11 hours ago
(This post was last modified: 11 hours ago by adams_masala. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 52: Selvam's Chest is Hairy
Scene 1
The morning started before the sun was up. Selvam heard the water heater click on, the soft slap of pool water against the tiles outside, and the muffled thump of footsteps on the kitchen floor. He rolled out of bed, careful not to let the mattress squeak, and pulled on the same cotton shorts he’d slept in. The house was cold and bright, light leaking in through the high windows and painting everything in gray.
He heard voices in the kitchen. The new house had thin walls and hard surfaces, every sound bouncing from room to room. Selvam paused in the hallway, listening.
Vanitha was at the counter, making coffee in the American drip machine. She stood on tiptoe, pushing a canister to the back of the shelf, her long hair bundled up in a messy bun. She wore loose gym shorts and a tank top, and her bare arms and shoulders shivered a little in the chill. Ashok sat at the counter, rubbing his eyes and scrolling through his phone, a look of deep concentration on his face.
They sounded happy. There was the clatter of mugs, the small thump of elbows on granite, and then Ashok’s voice, sleepy and soft, “I’m sorry about last night, ma.”
Vanitha paused, coffee scoop in hand. “Sorry for what?” she asked, not looking at him.
“For… you know.” Ashok gave a weak smile. “I tried to hold back, but you’re too good.”
Vanitha glanced over her shoulder, checking the hallway. “It’s okay, da. You didn’t finish inside. That’s what matters.”
Ashok’s smile faded. “I still feel bad. Sometimes I forget you don’t want to get pregnant, or have a baby the normal way. We have Latha for that.”
Vanitha laughed, quick and low. “I don’t want to mess up my stomach, that’s all. I like how it looks now. If I get pregnant, I lose everything.”
Ashok shook his head. “You’d still look perfect, even if you gained ten kilos.”
She poked him with the coffee scoop, a smudge of grounds on his forearm. “You say that now, but if I turned into a balloon, you’d run away to the gym forever.”
Ashok laughed, rubbing at the brown spot on his skin. “No way. You think too much.”
Vanitha leaned on the counter, staring straight at him. “Thanks for not cumming inside me.”
Ashok looked up at her, eyes wide. “I would never. You know that.”
They were silent for a second, just the hum of the fridge and the faint beep of someone’s phone in the background.
Selvam stood at the edge of the hallway, just out of sight, his body frozen in place. The words hit him hard, as if someone had flicked his ear. “Thanks for not cumming inside me.” He had never heard Vanitha say anything like that before. He knew, of course, that Ashok and Vanitha slept together—they were married, after all—but hearing it this way, so blunt and final, made his chest ache.
He let himself imagine it for a second: Vanitha on her back, Ashok on top of her, both of them panting and sweating in the dark. He pictured the way she’d arch her back, the way she might dig her nails into Ashok’s arms, the way her voice would break when she moaned. He hated the image, but it wouldn’t leave. It stayed, sticky and raw.
He thought about his own hands on her hips, the way she’d clenched around him, the way her hair had spread out over his pillow, the sound she made when he came inside her. The memory was perfect and sharp, and for a moment he felt a surge of pride… she hadn’t let Ashok finish inside, but she’d let Selvam. She’d wanted Selvam’s cum, wanted to feel it leak out and run down her thigh, wanted to carry his seed even if she never got pregnant from it.
He felt sick with himself, a twisted satisfaction fighting with the shame.
The kitchen went quiet. He heard Vanitha’s voice, softer now, “I just don’t want to take any chances. Not until the thing with Latha is settled.”
Ashok said, “It’s your body. You decide.”
Vanitha’s voice was clear and steady. “I don’t want to be like those other women. I don’t want to look like Amma did after she had three kids. I want to stay tight and slim. I want to wear sarees low and have everyone stare at my waist. That’s what I worked for. And it’s important for my career”
Ashok gave a small, proud laugh. “You will. Everyone will stare. And I know you will do great things with your saree boutique dream.”
Selvam didn’t know if he should enter the kitchen or go back to bed. He felt like an intruder, like a thief who’d been caught in the act. He hated Ashok in that moment… hated his easy confidence, his simple love for Vanitha, his total ignorance of what had happened in the house back in India. He hated Vanitha too, a little, for being so honest, for saying things he wished he could forget.
He tried to remember the last time he’d felt so alone.
After a while, he took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen. He kept his eyes on the floor, but Vanitha saw him right away. She smiled, bright and fake, “Good morning, mama. Want coffee?”
He grunted. “Black, please.”
Ashok turned in his chair, giving Selvam a lazy wave. “Morning, Appa.”
Selvam nodded, moving to the far side of the island. He sat down, folding his arms over his bare chest, and stared at the granite. He could feel the heat of Vanitha’s body as she poured him coffee, the soft brush of her hand as she set the mug down.
Ashok talked about his plans for the day, some conference call and a trip to the gym, but Selvam barely heard him. He watched Vanitha move around the kitchen, every motion crisp and controlled. She was beautiful, even in the dim light. He couldn’t stop watching her.
She never looked back at him, not once.
Ashok finished his coffee and got up, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m going for a run,” he said, already heading to the stairs. “See you later, Vani.”
Vanitha nodded. “Have fun, da.”
When Ashok left, the kitchen went silent again. Selvam sipped his coffee, staring straight ahead. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.
Vanitha broke the silence. “Are you okay, mama?”
He forced a smile. “Fine, ma. Just tired.”
She tilted her head. “You don’t look fine.”
He shrugged. “I heard you two talking. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
She looked at him for a long time, her face unreadable. “You’re not causing trouble. Ashok doesn’t know. He never will.”
Selvam let the words sit. He tried to remember why he’d started this with Vanitha in the first place. Was it loneliness? Was it the thrill? Was it something more?
He thought about her in the bedroom, the way she’d smiled when he came inside her, the way she’d whispered his name in the dark. He wanted that again, wanted it more than anything. But now, seeing her here with Ashok, seeing her as a wife, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.
