Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

The shower's rhythm and her humming filled the room, tugging at his nerves. He glanced at the bathroom door, unlocked, ajar, a sliver of steam curling out, and his feet moved before his mind could stop them.

He nudged it wider, eyes locking on the glass shower, mist blurred her form, but he caught her outline, curves swaying, wet skin glistening under soap suds, her hair a foamy cascade. 



She was oblivious, eyes closed, lost in her song.

Abhi took two steps closer, the air thick with heat and her scent, before Ishaan's voice barked in his skull: "No distractions."

He froze, heart slamming, and backed off, easing the door shut with a shaky hand. Turning to the wardrobe, he worked fast, quietly yanking sarees, blouses, office wear, inners into a bag, her clothes soft and intimate against his fingers.

He left a single saree and blouse, new, slightly sheer, a gift from Ishaan's twisted game. alongside a face mask Ishaan had slipped him last night, its dark design resembling DevilzMask's Instagram display picture.

His legs brushed her nightie on the floor; he hesitated, then stuffed it in too after sniffing her used inners.

Moving to the windows, he slid them open slow and silent, a breeze slipping in, then darted back to the door, locking it behind him, bag slung over his shoulder.

[Steel]

Madhuri stepped out of the shower, towel clinging to her damp skin, hair dripping. She froze, her wardrobe gaped empty, save for the strange, unfamiliar cloth and a mask that's staring back at her.

She took a closer look at the mask and her stomach dropped. The windows yawned wide, curtains fluttering. "What the, " she gasped, rushing to shut them, her hands trembling as she grabbed her phone and fired off a furious text to DevilzMask: "Who the hell do you think you are? You were HERE?"

His reply came swift, "That humming, Madhuri... so pleasant to ears, like a siren calling me to join you in the shower. Took a bit longer, didn't you? Bet you feel like all your sins have been washed away."

Her eyes widened, he'd been in her room, the realization sinking claws into her. She checked the vanity, jewelry untouched, glinting mockingly. No theft, just... her clothes. A weird sensation twisted in her gut, not fear, not quite anger, but something hotter, murkier. He didn't want money, he wanted her, and she knew it.

"You sick bastard, invading my room, stealing my clothes? This is too far!" she texted, trying to muster rage, but her fingers shook with a thrill she couldn't name.

[Steel]

His reply came cool, taunting: "Don't worry, gorgeous, I left you something pretty. Wear it. You'll look divine."


She glared at the saree, fabric slightly transparent, blouse thin enough to hint at what lay beneath.

"Pervert," she muttered, but her eyes lingered, torn.

She rushed to a hidden drawer in the wardrobe, "Thank G0d," a few bras and panties remained.

Relief washed over her, shaky and brief. She could've asked a neighbor for clothes, aired her shame, but pride, or something darker, kept her silent.

Hesitant, she slipped on the bra and panties, then the saree, its translucence whispering against her skin. Up close, anyone could see the faint outline beneath if they looked hard enough.

She stared in the mirror, cheeks burning, vulnerable, exposed, yet oddly alive.

She grabbed her phone, texting her boss: "Need a few days off, family emergency." Then ordered clothes online, fingers trembling, cursing the wait, knowing she couldn't step out like this. Not yet.

Wednesday noon crept up slow and heavy, the house silent save for Madhuri's racing thoughts. She paced her locked room, the sheer saree clinging to her skin, its translucence a constant taunt.

Abhi would need lunch soon, she couldn't order out, not when she'd always prided herself on feeding him healthy, home-cooked meals. But stepping out like this? Her mind churned for solutions, dbang a shawl, borrow something, anything, but time slipped away, but couldn't find any. With a shaky breath, she unlocked the door, the latch clicking like a gunshot in her ears.

[Steel]

She tiptoed down the stairs, bare feet silent on the cool wood, clutching the saree's pallu to shield herself. Voices hit her, Ishaan's loud, brash tone cutting through Abhi's quieter mumbles.

Her stomach lurched; "Is Ishaan here?" She froze mid-step, heart hammering, then darted toward the kitchen, hoping to slip by unnoticed. But Ishaan's head snapped up, catching her shadow like a hawk.

