1 comments/ 44405 views/ 8 favorites You Can't Fight Biology By: Magister_Lewdi I. How I got into this It's not every day you meet a pregnant man. Well, I guess I don't look much like a man, anymore. Anyone would take me for a not-very-pretty woman with a huge belly and a couple of big, soppy boobs. I might be due any day now, for all I know. I haven't been counting. Well, pull up a chair and I'll tell you how it happened. I probably had this coming. What I did was very wrong, and while the punishment is bizarre, I can't say I don't deserve it. But my wife and daughter should not have had to pay for my mistakes. I guess you could call the whole thing a tragedy. I was a married man, and more or less happy. We had one daughter, Ellen, eighteen years old, in her last year of high school. My wife Annie was as pretty and sexy as any man could want. We'd been together, off and on, since high school, and though I truly loved her, perhaps I did not fully appreciate her. She was ripe and curvaceous, and we had a lively and imaginitive sex life; but, as shallow as it sounds, I always wished she had bigger breasts. Like a lot of guys, I had a thing for a big bust...which is kind of ironic, if you look at me now. But she had a winning smile and a good heart, and I can tell you in all honesty I never intended to cheat on her. But I guess when it came down to it, I was too weak, or too stupid, to turn down sex when it was offered. It happened one weekend while Annie and the kids were out of town, visiting her mother in New Mexico. In those days, we lived in a nice suburb. Our neighbour on one side was a pleasant elderly widow. On the other, was a childless couple who mostly kept to themselves. The neighourhood gossip was that he was some kind of scientist, an experimental biologist working for the government. He did not seem to be on a first name basis with anyone. All we knew was that his name was Dr. Mueller, a craggy, scowling man with no time for small talk. His wife was the very opposite. She was what you might call a babe, and much younger. She can't have been more than twenty, a natural blond with wide, bright eyes and the sort of perfect skin you only see on the very young. And yes, don't worry, I was just about to get to it...she had big boobs. Really big, actually, if you looked closely. I guess I did look as closely as I could, when I happened to catch sight of her working in the garden, or getting in and out of her little red car. I had never spoken to her before that weekend. It was a warm, spring day, and I was on the back patio sipping a coke and reading a spy novel, when she called out to me from across the yard. I looked up. She was waving to me from the back door, in light-coloured shorts, a ribbed cotton tank top stretched out rather alluringly by her full breasts. What she wanted to know was, would I be willing to come over and help her hang a mirror? I certainly would. In fact, I was over there like shot, and soon found myself in the downstairs guest bedroom of their house, holding a mirror up against the wall. She stood behind me, saying things like, "A little higher...no lower...down on the left," and was kind of enjoying our little interaction. Not in a creepy way, mind you...I was just foolishly pleased to help a pretty girl. But then I happened to look into the mirror and got a bit of a shock. I her reflection in it, standing behind me. She had one hand cupped over her left breast, and she seemed to be squeezing a nipple through the fabric of her tank top. Her other hand was done inside the elastic waistband of shorts, and she was moving it up and down in a rythmical way. Fortunately, I did not drop the mirror, but I did set it down very quickly. "Excuse me," I started to say, "maybe I had better..." She cut me off. "I'm sorry. How embarrassing. I must look totally stupid. I'm not like this, usually. In fact, I'm pretty sure this is because of the pills my husband gives me. I think he's been giving them to me in secret, slipping them into my food. They make me sort of...vague and distracted. And...needy." It was a weird story, and I should have had the sense to back away. But of course I found it kind of titillating, as you probably would, too. "Wow," I said, "I'm pretty sure that's illegal. Maybe you should call the police." "Oh, I could not do that. Anyhow, he takes care of me, and I do love him. Even if he is giving me some...some vitamins, or whatever. I'm sure it won't do me any harm. He is a doctor of biology, you know." Then, she reached out and took my hand and lifted it up to breast, pressing the back of my hand into her soft bosom. I did not resist. Through the skin on my knuckles, I could feel the stretched cloth of her tank top, her nervous breathing, the slight dampness of her skin where her collar opened into her cleavage. She started sliding my hand down her body, over