TRIGGER WARNING: This story will definitely not be to everyone's tastes. The author does NOT in any way condone the actions or attitudes that occur in this story. If you are offended by stories featuring rape and/or raceplay, READ NO FURTHER.
If not, please enjoy.
***
I awoke in the dead of night, lying on my side with one hand stretched out in front of me and the other cradling my belly. My gravid, 26-weeks-along belly.
It wasn't as much fun as pregnancy perhaps ought to be. My swelling stomach made me waddle like an obese duck, not to mention I could no longer fit into many of my old clothes. My ankles were swollen, my breasts had outgrown my old bras, and my nipples were more sensitive than usual. On top of all that, I was also unbearably horny.
Slowly and carefully, I propped myself up on all fours, giving my aching joints a few moments to adjust. This far along, I wasn't nearly as sexy and graceful as I had been before the attack, but I wasn't going to let it get me down; and I certainly wasn't going to let it stop me doing what I needed to do.
Propping myself up with one arm, I spread my thighs a little to adjust my posture and stretched my free hand down between them. My sex was already engorged and wet from my unfulfilled urges, and I could feel the moist juices run down my fingers. My fingertips traced a circle around my clit and I gasped as the pleasure spiked in my belly.
I hated my rapist with a passion; but in my mind, I could reimagine him. And reimagine him I did: as a vigorous lover claiming my cunt with each thrust of that wonderful cock of his. I scrubbed out the memories of his yellow fever and replaced them with a fabricated mental recording of my reimagined rapist letting out masculine grunts as he owned my pussy, grunting and ramming me like an enraged bull.
My breathing became laboured and my fingers accelerated their circling motions, frigging myself with wanton abandon. I pictured that powerful rod of male flesh fucking me hard, pistoning in and out as his potent nutsack slapped against my pubic area with each inward thrust. Before long, I could resist no longer.
My building climax reached its crescendo, blossoming in my crotch as I buried my face in my pillow to muffle the orgasmic cry that escaped my mouth. I felt my pussy contract and convulse, just the way it had when he had cum inside me. As I caught my breath, my innards felt as though they were rearranging themselves of their own accord.
I smiled to myself. It was the baby moving in response.
"Glad you enjoyed that as much as I did."
What kind of mother talked dirty to her unborn child? I was a little too wiped out to care, but not so wiped out that I wanted to stay in bed. My fingers were soaked in cunt juices, so I wiped them clean on the sheets before carefully climbing out of bed and waddling carefully to the bathroom. According to my alarm clock it wasn't even six in the morning, but I needed to pee yet again, so I may as well shower and get ready for the day ahead.
I emptied my bladder and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water pour down my skin, running in little rivulets across my pregnant belly. Contemplating the life growing inside of me, I remembered how it was conceived. My hormonal rollercoaster crashed and I began to cry.
I remembered all too clearly how this baby had been conceived. I remembered the sheer helplessness of being physically overpowered, I remembered his raping cock asserting a power over me that he had no right to claim, and I remembered his vile gloating as he filled me with life, indulging his racist fantasies at my expense. It seemed sick and absurd, but the best way I had found to deal with it was to come up with my own fantasies about it. That way, in the safety of my own mind, I could reclaim some of the dignity and power that he had taken from me.
Perverted fantasies were also a good coping mechanism for dealing with the fact that my own body had aided and abetted his assault. He had given me one of the most intense orgasms of my life that night, and he probably knew it. Given how he had taunted me about giving me a half-white baby, even the existence of the baby itself was technically an act of power over me.
At length, my tears subsided and my mood returned to normal. I finished up my shower and dried myself down. There was plenty of time to wallow in confused guilt; right now, I needed to get my shit together.
*
Having dressed myself and eaten breakfast, I sat down in front of my computer and got to work. GitHub was a fabulous site for computer programmers; why go into a big office at Google or Apple five times a week when you could earn just as much money freelancing from home? No daily commute or associated travel expenses, no annoying co-workers or stuck-up supervisors. Plus, with a little one on the way, working from home had parenting advantages as well.
One solid hour of work later and I was done with my latest project; debugged and uploaded. Another top-notch piece of work by Annie Chang. My commission on that would get me through the next few months, so I took a break. My new adjustable chair was so much better for my poor back and cumbersome belly, so I simply sat there for a few silent moments.
What kind of depraved crap would he have been watching to get hooked on Asians?
That thought popped completely unbidden into my head. It shocked me that I would wonder about something like that, but I couldn't unthink it. Yes, his racist fantasies were sick, and I ought to be offended and horrified by them; but the harder I tried not to think about it, the more the curiosity kept eating away at me. Eventually, I couldn't resist the urge any longer: I opened up a separate tab and googled "Asian porn".
