It was a normal day in college when a senior, standing with his group of friends, looked at me with a mischievous grin. "You have to do it, or else…" he said.
"Do what?" I asked, feeling confused.
"Become a girl for a day tomorrow," he laughed, his friends snickering in the background. "If not, you'll be locked in the supply closet with bugs for the whole night!"
I froze. "But why?" I asked, my heart racing.
"Because we said so, freshie!" one of his friends added, and they all burst into laughter.
I had heard about ragging in college, but this… this was something else. They weren’t just teasing—they wanted me to actually dress like a girl. The thought of spending the night in the closet with bugs was worse than anything else. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do. I didn’t want to get in trouble, but the idea of dressing like a girl felt so strange to me.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. The more I thought about it, the more nervous I became. The next morning, I forced myself to get up, feeling like I was walking into the unknown.
The next day, I woke up early, my nerves already on edge. After a quick shower, I dried myself off with a towel, still feeling uncertain about what I was about to do. A senior girl knocked on my door and handed me a bag.
Inside the bag were clothes, makeup, and accessories. I pulled out a soft pink top made of light fabric, feeling how smooth it was against my skin. It was delicate, and I had never worn something like this before. There was also a short skirt, a bright yellow one, which looked fun but felt strange to hold.
"You’ll look great," the senior girl said with a smile.
I hesitated for a moment before changing into the clothes. The skirt felt much shorter than what I was used to, and I found myself tugging it down, trying to keep it in place. The pink top fit well, and I started to feel a little more comfortable.
Next, she handed me a pair of pink ballet flats. They were cute, but I had never worn shoes like this. They made me wobble as I slipped them on, but once they were on, they felt light and comfortable.
Then came the makeup. I watched as she showed me how to apply foundation to even out my skin. I dabbed some blush on my cheeks, giving them a rosy glow. My hands were shaky as I brushed mascara over my lashes, trying to make my eyes look bigger.
Finally, she did my hair. It was long and messy, but she carefully combed through the tangles and tied it in a simple ponytail with a pink ribbon. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The girl staring back at me had soft curls, bright makeup, and an outfit that seemed to shine. I smiled shyly. "Wow… I look different," I whispered.
With only an hour left to present myself to the seniors, I realized I needed to leave immediately.
With only an hour to go, I stepped out of my room, feeling completely out of place but trying my best to hold my head high. As I walked through the college halls, I couldn’t help but feel every pair of eyes on me. Some students stared, others whispered, and I kept walking, trying to ignore the feelings of embarrassment creeping in.
The senior girl had told me to meet the seniors at the courtyard. My heart pounded as I approached the group, who were gathered under the shade of a large tree. They all looked at me, some smirking, others with expectant faces. It was clear they were waiting for me to show up as promised, and I had no choice but to face them.
The moment I arrived, they began to circle around me like a pack of wolves, inspecting every part of my appearance. "Not bad," one of the seniors said, eyeing my dress. "You’ve done okay for yourself."
I felt self-conscious, but I stood as straight as I could, hoping that they would leave me alone soon.
"How do you feel?" one of the seniors asked with a teasing smile.
"Uh… nervous," I admitted, feeling my cheeks turn red. "But I guess… okay?"
"Well, you look pretty good for a guy dressed as a girl," another senior added with a grin. "But let’s see if you can handle the rest of the day, huh?"
The rest of the day was an emotional rollercoaster. After the seniors inspected me, I had to go about my usual routine. But this time, everything felt different. I had to go to class, walk across the campus, and interact with students—dressed as a girl.
In class, I kept my head down, trying to blend in. I could feel the eyes of my classmates on me. Some looked at me with curiosity, others with amusement. I tried to focus on the lesson, but my mind kept drifting. Every time I reached into my bag to pull out a notebook, I was acutely aware of how the skirt felt against my legs, how the soft fabric swayed with each movement.
During a break, a few of the girls in class came over to chat. They were friendly and complimented me on my outfit. "You look so cute today!" one of them said. "I never thought I’d see you in a skirt!"