He didn’t answer. He just finished his coffee and stood up, the muscles in his arms tight and shaking. He left the kitchen without another word.
As he walked back to his room, he made a decision. He would stop. He would let her be a wife to his son. He would not touch her again.
He promised himself, but even as he made the promise, he knew he would break it.
Scene 2
Selvam stepped into the backyard, blinking at the brightness. The California air was clean and sharp, the sky already a hard blue. The pool water was cold, a thin fog drifting over the surface. The grass was damp but clipped short, the concrete deck clean and smooth under his bare feet.
Selvam started with push-ups, knuckles pressed into the mat, body moving with practiced ease. He counted each rep, breathing through his nose, refusing to rush. When he finished, he rolled onto his back and did sit-ups, fast and relentless, his abs flexing like ropes under the skin. He finished with squats and then a series of stretches, moving into poses he’d learned from a yoga teacher back in Chennai.
He felt Latha before he saw her. She came outside in a thin blue robe, her hair wet from the shower, a tray of juice and water balanced in both hands. She watched from the edge of the patio, lips slightly open, eyes wide as he finished a set of planks.
Selvam didn’t say anything. He just nodded, sweat already dripping from his nose.
Latha set the tray on the table, then folded her arms across her chest. She wore the robe tight around her waist, but her calves were bare, the skin gold and smooth. She hovered, obviously wanting to talk but not sure how.
“You exercise every day, Uncle?” she asked, voice small.
“Every day,” Selvam said. He got up and wiped his face with the towel dbangd over a chair. “If I stop, my body gets stiff. I feel old.”
Latha laughed, surprised. “You don’t look old at all. Anna says you have more muscles than most college boys.”
Selvam shrugged. “It’s not for show, ma. I just don’t want to die early.”
Latha poured a glass of juice and handed it to him.
She watched him drink, her gaze fixed on his chest. “How do you get muscles like that, Uncle? Even Ashok Anna can’t do like you.”
He finished the juice and set the glass down. “Anna is lazy. He wants quick results. No shortcuts, only hard work.”
She giggled. “Maybe I will also start, if you teach me.”
Selvam laughed, then noticed her eyes, how they trailed down his body and lingered on his stomach.
He felt strange under her gaze. Not embarrassed, but not comfortable either.
Ashok appeared a minute later, still in his pajamas, hair messy, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He saw Latha and Selvam on the patio and grinned.
“Appa, showing off again?” he called, grabbing a glass from the tray.
Selvam rolled his eyes. “You should join instead of making jokes.”
Ashok shrugged, then flexed his bicep with a goofy face. “I get plenty of exercise at the office.”
Latha ignored the banter, her focus never leaving Selvam. “Uncle, you have so much hair?”
He looked at her, confused. “I do?”
She laughed. “yes, like a bear.”
Ashok snorted, “Hahaha, that’s true Appa.”
Selvam looked down. His chest and arms were covered in a dark fuzz, thicker now that he was older. His back had a line of hair down the spine, and his stomach had a trail running to his shorts.
Ashok said, “That’s the Indian in him. But if you want to look like an American, you have to get it waxed. It’s the rule here.”
Selvam scoffed. “No need for that. What’s wrong with hair?”
Latha made a face. “I don’t know, Uncle. I think it would look nice if it was smooth. Like a movie hero.”
Ashok grinned. “You should try it, Appa. Just once. See how you like it. All the guys at my gym do it.”
Selvam waved his hand. “I’m too old for these things. Waxing is for kids.”
At that moment, Vanitha came outside, holding her phone in one hand and squinting in the light. She wore tight black leggings and a sports bra, her waist bare and perfect, the gold chain at her navel flashing with every step.
She looked at Selvam, then at the others, and said, “What’s going on?”
Latha blurted out, “Uncle is too shy to get his chest waxed. Anna said it’s normal here.”
Vanitha’s face lit up. “That’s actually a good idea.” She set her phone on the table and walked over, circling Selvam like a judge at a contest. She ran a finger over his shoulder, then down his arm. “You would look ten years younger if you did it, mama. And it would show off all the work you put in.”
Selvam frowned. “Is it really necessary?”
Vanitha grinned. “I’ll take you to my friend’s place. She just opened a new salon near the strip mall. They do men’s waxing all the time. It’s quick, and it doesn’t hurt that much.”
Ashok laughed, clapping Selvam on the back. “Don’t be a chicken, Appa.”
Latha added, “Please, Uncle? I want to see what you look like without any hair.”
Selvam looked at them, three faces all smiling at him, none of them taking his side.
He shrugged. “If it makes you all happy, I’ll try. But only once.”
Vanitha’s eyes sparkled. “You won’t regret it, mama. I promise.”
Ashok said, “If he starts crying, film it for me.”
Latha giggled, her eyes bright with excitement.
Selvam shook his head, but he couldn’t help the small smile. It was stupid, but he liked how they all looked at him, like he was someone special. Even if it was just for a joke.
Vanitha picked up her phone and started texting. “We’ll go after lunch. Jenny has a slot open today.”
Selvam went back to his workout, but he could feel their eyes on him the whole time.
He tried not to think about what would happen next.
Scene 3
Vanitha drove like a local. She zipped the Prius out of their suburb, cut through a strip of traffic, and pulled into the parking lot outside the salon in under ten minutes. She sang along to the radio, tapping the wheel, never once showing any nerves about the appointment. Selvam sat beside her, arms folded, eyes locked on the row of shops ahead. He’d been in America for less than a week and already nothing made sense: the houses all looked the same, everyone was in a rush, and now he was about to let someone rip the hair off his body for no reason.
He tried to act casual as he followed Vanitha inside. The salon was bright, with spotless white floors and big, soft couches up front. There were potted plants, clean magazine racks, and a wall lined with bottles that looked more expensive than medicine. Behind the counter stood a young woman, short and pale, with a cloud of platinum-blonde hair and the biggest, bluest eyes Selvam had ever seen. She wore a skin-tight tank top and black leggings that hugged her figure, the curve of her backside round and high, even in flat shoes.
