Mother of Me

Chapter 21: Locked Identities

The tenth day of the swap brought with it a new kind of dread.

The new Sangeetha woke up early, as had become her painful routine. She performed her morning bath with mechanical silence, soaping her heavy breasts, feeling them sway under the shower, cleaning the sensitive folds of her vagina while the sanitary pad lay waiting on the counter. She chose a simple light blue cotton saree today, draping it with slightly better skill than before. The pallu was pinned tightly over her chest, the mangalsutra resting heavily between her breasts.

She came out into the hall to find the new Prakash already sitting on the sofa, looking deeply worried.

Both of them had seen the NEET news last night.

“Amma…” the new Prakash whispered urgently, “What are we going to do about the NEET? They’ve announced the re-exam in a month. The real Prakash I mean, I already gave two attempts. But this body… this Prakash knows almost nothing about the latest syllabus, the new pattern, or the high-level questions. My future… your future… everything might get ruined!”

The new Sangeetha sat down slowly, her breasts settling heavily on her lap. She adjusted her pallu with trembling fingers.

“I know, Prakash,” she said in her mother’s soft voice. “I’m scared too. I know nothing about NEET. If we don’t swap back soon, you… I mean this body… might not clear it. All your hard work for the last two years will be wasted.”

The new Prakash looked at her with guilty eyes. “We’ll change back in a few days. Meera said the reversal will be ready soon. We just have to hold on a little longer. Please don’t worry, Amma. I’ll help you study whatever I remember once we swap back.”

They sat in heavy silence, both of them terrified about the uncertain future.

Just then, Selvam walked out of the bathroom, freshly shaved and dressed in a clean shirt and trousers. He looked energetic and determined.

“Good morning, both of you,” he said with a warm smile. “Today we are going out as a family. I’ve already booked a cab. Get ready quickly.”

The new Sangeetha’s heart sank. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Selvam replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Something important for our future.”

There was no choice. The new Sangeetha went back to the bedroom and changed into a more presentable **cream and maroon saree**. She re-did her hair, freshened her sindoor, and made sure her mangalsutra was visible. The new Prakash wore a simple shirt and jeans.

A cab arrived shortly, and all three of them got in. Selvam sat in the front, while “his wife” and son sat in the back. Throughout the journey, Selvam kept turning back, holding the new Sangeetha’s hand and talking about how he wanted to rebuild their family.

The cab stopped in front of a large government office complex in the city centre. The board outside read “District Registrar & Digital Identity Centre.”

Selvam led them inside with confidence. “Come. This is important.”

They were taken to a private section after Selvam showed some documents. For the next two and a half hours, they were made to go through an extensive process.

First, they had to sign multiple lengthy documents. The new Sangeetha’s hands shook badly as she signed “Sangeetha Satyamoorthy” again and again. Then came the biometric registration, fingerprints of all ten fingers for both mother and son, followed by iris scans, facial recognition mapping, and even voice samples.

The new Sangeetha felt violated as the machine scanned her eyes and recorded her voice. The new Prakash looked equally pale.

After everything was completed, Selvam sat them down in a quiet corner and explained with satisfaction.

“First thing, the NEET board now requires biometric verification for all candidates to prevent impersonation. So Prakash’s fingerprints and iris are now officially registered. Second, I have enrolled our family in the new Digital Family Record system. All our bank accounts, Aadhaar, passports, property documents, and government IDs are now locked and linked only to these biometrics. No one else can access or change anything without our fingerprints and iris.”

He smiled proudly. “Our future is now secure. Everything is in order.”

The new Sangeetha and new Prakash sat frozen in terror. Their biometrics, the swapped bodies’ fingerprints and iris patterns, were now permanently recorded in the government system. There was no going back easily.

On the way back, Selvam insisted on some shopping. He bought new clothes for Prakash, some groceries, and finally stopped at a flower shop. He bought a string of fresh jasmine flowers and gently placed them in the new Sangeetha’s hair, tucking them into her bun.

“You look beautiful with flowers,” he said softly, touching her cheek.

The new Sangeetha forced a smile, feeling completely trapped and humiliated. The sweet smell of jasmine now filled her senses with every movement of her head.

As soon as they reached home in the evening, the new Sangeetha and new Prakash found a moment to call Dr. Meera from the bedroom with the door locked.

“Ma’am… this is very bad,” the new Sangeetha whispered urgently. “Selvam has registered our fingerprints and iris scans in the government system. Even for NEET. Can we change the fingerprints during reversal?”

