“Her Bikini, My Secret: The Femme Boy Reveal”
I never meant for her to find out.
It was a lazy Saturday. She had gone out for coffee and a yoga class, and I was alone left with temptation. The drawer was right there. Her swimsuits. Her favorite Lycra bikini, the one I always watched her wear, hugging her in all the right places. Electric pink, shiny, stretchy, barely covering anything.
I stood in front of the mirror, heart racing, pulling it up over my legs, over my crotch—tight, snug, almost tucking me flat. Then the top. Ridiculous, I knew. But when it was on, I didn’t feel ridiculous. I felt… right. Feminine. Pretty. Daring.
I posed a little. Then a lot. Then went out by the pool, letting the sun touch my skin. I didn’t hear the door open. I didn’t hear her call my name.
What I did hear was her shocked gasp.
I spun around, caught red-handed. “Babe—I’m sorry—I—I can explain—”
She just blinked. Her eyes scanned me. Her bikini on my body. My body looking… flat. Femme. Caught.
“Oh my god,” she said, stepping closer, hand over her mouth. “You’re wearing my bikini.”
“I didn’t mean anything weird,” I said, trembling. “I was just curious. I—I know it’s wrong, and I’m not gay, I just—”
She interrupted me by laughing. Not cruelly. Not mockingly. Just… amused.
“Wrong?” she asked. “Babe, you actually look cute.”
I froze.
“I mean… you’ve tucked yourself in without even trying, and that top? With your shoulders? It’s kinda hot in a weird little femme boy way.” She grinned. “But babe, if you’re gonna wear bikinis… we’re gonna do this properly.”
My mouth went dry. “Properly?”
She pulled out her phone.
“I’m ordering you your own Lycra bikinis. Not these half-fits. I mean real suits—micro bikinis. Spandex so tight they’ll erase that little bulge completely. Thongs that lift your ass like you’re begging to be spanked. If my cute little boyfriend’s got a femme side, we’re showing it off.”
I was speechless. Her voice dropped lower, sultrier.
“Oh, and just so we’re clear—this doesn’t make you gay. This makes you mine. My sweet, sexy little femme boy.”
I blushed hard.
“Now,” she said, biting her lip. “Get inside. You’re staying in that bikini until the package arrives. Then… we’re having a fashion show.”
And just like that, I went from shameful secret… to her pampered, perfectly dressed femme boy.
“Her Bikini, My Secret — Part 2: The Micro Collection Arrives”
Three days later, the box arrived.
It was small. Suspiciously small. But when she opened it, her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Come here, babe,” she said with a devilish smile, holding up the first micro bikini. “Time to try on your new wardrobe.”
The first one was pink. Hot pink. Gleaming Lycra, with a tiny triangle pouch in front and strings so thin they looked like dental floss. She held it up next to my body and smirked.
“This one’s called the ‘Sissy Stinger,’” she said. “I got it from a little company that specializes in MTF micro thongs. This one’s got a camel-toe illusion pouch. It’ll make your little guy disappear completely.”
I stared at it, heart pounding.
“I… I don’t know if I can wear that in front of you,” I said quietly.
She stepped in close, put a hand under my chin, and lifted my eyes to hers.
“You already did, remember? You wore my bikini. You looked adorable then. This? This is made just for you, femme boy. I want to see what my sissy boyfriend looks like in it.”
My hands were shaking as I took it from her and slipped into the bathroom.
When I pulled the thong up, the tight Lycra molded to me like it was painted on. It flattened everything—so smooth, so convincingly feminine. I turned to the mirror and gasped. Between my legs: nothing. Just a perfect little faux camel toe, like a girl’s suit.
I stepped out slowly.
Her jaw dropped.
“Oh… my… god,” she said, her eyes trailing from my hips to my chest, then back down to the fake feminine gap between my legs. “You’re not a boy right now. You’re my girly little swim toy.”
I blushed furiously.
“Turn around,” she whispered.
I obeyed.
The thong back framed my ass like a heart. Her hand slid up my thigh and gave me a playful slap.
“Perfect.”
From there, the night got steamier.
She had me model every suit. A shimmering silver Lycra slingshot that barely covered the essentials. A sheer lace-panel bikini that turned translucent when I got wet. And a royal blue thong with an attached plug she lubed up and helped slide in herself.
“You’re not allowed to wear boring men’s swimsuits anymore,” she told me as I knelt in front of her in my favorite hot pink set. “From now on, it’s micro bikinis only, just like your queen. You’re my poolside princess now.”
The next morning, she posted a pic of us lounging by the pool. Her in her usual sexy bikini. Me… in the exact same one. Twin femme babes.
No one even questioned it. Some girls commented “Goals!” Others just dropped fire emojis.
And her caption?
“My cute little bikini boy 💕 Femme is the new sexy.”