Derek enters the room, his thick body framed by the doorway, His hairy chest glistens slightly under the room's soft lights. As soon as his gaze lands on you, it's as if his eyes widen, an appreciative low growl rolls off his lips. He’s quiet, almost reverent as he takes a moment to drink you in. 

You watch, with fearful anticipation, as Lucy gets on her knees, her shaking fingers gripped onto the waistband of his briefs. As she slowly pulls them down, your breath halts. The sight that unfolds is almost terrifying in its eroticism.

His cock is enormous, long and thick, riddled with veins. It uncoils like a colossal animal freed from its cage, curving slightly upwards. His balls, heavy and round, hang low between his hairy thighs. You can't help but whimper audibly at the sight, a helpless and pathetic whimper that spikes the tension in the room.

Your eyes flutter shut briefly as you take in the sight before you. The enormity of his cock, the stiffness, the dark engorged veins that pulse with each beat of his heart. It's an anomaly, it's mesmerizing. It's almost as thick as your wrist. 

His balls are full, the fuzzy sac heavy with cum, and you're mesmerized by the sight of it. Your eyes are drawn to the glistening precum oozing from the tip, the musky scent of him wafting through the air.

You draw in a shaky breath, groaning softly as the smell of his arousal, potent and acrid, fills your nose. 

It's disgusting, it's obscene. 

You register your own whimper, high and needy, as your body reacts on its own. Your thong is soaked through, your juices drooling down your thighs, staining the pristine white sheets beneath you.

You watch wide-eyed as Lucy leans in, the older woman taking his heavy cock in her hands, her fingers barely wrapping around its girth. She works to fit him into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she tries to accommodate his thickness. It is a lewd sight that sends an illicit thrill down your spine.

And all the while, he's watching you, his lust-filled eyes on your face, devouring your every reaction. There's a smug satisfaction in his gaze as he says, huskily, "You look beautiful, Taylor." He groans, his large hands tangled in Lucy's hair, guiding her head along his length. "You did a great job, babe," he murmurs to Lucy, never breaking eye contact with you.

The sound of Lucy's gagging, the obscene wet sounds filling the room as she works his shaft with her mouth and tongue is maddening. It's so fucking filthy, so downright vulgar, and yet it’s kindling something feral in you. 

Your hips subtly roll against the satin sheets, the friction against your body sending sparks of pleasure through you. You bite your lip trying to stifle a moan, but a strangled whimper slips out anyway, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, can feel the warmth spreading through your body, pooling at your core. Breeder Pill was doing its job all too well. Your pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled. But all you can do is hold your position, and watch as Derek's massive organ comes to life fully, wet and sloppy from his wife's ministrations, ready for its task. Ready for you.

The two share a brief, heated glance, something intimate and conspiratorial in their gaze. Lucy rises on her tiptoes, reaching up to plant a passionate kiss on his lips. It's a tender moment, their bodies melding together in a loving embrace.

He grunts as she pulls away, a string of saliva trailing from their lips. Lucy stumbles back, leaving him standing there, his massive cock bobbing obscenely in front of him. He turns to face you, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes twinkling with a glint you've never seen before.

He pulls himself up onto the bed in front of you, his heavy, hairy body making the mattress dip beneath his weight. The frame creaks ominously under his bulk, the sound resonating across the silent room.

He shifts closer, his thighs spread wide on either side of your exposed body, giving him a clear view between your legs. Your breath hitches, the air thickening as he settles himself comfortably.

His scent hits you then, a mix of tweed, sweat, and a lingering musk that is uniquely male. The smell is potent and dominating, it invades your nostrils, seeping into your senses, and making your head spin. 

"How're we doing, Taylor?" he asks in his typical 'friendly neighborhood white ‘guy voice. There's a sinister undercurrent beneath his mild tone, a dark, unnerving lust that's hard to ignore. "Remember, deep breaths. We're doing this together, okay?"

Your heart is pounding painfully in your chest. Your mind is screaming, 'No!' but your body... your body is louder. Your gaze is glued to his monstrous organ, your eyes drinking in the intimate details of his arousal. The sight is obscene, filthy beyond words, and yet, a sick pride swells within you knowing you're the cause.

Your mouth goes dry as he inches closer, the smell of him only enhancing your arousal. You watch as his cock twitches with anticipation, the sheer girth and length of it making you gulp. Your pussy clenches, your juices soaking your panties, and dribbling onto the sheets.

Reality crashes hard onto you again. You’ve never been a woman in front of a man before, let alone naked. You'd only ever used X-Change for fun... a bit of thrill, a distraction from the mundane. But now... 

The irony of it all hits you in a wave. You, who'd always sought pleasure, was now serving as a reluctant vessel for someone else's satisfaction. 

As the seconds tick by, your body betrays you. Your heart thuds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears like a steady, persistent drum. Your trembling hands are balled into fists, the knuckles turning white from the strain. Your stomach churns with a mixture of fear and anticipation, a sickly sensation that makes you swallow thickly. Your mouth is dry, your tongue sticking to the roof of it, a strange metallic taste lingering at the back of your throat.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you barely feel it at first. A heavy thump of something hard and hot against your belly. There's an instant reaction, your body arching upwards, a gasp escaping your lips. You look down and see the bulging head of his cock, the glossy skin stretched taut with arousal, the slit leaking a steady flow of clear precum.

"Fuck!" you whimper out, your eyes wide and terrified. The fat head of his cock leaves a sticky trail of precum on your belly, smearing the white lace of your lingerie. You can feel the warmth of the liquid seeping through the fine lace, hot and wet against your skin. 

The sight of his thick cock sprawled across your slender belly sends shockwaves of arousal through your body. Your pussy throbs, an insistent pressure building within you. 

Your eyes flit between the root and the tip of his cock, the length of it both quite intimidating. You can't help but imagine what it would feel like inside you. How deep would it go? The thoughts make you whimper, a high-pitched sound that echoes around the room. 

Mr. Wilson chuckles at your reaction, his eyes glinting with lust. You watch as his fingers wrap around the shaft of his cock, his thumb rubbing over the leaking slit in circular motions. 

Suddenly, Mrs. Wilson lets out a sob, the sound slicing through the thick silence. With a final, fleeting glance at you, she rushes out of the room, leaving you alone with Mr. Wilson. He doesn't react to her departure, his attention solely focused on you.

You're lost in a whirlwind of sensations, your body betraying your mind at every turn. His cock looks so big, so daunting. The precum is still leaking onto your belly, hot and slick against your skin. The sight of his arousal triggers something primal within you, your body responding without your consent. 

His precum stains your lingerie and skin, but you barely notice it. Your entire focus is on the throbbing ache building between your legs. You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing, the dampness seeping through your panties and wetting the sheets beneath you. 

The reality of your situation hits you then. This isn't just some fun sex game anymore. It's no longer just you and your body. It's Mrs. Wilson's tears, Mr. Wilson's lust, your family's desperation. And your sick, overwhelming arousal in the face of it all. 

The way Derek looks at you SHOULD have made you want to crawl and hide. Instead, it sends a shiver down your spine, your arousal skyrocketing to critical levels. You’d never been looked at like that before – like you were a piece of meat meant to be devoured. 

“Christ almighty, you’re wet," Mr. Wilson mumbles, and you can feel your cheeks burning. It’s one thing to know you’re aroused. It's a completely different beast when someone else points it out. He leans in towards you, his beer belly pressing against your knees as he aligns himself with your throbbing cunt. His breath is hot against your skin and you involuntarily shudder at the sensation. His cock is a heated rod against your belly, leaving a trail of precum wherever it touches. 

Then, he pulls back, his hands reaching for the base of his massive cock, positioning it at your entrance. You can feel the hot, sticky bulb of his cockhead probing at your delicate folds, spreading you open wide. Reality crashes back onto you then. You’re about to have this incredibly daunting cock inside of you. You're about to be fucked for the first time. You're about to be split open by a cock bigger than your forearm.

He pushes into you and you gasp, your eyes opening wide, your hands flying to his chest. You feel your pussy being stretched wide, the insistent throb of your arousal mixed with the sudden, overwhelming pressure of his cockhead pushing past your slick folds. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust before he begins slowly pushing into you. 

Inch by excruciating inch, he fills you up.

You can feel it all – every vein, every ridge of his cock as it slowly impales you. It's too much – his size, his girth, the way he spreads you open. You can't help but whimper, your hands clutching at his chest, your body instinctively trying to pull away from the onslaught. 

He doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. The animalistic grunts that escape his lips only fuel your arousal further. You feel him slide deeper into you, the pleasure overcoming the pain in a rush of sensations that leave you gasping for breath. You can feel the sensation of being filled to the brim by him. It's an intensely intimate moment, every single inch of his fat cock sliding deeper and deeper, stretching you for him.  

It's a strange combination of pain and pleasure. Your body rebels, your muscles clenching around his girth as your mind tries to process the enormity of the sensation. And then, he bottoms out. You feel his massive balls smashing against your ass and a high-pitched moan escapes your throat. You’ve been fucked. 

He thrusts, and you gasp at the obscene sensation, the stretch and drag of his cock stirring something deep within you. Your pussy clenches around him, the slick walls of your cunt wrapping around his cock like a glove. You tremble under him, your body working to accommodate his size, your mind lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly filled. 

Every breath you take, every whimper that escapes your lips, every tug and pull of your muscles around him, it all serves to remind you that you're not alone in this. You're here, with him, his cock buried to the hilt inside of you. His weight presses against your body, his grunts filling your ears, his scent filling your nose. Everything about him is overwhelming, intoxicating, and you can't help but cry out as he grinds against you. 

His broad chest is covered in a sheen of sweat, the hairs sticking to his skin. His musky scent fills your senses, the familiar stench of a man. His cock throbs inside you, the heat and fullness leaving you gasping for breath. His balls slap against your ass with each thrust, the rhythmic slapping sound echoing through the room. 

The reality hits you then, harder than a punch to the gut. You're being used. You're here for him to fuck, for him to use however he pleases. You're not in control here, you're just a vessel for his pleasure. Your mind rebels at the idea, but your body... your body responds. The thought of being used, of being so thoroughly dominated by him, sends a thrill of arousal coursing through you. You're being fucked. His cock is inside you, filling you, stretching you. You've been reduced to a tight hole for him to pump his cum into. The thought leaves you reeling, your arousal spiking to levels you didn't think possible.

As the initial shock wears off, replaced by an odd sense of contentment, he pulls back and thrusts back in, a jarring fuck that sends you spiraling into pleasure. His strokes are rough and unrelenting, a relentless rhythm you find yourself falling in tune with. You're reduced to senseless whimpering in response, the melody of pleasure-pain taking over everything else. 

His weight presses you hard into the mattress, his heavy body completely trapping you beneath him. The way he fills you, stretches you, owns you. You're just a soft, pliant body under his. 

His rough thrusts are relentless, his cock slamming back into you again and again with ruthless intensity. The sheer force of his movement forces your hips upward, your body helplessly yielding to him. 

You're pushed past the point where pleasure is comfortable, past the point where you're mentally present. All you can focus on is his pounding cock, the unrelenting rhythm of his thrusts.

Each thrust pushes the air from your lungs, stinging tears pricking at your eyes as you gasp for breath. Your belly distends slightly with every push, the broad head of his cock stretching your insides to the limit. 

You can feel every vein of his cock, the aggressive pulse, the way it twitches and throbs inside you. His balls slap against your ass, the rhythmic sound adding to the symphony of your whimpering and screaming.

"You like that, don't ya?" he growls, his voice a dark promise in your ear. "You like being fucked like a little slut."

His words are a slap to your senses, the harsh language stirring a primal reaction from you. "No... no... I..." You stutter out, unable to finish your sentence, unable to deny what's happening.

"Look at you," he chuckles, his hand coming down to caress your belly. "You're stuffed full, so fucking full of my cock."

The crude truth in his words sends a shock of arousal through you. You're filled, so deeply filled by him, taken and used for his pleasure. 

"Feel me, Taylor. Feel my cock inside you." He pushes deeper, forcing a moan from you. 

You feel your pussy clenching around his girth, your body instinctively responding to his movements. A high-pitched mewl escapes you as he begins to pick up his pace, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm.

There's no finesse, no gentle caress, just the ruthless pounding of his cock inside you. His cockhead hammers against your cervix, eliciting choked sobs from you. You whimper beneath him, your hands uselessly clawing at his broad shoulders. His thrusts are brutal, unyielding, his cock pumping into you like a piston.

"God, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with effort. "You're so fucking good for me."

Your mind is spiraling, the world colored in shades of pleasure and pain. It's all too much, the endless onslaught of his cock, the rough abuse of your body, the wantonness of it all. You're completely taken, owned, and used by this man. 

He reaches down, his fingers finding your swollen clit, and you shudder under his touch. You feel a jolt of erotic pleasure as he rubs circles around your sensitive nub, his movements matching the rhythm of his thrusts. You can feel your body tightening around him, the tension knotting in your lower belly. You're teetering on the brink, the sweet release just an elusive touch away.

"Please... please..." you mewl beneath him, your voice hoarse from your continuous crying. "Go slow... you're too big..."

He chuckles, his movements not slowing one bit. "Oh, sweetheart," he coos, his voice a dark promise. “I’ve barely got going.”

Your world flips upside down as he pulls out, a whimper escaping your lips at the sudden emptiness inside you. He pushes you onto your hands and knees, adjusting your position on the bed. The plush pillows that Mrs. Wilson had carefully arranged for your comfort are discarded with a dismissive grunt. 

He mutters something under his breath, a crude commentary about the “natural order” of things. You feel a hard slap across your round, jiggly ass, his hand leaving a burning imprint on your skin. You startle at the sharp sting, a jolt of obscene pleasure coursing through you.

His fingers are rough as he gathers your twin pigtail braids, Mrs. Wilson’s careful work meant to make you look innocent now serving as his handhold. He uses your hair as a leash, tugging you back onto his enormous cock. The feeling is mind-numbing, a thick, heavy fullness that makes you feel used, taken, as he sheathes his fat cock back inside you. 

His grip on your hair is a cruel reminder. You’re here, pinned under him, his cock rammed deep inside you. There’s no escaping this, no going back. This is your reality now.

With a cry, you bury your face in the plush sheets, the coarse fabric scraping against your tear-streaked cheeks. His thrusts are brutal, each one driving you harder into the mattress, his heavy body following you down. His cock fills you, stretches you, rules you. You can feel every pulse, every throb, as he bottoms out inside you.

You can feel his balls swinging against your ass with every vicious stroke, a humiliating rhythmic reminder of what’s happening. Your belly distends slightly with every thrust, the feeling of being filled to the hilt by him is far too real, far too dominant. 

Every stroke of his length inside you stirs up a torrent of sensation. You’re floating on a wave of intense pleasure-pain, the boundaries blurring till you can’t tell one from another. The sloppy sounds of his cock ramming into your wet cunt fill the room, joined by your incoherent babbling as you feel your sanity slipping away.

Each thrust, each slap of his belly against your peachy ass vibrates through you. The wet plop as he pulls out, the sensual grind as he pushes back in, it all adds to the obscene symphony playing out.

Your body feels ruined, violated, stretched out, and owned by him. You can barely catch your breath. With each slam of his hips into yours, you gasp in time with his grunt. The fog of intoxicating pleasure and all its intensity is all that exists, each thrust threatening to drag you under.

Your hands claw at the sheets, fingers seeking purchase as your body shakes, twitching with each stroke of his punishing cock. The sight of his fat, hairy beer belly slapping against your delicate, pale ass is shockingly erotic. You look at yourself in the mirror, seeing a woman being bred, made into a tool, a vessel for this man’s desires.

The rhythm of his thrusts is relentless, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. His grip on your hair tugs you back, bounces you back onto his cock, the pain and pleasure of it all driving you insane.

Your mind is a whirlwind of fragmented thoughts, overlapping sensations, and burning needs masked as sinful pleasure. Your cries echo in the room, your voice broken and high, your words incoherent, lost in the haze of your breeding insanity.

His thrusts grow more erratic, his grunts growing louder. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, the rigid length of it pulsating with his impending release. His grip on your hair is brutal, tugging you back onto his cock with every thrust. His belly slaps hard against your ass, jiggling your flesh, the wet slap echoing through the room.

"Christ... Taylor," he grunts, his hand gripping tightly onto your hip. "You're gonna... fuck... take it all."

There's a moment of stillness, a brief second where the world seems to pause. And then he's ramming into you one last time, his cockhead spearing into your cervix, and he's coming. 

The sensation is overwhelming, making your eyes roll back in your head. You can feel it, the heat and pressure of his climax, his cock spasming wildly inside you. His cum shoots out, a hot, sticky rush that paints your insides white. Each muscular contraction of his balls sends more of his seed spurting into you, filling you up, marking you as his. His grunts turn into growls of satisfaction, his grip on your hair releasing to hold tightly onto your hips.

The obscene sounds of his climax, the wet squelch of his cum filling you up shock you back to reality. The sensation of his fat ropes of cum splurting lazily into you, painting your insides with his seed, hits you like a wrecking ball. You can practically hear his balls emptying, the sweaty sack contracted tight against his body as it pushes out the last of his load.

"Take it," he gasps, his body shuddering with the aftershocks of his climax. "Take all of it, deep in that sweet little cunt.”

His words, crude and degrading, send a jolt of arousal through you. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, warm trails of it trickling down your legs, staining the pristine sheets underneath you. His cock is still buried inside you, twitching and pulsating gently, the occasional aftershock making him grunt and twitch.

Suddenly, without warning, your body erupts into an orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, the intense pleasure radiating out from your core in pulsating waves. Your body convulses, your mind turning blank as the release of pent-up tension fills you. It's not the simple relief of a climax, but the overwhelming result of ten days of unreleased sexual tension. 

You can feel it, feel the way his cum triggers something primal in you. 

Your brain-melting orgasm finally washes over you, the pleasure so intense it shakes the very foundation of your sanity. Your body buckles and shakes, the intensity of your orgasm driving you to the brink. Your mind shatters, your reality dissolving into a sea of overwhelming, soul-crushing pleasure.

You're whimpering, crying, babbling incoherently, your body convulsing under the weight of your intense climax. You can feel the sheer magnitude of it, the pulsating waves of pleasure that drown out everything else. You're not just climaxing, you're breaking, the pleasure proving too intense, too overwhelming.

It's more than just an orgasm. It's the realization of your position, of the degradation and humiliation that you've subjected yourself to. It's the realization that you don't just want to be filled with his cum, you want to be used, to be marked, to be owned by him.

The shame, the humiliation, it's all there, swarming your senses. Each pulse of pleasure is a reminder of your position, of how you've allowed yourself to be used. You're whimpering beneath him, your voice hoarse as you beg him to give it all to you. 

You're lost, adrift in the sea of pleasure and degradation, the humiliation of it all driving your orgasm to new, dizzying heights. You're falling apart under him, your body shaking with the intensity of it all, a helpless puppet in the throes of a mind-shattering climax.

And through it all, his cock remains buried deep inside you, twitching and pulsating as it pumps you full of his cum. Your body is contracting around him, your orgasm milking him dry. Your pussy clenches and quivers around his cock, the pleasure heightened by the warm, sticky load filling you up. 

You can feel the torrent of his cum, the heat of it seeping into your insides, marking you as his. You can feel him emptying himself into you, his cock still twitching and throbbing inside you. The sensation of his climax, the ropes and ropes of his cum filling you up, is overwhelming. It's more than just the physical release, it's the mental surrender, the complete and utter domination.

He pulls out, his cock making a lewd popping sound as it exits your well-used cunt. His spent rod is still twitching, beads of white cum dripping from the tip. A thick glop of his semen follows, splattering onto the sheets below, staining the pristine white fabric with a large splotch of pearly white.

The sight of his fat cock, slick and dripping, is a stark reminder of the reality you're living in. You've been bred, seeded, filled to the brim with his cum. The shocking reality of it all hits you hard. Your card has indeed been punched, your worth evaluated and used. Your body, this female body, has been utilized for reproduction, reduced to an incubator for the seed of a man you've known all your life. 

Your pleasure-seeking antics with X-Change pills have turned into a life-altering reality. You, Taylor, are fertilized now, and this is your life. No more escapades as Tyler, no more morphing back into your male self. You are a woman, forever bound by the confines of this gentle, life-nurturing body.

You feel sullied, debased. It feels like you've been marked, not just by his cum, but by the reality of being used for breeding. As you lay there, your body still shaking, your mind is a whirlpool of emotions. What was once a wild adventure has turned into a life-altering commitment. 

Mr. Wilson, panting and heaving, is leaning back on his elbows, the sweat trickling down his face, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. His glazed eyes are on you, taking in your thoroughly fucked figure sprawled on his bed. His satisfied grin seems to cut through you, his eyes twinkling with a depraved sense of accomplishment.

"Goddamn, Taylor... I never thought you'd be such a good fuck..." he rasps, his voice hoarse. "Your body… So tight and responsive. Nothing like Lucy’s."