the roundness of her belly, past the elastic waistband of her pants. She turned my hand around, and pushed my palm firmly against the soft swelling of her vulva. Then, she gasped weakly, and I thought she was about to faint. And, instead of pulling my hand away, as I ought to have done, I began moving it slowly up and down. She moaned very softly. After that, we sort of fell over onto the guest bed, and began clawing off our clothes. When she was quite naked, I had to pause for a moment and take in her alarmingly perfect young body - the trim waist opening onto the ample hips, the softly swelling, and slightly pendulous, breasts, the little triangular puff of blond hair over her vaginal opening. My own clothes came off in a flash, and my thin, hard cock was practically jumping up and down. I crossed the point of no return without so much as a backward glance. Kneeling on the bed, between her legs, I plunged forward and pushed my cock in that little tuft of hair. To my surprise, she climaxed right away. I felt her muscles stiffening beneath me, and a flurr of little in her labia wrapped snuggly around the shaft of my penis. Startled by the suddenness of it, I paused for a moment, wondering if I ought to carry on. Then instinct got the better of me, and I began tentatively sliding my penis in and out. Within a few seconds, she came again, with a long sigh. Now I began pumping with a vaguely panicked feeling, desperate to reach the finish line. Eventually, I came as well, and she orgasmed for a third time with a sort of triumphant moan. I felt my sperm spurting into her in four long pulses, and then I collapsed weakly over her little body, panting as if I'd run a mile. I realized, to my horror, that I had just fucked a...well, a kid, really. She was barely out of her teens, and married, too. Mortified, I had a sudden fantasy that I could take the last ten minutes back, the desperate fumbling sex, that incriminating white dribble of sperm caught in the pale tufts of hair around her little cunt. I gathered my clothes and rushed to get dressed, stammering out apologies like an idiot. She said nothing at all. Her eyelids were closed, and she looked as calm as can be. "Thank you," she said, at last. "That was not your idea, but it helped me a lot. My husband can't ever know about this, and I have to ask you not to tell anyone, ever." That request suited me very well. Before leaving, I swore to her that I would never reveal to anyone what had happened. Then, I fled the scene like a criminal, and returned to the unnatural silence of my home. 2. The Doctor begins his Revenge Months passed, and nothing changed. My sweet, lively daughter got up every morning and went to school. I threw myself into my work, and my wife Annie was as kind and loving as ever. I suppose that, having come so close to ruining our relationship, I appreciated her a bit more, and maybe treated with a bit of extra tenderness. Our family life was better than ever. And of the "girl next door"-I didn't even know her name!-I saw nearly nothing. I saw the back of her head once, as she drove off with her husband. Once I cauht her silhouette in the side window of their house. So, it came as a surprise when I looked out, one sunny morning in early fall, and saw her on her knees in the back yard, with a hand spade, digging in the garden. Against my better instincts, I allowed myself to stare at her backside for a while as she worked, soaking up the picture of her beautiful, ripe hips and the plump cleft of her butt. But when she stood up and turned around to brush some crumbs of soil off her workclothes, I startled to see a distinct roundness under her apron, and an added heaviness in her bosom. She was pregnant. I was knocked back by a wave of panic. Was the baby mine? I had a sudden impulse to run out and ask, but suppressed it. After all, there was no reason why it had to be my child she was carrying. Why shouldn't a young married woman be pregnant? It was the most normal thing in the world. In any case, she seemed quite serene, even happy, bending over in the garden to scoop up her tools, moving slowly, expertly working despite the awkward bulk of her big belly and heavy tits. I was very worried by what I had seen, but I decided to do nothing about it. I convinced myself that she would have her baby, that her husband would raise it as his own (which it probably was, in any case!). I did my best to put it out of my mind. But one morning, as I walked out ito the driveway to go to work, everything went dark. I felt a cloth bag closing around my head, and gagged on the sweet reek of anesthetic as I fell to the ground. I have no idea how long I was unconscious. I've tried to work it out, since then, but I have so little to go by. Certainly, I was in some sort of drug-induced coma for a very long time...days or weeks at least. I came close to