape under your shirt and makes you admit it again:
You liked his eyes on you more than you liked watching men stare at her.
“That’s the proof I keep collecting,” she whispers. “Every time men look at me or touch me and you don’t get angry… every time you get warmer when the same kind of attention turns toward you… you’re showing both of us what you really are.”