The Real Stepford Wives: Sugar Plum Fairy free porn video

The Real Stepford Wives: Sugar Plum Fairy By VI This story is based on my favourite piece of TG fiction, which was written by the author Sarah Barndt. If you have never read 'The Real Stepford Wives: Only Women Have Babies' then please do so, as it is an imaginative and well told story. Thanks very much Sarah. ************************ I had been performing ballet since I was eight, and for the last six years had been with one of the American ballet companies. I think the fame had affected me. I was a talented but arrogant young man. That is, until I visited the town of Stepford. Earlier that year I had injured my leg during a rehearsal and spent much of the time waiting for it to heal. This made me very bitter. I had little to do and felt like a cripple, unable to join in with the rest of the dancers. It was suggested that I take a long holiday, to relax and let my leg heal fully. That was when I received an e-mail from Stepford Pharmaceutical Labs. Apparently they had heard of my injury (who in dancing circles hadn't?) and believed that they could have me dancing again within a month. I was skeptical. The company, however, wanted no money in return, merely my help in setting up a small ballet school in their town. What had I got to lose? A few days later I was on my way to Stepford. The last part of the journey was by plane. We flew into Stepford's small airfield after a scenic flight through the mountains. I was soon greeted by some representatives from the labs, who drove me to the local hotel where I would be staying. Before leaving me, the guys asked me if I wanted to join them at the men's club that night, to watch the football game on TV. I had nothing to do until my appointment at the Labs the next day, so I agreed. Stepford certainly was a nice town. I realized, as I wandered around, it reminded me of the 1950's in a curious sort of way. Everything seemed so idyllic. All the folks I met around Stepford seemed to know that I was from out of town, and were very pleasant. Particularly the ladies. All the women I met were very attractive, although a little full figured for my tastes, and they dressed like models in expensive designer clothes. But it was the way they acted that I found most appealing. Such thoroughly feminine creatures. And all happily married. I should have guessed that there was sinister going, just by how perfect everything was. Instead, I went to the Men's Club in the center of the town to watch the game. I met up with the representatives from the Stepford Labs and a few of their work colleagues. All they wanted to do, was talk about sexual conquests, mainly mine. They seemed to take a great interest in that. I had some good stories though. You don't spend six years surrounded by beautiful, slim women without bedding a few. The guys loved to hear about all this and kept asking me about previous girlfriends, favorite sexual positions and so on. Later, after I had said my goodbyes, I staggered back from the Men's Club to my hotel, a little worse at having a few too many beers. I fumbled for my key to open the door to my room, but it was already open. Cautiously I stepped into the dark room and felt for the light switch. As the lights came on I saw a small girl wearing a pink baby doll nighty sat on the corner of the bed. I guessed that she couldn't be more than twenty years old. "Please don't make me leave" She pleaded. I told her I wouldn't, providing she explained what she was doing here. The girl was clearly scared and asked me to help her escape from Stepford. Escape? I asked her why she'd want to 'escape' from a town as nice as Stepford. She started to tell me, but then stopped shaking her head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you the whole story. Let's just say I'm being forced to marry someone I don't love." She sighed. I told her I wanted to know everything. I'd make up my mind what I did and didn't believe. "Okay." She said nervously. "My name's Veronica Damn! I mean... That's what I'm called now. Three weeks ago my name was Walter. Three weeks ago I was a MAN!" I span around as I heard the door to my room crash open. Two large men charged in knocking me to the floor. As I squirmed, one sprayed a small can of gas in my face. I passed out. When I regained consciousness I found myself strapped naked to an operating table. I strained my head around to see I was in some kind of Lab and appeared to have been operated on. I felt groggy and confused. Across my abdomen I could see bandages. "You're at the first stage of transformation." The voice had come from a doctor who was standing with his back to me, tidying away some surgical tools. I stammered that I didn't understand. Without turning around he continued. "I thought that little Veronica had already explained this to you. Oh well, seeing as you're not going anywhere." He cleared his throat. "'Dream wives to order' that's our motto. We can make the perfect woman for any man." I lay there in steadily growing terror as the doctor explained what Stepford Pharmaceutical Labs actually did. They took young men who matched the physical requirements and had the right sexual experienced and turned them into women. The procedure caused them to become obedient little ladies, just as required. I screamed at him to stop, to let me go. He simply smiled, telling me that I was in no state to go anywhere. A women's fertilized egg had been attached to my seminal vesicle, and, as we spoke, my RNA was being rewritten into that of a woman's. "A pregnant woman." Continued the doctor as he turned around flicking the needle of a large syringe. Two nurses appeared beside me and wheeled the trolley I was laying on under a large mirror. I gasped in shock my once muscled body was now withered and almost hairless. My penis was half it's normal size and my balls had vanished. I strained feebly at the restraints, trying in vain to pull away as the doctor stepped closer. "In your current, near androgynous state you need a helping hand to emphasize the woman in you. This serum with take you to the final stage of your feminization." I lay there helplessly as he injected the contents of the syringe into my arm. My body trembled as I waited nervously for something to happen. Suddenly, my whole body spasmed in pain. I screamed in agony, thrashing about on the table, as the doctor moved away. The next few hours seemed like years. The pain in my stomach was unbearable - I swear I could feel my guts moving around, as if they had a life of their own. A dull throbbing pain began to pulse through my bones, concentrating on my hands and feet. Then my whole body would start to ache before rising into a sensation of red-hot needles piercing my skin. My moans and guttural roars gradually became the shrieks and squeals of a woman. The pain slowly diminished until the doctor and nurses returned and told me it was over. I started to cry. As I lay there my legs were strapped into stirrups and the doctor examined my new... oh my... vagina! "She's done. Take MISS Carter to her room at the Ladies Club. She's on training routine 7. Her wedding is on the 24th. And tidy this place up. I'm off to play 18 holes with Dr Stevens." I was mumbling incoherently about being a man, as the nurses helped me up. "Not any more honey. You're a good-looking young girl. See." Said one of the nurses pointing at my reflection in the mirror. I squealed when I saw the new me. A skinny young woman had replaced the lean muscled man. I looked so tiny and delicate. My face was soft and round with big blue eyes and full lips. Two small breasts adorned my chest and there was an awful, empty space between my legs. I slumped in the nurse's arms, sobbing uncontrollably as they lowered me into a wheel chair. They helped me into a pink robe and one of the nurses spoke softly to me, trying to cheer me up. "Try not to be to upset. This is the best thing that can happen to you. It's great being a Stepford girl. You'll see." I was wheeled over to the Ladies Club on the far side of the grounds and shown to my room. Alone, I was able to cautiously examine my new body. Just trying to stand was hard enough. It was as if my center of balance had changed, and even when I did manage to get to my feet before the mirror I realized that I was shorter, by several inches. My face was sweet and pretty, framed by slightly longer and fairer hair. My baby-soft skin was completely free of any growth, as if it had been completely shaved. My strength had left me. I was a skinny little girl. But it wasn't all bad news. The tightness in my right calf had gone. My leg had been healed, as they had promised they would. I began to laugh, almost insanely at the situation. But my hysterical laughter soon turned to tears and I threw myself face down onto the bed. There were now no visible signs that I had ever been a man. They had stolen my body and mutated it into that of a frail young woman. Although I was disorientated and confused, I still had the mind of a man. I'd find a way out of this nightmare. But in Stepford, they think of everything. The next few weeks were a blur to me. Almost immediately my training program began, with lessons running from dawn to dusk. I was given a new name, Helena, and was told to introduce myself as such. Just Helena, no surname. Like all of the women here, I'd get a surname when I got married. Which in my case would be in just over a month, to a Mr Douglas Turnbull. I learned this when I was presented with my engagement ring that I was forced to wear along with the gift of a ballerina's outfit. A baby pink leotard, tutu, tights and ballet slippers. He wanted his wife to be his pretty little ballerina. Almost. My training started with the basics - learning to put on makeup, styling my hair, female hygiene - and then moved on to the more advanced stuff. I had to change my walk, my posture, the way I spoke and this was all whilst I was learning to cook and sew. Even my eating habits had to change. Ladies don't gulp down mouthfuls of steak or guzzle bear, so I was taught to take tiny mouthfuls of my meal, chewing each one carefully. The only plus side to my new diet was the large desert I was given after every meal. My fiancie wanted his bride with womanly curves for their wedding night. "Make the most of it Helena. We're fattening you up now, but after your wedding it'll be hard to keep your sweet tooth under control." Advised one of the instructors, who was certainly no waif. I nodded as I finished the large slice of gateaux. I had developed a real craving for chocolate. The worst part though, was having to wear a bra. I realized now why so many women burned them in the 60's. That, more than anything else reminded me that I was a woman. Although my little boobs were really too small to require support, I was given one to wear anyway. It was all part of making me a woman. Every waking moment of my day involved me doing something feminine, starting with my aerobics class. Along with another twenty or so women I would leap and prance around in time to the music in an effort to keep my body toned. My balance and suppleness had improved since my transformation and I found myself actually enjoying the classes. We all had to 'the bust cheer' during one routine. Twenty women shouting: "We must! We must! We must increase our bust!" seemed a little comical at first, but soon it was the norm to me. When I had a few minutes to myself I'd slip into my ballet outfit and go through a few simple dance routines. My slim, supple body and years of experience made me a perfect ballerina. It helped me to forget what was happening. I didn't find men attractive, but women still turned me on. That's why I enjoyed my first 'Wednesday afternoon tea'. All the curtains were drawn and tables of food and drink were arranged around the hall, and all of the ladies of Stepford arrived to chat and mingle. The rules, however, meant that we all had to strip off and just walk around in our high heels. The whole