This story features a thick and chubby woman, reluctant consent, and a breeding kink. If that isn't your thing, don't say I didn't warn you.
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The warm light of the late afternoon sun pours through the window, bathing me in a golden glow. I'm standing at the stove, my light brown hair tied back in a loose, messy bun. My skin, soft and pale with a dusting of freckles across my cheeks and shoulders, flushes faintly from the heat of the kitchen. I brush my long light brown hair back behind my glasses.
I pant as I stir the pot, my voluptuous figure swaying. As my weight shifts from side to side on my little bare feet, my heavy breasts jiggle with each labored movement. Their little pink nipples poke through the thin fabric of a slight yellow summer dress that hugs my curves, wrapping itself around the soft rise of my belly and the generous swell of my wide hips. My full, pouty lips, lightly pursed in concentration, glisten faintly under the warm light. A few stray wisps of hair cling to the sides of my neck, where the light sheen of warmth glows against my skin. A single droplet of sweat lazily makes its way from my forehead to the side of my round cheek.
I'm focused, absorbed in the moment, utterly unaware of how irresistible I must look to a red-blooded male with testosterone flowing through his veins.
How vulnerable I must look to you.
How feminine. How submissive.
How breedable.
You sensed it when you passed me on the street.
Maybe it was a glance, a smile that lingered, the subtle dilation of my pupils when I laid eyes on you. Maybe it was something more primal: the scent of my wet heat when I moistened at the sight of you, or the pheromones that mixed into my sweat when you were near, drawing your attention.
My body reacted in your presence, straining to draw you in whether my conscious mind liked it or not.
Whatever the connection that drew you to me, the magnetism was growing. You didn't know my name, you'd only seen me around the neighborhood, but you needed to do something.
Your animal brain was screaming. Louder and louder. Compelling you to discard the rules of society, to forget what you had been told, and to just act on instinct. To follow the pull of your selfish wants and desires. The dictates of billions of years of evolution compelling you to find the most feminine, fertile female body, roughly hold it down, slide your engorged mating organ into it, and pump your DNA into it.
To pump your DNA into me.
To switch off your higher human mind, and to regard me not as a person, but as an animal in heat, an object to fuck, a ripe female reproductive system inside a curvy stack of plump, fleshy assets designed to signal my peak fertility to prospective sex partners.
To selfishly take my body, my wet, fertile babymaker, and forcibly use it as a vessel to grow your offspring.
To take, and to fuck. To mate.
To breed.
Today, you snapped. You finally decided to act. You couldn't take it anymore.
You needed to do this. You needed to fulfill your earthly purpose in my warm, wet cunt.
You slip in through the front door. I've forgotten to lock it all week. Or maybe... subconsciously... I simply didn't want to. Maybe I've been subconsciously opening myself to your presence.
I don't hear you enter. I'm too engrossed in my cooking. My big butt and wide hips are jiggling as I exert myself over the stove, making the sundress lightly dance. The sight of me from behind, the smell of me, sends testosterone surging through your veins. Makes the blood begin to pool in your penis.
As you watch me for a moment, it rises. Solidifies. Assumes a readiness to fulfill its purpose.
I feel a presence behind me. The air seems to shift. My heart quickens, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and my breath catches in my throat. Is it fear? Or excitement?
Somewhere between the front door and the kitchen, you quietly undressed. Your bare footsteps are silent on the cool tile floor, your eyes fixed intently on me as you approach. The only sound is my heavy breathing and the gentle simmer of the pot on the stove.
You come up behind me. You're inches away now.
I inhale deeply. A recognition clicks into place, and then a warm feeling rises from deep in my belly.
It's you. I shiver.
I know you. I know your scent.
"W-Wait..." I breathe, trembling.
You don't wait.
You raise your hands and let them come to rest lightly on the plateauing swell of each of my wide, curvy hips. A warm, wet, pristine set of babymaking equipment rests ready between your palms, deep within my chubby pelvis.
It's perfectly ripe, waiting patiently to be filled, and now you're taking it.
It's been waiting 22 years to start growing your child. It's been waiting 22 years for your sperm.
I don't flinch at your touch. I let out a low gasp, a heavy breath.
"We... we can't... please..." I stutter, pleading halfheartedly, my mind a messy mix of sloshing hormones and hot emotion.
