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MidReal Story
She Went Too Far
Scenario:A group of 3 indian male celebrities are disguised into perfect using women dressed in saree using advanced makeup technique to attend a function in discrete
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Ranveer Kapoor
He is an actor known for his charming onscreen presence. He is adventurous, humorous, and confident. Ranveer decides to disguise himself as a woman for a film role and faces unexpected challenges. His identity remains a secret even to close family members. He undergoes a transformation into a female character named Mona, complete with advanced makeup and a saree. The experience leaves him both amused and intrigued by the complexities of gender roles and societal expectations.
Imran
He is a close friend and fellow actor of Ranveer Kapoor. He is supportive, playful, and curious. Imran agrees to help Ranveer with his disguise by accompanying him to a function under the guise of his sister. He is fascinated by the complexity of the disguise and asks insightful questions. His playful demeanor is evident when he jokingly suggests Ranveer's new persona could be an actress in her own right. He adds humor and camaraderie to the process.
Rohan
He is an aspiring makeup artist with dreams of working in Bollywood. He is enthusiastic, observant, and ambitious. Rohan gets the opportunity to assist with transforming Ranveer into Mona, his makeup skills put to the test. Despite being nervous, he contributes significantly to the disguise process. His involvement helps Ranveer understand the intricacies of transformation through personal experience. Rohan's participation brings freshness and novelty to the scheme, aligning with his goal to gain recognition in the field.
I am Ranveer Kapoor, a well-known actor in Bollywood.
I have always been a bit of a ladies’ man, as I find women very fascinating.
I never tire of talking to them, being around them, and of course, dating them.
I also have a great sense of humor, which I think is a wonderful gift.
I am not afraid of taking risks and trying new things, which is why I decided to disguise myself as a woman for my next film role.
I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t wait to see myself as a woman.
My friend Imran, who is also an actor in Bollywood, agreed to help me with my plan.
He will accompany me to the function tonight as my "brother," and no one will suspect that I am actually a man dressed as a woman.
I have told no one about my plan, not even my family, and I hope that I won’t be recognized at the function.
Imran has arranged for a woman who is skilled with makeup to come to my place and transform me into a woman.
I am excited and a bit nervous.
What if someone recognizes me?
What if I don’t be able to pull off being a woman?
The doorbell rings, and I hear Imran opening the door.
A few minutes later, he walks in with a young man who looks like he is in his early twenties.
"This is Rohan," Imran says.
"He’s a makeup artist and will help you transform into a beautiful woman."
Rohan looks a bit nervous, but he smiles at me and says, "Hello, Ranveer. I’m excited to work with you."
I smile back at him and say, "Hello, Rohan. I’m excited to see what you can do."
Rohan starts unpacking his makeup kit and laying out all of the products on my dresser.
He has a lot of different foundations, concealers, powders, blushes, eyeshadows, mascaras, lip liners, lip glosses, and more.
He also has a variety of brushes and sponges that he uses to apply the makeup.
"Okay, Ranveer," Rohan says.
"Let’s get started. Please sit down in this chair."
I sit down in the vanity chair and look at myself in the mirror.
Rohan stands behind me and starts applying the base layer of makeup to my face.
He uses a brush to apply the foundation evenly all over my face, making sure to cover up any blemishes or imperfections.
Next, he uses a concealer to cover up any dark circles under my eyes and to highlight my cheekbones.
Then, he applies a powder all over my face to set the foundation and concealer in place. After that, Rohan moves on to my eyes.
He applies a light brown eyeshadow all over my lid and then uses a darker brown eyeshadow to create depth in the crease of my eye.
He also lines my upper lash line with a black eyeliner and applies mascara to my lashes to make them look longer and fuller.
Finally, he applies a lip liner to define the shape of my lips and then fills them in with a pink lip gloss.
When he is finished, I look at myself in the mirror and can’t believe how different I look.
My skin is smooth and flawless, my eyes are big and expressive, and my lips are full and luscious.
I feel like a completely different person.
"Wow," Imran says as he walks into the room.
"You look amazing."
"Thanks," I say.
"I feel amazing too."
Imran sits down on the bed behind me and watches as Rohan continues to work on my makeup. "You know," Imran says after a few minutes, "I think you should add some more blush to your cheeks. It would really make your face pop."
