Barefoot Pregnant In The Kitchen

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:

Just give in.

Give in to my lust. Give in to my breeding kink. Give in to the fat cock embedded deep inside me.

Just take your warm load willingly and surrender to becoming your curvy, heathy baby factory.

It feels so natural. So right. You found me, you smelled my fertility. You took me. You forced that cock inside me.

You've proven you deserve to breed.

It's my role to submit.

I want it so bad. I want to let you make me your breeding slut. I want to sink into the warm, euphoric embrace of fulfilling my biological imperative. It would be so easy. It would feel so good. I should just let it happen.

You pull back, my cunt lips gently pulling at your withdrawing penis, rising and falling as they glide smoothly over the tangle of veins that cradle that gorgeous, girthy organ. And then you lean forward again, grunting gently, thrusting your thick meat tool back inside, making my pussy gush with another wave of wetness to welcome you.

I shiver with lustful delight. The temptation becomes all-consuming. It's no longer a dangerous, potent possibility. It's now fate. You've locked down this womb, and it's waiting to be filled with your genes.

I'm really going to do it. I'm really going to bend over for you and let you impregnate me.

You begin to settle into a rhythm. It starts slow, but slowly, gradually, becomes more and more intense. As if driven by a rising need.

The light touch of your hips against the fleshy softness of my chubby butt cheeks becomes a slap.

Plap. Plap. Plap. Plap.

Each thrust jiggles the soft, round flesh of my bubble butt. With each crisp thwack of hard, muscular hip against bouncing ass cheek, the spreading pussy juice makes a soft slapping sound. Your thick rod, thrusting deeply into my plump vulva, elicits a fresh gush of cunt nectar every time it drives itself back into the sopping vaginal muscles clenching together, emitting a satisfying squelch. Little flecks of oozing pussy juice are splattering all over us and onto the tile floor.

We don't care. Mating is meant to be messy.

My hands instinctively reach back, grasping at your hips to pull you deeper. My fingers dig into your skin, feeling the muscles beneath as you move. The sound of our heavy breathing fills the air, mingling with the simmer of the pot on the stove.

We're a pair of rutting animals, acting on instinct. On the deepest, most primeval need there is.

As you thrust deeper and deeper, my body begins to respond and push back, my hips moving in sync with yours. The friction builds, sending waves of pleasure through me as my orgasm builds. My breasts jiggle with each movement, my nipples rubbing against the fabric of my dress, adding to the sensory overload. You can see them bouncing and slapping against the counter.

Your hands move up my body, slipping under the hiked-up sundress to palm a heavy handful of my generously voluptuous breasts, and squeezing gently. Your thumbs brush against my nipples, sending a jolt of electricity arcing through me. I gasp, my head falling back against your shoulder as you continue to thrust into me.

Each thrust is faster and faster, building a deliberate rhythm that matches the pounding of my heart. I can feel you increasing your cadence based on my low moans. I start panting, my breath ragged, so you increase your pace in response.

You want us to erupt in climax together. I can feel it. It's so fucking hot. You want to imprint your claim on me, on my mind, by squirting a load of cum in my belly at the moment my orgasm peaks. You want me helpless to resist as you force the greatest pleasure of my life on me at the same moment you force your seed into my fertile little tummy. You want to take advantage of my psychology, to make me dependent on you.

God, I need it. I want to be slammed hard and fucking choked and injected with hot cream whether I like it or not.

And you're going to give that to me.

But not before you tease me some more.

Like an animal, you pull out of me, roughly grab me, and spin my thick body around. My soft butt pushes against the counter and my heavy breasts jiggle under my thin shirt and apron. I huff and look at you with a pout of my thick lips.

It's jarring. It's unexpected. I want more.

You look me up and down like an animal savoring its prey, caught and pinned down on the savannah, seconds before the feast begins.

"Weren't you even going to tell me your name, Mister, before..."

I spread my thick legs. A trail of frothy cunt juice oozes from my wet cunt, running down each inner thigh.

"...you squirt a load of cum into my belly?"

My innocent look betrays the playful goading behind the question. I know what you want because I want it too, desperately. I want you to cum inside me. I bite my lip.

You don't say a word, but you smirk, and glint of purpose flashes in your eyes.

Leaning forward, you slowly peel my dress off. I'm breathing hard, and you can feel it, hot against your hand as it undresses me, revealing every inch of my soft, fertile curves.

