As Bhanu woke up he found himself in his home. He groaned, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. He reached for his spectacles, blindly patting the table beside his bed. “My glasses... where are my glasses?”
He stumbled to his feet, the world a blurry, indistinct mess. He shuffled towards the small, dilapidated washroom, hoping a splash of cold water would clear the fog. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine.
He reached the washroom, the cracked mirror reflecting a distorted version of the world. He leaned closer, squinting, trying to decipher the image. And then he froze.
The reflection was… wrong. A gasp escaped his lips, a sound foreign and fragile. Staring back at him wasn't Bhanu, gawky and awkward, with his perpetually smudged spectacles and unruly hair. Instead, a girl gazed back, a vision of breathtaking beauty.
Bhanumati!!
Her skin was the color of polished sandalwood, smooth and luminous. No trace of the sun-baked roughness that had always characterized Bhanu’s face. Her eyes, previously hidden behind thick lenses, were now pools of deep, hypnotic brown, framed by long, impossibly dark lashes. They weren't just beautiful; they were knowing, holding a depth that suggested secrets and untold stories.
Her nose, once snub and unremarkable, was now delicately sculpted, adding a touch of aristocratic grace to her features. Her lips, full and ripe, were the color of crushed berries, curving in a subtle, almost mischievous smile. Her hair, thick and black, cascaded down her shoulders in waves, catching the first rays of the morning sun and shimmering like liquid obsidian.
The coarse, shapeless clothes Bhanu had worn were now draped on a body that had been molded anew. Her shoulders were slender and elegant, her waist impossibly narrow, and her hips curved with a captivating, feminine sway. The transformation was absolute, a complete and utter dismantling of everything he knew himself to be.
Bhanu – no, Bhanumati – reached a trembling hand towards the mirror, her fingertips brushing against the cool glass. The image mimicked her movement, the beautiful stranger mirroring her every gesture. Panic welled up inside her, a tidal wave of fear and confusion threatening to drown her.
“This… this can’t be happening,” she whispered, her voice a hesitant, unfamiliar cadence. It was a voice that was both alluring and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the gruff, boyish tones she remembered.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in her chest. She stumbled back from the mirror, her legs shaky and unsteady. She caught herself on the rough-hewn wooden frame, her knuckles white.
The world swam around her, the familiar surroundings suddenly alien and threatening. How could this be real? Was she dreaming? Had the leftover alcohol from the previous night finally driven her mad?
But the reflection in the mirror remained, a constant, undeniable proof of the impossible. Bhanu, the village boy, was gone. And in his place stood Bhanumati, a creature of startling beauty, forced to grapple with a reality far stranger and more terrifying than anything she could have ever imagined. The deal Madhu had struck with Maya, the shimmering seducer, had, in its own twisted way, begun to unravel the very fabric of their small, unsuspecting village. And Bhanu, now Bhanumati, was the first, terrifying thread to be pulled.
He reached out, fingers trembling, and brushed a strand of long, dark hair from his face. It was impossible. Utterly, horrifyingly impossible. Last night, he was Bhanu, a burly lad known for his loud laughter and even louder singing. Now, staring back at him was Bhanumati – a girl with wide, fearful eyes and the faint curve of c cup breasts.
A strangled scream ripped from his – her – throat. "Aaaah!"