waking up a few times, and dreamt constantly...strange, hallucinatory dreams, disturbing and intense. It might have been as long as a month, before I woke up with a clear head, in a clean, quiet room surrounded by white curtains. I pulled myself up in bed, and looked around me. Was this a hospital? It looked a bit like one. Had I been in some sort of accident? Had I been...in surgery? With that thought, I panicked and yanked back the sheets to check out my body. I was relieved to see that everything was still there: no missing legs, no new stiches or scars. I palpated my torso, and ran my hands over my face, which felt a bit stubbly, but otherwise normal. I seemed to be OK, but I knew I had better get out of there. I felt a bit light in the head as I started climbing out of bed. My bare foot had just touched the ground when the door opened and in came a black-haired man with heavy eyelids and an unmistakeable scowl. Dr. Mueller, husband of "the girl next door." I knew then that this was not going to end well. Behind him was a bustling, efficient-looking young woman in a crisp garment. A nurse, it seemed. "Ah," she said rushing over to my bedside, "you're awake. Please don't try to stand, you'll find your legs are still weak. It will be a day or two before you are fit to move around again." Indignation rose up in me, and I grabbed at her sleeve. "What is this about?" I demanded. Then a bad idea crossed my thoughts. "My daughter, my wife..." This time, it was Dr. Mueller who spoke. "They're fine. Better than ever, I would say, noticeably improved. Not that you have any right to know." He looked at me sharply. "And unless you would like to see them hurt, I recommend that you do not say another word." He raised a finger and looked at me over the rim of his glasses. "You will exactly as you are told, or the consequences will be on your head." He turned his attention to the nurse at his side, and gave her some instructions in a voice too low for me to hear. Then, they both left the room, and I heard the soft click of the door being latched from without. They kept me in that clean, comfortable prison for another few days, during which my strength returned to me. I forced myself to be quiet, and compliant, for now. The nurse came in at intervals to feed me, and see that I was comfortable and healthy. She even brought me some books and old magazines for my entertainment. Whenever she was out of the room, I practised walking, and I could feel my strength coming back. By the third day, I resolved that the next time she came in I would overpower her and make my escape. However, the next time the door opened, it was not the nurse who came in, but two large men, who grabbed me quite roughly. I struggled as well as I could, but they soon manage to wrestle me into handcuffs, and to strip off my clothes as well, so that I was naked, exposed and entirely in their power. What the doctor had in mind for me, could not even imagine. The two men led me out of the room, and prodded me from behind, none too gently, taking me down the hall to a much larger room, with soft carpeting on the floors and comfortable chairs all around. There was a large structural post in the middle of the room, and they fastened me to this by means of a short chain. Several minutes passed. The air in the room was warm, but I shivered at the thought of what dreadful things they might be planning to do to me. I was expecting physical harm, further humiliation, possibly even torture. What actually happened next was something I did not imagine at all. The door of the room came open, and a larger group entered. At the front of the party was a familiar face: the "girl next door," now hugely pregnant and dressed only in an oversized T-shirt, with little wet spots over each nipple. She looked fixedly at the floor and would not even glance in my direction. Next, came the scowling doctor. Then, two more figures swept in: the prim nurse who had brought me my dinners, and a much shorter female whose face was hidden by a curtain of reddish brown hair. It was a young girl, I could see, very short...perhaps five feet tall, with short, childish arms and- as I could see, even from here-extremely large breasts. She was wearing nothing but a loose-fitting top, and a pair of white cotton panties, under which were a pair of girlishly plump, bare legs. She lifted her head, and turned to look at me, and with a terrible shock I recognized the face. It was my own little girl, my darling daughter. But cruelly transformed. "Look what they did to me she wailed mournfully, tears springing to her eyes. "They made me into a cow...and they even won't let me shave." She glared angrily down at her white panties, and I could see a little fringe of dark pubic hair peeking out over the elastic. Now the tears were streaming down her face, and she gave a pathetic cry as the nurse