thing seemed weird, with one room containing groups of women gossiping and the next with women getting it on. I felt really excited by it all, but managed to keep my mind focused. I needed an ally. I needed to find Veronica. I saw her chatting with a couple of other women and tapped her on the shoulder. At first she gave me a blank look until I explained to her who I was. She smiled at me warmly. "Oh you're so lucky. I'm so pleased that you're a Stepford girl now. And. erm... It's not Veronica anymore, it's Mrs Richard Farnworthy." She smiled proudly as she showed off her expensive looking wedding ring. That was too much! I scurried off sobbing until I found a quiet room where I sat by myself in the darkness. There was nothing I could do. In just over a week I was going to be Mrs Douglas Turnbull. There was no chance of escape. I felt an arm around my shoulders and looked up into the friendly eyes of an attractive looking middle-aged woman. I collapsed into her embrace, crying uncontrollably. "That's it. Get it all out. There there." She comforted me whilst stroking my hair. Eventually I stopped crying and she brushed away the tears. "We've all been through it honey. It's tough to begin with, I know, but it will get better. It always does. All the ladies of Stepford are happily married. There are no divorces here; no affairs and we have the best education for our kids. You may not think so now, but in a few months time you'll be happier than ever." I thanked her for the kind words, but explained that I would never like it here. I didn't want to be fucked by a man. The idea of that disgusted me. "Neither did I. That was twenty-two years ago. But now I've a loving, and amorous, husband and six wonderful children. I never thought my life could be so fulfilling!" I chatted with Barbara for hours about Stepford and her experiences here. She'd been a cop investigating a few disappearances around the town when she (he) had been captured and transformed into a woman. She was quickly married off to one of the towns' scientists and nine years later was a proud mother of six. She seemed really happy and I couldn't help thinking maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Then she kissed me. I was shocked at first and tensed up. Barbara told me to relax and her hands began to caress my new body. "Our husbands love it when we experiment with other women. It keeps us really horny, and you need a distraction. Now relax." I couldn't help myself; she was really turning me on. Her attentions turned to my budding breasts and then to my pussy. I moaned and groaned in ecstasy as Barbara pulled my head down to suckle on her soft breasts, whilst she massaged my clit. I couldn't help myself. I orgasmed. "That's nothing compared to being mounted by a man." Purred Barbara. The extent of my transformation over the last few weeks was clear. A combination of training, drugs and a carefully controlled diet had turned me into a pretty blonde babe. It was hard for me to remember how to act like a man. Being a woman was now the norm. The doctors and beauticians were pleased with my progress with one exception. Breast size. I was a 34B, but my fiancie wanted me to be at least a C cup. With only a week to go before the wedding I was told I needed artificial means to make me bigger. They already seemed huge to me! I was given an injection in each breast, just below the nipple. The doctor told me that this was the latest development at the Stepford Labs for plumping up our boobs and a lot less messy than breast implants. It certainly worked. Within days I was up to a 36C. Two days before the wedding I was measured for my dress. It was a simple 1930's style that hugged my waist and slowed off my cleavage. When I saw myself in the mirror I started to cry. I looked so beautiful. "Someone is going to make her husband very proud." Said the seamstress, as she stood next to me in front of the mirror. "You look wonderful. The material is an expensive Italian a silk/lycra mix, so a few extra helpings of dessert and you'll still fit into it." That was a relief. I'd already gone up a dress size, as my girlish body gradually became more womanly. I measured 36C-24-36. However, I was nearly half way through my first trimester and soon I'd start to balloon up as my baby grew. But my figure was not the only thing becoming more feminine. My mind had finally started to calm down after the extremely strange series of events I had been through. But now I seemed to think differently. Maybe it was the extensive training I'd been through, or my new hormones. Either way I was a young woman on the eve of her wedding. I felt so... so excited! Ever since my first sexual encounter as a woman, my view on marriage had started to change. I'd been given a picture of my future husband, which I found myself gazing at more and more. Douglas, I learned, was an engineer who'd made his money designing and building automated, offshore oilrigs. He was a rugged looking hunk in his mid thirties. Part of me was repelled by the idea of marrying this man, but a steadily growing part of my mind was telling me how lucky I was. We had a simple wedding on the club grounds, and then it was up to a luxury condo in the mountains for our honeymoon. The drive up into the mountains was a little tense for us both, but it was soon over. After we had unpacked the jeep, Doug took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom. He helped me out of my dress and took a step back as if admiring me. "Well princess, lemme' have at look at you." He said as he eyed me up and down with folded arms. Nervously I turned around, dressed only in scanty lingerie, whilst my new husband looked me over. I was actually worried that he wouldn't like what he saw. There was no need for my concern. My husband had got exactly what he wanted, a dream wife made to order. Soon his strong arms were around me and he lowered me onto the bed. My heart was beating so hard as I felt him slide my panties off. Almost without thinking I