17-01-2026, 08:46 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-02-2026, 11:33 PM by Celebrorn. Edited 7 times in total. Edited 7 times in total.)
Chapter 2
My face collapsed on the pillow in my bed, as the tears on my face soaked the fabric. I closed my eyes as I sobbed and the exhaustion of the day and situation put me right to sleep in a few minutes.
Even in sleep, the anger stayed. Not just anger at Dad's refusal to understand - but deeper, a shame at what I must be in his eyes. Something broken. Something to fix, or worse, to dispose of.
I don’t know how long I slept before I felt a hand gently stroking my hair, and a soft voice calling out my name - Kanika… Kanika… get up…
A year ago, I had requested my family to call me Kanika at home. My brother had laughed, choking on his food as he mocked me, while Dad had responded with familiar anger. Only Mom understood what it meant to me.
Mom knew I liked that name for some time, and she had lovingly called me that for a while before that. It was the perfect and only choice for my birth name Kanak. Sometimes I think that I was named Kanak, so that I could become Kanika one day.
Mom - Kanikaaaa… get up… It’s getting late. Raj Uncle and his mom would be coming in an hour.
I opened one eye, the memory of why I had been crying rushing back all at once - Mom… what is this nonsense… and how can you let Dad do this to me!
I muttered and pulled the blanked over my face to avoid looking at her.
Mom was sitting besides me - Kanika, listen to me… please…
Me - What is there to listen to?
Mom said gently - You are not getting married today… just think of it like a family meeting. Someone just coming to meet you.
I quickly protested - But I don’t want to meet anyone.
Mom’s voice started to get serious - That’s unfair… you said you felt like a girl and wanted to transition to being a girl. I supported you in all of that. Now meeting boys for marriage is part of being a girl. So get up… and start getting dressed.
Me - But he is not a BOY… he is a man… an OLD man.
Mom - Look… we will talk about it later… but for now just have this meeting… and then we will figure it out.
As Mom tried to remove my blanket I was thrashing around in bed.
I looked at Mom and she smiled at me.
Mom - You know what the good part about all of this is?
I frowned - What??
Mom - You get to put on one of my new sarees. I know how you love to try on my sarees and I always say no. But today I will let you pick one. And I'll also do your makeup. No one will say anything.
I gripped the blanket tighter, but Mom's words kept echoing. A saree. Makeup. Walking freely through the house. Everything I'd wanted, just not like this. Not as a bargain. Not as the price for this meeting.
But even as I thought this, my resistance was crumbling. How long had I waited for this permission?
I sat up grudgingly as Mom quickly laid out several sarees on the bed in front of me, the fabric shimmering in the afternoon light.
I grudingly sat up as mom quickly laid out some sarees on the bed in front of me. They all looked very pretty to me and it was really hard to pick one.
I didn’t know much about sarees. I nervously asked - Would they even fit me?
Mom laughed gently - Yes… Sarees fit everyone. It’s the blouse and petticoat that need to be tailored for each person.
Me - Ok… would you even have a blouse that fits me?
Mom - Hmmm… let me see… I don’t know your size. But we can try putting on one to check. Stand up…
I slowly got up from the bed and stood up in front of the mirror in my room, with mom standing next to me.
Mom pulled the sleeves of my two tshirts indicating to remove them - Can you?
I hesitatingly grabbed my tshirts from the bottom end and pulled it above my head to remove them. I hadn’t been topless in front of mom for a while now, maybe a couple of years.
I looked at myself in the mirror. There was more than a clear hint of boobs on my chest… I was closer to a B cup than a A cup at this point. Ever since I starting taking Estrogen oills a couple of years ago, my body had started transforming rapidly. My waist was bending inwards at the middle of my body and then wider hips as it curved down. My flat tummy made my curves look even more accentuated.
Mom's hands went to her mouth. "Oh my god. You're... you're actually..." She didn't finish, but I knew what she meant.
My face burned. 'Mom... please don't...'
She recovered quickly, turning professional. "If I had to guess, you're somewhere between 30B and 32B right now. Just the size I was when I got married." A strange look crossed her face, not quite sadness, not quite pride. "I think I still have some of my old blouses stored away. They should fit you perfectly."
Mom quickly ran out of the room, opening the door slightly and closing it firmly as she went outside, like someone would do while their daughter was getting dressed.