Their kindness made me feel a little better, but I couldn’t stop feeling self-conscious. I felt like everyone was watching me. Even when I went to the cafeteria for lunch, I noticed people staring. Some smiled, others raised an eyebrow, but all I wanted was to finish the meal without drawing attention to myself. I quickly ate and excused myself, eager to return to the safety of my room.
Later in the afternoon, there was a college city tour arranged by the seniors. "You’ll be fine," the senior girl assured me. "You’ll have fun and see the whole city as a girl today!"
I hesitated, but the thought of spending the day out of the college felt like a chance to reset. I joined the group, feeling my nerves rise again as we walked through the bustling streets of the city. My ballet flats clicked against the pavement, and I could feel the weight of the skirt with every step. As we walked past crowds of people, I couldn’t help but feel that I stood out. Some tourists smiled, others took pictures, and I had to smile back, even though I felt awkward inside.
Despite the discomfort, there was something exciting about seeing the city in such a new way. We visited several historical sites, stopping for photos along the way. Every time the group stopped to look at a landmark, I found myself getting more comfortable. The laughter and casual conversation made me feel a little more relaxed, and I started to enjoy the experience.
As the day wound down and the tour came to an end, I realized how much I had learned about the city—and about myself. The awkwardness from earlier had
The next morning, I woke up to find a new challenge awaiting me. "There’s a dance competition today," the senior girl explained. "And you, freshie, are going to participate."
My heart skipped a beat. Dancing was never my thing, especially not in front of everyone. But I had no choice. I had promised to go through with this, and now I had to take it a step further.
She handed me a new outfit—a bright red dress with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt that reached just above my knees. The fabric shimmered in the sunlight, making me feel like I was about to perform in a stage show. I slipped into the dress and paired it with matching red heels, trying my best to keep my balance. The heels were higher than I expected, and I wobbled a bit as I stood in front of the mirror.
The senior girls helped me with my makeup again, applying darker eyeliner and a bold red lipstick to match the dress. I felt like I was getting more and more used to the routine, but the thought of dancing in front of everyone still made me nervous.
When it was time to head to the competition, I joined the other participants in the dance hall, where the music was already playing. There were other girls dressed in colorful costumes, and I felt out of place in my red dress, but I pushed that feeling away.
The music started, and I followed the steps as best as I could. It was awkward at first—my heels were difficult to move in, and I stumbled a few times. But as the song went on, I began to relax. I found a rhythm in my movements and felt the joy of dancing, even though I was still dressed as a girl. By the time the music ended, I was out of breath but also oddly proud of myself.
After the competition, people clapped, and I felt a mix of relief and happiness. I didn’t win, but I had survived, and that was enough for me.
The morning of Day 3 arrived, and I was feeling surprisingly okay despite the strange situation I had found myself in. I had survived the first couple of days—each one more challenging than the last—but now I was starting to feel like I could actually pull this off.
On the final day of my transformation, I woke up feeling both exhausted and proud. It had been a whirlwind, but I was almost at the finish line. The senior girls handed me a new dress—a soft, flowing green dress that felt more comfortable and natural than any of the others.
The dress was simple, yet elegant, with a light chiffon fabric that swayed with each movement. It was paired with tan sandals, which were much easier to walk in than the heels I had been wearing the past few days. My hair was styled in loose curls, and my makeup was more natural, focusing on a soft glow.
By now, I had gotten used to the routine—getting dressed, applying makeup, and adjusting to the different situations. Today felt different though. Instead of focusing on how I looked, I focused on how I felt. I had grown more comfortable in my body, and I had started to realize something important: it wasn’t just about the clothes or the makeup. It was about how I carried myself.
I spent the day reflecting on the challenges I had faced and how far I had come. I had danced in front of a crowd, participated in a city tour, and even dealt with the teasing from the seniors. It was tough, but it had made me stronger and beautiful.
When I looked in the mirror, I wasn’t just a guy dressed as a girl anymore. I was actual girl.
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