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 Dear Readers,

I would love to hear your thoughts and feelings about this blog. 

Your comments and feedback inspire me to grow as a writer and continue sharing more stories when ever time permints.

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Meena

The Hidden Chapters - 3

 

After a moment, Sindhu mentioned that she was in the mood for a strong coffee. It seemed I was craving the same, so she directed the maid to prepare it. But I wanted to immerse myself further in my newfound role, so I suggested, “I’ll make the coffee with the cook, and bring it to the room.” I smiled, eager to experience the simple act of preparing coffee in this new persona.

I made my way to the kitchen, where the cook was already busy. As this was my first time in the kitchen wearing a saree, I quickly realized that my pallu was getting in the way. Carefully, I tucked it around my waist, allowing me to move more freely. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and I poured the dark liquid into two cups, placing them on a tray with a sense of accomplishment.

As I entered the bedroom, I noticed that Sindhu had gone to the washroom to freshen up. When she returned, I was surprised to see her in boxers and a loose T-shirt, her hair tied up in a casual bun. I had never seen her like this before. Her eyes lit up when she saw me holding the coffee tray, and she winked at me playfully as she sat on the bed.

After settling in, she placed a pillow on her lap and patted the bed next to her. I placed the tray on the table and handed her a cup of coffee, noticing how perfect it felt in my hands. I took my own cup and savored the rich taste of the coffee. “This is really good,” I said, and Sindhu agreed, smiling.

After a sip, Sindhu took my cup from me, and I took hers in return. We both exchanged a smile that said more than words could. Then, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

The happiness must have shown on my face because I couldn’t stop smiling. I nodded, the expression on my face clearly showing that I was thoroughly enjoying this moment.

Sindhu seemed curious, her gaze softening as she asked, “What colours do you like ? What do you enjoy most as a woman?”

After finishing our coffee, Sindhu handed me her empty cup and asked me to place it on the table. However, I wasn’t eager to leave it in the room. Lost in the moment, fully immersed in my new role, I decided to take both cups to the kitchen and place them in the sink. As I walked through the house, I felt an overwhelming sense of connection to this feminine side of myself, so much so that I paused to adjust my saree pleats and pallu in front of the mirror. The soft fabric flowed so elegantly, and I couldn’t help but smile, feeling good about the way I looked.

Just as I was admiring myself, Sindhu called me from the other room. "Come quickly," she urged, her voice a soft yet insistent whisper. A sudden rush of awareness hit me, and I realized I had been so lost in the moment that I had forgotten where I was. In a hurried step, I rushed toward her room.

When I entered, Sindhu asked me to close the door and lock it. The temperature in the room felt cooler than the outside air, a comforting contrast that seemed to envelop us in a more intimate space. As I sat down beside her, I noticed her relaxed demeanor—she seemed at peace, almost serene.

Then, with a soft sigh, she closed her eyes and began to inhale the fragrance of the jasmine flowers that were carefully arranged nearby. The gentle scent filled the air, adding to the tranquil atmosphere. Slowly, she moved her hands toward my waist, and I felt the warmth of her touch as she began to caress it. Her hands softly grazed the edges of my saree pleats, and I couldn’t help but feel a deeper connection to the moment.

I was completely immersed in the emotions of it all, not entirely sure what was happening, but allowing myself to go with the flow. The gentle touch, the intimate atmosphere—it all felt so natural, and I allowed myself to feel every bit of it, not questioning but simply being present in the experience.

Slowly I surrendered to her tender guidance, was made to lie on the bed. Her lips traced a path across my skin—forehead, nose, lips, neck, navel and on my saree pleats, each touch igniting a spark within me. While kissing she kept her hand on my legs and without knowing I lifted my leg. She lifted my saree along with petticoat, exposing my smooth legs. I found myself instinctively responding, my body speaking a language of its own.