I looked in the mirror as she left the room, proudly looking at how far I had come along. There were still some tiny hairs on my chest, but I made sure I used hair removal cream on them regularly and since using the Estrogen gel capsules the hair growth had been slower.
As I cupped my boobs feeling them gently, I felt the door open and my hands quickly dropped back down.
Mom looked excited - Here… I found one that would go perfectly with this saree.
Mom hung up the blouse in front of me, and it did look in great condition for something that had been around for a long time.
Mom - Do you want to put on your bra first?
My cheeks became red when she said that. I didn’t realize she knew I wore bras. I didn’t have the courage to buy them myself so I had asked my friend Riya to buy some training bra’s and sports bra for me. I just had one real bra which she gave me last week which I hadnt tried on yet.
Mom seemed to know exactly where they were as she pointed to the drawers - Go on… quickly… get them out…
I opened my drawers and pulled out the bras I had and placed them on the bed. Mom had a quick look at them at instinctively picked the new bra with the floral patterns on it.
Mom tore off its price tag as she handed it over to me - This one…
I held the new bra and placed it on my boobs and slid my hands through the straps. I had never worn one which required to be hooked from the back and reached out my hands behind to hook it.
I'd never worn one that hooked in the back. I reached behind, searching for the clasps. One hand found the left side, the other fumbled for the right. When I finally had both, I tried to bring them together, but the hooks wouldn't line up. I tried again. And again. My fingers slipped. The elastic pulled awkwardly across my back. Finally Mom guided my hands to clasp the hooks together.
When the hooks finally clicked into place, my chest felt different. For the first time, my breasts had actual shape instead of just being flattened under a sports bra. The cups lifted and separated, creating a silhouette I'd only seen on other girls. I stared at myself in the mirror, hardly breathing.
This is what I actually look like.
Before I could process the moment, Mom had already moved on, holding out the blouse. "No time now, beta. I'll teach you all this later."
Before I knew it Mom had taken things under control and was fastening the hooks of the blouse. It was slightly loose but still not a terrible fit.
Mom asked me to take off my pants, and held the petticoat down as I put my hands on her shoulder to insert my legs into it, while wearing my briefs.
I took a deep breath, now just the saree remained. Or so I thought, unaware that this was the start of a long transformation journey.
Mom had just finished wrapping my saree around my legs and was now carefully making the pleats. Watching her hands move with such ease, I wondered how she made something so complicated look effortless. I had tried wearing a saree on my own before, once or twice when the house was empty, but it had always ended in a hopeless mess. Folding it back up afterward had been so frustrating that I had not dared to try again.
I glanced at myself in the mirror. I had inherited my mother’s fair skin, and against the dark blouse and petticoat, my neck and midriff appeared even lighter. As I turned slightly to see my side profile, Mom gently scolded me.
Mom - Kanikaaa… stand straight and don’t move. It’s hard enough tying a saree on someone else.
I smiled and did as I was told, almost forgetting what awaited me later that evening.
Mom tucked the pleats firmly into my petticoat, her hand sliding inside to secure them. My body went rigid. I was still aware of what was down there - what shouldn't be down there. What if she accidentally...
But her hands moved with the muscle memory of decades, nowhere near where my anxiety lived. She was already adjusting the pallu before I could exhale.
How does that look? - She said, half to herself.
Me - Ummm… I think there is a big problem…
Mom - What problem??? The saree looks good to me…
I sounded frustrated - The saree is perfect… but look at my hair. I still don’t look like a girl with my short hair.
Mom - Oh! I almost forgot. Stay right there.
I stood there waiting impatiently, the door slightly open now. Mom quickly rushed back inside with a polybag in her hand.
She pulled out a wig from the bag and took it out of its packaging - Here… Your dad got this for yesterday.
Oh! - I let out a short gasp.
I was surprised that Dad got this for me, he never encouraged any of this. This evening, clearly, had been planned far in advance than I was told.
Mom stretched the hairnet over my head first, tucking my short hair flat beneath it. Then she lifted the wig with both hands, positioned it carefully at my hairline, and slid it back into place. Her fingers adjusted the edges around my temples, smoothing down any bumps.
When she stepped back, I couldn't move.
Long hair framed my face, falling past my shoulders, brushing against my collarbones. Dark strands caught the light as I turned my head slightly. This was the girl I'd seen in my head for years. This was who I was supposed to be.
I looked like a girl. I looked like myself.
