19-03-2026, 11:39 AM
Auntie's Touch
Scene 86
It was evening now, and the light of the sun was dying as the Rolls Royce purred towards the retreat centre. I was sitting in the back, my body still feeling heavy and hot from the “lunch” we had at Mansi Aunty’s bungalow. I was wearing my silk trousers and a fresh shirt. God Mother sat next to me, her silk saree rustling every time the car hit a bump, her hand resting firmly on my thigh to remind me I was hers and hers alone.
Sunny: “God Mother, will we really see my mom soon? I can feel my heart jumping in my chest.”
God Mother: “Patience, beta. Rina is finishing her healing. She is becoming soft, like a ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. But before that, we have work to do.”
As we reached the gates, I gasped. There were hundreds of people lined up along the driveway, families gathered in the flickering twilight, holding flowers and looking at the car like we were bringing healing to them. They were all waiting for the “Darshan,” for a taste of the Prasad. The driver didn’t stop; we went through the back gate, the VIP entry where the security guards bowed so low their heads almost touched the gravel. We took the lift up to the top floor, the silence of the machine making the tension between the three of us feel like a barrier. When the doors opened, God Mother led me toward a small, private changing room, leaving Mansi Aunty standing in the hallway.
I could see Mansi Aunty’s face before the door closed. She looked desperate, her energy shifting from the teacher I knew to a woman who wanted to be a mother more than she wanted to breathe. She was leaning against the wall, her hands clutching her own chest as if she could feel her natural milk leaking out into her silk saree.
Inside the room, it was cool and smelled like roses. God Mother walked straight to the large mirror, her eyes sharp as she looked at her reflection.
God Mother: “Sunny, beta. I must be perfect before I meet my subjects. But I also need my comforts.”
Without taking her eyes off me in the mirror, she unpinned her saree, letting the silk slide down her body and pool on the carpet like a silver cloud. Then she unfastened her blouse, one button at a time, her large, massive breasts popping out, heavy and already weeping. She reached out and grabbed her own breasts, her hands kneading the soft, white flesh, her dark nipples standing up stiff and swollen.
God Mother: “Oh, Sunny. Just a small taste before I meet families to help them. I need your energy to fill me up.”
She leaned down toward me, her face hovering inches from mine, her breath smelling of raw hunger. I didn’t wait; I took out my tongue and started suckling, my mouth closing around the dark circle of her nipple. The milk was thick, hot, and sweet, rushing down my throat in big, greedy gulps. She was leaking so much it was staining my silk shirt, but she didn’t care.
God Mother: “Now the other one as well, beta. Take it full in your mouth.”
I moved my mouth to the other big breast, my hands wrapping around her waist as I hugged her. She was giving me so much love, her heart thumping against my cheek like a drum. I could feel her body shivering as I drank her powerful, thick nectar. This was the first time I had been with her alone right before she went into public, and the secret felt heavier than ever.
God Mother: “Now the final prasad.”
She pulled my head away, her lips finding mine in a long, deep kiss that tasted like wet and warm. She bit my lower lip as she pulled back, a tiny drop of blood meeting the milk on my chin. Then, she quickly began wearing her new clothes, applying her makeup with practised grace until she looked like a saint again. She took my hand and we went outside to the main hall, where the big throne sat behind heavy golden curtains.
The first family to enter was the Singhs. They were four of them: Mr. Singh, who was about 38 and looked very wealthy in his sharp suit, Mrs. Singh, who was around 36 and beautiful with a round face, and their two daughters, who looked simple and innocent. They looked desperate, the kind of people who have everything but feel like they have nothing. Mr. Singh stepped forward and placed a cheque for 10 lakh rupees on the table, his hands shaking.
Mr. Singh: “Mother, we are here for a blessing. I want a third child… a son to carry my name. But Rupa… she says her body is too tired.”
The curtains closed, sealing the world away and making the room dim and private. God Mother didn’t speak with words at first. She looked at each of the four members, her gaze lingering on the daughters, who were shivering in the heavy silence.
The Prasad offering began with an uninhibited ferocity. God Mother didn’t just bless them; she claimed them. She pulled the daughters toward her first, their eyes wide with a mix of shock and devotion as her lips met theirs, her tongue moving deep into their mouths. They tried to move their heads away at first, their bodies stiff because this was something they were not used to, but God Mother held them by the hair, her touch firm and absolute.
Mrs. Singh watched with a pale face, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she stepped closer, her voice a shaky surrender.
Mrs. Singh: “Complete the prasad. We need the blessing. Do not move.”
Following the mother’s command, the two daughters were guided into God Mother’s lap. I watched as God Mother unfastened her silk blouse again, her enormous breasts spilling out into the girls’ faces. She fed them both, one on each nipple, their mouths forced to accept the rich, creamy nectar of her body. Mr. Singh was sitting on the floor, his face red, his breath coming in jagged gasps as he watched his family being taken over by the source of all love.