Meera’s voice was serious on the other end.

“Unfortunately, the current technology is not advanced enough to perfectly replicate or transfer fingerprints and iris patterns during reversal. The skin overlays and nano-prosthetics can change appearance, but the underlying fingerprint ridges and iris structures are extremely difficult to fake at a government database level. You are… stuck with the current biometrics for now.”

The new Sangeetha’s voice broke. “Then… how long? At least until the NEET re-exam?”

Meera sighed. “At least until then. Possibly longer. We’ll try to find a solution, but it will take time.”

The call ended.

Both the new Sangeetha and new Prakash sat on the bed, staring at each other in complete despair.

Their bodies were swapped.
Their biometrics were now locked.
Their abusive father was back and trying to “rebuild” the family.
And the NEET re-exam was hanging over their heads like a sword.

The new Sangeetha touched the jasmine flowers still in her hair and felt like crying.

The experiment that was supposed to last only 10 peaceful days had now become a terrifying, long-term nightmare.

Chapter 22: A Husband’s Shadow

The eleventh day of the swap felt heavier than all the previous days combined.

The new Sangeetha woke up with a dull ache in her lower back and a familiar tightness in her chest. Her breasts felt swollen and tender today. She lay in bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, the mangalsutra resting heavily between her breasts. The thought of spending another full day alone with Selvam terrified her. Every hug, every touch, every “darling” from him felt like a slow poison.

She freshened up quickly and went to the kitchen in her nighty to start preparing breakfast. The smell of boiling milk and frying onions soon filled the house.

Meera had called early that morning with a partial solution. She had promised to personally coach the new Prakash (the real Sangeetha in her son’s body) for the upcoming NEET re-exam. “I’ll handle his studies at the lab,” Meera had said. “We’ll make sure this body clears it. Don’t worry about academics for now.”

The new Prakash had left for the lab right after a quick breakfast, looking both nervous and determined.

This left the new Sangeetha completely alone with Selvam.

She was standing at the stove, stirring the sambar, when she felt him behind her.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Selvam pulled her back against his chest, his body pressing firmly into her soft, curvy backside. His breath was warm on her neck as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

“Mmm… only you are the best perfume in the world,” he murmured, his voice husky. One of his hands slowly moved up from her waist and rested just below her breasts, feeling the softness of her belly through the thin nighty.

The new Sangeetha froze. Goosebumps erupted all over her body. Her nipples hardened involuntarily against the fabric. She could feel his hardness pressing against her buttocks. Her heart hammered wildly.

“Look at our son,” Selvam whispered, his lips brushing her earlobe. “He has grown so much. Should we give him a little sister… or a brother?”

He let the words hang in the air for a few terrifying seconds.

Then he chuckled softly. “Just kidding… or maybe not.”

The new Sangeetha’s entire body trembled. A cold fear gripped her stomach. She gently but firmly pulled away from his embrace, forcing a weak smile.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” she said in a shaky voice and quickly moved away, adjusting her nighty with trembling hands.

She barely ate anything. As soon as Selvam went to take a bath, she rushed to the bedroom, changed into a simple peach salwar kameez, draped the dupatta tightly over her chest, and told him she was going to the shop.

“I haven’t gone in many days. Ramya and Ratish must be struggling,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

Selvam nodded understandingly. “Okay, darling. Come back soon.”

She almost ran out of the house.

At Lace & Grace, the familiar smell of new fabric and rose sachets greeted her like an old friend.

The moment she stepped in, Ramya looked up and smiled brightly. “Akka! Finally! We thought you were sick or something.”

Priya waved from the corner. Ratish, who was arranging new stock, turned around with a gentle smile. “Sangeetha ma… you look a little tired. Everything okay?”

The new Sangeetha forced a smile and nodded. “Just… some family matters. I’m fine.”

The ladies immediately pulled her into their warm circle. For the first few hours, the shop became her safe haven. They gossiped about customers, shared funny stories, and teased her about looking more beautiful these days. Ratish was especially attentive, he brought her water when she looked tired, helped her arrange heavy boxes so she wouldn’t strain herself, and spoke to her softly whenever she seemed lost in thought.

“Akka, if anything is bothering you, you can tell us,” Ramya said once, holding her hand.

The new Sangeetha felt a strange comfort mixed with deep humiliation. Here she was a boy trapped in a woman’s body, being comforted by other women, adjusting her dupatta every few minutes, feeling her breasts move, feeling the panty and pad between her legs. Yet their kindness felt like the only warmth in her current nightmare.

