He was still young.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb smiled to himself.
No, even Vedic Monotheist Hindus are not as ultramodern as Ǻlī Al Wahāb himself and his friends were.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan thinks she is using Ǻlī Al Wahāb.
Well, let her.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar was still fucking Ǻlī Al Wahāb in his utmost feminine Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass.
Life is still stretched before Ǻlī Al Wahāb as a vast unchartered field, even its horizon lost in the distance.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb had been in Ved Nagar for ten years now.
The time had passed expediently.
Long Live Imām Muħammad Ħasan that dreamed of Ved Nagar.
The life anywhere else would have been immense problematic.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr was confident they would succeed eventually ultimately.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb had faith in Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr.
Muħammad Ůsmān’s ass was not as feminine before as it was now.
The ten years that passed have brought a miraculous change in their bodies.
None believed Muħammad Åbdullah when he told them that Assalāt, Salwāt, converted even a masculine body into a superb female body.
“It’s an anti-Islamic propaganda from the anti Musalmīn.” Imām Ůmar Fārūq had said, “For more than thirteen hundred years of Ummat-e-Muslimah we Musalmīn offered Panjvaqtah Namāz, five times Assalāt, Salwāt, yet our masculine bodies were never converted into female bodies.”
“How do you know?” Ǻlī Al Wahāb smiled bitterly.
“What do you mean?” all the three, Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr, Imām Ůmar Fārūq and Muħammad Ůsmān thundered at Ǻlī Al Wahāb simultaneously.*
Ǻlī Al Wahāb was prudent enough not to indulge in a harmful discussion with Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr, Imām Ůmar Fārūq and Muħammad Ůsmān ever.
He knew better.
Sheikħ Al Abu Bakr, Imām Ůmar Fārūq and Muħammad Ůsmān were not basically females in their male bodies, but Ǻlī Al Wahāb was.
He never enjoyed his male duties to his wife, Al Fātimah Al Wahāb.
He was very glad when his wife cuckolded him.
He always thought it was his actual dream life.
He loved his third position in the Triple of his wife, Al Fātimah Al Wahāb, Durgesh and himself.
He bubbled with pride when Durgesh fucked his wife Al Fātimah Al Wahāb keeping her on his nude Hindu lap, sitting on a chair.
His wife proudly used Ǻlī Al Wahāb as her pedestal, her footrest.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb loved it.
He himself too was proud of it.
Suddenly a sound penetrated Ǻlī Al Wahāb’s consciousness.
“To hell with Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah…We oppose Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah… To hell with Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah…We oppose Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah…”
It was rather soft and distant, but it brought him back to the present.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb’s legs involuntarily swerved and brought him over the low rise to the University Field.
It was used for ashvinātam sex calisthenics, sports and student oratory.
Despite immense oppositions and demonstrations from Pseudo Musalmīn, Muħammad Åbdullah had gradually, eventually, ultimately had cooperated with Ǻlī Al Wahāb in establishing a Triple University in Ved Nagar too.
He had ultimately managed to get the permission from the Ārsh Sadan of HVSI.
In the middle of the Field was a moderate sized crowd of students.*
They were chanting enthusiastically.
On a platform was someone, Ǻlī Al Wahāb didn’t recognize.
He was someone with a loud voice and a swaying rhythm.
It wasn’t Muħammad Yazdānī however.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb had never met Muħammad Yazdānī in person.
Yet, he had seen Muħammad Yazdānī on holovision a number of times here at Ved Nagar.
Ved Nagar was really a Dream City.
It had so many scientific gadgets there the rest of the utmost ultramodern cities too couldn’t afford to have.
Ved Nagar was a city of multi-millionaires at least.
There were too many billionaires, trillionaires, and zillionaires even.
The other cities didn’t have them in so many numbers.
They said Muħammad Yazdānī might destroy what Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had achieved with so nonstop tremendous efforts.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb never believed it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was really Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā herself, reincarnated.
That’s she had such a tremendous nonstop success.
An ordinary Musalmān Beauty couldn’t achieve what Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā herself, reincarnated, had done.
After all, how many such accomplished Musalmān Beauties Ummat-e-Muslimah had in its entire history, entire Al Tārīkħ Al Islam?
Yet, Ǻlī Al Wahāb paid close attention to Muħammad Yazdānī whenever Muħammad Yazdānī was on holovision.
Muħammad Yazdānī was large and smiled with vicious camaraderie, vicious comradeship.
He had thick sandy hair and light blue eyes.
His father was a South African Hindu and his mother was a Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty.
This speaker was however small, if anything─ thin, wide mouthed, dark haired and loud.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb wasn’t listening to the words, though he did hear the phrase ‘power from the females to males’ and many voiced shout in response.