parted my legs and raised my hips, looking up into his dark brooding eyes as I chewed nervously at my lip. Then his cock slid in. I gasped loudly. He felt so big in me. I moaned then with a yelp, I realized I was no longer a virgin. Then, slowly at first, he began to pump in and out of me. Fucking me! But my fear had gone, replaced by... pleasure! Although each thrust made me wince with pain, I didn't want them to stop. I needed them to make me feel like a woman. I actually wanted this! "How does that feel baby?" Doug whispered in my ear. All I could manage to moan was how good he was and how badly I needed to be fucked. Almost instantly his rhythm increased and his thrusts became harder and harder. My cries became louder, begging him to screw me, like I was some kind of cheap whore. He seemed to like that. The final barriers were coming down inside my mind. My transformation was almost complete. We both orgasmed together. I lay there panting as Doug withdrew from me. Once I had composed myself, I sat up and gave Doug a kiss on the cheek, telling him how much I loved him. He gave me a hug, saying he felt the same way. In his strong arms I felt so safe and happy. I heard the rattle of a pill bottle and looked up to see my husband pop one into his mouth. His member sprang back to full erection. My juices start to flow again. "Okay Mrs Turnbull. Let's see if you know how to use those beautiful lips of yours to keep your husband happy." He commanded, taking a firm grip on the back of my neck.. He was so masterful. My mind had been so focused on being screwed by him, that I hadn't considered this! Obediently, I crouched down over his lap, taking his member in my tiny hands, gently stroking it. Tentatively I kissed the tip and then took his thick shaft into my mouth, moaning quietly with apparent pleasure. Being fucked by a man had not been as bad as I had thought, but the idea of giving a blowjob and all its implications made me feel sick. I pushed the thoughts out of my mind and got to work. "That's it sugar plum. Swallow it all." Doug told me. Soon our honeymoon was over. I'd changed a lot over those few days. Doug was a passionate, imaginative lover and he screwed me all over the condo and, thanks to my suppleness, in almost every position. I was putty in his strong manly hands. We returned to Stepford and our new house. It was pretty, with a lovely garden, surrounded by a picket fence. Like most of the other men in town Doug was very rich and certainly liked to pamper his new wife. We went shopping together and he helped to choose a whole new wardrobe for me. It was mostly skimpy dresses that showed off my legs and cleavage, but I was happy to wear them for my man. Doug returned to work from an office in the center of town. From there he could run his other offices based around the States. I settled into my role as housewife. I loved cooking and cleaning and always made sure food was on the table ready for Doug. After a hard day at the office he could always rely on coming home to a hot meal and his loving wife dressed in sexy lingerie, or as a cheerleader or ballerina. We had a special code so that I knew how to dress when he called me from the office. I knew he liked that. At my first 'Wednesday afternoon tea' since the honeymoon I sought out Veronica, but only so I could introduce myself as Mrs Douglas Turnbull and show her my ring. We giggled like a couple of schoolgirls as we swapped stories about our wedding and honeymoon experiences. Soon though, we were kissing and fondling each other. It was fun. I also saw Barbara who nodded knowingly when I gushed how much I enjoyed the honeymoon. She gave me an envelope and told me to open it in private. That evening as I was preparing dinner I opened the envelope to find it contained a news clipping that read 'Award Winning Male Dancer Killed in Plane Crash' I was shocked to see my picture, oops... my old picture of me as a man. I read the news article with morbid curiosity. Both the pilot and ... the dancers' bodies were not at the scene of the crash. The authorities presumed that cougars had eaten them. It all made sense to me. This way no one would come looking for me. The men in Stepford were so clever, they thought of everything! Within a few weeks it was as if I had always been a woman. I loved my new life that centered around my husband. I made special efforts to look pretty, like the rest of the towns' women. Everywhere I went, the supermarket, beauty salon or gynecologist, I wore a short dress, high heels, a hat and gloves. My figure continued to develop as signs of my pregnancy began to show. I was so pleased when my belly began to swell. Previously, when I was alone in the house, I had been stuffing pillows up my dresses and standing in front of the mirror, or pretending to waddle around, in excited anticipation of what was to come. Now it was happening for real! I deliberately wore clingy dresses around town to show off my new figure. Other women would stop me in the street to rub my little bump and talk about my pregnancy. They could all see from my still relatively slim body that it was my first child and would give me lots of encouragement and support. I saw more and more of Veronica as we were becoming such good friends. We went to the same aerobics and maternity classes. It was good to have someone going through the same things as me, particularly someone I was so fond of. Veronica was very naughty in the bedroom and we would often spend whole afternoons experimenting with new sexual positions. The sex we had was great, but it always made me hot for my husband's cock. Luckily I got that very regularly. Doug was very pleased with the way I was shaping up. He loved my round tummy and would kiss me twice every morning before he went to work. Once on the lips for me, and then once on my belly, for the baby. He was so sweet! I was lucky to have a man like him. It was about this time that Barbara asked me a favor. She met me at the gym, prior to my calisthenics class and