 Her movements were slow and deliberate. Though I tried to hesitate, but sensation of her actions and desires left me breathless. My eyes became heavy with emotions. I was just holding her hands allowing her to do what she wants. After caressing my body, she tried to remove safety pins one after the another. With a nod, I granted permission for her to continue. she slowly removed my saree and blouse.  Her fingers danced across my body. All these while I was just closing my eyes and co.operating her actions. She started staring at me for a moment till I open my eyes, when I opened my eyes, she kissed my eyes and slowly removed bra. I resisted to remove my petticoat and panty, however it was not in my control. I was unable to open my eyes, but she took control of my hand, and then I realised, that she was wearing strap on dildo. I felt a momentary shock of surprise. As everything is new for me, I found myself curious and open to this new experience. she slapped on face and made me look at her dildo once again, inviting me to give blow job.

In that wordless exchange, I found the courage to embrace the unknown. With a mixture of nervousness and excitement, I nodded, signaling my willingness to explore this uncharted territory together. I started opening my mouth and she inserted dildo deep inside my throat which became very tough and slowly acted accordingly. After some time, she made me to lick her pussy and she released lot of orgasm, which filled my face.

Once she is satisfied, she made me lie on bed. She slowly whispered that this time, don’t worry you have vagina now and with that she applied lubricants to her hands and inserted in the vagina, which was directly touching my hole and it generated spark in me. As the intimacy deepened, she inserted in my vagina, which was slightly painful for a moment, but was exploring different experience.

After a long, quiet stretch of time, both of us felt the weight of exhaustion. I had unknowingly fallen asleep, resting my head on her hand, and when I woke up, there was a soft, comforting smile on her face. I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep.

She picked up the clothes scattered on the floor—the petticoat, saree, bra, panty and blouse—and in a calm, almost commanding voice, instructed me to wear them. The request, though simple, felt heavy. I hadn't anticipated this tone. I wrapped the blanket tightly around my breast and trying to hide the nervousness that had begun to settle in. I stood up, not sure of my next move, but following her like the only option.

When I walked towards the washroom, she asked, with a quiet authority, that I dress in front of her. I felt a deep shyness surge through me, unsure of where to look, unable to meet her eyes. Slowly, I dressed, my hands trembling slightly as I slipped into the panty,bra, blouse and then the petticoat.  I can feel petticoat and saree had many wrinkles this time, as Sindhu removed saree and petticoat with a force like hungry lion. I adjusted the saree petticoat around my waist.

The act of draping the saree, became a challenge as I focused on getting the pleats correctly and ensuring that it falls exactly in the middle and over the vagina. It wasn’t easy—every fold seemed to require more attention, more patience than I had in me. But I pushed forward, guided by memories of the lessons I had once learned. The jasmine flowers in my hair had become untidy, but Sindhu ordered me to keep the flowers as they were, a symbol of the fragility I felt.

As I stood before the mirror, trying to adjust my bindi, I was startled when she approached from behind. Her touch was firm. She pressed her hand gently on my back, and felt her artificial shaft pressing me from behind, reminding me of the quiet power she held in this moment. I turned quickly, out of an instinct to protect my own space. Her hands moved to hold mine, her gaze locking with mine, and for a moment, there was silence—an unspoken understanding. She kept her hand on my waist where there is gap between blouse and saree

She softly spoke, her voice carrying the weight of something deeper than a command. "Be the lady of this house."

The Hidden Chapters - 2

 

Three months had passed, and life had become a whirlwind of work and responsibilities. As the finance controller for a large multinational company, I was kept busy, with little time to slow down. Meanwhile, Madhu was now six months pregnant, and the time had come for her baby shower. The celebration was beautiful, attended by all our relatives, both of our parents, and even Sindhu and Manoj. It was a joyous occasion, filled with love and warmth.

The following day, Madhu’s parents took her to their home so she could rest and receive proper care during the final months of her pregnancy.

Soon after Madhu left, I received a call from Sindhu, asking me to visit her home after work, preferably between 5:00 and 6:00 PM. Despite my curiosity, every time I asked why, she only responded with a mysterious smile, giving nothing away.

By the time I finished my work and made my way over, my mind was filled with various thoughts. I arrived at Sindhu's house around 5:30 PM, where I was greeted with a cup of tea by the servant. Sindhu then led me to her room, where a beautician was waiting. She immediately asked me to shave off my beard, and without another word, she began to work her magic.