Fine, thought Ǻlī Al Wahāb, but just how does Muħammad Yazdānī intend to win the great Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā herself, reincarnated?
Is Muħammad Yazdānī serious?*
Ǻlī Al Wahāb was at the outskirts of the crowd now.
He looked around to find out if there was someone, he knew.
He spotted Imrān Hāshmī.
He was Ǻlī Al Wahāb’s fan.
“Imrān,” Ǻlī Al Wahāb called out.
“Sir, Ǻlī Al Wahāb,” Imrān Hāshmī stared at him for a moment and recognized him with some effort.
Imrān Hāshmī had almost never seen Ǻlī Al Wahāb not being fucked in his ass by either Shankar Mahāpralayankar or Rājesh Rājpūt.
One or two times even while Ǻlī Al Wahāb was not enjoying either Shankar Mahāpralayankar’s Uncut Hindu Cock in his ass or Rājesh Rājpūt’s, he was licking his Panjvaqtah Namāzī extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān Houseladies’ Musalmān Cunts while Durgesh was still fucking them or had just fucked.
Imrān Hāshmī couldn’t remember, when in the recent past he had seen Ǻlī Al Wahāb alone, in this way.
He trotted over.
“Did you come to listen to this Pseudo Musalmān?”
There was immense hatred in Imrān Hāshmī’s voice for the Pseudo Musalmīn.
Despite the strict laws of never interference in other communities’ life, in Ved Nagar, the Dream City, the Muslim denominations had never stopped it altogether.
Every now and then, they were being punished by the Ved Nagar Administration, severely, for it.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb responded even more scornfully.
“Nonsense, I didn’t come here for any purpose but to find out what the noise was. Who the hell is he?”
Imrān Hāshmī smiled cheerfully, yet somewhat astringently too.
“Muħammad bin Qāsim. He is speaking for Muħammad Yazdānī.”
“I hear that,” Ǻlī Al Wahāb said bitterly as he listened to the chant again.
It began each time Muħammad bin Qāsim made a telling point, apparently.
Ǻlī Al Wahāb kept asking,
“But who the hell is this Muħammad bin Qāsim? I don’t recognize his name. What department is he in?”
“Because he’s not a member of the Durgesh Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā Triple University, sir. Muħammad bin Qāsim is one of Imām Muħammad Yazdānī’s mujāhidīn.”
Ǻlī Al Wahāb was more furious now.
The Couple bastards were always adamant to interfere with the Triples.
Did the Triples ever interfere in the life of the Couple bastards?
The Triples were always law abiding.
That’s why even Muħammad Åbdullah, the Commissioner of Police here at Ved Nagar, supported them in the Ārsh Sadan of HVSI.
The Triples were not only gays now.
They included the Bisexuals, gays, Cuckolds and Lesbians as well.
Now even the nudists and feminists were also joining the Triples.
“He isn’t a member of the Durgesh Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā University? Then who the hell has permitted him to speak here? He hasn’t any damn right to speak here without a permit. Does he have one, do you suppose, Imrān Hāshmī?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir, Kħalīfatul Musalmīn, Amīrul Mominīn.”
“Well then, let’s find out.”
Ǻlī Al Wahāb started into the crowd.
Imrān Hāshmī caught his sleeve.
“Don’t start anything, Kħātimul Kħulfa-e-Rāshidūn razī Allāhu tålā ånahunn.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s got goons with him.”
“For rough stuff, in case anyone tries anything funny.”
“That’s the main problem with these Pseudo Musalmīn bastards.”
“I beg your pardon, Kħātimul Kħulfa-e-Rāshidūn razī Allāhu tålā ånahunn.”
“The Pseudo Musalmīn bastards have never understood it’s not the reality of 1400 years ago anymore. The violence was effective only then. Not now any more. The humankind is living now in a far more advanced Multiverse.”
“That’s right.” Imrān Hāshmī chuckled, “But Kħātimul Kħulfa-e-Rāshidūnrzn is forgetting that’s why Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā herself, reincarnated, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has succeeded on the bastards Pseudo Musalmīn and still succeeding.”
Ǻlī Al Wahāb calmed down.
“That’s right. But it doesn’t mean we should keep them ignorant still now.”
“We can’t change them until and unless they don’t want to change themselves. We have Democracy here, ultimately, after all.”
Ǻlī Al Wahāb didn’t pay any attention to what Imrān Hāshmī said.
He was too irritated.
There were seven young men more behind Muħammad bin Qāsim, the speaker.
They were spaced rather widely, legs apart, arms folded, scowling.*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam