Soft Femboy in Making

The next morning Priya is already awake, tracing slow circles on your bare stomach under the pink crop top.
“You were very quiet last night,” she says softly. “Even when you saw the marks.”
She shifts closer. Her fingers slide higher, brushing the underside of your small breast.
“I had a nice time last night,” she murmurs. “The dress was doing a lot of work. Every time I leaned forward I could feel eyes on me. At one point someone stood really close… his hand rested on my waist longer than it needed to. And later…” She lets the sentence hang, smiling against your shoulder. “Let’s just say he was very appreciative of the view.”
Your breath catches as her thumb slowly strokes over the soft curve of your chest.
“It felt good,” she admits. “Having someone look at you like they want to touch. Having them actually touch. The way a mouth feels when it’s being greedy on your skin… it’s a very specific kind of warm.” She presses a soft kiss to your neck. “I kept wondering what it would feel like if someone looked at you that same way. If they touched these instead.”
Her hand cups your small breast more fully now.
“They’re getting nicer, you know. Softer. The skin is starting to feel silkier too.” She rubs her thumb in a slow circle around your nipple until it tightens. “Imagine someone else’s hands doing this. Someone who really likes how soft boys feel.”
She sits up a little and pulls your crop top higher, exposing both small, perky breasts. Her fingers trail over them lightly.
“I want your skin to feel like this all over. Soft. Smooth. The kind that makes men want to keep their hands on you. And these…” She gently lifts each small breast. “I want them to fill out just enough that when someone cups them, they feel perfect. Not big. Just pretty and sensitive and nice to play with.”
She leans down and places a slow, open-mouthed kiss on the soft upper curve of your left breast, right where a love bite might sit.
“Doesn’t that sound nice?” she whispers against your skin. “Someone’s mouth right here. Their hands on your waist. Looking at you the way men look at me when I wear those dresses… but softer. More focused. Because some of them prefer this version.”
Your breathing has gone shallow.
Priya smiles down at you, eyes warm and a little darker than before.
“I’m going out again this weekend. Another dress. Maybe the red one that shows almost everything when I bend. I’ll come home and tell you everything… how they looked, if anyone touched, what it felt like.” Her fingers keep playing gently with your small breasts as she speaks. “And while I’m gone, I want you wearing something even softer. Maybe that new white spaghetti top and the tiny grey shorts. Hair down. So when I get back and tell you all the dirty details, you’re already in the right headspace to imagine it happening to you instead.”
She kisses the tip of your nose, then your mouth, slow and sweet.
“You don’t have to ask questions you don’t want to ask,” she says quietly. “You can just listen… and feel… and let the idea settle.”
Then, for the first time, she gives you a little more.
“I like having a man who is… manly. The kind who takes what he wants without asking permission. The kind who leaves marks and doesn’t feel guilty about it.” Her voice stays soft, almost confiding. “And I like coming home to a husband who is becoming the opposite. Soft. Pretty. Quiet. The kind who looks at the marks and gets hard instead of angry.”
She watches your face carefully.
“That’s part of why I’m doing this to you, Karthik. Not the only reason. But a big one.”
The words settle in your stomach like hot weight.
She has a man on the side.
A manly one.
And she is turning you into the soft, pretty husband who waits at home while she goes to him.
You don’t ask his name.
You don’t ask how long.
You just lie there with your small breasts under her hands and feel the humiliation and the strange, shameful heat twist together.