My name is Vijay. I am orphan I have no relatives. Except Akhila. She’s been with me since childhood; we grew up together in the same orphanage. I was never good at studies, but Akhila excelled in academics. After we completed our B.Tech, she got a high-paying job as a software developer in an MNC, while I ended up working in a call center for a modest salary. Still, she never once made me feel lesser. We spent our weekends together, laughing and enjoying life.
I had no particular goals in life. I worked only to survive. But two years later, Akhila was promoted to Team Lead, and her salary doubled. Soon after, I met with an accident and fractured my leg. My job only gave me a week off, so I resigned. Oddly, I felt relieved. Akhila never questioned me or judged me. She just quietly supported me. After that I never want out to search for a job. I began to enjoy every moment of my life. I started spending time at home, free from any work. Over time, I began to gain weight due to the lack of physical activity. As I healed, I began taking over household chores. Surprisingly, I enjoyed them. It felt satisfying. Akhila, grateful for the help, could now focus fully on her work. Over time, I took on more responsibilities - cooking, cleaning, laundry. Slowly, I became the homemaker. I didn’t feel ashamed—I felt fulfilled.
Every day, I woke up early, cleaned the house, and prepared breakfast for her. After she left for work, I had my breakfast, refreshed myself, and then made lunch. I suggested that she come home for lunch every afternoon since her office was so close. After she left, I had my own lunch, rested for a bit, and then started washing clothes or cleaning the house to keep everything looking nice. Later, I would prepare dinner. I took on all the household responsibilities, embracing them with pride, never feeling ashamed, even though my role felt more feminine than what society typically expected of me.
I could feel the fat burning away as I did the work. These days, I noticed that my clothes were becoming loose on me. My body had transformed, becoming as slim as a teenage boy’s. I continued to wear my loose clothes since I had no money left to buy new ones. I also stopped buying soaps and shampoos for myself and began using hers instead.
One day, Akhila caught a fever and took the day off. After we finished breakfast, I took a bath and came out with a towel tied around my waist. Akhila observed my body closely and came over to ask, 'What happened to your skin?' I shrugged it off and told her it was nothing. But then she asked again, 'Why is your skin red, and where's the hair?' It was then that I realised my skin had become red, and when I touched it, it felt unusually soft almost like a girl's skin, and there was no hair. I had no explanation, so I stayed quiet. She then commented that my skin wouldn’t have become so soft for no reason, suggesting that it was the rough male clothes that had been causing my soft skin to get irritated. A bit later, she seemed suspicious and went to the bathroom. When she came back, she asked, 'Have you been using my soap and shampoo every day?' I confessed that I had. She then explained that those products were meant for girls, and by using them daily, my skin had become smooth, and my hair had grown longer and thicker.
As my skin was getting irritated by my clothes, Akhila suggested I wear some of her inner wear, like a bra, camisole, and panties. I was reluctant at first, but she was insistent and made me wear her old bra, teaching me how to put it on. I felt embarrassed learning all of this as a boy. She then handed me a pair of panties, and I put them on when she turned away. After that, she made me wear a camisole. Later, she opened my wardrobe to check if I had any softer clothes. As she went through my clothes, she discovered that they were in poor condition because I hadn’t bought new clothes in two years. She got upset with me for not asking to buy new ones, and in a way, she seemed to want to punish me for it. So, she opened her own wardrobe and picked out a top and skirt for me ones that were less girly and handed them to me. I reluctantly wore them.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw that with my slim body, smooth skin, thick long hair, and especially the top and skirt, I looked like a teenage girl. Akhila began braiding my hair and did a light makeup on my face. As she worked, she teased me, making me feel both embarrassed and strangely flattered. When she finished, I quickly ran out without looking at my reflection and started my daily routines. While cooking, the wind from the kitchen blew across my navel, as her top was short, making my belly button visible. It made me feel… different. When I served her lunch, she complimented my navel and suggested I try wearing a saree. I blushed and told her to be quiet, but she was mischievous, teasing me further by touching my navel with her hand.
After we finished lunch, she made me wear a white saree, following a YouTube tutorial. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t believe what I saw. I looked more beautiful than she did in the same saree. In the next moment, she knelt down and proposed to me. She wanted me to be her wife for life. I told her that I loved her too and that I didn’t feel ashamed, whether I was a husband or a wife to her. But I also admitted that I was sure I couldn’t be a good husband, and I didn’t even know how I could become a wife.