began to unbutton the loose shirt from behind and pulled it away. Her breasts were simply huge. What monstrous procedures had they used to cause such a dreadful transformation? Her breasts hung heavily in front, swaying slightly from side to side as the poor girl sobbed. I was aghast. "My poor baby," I called out. I turned angrily to Mueller. "What have you done to her? The girl was innocent! She's done nothing wrong." "And we have not harmed her in any way," he said. "She is certainly no worse off than my lovely wife. Who seems to be, as you must have noticed, in the family way." He gestured with his chin toward the "girl next door now slumped miserably in a chair at the far end of the room. Then he turned back to my daughter. "Finish removing her clothes he said. And the nurse pulled out a pair of scissors and neatly snipped the panties free, exposing a shocking triangle of dark black hair. The girl tried to cover it with one of her hands, but could not conceal her shame. "Now, have her assume a receptive position," said the doctor. The nurse pushed Ellen down on all fours, like an animal. Now, her tits dangled down in front between her short arms, the nipples just brushing the carpet. I looked over at the doctor, and saw, to my horror, that he was removing his own pants, in a slow and methodical way, folding them carefully and placing them on a smal table. His penis sprang up, as if from nowhere, and a horrible huge thing it was. He was far bigger than a normal man, and correspondingly thick. "As you see," he said "I am not unwilling to use such biological enhancements on myself. My methods are experimental, but perfectly safe. A carefully calibrated mixture of hormones has made a fine young woman of your daughter. And I have found another formula to enhance my own...qualities." He moved behind my daughter, who was still cowering and sobbing on all fours. Then, he knelt down behind Ellen, took his massive organ in his hand and began pushing it into her vagina from behind. "Daddy, make him stop!" she cried. I lunged against my chains. I had to put and end to this. A curse sprang to my lips, but by then he had already plunged his oversized stiffness into her. All I could do was close my eyes in anger and dismay. She shrieked, as if she had been struck with a whip. He pushed again, and she cried out again. Then he began thrusting into her, and with every thrust, she sobbed more loudly. And with each thrust, her huge tits swung and wobbled between her tiny arms, the nipples brushing against the harsh fibres of the carpet. Slowly, I could see those nipples become hard and erect. And gradually, as the thrusts continued, her sobs turned to astonished gasps; then the gasps turned to little grunts, which turned at last to moans of pleasure. And soon, my little daughter was crying, "Uh! Uh! Uh!" in rhythm with the repulsive pushing. The tears were gone, now, and the pitiless doctor kept thrusting, and thrusting. I called out, "Be brave, dear, you will survive this!" But she did not seem to hear me at all, for at this point my little girl made a particularly loud moan, and I could see that she was arching her back, and pushing against her attacker with something almost like enthusiasm. She made a little cry that sounded almost joyful, and then her whole body began to shudder and quake as she experienced what may have been her first orgasm. And then the doctor climaxed as well, and as he did so his scowling face reddened slightly and the veins in his neck stood out. For the first time, I noticed the pair of big, heavy balls swinging under his genetically enhanced prick, and realized that he was, at this very moment, pumping his foul sperm into my sweet little girl. She had started sobbing again, with her arms crossed over her huge tits, but now they were tears of satisfied exhaustion, mingled with something a bit like ecstasy. When he had finished filling my daughter with his hideous sperm, the doctor pulled out and put his clothes back on, calmly stuffing his fat dangler back into his pants and cinching up his belt. Then he looked over at me, and it was only then that I became aware of an embarrassing fact. There I was, naked, and handcuffed to a post, and my own erect penis was sticking right up between my thighs. It was a rather small thing, compared to Mueller's, but it was as stiff as a little carrot, bobbing up and down irrepressibly. I could do nothing to hide it. He spoke to Ellen, now. "Your father seems to have enjoyed this almost as much as you did. Now, go put your hand around his little thing." Ellen looked at him with horror and dismay, but he did not relent. "Do as I say, or you will regret it." She shuffled over to me, her arms crossed over her breasts, trying to hide them as well as she could. I could do nothing but sit there, with my stick poking up. "Touch it he said. She reached out, very tentatively, and wrapped her fingers around the end of my prick. I tried to force my thoughts elsewhere, but my penis twitched and shook, in her hand, and I could do nothing to prevent what happened next. A glob of semen shot out, and landed on her knee. Then, a second spasm took me, and another string of sperm shot out. This one went further, landing right over the nipple of her left tit. The third spasm produced a slow flow of semen that spilled down the shaft of my penis and all over her tiny fingers. You Can't Fight Biology "I'm very sorry, Daddy," she said. And they led me back to my room. 3. His revenge unfolds The very next day, I was taken to the same place, and once again chained to the post. The "girl next door" came out, as before, with Mueller right behind her. As before, they were soon followed by the nurse and another young woman dressed only in in silk panties and an underwired bra. I recognized her instantly, although she, like my poor daughter, had clearly been receiving the benefit of the doctor's treatments. It was my wife, Annie. She looked healthy, with good colour in cheeks and her usual kind smile, although her appearance was a little altered. I am not an expert in breast sizes, but I suppose the enhancements had increased her size to something like a 34H or 34J cup. She looked across the room at me, and a curious pitying expression crossed her face. Briefly, I wondered whether I was becoming erect again, but looking down I saw that I was still respectably limp, though naked. At the doctor's command, the nurse scissored my wife's bra strap, and her new tits spilled out over her chest. Then, she cut off the panties, exposing a rather lush plot of pubic hair in an area my scrupulous wife normally kept shaved. And I resigned myself to the horrible certainty that the doctor would rape her as he had raped my little daughter. What happened, however, was much stranger than that. The doctor issued some sort of command, and presently the door opened once again. A male youngster came in, a wiry, a skinny little brat, and I wondered for a moment whether he was about to be raped as well. But then, he bent over with a jaunty, impudent, manner and whisked off his own pants. The half-erect cock that popped out of his white briefs was another of Mueller's experiments, evidently: a big hairy cock, a couple of inches longer than my own, and as fat as a rolling pin. As I realized what was about to happen, my eye wandered down to the scrotum under his now-tumescent penis. The balls dangled heavily, wreathed in a faint fuzz of light-colored hair. By now, my wife was already lying on a floor mattress, face up, with her legs spread. I looked at her face, expecting an expression of fear or disgust, but she looked merely expectant and even, though I could scarcely imagine why, somewhat eager. Perhaps she had been drugged with the same aphrodisiac that had made the "girl next door" so forward. In any case, she did not seem unhappy at the way thing were unfolding. The kid eyed her with a greedy leer, with his outlandish prick almost touching his pointy chin. As young as he was, he seemed to know exactly what to do next. He took his long cock in one hand, and sort of lay down over my wife's big, soft body, forcing his monstrous prick into her womanly curves. He was not very tall, so his head barely came as high as her shoulders. He buried his face between her big, wobbling tits and gave a hard push. As he entered her, she made a little sound of surprise, sort of an "Oh! as if this is not quite what she had expected. Then the kid got busy, his narrow back and skinny buttocks going up and down, very capably. Within a few seconds, she was groaning and writhing, and soon she was hissing out little swear words under her breath and clenching her hands at her sides. Whenever he lifted his skinny back, I had a clear view of his dangling balls and the base of his cock. A hot jealous anger rose in me and I tore at my chains. But I could only watched helplessly, while this insolent youngster made my wife come, and then made her come again and again, loudly and without restraint. It went on like this for a very long time, and I lost count of the number of times she announced the arrival of another orgasm with a series of gasps and that little girlish cry that I knew so well (though I had never heard it so many times on one day!). And then he came too. Apparently, the kid's "enhancements" included the ability to pump out ridiculous quantities of sperm. It spurted into her in such abundance that it spilled out around the shaft of his cock, and poured down her thighs. Then he pulled out, and shot one final long string of semen up her belly and over her breasts. He seemed very pleased with himself, as he put his clothes back on. He kept glancing over at my wife and chuckling. By now, my dick was hard and throbbing, as