Vanitha walked right up to the desk. “Hi, Jenny! I brought you a challenge,” she said, pointing at Selvam.
Jenny grinned, showing off perfect white teeth. “Oh my god, you weren’t kidding! He’s like a real-life Hercules.” She looked him up and down, not hiding her interest. “I’ll grab your intake forms, okay? Have a seat.”
Selvam sat on the couch, feeling all six feet of him crumpled and awkward. Vanitha filled out his name and date of birth on the tablet, then swiped through a few screens before handing it to him for the signature.
Jenny came over with a clipboard. She crouched in front of Selvam, so her face was level with his knees, and tapped a few more questions into the form. “Any allergies? Any meds? Previous waxing experience?” Her voice was fast and clear, almost bored.
Selvam shook his head, then glanced at Vanitha for help.
“He’s a wax virgin,” Vanitha said, barely hiding her smile. “Do you think he can handle the manzilian?”
Jenny looked at Selvam, eyebrows raised. “You want the full package? Chest, abs, back, and down there?”
Selvam cleared his throat. “What is… manzilian?”
Jenny laughed, not cruel but very direct. “It’s like the Brazilian, but for men. I remove all the hair from your private parts. Around your penis, your balls, and the butt crack. Makes you feel like a whole new person, promise.” She winked at Vanitha, then back at him. “You okay with that?”
Selvam hesitated. “It’s normal here?”
Jenny nodded. “Very normal. Athletes, models, all kinds of guys do it. Plus, it’s cleaner. No more sweat trapped in the hair. You’ll love it.”
He looked at Vanitha, hoping for a way out, but she just smiled and said, “It’s fine, mama. If it’s too much, you can always stop.”
Selvam swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Jenny’s eyes sparkled. “You’re gonna be my favorite client today.” She stood up, stretched, and led them to a private waxing room in the back. “Follow me, and let’s get you started.”
The room was bigger than Selvam expected, with a wide table in the center, shelves full of bottles and towels, and a faint, sweet smell he couldn’t place. Jenny handed him a disposable sheet and pointed at the table.
“Go ahead and take your shirt off, and drop your shorts down to your hips. You can cover yourself with this if you want.” She turned away to arrange her supplies, giving him a moment.
Selvam stripped off his t-shirt, then hesitated at the shorts. His cock and balls were heavy and thick, not just from age but from years of old-fashioned masculinity, and the hair made them look even larger. He tried to pull the shorts low without exposing everything, but it was useless. He lay down on the table and covered his groin with the sheet, hands folded over it like a shroud.
Jenny returned, hands gloved, cart in tow. She wore the same thin tank top and leggings, her arms slim and covered in faint freckles. Her ass looked even more prominent from this angle, and Selvam caught himself staring before quickly looking away.
“Ready?” Jenny asked.
He nodded, feeling his cheeks flush.
“Let’s start with the chest,” she said. She peeled back the sheet, leaving it covering only his groin, and examined his torso with clinical interest. “Damn, you’re built. You work out every day?”
Selvam nodded. “I used to be a trainer in India.”
Jenny ran her hand over his chest, feeling the contours. “I bet your wife loves this.” She met his eyes, then glanced at Vanitha, who had perched on a stool by the door, watching everything.
Jenny dipped a stick into the tub of hot wax. She blew on it, then spread a thin layer across Selvam’s left pec, just below the nipple. The sensation was warm, almost soothing. Then she pressed a strip of white cloth onto the wax, patted it down, and ripped it away in one quick motion.
Selvam winced, the pain sharp and bright. He grunted, but tried to stay still.
Jenny smiled. “See? Not so bad.” She kept working, strip after strip, moving across his chest, over his abs, down to the sides of his torso. Each time she pulled a strip, she smoothed her palm over the skin after, like she was petting a dog. It hurt, but less than he’d feared.
After a few minutes, Jenny admired her work. “So smooth already. You’re gonna look ten years younger, promise.”
Selvam glanced down. His chest was pink, but the muscle stood out even more without the hair.
Jenny moved to the lower abs. She lifted the edge of the sheet and eyed the hair that peeked from his waistband. “I’m gonna have to go lower, okay?”
Selvam nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Jenny pulled the shorts lower, just enough to expose the full V of his pelvis. She worked fast, applying wax to the base of his cock, the tops of his thighs, and the ridge above his balls. The pain was sharper here, but her hands were skilled and quick, always soothing after every pull.
She stopped at the sheet, then looked at Vanitha. “Are we going full manzilian?”
Vanitha grinned. “Why not? He’s already halfway there.”
Jenny turned to Selvam. “Ready for the fun part?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
She folded back the sheet, exposing his groin. Selvam’s cock lay heavy, half-flaccid but thick and veined, a dark crown surrounded by a thatch of black hair. Jenny’s eyebrows rose, just a little, and she let out a low whistle.
“Wow,” she said, then caught herself and laughed. “Sorry. Not supposed to comment, but you’re seriously blessed.”
Selvam flushed even deeper. He looked at Vanitha, who just smirked and gave him a thumbs up.
Jenny worked in small sections, using a thinner stick for the delicate areas. She waxed the base of his cock, then gently lifted his shaft, laying it against his stomach to reach the skin underneath. She used her gloved fingers to stretch the skin taut, dabbing on the wax, then pressing the strip, and pulling fast. Each time, Selvam flinched, but Jenny was calm and steady.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “It’s fine,” he said through gritted teeth.
Jenny smiled, professional but warm. “You’re tougher than most guys. They scream when I get here.”
She moved down to his balls, cupping them gently in her hand. She spread them apart, stretching the skin, and applied the wax in a tiny patch. Selvam sucked in a breath, sweat popping on his forehead. The pain was sharper than anything before, but over quickly.
When she finished a section, she paused to check for strays, plucking a few with tweezers. Her fingers were quick and light, brushing over his cock and balls like it was nothing.
Selvam tried not to think about it, but as Jenny worked, his cock began to swell. He felt the blood rush, the heaviness building, and before he could stop it, he was halfway hard, the head glistening with a bead of clear fluid.
