Farzin's Thoughts

Archana’s hospital morning shift started early. The moment she left for work, I would slowly open her wardrobe and wear her clothes. Her soft cotton nighties, her formal shirts, her sarees, even her innerwear — everything. I would spend the whole day dressed as a girl inside her flat, doing small chores, cooking, or just lying on the bed feeling feminine. When she came back tired from her shift, we would roam around Chennai like old friends — beaches, malls, quiet cafés, long drives. Those days felt peaceful and healing. One night we both got quite drunk. She opened up about her college love story and the depression she went through after the breakup. I listened and shared my own pain about Daddy leaving. We were sitting very close on the bed. Suddenly the atmosphere changed. We started kissing. It was slow at first, then deeper. Our hands moved over each other’s bodies. But when she touched me between my legs, there was no erection. My clitty stayed soft. She didn’t get upset. Instead...

 That message came at the lowest point of my life. I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when my phone lit up. Archana. My closest school friend from boarding school in Kothagiri. We had been inseparable back then. During holidays, if her car came from Pondicherry, I would go with her. If my car came, she would come with me. We stayed in each other’s houses during holidays like brother and sister. She was the first person I ever trusted with my secret. Back in school, when I was still confused and didn’t even know the word “sissy,” I first told her I was gay. She didn’t judge me even for a second. Later, when I gathered the courage to tell her about wearing my sister’s clothes, she came home one day when no one was there. She dressed me up properly, applied makeup on my face, made me wear bangles and earrings, and made me stand in front of the mirror. “Look at you… you look so pretty,” she had said with a soft smile. After school she went for MBBS and became busy with studies...

There was a strange truth I slowly understood. For a normal girl, a low body count might hold some value in society’s eyes. But for a sissy like me, the more experience I had, the more demand I created. My body count that single year alone was already touching three digits. Most of them came from old contacts who kept returning for more, and many became regular, repeated customers who couldn’t get enough of me. Through Dani, my weekends turned into a non-stop slut marathon. I lived out every filthy fantasy they threw at me. Some days I stayed locked in chastity, other days I was completely free — riding, getting fucked raw, and used in every hole. I wore every costume they wanted: innocent school girl with short skirt and knee-high socks, tight hijab with nothing underneath, seductive secretary, even roleplays where I became their “daughter” or “little sister.”  Weekend after weekend I was fucked raw and wild. One-on-one sessions that left me sore for days, threesomes where I was s...

The next morning we left Eilean Donan and drove towards the magical Isle of Skye. The scenery was breathtaking — dramatic mountains, deep blue lochs, and misty highlands. We explored the island the whole day, stopping at the famous viewpoints, walking along the coast, and taking hundreds of photos together like a real couple. Later in the afternoon, I suddenly remembered the famous Harry Potter bridge from the movies. When I told Daddy, he smiled and immediately changed our route. We drove to Glenfinnan Viaduct and stood there for a long time, imagining the steam train pass over the bridge just like in the films. It felt surreal and romantic. In the evening we did a whisky distillery tour. We tasted different Scotch whiskies, learned about the process, and enjoyed the warm, peaty flavours. Before leaving, I secretly bought a beautiful limited-edition Scotch bottle as a thank-you gift for Daddy. When I gave it to him in the car, his eyes softened. He pulled me close and kissed me deepl...