The Hidden Chapters - 17

 

The Bridal Transformation

After the shared laughter faded into affectionate silence, the parlour lady sat up on the bed, smoothing her sari with practiced ease.

“Alright, enough of teasing,” she said with a playful grin. “It’s time to turn our bride into the goddess she is.”

Sindhu helped me sit up, brushing her fingers softly down my back. “Come on,” she whispered, “today is your night. Ours too.”

The parlour lady took my hand and led me into the dressing area. The room had already been set—warm yellow lighting, a wide mirror framed with tiny bulbs, and trays filled with brushes, makeup, bangles, flowers, and neatly folded garments.

She gestured for me to sit.

I did, and soon, I felt the transformation begin. First, she helped me into hip-enhancing artificial silicon vagina and this time its much softer and very much like my skin colour. She placed it perfectly so that my manliness completely covered and neatly placed. It created perfect shape for me and I can feel no traces of my manliness is visible. She made me lie on the bed and adjusted to ensure it fixed properly. Later she gave soft cotton lacy panty.

Just as I was sitting there, wondering what was going on, Sindhu walked into the room with a big smile on her face.

“Did you give her the treatment yet?” she asked the beautician.

“Almost,” the lady replied, getting things ready.

Sindhu sat beside me and gave me a cheeky grin. “Bala, guess what? Manoj is really excited about you and he is waiting for tonight.”

I looked at her, a little confused. “Why? What did he say?”

She leaned in closer, her eyes full of mischief. “He wants everything to be perfect for the first night. He wants to see you looking your most beautiful... and feel you close. So, we’re doing a little beauty magic to help with that.”

I blinked. “Beauty magic?”

Sindhu giggled. “It’s a simple, safe treatment—just a bit of saline injection. It’ll give your figure a lovely, soft shape for the day. Nothing permanent, just something special for tonight. Like a little fairy-tale touch and he wants you to breast feed him and treat him like a lover boy”

I blushed. “And... he really said all that?”

“Oh yes,” she teased, nudging my shoulder. “He said he wants to hold you so close tonight, he might never let go. You’re his dream come true, and he wants to enjoy every moment.”

I laughed shyly, covering my face. “Sindhu, stop teasing!”

She laughed too. “I’m just saying, Bala… tonight, you’re going to make him fall in love all over again.

The beautician finished preparing the materials and gave me a reassuring smile. “It’s just a small saline-based treatment. It’s temporary and safe—it helps enhance your natural shape just a little for the evening.”

I glanced at Sindhu, who gave me a playful wink. “Trust me, Bala, it’s going to make you feel gorgeous.”

I nodded nervously, and the beautician began. The treatment itself was surprisingly gentle—just a small series of injections, done with care and precision. I barely felt a thing, but within minutes, I noticed a subtle change.

My figure slowly began to shift, softening and becoming a little fuller in the right places. My chest looked more pronounced—elegant and natural. I glanced down and realized that my chest perfectly filled 34C dress size. Not exaggerated—just balanced, flattering, and graceful.

I couldn’t help but touch my arm gently to my side, surprised by the softness and shape. “Wow… that’s really something.”

Sindhu grinned. “See? Told you! You look absolutely radiant, Bala. Manoj’s going to be speechless.”

I smiled shyly, a warm sense of confidence spreading through me. It wasn’t just about how I looked—it was how I felt. For the first time in days, I wasn’t just nervous. I was excited.

Tonight really might be something special.

I couldn’t help but glance down, noticing the soft fullness that now shaped my figure. My chest looked rounder, more defined—elegant, even. The change wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough to make me pause.

Is this really me? I wondered, gently touching the curve of my side. It still felt like my body, just… different. Softer. More feminine. More present.

There was a strange, fluttering sense of awe in me. I had never seen myself like this before—so complete, almost maternal in some way. That thought made me blush. It was strange, even silly, but part of me wondered... Could there be milk? I knew it was only a saline treatment—nothing real, nothing lasting. But the fullness felt so real, so alive.

And somewhere deep within me, a tender thought emerged: I wish I could care for Manoj in that way—hold him close, make him feel safe. Not in a literal sense, but in the quiet, emotional way that deepens intimacy—offering comfort, love, and closeness.

I looked away from the mirror, my cheeks warm. I didn’t know what tonight would bring, but for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of it.

Then a padded bra and adjusting my newly formed breasts with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to shape a body into its desired form.

Next came a shade of pink cotton petticoat. As the fabric swirled around my legs and hugged my waist, I felt myself shifting—not just physically, but emotionally. This wasn’t dressing up. This was stepping into something sacred.

“Raise your arms,” she instructed, slipping a golden yellow blouse over me. It hugged the new curves perfectly, soft and firm in all the right places.

Then came the saree—a rich, vibrant pink with orange border red silk with gold zari work. Sindhu entered quietly and stood behind me, watching each fold being pleated, tucked, and draped with grace.

The parlour lady’s hands worked with elegance, pulling the pleats tight at my waist, letting the pallu fall delicately over my shoulder.

“Now, the hair,” she said.

She opened a box and brought out a stunning wig—long, jet black, and slightly wavy. She secured it over my hairline with gentle fingers, combing it neatly down my back. Then, she adorned it with jasmine garlands, pinning the flowers into the hair until the room filled with their sweet scent.

Sindhu stepped closer, her eyes full of emotion. “You look... divine.”

The parlour lady applied the finishing touches—kohl lining my eyes, a deep red bindi in the center of my forehead, sindoor brushed lightly at the parting of the wig. She fastened gold-colored jhumkas to my ears, slipped glass bangles onto my wrists, and tied a waist chain delicately around my hips.

I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the reflection. Not because it was different—but because it was true.

I was the bride. Their bride.