"Hey, aunty!" he called, voice warm but edged with something sly. "Looking sneaky today!"

Madhuri flinched, forcing a tight smile. "Hey, hey, Ishaan... Abhi, lunch'll be ready soon, just wait a bit," she stammered, tugging the saree tighter around her chest, her arms crossing to hide the faint outlines beneath. She hurried past, head down.

Ishaan grinned, leaning back. "That saree's a killer, aunty, fits you like it was made for you. Right, Abhi?" His eyes flicked to Abhi, who trembled, nodding fast, his gaze fixed on the floor, too scared to meet hers.

"Ya, yeah, Maa... its nice," Abhi muttered, his voice barely audible, fear and guilt twisting in his chest.

Ishaan stood, stretching lazily. "I'll help you in the kitchen, aunty, can't let you do all the work."

"No, no!" Madhuri stumbled over her words, panic flaring. "I'm fine, really, stay there!" She imagined him closer, his sharp eyes tracing the thin fabric, seeing too much, and her cheeks burned as she rushed into the kitchen, heart hammering.

[Steel]

She grabbed a pan, hands shaking as she tossed vegetables in, desperate to finish fast. But Ishaan sauntered in, interrupting her frantic rhythm, his presence filling the space.

"Had a cricket match this morning, Aunty," he started, voice smooth and flirtatious. 

"I was swinging hard out there, kept the team on their toes. You'd have liked watching me move." He tossed an apple up, catching it mid-air, his gaze sliding over her back as she chopped onions, the saree's faint sheen revealing soft skin beneath.

Madhuri's breath hitched, his charm disarming her despite herself. "That's... nice, Ishaan," she managed, trying to shut it down, but he stepped closer, the apple arcing again, his eyes lingering where the fabric hugged her hips. 

She fumbled for a dish towel, dbanging it over her hips, a flimsy shield against his stare, but it slipped, leaving her helpless as she stirred the pot.

He edged nearer, close enough to see the faint outline of her bra strap through the blouse. "Damn it, Abhi," he cursed inwardly, realizing some inners had escaped the purge.

Still, he smirked, leaning in. "You're a natural in here, aunty, everything you touch turns hot." His voice dipped, suggestive, and her spine stiffened, heat flooding her face.

[Steel]

She finished the curry quickly, spinning around to snatch the apple from his hand. "Go wash up, lunch is ready," she said, firm but flustered, nudging him toward the door.

Ishaan smirked wider. "Oh, my hands are dirty, been handling all kinds of things today." The double meaning hung thick, and he sauntered out, leaving her breathless.

In the living room, he smacked Abhi's head lightly, hissing, "You didn't empty the closet, idiot, almost blew it." Abhi winced, rubbing his scalp, guilt gnawing deeper as Madhuri emerged with plates.

She served the boys, their eyes tracking her, Abhi's stolen glances catching the bra's outline, the curve of her panties shaping her meaty folds through the saree as she neared him.

He savored it secretly, struggling to see her semi naked body, doing his best to imagine her without the saree, shame twisting with a dark thrill. Ishaan stared openly, casual and bold, and she caught him, her embarrassment surging as his grin widened.

She packed a small bowl of food, muttered, "Eat well, there're some parottas in the kitchen for dinner, have some work to do.. Don't forget to lock the doors before heading to bed Abhi" and fled upstairs, locking her door with a trembling hand, her chest tight with humiliation.

[Steel]

Back in her room, her phone buzzed, DevilzMask: "How's your day going, gorgeous?" Her fingers hovered, then typed, "I'm so embarrassed. Ishaan, my son's friend, wouldn't stop staring. Please end it."


His reply came fast, flirty and unrepentant: "I don’t blame him. How can guys stop staring at a woman like you wearing that?" She read it, Ishaan's kitchen antics, his bold gaze, had stirred something she didn't want to feel. It felt good. 

"Hold on to it, more's coming soon." he texted, a spark of thrill igniting in her despite her shame

She shook her head, shoving the phone aside, and ate her food, opening her laptop to bury herself in work.