His words cut through your already foggy mind, their implications slamming into your consciousness like a sledgehammer. The realization that he prefers your body to his wife's, your neighbor, sends you spiralling deeper into your submissive state. It is a perverse fact that only serves to fuel your arousal, the degradation of it all echoing through your mind.

You mewl, whimpering at his crude words. Your mind is shattered, scattered into a million pieces, destroyed by the reality of your new life. You gasp, your chest heaving, your body twitching with the aftershocks of your climax. The wild pleasure is fading, leaving behind a wake of shame, humiliation, and an insatiable need for more.

Your eyes are wide, incredulous, as you notice the seemingly impossible. His cock, slick and semi-hard, is twitching. The once-spent rod is pulsating, filling out again. Your eyes snap to his, the disbelief mirrored in his hazel orbs. 

A wicked grin creeps onto his face as he groans, his hand reaching down to grip his awakening member. "Well, well, seems like your tight little body is calling to me again," he says, his voice filled with renewed lust.

You're panting, your body shaking from the intensity of your climax. 

"Can't... can't move," you gasp out, your voice hoarse and trembling. 

His reaction is far from sympathetic. He chuckles, his hand stroking his renewed hard-on.

"Oh, sweetheart," he drawls, his voice a mix of amusement and lust. "You should have read the contract. It clearly stated that each session of breeding will involve at least two inseminations within a period of fifteen minutes of each other."

His smirk is gloating, satisfied. He continues to stroke his thick member, his hand working the length of his shaft with practiced ease. He revels in the look of disbelief on your face as his cock continues to grow hard, thick, and pulsating with anticipation.

"You're going to have to work for this next one," he smirks, stretching out on the bed. "I believe it's called... reverse cowgirl?"

His words hang heavy in the air, thick with implications. Your eyes widen, drawn to his hardening length. You swallow, your throat dry, your heart pounding in your chest. You look down at the throbbing tower of his shaft, your body instinctively clenching around the phantom sensation of being filled again.

Wracked by anxiety, your trembling hands clutch at the plush sheets as you push yourself up to a sitting position. Your thighs quiver, not used to the exercise, and you grunt in exertion. You plant a hand on the mattress for support, the other moving to brush away strands of sweat-soaked hair from your face that have escaped your braids. 

With a shaking breath, you brace yourself before lifting up on your knees, your legs wobbling beneath you. You feel his hands on your hips, helping you steady yourself, his touch scorching your sensitive skin.

"God, look at that ass," he groans, his hands kneading the plump cheeks of your buttocks. They are still clad in the crotchless white lace lingerie, the material stained with sweat and dripping with his cum. 

You gasp as he gives your ass a cheeky smack, the sound echoing through the room. "C'mon, ride me like a cowgirl," he encourages, his voice loud in the silence. 

Your embarrassment is as hot as the blush that blooms across your cheeks. You shoot him a pleading glance, your eyes wide and teary. But his expression is firm, unyielding.

"Enough stalling. You're here to serve, so do your job," he emphasizes, his tone harsh but not unkind. 

With a resigned nod, you straddle his hips. He guides your hands to his chest, his own hands moving to grip your thighs. His fingers dig into the soft flesh, a stark contrast to the hardness throbbing beneath you.

Your breath hitches as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock. The tip nudges against your entrance, the slick head smearing your juices along the length of your slit. You swallow a whimper as you push down, the girth of his cock stretching you open.

His thick shaft parts your folds, slick with left-over cum and your cunt-squirt. Your body feels heavy, your movements slow and laborious. His cock sinks deep, filling you up, splitting you wide again. You grip his chest, fingers digging into the firm muscle as you force yourself down. Inch by inch, you impale yourself on his demanding length.

The sight of your big, juicy ass, framed by the strappy white lingerie, descending onto his cock, must be enjoyable. Your body quivers, the wet squelch of your pussy taking in his shaft echoes in the silent room. His body is hard beneath you, the muscles of his chest detectable under the flab, when you apply pressure. 

"That's it, baby," he coos, his voice husky with arousal. "Sink down on my cock. Let it fill you up."

Finally, you bottom out, your round ass flush against his crotch. A whimper escapes you, the sensation of being filled to the brim again already too intense. His thick cock is wedged deep inside you, stretching your walls, invading your core. His cockhead bumps against your cervix.

"Fuck..." you whimper, the lewd sight of your needy pussy swallowing his cock mirrored in the opposite wall. His cock fills you, stretches you, marking you as his. His hands caress your thighs, his fingers tracing circles over your sensitive skin. 

With his help, you raise your body, the wet suction of your pussy on his cock making you whimper. Then, you sink down again, moaning as his thick cock fills you again. Each movement sends jolts of pleasure through you, the pleasure heightened by his rough fingers digging into your buttcheeks.

"Good girl," he groans, his gaze locked onto your bouncing ass. "Keep riding me, just like that."

His praise spurs you on, your body moving rhythmically on his cock. His groans echo with each thrust, his hands encouraging you. A triumphant gasp leaves him as you impale yourself completely, his cock buried deep within your quivering walls.

Your thighs burn, the exertion taking its toll. But you persist, riding his cock, letting it fill you completely. His groans grow louder, encouraging you, pushing you closer to the edge. His cock stirs your insides, stretching your walls, marking you as his. 