Jenny noticed, of course. She didn’t comment, but her cheeks went pink, and her voice softened.
“It’s normal,” she said, without looking at him. “It happens to everyone.”
She waxed the rest of the shaft, then wiped away the residue with a damp cloth. She was careful, but thorough, and her touch felt almost like a massage.
After the groin, she moved to his thighs, spreading them wide to reach the inner side. When she finished, she asked, “Can you roll onto your stomach, please?”
Selvam did as he was told, feeling his cock and balls swing between his legs, now totally hairless and exposed.
Jenny started on his back, moving from the shoulders down to the waist. She paused at his lower back, pressing her palm there to feel the muscle.
“Seriously, I’ve never seen anyone built like this,” she said, not hiding her admiration. “You could be a model.”
Selvam grunted, unsure how to respond.
Jenny finished his back, then moved to the buttocks. She waxed each cheek in quick, overlapping strips, then pressed a hand to each after, smoothing out the sting.
“Last part,” she said. “I need you to get on all fours for this.”
Selvam hesitated, mortified, but did as she asked. He felt totally exposed, his ass high, his cock hanging down and heavy. Jenny worked fast, applying wax to the crease, then ripping it away in two hard pulls. The pain was white-hot, but gone instantly.
She wiped the area with a cool towel, then patted him on the thigh. “All done. You did great.”
Selvam rolled onto his side, then sat up slowly. His skin felt raw and tight, but smooth. His cock was still thick and half-hard, the head almost purple.
Jenny handed him a hand mirror. “Take a look,” she said, grinning.
Selvam stared at his body. His chest and abs gleamed under the light, every muscle outlined. His groin was bare, the skin pink and smooth, his cock and balls looking even bigger without the hair.
He felt ridiculous and proud at the same time.
Jenny cleaned up the stray strips and snapped off her gloves. “You’re good to get dressed. Just use the aloe gel for a few days, and don’t work out too hard today, okay?”
Selvam nodded, unable to look her in the eye.
Jenny turned to Vanitha. “Come see your masterpiece.”
Vanitha walked in, her eyes running over Selvam’s body. She smiled, a real, bright smile, and said, “You look amazing, mama.”
Selvam pulled his shorts up, careful with the sensitive skin. He got dressed as fast as he could, then thanked Jenny with a stiff, awkward handshake.
Jenny laughed, holding his hand for a second longer than necessary. “Come back anytime, okay? You’re my best client.”
Vanitha paid at the counter, then led Selvam out to the car.
As they left, Selvam couldn’t help but look back at the salon, at Jenny’s blonde hair and sly smile. He’d never met anyone like her.
He felt like a new person, but also exactly the same.
Scene 4
Vanitha waited in the salon lobby, legs crossed, one heel bouncing as she scrolled through her phone. The place smelled like citrus and baby powder, and the receptionist kept glancing at her, clearly curious what a woman so beautiful was doing alone at a waxing parlor in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon.
When Selvam came out from the back, the first thing Vanitha noticed was how he walked. His posture was straighter, his steps lighter, almost as if someone had peeled off ten years of age along with all the hair. He wore the same shorts and a clean t-shirt, but the difference was obvious: his chest bulged under the fabric, and his arms looked like they belonged to a fitness influencer, not a retired bank clerk.
She stood up, putting away her phone. “Well, look at you,” she said, her voice full of mischief.
Selvam tried to play it cool. “It’s just a shave, ma. Not a miracle.”
Vanitha grinned, stepping close enough that her perfume mingled with the scent of aloe on his skin. She ran a finger over his bicep, then down to his forearm, making slow, tight circles. “You’re smoother already. I can tell even before touching.”
He blushed, glancing at the glass doors. “Vanitha, someone will see.”
She laughed, her teeth bright. “Let them see. You look like a movie hero, mama. All the women in there were staring. Even the blonde girl was impressed.”
He tried to scoff, but he liked hearing it.
On the walk to the car, Vanitha walked beside him, her hand slipped under his arm, gripping the warm, bare skin above his elbow. She stroked his tricep, the curve of his deltoid, then snaked her fingers under the sleeve and squeezed the flesh of his shoulder. Selvam could feel her nails scbanging, slow and deliberate. Every step made his heart beat faster.
When they reached the car, Vanitha opened the passenger door for him. He slid in, feeling strange and exposed in his new skin. She got in beside him, clicked the doors shut, and then instead of starting the car, she turned to face him, lips parted in a hungry, open smile.
Vanitha reached over and tugged at the neckline of his shirt. “Show me, mama,” she said, and before he could react, she pulled the shirt up and over his head. His chest was still pink from the waxing, but the muscles rippled under the skin, each line crisp and clean.
She traced a finger down the middle of his chest, past his sternum to the soft, hairless belly. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her eyes bright. “It’s like a statue.”
He tried to cover himself. “Don’t, ma,” he muttered, embarrassed. “It looks silly.”
She ignored him. She pressed her face to his chest, nuzzling against the smooth skin, then kissed just above his left nipple. Her lips lingered there, warm and soft, and then she bit, just hard enough to leave a mark.
Selvam sucked in a breath. His cock, already sensitive from the waxing, swelled against the inside of his shorts.
Vanitha pulled back, her mouth glistening. She stared at him, eyes sharp, voice low. “I want to see the rest. All of it. Jenny said you were the biggest she’s ever seen. Is that true?”
He looked away, mortified but hard as stone. “She’s just being polite.”
Vanitha shook her head. “No, mama. She wanted to fuck you. I could see it in her face.”
She reached down and cupped his balls through the thin fabric. “You feel so different. So smooth.” She massaged, rolling them gently in her palm. “I can’t wait to see how it looks when you fuck me later.”
He tried to protest, but she shushed him, her lips pressed to his ear. “You’re mine, mama. I’ll take care of you.”
She buttoned his shirt back up, slow and neat, then started the car. As they pulled out of the lot, her hand stayed on his thigh, squeezing every time she took a turn.
Selvam stared out the window, his thoughts a blur of shame, pride, and pure, helpless need.