Evening crept in, and her phone buzzed again, a thirst trap, his shirtless frame taut and teasing. She didn't reply, just stared, thoughts tangling around him, but forced her eyes to screen preparing her presentation.

Another buzz: "Remember how desperate you sounded on those calls? Bet you're aching for it now." 

She bit her lip, heat pooling low, his voice, his games, until Ramesh's message popped up: "How's office today?" She snapped out of it, typed a curt "It's fine... was a little busy today," and crawled into bed, sleep pulling her under with a restless edge, staring at the closed window.

Madhuri drifted into sleep early, the stalker's dark secrets replaying in her mind, whispers of control, shame, and need that now clicked into place. 

She saw herself in them, trapped in his web, and fought to push it all away, curling tighter under the sheets. Rest eluded her, her body restless with echoes of his voice.

She clenched her eyes shut, willing sleep to take her, but the memories clung like damp heat.

[Steel]

Downstairs, Abhi lay awake, his pulse racing. Her image burned in his mind, her saree clinging to her curves, the bra straps peeking through, the faint outline of her panties hugging her thick thighs.


His imagination spiraled, dark and vivid: the times he'd slipped into her room, fingers brushing her clothes, the stolen whiff of her used panties while the shower hissed in the background.

Shame gnawed at him, but the thrill pulsed stronger. He grabbed his phone, hands trembling, and texted Ishaan: "What's next?" Fear laced every word.

Ishaan's reply buzzed back fast, a cackle, "Well, well, look who's turning into a little freak for his sweet mommy." The mockery stung, sharp and relentless.

"Your screw-up yesterday left her half-covered, but don't worry, I've got a plan. She'll strip those inners off herself. Be ready tomorrow morning. I'll be at your door early." 

Abhi's stomach twisted, guilt flooding in as he pictured Ishaan's sneer, but he couldn't stop now.

[Steel]

Morning broke, gray and quiet. Ishaan slipped by Abhi's house before the sun fully rose, his grin wicked as he handed over a small vial of clear gel. "This'll crank her up, healthy stuff, don't worry. Spread it on her panties. She won't know what hit her."

Abhi's hands shook as he took it, the plan sinking in, Ishaan's bullying loomed like a shadow, and he nodded, too scared to back out. Ishaan left with a laugh, and Abhi stood there, heart pounding.

Upstairs, Madhuri stirred, her dreams fading into the dull ache of reality. She shuffled to her wardrobe, half-hoping the stalker had slipped her clothes back, some twisted gift, but it was empty of his touch.

With a sigh, she shed her saree, her blouse, her panties, everything pooling on the bed. She grabbed a towel, glaring at the locked window as she headed to the bathroom, the shower's steam a brief escape.

Abhi crept in again, quieter than before, the spare key cold in his hand. Ishaan's plan pulsed in his skull. He edged toward her bed, her discarded panties lying there like a dare.

His fingers fumbled with the vial, popping it open, and he smeared the gel along the crotch, thin, even, invisible. His breath hitched; "What am I even doing?" he couldn't believe how he is playing Ishaan's puppet, but his voice drowned out Abhi's conscience.

He pocketed the vial, darted to the window, locked tight from last night, and froze as the shower cut off. Hearing footsteps, he bolted, slipping out just as the bathroom door creaked open.

[Steel]

Madhuri stepped out, towel clutched tight, her eyes darting to the window. She'd heard something, a scbang, a shuffle, but the room was still, her clothes untouched. She peeked through the window, but saw nothing.

Disappointment flickered; she imagined confronting him, her shy voice cracking under the weight of it, yet part of her craved the clash.

She dressed again, sliding the panties on, sticky, warm against her skin. "Last night's fault," she thought, brushing it off.

In the mirror, her reflection stared back, serene at first. Then it hit, her shyness melting, a slow burn spreading through her. The gel was waking up.

Abhi slumped in the living room, his escape too close, his breath still ragged. Her door clicked open, and she descended, radiant, her face glowing, her saree clinging tighter as she moved.