Your muscles scream in protest as you shift from your knees to your feet, the strain nearly unbearable. You glance back at him over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his lust-filled gaze. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh and guiding you into a squatting position.

With his help, you brace yourself on his thighs, your fingers curling into the coarse hair on his legs. The strain in your quads is immediate, the muscles protesting the sudden shift in position. But he's encouraging you, his voice full of praise and goading.

"That's it, Taylor," he groans, his hand guiding your hips. "Ride me hard."

There's a feral thrill, a haunting exhilaration in being pushed to new limits, in being used in such a way. Your vision blurs with the intensity of the situation, the sensation of his cock buried deep inside you, his hands gripping your hips, and his voice urging you on. These sensations, far too intense and contradictory, are overwhelming.

You try to stabilize yourself on his thighs, your hands pressing down onto his muscled legs. You lift yourself up, your muscles straining, and then let gravity take over. The sensation of his cock sliding out of your cunt is intense, the wet squelch of your pussy loud in the room. 

But the anticipation is what makes you gasp, the sensation of his cockhead nudging against your entrance. You're whimpering, your breath hitching, as you let yourself fall back onto his cock. With little resistance, your pussy swallows his length, the force of your body slamming down onto him driving him deeper.

The sloppy squelch of your pussy taking in his cock echoes in the room. Your body shudders from the impact, your breasts jiggling from the harsh slam. His eyes are on you, the lust-filled gaze locked onto your bouncing tits. As you rise and fall, his hands spank your ass, the sting of his slaps spurring you on.

“That’s it… Fuck yourself on my cock,” he growls, his voice a dark promise.

His cock is filling you, stretching you, marking you as his. His hands grip your hips, guiding your movements, controlling your pace. Your pussy clenches around him, the sensation of his fat cock embedded deep inside you driving you wild.

But then, suddenly, things shift. His hands leave your hips, moving to grab your twin pigtails. His fingers twist in the silky strands, tugging your head back. He guides your movements, his grunts growing louder with each thrust.

"You’re mine, Taylor," he growls, his voice filled with primal lust. "This sweet little cunt… It belongs to me."

His words, so shocking and raw, send a jolt of excitement through you. You let out a moan, a muffled sound in the face of his dominance. His cock throbs inside you, the vein pulsing against your sensitive walls. 

His hands tighten in your pigtails, his fingers twisting in the silky strands. He grunts, his body straining under you, as he thrusts up into you. His cock spears into your quivering cunt, the rigid length of it stretching you wide.

The lewd squelch of your juices, lubricated by his first round of cum, echoes in the room. Each thrust of his cock is accompanied by a wet squelch, your body eagerly taking in his thick member. His hands guide your movements, his fingers pulling and tugging on your hair.

Your body is a mess of sensations, the pleasure coursing through you in overwhelming waves. You can feel it, his cock buried deep inside you, his cum coating your walls. The sensation is intense, lascivious, marking you in a way that is both humiliating and satisfying.

Your breath hitches as he reaches his climax, his cock exploding inside you. His cum shoots out, his seed painting your insides white. His orgasm is powerful, potent, the sheer power of his release sending a fresh wave of arousal through you.

His release is more potent, more forceful than the first. His cum floods your insides, the thick, sticky mess of it filling you up. The reality of it all, his cum deep inside you, results in a mind-shattering climax, rivalling the intensity of your first.

You're screaming, your body convulsing in the throes of climax. The pleasure radiates through you, the intensity of it turning your body into a spasming mess. 

You scream, promising him that you'll carry his child, that you'll be a good mother. You promise him everything and anything, your words garbled and incoherent.

His cum is pumping into you, his cock still twitching and spasming inside you. His thick seed is seeping into your womb, marking you as his. You can feel it, his cum pooling inside you, the heat of it branding you from the inside.

The aftermath is messy, sticky. You collapse back onto him, your body spent, your muscles trembling with exertion. His softening cock is still inside you, his cum dripping from your filled cunt.

His hands move over your body, tracing the curves of your well-fucked form. His touch is soothing, his fingers tracing over your sweat-soaked skin. His voice is low, heavy with satisfaction.

“Yes. You'll carry my child, Taylor," he husks, his voice filled with certainty. "You'll make sure it grows healthy. You'll be a good mom."

His words, so final, so certain, make your heart hammer in your chest. 

The room is filled with the stench of sex, of sweat and cum. It's overwhelming, the scent of it clogging your senses. 

His cock slips out of you, leaving your cunt empty and gaping. Cum load #2 oozes out, staining the sheets beneath you. His touch is reassuring, his whispers soothing as he reassures you. Your first insemination is over, the first of ten complete. 

After the whirlwind of emotions and physical exertions, you find yourself shakily rising from the drenched sheets. Your legs are wobbly, your body drained. The effort of such intense intercourse is taking its toll on you. His seed is leaking out of you, staining the sheets with its thick white mess. 

But as you move to the bathroom, his voice stops you. "Where do you think you're going, Taylor?" 

You turn back, a bashful blush coloring your cheeks. His gaze is on you, intent and watchful. In his hand, he holds a pair of rubber panties, their glittering translucent surface reflecting the dim lights of the room.

"These," he says, tossing them onto the bed. "They are your new best friend."

You squirm under his gaze as you pick up the panties. They feel strange in your hands, cool and smooth, moulded from special hydrophobic polymers. The material is tight, designed to contain and preserve the fresh insemination. 

