An Indian Bride
Satyajit gave a “good morning” to the tall willowy blonde from next door. Rolling her eyes in disdain, Lindsey replied in a condescending air.
“Whatever Apu”
He winced.
“My name’s not Apu, it’s Satyajit.”
As she marched down the stairway, she called back: “Whatever, you know I can’t pronounce that.”
Satyajit knew if she bothered, she could.
So yeah, Lindsey Davis was rather rude. A barrister who worked long hours without much time for play, and from what Satyajit had heard, she wasn’t particularly liked amongst her peers. True he understood that a bombshell like her had to whip out the guy repellent to fend off pervs but c’mon he was just being neighbourly.
Well fine, he’d still be civil to Lindsey by the stairway or outside by the bins, but he sure wasn’t going to ask her over for tea anytime soon.
Anyhow, Satyajit at present had bigger problems on his plate. Namely his mother wouldn’t shut up about how she was no spring lamb and was killing for some grandkids. “Real smooth ma” replied her only child.
Satyajit’s dad, stern and humourless had added “Either find yourself a wife or we’ll pick one for you by your twenty-fifth birthday.”
Satyajit was by now twenty-four and still single. Sure, he knew arranged marriages could turn out okay. A friend of his back home had a sharp, instinctive mother who picked a wonderful bride for her boy. It was just Satyajit’s parents were nowhere that insightful. Mum would probably choose a girl who’s face she rather liked and even if the marriage went south his dad would bark “Suck it up kid!” so being trapped with a woman he couldn’t stand all thanks to his parents’ bad judgement was an unsettling possibility.
Satyajit remembered relaying these concerns to his uncle Kailash during his last visit back home. And as it happened, Uncle Kailash had a pretty fantastic marriage, despite his bride initially appearing to be a dull joyless woman, she soon turned out to be a friendly, merry lady, completely smitten with her husband and thus their marriage prospered.
“Whatever your secret is,” Satyajit had told him “I’d like to know it.”
And Kailash grinning devilishly, reached into his pocket and pulled out some kind of medallion made of iron. “I cheated,” he explained “I know a little technique that can do anything to a woman’s mind.”
“Hypnosis?” Satyajit laughed.
“Well,” explained Kailash “it’s a little more magical than that but sure, think of it as hypnosis. Trust me the results will blow you away.”
Pressing the iron medallion onto Satyajit’s open palm he added: “Just dangle this in front of a woman and whatever you tell her will come true. Seriously.”
Satyajit had laughed his head off but pocketed the medallion all the same.
In truth he had no intention of using it but liking the design held on to the trinket to use as a keychain. Something about the harsh grey iron cut into a diamond shape rather appealed to him. And nothing more would have come of this if a certain incident hadn’t set him off.
For something happened one humid Friday evening, that made Satyajit pretty spiteful.
He was in the courtyard, not thinking about anything in particular as carrying rubbish to the bins when his low-level serenity was shattered by a loud honking sound. Leaping up in the air Satyajit pressed himself up against the wall as a silvery blur shot past him doing fifty miles per hour, narrowly missing his tender body by inches.
The breaks slammed with a horrid screeching as the battered Chrysler crashed into a parking space. The driver’s door then flung open, hitting Satyajit’s own car before a drunk and enraged Lindsey spilled out onto the ground.
“Hey!” shouted Satyajit “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Oh, cram it curry face!” Lindsey yelled back “I don’t need any lip from a fucking paki!”
Enough was enough! Least of all because he was from India not Pakistan!
As the drunk woman staggered to her feet and barged past him, Satyajit knew he could not let this go. Did anyone like her? Would she be missed? He clutched at his keys in his pocket and as his fingers clasped around the special medallion, everything his uncle had told him came rushing back. Still burning with anger Satyajit thought: why not?
Lindsey hammered on the front door before flinging herself on the ground and digging into her handbag, hauling out nothing but used tissues and empty bottles.
She then glared at the staring Satyajit and asked “Well?”
Pulling out his keys from his pocket, Satyajit let the medallion dangle from his clenched fist.
“Hurry up!” she spat
Satyajit walked over to the glaring, red faced Lindsey and said “Look!”
He swayed the medallion in a soothing clockwise pattern, and to his amazement he saw Lindsey’s rage instantly vanish as she became transfixed over the trinket.
“Get up,” he demanded, and the drunken Lindsey bolted up, standing erect, unable to take her eyes away from the iron pendant.
Satyajit opened the front door to the flat block and told Lindsey that they were going up to his place. She offered no protest and stared unblinkingly at the swaying piece of metal that seemed to glow slightly.
“Move,” he told her, taking some satisfaction as the bitch did what he said without question.
After clearing the stairways and entering his flat, Lindsey sat down on his settee as instructed, motionless and not making a sound.
Satyajit swallowed, feeling uneasy, he didn’t believe in magic and yet what was he going to do now if not perform a magic spell? His uncle had told him that anything he said to a woman would come true, Satyajit guessed that included her appearance. Which explained why Uncle Kailash’s wife had dropped fifty pounds in a week.
“Do you like your body?” he asked
“Yes,” she replied emotionlessly “I’m proud of it.”
“What do you like about it?”
“I’m tall,” she stated, “I’m slim, I’m grateful I’ve got small breasts and a tiny waist.”
“You’re wrong,” said Satyajit “you’re not tall.”
“I’m not?”
“You’re 5′6,” he said
She frowned.
“I don’t want to be.”
“You are,” he replied “You’re proud that you’re not tall. You’re proud that you’re shorter than most men.”
“I…I…”
“Repeat after me,” Satyajit said “You’re not tall.”
“I’m not tall.”
“You’re short,”
“I’m short.”
“And you’re proud of that fact.”
“I’m…I’m…”
“Say it.”
“I’m proud,” she said sounding at first reluctant but then serene “I’m proud that I’m short.
Satyajit knew what would happen next but he still wasn’t prepared for it. He gasped as Lindsey without warning suddenly shrunk. Her legs shortened along with her spine as a few inches were chopped off her height. The tall imposing blonde seemed a hell of a lot less threatening now she no longer towered over him.
Satyajit swallowed.
“You are proud of your breasts…”
She nodded.
“Proud of your ass.”
She nodded.
“Proud that they’re so large and firm.”
Another frown flickered upon her face just not as strong as last time
“But I’m…”
“You have large firm breasts,” he said feeling his prick rise “perfect for nursing babies and of course you love giving such satisfying titty wanks.”
“I…I…do?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said “your breasts are big, and you love that fact. Love their weight, love how soft they are, proud of the roomy bras you wear to keep them in place!”
“I... I am?”
“Yes, you are! Say it!”
“I love having big boobs,” she replied as her small breasts rose like loaves in the oven “I love how firm they are. Love how soft they feel and…”
Her large breasts strained against her blouse. Her bra was almost torn by her new immensities.
Her face was expressionless, but her hands pressed her magnificent mounds together and flicked at the nipples poking from her shirt.
“Your ass?” he asked
“I love having a big fat ass,” she said almost giggling “and wide hips and…oh…”
Her hips widen which surprised Satyajit as he hadn’t even mentioned them, and her inflating ass strained against her skirt before tearing it open.
God she was sexy, he had chiselled away those imperfections on her figure but of course looks weren’t everything. No, a ball busting barrister wasn’t wife or mother material. She had to be remoulded a little more.
“Lindsey,” he asked, “What kind of person are you?”
“I’m a lawyer,” she grinned and even in her trance like state she seemed ready to snarl, “I’m proud of chewing people up and spitting them out. Christ nobody fucks with me.”
“Do you want a career?” he asked
“Of course,” she said, “I love my job.”
“No Lindsey,” Satyajit replied “a woman doesn’t want a career, you don’t want a career. You can’t stand your job.”
His prick tightened at this remark. Satyajit knew he should hate himself for saying something so blatantly sexist, but truth was it turned him on. God it felt so good and natural.
“You don’t want a career,” he repeated.
She frowned, mumbling something like a baby about to cry but he pressed on resolutely.
“Deep down,” he said “you’ve always wanted to be a wife and mother. Having a job? That’s a joke, a woman like you isn’t made for a career.”
She seemed to be sobbing, trying to hold onto the real her, but soon the stay at home wife would be the real her. Just ease her into her new role.
“Repeat after me,” he said “You love…”
“I love…”
“Staying at home.”
“S-staying at home…”
“You want to be a housewife.”
“I want to be…” she breathed in with some resistance but then breathed out in joy “to be a housewife.”
“You want children.”
“I want children.”
“You want a husband to support and love.”
“I want…” she said, and her voice swooned with desire “a husband to support and love.”
Good, the career woman was killed. He needed to make her a sweet submissive woman.
“You are a kind loving person.”
“I am,” she said more to herself than to him “a kind loving person.”
“You’re not rude or inconsiderate. You always want to make sure everyone around you is happy.”
She repeated this with a smile on her face.
“Rarely angry,” he said, “usually cheerful, always considerate. You’re a caring, loving woman who’ll make a fantastic wife and mother.”
She recited his lines in the throes of ecstasy.
Satyajit rubbed the sweat from his brow. He had seen the haughty bitch transform into a dream girl right before his eyes. All through the power of the medallion. He vowed to get his uncle a generous birthday present.