You push your muscular chest into mine, wrap your arms around my bubble butt, and with a grunt you lift me onto the counter. I feel the snort of your hot breath as you exhale, your testosterone surging as you lift your docile breeding vessel onto her makeshift mating pedestal. Exhilarated goosebumps race across my skin.

I want to be fucking used.

My thick ass plops onto the countertop. I'm dripping wet, and my nipples are rock hard, achingly ready to be filled with that thick, warm penis again.

But first, you toy with me.

Your hands spread my legs wider and you take a knee to lower your face to my wet vulva. I gasp and rock back onto the counter, supporting myself with my arms.

Your lips and mouth and tongue attack my soaking, fleshy folds with a fervor, licking me deeply. From ass to clit. Tasting me.

Your tongue enters me. I can feel a heavy exhale through your flared nostrils as my sweet taste fills your hungry mouth. Then your tongue finds my throbbing clit peeking out. You nibble, then lick, until you find my rhythm, my pressure. I close my eyes as moans and squeaks escape my throat, my lips trembling.

Louder and louder, as your rhythm rises. My increasingly ragged, wild moans tell you when you're doing it right, and then you lick harder, pressing your advantage. I need something inside me as I get closer and closer to cumming, and as if you can read my mind, you respond. You slip two fingers past my dripping wet cunt lips to fuck me, working my g-spot as your tongue works my clit.

My body begins to tense, so you know I'm close. You increase your pace in response. I begin to arch my back as every muscle in my body starts to contract involuntarily.

My hand is running through your hair as my eyes roll back, my soft thighs trembling as they squeeze your head. Light moans and gasps escape my lips.

Oh god... I'm... I'm so fucking close... you're pushing me over the edge...

...and there it is.

Fuuuuuuuck yessssssssss.

As the orgasm rolls over me in overwhelming, delicious waves, my gushing, puffy vulva rhythmically rocks against your face and hands, thrusting, wanting more, desperate to get you all of you deep into my tight, soaking cunt. Sloppy squelches of wet cunt juice, gushing from my gyrating crotch pushing into your face needily, drip down your jawline. My heat, my neediness, my searing desire to be bred, takes physical liquid form all over your face, and pools sloppily on the floor.

After minutes of thrusting, moaning, clenching my soft thighs into you, I finally began to relax and come down from the colossal orgasm.

Your head rises from between my shaking legs. I can tell you need more too.

I can tell you need to fuck again. I can tell you need to finish claiming me as your soft, chubby little breedslut. I can tell you need to fill my unprotected pussy up with your cum.

It's time to finish what you started. To fuck me pregnant.

Time to pound your little chubby 22-year-old slut silly until that thick baby batter flows deep into me, where I just can't help but let it take hold in my womb.

How can I resist? I want it so bad. My body wants it so bad. Deep inside me, it's plopped out a little egg, waiting patiently inside me for your sperm. Whether I like it or not, my body chose you as a daddy for my babies. I'm utterly helpless to resist my own ovaries.

You and I both know if you spurt your cum into me, my body will betray any doubts or fears from my rational mind. It'll just push them aside, ignore my pleas, and help pump your swimmers deep into me. As I worry, it'll gently and mindlessly push them toward that waiting egg, working my cunt muscles with singleminded focus. It'll dutifully plant your seed deep in my womb, and start growing our child inside me.

Why fight it? It's so much easier just to give in. To surrender to my deepest and most achingly instinctive desires. Billions of years of evolution have built my body to be the perfect little baby factory for you to hold down and roughly fuck your warm nut butter into.

It feels so fucking good to just... give in. Let it happen. Take your cock and be bred.

You can see in my eyes I want it too, and you take control.

You spread my legs again and, leaning against the counter, slip that delightfully thick fuck meat into me again, entering me, stretching me. I gasp and clutch your head. I'm so wet that it's easy for you to go deep.

But you push deeper still.

My hips rock back, pushing my butt against the counter over and over, as you begin fucking me rhythmically.

Plap. Plap. Plop. Plap.

My breath is hot with desire against your ear. You can hear my body respond as your thrusts get harder, faster, more deliberate.

As your pace gradually builds, my breathing changes. Gets ragged. Moans melt into squeals. I'm losing control of my voice, of my hips, of my entire body.

Losing control to the force of your animal mating lust.

Plaplaplaplaplap!