My Feminisation At The Hands Of My Cousin
From Frankie

Dear Auntie Helga,

Three years ago, my cousin and I conspired to let her deck me up as a girl. For the sake of brevity, I'll omit the series of events that led us to this tomfoolery. So that day, I wasn't aware until noon that my cell phone's battery had died. I plugged it for charging and after an hour, got a call from her. She was mad at me because she had been calling me since morning. Her folks had gone out of the town and she had the entire house to herself. Perfect situation to make good on our dress-up pact.

She tried my number again about 1 pm, and I was at her place within an hour. All perked up, she enthusiastically showed me her well-stocked makeup kit and the clothes she had selected for me. While I was a good sport about this dress-up on phone and emails, I got nervous when it actually came to walking the talk. I asked her if she was serious about this. She realised I might back off, and the corners of her mouth dropped. I thought it'd be awful to let her down after hyping this antic so much (for the past few months we had spoken about doing it). So with some awkwardness, I said let's do it.

Sensuous satin nighty to begin things...

And there, she excitedly pulled out a red, satin nighty she had bought for me. Yes, she had bought it for me. Noodle straps, a rose on the bust, deep back, calf-length... She held it out for me and asked me to wear it. Well, I went to the bathroom, changed into it, came out, feeling nervous. And then began her laughter riot. And the series of compliments. "Whoa! Boy! You have a sexy back!" "These straps look so good on your lovely shoulders, bhai!" She was on a roll, commenting, teasing, giggling. She smoothened the nighty for me and had me twist and turn, even as I was still feeling shy in that sensuous satin nighty. She rejoiced seeing me acting all coy and shy in that nighty. She was staring intently and I could feel her piercing glance. (Her cousin, after all. She can take the liberty of checking out her cousin in a sensuous nighty she has bought just from him. Isn't it? It is. And she took full advantage of it.) Did I feel vulnerable? You bet I did. Delicate straps on my shoulder, a deep back, the nighty's colour itself. So feminine. My face turned a shade red and my cousin took to teasing. "Awww! You are blushing! How sweet my 'cousin' is looking in this nighty!" I was a sitting duck, and she had a hell of time pulling my leg.

Made to wear a tube top...

After soaking in the sight of her dear cousin in the lingerie (nighty comes under lingerie, right?), she got me trying other stuff. A tube top-cum-skirt. Yes, that! I was like, "But how is it gonna hold up!" She responded with fake sympathy, agreeing that I don't have the 'assets' to carry off the tube top. It had an elastic band, so she got me to put it on nevertheless. I did, and she had such a jolly time teasing me for having a flat chest. What's funny about a boy with a flat chest? Nothing. Just that the moment our dress up started, she started teasing me as a girl. And she was poking fun of this girl who was standing there in a tube top with such underwhelming breasts. She kept cracking jokes. I felt silly and funny!

I join in the fun. Jeans-top bowl me over...

By this time, my nervousness had started melting away, all thanks to her laughter and teasing. She was enjoying from the moment I had stepped out in that nighty. I too had started enjoying by now. She was dominating all along. Calling the shots and poking fun at her new 'girlfriend'. I thought I should take lead now. So I asked her for her jeans. I thought jeans-top would give me a respite from these overly feminine items she had been making me wear. I was so wrong about jeans-top.

That pair of skinny jeans she handed to me, it was of course stitched to fit a woman's body, but it fit me as if it was tailor-made for me. Thanks to overeating, and the consequent fat on my bums and thighs, I filled her jeans perfectly. Curves and all. Her girly jeans sitting way below the belly button, tightly hugging the bums and legs, it felt like second skin. I felt funny upon wearing it. I was soaking in that different feeling, alternating between looking at the mirror and my cousin's face. She was awestruck at how girly I looked in them. She was gaping, drooling upon my legs. I looked that sexy! To complete the look, she gave me a pink boat neck top. A long top. Thanks to its feminine cut, it made my torso too look feminine and curvy!

Told to show off slip's straps...

All traces of awkwardness had vanished and I was comfortable with the silliness of the moment. Even confident to join her in the fun. (All credit goes to my fun cousin. Love you, dear.) To stump her and to see her reaction, I said, "No good girl wears a top with nothing underneath it." This threw her off a bit. Yes! I succeeded. As if suddenly lost for words, she pulled out a slip for me. Turned out that she was taken aback only for a moment. She seemed happy, not shocked, at my act of escalating the fun. Like a proud elder cousin, she watched over me as I held the slip up and examined it intently.

My first time I was looking at this garment. I was getting introduced to the female wardrobe and soaking in the experience like a wide-eyed newbie. My cousin was only too happy to help. After poring over it, I wore the slip. And how happy my sis was! She thought I looked hot in the slip-skinny jeans combo. I have to admit that I did feel different standing in those garments. I wore the top over the slip and as I began to tuck the slip's straps, my cousin stopped me and restored the straps' normal position, saying: "Straps should show with this top. Boat neck tops me straps dikhaate hain."