But…
She was oh so close to being his perfect woman, save for one nagging detail.
Living in England had robbed him of any taste for white women. Sure, before they had that certain exotic appeal and some imaginary scale of quality insisted that blonde women were the top trophy a man could achieve but Satyajit no longer believed that. He now longed for an Indian, a fellow native to join him in this foreign land.
God whenever he bumped into an Indian, it eased his home sickness.
“What is your name?” Satyajit asked.
“Lindsey Davis,” replied Lindsey
“It isn’t,” he retorted.
She frowned confused.
“Your name,” he gulped, one hand caressing his dick “is Priyanka Dutta.”
“My name is…is Priyanka Dutta” she said in her Chelsea accent.
Well her pronunciation was sloppy, but it would soon change.
“Where were you born?”
She spoke almost like a proud schoolkid getting a question right.
“Chelsea, London.”
“No,” he replied.
“No?”
“You’re from Mumbai, born and raised there.”
“I…I…”
“You are from,” he stated firmly “from Mumbai. You are Priyanka Dutta and you were born and raised in Mumbai, Maharashtra.”
“I…I…”
“Say it!” he demanded hoping this would work.
“I am Priyanka Dutta,” she said “I was born and raised in Mumbai, Maharashtra. I’m a proud native.”
What was that? Her English accent had simply melted away and her new Indian accent, too good, too authentic to be anything but the real thing eased Satyajit’s fears.
“Yes,” he panted “you were not raised Christian or anything, you were brought up in India, as a Hindu well…more a traditional Hindu then a religious one. Kind of like me but…but…”
He was getting off track, besides if there were a few bugs left then he’d iron them out at a later date.
“You,” he said “are not British, not white, you’re a proud native from India. You understand?”
“Yes,” said Priyanka with a smile “I am from India. Proud of my dark skin.”
Her skin, pinkish white, shimmered and darkened to a rich brown, tanned by an Indian sun.
“I am proud of my dark hair.”
Her blonde locks, so Aryan, likewise vanished to be replaced by black hair, combed and braided. God it was amazing how this worked.
“I am,” she stated “Indian.”
She said this with pride. Happy she was from that fine country, every inch a native and no sooner had she said this her Caucasian features were remodelled. Her nose lengthened, her eyes slanted slightly, and her lips thickened as she became even more beautiful than before.
God she was sexy, a first-class Asian knockout. Not a trace of that uppity English woman remained.
“I am Priyanka Dutta” she said
“Yes,” replied Satyajit nursing his erection via a hand in his pocket “You are! Ever heard of Lindsey Davis?”
“No,” she replied, “never heard the name before.”
“Priyanka,” Satyajit said almost weeping tears of joy “All you ever want to be is an Indian man’s wife.”
“That is true,” she said again and Satyajit was soothed by her accent “all I have ever wanted to be is a good wife to a strong Indian man.”
“And you are…” he said for one finishing touch “In love with me.”
“Yes,” said Priyanka “I am in love with my beloved Satyajit. It almost hurts how much we love each other. I want to be his wife and bear his children. He is a wonderful man who will provide for me and I know I will be safe and protected.”
“Good,” said Satyajit “You can wake up now.”
Priyanka blinked, and smiling at the sight of her fiancé, rose. Her tattered grey business suit had vanished and instead she wore an orange and pink dress that clung to her fantastic figure. Walking seductively over to Satyajit, she planted a kiss upon his lips and moaned as he crushed her against his body.
“Oh darling,” she sighed “tomorrow I’ll meet your mother and father for the first time. And you know I’m rather nervous that they may not like me.”
Satyajit grinned, knowing that this sweet submissive woman would get his old man’s approval, and his mother disliking foreigners would be happy that such a nice native girl had won her son’s heart.
“Oh, there’s no fear of that, they’ll love you I’m sure. You’re a wonderful woman.”
She purred, receiving any compliment from him made her heart glow. Priyanka stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before her hand drove into his trousers and firmly grasped his harden dick which had been screaming for release for quite some time.
“Well we’ll worry about them tomorrow. Right now, my love needs attention.”
She then sank to her knees and unzipping Satyajit’s fly, freed his large cock. Licking her lips, she took all of him into her mouth, making him gasp at her skill.
He grinned Cheshire cat style, felt his own knees weaken and as he slid down onto the carpet, Satyajit knew his life was going to be a lot better than before.
Soon he’d take his bride to be to their bedroom and fuck her silly, before drifting off into a blissful sleep, and tomorrow he’d ring up his uncle, thanking him for such a wonderful charm, knowing he’d be sure to pass along the gift to his future sons when the time came.