He knew, in that moment, that he would never stop wanting her. No matter how hard he tried.
Scene 1
The morning started before the sun was up. Selvam heard the water heater click on, the soft slap of pool water against the tiles outside, and the muffled thump of footsteps on the kitchen floor. He rolled out of bed, careful not to let the mattress squeak, and pulled on the same cotton shorts he’d slept in. The house was cold and bright, light leaking in through the high windows and painting everything in gray.
He heard voices in the kitchen. The new house had thin walls and hard surfaces, every sound bouncing from room to room. Selvam paused in the hallway, listening.
Vanitha was at the counter, making coffee in the American drip machine. She stood on tiptoe, pushing a canister to the back of the shelf, her long hair bundled up in a messy bun. She wore loose gym shorts and a tank top, and her bare arms and shoulders shivered a little in the chill. Ashok sat at the counter, rubbing his eyes and scrolling through his phone, a look of deep concentration on his face.
They sounded happy. There was the clatter of mugs, the small thump of elbows on granite, and then Ashok’s voice, sleepy and soft, “I’m sorry about last night, ma.”
Vanitha paused, coffee scoop in hand. “Sorry for what?” she asked, not looking at him.
“For… you know.” Ashok gave a weak smile. “I tried to hold back, but you’re too good.”
Vanitha glanced over her shoulder, checking the hallway. “It’s okay, da. You didn’t finish inside. That’s what matters.”
Ashok’s smile faded. “I still feel bad. Sometimes I forget you don’t want to get pregnant, or have a baby the normal way. We have Latha for that.”
Vanitha laughed, quick and low. “I don’t want to mess up my stomach, that’s all. I like how it looks now. If I get pregnant, I lose everything.”
Ashok shook his head. “You’d still look perfect, even if you gained ten kilos.”
She poked him with the coffee scoop, a smudge of grounds on his forearm. “You say that now, but if I turned into a balloon, you’d run away to the gym forever.”
Ashok laughed, rubbing at the brown spot on his skin. “No way. You think too much.”
Vanitha leaned on the counter, staring straight at him. “Thanks for not cumming inside me.”
Ashok looked up at her, eyes wide. “I would never. You know that.”
They were silent for a second, just the hum of the fridge and the faint beep of someone’s phone in the background.
Selvam stood at the edge of the hallway, just out of sight, his body frozen in place. The words hit him hard, as if someone had flicked his ear. “Thanks for not cumming inside me.” He had never heard Vanitha say anything like that before. He knew, of course, that Ashok and Vanitha slept together—they were married, after all—but hearing it this way, so blunt and final, made his chest ache.
He let himself imagine it for a second: Vanitha on her back, Ashok on top of her, both of them panting and sweating in the dark. He pictured the way she’d arch her back, the way she might dig her nails into Ashok’s arms, the way her voice would break when she moaned. He hated the image, but it wouldn’t leave. It stayed, sticky and raw.
He thought about his own hands on her hips, the way she’d clenched around him, the way her hair had spread out over his pillow, the sound she made when he came inside her. The memory was perfect and sharp, and for a moment he felt a surge of pride… she hadn’t let Ashok finish inside, but she’d let Selvam. She’d wanted Selvam’s cum, wanted to feel it leak out and run down her thigh, wanted to carry his seed even if she never got pregnant from it.
He felt sick with himself, a twisted satisfaction fighting with the shame.
The kitchen went quiet. He heard Vanitha’s voice, softer now, “I just don’t want to take any chances. Not until the thing with Latha is settled.”
Ashok said, “It’s your body. You decide.”
Vanitha’s voice was clear and steady. “I don’t want to be like those other women. I don’t want to look like Amma did after she had three kids. I want to stay tight and slim. I want to wear sarees low and have everyone stare at my waist. That’s what I worked for. And it’s important for my career”
Ashok gave a small, proud laugh. “You will. Everyone will stare. And I know you will do great things with your saree boutique dream.”
Selvam didn’t know if he should enter the kitchen or go back to bed. He felt like an intruder, like a thief who’d been caught in the act. He hated Ashok in that moment… hated his easy confidence, his simple love for Vanitha, his total ignorance of what had happened in the house back in India. He hated Vanitha too, a little, for being so honest, for saying things he wished he could forget.
He tried to remember the last time he’d felt so alone.
After a while, he took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen. He kept his eyes on the floor, but Vanitha saw him right away. She smiled, bright and fake, “Good morning, mama. Want coffee?”
He grunted. “Black, please.”
Ashok turned in his chair, giving Selvam a lazy wave. “Morning, Appa.”
Selvam nodded, moving to the far side of the island. He sat down, folding his arms over his bare chest, and stared at the granite. He could feel the heat of Vanitha’s body as she poured him coffee, the soft brush of her hand as she set the mug down.
Ashok talked about his plans for the day, some conference call and a trip to the gym, but Selvam barely heard him. He watched Vanitha move around the kitchen, every motion crisp and controlled. She was beautiful, even in the dim light. He couldn’t stop watching her.
She never looked back at him, not once.
Ashok finished his coffee and got up, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m going for a run,” he said, already heading to the stairs. “See you later, Vani.”
Vanitha nodded. “Have fun, da.”
When Ashok left, the kitchen went silent again. Selvam sipped his coffee, staring straight ahead. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.
Vanitha broke the silence. “Are you okay, mama?”
He forced a smile. “Fine, ma. Just tired.”
She tilted her head. “You don’t look fine.”
He shrugged. “I heard you two talking. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
She looked at him for a long time, her face unreadable. “You’re not causing trouble. Ashok doesn’t know. He never will.”
Selvam let the words sit. He tried to remember why he’d started this with Vanitha in the first place. Was it loneliness? Was it the thrill? Was it something more?
He thought about her in the bedroom, the way she’d smiled when he came inside her, the way she’d whispered his name in the dark. He wanted that again, wanted it more than anything. But now, seeing her here with Ashok, seeing her as a wife, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.
He didn’t answer. He just finished his coffee and stood up, the muscles in his arms tight and shaking. He left the kitchen without another word.