He stole glances, her thighs sharper through the fabric. His excitement coiled, dark and secret. "G.. Good morning maa.. work done?" he mumbled, forcing normalcy.

"Yes, all done," she chirped, her mood electric.

She scanned the room. "Where's Ishaan?" Abhi's eyes traced her, the panties molding to her ass as she walks by, the transparency bolder now, her curves free and unhindered. He froze, lost in it.

"I am talking to you, Abhi," she asked again, sharper, searching for him everywhere. 

"He.. hasn't come today, maa.. Told he was busy" he stammered, snapping back.

[Steel]

Her face fell, a flicker of disappointment breaking through. "Oh... I see," She straightened and murmured trying to play the mother, but the gel hummed louder in her veins, tugging at her edges.

She turned, climbing the stairs, her hips swaying with a new looseness. Abhi watched, transfixed, shame and desire warring inside him.

In her room, she locked the door, grabbed her phone, and fired off a text to DevilzMask: "I'm stuck in here all day because of you."

Ishaan stood in Ms. Sherley's balcony across the town. His reply buzzed back, teasing, unrelenting: "I know what you'd do if you went out, gorgeous."

She bristled, caught, but her pride wouldn't bend. He pushed harder: "Bet you're squirming already." The gel surged, her body heating, her thoughts tangling around him, his voice, his games.

Lust crept in, slow and thick, pulling her under his grip.

Madhuri sat locked in her room, the air heavy with her own heartbeat. His words, DevilzMask's taunts, swirled in her head, every memory of his voice, his boldness, crashing together like a fever dream.

[Steel]

Her phone buzzed again, and she snatched it up, her fingers trembling. Another thirst trap: his shirtless torso, sweat gleaming on tight muscle, a smirk just out of frame.

Her breath caught. She wanted him, badly. She pressed her thighs together, fighting it, but the gel pulsed in her blood, unraveling her control.

His next text popped up: "Send me a pic in that saree. You know I've been dying to see it." Her heart thudded, a mix of shame and thrill.

She stood, swaying to the mirror, the saree clinging to her like a second skin, her bra straps sharp, her panties tracing every curve.

She angled the phone, pouted her lips soft and needy, and snapped the shot. Her transparent body stared back from the screen, vulnerable, daring. She hit send before she could think twice.

Ishaan, sprawled on his bed, grinned wide as the photo loaded. "Oh, damn," he muttered, saving it to his stash. His fingers flew: "Look at you, mommy, too hot to handle."

He leaned into it, typing fast. "Wanna peel that dress off completely."

Madhuri's phone buzzed, and she bit her lip looking at the word "mommy", someone younger, more bolder than her, heat flooding her cheeks. "Stop calling me that," she typed back.

She waited for his reply but couldn't wait any longer. Her thumbs betrayed her. "Hey Stalker? are you there? Listen, I want to see you again... naked," she typed, hesitating, then sent.

A few more minutes later, "I need that feeling back, the one you took away last time." Her words spilled out, raw and desperate. "Please, I'm begging you."

[Steel]

Ishaan chuckled, low and dark. "Begging already? Love that." He paused, letting her squirm, then texted: "Alright, gorgeous. How about a dare?"

She gasped, the word dare hanging in the air like a spark. "What's he up to now?" she murmured, her voice shaky with suspense. "What dare?" she replied, her pulse racing.

He fired back: "You'll see. Something to make you scream my name." Her eyes widened, her body tingling as she imagined it.

"Oh G0d, what is going to be?" she breathed, but the gel hummed louder, drowning her doubts. She stared at the screen, waiting, hooked.

Downstairs, Abhi paced the living room, his own guilt gnawing at him. He'd seen her earlier, her glow, her sway, and it twisted something deep inside.

He didn't know she was upstairs, unraveling for Ishaan, but he felt the pull, the dark thread tying them all together.

His phone stayed silent; Ishaan hadn't texted him back. He sank onto the couch, restless, trapped in his own spiral.

Madhuri's room was a cage now, her breath shallow as she clutched the phone. "Come on, tell me," she whispered, the wait clawing at her.

