Jason bit back a groan as unfamiliar hands draped him in silk and jewels, his skin feverish beneath the unfamiliar fabrics. He’d been so eager when Priyanka pulled him into the private room, thinking he’d finally get a taste of that lush body. But instead he found himself dolled up like the prize in some foreign lottery. The incense was making him dizzy, his thoughts sluggish and strange. “Wh-what are you doing?” he slurred as Priyanka guided him to kneel before the altar.
“Shh, we’re making you pure,” she whispered, dark eyes glinting. “It won’t take long, just relax.” The first splash of cool water made him gasp, his nipples peaking beneath sodden silk. With each additional ritualistic pour, his mind became fuzzier, his body hotter. He panted as the sensation built, water (or was it sweat?) trickling between his trembling thighs. He squeezed his eyes shut, lost in the soft tones of Priyanka’s chanting. As the foreign words went round and round his head, they almost started to make sense…
His train of thought shattered as his untouched cock suddenly hardened and spasmed. “Oh fuck, what’s happening!” He cried out as his body suddenly let go, jets of cum soaking the inside of the sari he had been pushed into wearing. He moaned, back arching as pulse after pulse wracked his body. But instead of relief, each spurt just stoked a growing ache. His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring down at tits – honest to god tits, heaving against his. Or… her? Her sari. The thought radiated through his brain. She was the bride. She always had been the bride.
Jason moaned as hot honey dripped from her virgin pussy, a pulsing void that screamed to be filled. How could she ever have thought she was anything else? That pathetic white man was just a distant bad dream, burned away by the sun of her glorious womanhood. This was her destiny – to have her body and mind hammered into the perfect mold on her wedding day, reshaped into the ideal Indian wife.
“P-please,” the new woman whimpered, grinding her sodden crotch against the floor. “I’m so empty!”
“Don’t worry, our precious Shapna,” Priyanka said, draping the final veil over her shaking shoulders. “Your husband will be filling you soon enough. And putting an heir in this virgin womb!”
Shapna smiled wide at the promise of it and at the images flooding her overstimulated mind. Yes, that’s what she needed, what she craved. Rajesh’s cock pumping her full, his seed taking root in her ripe young belly. Maybe even as the reception was still in full swing, so everyone could see how well he claimed his obedient bride. The thought made her clench with need, her body’s true purpose crystallizing like a diamond.
“Just you wait,” Priyanka tittered, tucking a lock of hair behind Shapna’s ear. “A good wife’s pleasure comes from serving her man. And you’ll serve Rajesh in every way, won’t you?” A shock of bliss arced through Shapna at the words, her untried snatch seizing in a mini-orgasm. Yes, that was her role, the only one that mattered anymore. Not some foolish white boy, but an eager, fertile Indian housewife, drenched and dreaming of the marital bed!
“Yes,” she breathed, eyes glassy with desire. “Oh god yes!”
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