She came closer to me and gently pulled me toward her, placing her hand around my navel. The sudden touch took me by surprise, and out of shyness, I lowered my head. She lifted my chin with her other hand and softly told me that she had complete confidence that I could become her beautiful wife. I simply nodded in agreement, a silent affirmation. Right then, we decided to contact a priest and fix a date for our marriage. With the help of her friend, we went to visit the priest. He informed us that there were no auspicious dates for a month. Hearing this, she became visibly disappointed. To cheer her up, I told her that I just needed some time to practice and become her perfect wife.
I could see a smile spread across her face. After that, she took me to a beauty parlour. There, I got my ears pierced, three on each ear, along with all the necessary grooming that girls usually go through: a manicure, pedicure, eyebrow threading, hair straightening, waxing, and more. As we were leaving, the staff suggested I get a nose piercing, and Akhila agreed on my behalf. I ended up with a left nostril piercing. By the time we left the parlour, it was already dark, so we decided to have dinner outside.
When we returned home, she told me that from now on, we’d bathe together, but I hesitated and said we should wait until after the marriage. She reassured me, saying she wouldn’t do anything and reminded me that we had promised to keep everything between us platonic until the wedding. She placed her hand around my navel and gently guided me toward the bathroom. After the bath, she took two sets of night pants and shirts from her wardrobe. She handed one set to me and wore the other. She said that, from now on, we’d sleep in the same bed. We were both so tired that we fell asleep quickly.
The next morning, I woke up to see that Akhila was still asleep. I decided to make coffee. As I entered the room with two cups of coffee, I saw her stirring awake. We shared the coffee in silence, savoring the quiet morning. After finishing our coffee that morning, Akhila suggested we go shopping for some new clothes, including a few things that would help me feel more comfortable in my own skin. She could tell I was adjusting to new changes in myself, and wanted to make sure I had everything I needed. We worked quickly through breakfast, and after we finished, I headed to the bathroom to get fresh.
When I came out, I saw Akhila sitting on the bed in her usual tomboy style—shirt and pants. It wasn’t surprising to me anymore; I had come to admire how independent and confident she was. Beside her on the bed was a suitcase she had brought out, one filled with her traditional dresses, from churidars to sarees. She had thoughtfully arranged them in my wardrobe, making sure I had options that would feel comfortable, yet special.
Without saying a word, Akhila took one of the half-sarees and gently handed it to me. I felt a mix of emotions—nervousness, curiosity, and something else I couldn’t quite name. She helped me get dressed and accessorized with matching jewelry. When I looked in the mirror, I was taken aback by how different, yet beautiful, I looked. It wasn’t about being a different person—it was about discovering a new side of myself I hadn’t fully embraced before.
Akhila smiled warmly, complementing me as she always did, and that made me feel more at ease. Still, we were running late for our shopping trip, so I adjusted my makeup quickly before we left. It was one of those quiet moments when I realized how far I had come—not just physically, but emotionally, too.
After reaching the mall, we began our shopping trip. Akhila led the way, and we stopped by the saree section. She suggested that I pick out different sarees for various occasions—ones that would suit me, help me feel confident, and allow me to embrace both sides of my identity. I hadn’t realized how much I had enjoyed this experience until it happened—something about choosing clothes that felt both beautiful and empowering in a way that I hadn’t expected.
Along with the sarees, Akhila picked out some innerwear—like bras and panties—She brought me one bikini and one one-piece suit while I was in the trial room. After finishing our shopping, we were both famished. We headed to a nearby restaurant for a relaxing lunch. The conversation flowed easily, and I felt at ease with Akhila’s presence, though I couldn't help but feel the weight of all the changes happening within me. We continued our day by visiting a market for small accessories—hairpins, bindis, bangles, and earrings. At the jewelry store, Akhila found a beautiful silver payal (anklet) that she thought I would love. I was hesitant at first, but when I tried it on, it felt surprisingly right, like a part of me I had been missing.