Ratish’s gentle nature especially touched her. He never stared inappropriately. He was respectful, helpful, and genuinely concerned. At one point, when she was struggling to reach a high shelf, he quietly came behind her and lifted the box for her without making her feel small.

For a few hours, she almost forgot the terror waiting for her at home.

By 8:15 PM, they were closing the shop. The new Sangeetha was helping Ramya pull down the shutter when a new white sedan stopped right in front of the boutique.

Selvam stepped out, looking smart and confident.

The new Sangeetha’s heart sank.

Ramya’s eyes widened. “Akka… is that…?”

Ratish also looked surprised, though he quickly masked a flicker of disappointment.

Selvam walked over with a pleasant smile. “Hello everyone. I’m Selvam, Sangeetha’s husband. I’ve come back after many years. Thank you for taking care of my wife all this time.”

The ladies were shocked but happy. They congratulated Sangeetha, saying how lucky she was. Ratish shook Selvam’s hand politely, but his eyes kept darting to the new Sangeetha, who looked visibly uncomfortable and sweaty.

As they were about to leave, Ratish gently placed a hand on her shoulder, a small, comforting gesture.

“Take care, Sangeetha ma,” he said softly, his eyes full of quiet concern. He could sense something was deeply wrong.

Selvam noticed the hand on his “wife’s” shoulder. His eyes narrowed for a split second, but he said nothing. He simply smiled, put his arm possessively around the new Sangeetha’s waist, and guided her towards the car.

“Shall we go, darling?”

The new Sangeetha glanced back at her friends, especially at Ratish, with helpless eyes as she was led away. Ratish stood there, watching the car leave, a deep frown forming on his face. He knew something was not right, but he had no idea what.

Inside the car, Selvam placed his hand on her thigh and smiled.

“You looked beautiful today,” he said.

The new Sangeetha stared out the window, her body rigid with fear, the jasmine-scented pallu feeling like chains around her.

The nightmare was only getting worse.

Chapter 23: The Weight of Twenty Days

Twenty days had passed since Selvam’s unexpected return, twenty long, exhausting, and emotionally draining days that felt like an eternity to the new Sangeetha.

Each morning began the same way. She would wake up with a heavy heart, feeling the familiar weight of her 36C breasts pressing down on her chest, the mangalsutra lying warm between them. She would bathe slowly, her hands trembling as she soaped her soft curves, feeling every sensitive inch of her mother’s body, the way her nipples tightened under warm water, the slickness between her thighs, the gentle swell of her belly, and the constant awareness of her vagina. After drying herself, she would dress in a fresh saree or salwar, carefully draping the pallu to hide her cleavage, tying the petticoat low on her wide hips, and completing the look with bangles, anklets, toe rings, and the ever-present sindoor.

The days had fallen into a painful rhythm.

Selvam continued his “slow and respectful” approach. He would flirt occasionally, brushing his hand against her waist while she cooked, complimenting how beautiful she looked in sarees, or pulling her close for a lingering hug from behind, inhaling the scent of her hair and jasmine flowers. He still slept on the sofa, but his eyes grew hungrier with each passing day. The new Sangeetha lived in constant fear of the night he would finally demand his marital rights.

To escape being alone with him, she started going to Lace & Grace almost every day. The shop had become her only sanctuary, even though working there came with its own deep humiliations.

At the shop, she spent hours folding bras and panties, helping women choose lingerie, measuring bust sizes, and listening to customers talk about their bodies. Every time she held up a bra or explained cup sizes, she felt a burning shame, she was a boy trapped in a woman’s body, touching and selling intimate garments while her own heavy breasts strained against her blouse.

Yet, Ramya, Priya, and especially Ratish gave her unexpected comfort.

Ramya would pull her into warm conversations about serials and recipes. Priya teased her playfully. Ratish remained the gentlest of all, always noticing when she looked tired or anxious. He would quietly take over heavy tasks, bring her tender coconut water when she looked pale, and speak to her in soft, respectful tones. His kindness made the new Sangeetha feel strangely safe, even though she knew it was dangerous.

To avoid Selvam even more, she began socializing heavily with the neighbours. She visited Lalitha’s house often, helped Meenakshi with small chores, and even attended Divya’s evening tea sessions. Every visit was humiliating ,sitting with legs closed, adjusting her pallu constantly, listening to women talk about periods, husbands, and motherhood while she smiled and nodded. But it was better than being at home.