before. From across the room, I saw Annie looking directly at it with an expression of disapproval, and I was filled with shame. It was not just my obvious arousal that embarrassed me, but the relatively small size of my stiffy, poking up like a little breadstick. I had never thought of myself as having a small penis, nor had Annie ever complained about it. Now, I longed for her to come over and take it in her hand and finish me off. But her attention had already wandered admiringly back to the youth, now stuffing his soft thickness back into a pair of boyish briefs. And this time the doctor offered me no relief, but sent me back to my room with my prick still sticking up, and my hands still handcuffed behind me. It was a very long time before the erection subsided, and longer still until I found sleep. 4. The Final Humiliation At this point, I assumed Dr. Mueller had done his worst, having raped, and no doubt impregnated, both my daughter and my wife. I expected I would be released now, and sent home to meekly raise the progeny. Alas, I was not so fortunate. I remained their prisoner, and as the days went by, I began to see signs of transformation in myself...a soreness in the chest, a tenderness around the armpits. I realized, with a growing anxiety, that they were giving me drugs, and probably had been since they day they had brought me to this wretched place. I tried refusing food and water, for a while, but it did not help. Every night I would fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when I awoke the transformation was a little further along. I tried to stay awake, but it was no use. A man can't survive without sleep. Neither can a woman. I am not sure how long the process took. I have no way to know what drugs they were pumping into me, at this time, but I do know they left my brain in a deep fog. And as the fog in my thoughts thickened, the schedule of treatments seemed to accelerate. I vaguely remember being wheeled in and out of various rooms, and palpated under bright lights. I remember being given injections, then being hooked up to IV bags filled with coloured liquids. I suppose a lot of time went by, but I was too heavily drugged to mark its passing. Then one day, I woke up in the white-curtained room and my head was clear. Nobody was around. I was lying in bed, fully alert for the first time in weeks. Shifting my position slightly, I became aware of a strange heaviness pressing against me. I struggled into a sitting position and looked down at the hospital gown draped lightly over my body. I noticed a large bulge in the gown over my upper torso, and I knew right away what it was. My hands confirmed the worst: I had been forced to grow breasts. I felt suddenly nauseous, filled with revulsion, as I pulled the gown over my head to see what had been done to me. These were not perky little man-boobs, either, but big, swinging knockers. Hooters. Sick with disgust, I tried to climb out of bed, but found myself too weak to stand. I fell back in the pillows, and a wave of regret came over me, followed by something that had not happened in years. I began to cry. Wet tears ran down my cheeks, and while wiping them away I noticed an unfamiliar smoothness in the skin of my face. I had no beard, no stubble. My chin as smooth as a child's. The next thought that crossed my mind is the obvious one. It will have occurred to you already, I imagine, but I was still dazed from medication and thinking a bit slowly. My lower body was still covered by sheets. I did not dare take them off to look below, but instead pushed my hand down under the blankets, into the space between my legs and found...nothing at all. No penis, no testicles. I had been unmanned. Where my manhood had been, there was now a neat plot of soft brown hair. I explored it with my middle finger, and immediately felt a small thrill in the general area of my crotch and, to my amazement, a slight wetness. I pushed against this damp spot, with the tip of my finger, then pressed it in, up to the first knuckle. I pushed harder, and now my whole finger slid in easily. It was not a disagreeable feeling. I began sliding the finger in and out, very slowly, and felt the whole area became saturated with moisture. So, I was a woman, and a fully functioning one. How they had accomplished this, I could not even guess. I would have taken my explorations to their logical conclusion, but just then the door to my room came open, and in walked the efficient nurse, and the hated doctor, wearing his usual preoccupied scowl. "Ah," he said, ruffling a sheaf of papers on his clipboard. "I see you're back with us. Nurse, please examine...her." The nurse briskly pulled back the bedsheets. What I could see of my new body was a bit disappointing. As I knew already, I was a woman, but not a particularly attractive one. I had wide hips, but a rather