First, she had my entire body waxed, ensuring that no hair remained. Then, I was instructed to bathe with a fragrant floral body wash. Once I was done, she handed me a soft pink bathrobe to wear as I emerged from the bath, feeling both pampered and perplexed by the sudden turn of events.

As the weekend approached, I found myself looking forward to some relaxation and a new experience. The beautician, with a calm and professional manner, asked me to lie down on bed. She began by applying a soothing lotion to my skin and carefully attaching breast forms, reassuring me that there was no need to worry. She explained that I could remove them at any time using a special remover lotion, or simply wait for a few hours.

The treatment continued with a gentle body massage that relaxed my muscles and eased any tension. Then, with a soft touch, she removed the bathrobe and applied a silicone prosthetic (artificial vagina) to enhance my appearance. What caught me by surprise was the way the prosthetic was designed: it had a built-in compartment that accommodated my manlihood (penis), creating a natural and realistic form. The result was remarkable, with a soft, smooth texture that mimicked the feel of real skin. The overall effect gave my figure a more curvaceous shape, with the hips appearing more defined and proportionate, creating a stunning transformation.After fixing vagina, she inserted one finger first and later two fingers. I can really feel some sort of extra meat entering my body. I just closed my eyes, and the beautician whispered, welcome to womanhood with a smile.

She handed me a soft, skin-colored bra and matching undergarments, and I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly I slipped into them. She looked at me with admiration, and then gently adjusted the bra, ensuring everything fit just right.

As I stood up, my eyes wandered over the collection of sarees, each one vibrant and beautiful in its own way. The options seemed endless, and I felt a bit overwhelmed by the sheer variety. After a moment of indecision, I finally chose a delicate floral pink saree, paired with a matching petticoat and blouse. The fabric was soft and luxurious, and I felt an immediate sense of elegance as I slid into the pieces.

The beautician guided me through the process of tying the petticoat, making sure the knot was perfect, and I learned the trick of petticoat so that the saree’s pleats would fall just right. With her guidance, I realized how important every small detail was to create the perfect drape.

As she expertly wrapped the saree around me, I marveled at how gracefully the pleats fell into place, thanks to the subtle curve-enhancing shape created artificial silicon vagina. The entire process felt like a work of art, and I couldn’t help but admire the way the saree clung to me with such elegance.

Next, she carefully placed a wig on my head, explaining how to care for and style it. The hairpiece added a whole new level of sophistication to my look, and she skillfully adjusted it to suit my face. Then came the finishing touches—a light application of makeup to accentuate my features, a touch of lipstick, and a pair of bangles that sparkled with every movement.

Finally, I stood in front of the mirror, taking in the reflection before me. The transformation was nothing short of breathtaking. I felt like a completely different person, poised and graceful, with a newfound appreciation for the art of saree draping and the beauty of attention to detail.

Just as I was admiring myself, Sindhu, placed a delicate strand of jasmine flowers in my hair, completing the look with a final, elegant touch. I smiled at my reflection, grateful for the experience and the confidence it had given me.

My walking style had changed completely. Now, with the curves of my hips swaying gently and the added weight of my silicon breasts, I could feel every movement as I walked, something entirely new and feminine. As I stepped out of the room, the maid glanced at me and seemed momentarily confused, not recognizing me at all. We both smiled and thanked the beautician as she left.

Sindhu guided me to the living room. I didn’t want to risk spoiling my saree. But Sindhu reassured me that nothing would happen, so, embracing the full experience of my new femininity, I softened my hips and sat gracefully on the sofa. 

The Hidden Chapters - 1

 

It was the year 2023 when I, Balaji—Bala to my friends—found myself at the beginning of a new chapter. Newly married to my wife Madhu, our life was everything we had hoped for. We came from different backgrounds, yet our bond was undeniable. Our marriage was an arranged one, a tradition we embraced, and with just a 10-month age gap between us, we were still finding our rhythm.