Then, God Mother looked at Mrs. Singh, her eyes glowing like embers.
God Mother: “Rupa, the sadness in your womb is because your heart is blocked. You need a cure. You need to let Sunny, standing over there, take the sadness away from you. It will only take two minutes. Everyone, close your eyes.”
The hall went silent as everyone obeyed. I walked forward, my heart thumping against my silk shirt. God Mother reached out and began unbuttoning Mrs. Singh’s blouse, one by one while she was feeding both her daughters - their eyes closed, until the fabric fell away. Mrs. Singh was wearing a brown bra that looked tight against her full, round breasts. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and a low, shaky sigh escaped her lips.
God Mother pushed the brown bra up, exposing the heavy, white skin and the dark, stiff nipples. She looked at me and nodded. We both moved in at once, our wet tongues touching her skin at the same time. For two minutes, we suckled together, God Mother on one nipple and me on the other, our mouths making loud, wet slurping noises in the quiet hall.
Mrs. Singh started making noises, her breathing becoming faster and more ragged. After a few seconds, she wasn’t shivering anymore; she was enjoying it. She reached out and put her hand on my head, her fingers tangling in my hair to pull me closer, pushing her breast deeper into my mouth. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, a fever of desire that was finally being released.
When the time was up, the lady of the house covered herself, her face flushed and her eyes hazy with peace. She bowed low before the throne, her voice a whisper of total devotion. The daughters stood up from God Mother's breasts wiping their lips. God Mother covered her chest.
Mrs. Singh: “Thank you, Mother. The weight is gone. I want a private service. When can I come back?”
God Mother: “Tomorrow at 8 PM. And don’t forget to bring your entire family. The healing is just beginning.”
Mrs. Singh looked at me and gave me a long, deep kiss on my lips, her mouth still tasting warm, before the family left the curtains. The curtains opened, and the sounds of the next family waiting flooded in.
Mansi Aunty was still standing outside the curtain, her eyes fixed on us with a frantic, desperate look. I could see the sweat on her forehead. She didn’t want the bungalow anymore; she wanted the heat of the Project, the chance to have my seed inside her until she was bursting. She was watching the curtains, waiting for her next turn to be “the teacher” in this temple of uninhibited love.
Scene 86
It was evening now, and the light of the sun was dying as the Rolls Royce purred towards the retreat centre. I was sitting in the back, my body still feeling heavy and hot from the “lunch” we had at Mansi Aunty’s bungalow. I was wearing my silk trousers and a fresh shirt. God Mother sat next to me, her silk saree rustling every time the car hit a bump, her hand resting firmly on my thigh to remind me I was hers and hers alone.
Sunny: “God Mother, will we really see my mom soon? I can feel my heart jumping in my chest.”
God Mother: “Patience, beta. Rina is finishing her healing. She is becoming soft, like a ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. But before that, we have work to do.”
As we reached the gates, I gasped. There were hundreds of people lined up along the driveway, families gathered in the flickering twilight, holding flowers and looking at the car like we were bringing healing to them. They were all waiting for the “Darshan,” for a taste of the Prasad. The driver didn’t stop; we went through the back gate, the VIP entry where the security guards bowed so low their heads almost touched the gravel. We took the lift up to the top floor, the silence of the machine making the tension between the three of us feel like a barrier. When the doors opened, God Mother led me toward a small, private changing room, leaving Mansi Aunty standing in the hallway.
I could see Mansi Aunty’s face before the door closed. She looked desperate, her energy shifting from the teacher I knew to a woman who wanted to be a mother more than she wanted to breathe. She was leaning against the wall, her hands clutching her own chest as if she could feel her natural milk leaking out into her silk saree.
Inside the room, it was cool and smelled like roses. God Mother walked straight to the large mirror, her eyes sharp as she looked at her reflection.
God Mother: “Sunny, beta. I must be perfect before I meet my subjects. But I also need my comforts.”
Without taking her eyes off me in the mirror, she unpinned her saree, letting the silk slide down her body and pool on the carpet like a silver cloud. Then she unfastened her blouse, one button at a time, her large, massive breasts popping out, heavy and already weeping. She reached out and grabbed her own breasts, her hands kneading the soft, white flesh, her dark nipples standing up stiff and swollen.
God Mother: “Oh, Sunny. Just a small taste before I meet families to help them. I need your energy to fill me up.”
She leaned down toward me, her face hovering inches from mine, her breath smelling of raw hunger. I didn’t wait; I took out my tongue and started suckling, my mouth closing around the dark circle of her nipple. The milk was thick, hot, and sweet, rushing down my throat in big, greedy gulps. She was leaking so much it was staining my silk shirt, but she didn’t care.