thick waist, and there was more angularity in my legs than is considered desirable. If my thighs were a bit less plump than I could have wished, my tits were the very opposite. They were immense. Indeed, they were almost ridiculous, spilling sideways over my chest and sagging heavily into my armpits. The tears sprang to my eyes once again, and I noticed another change change that was especially hard to explain. My whole body was smaller and slighter than it had been. It was not an optical illusion. I could see very clearly that my feet no longer came close to reaching the end of the bed. I inspected the narrow bones of my wrists and was struck by the shortness of the forearms, lightly brushed with soft girlish hair, and their overall appearance of frailty. The nurse poked around at my tits for a while, and seeming satisfied, turned her attention to my crotch. She snapped a latex glove onto her right hand, and, with no pause for permission, plunged one finger into my vagina, as deeply as she could. I grunted miserably, and she pulled it out again. "Vaginal opening is normal, doctor, and the cervix is well toned." Cervix? Stranger still. Mueller nodded, slightly, and lowered his clipboard. "Good," he said. "Good. Call in that new guy." "Buford?" she asked. "Yes, that one." She must have pushed a button, or something. Within less than a minute, the door flew open again, and the "new guy" came in. He was a big, well-tanned fellow, densely muscular, with an upturned nose like a pug. He had a shaved head and tattoos all over his bulging biceps. The doctor spoke. "Do you think you can you get it up for her?" He gestured absently in my direction. Buford shrugged. "I don't see why not." With that, he started unbuckling his belt, and soon was standing in front of me, his semi-soft cock dangling between his big muscular thighs. I don't suppose I have to tell you that Buford was a well-hung gentleman. "Bigness" was Dr. Mueller's signature style, and Buford had benefited from this as much as anyone. Even semi-erect, his organ was very impressive, and it became clear that it was in good working order, too. In the time it took him to walk across the room, it sprang fully erect. He paused at my bedside, his muscular chest heaving, his hairy hands hanging at his side. I looked fixedly ahead, but in my peripheral vision I could see his thick cock, and sticking out in a vaguely menacing way, like the yardarm of gaff-rigged ship. Then, Buford climbed aboard. I'd had sex with plenty of girls before, but never had I really known what it was truly like to be fucked. To have something stuffed right in, and then to feel a big man's weight pressing down on you as he takes his pleasure, sweating and grunting. I guess I'm not very imaginative, but I learned a lot that day. The first thing that strikes you is your own weakness. You couldn't lift him off you if you tried. You see his big arms planted on either side of you like a couple of trees, and you realize how much smaller you are, and you know he can do as he pleases, with your consent or without it. You feel the soft tip of his cock poking at you, down below, looking for the way in. Then he finds it, that soft, moist gap in your middle, and in it goes. You feel a sort of "whooshing" inside you, as if something has given way. There might be some pain. It hurt me, at first, and I cried out, "Don't!" But of course, he did. If it is your first time, you probably don't move much while it's happening. You might beg him to stop, or try to squirm out from under him; but your body soon betrays you, sending out that warm wetness that makes it so easy for him to slide into you. Then you just lie there, a little dazed, and you let it happen. He labours over you, plunging and jabbing. In, in, in. Gradually, an uncomfortable feeling sort of grows inside you, a sort of pang in your groin. You try to fight it down, but it just keeps welling up. It becomes a kind of tension. The tension grows until you can hardly stand it, and you feel a need to push up with your pelvis. You try not to, but it happens all on its own. You feel a sort of stiffening in your spine, a sudden rigidity in your pelvic muscles, and the climax begins. I understand there is some controversy about whether a woman's orgasm feels different than a man's. I am here to tell you that it most certainly does. It begins like a very small burst, which sets off a larger burst, and then a sort of chain reaction follows. In a second or two, waves of these little explosions ripple up your body, building up to a big and very sudden release, and perhaps you cry out. I did, anyway. I did not want to give my tormentors the satisfaction of knowing what was happening to me, but I could not keep quiet, however hard I tried. A long "aah" escape from my lips as I came. But the really remarkable thing about a female orgasm is, the first