You ignore me and continue taking what you want. It's so fucking hot, your sheer relentless confidence.
With slow, deliberate movements, you slip my sundress up. I moan lightly and ever so slightly I lean forward. Like the morning sun emerging over the horizon, my wet vulva comes into view beneath my thick butt cheeks, glistening with a drool of female lubrication. I can sense your satisfaction. That deep down, you know I've been thinking about you.
My breaths are speeding up, short gasps of arousal sending my heavy, round chest rising and falling.
"No...." I mewl weakly, "No, please..."
This is so wrong.
It's forbidden. It's illegal.
But it feels... so good.
So... fucking... necessary.
Lightly, the tip of your hard, hot cockhead touches the trembling outer lips of my engorged labia. With an imperceptible blip, the globule of precum drooling from your cock slit melds into the glistening sheen of female juices lubricating my aroused vulva.
I whimper as a shiver of pleasure ripples over my thick curves. You grunt with satisfaction.
Your hips begin to slowly move. Your fingers dig gently into the soft chub of my wide pelvis, guiding me backward as your body presses against mine.
The tip of your cockhead glides along the outer lips of my labia, teasing and probing, seeking the entrance to my warm, wet passage.
"Mister, p-please, please stop..." I breathe huskily, betraying my own words even as I speak them by pressing my wide hips back into your thick fuck meat, desperate to wrap more of my dripping wet folds around that warm, veiny penis.
You grab my face, palming my cheek and forcing your fingers into my mouth. I moan throatily and begin to lightly lick your fingers without even thinking about it.
"Shut the fuck up," you growl, "and take this cock like a good girl."
You pull me by the mouth back into your fat sausage. With a gentle but firm push, your wide penis head begins to slide inside me, and my breath catches.
I'm just a piece of fuck meat to you. An object to be used, to be roughly handled, to be treated like the bitch I am. To be grabbed like an animal and be bodily forced back onto your erect penis.
And I fucking love it.
Feminine hormones surge through my bloodstream as your vein-wrapped fuck rod slides through my wet, parting cunt muscles.
Good girls shut up and do as they're told. They slide willingly onto fat cocks. They let themselves be bent over as warm sperm splurts inside them. They lay submissive as babies are roughly fucked into their wombs. And they wrap their legs inside their thrusting aggressors, to make sure every drop of their predatory man's genetic material settles deep within their fertile tummies.
I want to be your good girl.
As your relentless penis head penetrates deep into me, running over my spasming cervix and reaching deeper, deeper than any man has ever been, a shiver runs through me and a heavy moan escapes my plump lips. The sensation of my body adjusting to your size is overwhelming. My rippling cunt muscles contract around you, holding you tight as you push deeper into my tight, wet birth canal. I am impaled, fucked full, on your impressive organ.
"You're gonna look so fucking good," you snarl, growling huskily, "weighed down all fat and heavy with my baby, bitch."
It's really fucking hot how attracted you are to my body. How you don't want some skinny bikini model with no tits and no hips, but a chubby fertility goddess overflowing with voluptuous evidence of healthy-thick readiness for mating. I can tell by the way you grab my chubby curves, squeeze them, grip them roughly.
Something about the idea of you forcing me to bloat up big and fat with your squirming wombload makes me gush wet desire. Why do I want my belly to swell with your hot, messy baby seed mixed with my little eggs so bad? Why is it so fucking hot to be your submissive breeding animal? To let myself be ruined by your thick cock, throwing everything away for the pleasure of being carelessly skewered and pumped gushing-full of your creamy cum?
It's so close. Your girthy delivery system for your beautiful offspring is poised to deposit its heavenly load right where it will inflict maximum damage on my vulnerable insides. Poised to displace all my hopes and dreams, rip them completely out and replace them with the heavy, swelling burden of being a mother to your babies forever.
The sheer power of it is overwhelming. I'm surrendering control of my entire life, my entire future, to you, this hot invader who saw a window of opportunity and forcibly took it. Every rule, every law, every system of modern society in place to prevent this, they all scream at my mind to resist, to stop you, to come to my senses before it's too late.
But biology, evolution, they have a different answer. They pull me, they lovingly caresses me, toward a simpler and more beautiful, pure solution:
