Weight of Motherhood

The wedding and inevitable First night (🔞)

Shyam's heart pounded in his chest as he descended the grand staircase, each step a silent protest against the elaborate necklace of flowers weighing him down.

The maids flanked him, their own vibrant attire a stark contrast to his own awkwardness.

The air had the scent of incense and marigolds, the only thing more suffocating than the necklace itself. He had never felt so out of place in his life.

The venue unfolded before him, a riot of color and light that seemed to pulse with the anticipation of the villagers.

He wanted to look at the venue, to check how royal a royal wedding is. What greeted him instead was a vision that could only be described as divine.

The entire space had been transformed into a heavenly garden, complete with floating diyas and intricate rangoli patterns that danced under his feet.

The mandap stood at the center, a gleaming structure of gold and white that seemed to beckon him with a silent promise of fate. Beneath it, Govardhan, the village ruler, awaited him with a stoic expression.

Shyam had met him only once before, during the priest's unexpected proposal, and the gravity of the situation had only just begun to sink in.

He was about to marry a man, a man he barely knew, all in the name of a superstition that seemed too absurd to be real.

But the villagers saw it differently. Their eyes were filled with hope, their faces wreathed in smiles that seemed to expect miracles.

Ramu his formal friend was there, Shyam tried to avoid his eyes ' What might he be thinking, is he laughing at me or pitying me?"
But when he saw his friend he was surprised how even his friend looks at him like he was looking at a queen. The entire thing started to feel scary, the villagers hope is

They had placed their faith in the priest's ancient wisdom, and in turn, their gaze rested upon Shyam, the unassuming savior to their long-standing plight.

The weight of their anticipation was palpable, a silent chant that seemed to resonate through the very air.

Shyam's eyes met Govardhan's, and for a brief moment, he saw the quiet desperation in the man's gaze. It was a mirror of his own, a reflection of the fear and doubt that he had tried so hard to conceal.

But as the priest began the sacred chants, the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them and the invisible threads of destiny that now bound them together.

With trembling hands, Shyam reached out to accept the garland of marigolds, the first gesture in a union that defied all he had ever known.

Shyam's eyes blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of colors and faces that swirled around him.

The wedding had been a blur, a feverish dream painted in vibrant hues of red and gold.

His thoughts raced as he stumbled into the quiet solitude of his room, the pungent scent of incense lingering in the air.

He staggered to the mirror, his hand shaking as it reached for the ornate wooden frame.

The reflection that stared back at him was that of a stranger, adorned in unfamiliar finery, with kajal lining his eyes and a heavy necklace of red and white beads resting on his collarbone.

He touched the warm metal of the mangalsutra, feeling its weight around his neck like an anchor.

The room spun as he traced the line of vermilion that started at his hairline and ended in a delicate dot on his forehead.

It was all too real. He had become a bride, a role he never imagined filling.

The throb in his temples grew stronger with each breath he took, his mind struggling to reconcile the reality before him with the life he had always known.

The silence of the room was shattered by the distant sound of laughter and music from the festivities outside.

As he took in the sight of the red lehanga around his body, the gold bangles jingling on his wrists, and the thick red line of his new status snaking down to his parted hair, he realized the gravity of his situation.

The priest's words played in his mind like a haunting melody: "Only by bearing this burden can the curse be lifted, and Sumitra may conceive."

The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, as he contemplated the year ahead, a year of deceit and tradition, a year of playing a role he never wanted.

Just then he saw the man, the king , his husband coming towards his "The priest never said about spending the night with him" Shyam could feel his heart almost upload.

He had been dreaming about his first night but never with a man. With each passing step Govardhan grew bigger, even with a good height of 5'10 Shyam could not compete with this giant of a man.

"This can't be happening, I dont want him to touch me" just as he was thinking, Govardhan planted a kiss on his painted lips.

"I love you Sumitra" He said planting yet another kiss but more powerful.

Shyam could feel his tongue in his mouth, the smell of liquor coming with Govardhan breath.

Shyam protested and stepped away from him but still trying to get free from his grip.

The king put his hands on shyam's waist and pulled him closer again and started the routine of licking shyam's neck.

Shyam felt powerless and just about to cry when he saw a familiar face. A face that was missing the entire wedding, it was the face of only person who could help him out of this mess.

"Your sumitra is behind you, my lord" sumitra called out Govardhan making sure to show the things he was missing while kissing shyam.

Her big bossom giving the angels of heaven run for their money. There was not even in strand of cloth in her body.

The growing member under Shyam's was a reminder that he was still a man. But the memory of what happened to him still causing him to doubt he masculinity

Shyam has never doubted his manhood before but these 10 minutes have destroyed that he took pride in, his manhood.