Josh groaned as he surfaced from the depths of slumber, every inch of his body leaden with an a strange weakness. He blinked blearily, trying to lift the haze of confusion that blanketed his mind. Was the ceiling always that high… and ornately carved? With great effort, he managed to raise his head, only to freeze in horror at the alien landscape spread before him. Lush carpets, intricately embellished walls, and there, amidst a sea of cushions and rose petals… was himself.
Only, this couldn’t possibly be him, because Josh was a strapping all-American dude, not a doe-eyed Indian damsel drowning in pink silk and gold. Breath coming in panicked gasps, he scrabbled at the luscious folds of his garish outfit, hands reaching bare skin. Bare, smooth, hairless…decidedly FEMININE skin. “What…what happened to me?!” Josh croaked, his voice emerging in at a high pitch that only made his fear grow higher. He pawed at his groin in growing desperation, finding only a smooth mound where his junk should be. “Oh God, oh fuck, it’s gone, it’s all gone!”
The creak of an opening door had Josh’s gaze snapping up… only to be met with the smirking visage of his roommate. But this was not the meek, bookish Akash he knew. No, this Akash radiated a dark, confident energy as his eyes raked over Josh’s trembling form in open appraisal. “Ah, I see my blushing bride has arisen,” Akash purred, stalking closer with predatory intent. “And looking as fetching as ever, my dear Jyoti.”
“J-Jyoti? The fuck are you on about?” Josh stammered, scrambling backwards on the bed. “Did you do this to me!?”
Akash merely tutted, seating himself beside Josh’s slim form. One dark hand reached out to tenderly cup a quivering chin as he leaned in close. “Now now, pet, enough of this foolishness. You know very well that you are Jyoti Rai, my dutiful wife. The woman I took as my own in Bihar last month.” As he said this, Akash’s hand slipped under his skirt, fondling parts that shouldn’t exist but now undeniably did. Nimble fingers then plucked at his aching nipples and stroked his slickening slit as a whimper slipped from Josh’s lips.
“There’s my good girl,” Akash rumbled, satisfaction thick in his voice. “Already so wet and willing for your husband.” His fingertips found the bundle of nerves at the apex of Josh’s folds, flicking it to punctuate his words. “You. Are. My. Wife.” With every word, every shockwave of foreign pleasure radiating from his core, Josh felt his identity fracturing. Memories of frat parties and football practice seemed to recede into the mists, replaced by hazy visions of henna and homemaking. He shook his head violently, desperately trying to stop the conditioning.
“No,” he whimpered, even as his thighs splayed wider in wanton invitation. “I’m not…I can’t be…” But Akash’s lips were on his then, stealing the words from Josh as his hard cock delve inside of him. The feeling was incredible: the stretch of being split open, the incredible sensation of feeling truly FULL for the first time.
From that moment on, every one of Akash’s thrusts drove Josh further from himself. He clung to the vestiges of his manhood even as his womanhood blossomed under his husband’s conquering onslaught. Gasping, writhing, moaning like a bitch in heat as his cervix was battered and his cultural cherries popped one by one. Soon, Josh became little more than a rapidly dimming echo, lost in the chorus of Jyoti and wife and Yours, only yours. When Akash finally flooded his womb with his seed, a sowing his ownership, something deep inside Josh… broke. Or perhaps healed. He felt himself surrender to serving the man who had reshaped him so profoundly.
“Mere pati dev, meraa swami,” Jyoti whispered, a prayer and a promise wrapped in one tremulous exhalation. She was home.
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