helped me to warm up. "Helena. Do you recall why you came to Stepford?" She asked as we went through a few stretching exercises. Although the memories of my life before I came to the town were becoming very faint I said I remembered something about a ballet school. "That's right. Well, we were going to wait until after your first child, but the doctors say you and the baby are doing really well, so we were wondering if you would like to help teach a few ballet classes?" I said I loved the idea, but would need to see what my husband thought first. But Barbara had already been given Doug's permission to let me do it. He apparently liked the idea, providing we could guarantee that his dinner would be on the table on time every night. That night as I served Doug his dinner dressed in my pink leotard and tights, I promised him that I would never let my ballet class get in the way of our marriage. To show my gratitude I sucked him off whilst he watched a football game on TV. I was really starting to get a taste for Doug's manhood. With Doug's help I made some posters for the ballet classes, which I put up around the Women's Club. I practiced my ballet moves at every opportunity, in preparation for the big day. The response from the posters was good and I helped the interested women to choose the correct clothing and footwear for the class, which is quite important. As the day of the first lesson drew closer I could feel myself getting excited. Soon the day of my first class arrived. Before he left for work Doug gave me a gift. It was a new ballet outfit, all in a lovely deep purple. He said it was to make me stand out at the classes. It was such a nice gesture. Both the leotard and tights were designed to expand with me through my pregnancy. He'd thought of everything. I cried with happiness. The club let me use a room that we normally had our yoga class in. It was ideal. Wooden floors plenty of light, mirrors along one wall and newly fitted rails to balance on. The class went very well with twelve ladies of all ages turning up to dance. Veronica was also there, of course. The two of us were hard to separate these days. Barbara also came to the class, looking very sexy indeed. I'd have to look out for her at the next 'Wednesday afternoon tea'. The lesson was very simple covering the basics, which the ladies managed very well considering their shapes. I suppose that we must have looked a little comical to professional dancers; a crowd of plump and voluptuous women being taught by a pregnant teacher dressed in purple, but we all enjoyed ourselves. The ladies all thanked me after the class; all saying that they would see me next week. One or two let it slip that it had been their husband's idea that they come. Apparently, Doug had been bragging about my suppleness to the guys at the golf club. We giggled about how men are all the same. It felt really good to know that I was putting something back into the community, especially as week by week the classes had began to grow in size. A bit like me! I was well into my fourth month of pregnancy and had to buy some new clothes. Veronica was already wearing her maternity dresses and came along to help me choose. It was as if I was buying a completely new wardrobe because nothing fitted me properly anymore. Either the buttons on my blouses were pulling apart or my ass was stretching the seams on my skirts. I could blame this partly on my craving for pasta and peanut butter, as well as my sweet tooth, but my expanding belly had a lot to answer for. The shop assistant measured me and announced that I'd gone up a dress size to a 10. Unfortunately the maternity dresses I chose were not very flattering to my body, particularly as the bump I was so proud of was hidden beneath my D cup boobs (or udders as Doug called them). I made sure that they showed off plenty of leg though, and chose some support pantyhose in pretty colors so people noticed. Everyone could see that I was pregnant now. It made me feel so... happy. That afternoon I stopped by Doug's office to show off one of my new outfits. He liked it. Doug told his secretary that he was not to be disturbed for the next half-hour. Soon I was bouncing up and down on his lap, trying desperately not to cry out with pleasure, as his strong hands massaged my boobs. Maybe it was the pregnancy or my new hormones, but I was getting really horny. As the weeks went by I began to get big, and my once girlish body began to bloom. My pregnant figure started to show through my dresses as my belly swelled forwards. My ass widened, as did my hips. Months earlier I had been worried about getting too fat, but now I realized that it was all part of becoming a mother. I tried very hard to watch what I ate, so that Doug wouldn't find me a turn off. But my bigger curves made me feel so sexy, reminding me that I was his fecund woman. I loved my big belly and often lay awake at night gently rubbing it contentedly as I felt the baby move. To me it was a symbol of Doug's love. The doctor had explained months before how the zygote that had been inserted into my body and started my transformation, had been fertilized by Doug's sperm. At first I had felt resentment towards my husband, but now all I could think of was how much I loved him. He was so generous and caring, buying me chocolates, flowers, jewelry or underwear at every opportunity. It always seemed like such a nice gesture to me. I still saw Veronica very regularly both at our various clubs and when she would come around for coffee and sex. I remember when she first came around after she'd begun lactating. Her nipples looked so plump, I couldn't resist sucking on them. Her milk tasted sweet. I decided there and then that I'd be suckling Veronica as often as I could! She loved being milked. "Just you wait though Helena, " She said cupping her boobs in her hands "I've gone up a cup size since I started lactating. When your time comes, your tits will be huge." I looked down at my D cup boobs. They seemed enormous to