Mom put her head of my shoulder from behind and looked at me in the mirror.
She softly said - You know… I always wanted a girl as my second one… I know I shouldn’t say this, but I felt so disappointed when you were born as a boy.
Something tightened in my chest. That should have hurt—Mom being disappointed at my birth. But buried in that disappointment was something else. A kind of validation I'd never expected.
Mom - But now… I feel I got the daughter that I always dreamed of.
My eyes watered up a little. This moment felt so special.
Just then to spoil the moment, the doorbell rang and I heard Vishal open the door a few seconds later and voices echoed through the house as guests arrived.
Mom panicked and pulled me toward the mirror, her hands moving faster than her thoughts. She cleansed my face, smoothed on foundation, brushed a hint of blush onto my cheeks, traced my eyes with careful strokes, and finished with a swipe of lipstick. Doing all of this while murmuring instructions I barely understood. I was seriously in awe of my Mom doing this so well.
As a final touch, she pressed a small bindi onto my forehead. I had never worn makeup before, but when she finally stepped back, I barely recognized the girl staring back at me, shy, glowing, and suddenly ready for a future I had not imagined.
Dad peeked into the room and gave me a quick glance. His eyes seemed to linger on me for more than a few seconds.
Dad then addressed Mom - Sudha… hurry up… they have been here for 10 minutes now.
Mom gave him a sharp look - It takes time for a girl to get ready. I am sure you know that well, and I am sure they would understand it as well. Let them wait. She will come when she is ready.
Dad looked frustrated but didn’t want to upset Mom any further. He closed the door and left.
Mom gently held my shoulders - Don’t worry, men always like to rush us. But a lady should always take her time to look her best.
Mom slipped a thin gold necklace around my neck, added bangles to my wrists, and a ring to my finger. She studied me one last time and smiled.
Mom - You look so pretty… muaahh…
She gently kissed my head. She dabbed a small mark of kajal at the back of my neck - To ward off the evil eye! Now you just sit here, and I will come and get you in a few minutes.
As mom walked out and I was waiting nervously in my room, I felt like the whole room had turned extremely cold and my whole body was trembling uncontrollably.
All I could think of was - What will the people outside see when they see me? Will they recognize me as a boy dressed up in girl’s clothing or genuinely think I am a girl?
My face collapsed on the pillow in my bed, as the tears on my face soaked the fabric. I closed my eyes as I sobbed and the exhaustion of the day and situation put me right to sleep in a few minutes.
Even in sleep, the anger stayed. Not just anger at Dad's refusal to understand - but deeper, a shame at what I must be in his eyes. Something broken. Something to fix, or worse, to dispose of.
I don’t know how long I slept before I felt a hand gently stroking my hair, and a soft voice calling out my name - Kanika… Kanika… get up…
A year ago, I had requested my family to call me Kanika at home. My brother had laughed, choking on his food as he mocked me, while Dad had responded with familiar anger. Only Mom understood what it meant to me.
Mom knew I liked that name for some time, and she had lovingly called me that for a while before that. It was the perfect and only choice for my birth name Kanak. Sometimes I think that I was named Kanak, so that I could become Kanika one day.
Mom - Kanikaaaa… get up… It’s getting late. Raj Uncle and his mom would be coming in an hour.
I opened one eye, the memory of why I had been crying rushing back all at once - Mom… what is this nonsense… and how can you let Dad do this to me!
I muttered and pulled the blanked over my face to avoid looking at her.
Mom was sitting besides me - Kanika, listen to me… please…
Me - What is there to listen to?
Mom said gently - You are not getting married today… just think of it like a family meeting. Someone just coming to meet you.
I quickly protested - But I don’t want to meet anyone.
Mom’s voice started to get serious - That’s unfair… you said you felt like a girl and wanted to transition to being a girl. I supported you in all of that. Now meeting boys for marriage is part of being a girl. So get up… and start getting dressed.
Me - But he is not a BOY… he is a man… an OLD man.
Mom - Look… we will talk about it later… but for now just have this meeting… and then we will figure it out.
As Mom tried to remove my blanket I was thrashing around in bed.
I looked at Mom and she smiled at me.
Mom - You know what the good part about all of this is?
I frowned - What??
Mom - You get to put on one of my new sarees. I know how you love to try on my sarees and I always say no. But today I will let you pick one. And I'll also do your makeup. No one will say anything.