I had always known that Madhu and I were meant to be. But little did I know, our marriage would soon take a surprising turn that would bring an unexpected connection to the forefront. Madhu was pregnant—our first child was on the way. It should have been the happiest time of our lives, but an unforeseen revelation shook everything we thought we knew.

I learned that my wife’s childhood friend, Sindhu, had played a pivotal role in supporting our marriage. It was Sindhu’s influence that had given Madhu the courage to go ahead with an arrangement that wasn’t exactly free from family complications. Madhu’s parents had been going through financial hardships, and Sindhu, who came from a wealthy family, had quietly helped bridge the gap during our wedding.

But the story didn’t end there. Sindhu herself had recently faced a whirlwind of her own. Her family—equally affluent and respected—refused to approve of her marriage to Manoj, a mine owner with a controversial past. Their disapproval wasn’t just about their vast age gap of 12 years but also the fact that Manoj was a divorcee with two children from his previous marriage. His story, full of twists, was as far from ideal as Sindhu’s family would have liked. They felt his past and age difference would be an obstacle to her happiness.

And yet, despite the familial objections, Sindhu and Manoj had chosen love over societal expectations. Now, only a handful of close friends supported their union, with Madhu and me as the most unexpected allies.

Our relationship with Sindhu grew even more complex as we learned more about her history. The circumstances surrounding Manoj’s first marriage were anything but simple. After a difficult divorce, he was granted custody of his son while his ex-wife kept their younger child. The scars of their past were still fresh, and that, too, had created a ripple of tension among both families.

But love, as they say, is often not the most logical choice. Amid all this turmoil, Madhu and I found ourselves not just supporting Sindhu, but also grappling with the implications of our own choices.

As Sindhu’s wedding day approached, the lines between family loyalty and personal beliefs began to blur. There were whispers, judgments, and unspoken fears. But through it all, Madhu and I stood by her—our friendship with Sindhu becoming a symbol of defying societal norms and embracing love in its truest form, no matter how unconventional.

This was just the beginning of a journey that would forever change our lives, our relationships, and our understanding of family.

The marriage between Sindhu and Manoj went well, but Madhu was struggling with morning sickness during her pregnancy and couldn’t attend the evening party that Manoj & Sindhu hosted. The event, held at a lavish hotel, featured an assortment of delicious foods and drinks.

During one of our conversations, influenced by alcohol, Manoj casually revealed that the another reason Sindhu’s parents hadn’t accepted their marriage was that Sindhu had been undergoing psychological treatment. She had confided to her parents that she wasn’t interested in a physical relationship with men and instead was in a lesbian relationship with my wife, Madhu. Surprisingly, Manoj was okay with this. He explained that he was willing to forgo physical intimacy with Sindhu as long as someone was there to care for his child. He also believed that Sindhu could contribute significantly to his business, given her MBA from a prestigious institution.

With a hint of a smile, Manoj casually mentioned that after going through a painful divorce, he had come to appreciate the physical aspects of a gay relationship, particularly with a male-to-female crossdresser. As he spoke, his fingers gently caressed my left hand, and without thinking, he placed it on his right thigh. I was taken aback, completely shocked and unsure of how to respond. In that moment, a strange and unexpected urge surged within me to share something deeply personal—that I’ve always secretly enjoyed crossdressing, revelling in the freedom of wearing women’s clothes when I’m alone. But the words stuck in my throat. I hesitated, afraid of what the consequences might be. The revelation about my wife’s relationship with Sindhu was still echoing in my mind, leaving me disoriented and unsure of how to process everything that had just unfolded.

My mind felt like it had frozen, and without realizing it, I found myself on my fourth drink. Sindhu approached us, her smile shy but warm, and I, being polite, congratulated her once more on her wedding. She asked about Madhu, and I was taken aback. Madhu and Sindhu had kept their relationship a secret, and I hadn’t expected Sindhu to bring it up so casually. As she spoke, I noticed her eyes subtly shift to my hand resting on Manoj’s thigh. The brief exchange of smiles between Manoj and Sindhu didn’t go unnoticed, but I couldn’t make sense of it.

