A Body in Layers: A Femboy Story

I am a femboy, and my daily life exists somewhere between the feminine and the masculine.

My body, shaped over time through training, clothing, and discipline, carries a feminine outline, while my public role often requires restraint and concealment.

This is not a dramatic story of transformation, but a quiet record of how identity, the body, and choice move together through one ordinary working day.

Morning: Awakening and Preparation

Today, outside the window, the wind was still biting cold. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the alarm clock dutifully woke me up anyway. I couldn’t help stretching; I turned off the alarm and switched on the light. The moment I saw the women’s clothes lying neatly beside me, the drowsiness vanished.

I gently ran my hand over the brand-new shaping garment I’d already put on before sleeping, feeling that “second skin” against my body. I moved the hooks from the loosest row to the tightest. Then I picked up the second shaping piece next to it, fastened its hooks to the tightest row, and quickly put it on.

I touched my chest again. Thanks to long-term training and shaping, it has reached about a B cup. I really wish it could grow a little more—but for two reasons I have to hold back: first, at work I still present as male, and if it gets too large it would be obvious; second, my partner prefers a flatter, more boyish silhouette. So I have to restrain it a little.

I took a non-stretch chest binder, drew in a deep breath, and fastened its hooks to the tightest row, too. Mm—now I couldn’t take big breaths. My chest was pressed into a single, flat plane. No matter how I moved, it stayed flat and smooth.

I then tightened my abdominal wrap, pulled on two layers of leggings, and looked in the mirror. Satisfied, I smiled.

Body, Training, and Change

In fact, my body used to fit women’s sizes L and XL. But after long-term training and fitness work, I can now wear M, and even some S sizes. The truth is, the human body is highly shapeable—we’ve all seen men who look like women or women who look like men out on the street, haven’t we?

I also understand a bit about muscle tissue from courses I took back in school, so I know how to train properly. The development of my chest is real; otherwise, I wouldn’t be troubled by the need to bind it.

Work: Passing, Concealment, and Routine

When I go to work, I wear men’s clothes on the outside. Actually, when I applied for this job, my chest wasn’t this full yet. But since my hobby is dressing and I want to live as a girl in my own way, I went “a little crazy” once.

I wore a bra to the interview, shaped it to look like a B cup. I also wore women’s tight-fitting pants, and I even bought two hip pads to wear underneath. I was very nervous.

But the interviewer had seen all kinds of people and didn’t care about that at all—so long as you could do the work. So after I joined, I dressed like this every day. Very rarely did any coworkers comment on it.

The Feeling of Being Bound

That tightly wrapped, restrained feeling is wonderful. It’s different from just wearing a bra: it feels as if my body has merged with the shaping layers and binder. No matter how I move, nothing shifts.

They hold their positions faithfully, keeping to the narrow space they define. My body “has no choice” but to yield inside them—and enjoy that space that belongs only to them.

On the Way: Gestures and Identity

On the way to the subway station, sometimes if my chest gets bumped, I’ll instinctively lift a hand to protect it. But then I remember—that’s a gesture girls often make, and right now I’m presenting myself in a more masculine way, so I should act more like a boy.

Heh… sometimes it’s strange, isn’t it?

Cycles of Gender and Self

Biologically, I’m male, yet because of my preferences, I hide what’s below, wear hip padding, a bra, and shaping garments that are almost never off my body. With long-term training and development, my shape is no different from a woman’s.

Then I met my partner, who bound my feminine chest shape back into a masculine outline.

Sometimes time feels like a cycle—but not a simple cycle. It has brought me many things. It placed these shaping layers and binder onto my body, hid what’s below, and gradually made them feel like a part of me. Yes—this is the real me.

At the Office: Endurance

When I got to the office, I rested a little. Because of the binder, I can’t breathe deeply, and then I began my day’s work.

Sometimes I truly want to take it off. But I tell myself I can’t. Since I chose this kind of life, I have to keep walking it.

Evening: Longing and Play

After a full day of work, sometimes I want to eat alone at a small diner, and I start missing my earlier, more feminine silhouette.

So before leaving work, when it’s less crowded, I put on a pair of breast forms I bought when I first began this life and wear a C-cup bra before heading out.

Sometimes I can be a little mischievous—I’ll take off my outer layer briefly and quietly notice where the server’s eyes go. Heh. Sometimes I do that. My partner doesn’t object.

Sometimes, too, in private, we engage in a bit of role-play—my partner taking on a more boyish role, hands resting on my chest. The feeling is strangely wonderful.

I feel so good—but I don’t dare show it openly, because by then I’m already wrapped tightly in three or four layers of close-fitting clothing. In that moment, my body no longer feels like it belongs to me—yet I like that irresistible, can’t-stop feeling.

Night: Release and Return

Then I go to the shower. Those few minutes are the only time I’m away from the shaping garments and binder.

Seeing in the mirror that hazy outline that looks so much like a woman’s shape, I can’t help smiling.

When I leave the bathroom, I put on a freshly washed set of tight layers. First, I challenge myself and fasten the hooks on the tightest row.

Suddenly, it feels like it isn’t enough anymore.

So I take out another set—mm, put it on.

This is the feeling that truly feels like me.

And just like that, I can fall asleep in peace.