God Mother: “Now the other one as well, beta. Take it full in your mouth.”
I moved my mouth to the other big breast, my hands wrapping around her waist as I hugged her. She was giving me so much love, her heart thumping against my cheek like a drum. I could feel her body shivering as I drank her powerful, thick nectar. This was the first time I had been with her alone right before she went into public, and the secret felt heavier than ever.
God Mother: “Now the final prasad.”
She pulled my head away, her lips finding mine in a long, deep kiss that tasted like wet and warm. She bit my lower lip as she pulled back, a tiny drop of blood meeting the milk on my chin. Then, she quickly began wearing her new clothes, applying her makeup with practised grace until she looked like a saint again. She took my hand and we went outside to the main hall, where the big throne sat behind heavy golden curtains.
The first family to enter was the Singhs. They were four of them: Mr. Singh, who was about 38 and looked very wealthy in his sharp suit, Mrs. Singh, who was around 36 and beautiful with a round face, and their two daughters, who looked simple and innocent. They looked desperate, the kind of people who have everything but feel like they have nothing. Mr. Singh stepped forward and placed a cheque for 10 lakh rupees on the table, his hands shaking.
Mr. Singh: “Mother, we are here for a blessing. I want a third child… a son to carry my name. But Rupa… she says her body is too tired.”
The curtains closed, sealing the world away and making the room dim and private. God Mother didn’t speak with words at first. She looked at each of the four members, her gaze lingering on the daughters, who were shivering in the heavy silence.
The Prasad offering began with an uninhibited ferocity. God Mother didn’t just bless them; she claimed them. She pulled the daughters toward her first, their eyes wide with a mix of shock and devotion as her lips met theirs, her tongue moving deep into their mouths. They tried to move their heads away at first, their bodies stiff because this was something they were not used to, but God Mother held them by the hair, her touch firm and absolute.
Mrs. Singh watched with a pale face, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she stepped closer, her voice a shaky surrender.
Mrs. Singh: “Complete the prasad. We need the blessing. Do not move.”
Following the mother’s command, the two daughters were guided into God Mother’s lap. I watched as God Mother unfastened her silk blouse again, her enormous breasts spilling out into the girls’ faces. She fed them both, one on each nipple, their mouths forced to accept the rich, creamy nectar of her body. Mr. Singh was sitting on the floor, his face red, his breath coming in jagged gasps as he watched his family being taken over by the source of all love.
Then, God Mother looked at Mrs. Singh, her eyes glowing like embers.
God Mother: “Rupa, the sadness in your womb is because your heart is blocked. You need a cure. You need to let Sunny, standing over there, take the sadness away from you. It will only take two minutes. Everyone, close your eyes.”
The hall went silent as everyone obeyed. I walked forward, my heart thumping against my silk shirt. God Mother reached out and began unbuttoning Mrs. Singh’s blouse, one by one while she was feeding both her daughters - their eyes closed, until the fabric fell away. Mrs. Singh was wearing a brown bra that looked tight against her full, round breasts. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and a low, shaky sigh escaped her lips.
God Mother pushed the brown bra up, exposing the heavy, white skin and the dark, stiff nipples. She looked at me and nodded. We both moved in at once, our wet tongues touching her skin at the same time. For two minutes, we suckled together, God Mother on one nipple and me on the other, our mouths making loud, wet slurping noises in the quiet hall.
Mrs. Singh started making noises, her breathing becoming faster and more ragged. After a few seconds, she wasn’t shivering anymore; she was enjoying it. She reached out and put her hand on my head, her fingers tangling in my hair to pull me closer, pushing her breast deeper into my mouth. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, a fever of desire that was finally being released.
When the time was up, the lady of the house covered herself, her face flushed and her eyes hazy with peace. She bowed low before the throne, her voice a whisper of total devotion. The daughters stood up from God Mother's breasts wiping their lips. God Mother covered her chest.
Mrs. Singh: “Thank you, Mother. The weight is gone. I want a private service. When can I come back?”
God Mother: “Tomorrow at 8 PM. And don’t forget to bring your entire family. The healing is just beginning.”
Mrs. Singh looked at me and gave me a long, deep kiss on my lips, her mouth still tasting warm, before the family left the curtains. The curtains opened, and the sounds of the next family waiting flooded in.
Mansi Aunty was still standing outside the curtain, her eyes fixed on us with a frantic, desperate look. I could see the sweat on her forehead. She didn’t want the bungalow anymore; she wanted the heat of the Project, the chance to have my seed inside her until she was bursting. She was watching the curtains, waiting for her next turn to be “the teacher” in this temple of uninhibited love.
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