My eight-inch cock throbbed, trapped and straining in my slacks. Eight inches of eager man-flesh, three inches in girth. A baking-hot salami sat atop a pair of nuts as wide as basketballs and fit to burst. I'd always been a big boy, and I hadn't had any in three months.

The object of my current affections, my angel, my fatfuck sow princess was splayed on her back at the edge of the examination chair. Wheezing for breath. Sweating like the pig she was. Massive. Pendulous belly sagging out of the bottom of her pink, frilly Dora shirt. Pale blue shorts riding low on her enormous ass. Her tits, massive and wobbling in time with her heaving breathing, sat heavily at either side of her gut like mountainous monuments.

“Okay 'Dad,' time for the, er... 'privates' part of the checkup.”

“O-oh my, of course doctor, whatever you, er, need...” Queasy. Weak. Obedient. Even more of a pig than she was. He was the very reason I was about to breed his ten year old, four hundred and thirty eight pound daughter. Was about to fuck her brains out. As soon as the door shut behind him I made my move – no need to lock up. He'd be gone until he was sent for.

I helped roll her onto her side, her huge belly drooped over one edge of the exam chair and her colossal backside sagged over the other. I pulled at the hem of her shorts, the fabric thin and difficult to move. It caught and tugged at her copious fat, but I didn't stop until they hung useless about her ankles. Panties next, cheap and massive, bought undoubtedly as surplus and at a store meant for older women – they simply didn't make children's clothes this big. Children weren't meant to come in this size.

My 'little' pig gasped as I clawed her shirt up, her tits wobbling in the open air. Soft. Giving. Luscious. Her nipples were like tea-saucers, their skin silky and sweet. Heaven in my mouth. She moaned – didn't know what was happening, but she sure enjoyed it.

No longer in control of my wits. I needed her. Needed to hear her as I took her for my own. My own bottoms and underwear were nearly as difficult to contend with – my endowment could be as much a curse as a blessing. But after a few moments it was free, free as she was.... I aligned myself. She was moist. My teeth flashed in an angry grin, a victorious grin, and I rammed myself home. 

She bellowed a glass-shattering squeal as I began to jackhammer her tight, until-recently virgin cunny. After a few quick repetitions, her inexperienced parts had slicked my well-traveled ones with copious amounts of honeysuckle-juices. I roared. Masterful. Dominant. Her horrendously obese form shuddered at my advances like a dike battered by a relentless hurricane. Squealing. Screaming. No words, just guttural sounds; prolonged grunts as I dragged my meat-log cock back out until only the very tip remained. Another high-pitched swine-shriek as I reamed her good once more.

I bred her brutally for thirty-six minutes, and not for a single second did my girl fail to squirt against my hips. Barbaric. Fierce. Unstoppable. I fucked her and fucked her and still she squealed, still she drove me on – and when my time finally came, I came literal buckets directly into her spent yet still-tight pussy. My cum sprayed from between us in high-pressure jets, splattered the floor and the counter beside us. Swirled as it gathered around my ankles.

I screamed with the release, and as my climax waned I smirked down at my pig. At her ham-fat arms. At the half-dozen hormone patches there which I had prescribed her. Which her father had so obediently and unknowingly applied daily for three months. I smirked at the subtle signs, the light trickle of breast milk from her swollen, mammoth breasts. The light peach-fuzz of body hair.

It had been a glorious breeding, and I could feel in my very bones that it had taken.