Another buzz: "Patience, mommy. It's gonna be worth it." She groaned softly, her resistance crumbling, the dare looming like a promise she couldn't refuse.

[Steel]

Madhuri's phone buzzed in her hand, the screen glowing with his reply: "Go to the terrace. Walk to the end, into the store room. You'll see a bag there, take off your bra and panties, drop them in, and walk back without them."

Her jaw dropped, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. "No way," she whispered, her heart slamming against her ribs. "The terrace? In broad daylight?" The neighbors' windows loomed in her mind, eyes she couldn't see but could feel.

She typed fast, fingers shaky: "Please, don't make me do this. Everyone will see!", her plea hung there, desperate.

His response came quick, smooth as silk: "Come on, Madhuri, you want that orgasm, don't you? Trust me, no one's looking. It's just you and me."

She stared at the words, her breath hitching. "He's crazy," she muttered, but the gel thrummed in her veins, tugging at her resolve.

"Please, something else," she texted, bargaining. "Anything but this."

He shot back: "This is it, gorgeous. You want to feel it? Then do it." Back and forth they went, her protests weakening, his coaxing relentless.

Finally, she caved, a shaky Okay slipping from her thumbs. "G0d, what am I doing?" she breathed, setting the phone down.

[Steel]

She cracked her bedroom door, peering out. Abhi's voice drifted faintly from the living room, safe, distracted. She slipped out, her saree swishing soft against her legs, and crept upstairs. 

The terrace door loomed ahead, sunlight spilling through the cracks.

She pushed it open, stepping into the glare, and froze. The brightness hit her like a spotlight, her skin faintly visible through the thin fabric, bra straps, panty lines, all teasing the edges. 

Her hands flew, clutching the saree over her chest and hips, a flimsy shield against the open air.

She shuffled forward, head low, the neighbors' houses towering around her. Every window felt like a stare, every rustle a gasp.

She reached the store room at the end of terrace, ducking inside, her breath ragged. The bag sat there, plain and waiting. Her fingers hesitated at her blouse, trembling as she unhooked her bra, sliding it off. The panties followed, the gel's sticky warmth lingering as she dropped them in. 

She stood there, bare beneath the saree, the fabric clinging to her unprotected curves.

Her phone buzzed, jolting her. "Don't cover yourself," he texted. "Walk back slow, free, like no one's watching." She gaped at the screen, a flush creeping up her neck.

[Steel]

"He's insane," she hissed, but his command sank in, daring her. shoved the terrace door open, frustration boiling over as she stepped back into the blinding sunlight. 

Her bare skin prickled beneath the saree, no bra, no panties, just the thin fabric brushing her raw curves.

Her arms twitched, itching to shield herself, but she forced them down, shoulders stiff. Each step felt eternal, slow, exposed, the breeze brushing where fabric met flesh.

She knew the neighbors could see her, their windows like silent judges. Her shapes weren't crystal clear, but the hint of her body, soft, unguarded, tightened her nipples against the cloth. 

"Why does this feel... good?" she muttered, confused, a flush creeping up her chest.

The idea of being watched publicly sparking something wild, a fantasy she didn't know slept inside her.

[Steel]

Downstairs, Abhi glanced up from the couch, oblivious, his own tension simmering. He didn't hear her soft footsteps overhead, didn't see the way the sunlight caught her silhouette.

Madhuri's heart pounded, her body a live wire, shame and thrill twisting tighter with every move. She reached the door, slipping back inside, her chest heaving. Her phone buzzed again, but she didn't look yet. She just stood there, leaning against a wall, trembling, caught in the rush of what she'd done.

Madhuri's mind spun, someone forcing her to walk semi-naked in public, exposed, helpless. The thought sent a shiver through her, her emotions surging, hard to rein in. She shook her head hard. 

"This isn't real, it's a dream," she whispered, forcing herself back to reality, her feet dragging toward the stairs. She needed her room, her lock, her safety.

Halfway down, she froze. Abhi stood there, mid-step, his eyes wide with shock. 

He'd been in her room, restless, no word from Ishaan, he'd gone looking for her. Finding nothing, he'd shut her door and started back, only to crash into her now.

[Steel]

Time stopped, both of them caught, her desperate to hide her nakedness beneath the saree, him scrambling for an excuse to escape.

"Abhi?" Her voice cracked, high and tight, as she yanked the pallu higher, shielding her hardened nipples.

"What's wrong, sweetie? You look so tense." She forced a casual tone, her eyes locked on his face, praying he wouldn't glance down.

He stared back, fear and thrill flickering in his gaze, words tripping over themselves.

"I-I..." His peripheral vision betrayed him, her bare silhouette, the saree clinging where inners should've been.

He stepped closer, unthinking, drawn in, his breath shallow. "I was... uh..."

She cut in, desperate to keep his eyes up. "Were you looking for me?" Her hands fumbled, adjusting the fabric, pretending normalcy even as her heart raced.

"Ye-yes... I mean, no, I..." He swallowed hard, his mind blanking.

She was different, off, unguarded, and he felt it, the shift in her. His body moved before his brain caught up, closing the gap.

Madhuri's pulse spiked as he neared, her arms twitching to cover more. "Do you need any help, sweetie?" she pressed, her voice softer now, maternal instinct kicking in despite her panic.

She clocked his tension, mistaking it for something innocent.

[Steel]

"Help? Uh, ye-yeah, help..." He latched onto the lifeline, scrambling. "There's a spider in my room! I freaked out and ran, I came to find you." His eyes stayed glued to her face, but the edges of his vision screamed the transparent truth.


She blinked, relief mixing with disbelief. "A spider?" She tilted her head, softening. "Oh, Abhi, you're 18.. still scared of those little things?" She tried to smile, to play the doting mom, even as her own nerves jangled.

"Yeah, you know I hate them," he mumbled, forcing the lie deeper.

"Please, Maa, do something." He couldn't look away, but he couldn't look down either, not when she is watching him, hints of her body teased his senses, Ishaan's plan pulsing in his skull.

He knew it worked. "Come with me, I'll show you," he blurted, turning fast, beckoning her downstairs.

Madhuri hesitated, her every instinct screaming to bolt to her room and lock the door. But he was trembling, her eighteen-year-old son, afraid of a harmless spider, and she couldn't say no.

"Alright, let's go," she sighed, trailing him reluctantly, the saree swaying against her bare skin with every step. Her mind churned, torn between shielding herself and soothing him, oblivious to the darker current pulling them both.

[Steel]

Madhuri stepped into Abhi's room, her bare skin prickling beneath the saree as she waved him back. "Wait outside by the door, okay? Let me handle this," she said, her voice firm but shaky, desperate to keep him at a distance.

The room was a mess, books strewn across the floor, bedsheets crumpled in a heap. She clicked her tongue, scanning for the spider. "Abhi, you need to clean this place properly, it's a jungle in here."

She bent low, brushing aside a pile of clothes, when her fingers grazed a notebook tucked under the bed. Curiosity tugged at her; she flipped it open.

There, in his messy scrawl: Mom with a little heart doodled beside it. Her breath caught, a soft warmth blooming in her chest. "Aww, Abhi," she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. "You're such a sweet boy." She started to turn the pages, her heart swelling with his quiet affection.

Abhi, hovering near the door, caught her words, and the notebook in her hands. His stomach lurched. "Oh no," he hissed under his breath. Those pages held more, sketches, secrets, things she shouldn't see. "Maa, look!" he blurted, pointing wildly. "There's a cobweb, up by the AC!"

She paused, glancing over her shoulder, the notebook still in hand. "Where?" she asked, setting it down half-open, her focus shifting.

Abhi's pulse hammered; he'd dodged a bullet, but only just. She stepped toward the AC, squinting up at the faint web dangling high above. "It's too high," she muttered, brushing her hands on her saree.

"Here, use this," Abhi said quick, dragging a ladder over. "Step up, I'll hold it." He shoved it into place, his voice tight with urgency.

Madhuri hesitated, eyeing him. "No, you go back, it's a spider, you'll freak out. I'll manage." She waved him off, her tone softening despite her nerves.