I gripped the blanket tighter, but Mom's words kept echoing. A saree. Makeup. Walking freely through the house. Everything I'd wanted, just not like this. Not as a bargain. Not as the price for this meeting.
But even as I thought this, my resistance was crumbling. How long had I waited for this permission?
I sat up grudgingly as Mom quickly laid out several sarees on the bed in front of me, the fabric shimmering in the afternoon light.
I grudingly sat up as mom quickly laid out some sarees on the bed in front of me. They all looked very pretty to me and it was really hard to pick one.
I didn’t know much about sarees. I nervously asked - Would they even fit me?
Mom laughed gently - Yes… Sarees fit everyone. It’s the blouse and petticoat that need to be tailored for each person.
Me - Ok… would you even have a blouse that fits me?
Mom - Hmmm… let me see… I don’t know your size. But we can try putting on one to check. Stand up…
I slowly got up from the bed and stood up in front of the mirror in my room, with mom standing next to me.
Mom pulled the sleeves of my two tshirts indicating to remove them - Can you?
I hesitatingly grabbed my tshirts from the bottom end and pulled it above my head to remove them. I hadn’t been topless in front of mom for a while now, maybe a couple of years.
I looked at myself in the mirror. There was more than a clear hint of boobs on my chest… I was closer to a B cup than a A cup at this point. Ever since I starting taking Estrogen oills a couple of years ago, my body had started transforming rapidly. My waist was bending inwards at the middle of my body and then wider hips as it curved down. My flat tummy made my curves look even more accentuated.
Mom's hands went to her mouth. "Oh my god. You're... you're actually..." She didn't finish, but I knew what she meant.
My face burned. 'Mom... please don't...'
She recovered quickly, turning professional. "If I had to guess, you're somewhere between 30B and 32B right now. Just the size I was when I got married." A strange look crossed her face, not quite sadness, not quite pride. "I think I still have some of my old blouses stored away. They should fit you perfectly."
Mom quickly ran out of the room, opening the door slightly and closing it firmly as she went outside, like someone would do while their daughter was getting dressed.
I looked in the mirror as she left the room, proudly looking at how far I had come along. There were still some tiny hairs on my chest, but I made sure I used hair removal cream on them regularly and since using the Estrogen gel capsules the hair growth had been slower.
As I cupped my boobs feeling them gently, I felt the door open and my hands quickly dropped back down.
Mom looked excited - Here… I found one that would go perfectly with this saree.
Mom hung up the blouse in front of me, and it did look in great condition for something that had been around for a long time.
Mom - Do you want to put on your bra first?
My cheeks became red when she said that. I didn’t realize she knew I wore bras. I didn’t have the courage to buy them myself so I had asked my friend Riya to buy some training bra’s and sports bra for me. I just had one real bra which she gave me last week which I hadnt tried on yet.
Mom seemed to know exactly where they were as she pointed to the drawers - Go on… quickly… get them out…
I opened my drawers and pulled out the bras I had and placed them on the bed. Mom had a quick look at them at instinctively picked the new bra with the floral patterns on it.
Mom tore off its price tag as she handed it over to me - This one…
I held the new bra and placed it on my boobs and slid my hands through the straps. I had never worn one which required to be hooked from the back and reached out my hands behind to hook it.
I'd never worn one that hooked in the back. I reached behind, searching for the clasps. One hand found the left side, the other fumbled for the right. When I finally had both, I tried to bring them together, but the hooks wouldn't line up. I tried again. And again. My fingers slipped. The elastic pulled awkwardly across my back. Finally Mom guided my hands to clasp the hooks together.
When the hooks finally clicked into place, my chest felt different. For the first time, my breasts had actual shape instead of just being flattened under a sports bra. The cups lifted and separated, creating a silhouette I'd only seen on other girls. I stared at myself in the mirror, hardly breathing.
This is what I actually look like.
Before I could process the moment, Mom had already moved on, holding out the blouse. "No time now, beta. I'll teach you all this later."
Before I knew it Mom had taken things under control and was fastening the hooks of the blouse. It was slightly loose but still not a terrible fit.
Mom asked me to take off my pants, and held the petticoat down as I put my hands on her shoulder to insert my legs into it, while wearing my briefs.
I took a deep breath, now just the saree remained. Or so I thought, unaware that this was the start of a long transformation journey.