Our shopping marathon continued until the late afternoon, after which we returned home, thoroughly exhausted. Akhila suggested we take a bath together. I hesitated for a moment but realized she was just being affectionate, and that our boundaries were important to both of us. Afterward, we settled in for the night. Akhila gave me a nightshirt to wear, but I chose a top and skirt from my new wardrobe. I felt comfortable in them, which made me smile at my reflection in the mirror. I was still getting used to the changes, but they felt like a part of me now.
As I stood there, Akhila came up behind me, wrapping her arms around me in a quiet, comforting hug. She kissed my neck, and I felt a surge of warmth, a mix of emotions I couldn't quite place. It wasn’t just about the physical changes; it was about the emotional connection that had developed between us. "Can we sleep now?" she asked, her voice gentle. I nodded, too tired to resist. We had shared so much in the last two days, and I was still processing it all. Akhila had taken on a more dominant role in our relationship, but it never felt one-sided. We respected each other’s space and feelings, always ensuring that we communicated openly. That night, we lay side by side, and I couldn't help but think about how much I had grown—emotionally, physically, and mentally. It wasn’t about the roles we played, but about the love and trust we shared.
On our bed, she started explaining that she had a crush on me since childhood. Observing the outside world, she had decided not to get into any relationship and wanted to live her life alone. But when she saw me in a saree, she fell in love with me at first sight, and she wanted me for her whole life. I listened to her very carefully, and once she finished, I began to speak. I told her I also had a crush on her but had been holding back because I feared our friendship might be ruined. However, when she proposed to me, I felt like I was in heaven, and I accepted her proposal. I also told her that when I saw myself in the saree, I didn’t know why, but I really liked it and felt like I wanted to wear a saree for the rest of my life, just like a girl.
Finally, I told her that I would support her in every situation, like a wife supports her husband. As soon as I said that, she pulled me closer and kissed me deeply on the lips. At first, I was taken by surprise, but soon, I started to enjoy it, and I could feel my breath getting heavy. After a while, I regained my senses and gently pushed her back. I then told her that until marriage, we needed to maintain some distance. From now until our marriage was complete, we would live separately in different rooms. She started to request me to change my mind, but I told her we had to wait until our marriage.
The next morning, after she left for the office, I started watching YouTube tutorials. After watching a few videos, I began practicing. At first, it was difficult, and I didn’t get it right, but I didn’t stop trying. I focused on where I was making mistakes, and after several attempts, I was able to wear saree without any flaws, though it was still taking more time than I expected. I knew that with each passing day, I would get used to wearing sarees, and eventually, I would become as skilled as other women who wear them effortlessly.
Afterward, I prepared lunch in the saree. When Akhila came home for lunch, she looked at me with an intense gaze, almost like a hungry wild animal. I served her lunch, and once she left for the office, I had my meal and continued with my work. In the evening, I freshened up and decided to try on her half-saree. I found it much easier to wear, and I even did a light makeup look, which I had learned from watching tutorials. When Akhila came home, she praised me for how I looked. We chatted for a bit, then had dinner together.
After dinner, I went to the kitchen to finish up my chores while she was watching cricket. Once I completed everything, I sat beside her on the sofa and watched the match with her, even though I had zero interest in cricket. After the game, I changed into a top and skirt and went to bed in one room, while she slept in another.
This became the daily routine of our lives. Every day, I learned new things from YouTube, practicing them until they became second nature. One day, Akhila gifted me silicone breast forms. She helped me attach them, and although it felt different at first, I felt a sense of happiness whenever I wore a saree and saw the perfect shape. Day by day, I started to transform into the ideal wife for Akhila. Within a month, I became a pro at wearing a saree. I could get ready quickly and handle it without difficulty. I also became proficient in makeup. I started to feel as if the breast forms were part of my own body. Every Friday, I would remove them and clean them carefully to avoid any infections.
After a month, we both went to see the priest again. We gave him our horoscopes, explained our story, and requested that he set a date for our marriage. After some calculations, he fixed a date for the wedding in 20 days. We were both overjoyed, and from that moment, the preparations began. We worked closely with the priest, discussing all the requirements for the ceremony. In the end, he gave me a list of things we needed to get. We divided the list into two parts: one for me and one for her, with her list containing mostly external items. We went shopping for our wedding clothes and bought an expensive pattu silk saree for me and a designer men’s sherwani for her. We also purchased a few gold ornaments for me to wear. Finally, we sent out invitations to our friends, most of whom were mutual.