Meanwhile, the new Prakash (real Sangeetha) had thrown himself completely into NEET preparation. He went to the lab every day for special coaching under Meera. He was focused, determined, and surprisingly comfortable in his male body. He had also grown close to Ramya’s daughter Priya — they would talk for hours about studies, movies, and life whenever he visited the shop. Their friendship was easy and natural.

But for the new Sangeetha, comfort remained elusive.

Then came the real test.

It was a warm Thursday evening when Selvam returned home with a broad smile.

“Big news!” he announced. “My mother is coming to stay with us from today. She has been living with my brother all these years, but now she wants to stay with us. She’ll stay in the hall for now.”

The new Sangeetha’s blood ran cold.

Selvam’s mother Pattamma was a strict, traditional, and notoriously wicked woman. Even the real Sangeetha had feared her during the early years of marriage. She was sharp-tongued, controlling, and deeply conservative.

That evening, Pattamma arrived with two large suitcases and a commanding presence. She was in her late sixties, dressed in a stark white saree, with sharp eyes and a thin, disapproving mouth.

After a brief, cold greeting, she looked around the house and declared, “This house needs a proper woman’s touch again. I will stay here in the hall. Selvam, you should move into the bedroom with your wife from tonight. It’s not right for a husband to sleep separately.”

The new Sangeetha felt the ground disappear beneath her feet.

That night, after dinner, the tension in the house was unbearable.

Pattamma had already started giving instructions, how to cook, how to keep the house, how a “good wife” should behave. The new Sangeetha endured it all with lowered eyes.

At 10:30 PM, Selvam entered the bedroom carrying his pillow and a small bag. He closed the door softly behind him.

The new Sangeetha had already changed into a simple cream-coloured nighty. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt dizzy. She sat on the edge of the bed, legs tightly closed, arms wrapped around herself.

Selvam changed into a vest and lungi and lay down on the bed. For a few minutes, there was silence.

Then he turned towards her.

“Come closer, Sangeetha,” he whispered.

She hesitated, but slowly moved nearer. Selvam pulled her into his arms, turning her so they were face to face. His strong body pressed against her soft, curvy one. He could feel the fullness of her breasts against his chest.

He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. The new Sangeetha’s body stiffened. His lips were rough, demanding. His hand slowly moved down her back, over the curve of her waist, and rested on her plump buttocks. He squeezed gently, pulling her even closer.

His hand then slid lower, between her thighs, cupping her most intimate area through the thin nighty. The new Sangeetha trembled violently. Tears filled her eyes. She felt his fingers pressing against her vagina, the warmth of his palm making her clit throb unwillingly.

For a long moment, he held her like that, kissing her neck, breathing heavily, his hand exploring her body.

Then, suddenly, he stopped.

He pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes with restrained hunger.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “I want you to be comfortable first. I’ve waited eight years. I can wait a few more days.”

He kissed her forehead tenderly and turned to his side, but kept one arm possessively around her waist.

The new Sangeetha lay there, frozen, staring at the ceiling with tears silently rolling down her cheeks. Her body was on fire with fear and unwanted sensations. The weight of her breasts, the warmth between her legs, the heavy arm around her, everything felt like a cage.

Outside, in the hall, Pattamma’s presence loomed like a dark shadow.

Inside the bedroom, the real storm was only beginning.

Chapter 24: The Monster in White

The week after Pattamma moved in became a living nightmare for the new Sangeetha.

Pattamma was everything the old stories warned about a strict, traditional, sharp tongued mother in law who believed a daughter in law’s only purpose was to serve her husband and family without question. From the very first day, she took complete control of the house like a dictator in a white saree.

Day 1

The very morning after she arrived, Pattamma sat at the dining table while the new Sangeetha served coffee.

“Why do you need to go to that shop every day?” she asked sharply. “A married woman working outside? What is the need? Your only job is to take care of your husband and this house. Selvam is earning well now. Stay at home and serve him properly.”

The new Sangeetha opened her mouth to protest, but Selvam quickly intervened.

“Amma, times have changed. Let her work if she wants. She has been managing alone for eight years.”

Pattamma grumbled but stayed silent for the moment. However, her eyes promised that this conversation was far from over.

The Bath Incident (Day 3)

On the third day, Pattamma crossed every boundary.

It was 6:30 AM. The new Sangeetha had just entered the bathroom for her morning bath when Pattamma pushed the door open without knocking.