me now. My ballet classes had grown so much I was now teaching two per week, and some of the women had started asking about arranging classes for their daughters. That sounded like fun, so I began teaching the girls under 16 ballet on a Tuesday after they had finished school. All the girls were so keen to learn, and a proper upbringing meant that they were so polite and courteous. I even ended up with a nickname. Some of the younger girls had started calling me 'Mrs Plum', because of my plum colored outfit. Soon, even the women's classes called me by my nickname. I thought it was so sweet and never made any attempt to stop them. The strange thing was that I don't think I'd ever been happier. My life was so perfect and simple. I had such a great husband to look after me. Doug was really sweet about my steadily growing body, particularly towards of the second trimester. I was sometimes worried that he may find me unattractive and frequently asked him. Doug, of course, always told me I was beautiful and reminded me that I was eating for two and expected to get quite plump. My constant questioning must have finally got to him one day though. When I asked him about the size of my ass he simply took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "You need some aversion therapy." He smiled taking out a carton of whipped cream. "Everytime you ask me about your weight from now on, I'm gonna make you drink one of these. That'll help you eat for two and it might just make to realize that I love you no matter how you look. I think you're really sexy right now so I expect to hear no more about it. Unless, you actually want to get fatter? Now open wide." I licked my lips and let Doug pour the carton into my mouth as I rubbed my belly, gulping down the rich, thick cream. He knew exactly how to keep me in my place, and I loved it. I wouldn't be worrying about my weight anymore! Doug was great at keeping me happy. If anything came along that worried or concerned me, he'd simply sort the problem out. I didn't have to worry about anything other than making sure I kept my man happy. Which was just as well. As we say at the women's club "Too much thinkin' brings us wrinkles." When I had finished the cream, Doug made me grip the edge of the sink and hitched up my dress. Yes, he knew exactly what to do to me. Doug was going to remind me that I was his wife with a good hard fuck. And, boy, did I need it! By the time he'd pulled down my panties and hose I was practically dripping wet. I moaned like a whore as me mounted me. He started pumping slowly at first with one firm hand on my shoulder, the other on my hip, guiding his thrusts. "Yeah." He muttered absent mindedly as he pushed a little harder. "Eating for two... Maybe you are a little slim. I want a big healthy baby so maybe you should speak to the doctor about changing your diet or some special medication. I don't want the guys at the club thinking that my wife cares more about the size of her ass than the size of our baby. Isn't that right sugar plum?" I grunted in agreement. It was selfish of me to care more about my appearance than the health of our baby. Between my laboring breaths I promised I'd do whatever it took to guarantee him a nice big baby. He liked that. His thrusts became harder, deeper and faster. Ooh yeah. I ground my big ass against him, huffing and puffing through my clenched teeth. We both orgasmed together. When I next saw the doctor I asked about helping the baby grow bigger. This was quite a common request and the doctor said it was possible. Not all couples wanted big babies, he informed me, and some women wanted an easy birth or were too slim hipped to manage. The doctor smiled and told me with my hips I could probably give birth to a toddler without much trouble. He was so kind. I stripped off my clothes and he gave the baby and I a brief examination, saying that we were both doing fine and that he had some supplements that I would need to take daily, along with several pints of milk to help the baby grow. He warned that there could be side effects for the mother such as increased milk production, weight gain, water retention and drowsiness. I didn't like the sound of that, but I remembered how selfish I would be if I didn't take them. Besides, if I had a big baby then I'd need to produce more milk to feed it. I didn't need to worry. A few days later, during one of my ballet classes, I moved one stage closer to being a mother. My boobs had been very tender all day. My sports bra felt tight during the class, but I put that down to the tablets the doctor had given me. Luckily, I was teaching an adult class that day. I waddled around the class as the ladies went through a little routine that I had shown them, correcting here and assisting there. When I thought that they were ready I went to the front of the class and clapped my hands for attention. The ladies all turned to me ready to dance in a group. That was when a few of the ladies began making sympathetic noises and nodding knowingly to one another. I looked at them blankly until Barbara informed me that I was producing milk. I must have looked very shocked as I looked down to see two little wet stains on the front of my leotard. Barbara told Veronica to help drain my boobs whilst the class carried on practicing. I hadn't brought my breast pump with me, so Veronica took me into the washroom. She sat on the toilet as I closed the cubicle door and got out my sore tits. "Helena. This is going to hurt a little at first." Said Veronica, staring hungrily at my boobs, obviously aroused at what she was doing. "But after a while it'll make you feel really horny." I tentatively offered her my swollen breast. Eagerly she began to suck it, with a look of pleasure in her eyes. Ow! She was right. My nipples were so sensitive. Soon, however, I was starting to get off on it. By the time Veronica moved onto my other breast she had began to suck greedily on my plump nipples, and the gusset of my tights was damp. Phew! I can see