That long top, hot pink in colour and boat neck... Its cut was such that it gave illusion of curves even on me. And then to wear a slip underneath and to be told that the straps have to be seen. I was thoroughly enjoying the experience and was learning a lot about girly stuff. And curiosity was beginning to build about experiences the next outfit/look would entail.

Girly feelings setting in...

It was a strange yet super fun moment! My sis giving me girly tips, treating me like a girl throughout. She thought I should wear her bellies too, to complete the look. As she and I are similar size (she's slightly plump), her clothes fit me just right. She had a laughter riot, calling me her girlfriend, cousin, complimenting, envying my 'figure'. She commanded me to do a little rampwalk for her, turn and twist so that she can check out my 'figure'. She dared me to take a stroll on the terrace dressed like that. I boldly did so, even standing on the balcony without a worry, least bothered that anyone could see me. For, from a distance I looked like a girl with boy-cut hair. No exaggeration.

Outfit of the day: Anarkali...

As the gala time continued, she brought me the next attire: an intricate anarkali suit. It was decided that makeup would be applied on me after I put it on. She asked me to be careful as I were to slip into those delicate satin salwar. It felt so delicate to hold that I myself was cautious with it. And boy, I didn't know slipping into that anarkali kurta could be that tricky. She helped me get into it and then did the zipper at the back. I was beginning to wonder, how do women do all this by themselves!

Ah, so there I was. In a regal anarkali suit. Light purple colour, clearly made for festive occasions. Satin salwar and a lovely flaring top with delicate full-length net sleeves. My sis smoothened the long top and both of us were in awe over how nicely it fit.

Until this ensemble, whenever I'd put on an outfit, she'd tease me and give me compliments with a naughty look, how my figure looked so girly. She would look at me up and down in full admiration, ask me to turn so she could check out and drool upon her new 'cousin's' curves. "Kyaaa figure hai yaar tera! Yeh figure mujhko de de." She would ask me to stand facing her, continue gaping at those curves, her gaze would stop at my flat chest, and she'd say: "Bhai poora ladki jaisa figure hai, bas ek kami hai." You could sense mischief and greed in her eyes. Greed to have her cousin wear, well, a bra and achieve the full feminine figure. She didn't need to say it, her body language did. Girls do know the art of conveying their desire through their emotions.


It was obvious she wanted me to wear a bra so that we could see how her 'cousin' would look with full breasts. What was also obvious was that she was hesitating to go for it. As I had started feeling a bit adventurous now, I took her bra that was kept on the clothesline for drying and said I'm wearing it. I was a bit unsure about how she'd respond to it. If she felt free to tease me, pass compliments and drool upon my 'figure', she'd have asked me for the bra if she was cool it. I had this apprehension that me borrowing her most intimate garment might not go down well with her. I was so wrong! When I took that black bra from the clothesline and announced we're adding it to our final look, she had a look of joy and disbelief. She did want me to wear it.

Well, I had to take off that delicate anarkali kurta to wear the bra. I slipped my arms into the straps, but just couldn't do the hooks at the back. Ugh... How do girls do it? How to get both the hooks right? My cousin couldn't control her laughter seeing my struggle. She was merrily hooting. "Wow, bhai! These black straps on your fair back look so sexy, yaar!" "Seriously, give your figure to me, yaar." She went on and on, her gigglefest continuing. After trying for a good couple of minutes, I gave up. I had to ask her to help me with the bra. She was happy to oblige. She asked if the bra fit (teasingly, of course) and said I'd learn with practice. My face had turned red, as I felt a li'l shy, wearing those satin pajamas and a bra. She snapped the straps and teased me a bit more, saying how sexy and feminine I looked. I was just blushing and trying not to show it, but it did show, which added to her mischief.

Now, we had the dilemma of how to fill the cups of the bra. She had a stress ball, that soft yellow ball. That went into one cup. For another, we had nothing but a cricket ball made of leather. So I had a light ball for one breast and a heavy ball for one breast. Throughout, the heavy 'breast' kept drooping and I'd naturally adjust 'my' bra. This would send her into a fit of laughter. She commended me for being so girly naturally, but reminded that no decent girl keeps tugging at her own bra. I just sat there coyly, following her instructions.

Overpowering feminine feelings...

I have to underline here that wearing that anarkali suit brought an overwhelming feminine feeling. While all of the previous female garments too were a novel experience for me and all of them felt different, none of them had the grace, elegance and delicate, feminine nature of anarkali. None of it had that regal quotient of this garment. The feminine feeling was so strong that it subdued the fun and mischief element in both of us. We were just in awe at how beautiful it looked. That feminine ensemble gave me the most overpowering feminine look of the day (perhaps thanks is due to the bra too). My cousin pointed out I looked like a model: tall, slim, curvy. If I can be honest, this overpowering feeling or whatever it was left me awestruck and feeling coy again.

Makeup begins...

