Loving wify

I was born in a traditional family as the youngest child. Being the youngest, I was always spoiled and pampered by everyone. I was also a bright student and loved participating in dramatics. Growing up, I noticed that while I was a boy, I often found myself drawn to things traditionally associated with girls. I was lean and delicate, and people often commented that I looked like a girl even though I was born male.

As a child, I was sometimes dressed in girls' clothes for fun, and I loved how it felt. It wasn’t something I did often, but there were moments when I felt a deep sense of joy and comfort in wearing dresses and skirts. In college, I became involved in theater, and I was frequently asked to play female roles. I enjoyed acting and embraced the opportunity to express myself in these characters, which only made me more interested in cross-dressing.

My sister-in-law, Priya, was my role model in this regard. She was beautiful, graceful, and always wore sarees with such elegance. I admired her and secretly dreamed of looking like her.

After college, I moved to a new city for work. The idea of living on my own was exciting, but it also felt like a little adventure. It was like I had a whole new world to explore, and for the first time, I could really focus on who I was and what made me feel happiest. Without anyone around to judge me, I could embrace parts of myself I had kept hidden.

I started paying attention to things I had always loved but never fully explored—like clothing, makeup, and everything girly! I would spend hours online, browsing through different stores and getting lost in the world of beautiful sarees, flowy dresses, and sparkly accessories. The more I looked, the more excited I became. It was like a whole new world was opening up to me, and I couldn't wait to dive in.

One evening, I decided to treat myself. I went shopping for my first saree. I remember how I felt when I picked out the fabric—it was a soft, pastel pink with delicate gold embroidery. It made me feel like I was stepping into a dream. I couldn’t wait to try it on. I went back to my apartment, closed the door, and set everything up in front of my mirror. As I draped the saree around me for the first time, I felt like a new person. The fabric swished around me as I moved, and I couldn't help but smile at how pretty I looked. It was like a little piece of magic. I took my time in front of the mirror, practicing how to fold the pleats just right, how to tuck the pallu over my shoulder so it fell perfectly.

As I kept experimenting with new outfits, I started to feel more and more like the girl I had always imagined. I started buying skirts, blouses, and even cute heels to wear around the house. Every time I slipped into a new outfit, it was like a little rush of joy. I loved the way the soft fabrics felt on my skin, how the colors made me feel bright and full of energy. I played around with different hairstyles too. Some days, I would curl my hair, making it bouncy and playful, while other times, I’d let it fall straight and sleek. There was something so fun about being able to change my look however I wanted!

I also began experimenting with makeup. I remember the first time I tried eyeliner and lipstick—it was a bit messy, but I was so proud of myself. I had always watched makeup tutorials, but actually doing it felt like I was unlocking a whole new side of me. Slowly, I got better at it. I learned how to blend eyeshadow, add a little shimmer to my cheeks, and make my lips look soft and natural.

Each time I dressed up, I felt a little more confident in my own skin. I started to enjoy looking at myself in the mirror, not just as a person in clothes, but as someone who was truly embracing their feminine side. Every time I slipped into a beautiful dress, or wrapped a saree around me, I felt like I was turning into the person I always dreamt of being.

Sometimes, I would play around and imagine what life would be like if I could go out dressed like this. I’d plan little pretend outings in my mind, wondering how it would feel to walk through a crowded street in a pretty dress, the soft swish of the fabric as I moved, or how I might meet new people who accepted me for the real me.

Living alone gave me the freedom to explore this side of me, and it felt so empowering. No longer did I have to hide my excitement over pretty things.

Eventually, I met a girl, and we became close. We eventually got engaged, and our wedding was planned. Before the wedding, I felt it was important to share my secret with her. I told her about my love for cross-dressing and how I often dressed as a woman when I was alone. She was shocked at first but appreciated my honesty. She told me she would support me but hoped that I would tone it down after we got married. I agreed and promised to respect her wishes.

Our early married days were happy, and she even admired my collection of clothes, even though I kept it discreet. In our culture, there is an auspicious occasion known as "Sravana," and newlywed couples are expected to participate in rituals together. One Friday morning, she asked me to help her with a special prayer ceremony called "Varalakshmi Vratam," which is often done by new brides. She asked me to get ready, and when I went into the bathroom, I found a saree, blouse, petticoat, and bra waiting for me.

I was nervous, unsure about what she was planning, but I trusted her. When I came out dressed in the saree, she was surprised but impressed by how well I looked. We performed the pooja together, and later, when guests arrived, she introduced me as her twin sister who had been staying away. This moment changed everything for me. She told me she loved how I looked as a woman and was happy to support me in my journey.

