Transformation

The doors to the makeup studio swung open, revealing a gleaming white space adorned with gleaming mirrors and an array of cosmetic brushes and powders that looked like they had never been touched.

Five beautiful women in stylish uniforms and a flamboyant man named Ratan bustled around, setting up stations for what was to come.

"Ishan," Sandhya began, her voice soothing despite the cacophony of the bustling studio, "this is Ratan."

She gestured to the man, who was busy fluffing a feather boa around his neck. "He's the best in the business when it comes to bridal transformations. He's worked with every Bollywood diva you can think of."

Ratan looked up, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he took in Ishan's reflection in the mirror.

"Ah, the hero of the hour," he exclaimed, waving his hands dramatically. "Allow me to transform you into the most stunning bride this city has ever seen."

Ishan's smile wavered, and he cast a nervous glance at Sandhya.

"Do they... know?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the clatter of makeup cases being opened and the rustle of fabric.

Sandhya's expression softened, and she placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"They know nothing beyond what's on their NDA contracts," she assured him. "You're safe here."

Ratan, the flamboyant makeup artist, his face more feminine than somewoman standing beside him. Only thing made him stand out was his flat chest that was covered with black tshirt.

He held up a finger dramatically.

"Honey," he announced, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I have so many secrets that in ten minutes, I could ruin the entire film industry's reputation."

The studio erupted in laughter, the tension in the room dissipating like mist in the sun. The makeup artists chuckled, nodding in agreement as they went back to their work.

The door clicked shut behind her, and suddenly the room felt much smaller.

"Okay," Ishan croaked, his voice barely audible.

Ratan's eyes sparkled with mischief as he clapped his hands together

"Excellent! Let's begin with the hair removal," he exclaimed, his voice a mix of excitement and efficiency. "You're in for a real treat, darling."

Sandhya looked at Ishan's bewildered expression, her smile widening. She gave Ishan an encouraging nod before slipping out of the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

'I hope the little ishan is sleep otherwise it will be complicated situation'

As Ratan took in his hairy body, Ishan felt a flicker of embarrassment.

He looked at ishan with judgy eyes and sighs "Looks like we have a lot to work on, when was the last time you shaved your body?"

"I havent shave my body hair ever", Ishan replied.

"I guess so", Ratan replied.

Ratan's team sprang into action, armed with wax strips and depilatory creams, and began the painstaking process of hair removal.

As women meticulously applied the wax, Ishan's body hair was painstakingly removed, triggering involuntary gasps and cries amidst searing, unbearable pain that tested his endurance.

"Ouch!" Ishan shouted, the sound echoing through the studio.

"Don't you know, darling?" Ratan's voice was a mix of laughter and chastisement. "Beauty is pain!" .

The giggles from the makeup artists were like a chorus in the background, as if they were enjoying a private joke at his expense.

Once the hair removal was complete, Ishan was escorted to a luxurious bathroom, the size of his entire family's living room back home.

A bottle of opulent body wash was placed in his hand, and he was told to scrub away the remnants of his old life.

He stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over him.

As he lathered himself, the scent of sandalwood filled the air, and he felt a momentary peace wash over him. He ran his fingers over his hairless body and smiled.

'Never knew my body could be so sensitive, I am afraid I might start liking it too much.'

The team of makeup artists descended upon him like a well-oiled machine. They began by tending to his hands and feet, those unassuming body parts now the focus of their meticulous attention.

The nail technicians filed and shaped his nails, turning them into something delicate and feminine. Ishan watched in fascination as they applied extensions that glittered under the studio lights, each one a silent declaration of his new identity.

The nail paint was a soft, shimmering pink that made him feel like a mannequin in a high-end store window.

Next, the henna artist stepped forward, her hands stained a deep, earthy brown from a lifetime of practicing her craft.

She began to paint intricate patterns on his palms, her movements swift and confident.

The designs grew more elaborate as they snaked up his arms, reaching his elbows, a temporary tapestry that told the story of his transformation.

The women worked with the precision of artists, their hands a blur as they applied the nail extensions and painted them with the finesse of a master chef icing a wedding cake.

The nails grew longer, more feminine, and the soft pink glittered under the harsh lights. The sensation was alien to Ishan, his masculine hands now a canvas for feminine artistry.

After what felt like an eternity, Ratan announced that it was time for the hair transformation. "You're going to be the belle of the ball, darling," he said, his voice a mix of excitement and challenge.

Ishan swallowed hard, his stomach rumbling loudly. "Is it lunchtime yet?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"The bride is hungry," Ratan quipped, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He turned to one of the assistants.

"Get some fruits and juice for Mr. Chaudhary." The room erupted in giggles, and Ishan felt his cheeks burn. He was about to protest, but the hunger pangs won out.

"Thank you," he murmured, feeling embarrassed.

After the snack break, Ratan presented him with an elegant garment bag.

"Your wardrobe for the big day," he said with a flourish. Ishan took it, his heart racing.

Inside was a stunning red lehenga, a color traditionally reserved for brides, along with a delicate choli and petticoat. There was also a set of lingerie that made his cheeks burn. He had never seen anything so...revealing.

Ratan pulled out the crimson underwear, holding it up with a knowing smile. "Ah, the pièce de résistance," he said, his eyes glinting. "This will be your secret weapon, Ishan. It's designed to make any groom's heart race."

Ishan felt a bead of sweat form on his brow as he took the lingerie from Ratan's hand.

"Is this...really necessary?" he stammered, his cheeks burning.

Ratan's smile grew wider.

"But of course, darling," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "The red lingerie is like a siren's call to a sailor. It's meant to drive your husband wild, make him crave you, rip it off with his teeth if he has to."

He winked, and the women in the room giggled again.

'Well I dont think it would be neccessary though, He can hardly lift a finger..... Not that I want him too. God damn! whats going on inside my head'