My sis then made me sit on the edge of the bed. It was time for makeup! I was careful to sit so as not to ruin the kurta. My sis was impressed at how naturally I was doing these things. Well, I couldn't afford to crush that delicate kurta! So finally, the makeup began. First was eyeliner. She asked me to close my eyes, and then I felt some liquid thing on my eyelids. Applying it must be such a craft! She applied mascara, telling me it should be done in zig-zag motion. Another trivia that I learnt. Then came a touch of eyeshadow, of the same colour as my attire. I mean her attire, which I was wearing. Blusher on cheeks, lip liner, lip colour... I don't even remember what all went on my face. I just remember brushes on my face. Powder, cream, lipstick. And subtle, feminine fragrances. I remember telling myself, that's why girls smell so sweet. Brushes of different shapes and sizes ran on my face while my cousin enthusiastically narrated what she was doing to me, what the right way of doing it is and why it is done. She was like a loving elder cousin who was inducting her newbie younger cousin into the art of decking up. I loved all the adulation and adoration coming from her.

Earrings, bindi, heels, what not!...

When my partner-in-crime was done painting my face, she got me earrings (I've both ears pierced, rocker guy), a bindi and her heels (which were a size too small, but still fit). And then I was taken to the mirror. I remember looking at myself, feeling funny at first. And feeling feminine, if I may be honest. My sis had a blast decking me up, and she did a good job at making me look like a girl. I was impressed with her artistry and in awe of that new, striking experience. I sport closely cropped hair, and she made me look like female models with that hairstyle. After makeup and accessories, I didn't look a guy. No. I looked like a girl with cropped hair. Who knew deft makeup and earrings etc could do that! Winged eyeliner, salute to you.

Difference in gait, other feminine traits....

I was surprised at how I had to walk and act differently after the transformation. The usual, careless guy-swagger won't do. Thanks to the heels and the dress, I had to take small, careful steps. Sit elegantly. Even rubbing the eye wasn't allowed in case of an itch. For, eye makeup might smudge, my sis warned. She was proud of her artwork. Indeed, I looked like a girl. With that smug feeling, she had me try her different types of heels. Wedges, dress sandals, even flats. She had me wear dupatta and do rampwalk for her wearing her different heels. She had me strike poses and clicked snaps.

The bra's straps kept sliding off my shoulders and I had to regularly adjust them. She had a ball seeing me tackle these girl problems. That's when it struck me, I was indeed acting just like girls do. I smoothen the kurta before sitting, take short steps when wearing heels, I move gracefully. Femininity was dawning on me. I was learning and following girls' ways unconsciously. My cousin was only too pleased with her efforts and at upon finding someone to do her girltalks with!

By the time we were done posing, catwalking and admiring my cousin's dress and makeup skills, it was almost time for her maid to come. Which meant we had run out of time and there was no scope to try sarees. This made her slightly upset as she had laid out two sarees for me. One of chiffon, to make me look and feel sexy (her words). And the other was of some starchy material. For the elegant look. She was disappointed as we had no time for saree only because my stupid phone didn't let her contact me in the morning.

Awe-inspiring, crazy feelings...

I had such a comical and delightful time that I too regret I missed out on the saree experience. That day was hell of a learning experience for me. Though I've never been critical of women taking time to get ready, now I know why they take time. To get into these delicate, dresses, adjusting it, putting on makeup, applying safety pins, deciding on the right accessories etc takes time. Just like all good things take time. The fabric of the clothes is different. It feels different, soft. Just wearing certain dresses brings out gracefulness in the persona. This experience, which started off with a nervous, unsure me, left me totally in awe of women and their wardrobe.

Ready to go again...

Now, having learnt, experienced and appreciated how different—and sensuous—women's clothing is, I'm actually eager to find out what wearing a saree feels like. When I was having difficulty managing the anarkali suit, my sis teased me how'd I manage a saree. Now I'm curious. Really, how would I manage it? What does it feel like to be in a saree? My sis (and a couple of other gal pals with whom I've shared the story) tells me it's a different ball game altogether and it's a pity I came so close yet was deprived of the experience. They highly recommend that I get that experience! Haha...

My cousin is a mom now, which leaves us with no scope of reliving that fun and achieving the final frontier. While I may never have that experience, I gotta admit. Having literally been in women's shoes, I realise what a balancing act one requires to ensure everything stays in place. Now I know that a woman looking immaculate in a dress or a saree has put in much time and effort to look that way. I understand pulling off the look is quite a task. Since then, I've become more appreciative of women. And hearing so much about saree, I'm in awe! It'd be great if some opportunity comes up and I get to have another dress-up session with her, or some other fun partner-in-crime, and get to try all the feminine stuff I've missed on.

After experiencing femininity first-hand, I understand why women are called God's best creation!


Thank you for your letter Frankie. Part One of this charming story was published in our August Issue last year, I felt it was time to revisit this playful experimentation into petticoating. Though not the usual fare these types of events can have long lasting implications for the participants. As is my usual practice with letters from non native English speaking countries I have left the dialog pretty much intact, I'm sure our many followers in India/Asia will appreciate the authenticity.

Auntie Helga

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