Mother of Me

Chapter 16: The First Bleeding

The fourth day of the swap began with the same mechanical routine that was slowly becoming terrifyingly normal for the new Sangeetha.

She woke up at 5:45 AM to the sound of the alarm in her mother’s bedroom. Her heavy breasts ached slightly from sleeping on her side. The light blue nighty had ridden up her thighs again, and she could feel the warm, soft presence between her legs even before opening her eyes. She sat up slowly, one hand instinctively supporting her breasts as they shifted heavily.

After her morning bath, where she once again struggled with the intense sensations of soaping her sensitive nipples and the folds of her vagina, she chose a simple yellow salwar kameez with white floral prints. She wore a fresh white bra that lifted her full breasts firmly, a matching panty, and carefully draped the dupatta over her chest, pinning it tightly.

She braided her long hair, applied sindoor and bindi, and looked at herself in the mirror. A tired but beautiful housewife stared back.

“Only six more days…” she whispered to herself, trying to stay positive.

Meanwhile, the new Prakash was having the time of his life.

Two of Prakash’s friends had come on a bike to pick him up early in the morning. “Da, today we’re going to the new gaming zone in RS Puram, then turf football!” they shouted excitedly.

The new Prakash grinned widely, feeling the freedom in every muscle of his light, energetic male body. “Coming da!” He jumped on the bike without a second thought and zoomed off, laughing loudly. No responsibilities. No heavy chest. No constant clothing adjustments. Just pure joy.

Back at home, the new Sangeetha was deep into her domestic duties.

She swept and mopped the entire house, the anklets chiming rhythmically with every step. She washed the vessels, cleaned the kitchen counter, organized the fridge, watered the plants on the balcony, and folded yesterday’s dried clothes. Her back started aching by 11 AM. Sweat formed between her breasts, making the mangalsutra stick to her skin. The salwar pants felt tight around her thighs, and the dupatta kept slipping no matter how many times she adjusted it.

By afternoon, she was exhausted. She sat on the sofa for a few minutes, legs closed properly like a woman, fanning herself with the end of her dupatta.

That was when the first sharp pain hit her lower abdomen.

“Aah!” she gasped, clutching her stomach. It felt like a dull, twisting cramp deep inside her belly. At first, she thought it was because of the heavy breakfast or the heat. But the pain grew stronger.

She hurried to the bathroom, lifted her salwar and panty, and sat on the toilet.

When she looked down, her heart stopped.

There was blood.

Bright red blood staining her panty and slowly dripping from her vagina.

Her hands began to tremble violently. “What… what is this?!”

Panic surged through her. She quickly cleaned herself with toilet paper, but more blood kept coming. The sight of blood coming from her vagina , her mother’s vagina ,filled her with horror and deep shame.

She rushed out and called Dr. Meera with shaking fingers.

“Ma’am! Something is wrong! There’s blood… coming from down… I’m bleeding!” she said, voice breaking.

Meera’s calm voice came through the phone. “Sangeetha, relax. It’s completely normal. Your body is functioning as expected. Those are periods. The hormonal cycle we programmed is working perfectly. It means the transformation is stable.”

“Periods?!” the new Sangeetha almost shouted. “What am I supposed to do?! It’s painful… and messy!”

“Just use a sanitary napkin, dear. There should be some in the bottom drawer of the cupboard in my, I mean your, room. Change it every few hours. Use a painkiller if the cramps are too strong. This is part of being a woman. You’ll get used to it.”

The call ended.

The new Sangeetha stood there for a long moment, feeling utterly humiliated. She opened the drawer and found only two sanitary napkins left.

Only two?!

She had no choice.

She went back to the bathroom, removed her panty, and tried to stick the sanitary napkin inside. Her hands were clumsy. The pad felt thick and uncomfortable between her legs. She pulled up her panty and adjusted her salwar. The feeling of the bulky pad pressing against her vagina made her want to cry.

But the bleeding continued. She checked again after some time, the pad was already stained heavily. She had no more left.

She had to go buy them.

The new Sangeetha stood in front of the mirror, heart pounding.

She couldn’t ask her son ,he hadn't taken his phone and was still out enjoying himself. There was no other way.

She picked up her mother’s black handbag, slipped on a pair of simple black sandals, adjusted her dupatta tightly over her chest, and stepped out of the house for the first time since the swap.

Every step felt like torture.

The anklets announced her movement loudly. Her breasts bounced slightly with each step. The pad between her legs felt obvious and bulky. She kept one hand on her stomach as mild cramps continued. She walked as fast as she could towards the nearby medical shop, eyes down, cheeks burning with shame.

At the shop, the young male shopkeeper smiled casually. “What do you want, madam?”

The new Sangeetha’s voice came out in a whisper. “Sanitary napkins… Whisper Ultra.”

The shopkeeper casually took a packet and placed it on the counter. She paid quickly, stuffed the packet into her handbag, and almost ran back towards the apartment, feeling as if everyone on the road was staring at her.

While climbing the stairs to her floor, she saw an old woman around 65 years old struggling to carry two heavy bags and climb the steps.

Out of instinct and basic humanity, the new Sangeetha stopped.

“Aunty, let me help you,” she said softly in her mother’s gentle voice.

She took one bag from the old woman and helped her climb. The old lady smiled gratefully.

“Thank you, ma. You are so kind. I’m Meenakshi. We just moved into 3C yesterday. You live here?”

“Yes aunty… I’m Sangeetha. Flat 2A.”

The old woman patted her cheek affectionately. “Such a good daughter in law type. Come to my house sometime. I’ll make filter coffee for you.”

The new Sangeetha smiled weakly, feeling another layer of humiliation. Even strangers were treating her as a typical married woman now.

She helped the old lady to her flat, said a polite goodbye, and finally returned home.

She immediately went to the bathroom, changed the heavily stained pad, and wore a new one. The cramps were still there. She felt bloated, emotional, and deeply uncomfortable.

She sat on the sofa, curled up slightly, holding her stomach.

Her son was still out laughing, playing, enjoying his freedom.

And here she was trapped in her mother’s body, bleeding, wearing a pad, doing household chores, and meeting neighbours as “Sangeetha”.

Tears silently rolled down her cheeks.

This was only Day 4.

And the 10 days were already feeling endless.

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