The days flew by, and soon the wedding day arrived. I was dressed in my pattu saree with the help of my friends, who were all girls. As they helped me get ready, they praised me, saying I was more beautiful than any of them. They jokingly commented that God made a mistake by making me a boy. My cheeks turned red with shyness at their compliments.
When the priest called me, my friends held my hand and led me to the mandap. I could see Akhila sitting there, looking handsome in her sherwani. When I sat beside her, she immediately started praising me. After a few rituals, Akhila tied the mangalsutra around my neck, then placed the toe ring on my toes, and finally, she applied sindoor to the middle part of my hair. When the priest declared our marriage was complete, we were overjoyed. We took many photos and celebrated with our friends, who were all so supportive and sportive. They stood by us and made our day even more special.
The priest had fixed our first night for that evening. So, that night, all my friends once again helped me get ready. They dressed me in a pure silk white saree and adorned me with heavy jewelry. As they helped me, they shared advice about their own first-night experiences. While some of their stories made me feel a bit shy, I liked the one thing that stood out: they were treating me just like one of them. Even though they knew I was a boy, they treated me like a girl, and I appreciated their acceptance.
After some playful teasing and advice, they made us play a few games. Eventually, Akhila went to the room, and my friends handed me a glass of milk. They guided me to the room while continuing to offer more tips and reminding me of everything I should remember. When we reached the room, they pushed me inside and locked the door behind me.
I felt incredibly shy as I faced Akhila. She was sitting on the decorated bed, and I moved toward her slowly, step by step. When I reached her, I handed her the glass of milk and bowed to take her blessings like an obedient wife. She blessed me, stood me up, and then took a sip of the milk. She gave the rest of the glass to me, and we shared the milk in this way, repeating the process until the glass was empty.
I don’t know why, but I found myself behaving more like a real girl, and Akhila, in turn, seemed to embrace her role as the man. She took me gently into her embrace, her eyes filled with something deeper than words. When her lips met mine, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a quiet confession of desire and devotion. I didn’t pull away. I couldn't. I responded to her touch instinctively, because now, I was hers—and she was mine.
The moment felt sacred, like a crossing into new territory. With slow, deliberate care, she began to remove the jewelry that adorned me, one piece at a time, her lips pressing softly to each place the ornaments had rested. There was a hunger in her eyes, yes—but it was matched by warmth, trust, and love. She guided me to help her remove her clothing, and I did, feeling a rush of awe and admiration. Vulnerability passed between us, silent and strong. In that space, I found myself taking the lead, tracing kisses across her skin, letting my hands and heart speak where words failed. I could see the effect of my touch in her gaze, in her breath. It filled me with a quiet pride—and deep affection.
Eventually, I collapsed beside her, still in my saree, heart racing. But she wasn’t done yet. With a playful smile, she climbed on top of me, letting her own affection guide her. It was like a dance, one where both of us gave and received in turn. She began to undrape me with care, her hands lingering as if memorizing every part of me. When I was bare before her, her lips met my skin again, not with urgency but with reverence. I could feel my energy return, drawn out by her attention and her affection. She led again, this time with passion but also tenderness. And I followed, willingly. That night, sleep was an afterthought. We lost ourselves in each other, sometimes she took the lead, sometimes I did—but always, we moved together, like two souls learning each other all over again.
The Next Morning, We woke up late, sunlight spilling softly through the curtains. The air felt warm and quiet, wrapped in the intimacy of a new life we had just begun together. As I slowly got up to go freshen up, I noticed her following me—wordlessly, affectionately. There was no hesitation between us anymore. We were married, not just in ritual but in spirit. Privacy had given way to trust. Even the simple act of getting ready together had turned into another shared moment—one filled with quiet laughter and soft touches under the warm water of our bath. After drying off, I slipped into a fresh saree, while she chose a crisp shirt and trousers. She headed to the living room, turning on the TV, while I moved to the kitchen. There was something comforting about this new routine, like we had stepped into a rhythm we were always meant to share.