As he walked back to his room, he made a decision. He would stop. He would let her be a wife to his son. He would not touch her again.
He promised himself, but even as he made the promise, he knew he would break it.
Scene 2
Selvam stepped into the backyard, blinking at the brightness. The California air was clean and sharp, the sky already a hard blue. The pool water was cold, a thin fog drifting over the surface. The grass was damp but clipped short, the concrete deck clean and smooth under his bare feet.
Selvam started with push-ups, knuckles pressed into the mat, body moving with practiced ease. He counted each rep, breathing through his nose, refusing to rush. When he finished, he rolled onto his back and did sit-ups, fast and relentless, his abs flexing like ropes under the skin. He finished with squats and then a series of stretches, moving into poses he’d learned from a yoga teacher back in Chennai.
He felt Latha before he saw her. She came outside in a thin blue robe, her hair wet from the shower, a tray of juice and water balanced in both hands. She watched from the edge of the patio, lips slightly open, eyes wide as he finished a set of planks.
Selvam didn’t say anything. He just nodded, sweat already dripping from his nose.
Latha set the tray on the table, then folded her arms across her chest. She wore the robe tight around her waist, but her calves were bare, the skin gold and smooth. She hovered, obviously wanting to talk but not sure how.
“You exercise every day, Uncle?” she asked, voice small.
“Every day,” Selvam said. He got up and wiped his face with the towel dbangd over a chair. “If I stop, my body gets stiff. I feel old.”
Latha laughed, surprised. “You don’t look old at all. Anna says you have more muscles than most college boys.”
Selvam shrugged. “It’s not for show, ma. I just don’t want to die early.”
Latha poured a glass of juice and handed it to him.
She watched him drink, her gaze fixed on his chest. “How do you get muscles like that, Uncle? Even Ashok Anna can’t do like you.”
He finished the juice and set the glass down. “Anna is lazy. He wants quick results. No shortcuts, only hard work.”
She giggled. “Maybe I will also start, if you teach me.”
Selvam laughed, then noticed her eyes, how they trailed down his body and lingered on his stomach.
He felt strange under her gaze. Not embarrassed, but not comfortable either.
Ashok appeared a minute later, still in his pajamas, hair messy, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He saw Latha and Selvam on the patio and grinned.
“Appa, showing off again?” he called, grabbing a glass from the tray.
Selvam rolled his eyes. “You should join instead of making jokes.”
Ashok shrugged, then flexed his bicep with a goofy face. “I get plenty of exercise at the office.”
Latha ignored the banter, her focus never leaving Selvam. “Uncle, you have so much hair?”
He looked at her, confused. “I do?”
She laughed. “yes, like a bear.”
Ashok snorted, “Hahaha, that’s true Appa.”
Selvam looked down. His chest and arms were covered in a dark fuzz, thicker now that he was older. His back had a line of hair down the spine, and his stomach had a trail running to his shorts.
Ashok said, “That’s the Indian in him. But if you want to look like an American, you have to get it waxed. It’s the rule here.”
Selvam scoffed. “No need for that. What’s wrong with hair?”
Latha made a face. “I don’t know, Uncle. I think it would look nice if it was smooth. Like a movie hero.”
Ashok grinned. “You should try it, Appa. Just once. See how you like it. All the guys at my gym do it.”
Selvam waved his hand. “I’m too old for these things. Waxing is for kids.”
At that moment, Vanitha came outside, holding her phone in one hand and squinting in the light. She wore tight black leggings and a sports bra, her waist bare and perfect, the gold chain at her navel flashing with every step.
She looked at Selvam, then at the others, and said, “What’s going on?”
Latha blurted out, “Uncle is too shy to get his chest waxed. Anna said it’s normal here.”
Vanitha’s face lit up. “That’s actually a good idea.” She set her phone on the table and walked over, circling Selvam like a judge at a contest. She ran a finger over his shoulder, then down his arm. “You would look ten years younger if you did it, mama. And it would show off all the work you put in.”
Selvam frowned. “Is it really necessary?”
Vanitha grinned. “I’ll take you to my friend’s place. She just opened a new salon near the strip mall. They do men’s waxing all the time. It’s quick, and it doesn’t hurt that much.”
Ashok laughed, clapping Selvam on the back. “Don’t be a chicken, Appa.”
Latha added, “Please, Uncle? I want to see what you look like without any hair.”
Selvam looked at them, three faces all smiling at him, none of them taking his side.
He shrugged. “If it makes you all happy, I’ll try. But only once.”
Vanitha’s eyes sparkled. “You won’t regret it, mama. I promise.”
Ashok said, “If he starts crying, film it for me.”
Latha giggled, her eyes bright with excitement.
Selvam shook his head, but he couldn’t help the small smile. It was stupid, but he liked how they all looked at him, like he was someone special. Even if it was just for a joke.
Vanitha picked up her phone and started texting. “We’ll go after lunch. Jenny has a slot open today.”
Selvam went back to his workout, but he could feel their eyes on him the whole time.
He tried not to think about what would happen next.
Scene 3
Vanitha drove like a local. She zipped the Prius out of their suburb, cut through a strip of traffic, and pulled into the parking lot outside the salon in under ten minutes. She sang along to the radio, tapping the wheel, never once showing any nerves about the appointment. Selvam sat beside her, arms folded, eyes locked on the row of shops ahead. He’d been in America for less than a week and already nothing made sense: the houses all looked the same, everyone was in a rush, and now he was about to let someone rip the hair off his body for no reason.
He tried to act casual as he followed Vanitha inside. The salon was bright, with spotless white floors and big, soft couches up front. There were potted plants, clean magazine racks, and a wall lined with bottles that looked more expensive than medicine. Behind the counter stood a young woman, short and pale, with a cloud of platinum-blonde hair and the biggest, bluest eyes Selvam had ever seen. She wore a skin-tight tank top and black leggings that hugged her figure, the curve of her backside round and high, even in flat shoes.
Vanitha walked right up to the desk. “Hi, Jenny! I brought you a challenge,” she said, pointing at Selvam.