Rohan nods and says, "Good idea."
He picks up a pink blush and applies it to my cheeks.
When he is finished, he steps back and looks at me.
"Perfect," he says.
"Now, let’s work on your hair."
Rohan picks up a comb and starts brushing my hair.
He brushes it until it is smooth and silky, and then he pulls it back into a ponytail.
Next, he takes out a curling iron and starts curling my hair into loose waves.
When he is finished, I look at myself in the mirror and can’t believe how beautiful I look.
My hair is long and curly, my skin is smooth and flawless, and my eyes are big and expressive.
I feel like a completely different person.
"Wow," Imran says again as he looks at me.
"You look amazing."
"Thanks," I say again.
"I feel amazing too."
Imran stands up from the bed and walks over to me.
He puts his hands on my shoulders and looks at me in the mirror.
"You know," he says, "I think you should wear a saree tonight. It would really complete your look." "That’s a great idea," Rohan says as he puts away his makeup kit.
"I have a few sarees that you can choose from."
Rohan walks over to his bag and pulls out three sarees.
They are all made of rich silk fabric and are in deep jewel tones: emerald green, sapphire blue, and ruby red.
"Which one do you want to wear?" he asks me.
I look at each of the sarees carefully before answering.
"I think I want to wear the emerald green one," I say finally.
"Great choice," Rohan says as he hands me the saree.
"Now, let’s get started on your disguise."
Rohan helps me put on a petticoat underneath the saree, which is a long skirt that reaches down to my ankles.
Then, he shows me how to walk in the petticoat without tripping over it. After that, Rohan starts working on Imran’s disguise while I practice walking in the petticoat.
It takes him another two hours to finish Imran’s makeup because Imran has a lot more facial hair than I do, so Rohan has to spend extra time covering it up with foundation and concealer.
Imran looks at me with a mischievous grin.
"You know, Ranveer, if we pull this off tonight, it might just be the best performance of your career."
Rohan chuckles and adds, "And who knows, maybe you'll get offers for roles you never even imagined."
I stand in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the pleats of the emerald green saree that Rohan has draped around me.
The fabric feels smooth against my skin, and the intricate embroidery catches the light as I move.
Rohan fusses with the pallu, making sure it drapes elegantly over my shoulder.
I take a deep breath, trying to get used to the unfamiliar sensation of wearing a saree.
It's heavier than I expected, and I have to concentrate on keeping my balance in the low heels that Rohan has given me.
Imran stands next to me, struggling with his own saree.
He curses under his breath as the pleats come undone for the third time.
Rohan moves between us, making final adjustments to our makeup and checking that our wigs are securely in place.
When he finally steps back, he looks at us with a satisfied smile. "You both look amazing," he says.
"Just remember to stay in character and don't draw attention to yourselves."
I nod, taking one last look at myself in the mirror.
I can barely recognize myself - the makeup and wig have transformed me into a beautiful woman.
Imran looks equally stunning in his sapphire blue saree.
We both practice walking across the room, trying to mimic the elegant gait of a woman.
Imran stumbles slightly, but quickly recovers by grabbing onto the dresser for support.
"Careful there, Imran," I tease, adjusting my own posture.
Imran laughs, a bit nervously, and says, "If anyone asks, I'm blaming the heels."
Rohan grins and adds, "Just remember, confidence is key—walk like you own the place."
I adjust my saree one final time in the car mirror, making sure that everything is in place.
Imran sits next to me, fussing with his wig and adjusting the pallu of his saree.
Rohan, who has transformed into a woman named "Roshni" in a ruby red saree, sits in the back seat, giving us last-minute instructions.
The driver navigates through the crowded streets of Mumbai, expertly weaving through traffic as we make our way to the venue.
As we approach the building, I can see the bright lights and bustling activity outside.
My heart starts racing with anticipation and nerves.
I take a deep breath and remind myself to stay calm.
I practice my feminine voice in my head, repeating the soft "namaste" that Rohan taught me to use as a greeting.
The car slows down as we reach the entrance, where photographers and guests are milling about.
I can feel my palms growing sweaty around my clutch purse as the valet approaches the car.