“What is this? Why are you bathing alone? In our tradition, mother-in-law and daughter-in-law should bathe together sometimes. It builds closeness,” she declared.

The new Sangeetha’s face turned pale. “No… Amma… I’m fine alone…”

But Pattamma wouldn’t listen. She locked the door from inside and began removing her own white saree.

Left with no choice, the new Sangeetha stood trembling as she removed her nighty, then her bra and panty. She stood completely naked in front of her mother-in-law.

Pattamma looked at her body critically, then with strange approval.

“Ayyo… look at you,” she said, circling her slowly. “Such fair skin. Heavy breasts, good for feeding babies. Wide hips… perfect for childbirth. Your waist is a little thick, but that’s okay. Selvam will like this body.”

The new Sangeetha wanted to die from shame. She covered her breasts with one arm and her vagina with the other hand, but Pattamma pulled her hands away.

“Don’t be shy. We are family.”

They bathed together under the shower. Pattamma made her apply soap on her back, and in return, she soaped the new Sangeetha’s body, her hands moving over her heavy breasts, squeezing them slightly, running down her soft belly, and even between her thighs. The new Sangeetha stood there like a statue, tears flowing silently as her mother-in-law’s wrinkled hands touched every intimate part of her body.

After bathing, Pattamma made her dry herself in front of her, then helped her dress. She chose a simple cotton saree for her and personally draped it, adjusting the blouse tightly around her breasts, making sure the pallu showed just enough cleavage “to please the husband.”

The entire process was deeply humiliating. The new Sangeetha felt like an object inspected, touched, and dressed like a doll.

Throughout the week, Pattamma filled the house with poisonous traditional talks.

“A good wife should wake up before her husband. She should serve him food first. She should never argue. Her body belongs to her husband. Her thoughts should only be about his happiness.”

She criticized everything the way the new Sangeetha cooked, how she dressed, how much she talked to neighbours, even how she walked.

“You walk like a boy! Swing your hips properly when you walk in front of your husband!”

The Temple Visit (Day 5)

On the fifth day, Pattamma dragged the entire family to the famous Mariamman Temple.

She made the new Sangeetha perform special rituals for her husband’s long life and prosperity, tying sacred threads, breaking coconuts, doing 108 namaskarams, and even carrying a heavy pot of water on her head while walking around the temple. The new Sangeetha’s breasts ached badly from the physical strain. Sweat poured down her body, making her saree stick to her curves. People stared at the “devout wife” performing rituals for her husband.

Selvam watched with pride. The new Prakash watched with deep sympathy and guilt.

Day 7 - The Marriage Announcement

Today was the worst.

Pattamma sat on the sofa like a queen and made a grand announcement.

“We have a family marriage in Coimbatore next week. My sister’s grandson’s wedding. We are all attending as a family. No excuses.”

Selvam immediately agreed. “Yes, Amma. We will all go.”

The new Sangeetha felt trapped. A big marriage meant relatives, questions, more humiliation in heavy sarees, and constant performance as the “loyal wife.”

After dinner, Selvam told her, “Tomorrow morning we are going shopping. I’ll buy you a new outfit for the marriage. You should look the most beautiful there.”

The new Sangeetha could only nod weakly.

That night, after Pattamma went to sleep in the hall, Selvam entered the bedroom again.

The new Sangeetha had changed into a soft white nighty. She tried to lie down on the far edge of the bed, but Selvam pulled her close. He turned her towards him, face to face. His strong arms wrapped around her soft body. He kissed her deeply on the lips, his tongue pushing inside. His hand roamed freely — squeezing her breasts over the nighty, then sliding down to cup her vagina possessively.

He pressed his hardness against her thigh and whispered, “I want you so badly…”

But after a few minutes of heavy breathing and touching, he stopped again.

“Not yet,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Soon… when you’re ready.”

He turned to his side, keeping one arm tightly around her waist, trapping her against his body.

The new Sangeetha lay there in the darkness, tears flowing silently.

Her body was no longer hers.
Her house was no longer hers.
Her life was no longer hers.

And the worst was yet to come.

Chapter 25: The Marriage Trap

The day of the family marriage arrived like a heavy, inevitable storm.

The new Sangeetha stood completely naked in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The bright tube light above cast harsh shadows on her soft, feminine body. Her heavy 36C breasts hung naturally, slightly swaying with every shaky breath. The dark brown nipples were stiff from the cool morning air. Her soft belly with its faint stretch marks curved gently. Wide hips flared out into thick, smooth thighs. Between her legs, the realistic vagina with its soft outer lips and small patch of pubic hair looked disturbingly natural.