Jenny grinned, showing off perfect white teeth. “Oh my god, you weren’t kidding! He’s like a real-life Hercules.” She looked him up and down, not hiding her interest. “I’ll grab your intake forms, okay? Have a seat.”
Selvam sat on the couch, feeling all six feet of him crumpled and awkward. Vanitha filled out his name and date of birth on the tablet, then swiped through a few screens before handing it to him for the signature.
Jenny came over with a clipboard. She crouched in front of Selvam, so her face was level with his knees, and tapped a few more questions into the form. “Any allergies? Any meds? Previous waxing experience?” Her voice was fast and clear, almost bored.
Selvam shook his head, then glanced at Vanitha for help.
“He’s a wax virgin,” Vanitha said, barely hiding her smile. “Do you think he can handle the manzilian?”
Jenny looked at Selvam, eyebrows raised. “You want the full package? Chest, abs, back, and down there?”
Selvam cleared his throat. “What is… manzilian?”
Jenny laughed, not cruel but very direct. “It’s like the Brazilian, but for men. I remove all the hair from your private parts. Around your penis, your balls, and the butt crack. Makes you feel like a whole new person, promise.” She winked at Vanitha, then back at him. “You okay with that?”
Selvam hesitated. “It’s normal here?”
Jenny nodded. “Very normal. Athletes, models, all kinds of guys do it. Plus, it’s cleaner. No more sweat trapped in the hair. You’ll love it.”
He looked at Vanitha, hoping for a way out, but she just smiled and said, “It’s fine, mama. If it’s too much, you can always stop.”
Selvam swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Jenny’s eyes sparkled. “You’re gonna be my favorite client today.” She stood up, stretched, and led them to a private waxing room in the back. “Follow me, and let’s get you started.”
The room was bigger than Selvam expected, with a wide table in the center, shelves full of bottles and towels, and a faint, sweet smell he couldn’t place. Jenny handed him a disposable sheet and pointed at the table.
“Go ahead and take your shirt off, and drop your shorts down to your hips. You can cover yourself with this if you want.” She turned away to arrange her supplies, giving him a moment.
Selvam stripped off his t-shirt, then hesitated at the shorts. His cock and balls were heavy and thick, not just from age but from years of old-fashioned masculinity, and the hair made them look even larger. He tried to pull the shorts low without exposing everything, but it was useless. He lay down on the table and covered his groin with the sheet, hands folded over it like a shroud.
Jenny returned, hands gloved, cart in tow. She wore the same thin tank top and leggings, her arms slim and covered in faint freckles. Her ass looked even more prominent from this angle, and Selvam caught himself staring before quickly looking away.
“Ready?” Jenny asked.
He nodded, feeling his cheeks flush.
“Let’s start with the chest,” she said. She peeled back the sheet, leaving it covering only his groin, and examined his torso with clinical interest. “Damn, you’re built. You work out every day?”
Selvam nodded. “I used to be a trainer in India.”
Jenny ran her hand over his chest, feeling the contours. “I bet your wife loves this.” She met his eyes, then glanced at Vanitha, who had perched on a stool by the door, watching everything.
Jenny dipped a stick into the tub of hot wax. She blew on it, then spread a thin layer across Selvam’s left pec, just below the nipple. The sensation was warm, almost soothing. Then she pressed a strip of white cloth onto the wax, patted it down, and ripped it away in one quick motion.
Selvam winced, the pain sharp and bright. He grunted, but tried to stay still.
Jenny smiled. “See? Not so bad.” She kept working, strip after strip, moving across his chest, over his abs, down to the sides of his torso. Each time she pulled a strip, she smoothed her palm over the skin after, like she was petting a dog. It hurt, but less than he’d feared.
After a few minutes, Jenny admired her work. “So smooth already. You’re gonna look ten years younger, promise.”
Selvam glanced down. His chest was pink, but the muscle stood out even more without the hair.
Jenny moved to the lower abs. She lifted the edge of the sheet and eyed the hair that peeked from his waistband. “I’m gonna have to go lower, okay?”
Selvam nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Jenny pulled the shorts lower, just enough to expose the full V of his pelvis. She worked fast, applying wax to the base of his cock, the tops of his thighs, and the ridge above his balls. The pain was sharper here, but her hands were skilled and quick, always soothing after every pull.
She stopped at the sheet, then looked at Vanitha. “Are we going full manzilian?”
Vanitha grinned. “Why not? He’s already halfway there.”
Jenny turned to Selvam. “Ready for the fun part?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
She folded back the sheet, exposing his groin. Selvam’s cock lay heavy, half-flaccid but thick and veined, a dark crown surrounded by a thatch of black hair. Jenny’s eyebrows rose, just a little, and she let out a low whistle.
“Wow,” she said, then caught herself and laughed. “Sorry. Not supposed to comment, but you’re seriously blessed.”
Selvam flushed even deeper. He looked at Vanitha, who just smirked and gave him a thumbs up.
Jenny worked in small sections, using a thinner stick for the delicate areas. She waxed the base of his cock, then gently lifted his shaft, laying it against his stomach to reach the skin underneath. She used her gloved fingers to stretch the skin taut, dabbing on the wax, then pressing the strip, and pulling fast. Each time, Selvam flinched, but Jenny was calm and steady.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “It’s fine,” he said through gritted teeth.
Jenny smiled, professional but warm. “You’re tougher than most guys. They scream when I get here.”
She moved down to his balls, cupping them gently in her hand. She spread them apart, stretching the skin, and applied the wax in a tiny patch. Selvam sucked in a breath, sweat popping on his forehead. The pain was sharper than anything before, but over quickly.
When she finished a section, she paused to check for strays, plucking a few with tweezers. Her fingers were quick and light, brushing over his cock and balls like it was nothing.
Selvam tried not to think about it, but as Jenny worked, his cock began to swell. He felt the blood rush, the heaviness building, and before he could stop it, he was halfway hard, the head glistening with a bead of clear fluid.
Jenny noticed, of course. She didn’t comment, but her cheeks went pink, and her voice softened.
