This story is dark and filled with some obscene content. So it is not for everyone. If you don't like forced domination sex. Don't read.

DISCLAIMER: THE BELOW STORY IS BASED ON ONE OF THE REAL EXPERIENCE OF SOME PEOPLE. BUT TO RESPECT THEIR PRIVACY THE NAME PLACE ARE CHANGED. ALL CHARACTERS DEPICTED ARE OF 18+ .

AND THIS CAN BE DISTURBING FOR SOME Readers. SO IF YOU DON'T LIKE BLOOD, FORCED, DOMINATION ETC. Please don't read. And still if you are agreeing to read please give rating in comments.

The old mango tree in our backyard finally gave up its last fruit, a stubborn green orb that plummeted onto Papa’s newspaper with a wet thud. He sighed, ink smearing his thumb, while Jyoti giggled behind her physics textbook—her favorite shield against chores.

Outside, Kochi’s monsoon humidity clung like a second skin, amplifying the scent of turmeric tea drifting from the kitchen. I traced condensation trails on the windowpane, ignoring the tightness of my blouse against my chest. Across the room, Jyoti shifted uncomfortably, her textbook slipping to reveal the straining buttons of her school uniform. "Stop staring, Didi," she mumbled, pulling her dupatta higher. I flicked a tamarind seed at her. "Blame genetics, not me."

"I am jealous of your curves, honestly," I said, watching Jyoti adjust her dupatta again. Her uniform blouse gaped between buttons, revealing smooth skin and the swell of breasts that made even the neighbor aunties whisper. At seventeen, she carried her body like an accident—shoulders hunched, steps hurried—but that fullness in her hips and chest was pure Gupta genetics. Our mother called it "bountiful," but I knew the stares it earned her at the bus stop.