now why my best friend let me suckle her daily now! Thankfully, the class was already over when we finally emerged from the washrooms, which was a relief. Concentrating on teaching a class would have been too much. I rushed home as quickly as I could. I really needed Doug to give me a good fucking. The best sex I had was in my third trimester. Doug and I had fun experimenting with different positions to accommodate my huge belly. The pills the doctor had given me had really started to take effect, and didn't I know it! I was up to a size 12 now with a 40DD-54-44 figure. Needless to say I moved around as little as possible. Luckily Stepford is a great town to be pregnant in. Every womens' shop has a maternity section, the grocery stores have a special pregnancy checkout line for faster service and the restaurants all have special tables for mommies to be. Which is just as well. Almost all of the young women I knew were either expecting or trying for a baby. Thanks to the wonderfully intelligent doctors at Stepford Labs, women here were able to have children well into their forties, some in their fifties! But who could blame them? Making babies is what we women do best. And Doug was going to ensure I did just that! He wanted a big family, maybe six or seven kids and thought it best that I have them whilst I was still young. I remember looking at a picture that Doug had been given of me, just after my initial transformation. I was wearing the ballet outfit he had given me. I looked so slim and graceful compared to the rotund baby factory that Doug was turning me into. But that was then. Now I was a real woman, big with my man's child, the way a woman should be. Besides, once we had a big enough family, Doug may want a slim little ballerina again. I'd have to wait and see. Until then I was happy to waddle around, bracing my aching back, with my feet a distant memory. Sure, I couldn't go out as often as I used to, but Barbara and my friends would often pop by during the day for a nice gossip and to see how I was doing. I still saw Veronica regularly, either during one of our many classes at the Ladies Club, or when our husbands took it in turn to drive us to each other's house for the day. We still made love, although much less energetically. I continued teaching ballet right up until the 40th week of my pregnancy. When my last lesson was about to begin most of my pupils from the other 2 classes arrived and presented me with a gift to say thanks for being such a good teacher. It was a musical jewellery box, with a little spinning ballerina inside, and she was wearing a purple leotard! It was such a nice gesture that I started to cry. I was sad to be leaving my classes, even though a few of the better pupils had happily agreed to take over whilst I was away. But many of the women reminded me that having children was more important than teaching ballet and that being a mommy is far more rewarding than being a dancer. How right they were. Veronica had excitedly called me up when she went into labor. She was 3 days overdue (women never deliver early in Stepford) when she started getting labor pains at 5am in the morning. Veronica of course called me to let me know. She was both scared and excited by the prospect, particularly as she was going to have a natural birth. Nine grueling hours later she had a baby girl that they called Samantha. I visited her in hospital as soon as I could. It was strange looking at all the ladies in the wards, each with their newly born child at the foot of the bed. In just over 3 weeks time I would be in the same place as them. Veronica was so pleased to see me and let me hold little baby Samantha. We talked for ages about what her labor was like and how long it lasted. "It wasn't as bad as I had thought it was going to be." She said popping one of the grapes I'd brought her into her mouth. "It really does hurt, although the breathing helps. Oh, Richard was such a help as well. He mopped my brow and kept giving me words of encouragement all the way through. I was so exhausted by the end. But I think it's something that all women should go through. I feel so liberated." I smoothed the dress over my bump. I loved having Doug's bun in my oven, but more than ever I wanted to cradle our baby in my arms. I wanted to hug it and kiss it, and do what mothers do. But the prospect of actually giving birth was so daunting. Veronica was slimmer than me, but her child was relatively small. I felt as if I was carrying a bowling ball. Veronica must have seen the worried look in my eyes, because she took my hand and gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry Helena, you're young and in great physical shape, you'll be fine. Besides, you'll have Doug there to look after you." I gave her an unsteady smile. I was more worried about letting my husband down. It was almost a month later when my waters finally broke. I was five days overdue, but the doctors had told me to carry on as normal, but make sure I had a bag packed for the hospital. I was in the hairdressers, getting my hair permed when I started feeling cramps in my belly. Steadily they got worse. I told some of the other women who excitedly helped me count them. When I realized that this was it, the baby was coming, I was actually relieved. Then I started to panic. Luckily Doug was there within minutes of the phone call to pick me up. He was so calm and strong, speaking to me softly, telling me not to worry. It was so reassuring to have a man take charge of the situation. We went straight to the hospital, and I changed into the birthing gown Doug had brought for me. I had two midwives looking after me and we had opted for an active birth. No drugs though. Not in Stepford. The men here like to have their wives experience the full birth experience for the first child. My pains started coming longer and quicker as I moved about the room, squatting, kneeling and bracing myself against the bed, with Doug helping me with my breathing. The pain was getting really