“It’s normal,” she said, without looking at him. “It happens to everyone.”
She waxed the rest of the shaft, then wiped away the residue with a damp cloth. She was careful, but thorough, and her touch felt almost like a massage.
After the groin, she moved to his thighs, spreading them wide to reach the inner side. When she finished, she asked, “Can you roll onto your stomach, please?”
Selvam did as he was told, feeling his cock and balls swing between his legs, now totally hairless and exposed.
Jenny started on his back, moving from the shoulders down to the waist. She paused at his lower back, pressing her palm there to feel the muscle.
“Seriously, I’ve never seen anyone built like this,” she said, not hiding her admiration. “You could be a model.”
Selvam grunted, unsure how to respond.
Jenny finished his back, then moved to the buttocks. She waxed each cheek in quick, overlapping strips, then pressed a hand to each after, smoothing out the sting.
“Last part,” she said. “I need you to get on all fours for this.”
Selvam hesitated, mortified, but did as she asked. He felt totally exposed, his ass high, his cock hanging down and heavy. Jenny worked fast, applying wax to the crease, then ripping it away in two hard pulls. The pain was white-hot, but gone instantly.
She wiped the area with a cool towel, then patted him on the thigh. “All done. You did great.”
Selvam rolled onto his side, then sat up slowly. His skin felt raw and tight, but smooth. His cock was still thick and half-hard, the head almost purple.
Jenny handed him a hand mirror. “Take a look,” she said, grinning.
Selvam stared at his body. His chest and abs gleamed under the light, every muscle outlined. His groin was bare, the skin pink and smooth, his cock and balls looking even bigger without the hair.
He felt ridiculous and proud at the same time.
Jenny cleaned up the stray strips and snapped off her gloves. “You’re good to get dressed. Just use the aloe gel for a few days, and don’t work out too hard today, okay?”
Selvam nodded, unable to look her in the eye.
Jenny turned to Vanitha. “Come see your masterpiece.”
Vanitha walked in, her eyes running over Selvam’s body. She smiled, a real, bright smile, and said, “You look amazing, mama.”
Selvam pulled his shorts up, careful with the sensitive skin. He got dressed as fast as he could, then thanked Jenny with a stiff, awkward handshake.
Jenny laughed, holding his hand for a second longer than necessary. “Come back anytime, okay? You’re my best client.”
Vanitha paid at the counter, then led Selvam out to the car.
As they left, Selvam couldn’t help but look back at the salon, at Jenny’s blonde hair and sly smile. He’d never met anyone like her.
He felt like a new person, but also exactly the same.
Scene 4
Vanitha waited in the salon lobby, legs crossed, one heel bouncing as she scrolled through her phone. The place smelled like citrus and baby powder, and the receptionist kept glancing at her, clearly curious what a woman so beautiful was doing alone at a waxing parlor in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon.
When Selvam came out from the back, the first thing Vanitha noticed was how he walked. His posture was straighter, his steps lighter, almost as if someone had peeled off ten years of age along with all the hair. He wore the same shorts and a clean t-shirt, but the difference was obvious: his chest bulged under the fabric, and his arms looked like they belonged to a fitness influencer, not a retired bank clerk.
She stood up, putting away her phone. “Well, look at you,” she said, her voice full of mischief.
Selvam tried to play it cool. “It’s just a shave, ma. Not a miracle.”
Vanitha grinned, stepping close enough that her perfume mingled with the scent of aloe on his skin. She ran a finger over his bicep, then down to his forearm, making slow, tight circles. “You’re smoother already. I can tell even before touching.”
He blushed, glancing at the glass doors. “Vanitha, someone will see.”
She laughed, her teeth bright. “Let them see. You look like a movie hero, mama. All the women in there were staring. Even the blonde girl was impressed.”
He tried to scoff, but he liked hearing it.
On the walk to the car, Vanitha walked beside him, her hand slipped under his arm, gripping the warm, bare skin above his elbow. She stroked his tricep, the curve of his deltoid, then snaked her fingers under the sleeve and squeezed the flesh of his shoulder. Selvam could feel her nails scbanging, slow and deliberate. Every step made his heart beat faster.
When they reached the car, Vanitha opened the passenger door for him. He slid in, feeling strange and exposed in his new skin. She got in beside him, clicked the doors shut, and then instead of starting the car, she turned to face him, lips parted in a hungry, open smile.
Vanitha reached over and tugged at the neckline of his shirt. “Show me, mama,” she said, and before he could react, she pulled the shirt up and over his head. His chest was still pink from the waxing, but the muscles rippled under the skin, each line crisp and clean.
She traced a finger down the middle of his chest, past his sternum to the soft, hairless belly. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her eyes bright. “It’s like a statue.”
He tried to cover himself. “Don’t, ma,” he muttered, embarrassed. “It looks silly.”
She ignored him. She pressed her face to his chest, nuzzling against the smooth skin, then kissed just above his left nipple. Her lips lingered there, warm and soft, and then she bit, just hard enough to leave a mark.
Selvam sucked in a breath. His cock, already sensitive from the waxing, swelled against the inside of his shorts.
Vanitha pulled back, her mouth glistening. She stared at him, eyes sharp, voice low. “I want to see the rest. All of it. Jenny said you were the biggest she’s ever seen. Is that true?”
He looked away, mortified but hard as stone. “She’s just being polite.”
Vanitha shook her head. “No, mama. She wanted to fuck you. I could see it in her face.”
She reached down and cupped his balls through the thin fabric. “You feel so different. So smooth.” She massaged, rolling them gently in her palm. “I can’t wait to see how it looks when you fuck me later.”
He tried to protest, but she shushed him, her lips pressed to his ear. “You’re mine, mama. I’ll take care of you.”
She buttoned his shirt back up, slow and neat, then started the car. As they pulled out of the lot, her hand stayed on his thigh, squeezing every time she took a turn.
Selvam stared out the window, his thoughts a blur of shame, pride, and pure, helpless need.
He knew, in that moment, that he would never stop wanting her. No matter how hard he tried.
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