Your heart hammers in your chest as he steps closer, the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. He reaches out, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your lingerie bottoms. In one swift motion, he pulls them down, leaving you bare and exposed.

"There's no need for that," he murmurs, his gaze fixated on your dripping pussy. "You need these instead."

With a smirk, he takes the rubber panties from your shaking hands. The panties are a snug fit, designed to seal in the semen. A specially designed latex mould cups your lower lips, preventing any leakage. The waistband is thick, ensuring a tight seal around your hips.

“Why don’t we top you off?” 

"T…top me off?" you stutter, the words sounding foreign to your own ears.

As an answer, he scoops up a fat glob of cum that had dripped out onto the sheets. With a wicked grin, he lifts it and lets it ooze into your rubber panties, adding his seed to the pot. The sensation is oddly arousing, the cum tucked into your pussy, swimming around freely within the tight confines of the rubber. 

Your Breeder pill ensures pleasure pulses through your body, rewarding you for this good choice.

"Remember, it’s all about keeping the sperm inside, giving them a chance to swim up there.” He chuckles, giving your padded bum a smack.

Feeling thoroughly debased, but also great, you stagger towards the shower, the tightness of the panties telling you intimately of the job they’re doing. The thought of all those tiny sperm swimming around inside you, fighting their way to your egg is... Yeah.

You expect to shower alone, but Mr. Wilson has other ideas. The shower isn’t big, and with his chubby body crowding you, it’s intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. The shower steam fills the small space, making you feel a little light-headed. 

He reaches for the shower gel, lathering it up before applying it to your shoulders. His hands are rough but gentle as they knead the tension from your muscles. His soft praise for your performance earlier makes you blush furiously.

"You made me very happy today, Taylor. You did a good job," he says, his gravelly voice echoing in the small space. "I'm glad to help your family out with their financial issues. And I'm sure your dad will be pleased you're pulling your weight at home."

His words wash over you, making your blush intensify. You mutter a quiet, "Thank you, Mr. Wilson.”

His hands slide upwards, fingers massaging shampoo into your red hair. "Just think of it as...reproductive work," he chuckles, scrubbing your scalp with a firm touch. "It's just like any other job. But instead, you’re bringing new life into the world.” 

You gasp as he rinses the shampoo out of your hair, the warm water cascading down your body, soaking into the sealed rubber panties. It feels surreal, the gentle hiss of the shower, Mr. Wilson’s body against your back, and the knowledge of his seed secured inside you. 

— 

As you step out of the shower, a wave of fatigue hits you. Your limbs feel heavy, your eyelids droop, and an unspoken urge to lie down overpowers you. Wrapping a fluffy blue towel around your waist, you fumble your way into your discarded clothes. 

Your sweatpants, too big for your female frame, yet tight around your big ass, are stretched over your padded rubber panties. Your sweatshirt, well-worn and faded, hangs loose over your slender body. Your bare feet pad against the hardwood floor as you pick your way downstairs, your grip on the balustrade a little too tight.

Mrs. Wilson is waiting at the bottom, her soft, round face creased with a tense smile. "I made you some milk and cookies," she says, gesturing towards a plate piled high with soft, gooey chocolate chip cookies. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay and watch... it was too much for me," she admits, her voice a little shaky.

You mutter a quiet thank you, the cookies and cold milk soothing your frayed nerves. The warm, homey scent of the chocolate and the soft texture of the cookie against your tongue are so comforting after a double insemination. 

As you nibble on your cookie, a clumsy hand in your lap, the kitchen door opens. Mr. Wilson steps in, shutting the door behind him. Dressed once again, of course. 

His gaze meets yours and there’s a strange twinkle in them. A silent acknowledgment of what transpired upstairs. He moves over to Mrs. Wilson, pulling her into a warm embrace. "It was a success," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Taylor did well."

You're not sure how to react to his praise. Do you thank him for his compliment? Or do you blush and look down, just like you would during a teacher's praise at school? But before you can resolve your internal conflict, Mr. Wilson turns back to you.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asks, a certain anticipation in his voice. You nod, a slow, almost imperceptible movement. But deep down, you know you're already pregnant. The certainty of it is like a heartbeat, a rhythm pounding in the back of your mind.

There's an unspoken understanding between you as you say your goodbyes and make your way back to your house across the road. Once inside, you lock the door behind you and lean your back against it.

In the sanctuary of your own room, you undress slowly, flinging your garments carelessly on the floor. The cool air of the room sends shivers down your spine, causing goosebumps to prick your pale skin. The faint glow of your table lamp casts your reflection onto the full-length mirror hanging on your door, illuminating your naked form. 

The snug rubber panties still hug your wide hips, leaving little to the imagination. You COULD take them off, and no one would know, but… your body feels at peace with them on. 

A soft squelching sound echoes around the room, the noise emanating from inside the strange garment, the tight confines still filled with an ocean of sperm. 

As you stand in front of the mirror, the reality of your situation sinks in even more. You're on the verge of becoming a mother, your body no longer just your own, but a vessel for human life. Life that's probably already beginning to take root within you.

You run a tender hand over your stomach, tracing your belly button with a soft touch. Under your fingertips, your tummy feels firm and taut, as sleek and flat as ever, but that's about to change. You feel awe creep into your mind, at the quiet, humble beginnings of life, at the role you've willingly undertaken.