Sindhu sat across from me, her phone resting on the table as she adjusted the blouse beneath her saree's pallu. She pulled the pallu over her shoulder and tucked it neatly to the side. It was as if she was waiting for my reaction, and I felt both awkward and intrigued. I didn’t realize that both she and Manoj were observing me closely. My gaze fell on the design of her blouse, and she caught me looking. With a playful glint in her eyes, she asked me what I thought of her saree and blouse. At a loss for words, I simply said, “It’s beautiful.”

Her eyes widened, and she replied, “I’ll show you more when we move into our new house, just a kilometer away.” I was left speechless, noticing her phone buzzing with messages. Some were from Madhu, my wife, and others were from Manoj, sitting right beside me.

Just then, Manoj excused himself for a moment, and Sindhu took the opportunity to reveal something I never saw coming. She explained, with an apologetic tone, that she and Madhu had been keeping their relationship a secret from me. She said Madhu was happy with me, and she hoped I would accept their connection and embrace it.

I was utterly confused by the sudden revelation. Sindhu quickly added that I shouldn’t ask Madhu about it—she was three months pregnant, and this was a delicate time. She grasped my hands, and her touch sent a chill through me, despite the four whiskey shots I’d consumed. I took a deep breath, unsure how to process everything. Then, almost without thinking, I blurted out something I hadn’t intended to share: “I used to crossdress... I’ve sacrificed that part of me for the sake of our marriage.”

The words felt like a heavy truth spilling from my heart. I was about to leave, overwhelmed by everything, when Sindhu gently took my hand and led me somewhere. I had no idea where we were going, but I followed her without protest. She took me into her room, handed me a glass of water, and the room fell into a heavy silence. For what felt like an eternity, we didn’t speak. Then, to my surprise, Manoj entered the room to check if everything was okay.

Sindhu politely asked him to leave, telling him to manage the guests while she stayed behind with me. As soon as he left, she excused herself to the bathroom. I glanced around the room. The bed is scattered with various items—brightly colored saree petticoats, elegant nightgowns, and scattered makeup items like lipstick, eyeliner, and a compact mirror .I found myself inexplicably drawn to them. My fingers brushed over the fabric, and a flood of memories and emotions rushed through me.

 

Just then, Sindhu returned, her presence quiet but commanding. She asked softly, "Do you like them?" Her question hung in the air, but I remained silent, caught in my thoughts. Before I could respond, someone knocked at the door, and Sindhu quickly left to meet the guests. Left alone in the room, I felt an overwhelming temptation that I couldn’t resist. Without fully thinking, I began to remove my clothes, tied on the petticoat, and slipped into one of the nightgowns. Standing before the full-length mirror, I admired my reflection, lost in the moment.

I was wearing a soft pink saree petticoat and a black nighty with a front zip. The fabric felt incredibly smooth against my skin, and as Sindhu and I were of similar height and build, the outfit seemed to fit my body almost perfectly. My fair complexion added to the allure, and as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of the moment. The only issue was that lack of breast, which caused the nighty to sit a bit awkwardly at the top, not quite fitting the way it was meant to. I turned gently, admiring how the fabric draped over me. In that moment, I instinctively smoothed the dress from behind, just like a woman would, before sitting down on the bed, feeling the softness of the petticoat & nighty envelop me.

I lost track of time, completely immersed in my thoughts. Eventually, the door creaked open, and I turned to find Sindhu standing there, her gaze fixed on me. As I glanced at her reflection in the mirror, I realized she was standing just behind me. A wave of fear washed over me, and I couldn't bring myself to meet her eyes. But then, gently, she placed her hands on my shoulders and turned me toward her. My head hung low in embarrassment, but with tenderness, Sindhu lifted my chin, her touch filled with warmth and care.

She smiled and complimented my choice of dress, her voice soft and reassuring. But then, with a hint of guidance, she mentioned that a matching petticoat would complete the look. With a gentle motion, she opened her suitcase and pulled out a black petticoat, offering it to me with a quiet suggestion to wear it. Her concern for the smallest details spoke volumes of the care she always showed.

She smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding, and said, "You are who you are, and here, you can live your life as you choose. Be yourself with us, and the outside world doesn’t need to understand." With those reassuring words, she gently placed a bindi on my forehead, her touch soft but empowering. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, a quiet assessment that felt both accepting and comforting before she gestured for me to sit beside her.

Before the conversation began, Sindhu stood up, walked over to the door, and closed it with a soft click, ensuring our discussion wouldn’t be interrupted.

Sitting down next to me, she began to ask questions with a calm yet gentle curiosity. "How long have you been crossdressing?" she asked, her voice steady but kind. "What draws you to it? What kind of clothes do you feel most comfortable in?"

The alcohol haze still lingered, but a strange clarity washed over me. I had never imagined this conversation would unfold like this, nor did I think I would be caught in such a vulnerable moment. Despite the swirl of emotions, I began to speak honestly, one answer flowing into the next. "It started when I was around 10 or 12," I said, remembering the quiet moments of my childhood. "Back then, I would sneak into my mom’s wardrobe and try on her clothes. I always felt a connection to traditional Indian outfits. There’s something about them that makes me feel complete, like they align with something deep inside me."

The weight of the truth felt lighter with each word, and I found myself opening up more than I ever expected.

She asked softly, "Does Madhu know about this?" I replied, "No." Sindhu studied me for a moment before asking, "Do you want to keep dressing in secret? And would you be okay if I shared this with Manoj?"

A wave of anxiety washed over me, and I hesitated before answering. "I'm terrified about the consequences for my family. What would my wife and my parents think?" I confessed, my voice tinged with worry.

Without a word, Sindhu gently placed her finger on my lips, silencing me. Her gaze was steady, reassuring. "This stays between you, me, and Manoj. Not even Madhu, your wife, will know. Is that alright?" she asked, her tone calm but firm.

I was taken aback by her words—it was a surprise, but somehow, I felt okay with it. Before I could process my thoughts, Sindhu pulled me into a warm hug and whispered, "I’ll buy you lots of things to help you feel like the beautiful lady you are."

I was a little confused by her statement, unsure of what she meant. But before I could ask, she picked up her phone and dialed her beautician, exchanging smiles through the phone as they spoke. As she chatted, she began jotting things down on a piece of paper—items like breast forms, artificial vagina, butt pads, hair wigs etc.,

After our conversation, Sindhu walked over to me with a gentle smile. She reassured me, saying, "Don’t worry, you can be Balaji for Madhu, but for me and Manoj, you’ll be Madam Bala from now on. Just be yourself with us, and we’ll take care of you and Madhu." She leaned in and kissed my forehead, her voice warm and comforting. "If you ever want more vanilla vodka, red wine, or a Cosmopolitan, just let us know."

With that, she suggested I switch from the pink petticoat to a black one, to match the nightgown I was wearing. As I stood to head to the washroom, she gently held my hand and guided me to change in front of her. While I was adjusting the petticoat, she kindly advised, "When tying the knot, do it on the right side—it'll make it easier when you wear sarees in the future.

She complimented the way I tied the knot on my petticoat, then gently adjusted my nightgown. With a soft, lingering touch, she guided me to the wall and kissed me tenderly. "Stay here with me tonight," she whispered, her voice full of affection. However, knowing that Madhu was alone at home, I felt compelled to leave. After a moment, she released me, and I quickly changed into my clothes and rushed back home.

As I made my way home, my mind raced with everything that had happened throughout the day. It all felt surreal, and by the time I reached the door, I was still processing it. I was greeted with a warm smile from my wife, and something in her expression made me wonder if Sindhu had already spoken to Madhu—she seemed to know something.

A few minutes later, Madhu came over to me, hugged me tightly, and as she helped me change, she thanked me. "Thank you for understanding my relationship with Sindhu," she said softly.

I looked into her eyes, my heart full of warmth, and replied, "You've always been my strength. I completely understand your feelings, and I know that even Sindhu is like a partner to you. I can see how hard you work to balance both of us, and I love you even more for it."