English · Family
today
I never imagined my life would change so completely in a dusty Rajasthan village. My name is Arjun, but for one fateful week, I became Meera — my younger sister who had eloped the night before Priya’s wedding to Rajesh Thakur. My father and uncles gave me no choice. “You will take her place,” they hissed. “Or our family is ruined.”
The women of the house worked on me for hours that first night. They shaved every inch of my body smooth with turmeric and rose water. My slim frame was laced into a tight, padded choli that created soft, feminine mounds on my chest. Heavy petticoats and a deep maroon bridal ghagra-choli, embroidered with thick gold zari, were tied so tightly around my waist that I could barely breathe. The blouse was scandalously low, exposing my smooth back. They added heavy silver jewelry — necklaces cascading between my fake breasts, jhumkas that tugged at my ears, anklets, and finally, a large, glittering nath (nose ring) hooked through my septum with a delicate chain connecting it to my maang tikka. The weight of it constantly reminded me of my new role. A thick red veil hid my painted face — kohl-lined eyes, crimson lips, and blushing cheeks.
My cock was already half-hard under the layers as the silk rubbed against my smooth thighs.
The rituals began the next day. During the mehndi ceremony, I sat veiled among the women while henna was applied to my hands and feet in intricate bridal patterns. Rajesh’s younger brother, Vikram — tall, muscular like his brother but with sharper, more predatory eyes — kept circling me. “This cousin Meera looks different from what I remember,” he muttered. I lowered my eyes, heart pounding, the nath tugging with every breath.
That night, after the sangeet, Rajesh pulled me into a shadowed corridor of the haveli. His strong hands lifted my veil just enough to claim my painted mouth in a hungry kiss. “There’s something about you, Meera,” he growled against my lips. “It makes me want to ruin you.”
I whimpered as his fingers traced the heavy ghagra. My resistance melted. “Take me,” I whispered, voice muffled by the veil.
He dragged me to his private chamber. The heavy wooden door bolted shut.
“Lift it,” he ordered.
I gathered the massive weight of the ghagra and petticoats, bunching them around my waist. My smooth, hairless ass and leaking cock were exposed. Rajesh freed his thick, veined 8-inch cock, already dripping. He pushed me over the edge of the ornate bed, my heavy jewelry jingling loudly.
He spat on my tight hole and worked two thick fingers inside, stretching me open. I moaned like a whore, pushing back. “Please… deeper.”
A third finger joined, scissoring roughly, brushing my prostate until I was leaking steadily onto the bridal silk. “Such a greedy little gaand,” he laughed darkly.
Then he coated his massive cock with oil and pressed the fat head against my entrance. With one brutal thrust, he buried half his length inside me. I cried out, the burn intense, my nath chain swinging wildly. Rajesh gripped my padded hips and slammed forward, sinking balls-deep into my virgin ass.
“Fuck… so tight,” he groaned. He started pounding me hard and deep, the wet slap of his heavy balls against my ass echoing with the jingle of my anklets and earrings. Every thrust made my fake breasts bounce in the choli and my cock swing uselessly beneath me.
He fucked me for what felt like an eternity — long, powerful strokes that hit my prostate relentlessly. “Imagine if I could breed you properly, Meera. Fill this womb with my seed until your belly swells with my child.” The pregnancy risk talk made me clench around him even tighter, even though I knew it was impossible. The fantasy drove me wild.
I came first, spurting messily onto the ghagra without a single touch. Rajesh roared and flooded my guts with thick, hot cum, pumping rope after rope so deep I could feel my belly warm. He stayed inside me, grinding slowly, making sure every drop stayed in. “Good girl. Keep my seed inside you.”
Over the next few days, the rituals continued while our secret encounters grew filthier.
During the haldi ceremony, turmeric paste was smeared on my body under the veil. Vikram watched me too closely, his gaze burning. Later that afternoon, he cornered me in a storage room. “I know your secret, bhai,” he whispered, grabbing my ghagra and yanking it up. His hand found my hard cock. “But you look so fucking hot like this.”
Before I could protest, Rajesh entered. Instead of anger, a dark smile spread across his face. “You want a taste, little brother?”
That night, after the tilak and more pheras around the sacred fire, the two brothers took me together in Rajesh’s chamber.
They stripped the ghagra partially, leaving the choli, jewelry, and nath in place. I was on my knees first, sucking Rajesh’s thick cock while Vikram pushed into my well-fucked ass from behind. Vikram was slightly smaller but just as eager, pounding me with quick, desperate thrusts. “Your hole is sucking me in, Meera,” he groaned.
They switched. Rajesh bent me over and fucked me long and slow while Vikram fed me his cock. The nath tugged painfully as I deepthroated him. They talked filthy the entire time: “Gonna fill you until you’re dripping. What if our seed takes? Imagine walking around the village with a swollen belly, our child inside you.” The breeding fantasy made me cum twice before they did.
Rajesh came first, flooding my ass again. Vikram pulled out and painted my painted face and the inside of my veil with his load. I was a mess — cum leaking from my stretched, puffy hole, jewelry sticky, ghagra ruined.
The final wedding night was the most intense.
After the official pheras and vidai, I was carried to the flower-decorated bridal chamber as the “bride.” Rajesh and Vikram both joined me once the doors were locked and the village slept.
They took turns for hours.
First, Rajesh laid me on my back, legs wrapped around his waist, ghagra bunched up, nath chain bouncing with every thrust. He fucked me face-to-face, slow and deep, grinding against my prostate. “Take my seed, wife. Get pregnant for me.” I moaned loudly, my own cock spurting between our bodies.
Vikram took me next, on all fours, pounding my already cum-filled ass while Rajesh made me suck him clean. They rotated, using my hole relentlessly. My voice grew hoarse from moaning. Cum leaked constantly from my wrecked, gaping asshole, soaking the bedsheets and my heavy bridal clothes.
At one point they double-penetrated me — Rajesh in my ass and Vikram’s fingers stretching me wider alongside him. The burn and fullness made me see stars. I came hands-free again and again.
By dawn, I was lying in a puddle of their cum, veil torn, nath still proudly in place, my body marked and claimed. My ass throbbed deliciously, overflowing with load after load.
I no longer cared about the deception. Dressed as their veiled bride, leaking their seed and lost in the fantasy of being bred, I had found exactly where I belonged.
Rajesh kissed my forehead. “You are our Meera now.