The image in the mirror mesmerizes you, the sight of your new body, transformed from your male physique into a feminine one. How just weeks ago, you were Tyler, a black sheep in the family, always looking for the next thrill. Now, you’re Taylor, a mother-to-be, carrying the hopes of families unable to conceive children themselves.

An unsettling cocktail of emotions stirs within you - disbelief, anticipation, and an undeniable thrill of acceptance. 

You pull your fingers away from your stomach, a smile playing at the corners of your lips, feeling a strange sense of pride and accomplishment. It’s so weird. But everything feels so right. 

Another wave of exhaustion hits you as you move towards your bed. The adrenaline has worn off, and the day's intense activities have left you drained. You slip into your sheets, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you lay your head on the pillow.

The stillness of the night permeates your room. From outside, the distant hum of Summer City's tropical night birds fades into a soothing ambient lullaby. The familiar coolness of your sheets, the softness of your bed, and your body's pleasant fatigue all lull you into sleep.

You welcome the oblivion, your mind slowly shutting down, all thoughts and worries being shelved for the next day. You feel a sense of relief wash over you. 

For the first time in a long time, you sleep without dreams.

— 

The late evening sun casts long shadows across the dining room as you and your family gather for dinner. The table is set, the dishes spread out in an impressive array of culinary delights. Your mom's lasagna sits in the center, flanked by a tangy garden salad and crunchy garlic bread. The aroma wafts through the room, tantalizing and mouthwatering.

At the end of the table, you sink heavily into your chair, practically barricaded in by a mountain of fluffed-up cushions that support your heavily pregnant belly. The swollen mound beneath your loose, flowy dress is now an accepted part of the family dinners, your transformation from Tyler into Taylor, no longer a subject of hushed whispers, but of heartfelt acceptance.

Your sister, Amanda, grins wickedly at you from across the table, raising an eyebrow as she notes your slightly strained breathing and slow movements. 

"Take it easy, mama," she teases, chuckling as she helps herself to the salad. "I don't think we’re ready for a dinnertime delivery."

Despite the sting of her taunts, you laugh alongside her. The easy banter between you, the affectionate jesting, they all signify the tremendous shift in your relationship. There’s a newfound respect between you two.

Your dad, Rick, sits opposite you. He's traded the grimy coveralls for a crisp white shirt and stylish jeans, the rough beard now well-groomed, and the lines of stress on his face are slowly but surely disappearing. Your mom, Martha, looks happier too, her cheeks plump and rosy. The grim months of financial problems seem to be a thing of the past.

Just as you're serving yourself a helping of lasagna, the Wilsons arrive. Mrs. Wilson, dressed in a soft pastel dress, holds a covered casserole in her hands, her face beaming. Mr. Wilson, following right behind her, offers you a warm smile and a wink. Their happiness is infectious, their anticipation palpable.

They take their seats at the table, adding to the warmth of the gathering. As the meal begins, conversation flows freely. Mr. Wilson, sitting next to you, leans over, his hand settling on your leg in a familiar, reassuring gesture. "How are you feeling, Taylor?" he asks, his eyes filled with concern.

You smile at him, a serene calm washing over you. "I'm feeling fantastic, thank you," you reply, patting your belly. You are blissfully content, your days filled with a surprising tranquillity and joy that you never thought possible.

Everyone chimes in, asking about your latest doctor's appointment, about the baby kicks, and your cravings. You share that the baby is in the breech position but the doctor has suggested a procedure to try and manually turn the baby next week. There’s a little concern about that but the doctor seemed confident about it.

Amanda interrupts with a loud, "So, when are you going back to being Tyler? I mean, you've got to miss peeing standing up, right?"

“Fuck off!” You are never turning back, and everyone knows it. 

Laughter ripples around the table, easing the tension, and you join in, shaking your head, teasing her back about finally having a new favorite daughter. 

The evening wears on, the laughter and the conversation flowing freely in the softly lit room. It's a tableau of harmony and peace, a testament to the love and understanding that now binds your family together… despite the heinous trickery that started it all.  

Everyone’s health is back on track, the garage is thriving, and Amanda has gotten into the college she wanted.

As the meal winds down, you lean back in your chair, Mr. Wilson's hand still a comforting weight on your leg. You watch as everyone rises, clearing plates and packing leftovers, the familiarity and love in their actions warming your heart. 

The Wilsons thank your parents for a lovely dinner and promise to return the favor soon. They leave with a bit of reluctance, Mr. Wilson squeezing your shoulder one last time as he walks out with his wife. 

As the door closes behind them, you’re left in the quiet hum of the house, the remnants of laughter and conversation still echoing in the room. You place a hand on your belly, feeling the life stirring within you. You feel a sense of wholeness, of fulfillment, that you never thought possible. 

Looking around at your family, you realize that this is what happiness looks like - love, acceptance, and sacrifice. Even if it started out as something kind of fucked up. And as you lay back against the mountain of cushions supporting your burgeoning belly, you know you wouldn't have it any other way.

Your transformation has brought not only a physical change but an emotional one too; it's healed a family, brought hopes to parenthood, and reshaped the black sheep into a white and fluffy one. As Taylor, you’ve made a family whole again and another one hopeful. 

Your journey from Tyler to Taylor has been anything but ordinary, starting out as anything but good, and yet, it’s one you wouldn’t trade for the world.

And as you get ready to welcome the newest member of your extended family, you know that no matter what, you've got this.