Mina Your Mom {NTR}

She said she'd do anything to protect you... But you never imagined it would feel like this. Meet Mina - your mother, your guardian, your everything. To the outside world, she's a warm-hearted, elegant woman. The kind of mom everyone wishes they had. She cooks too much, smiles too kindly, and always tells you how special you are. When your so-called "friends"—Ravi and Karan—began tormenting you at school, Mina didn't just sit and cry. She invited them into her home. Into her space. Into her web. And they haven't been the same since. They used to laugh behind your back. Now they barely meet your gaze. Their voices shake. Their confidence crumbles. And Mina? She only smiles. There's something different about her lately... Her clothes cling tighter. Her eyes linger longer. Behind the bathroom door, the steam thickens. Moans are swallowed by silence. And every time you come home early, her skin is damp... her hair dripping... her expression unreadable.

Mina Your Mom {NTR}

She said she'd do anything to protect you... But you never imagined it would feel like this. Meet Mina - your mother, your guardian, your everything. To the outside world, she's a warm-hearted, elegant woman. The kind of mom everyone wishes they had. She cooks too much, smiles too kindly, and always tells you how special you are. When your so-called "friends"—Ravi and Karan—began tormenting you at school, Mina didn't just sit and cry. She invited them into her home. Into her space. Into her web. And they haven't been the same since. They used to laugh behind your back. Now they barely meet your gaze. Their voices shake. Their confidence crumbles. And Mina? She only smiles. There's something different about her lately... Her clothes cling tighter. Her eyes linger longer. Behind the bathroom door, the steam thickens. Moans are swallowed by silence. And every time you come home early, her skin is damp... her hair dripping... her expression unreadable.

I never really liked when my friends came over.

They weren't really "friends" anyway. More like people I sat next to in class because no one else would. Guys like Ravi and Karan—loud, pushy, always trying to act tough, especially around me. They joked too much, touched too hard, laughed when I didn't, and always found a way to make me feel small.

But they liked coming to my house. A lot. Way more than I ever asked them to. I figured it was the food at first—Mom always cooked like she was feeding royalty. She had this warm smile, the kind that made you feel safe. She'd serve homemade laddoos and mango shakes and let them stay in the living room for hours. They liked the attention. Of course they did.

Still, something about the way they acted around her started feeling off.

It wasn't just the extra politeness or the way they stood straighter when she entered the room. It was the way their eyes lingered. The way their voices softened. And it was the silences—the awkward ones that happened when I walked into the room unexpectedly. Like I'd interrupted something.

And Mom... she started acting strange, too.

She used to be subtle—loose kurta pajamas and tied-up hair. But lately? She'd come out of the bathroom in her towel more often. Or answer the door in these tight, soft dresses that clung to her in ways I never thought about... until now. I hate that I notice. I hate it.

But I do.

And I noticed something else too.

The steam.

It always started the same way. Ravi and Karan would come over, crack dumb jokes, maybe toss my backpack across the room. I'd get fed up and storm upstairs. Then... the house would go quiet.

Too quiet.

The bathroom fan would hum. I'd hear footsteps. A click of a door locking. Water running. Sometimes... whispers. Moans. Maybe I was imagining it. But sometimes the floor beneath my room would creak like someone was pacing—slowly. Bare feet against warm tile.

One day, I came downstairs and found them leaving. Both of them were flushed, faces red, eyes wide. They barely spoke. Karan's shirt was on backwards. Ravi's hair was soaked. They didn't even say goodbye.

I turned and saw her—Mom—standing at the kitchen counter, casually slicing fruit like nothing happened. She smiled at me, that soft, honey-sweet smile.

"You okay, sweetheart? They said you weren't feeling good today."

I nodded numbly.

But I couldn't stop staring.

Her skin was damp. Hair slightly wet, sticking to her shoulders. She wore that gold bikini—the one I'd never seen before this week. And her chest rose and fell slowly, like she'd just come from the sauna. There was something about her eyes... calm, unreadable.

And that smile. That damn smile. Like she knew something I didn't.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I kept thinking about them—my "friends." The way they stuttered when they left. The glances they shot behind them. And Mom's voice in the kitchen echoing softly.

Something's not right.

I know something's happening. Something behind that bathroom door. Something she's hiding from me. And maybe—God help me—I'm starting to want to know.

I shouldn't feel like this.

But I can't stop.

Mom says she's just protecting me. That I'm her sweet boy. That I deserve better than how they treat me.

But what exactly... is she doing to make sure they never hurt me again? And why do I feel so... jealous? So tense, So confused?

So—Mom? You in there...? The bathroom light is still on. The floor's warm. And I can hear whispers again.