bad when the midwives made me sit down, with Doug supporting me from behind. That was when I really had to start pushing hard. It seemed like hours and hours were going by as I grunted and gasped through the sweat, tears and pain, stripped naked like an animal. Then I realized, yes! Yes, I was an animal. I was a breeder; a mare, a cow or a hen! Each push I made was re-enforcing what I was, a woman! I could hear a midwife saying she could see the head and I felt Doug rubbing my aching back. I pushed harder, screwing up my eyes and clenching my teeth, the pain unbearable. My husband was whispering soothing words in my ear, telling me when to breath and when to push hard. With one last push and a loud scream our baby was born. "Congratulations Mr and Mrs Turnbull. It's a boy!" Beamed one of the midwives as she held up a tiny wrinkled person. Doug kissed my forehead. "You clever girl. Look what you've made us. I'm so proud of you." And with that Doug gave me a hug. I was too exhausted to hug back, so I just lay there panting. Then the midwife handed me our son and all my exhaustion was forgotten. At last, I was a mother and we were a family. Doug hugged us both. I was glad to get out of the hospital a few days later. Doug senior had done no housework and left the house a real mess, with pots and pans in the sink and magazines on the couch. Hmph! He definitely needed a woman to look after him! But Doug had not been lazy whilst I had been in hospital, to my delight he had painted and decorated Doug Juniors' room. The walls were a lovely sky blue with pictures of baseball players, sports cars and other boyish things mounted on them. He'd even hung a sweet little mobile from the ceiling, with teddy bears on it above the cot. I, of course, was in tears over how nice the room looked, and Doug gave me a hug, kissing me softly on the neck. He was so tender and comforting at times. Veronica had not been able to visit me whilst I had been there, but came over to our house with Samantha. She was so jealous when I told her that Doug Junior weighed 10lbs 4oz at birth. However I was so envious at how quickly she had got her figure back! My life for the next couple of weeks became very hectic, after all, I had two men to look after now! I was up all hours of the night looking after the baby, but always making sure that Doug had a decent breakfast before he went to work. He had also told me that I needed to get back into shape before we started trying for the next baby. Besides, it was almost May and he wanted to see me wearing some of the sexy bikinis' he'd brought me. So everyday, without fail, I would spend 30 minutes working out to my post- natal exercise videos and I even had to stop eating so much chocolate. I didn't get out much at first, wanting to spend all my free time with the baby, but soon I was attending classes at the Ladies Club and, of course, Wednesday Afternoon Tea. As I was now a mother, I had to take my turn helping out at the creche, which I loved doing. It was also useful because I was producing too much milk now for one baby to drink. I always made sure there was a little left for Veronica though! On the negative side, I had my first period. Urgh. It was really unpleasant, but all part of being a woman. At least it showed that I was still fertile and ready for the next baby. By June I was back teaching ballet at the class. It was so good to be back and actually take part again, particularly as I didn't have a huge belly obscuring my view (just my leaking E cup melons, which needed plenty of support when I was jumping around). I had lost a lot of weight since the baby and was in much better shape, although I was certainly no waif. There was still a lot of meat on my hips and ass, but Doug liked me that way. "Means I don't have to go gentle when you take it doggy style." He'd tell me. That was my favorite way. Epilogue: I waddled around the Ladies Club bracing my sore back. I was looking out for Veronica, but she was nowhere to be seen, probably engaged in a threesome in one of the rooms. I cupped my throbbing boobs in my hands. Oooh. I needed to be milked badly. I was even thinking about fetching my breast pump (such a waste of good milk) when I heard a voice behind me. "H... hello. What's your name? I'm Kitty." Stammered a skinny little girl in the doorway. She was a new girl, nervous and confused by what was happening to her. It looked as if she had been crying. I smiled warmly and told her my name, only to wince as the baby kicked me. The girl rushed to me putting her hand on my distended belly, as if trying to comfort me. I could tell by the look in her face that my pregnant body aroused her, although unsure of how to express it. "Are you alright Helena? You're not having the baby now are you?" Asked the girl as she gently rubbed my bump, her thumb brushing my outie tummy button. I reassured her that I was not due for months and stuck out my belly to emphasize how big I was getting. Kitty continued to stoke it though, almost as if she was disgusted by it, but couldn't leave it alone. She asked me what being pregnant was like as she continued to stare at my bump. I began to gush about how much I loved being 'in the family way', how I felt so sexy and womanly, dependent on my husband to look after me. I could tell that my words were not getting through to her, she looked horrified. So I lent forward and gently kissed her lips. Kitty, pulled away, but then kissed back, gently at first. I moved side on to her and cupped her ass in my right hand, pulling her towards me. She responded likewise her free hand reached up to rub my breasts. I yelped as she tweaked one of my sore nipples, making her stop. She looked nervously at me as I explained that I was lactating and needed milking. Almost automatically she began to suck on them, whilst I showed my appreciation my diddling her clit. I kept it up until I had been fully drained, and she had orgasmed a couple of times. "That's nothing compared to being mounted by a man." I purred.