I prepared breakfast, and when it was ready, we sat together with a single plate between us. We fed each other, smiling in between bites, letting the simplicity of the moment wrap around us like a warm blanket. Later, I swept and tidied the house while she worked on a few things from her phone. I made lunch with the same quiet joy. We ate again together—she feeding me with her hands, and I doing the same. It felt like a ritual of love, one that didn't need words to explain. After lunch, we sat on the sofa, just talking. The conversation flowed easily—soft memories, playful teasing, and daydreams. Then she asked gently, “Do you have any dreams or wishes you still want to fulfill?” I thought for a moment and then looked into her eyes. “I don’t have dreams of my own anymore. My only wish now is to be by your side… to support you, like a true wife. You are my Rama, and I… I am your Sita.”
Her eyes shimmered. She reached out, pulling me into her arms with a deep, grateful tenderness. Her lips found mine, and in that kiss was an entire world—of love, of promises, of being completely seen. Overcome with emotion, she lifted me effortlessly and carried me back to our room. Our bodies moved in harmony, not just out of passion, but because every touch felt like a shared vow. She had taken five days off work to spend this time with me. And in those days, we didn’t waste a moment. Whenever love called, we answered—not just with our bodies, but with hearts wide open.
After those five beautiful days, our life settled into a comforting rhythm. She returned to her job, managing meetings and deadlines, while I fully embraced my role at home—cooking, organizing, and making sure everything felt warm and welcoming when she returned. We lived like any married couple—busy in our own ways, yet always making time for each other. Every weekend became a little adventure. Whether it was a movie, a quiet café, or a tourist spot nearby, we made memories together—laughing, holding hands, taking selfies, and letting love grow in all the little moments. I could feel how much she cared for me—not just in grand gestures, but in her gentle words, her protective glances, and the way she always made sure I never felt alone.
Being her wife gave me a sense of fulfillment I had never known before. I had tasted every joy a woman could—the affection, the companionship, the shared life. But deep down, there was one silent ache I kept tucked away: I knew I could never give birth to a child. It was the only part of womanhood I couldn’t experience, and though I never said it aloud, I often wondered if that emptiness would ever fade.
Then, one ordinary day, everything changed. She mentioned casually that she had missed her period. At first, we both brushed it off. But when days passed, we decided to take a test—just to be sure. The pregnancy kit showed two bright lines. Positive. We stared at it in disbelief. Our hands shook slightly as we rushed to the hospital for confirmation. After the routine checkup, the doctor smiled and said the words that would change everything: “Yes, it’s a healthy pregnancy.”
In that moment, joy filled the room. She looked at me with teary eyes, and I felt something stir in my heart—something new, something sacred. From that day on, I began to see her differently. Not just as my partner, but as someone I needed to protect, to nurture—just as she had always done for me. I insisted she start working from home. I took on even more at home—not out of duty, but out of love. I wanted her to feel safe, pampered, and at peace. She was carrying something so precious—our future. She smiled at my overprotectiveness, sometimes teasing me, calling me "amma" already. But I didn’t mind. Because in her, I had found my whole world—and now, that world was growing.
Eight months passed in what felt like both a blink and a lifetime. Each day was filled with care, excitement, and quiet prayers. I watched over her with all the love I had, supporting her through every mood swing, craving, and tired sigh. She glowed with a gentle strength, and I admired her more than ever.
And then, the day came. With trembling hands and a heart pounding faster than ever before, I waited outside the delivery room. Time seemed to freeze, every second stretching endlessly. And then the nurse came out, her face glowing.
"Congratulations! It's twins—a boy and a girl. Both healthy, and so is the mother." My knees almost gave out. Tears welled up before I could even speak. I rushed in, and when I saw her—tired but radiant, with our two tiny miracles cradled in her arms—I couldn’t hold back. My heart burst open.
I had become a mother. When I looked at the babies, so small, so perfect, I felt something shift in me. A wave of emotions crashed over me—joy, disbelief, gratitude. I kissed her forehead, then kissed each baby, overwhelmed by the love that now lived in our arms.
In that moment, I wept freely. For the life I had never dared to dream. For the love I had found. For the two new souls that had chosen us as their parents. God had written a story for me far more beautiful than I had ever imagined. From a place of uncertainty and longing, I had been led into a life overflowing with love, belonging, and now, a family.
Thank you, God
Thank you, sister, for taking the time to read this new story of mine. I truly appreciate your support! Please feel free to leave some comments or suggestions—I’d love to use your feedback to improve future stories. Once again, thank you so much for always being there for me🫰🏻.
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