From that day on, we began to explore cross-dressing together. Every few weeks, I would dress up, and sometimes, she would play the role of my husband. We had fun, and it brought us closer. I felt more at peace with myself than ever before, knowing I had someone who accepted me fully. We continued to live our life with love and respect for each other, with her supporting me as I embraced my feminine side.

Our relationship grew stronger, and my identity felt more solidified. I started to dress and present myself more often as a woman, and it felt like I was finally being true to myself. She even began to help me with my makeup and hair, and I learned to take care of myself in a way that made me feel more feminine—shaving, styling my hair, and wearing clothes that reflected my true self.

Being a woman in my own house became a beautiful experience, one that I truly cherished every day. There was something so calming and fulfilling about the way it felt to care for the home in soft, flowy clothes. The moment I slipped into a comfortable cotton kurta or a pretty saree in the morning, I felt a wave of happiness. It wasn’t just about the fabric or the colors; it was about how it made me feel from the inside out. My body felt lighter, more graceful, as if every movement had a little more purpose, a little more elegance.

Shopping for groceries became a whole new adventure, too. I remember the first time I went to the local market in a simple salwar kameez. The soft fabric swished around my legs as I walked, and I loved the feeling of the light breeze against my skin. I noticed how people smiled at me, how the sunlight seemed to catch on the delicate bangles I wore, and how it felt to have my hair gently swaying with each step. It felt so natural, so right, and it made the mundane task of picking out vegetables or choosing fruit feel like a special moment. The anklets on my feet made a soft, musical sound as I moved, reminding me of the tenderness I was learning to embrace in every part of my life.

As I went about my day, the sensations of being dressed as a woman were new, yet they felt so familiar, like coming home. My long hair, which I had carefully styled in soft waves or tied up in a bun, felt so soft against my neck. It would catch the sunlight, and I’d run my fingers through it, enjoying the silky texture. I loved the feeling of it brushing against my back, especially when I bent over to clean or cook. It felt so delicate, so feminine. I took extra care of my hair, using nourishing oils and combing through it slowly each morning, feeling every strand glide smoothly beneath my fingers. It wasn’t just about appearance; it became a daily ritual of self-care that made me feel more connected to my feminine side.

When I was cleaning the house, it was a whole different experience than before. Wearing a soft cotton saree or a light blouse and skirt, I felt every inch of my body move differently. The fabric clung to my skin gently as I bent down or stretched to reach the high shelves. The way my body responded to the movements—the way my waist twisted to pick up a dust cloth or the way my hips swayed as I vacuumed—made me feel a kind of grace I never had before. The sweat that would accumulate on my skin in the heat felt different too. It wasn’t just uncomfortable; it was a reminder of the effort I was putting into creating a home that I loved. The soft beads of sweat on my skin, the slight stickiness of it, felt like a connection to the work I was doing, to the love I was putting into our home.

My bangles would jingle softly as I scrubbed the dishes, adding a gentle musical rhythm to the everyday tasks. I would hear the tinkling sound and smile to myself. There was something so feminine about it—so nurturing. It made everything I did feel tender and special. The simple act of wearing jewelry, like the delicate anklets that hugged my ankles, the bangles that jingled around my wrists, and the soft earrings that dangled from my ears, gave me a sense of completeness I had never felt before.

I began to really focus on taking care of my body in ways I hadn’t before. I paid more attention to my skin, making sure to moisturize after every shower, and I loved how soft and smooth my skin felt afterward. I would spend time massaging lotion into my arms and legs, feeling the smoothness of my skin, and appreciating the softness of my body. My hands, once rough from work, had softened, and I loved the way they looked now—nails neatly trimmed, always clean and cared for. I started to enjoy the small, delicate acts of self-care, like putting on a little body oil to make my skin glow or brushing my long hair in front of the mirror before bed.

There was a kind of calmness that came with this routine. It wasn’t just about appearances—it was about connecting with a side of myself that I had only begun to discover. I had always been busy with work, with life, and I never realized how important these little acts of self-care were to my well-being. The soft scents of lotions, the delicate touches of my jewelry, and the feel of fabric on my skin all became little acts of love, both for myself and for the life I was creating with my wife.

As I went through the day, I started to notice how my body moved differently when dressed as a woman. It was like I had unlocked a new rhythm to my steps. Every gesture felt more graceful—whether I was sweeping the floor, bending down to pick something up, or simply walking to the kitchen. I felt beautiful, not because of my outward appearance, but because of the way I felt inside

In time, she became pregnant, and it was an even deeper realization of the bond we shared. I loved being there for her—cooking, cleaning, and helping her with whatever she needed. Our life together felt balanced, and I was happy to be both her partner and her caregiver.

Looking back, I realized that embracing who I truly was had brought me so much peace. With the support of my wife and a deep understanding of my identity, I was able to live the life I had always longed for—one that was authentic and filled with love.