Hemant Ghotala awoke with a splitting headache, his mind a chaotic swirl of two lives colliding. The familiar yet alien surroundings of the Ghotala household confirmed it—he had been reborn as the show's bumbling son, Hemant. Memories flooded in: his previous life's obsession with the female leads, and the humiliating death at his father's hands. Revenge burned hot, but so did another desire. A glowing screen materialized before him. 'Reborn by error. Skill granted: Incident Maker. Think it, and it happens.' Hemant smirked evilly, testing the power immediately.
'Varsha!' came the call from the doorway. His 'mother,' the striking alien Varsha Ghotala, stood there in her elegant saree, strong-willed and sharp-tongued as ever. Hemant thought of an incident—an insect crawling into her clothes. Suddenly, she yelped, 'What the—there's something in my saree!' In a fluid, confident motion, she shed the garment right there, revealing her toned form, knowing Hemant was 'innocent' in her eyes. She swatted the bug away, her eyes flashing with irritation rather than shame. 'Don't just stare, help me redress. And wipe that look off your face.'
Hemant approached, his mind racing with lust, but he kept control. 'Of course, Ma,' he said innocently. Another thought: a tiny insect in her panties. Varsha gasped, her strong hands immediately messaging the area. 'This is ridiculous! Hemant, get it out—now!' She pulled him close, demanding assistance with the authority of a woman who knew her power. Hemant knelt, fingers carefully exploring to remove the intruder, the contact electric. Varsha's breath quickened, her body responding despite her iron will. 'This feels... unexpected,' she muttered, witty edge intact. 'If you weren't so clueless, I'd think you planned this.' Five minutes of tense, building contact left her flushed and panting, but she pushed him away. 'Enough. Go. I handle my own affairs.' Hemant left, her lingering heat fueling his next moves.
At Anna D'Souza's house, his skill activated again. Anna answered the door completely naked, her curvaceous frame on full display. She quickly grabbed a towel, strong and unapologetic. 'Hemant? What are you doing here?' He quipped, 'Anna didi, you're too curvy—nothing like Ma's impressive assets.' Her ego ignited, she dropped the towel defiantly. 'Excuse me? My figure is perfect. Come here and explain yourself.' Their witty banter flew: 'Ma's are heavy and responsive,' Hemant teased. Anna countered sharply, 'Mine are better—want proof?' She guided his gaze, her confidence radiating as tension crackled.
Later, Liza D'Souza found herself stuck in a window during an errand. A passerby helped in a charged way, but Hemant watched from afar, his skill orchestrating the scene. Liza's strong protests turned to moans as the encounter intensified, her resistance melting into enjoyment. Hemant smiled darkly and moved on.
At Lajjo Ojha's, the incident unfolded with her stripping boldly before him. 'Help me, Hemant—any way you can,' she demanded, her strength evident. Murlidhar sat oblivious with earbuds. Lajjo took charge, her dirty words flowing as she engaged Hemant fully, controlling the pace with fierce passion until both were spent.
Back home, Varsha was in the bathroom, massaging herself. Hemant entered casually. 'Urgent need,' he said. She allowed it, stunned by his size but maintaining composure. An incident struck—she jumped, impaling herself on him. 'Oh!' she moaned, then took control, riding with powerful rhythm. They moved together for an hour, her witty barbs mixing with pleasure: 'Don't think this changes anything—you're still my son.' Panting and sweating, they finished. Varsha fixed him with a fierce gaze. 'Tell no one. And you'll handle chores alone today.' Hemant left with a secret thrill, the story far from over.
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