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.
The senior girls handed me a new outfit: a gorgeous blue dress that shimmered in the light. It had delicate silver details sewn into the fabric, and the skirt flared out slightly, giving it a princess-like feel. The dress was elegant but a little more formal than the ones I had worn before. I slipped into it, adjusting the waistline and smoothing out the fabric.
My reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. The deep blue dress looked sophisticated on me, and the silver details added a touch of glamour. My hair had grown longer over the past few days, and the senior girls carefully styled it into loose waves, adding a flower pin to complete the look. I was still unsure, but the dress made me feel like I was stepping into a new role.
"You're going to look amazing today," one of the senior girls told me, smiling.
I was nervous about the day ahead, but I had no choice but to embrace the transformation. I paired the dress with a pair of low heels, my feet still getting used to the feeling of shoes like this, but they were comfortable enough for the day.
The day passed with a mix of emotions. I was more comfortable in the dress now, though still nervous every time I caught someone looking at me. The classes seemed to drag on as I tried to concentrate, but I found myself more at ease than before.
During lunch, I joined the girls from my class who had been kind to me the day before. They complimented me on the dress, saying it looked like it was made for me. They even asked if I was enjoying the experience of dressing up. I shrugged and said, "It's different, but not terrible."
Later that afternoon, I had to attend a college city tour that had been organized by the seniors. The idea of leaving the college grounds for the first time in this outfit was nerve-wracking, but the senior girls assured me it would be fun. The group gathered outside, and we set off on foot to explore the city.
I felt the eyes of strangers on me as we walked through busy streets. The dress swished with every step, and my ballet flats clicked against the pavement, which made me feel like I was in a dream. The bright sunlight highlighted the shimmering silver details on my dress, and I was hyper-aware of how I looked.
As we passed by various landmarks, I tried to keep my composure. Some people smiled at me, while others gave me puzzled looks. It felt strange—like I was living in someone else’s body. The tour itself was interesting, though. I was fascinated by the old architecture, the bustling market streets, and the rich history of the city. But I couldn’t help feeling a sense of vulnerability, knowing I was dressed so differently than usual.
Despite the awkwardness, there were moments when I could forget about the strange situation. We stopped for ice cream in a quaint little café, and the group laughed and chatted, taking photos. Slowly, I started to relax, letting go of the worry that had consumed me earlier.
By the time we returned to the college, I was exhausted but strangely proud. I had made it through the tour, and even though I was still not fully comfortable in my role, I felt a small sense of accomplishment. Maybe I wasn’t just pulling this off—I was actually starting to enjoy it.
The next morning, the seniors told me there was a dance competition being held that evening. "You’re participating, freshie," they declared. "You’ll dance in front of everyone."
My heart sank. I was not a dancer, and the thought of performing in front of an audience made my stomach churn. But this was part of the challenge, and I had to go through with it.
That morning, I was given a red dress. It was bold and dramatic, with a fitted bodice and a skirt that flared out as I moved. The color was fiery, and the design was more extravagant than anything I had worn before. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for something this flashy, but I couldn’t back out now.
The senior girls helped me get dressed. The heels were a bit higher than what I had worn before, but I still managed to walk in them without tripping over my feet. They gave me a pair of red earrings, matching a red lip gloss that shimmered as I applied it. My makeup was more intense today—dark eyeliner to highlight my eyes and a brighter blush to complement the bold dress.
I couldn’t stop staring at myself in the mirror. I looked like someone who belonged in a ballroom dance competition, but the reality hit me: I had to dance.
By the time we reached the competition venue, I was jittery. My stomach was in knots, and I wasn’t sure I could go through with it. But the moment I entered the hall, I saw how many others were participating, all in beautiful outfits like mine. I was struck by how confident the other girls seemed, dancing gracefully with their partners.
I was assigned a dance partner—a senior who had apparently been in many competitions. He smiled reassuringly at me and held out his hand. "Don’t worry, I’ll guide you through it."
The music started, and I felt my nerves build up again. The first few steps were shaky, but my partner was steady, guiding me through the routine. I tried to focus on the beat, following the steps as best as I could. The heels weren’t easy to dance in, but I managed, spinning and stepping in time with the music.
At first, I felt awkward, my movements unsure. But as the dance went on, I started to lose myself in the rhythm. The crowd’s cheers and claps gave me the encouragement I needed. By the end of the routine, I was breathless but smiling.
When the music ended, I stood there, hoping it was good enough. To my surprise, the crowd cheered louder. We hadn’t won, but the experience was unforgettable. I had danced in front of everyone, in a red dress no less, and it felt like a huge achievement.
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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