climax might not be the only one. It might be followed by another one, even bigger. And after that, a truly overwhelming climax might hit you, and instead of just squealing "ooh," you might find yourself screaming. That's how it was with me, anyway. And as I screamed with a pleasure I never asked for and didn't want, the shaved brute above me released his load into my virgin pussy. They say a girl can't really feel a man shooting sperm into her, which is true. You don't feel the spurts of fluid going in. But you do feel the spasms in his cock, and you feel the muscles in his abdomen becoming sort of rigid. And when he spasms again, you feel the wetness of his sperm gushing out around the shaft of his penis, dripping down the front of your thighs. And when he spasms once last time, you know, somehow, with a sinking certainty, that you have been impregnated. Once was all it took. They kept me there, tending to my needs as my belly grew, and grew, and grew, and my tits became heavy with milk. They did not release me until many months had passed, when I was so far along that no clinic would even consider giving me an abortion. The days drifted by, monotonously, as I grew and grew (though never an inch taller). Finally, one morning, the nurse came into my room, and gave me a pretty new dress to wear-a billowy cotton shift, white, with a pattern of yellow flowers-and she fitted me with a big, serious-looking bra, with buckles and wide straps and those little fold-down flaps over the nipples for nursing babies. Through my tears(I cried often and easily, now) I caught sight of the tag on the strap: 34J. I was now the woman of my dreams, I reflected sadly. When I was dressed, they put a blindfold over my eyes, led me out to a waiting car. After a long drive, I felt the car pull over. They yanked off my blindfold and pushed me out onto the sidewalk without so much as a goodbye. I recognized the surroundings immediately, a quiet suburban street in my old town. As they drove away, I did my best to read the letters on the car's license plate, but it was gone before my eyes could adjust to the sunlight. I just stood there by the road, blinking and fighting back tears. Soon, I found myself waddling down the sidewalk, just another expectant mom, draggin her pregnant bulk down the sidewalk. My heavy tits stretched the straps of my bra so they cut into my shoulders. I tried to walk softly so that they would not bounce, because they were so tender and sore these days. Even so, I could feel them jiggling, barely concealed under the filmy cotton of my summer dress, and a group of young jerks whistled at me as I trudged miserably by, and shouted vulgar taunts. By instinct, I found myself walking in the direction of my old house. I don't know what I was hoping to find. Perhaps, I thought my old life would still be there, waiting for me. I soon found myself at my old address, but on the far side of the street. The house looked the same as ever. The car was in the driveway, the grass neatly trimmed. I was on the verge of crossing over and trying the door, then realized I did not have a key. I patted myself all over, but the silly yellow dress did not have a single pocket. As I stood on the far side of the street, my old front door suddenly opened, and a woman came out backwards, deftly pulling a stroller out through the door and manoevering it onto the landing. It was my wife Annie, looking unchanged (except, of course, for the new bustline, which suited her rather well). As for the baby, I knew very well who the "father" was. I wondered, briefly, whether it was a boy, and had he inherited his skinny father's precociously big cock? Then another figure emerged from the house, a girl cradling a baby in her little arms. Against her small body, the baby seemed impossibly huge. It was Ellen, only eleven and already a tired mom with stetch marks and chapped nipples. The baby had black hair, like Dr. Mueller. At this point, Annie seemed to notice me watching them from the far side of the street. But what she saw there was nobody she knew, just a sad-looking pregnant lady, out for a stroll in her summer dress. She waved cheerfully at me, and I waved back, mechanically. I knew there was no place for me here, so I turned and trudged heavily away, my sore tits joggling stupidly under my chin. Somehow, I ended up here at the women's shelter. I have no idea what is in store for me. The baby will arrive, of course, there's no way to stop it now. Will it have an upturned pug nose and big arms, like the musclebound brute who fathered it? I suppose I will have to nurse the thing. My boobs are already brimming with milk. Maybe I will even learn to love it. Maybe I won't be able to help loving it. You can't fight biology. Perhaps that is my punishment, in the end...to raise my rapist's baby, and give it what is left of my love. The End.