I step out of the car carefully, making sure that the pleats of my saree don't get tangled in the door.
The valet holds the door open for me, and I give him a small smile as I step out onto the pavement.
Imran follows behind me, his hand reaching out to steady himself on my arm.
Rohan gets out last, gracefully adjusting his saree as he steps out of the car.
We walk slowly towards the entrance, our heels clicking on the pavement.
Security guards stand at the door, checking invitations and scanning guests with metal detectors.
I hold my breath as we approach them, hoping that our disguises will pass muster.
The guard looks at us briefly, then asks to see our invitation.
I hold out the card that Rohan gave us, trying to keep my hand from shaking.
The guard barely glances at it before nodding and waving us through. We breathe a sigh of relief as we step inside the lobby.
The air conditioning hits my face like a cool breeze, and I can feel my wig itching slightly against my scalp.
We pause for a moment in front of the grand doors that lead to the main hall, exchanging nervous glances with each other.
With a final nod of determination, we push open the doors and step into the dazzling world beyond, ready to embrace the roles we've crafted.
I move cautiously through the glittering hall, keeping my movements small and delicate as Rohan had instructed.
The room is filled with people dressed in their finest clothes, the women's sarees shimmering under the lights.
I scan the crowd, looking for a group of people to join.
My eyes land on a cluster of elderly aunties standing near the buffet table.
They are all wearing expensive silk sarees and have gold jewelry draped around their necks.
I nudge Imran and gesture towards the aunties.
He follows my gaze and nods in agreement.
We make our way slowly over to the group, trying not to draw attention to ourselves.
Imran keeps tugging at his pallu, adjusting it nervously as we walk.
When we reach the group, I fold my hands in namaste and pitch my voice higher as I greet them.
"Namaste auntieji," I say, trying to sound as feminine as possible. The aunties turn to look at us, their faces breaking into warm smiles when they see us.
"Namaste beta," one of them says, beckoning us over.
"We don't often get such beautiful young women joining us."
I smile back at her, feeling a surge of confidence at her compliment.
"Thank you auntieji," I reply, taking a seat next to her on the couch.
Imran sits down beside me, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
The auntie who spoke before turns to us again, her eyes shining with curiosity.
"Tell me beta," she says, "where are you from? What are your names?"
I launch into the story that Rohan has prepared for us, telling them that our names are "Mona" and "Meera" and that we are from a small town in Gujarat.
Imran joins in occasionally, but mostly he just nods along with what I'm saying. One of the aunties asks us about our family background, and I recite the story that Rohan has given us about our parents being friends from college and wanting us to meet each other.
As I'm speaking, I notice Imran accidentally dropping his voice back down to its normal masculine pitch.
I discreetly elbow him in the side, hoping that no one else has noticed his slip-up.
Luckily, no one seems to have heard anything out of place, and they continue asking us questions about ourselves.
After a few minutes, we excuse ourselves from the aunties and make our way over to a corner table near the dessert station.
The heavy silk of my saree rustles against my legs as I walk, and I have to adjust the pleats carefully when I sit down so that they don't get bunched up.
Imran sits beside me, leaning in close to whisper in my ear.
"You were so convincing back there," he says, his voice barely audible over the music.
"I almost forgot that you weren't really a woman."
I smile at him, feeling a sense of pride at how well we've pulled off our disguises so far.
"Thanks," I reply quietly, glancing around to make sure that no one is listening in on our conversation.
"But we can't get too comfortable. We still need to keep up the act."
Imran nods in agreement, straightening up in his chair and adopting a more feminine posture.
We both pretend to study the menu card that has been placed on the table, scanning the options for something appetizing. As I'm looking over the menu, Imran's hand accidentally brushes against mine under the table.
I feel a strange tingle run up my arm at his touch, and I freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do.
I glance over at him, expecting him to pull his hand away quickly, but instead he just looks at me with confusion written across his face.
I realize that he didn't even notice touching me, and I quickly pull my hand back before anyone else sees it.
I reach for my water glass and take a sip, trying to calm my racing heart.
What was that strange feeling when Imran touched me?
I've never felt anything like it before, and it's left me feeling confused and uncertain about what's happening inside of me.
As I'm sipping my water, I can't help but steal glances at Imran out of the corner of my eye.