Mom had just finished wrapping my saree around my legs and was now carefully making the pleats. Watching her hands move with such ease, I wondered how she made something so complicated look effortless. I had tried wearing a saree on my own before, once or twice when the house was empty, but it had always ended in a hopeless mess. Folding it back up afterward had been so frustrating that I had not dared to try again.
I glanced at myself in the mirror. I had inherited my mother’s fair skin, and against the dark blouse and petticoat, my neck and midriff appeared even lighter. As I turned slightly to see my side profile, Mom gently scolded me.
Mom - Kanikaaa… stand straight and don’t move. It’s hard enough tying a saree on someone else.
I smiled and did as I was told, almost forgetting what awaited me later that evening.
Mom tucked the pleats firmly into my petticoat, her hand sliding inside to secure them. My body went rigid. I was still aware of what was down there - what shouldn't be down there. What if she accidentally...
But her hands moved with the muscle memory of decades, nowhere near where my anxiety lived. She was already adjusting the pallu before I could exhale.
How does that look? - She said, half to herself.
Me - Ummm… I think there is a big problem…
Mom - What problem??? The saree looks good to me…
I sounded frustrated - The saree is perfect… but look at my hair. I still don’t look like a girl with my short hair.
Mom - Oh! I almost forgot. Stay right there.
I stood there waiting impatiently, the door slightly open now. Mom quickly rushed back inside with a polybag in her hand.
She pulled out a wig from the bag and took it out of its packaging - Here… Your dad got this for yesterday.
Oh! - I let out a short gasp.
I was surprised that Dad got this for me, he never encouraged any of this. This evening, clearly, had been planned far in advance than I was told.
Mom stretched the hairnet over my head first, tucking my short hair flat beneath it. Then she lifted the wig with both hands, positioned it carefully at my hairline, and slid it back into place. Her fingers adjusted the edges around my temples, smoothing down any bumps.
When she stepped back, I couldn't move.
Long hair framed my face, falling past my shoulders, brushing against my collarbones. Dark strands caught the light as I turned my head slightly. This was the girl I'd seen in my head for years. This was who I was supposed to be.
I looked like a girl. I looked like myself.
Mom put her head of my shoulder from behind and looked at me in the mirror.
She softly said - You know… I always wanted a girl as my second one… I know I shouldn’t say this, but I felt so disappointed when you were born as a boy.
Something tightened in my chest. That should have hurt—Mom being disappointed at my birth. But buried in that disappointment was something else. A kind of validation I'd never expected.
Mom - But now… I feel I got the daughter that I always dreamed of.
My eyes watered up a little. This moment felt so special.
Just then to spoil the moment, the doorbell rang and I heard Vishal open the door a few seconds later and voices echoed through the house as guests arrived.
Mom panicked and pulled me toward the mirror, her hands moving faster than her thoughts. She cleansed my face, smoothed on foundation, brushed a hint of blush onto my cheeks, traced my eyes with careful strokes, and finished with a swipe of lipstick. Doing all of this while murmuring instructions I barely understood. I was seriously in awe of my Mom doing this so well.
As a final touch, she pressed a small bindi onto my forehead. I had never worn makeup before, but when she finally stepped back, I barely recognized the girl staring back at me, shy, glowing, and suddenly ready for a future I had not imagined.
Dad peeked into the room and gave me a quick glance. His eyes seemed to linger on me for more than a few seconds.
Dad then addressed Mom - Sudha… hurry up… they have been here for 10 minutes now.
Mom gave him a sharp look - It takes time for a girl to get ready. I am sure you know that well, and I am sure they would understand it as well. Let them wait. She will come when she is ready.
Dad looked frustrated but didn’t want to upset Mom any further. He closed the door and left.
Mom gently held my shoulders - Don’t worry, men always like to rush us. But a lady should always take her time to look her best.
Mom slipped a thin gold necklace around my neck, added bangles to my wrists, and a ring to my finger. She studied me one last time and smiled.
Mom - You look so pretty… muaahh…
She gently kissed my head. She dabbed a small mark of kajal at the back of my neck - To ward off the evil eye! Now you just sit here, and I will come and get you in a few minutes.
As mom walked out and I was waiting nervously in my room, I felt like the whole room had turned extremely cold and my whole body was trembling uncontrollably.
All I could think of was - What will the people outside see when they see me? Will they recognize me as a boy dressed up in girl’s clothing or genuinely think I am a girl?
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