Shreya was lounging on the sofa in her tiny crop top and short denim shorts, scrolling through her phone on a lazy Saturday afternoon. Her dad had left early for some urgent office work and wouldn’t be back till late night. The 22-year-old college girl loved these quiet hours — no one to nag her, no one to tell her to dress properly. The AC was on full blast, her smooth fair thighs stretched out, and her perky C-cup tits strained against the thin fabric.

The doorbell rang. Shreya sighed, assuming it was the delivery guy. She opened the door and froze. Four tall, muscular men in their late 40s stood there — Rajesh uncle, Sunil uncle, Manoj uncle, and Prakash uncle. All of them were her dad’s drinking buddies from the old days, broad-shouldered, beer-bellied but still strong from years of gym and manual work. They wore casual shirts and jeans, reeking of cheap perfume and confidence.