She touched her face her mother’s face with trembling fingers.

“Oh God… why did it become like this?” she whispered, voice cracking.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m supposed to be an 18 year old boy… enjoying life, playing football, teasing friends, worrying about NEET… Not this. Not standing here like a 34-year-old married woman, with breasts, with a vagina, with my own mother’s body…”

She cupped her heavy breasts, feeling their weight spill over her palms. She squeezed them slightly, watching them deform and bounce back. A wave of shame and despair washed over her.

“Fuck… this is really happening.”

She had no choice but to get ready.

Selvam had chosen the outfit for her a sleeveless, deep-neck dark green silk saree**ll with a golden border and a matching sleeveless blouse. Because of the sleeveless design, she had to shave her armpits.

She lathered her underarms with shaving cream, her hands shaking. The razor glided over the soft skin, removing every trace of hair. She felt incredibly vulnerable doing such an intimate feminine task. After rinsing, she applied powder, feeling the smooth, hairless skin.

She began dressing.

First, the black padded bra, she hooked it at the back, adjusting her full breasts into the cups until they sat high and prominent, creating deep cleavage. Then the matching black panty, pulling it up slowly over her thick thighs until it cupped her vagina snugly.

The petticoat came next, tied low on her hips. Then the saree. She draped the rich green silk around her body with great care, pleating it neatly at the front. The pallu was long and heavy. She draped it over her left shoulder, making sure it covered some of her deep cleavage, but the sleeveless blouse left her fair, smooth arms completely exposed.

She sat down and did her makeup — kajal, light lipstick, blush, and a bold bindi. She tied her long hair into an elegant bun and decorated it with fresh jasmine flowers. Finally, she wore the heavy gold jewellery Selvam had given her — long jhumkas, multiple bangles, a thick necklace that rested between her breasts, and anklets.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, a stunning, traditional beauty stared back. The sleeveless blouse showed off her soft arms and the sides of her breasts. The saree clung to her curves perfectly. She looked every bit the desirable, married Tamil woman.

She hated it.

The entire family left for the marriage hall in a hired Innova car. Selvam sat in front with the driver. Pattamma, the new Sangeetha, and the new Prakash sat in the back.

At the wedding hall, the humiliation reached new heights.

Hundreds of relatives most of whom the new Sangeetha had never met were present. Selvam proudly introduced “his wife” to everyone.

“Look how beautiful my wife still is after so many years!” he boasted, keeping his hand possessively on her waist.

Unknown aunts and uncles surrounded her.

“Enna Sangeetha, you’ve maintained yourself so well!”
“Where were you hiding all these years?”
“Selvam is so lucky to have such a beautiful and loyal wife!”

Pattamma made sure to parade her around, introducing her as the “ideal daughter-in-law who waited eight years for her husband.” The new Sangeetha had to smile, adjust her pallu constantly as people stared at her cleavage and arms, and endure comments about her body, her “fertile-looking hips,” and how she should have another child soon.

She felt like a trophy on display.

The new Prakash stayed mostly with the younger crowd, trying to avoid the chaos, but even he felt the pressure of acting like a normal son.

They returned home very late almost 1:30 AM.

The new Sangeetha was completely exhausted. Her feet ached from wearing heels. Her breasts were sore from being confined in the tight blouse all day. Sweat had dried between her cleavage and under her arms.

She was too tired to change.

She simply removed her jewellery, unpinned her pallu, and collapsed onto the bed still wearing the green silk saree and sleeveless blouse.

Selvam entered the room a few minutes later.

He locked the door and lay down beside her. Without saying anything, he turned her towards him and pulled her close. His hard erection pressed firmly against her soft buttocks through the thin layers of the saree and petticoat. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, spooning her tightly.

His hands began roaming.

He slowly massaged her wet, sweaty armpits the smooth, freshly shaved skin still slightly damp. His fingers traced the sensitive area, making her shiver. He kissed the back of her neck, breathing heavily.

“You looked so sexy today in this sleeveless blouse,” he whispered, pressing his hardness harder against her ass. “All those men were staring at you… but you’re mine.”

His hand moved down, cupping one of her heavy breasts over the blouse, squeezing it possessively. He continued grinding against her from behind, his breathing getting rougher.

The new Sangeetha lay there like a statue, tears silently soaking the pillow, feeling every inch of her body being claimed.

She was trapped.

Completely.