Faeophobia: Pregnancy Scare free porn video

It had always been about tits. The question was, what should a girl do with them? Nancy had solved the problem, she thought. Not like the rest of the human girls at Madison University. She smiled with a wicked gleam as she strutted through the Student Center Food Court. The Creatures of Fairy no longer bothered her. It was her turn now, It was Nancy's turn to make jaws drop, to cause heads to shake in dismay; and to cause cocks to harden in her wake.

Ever since the Celestial Conjuction a few years back, it was nearly impossible to be outrageous. One day, we all woke up and the rules were different; magic had returned to the Earth once the stars came back into proper alignment. And once magic blossomed again, the Fae came back. They said that their bloodlines were dying out; that they needed to mingle themselves with humanity in order to survive. They all said that they had no choice but to bear half-human offspring, as the legendary creatures from ancient myth once again walked the Earth. And got citizenship. And took over the Porn industry. And enrolled in State Universities. Though Nancy had a great, healthy figure, she didn't have a magically-idealized figure like the creatures of Fairy. Years ago, her hips and ass would have earned many an offensive slap from the many men that would be trying to get into her pants. Now, it was the Fae that got most of those slaps.

Of course, there were other complications; the free-wheeling, free-loving fae also flaunted every conceivable standard of propriety, decency, and modesty. All of them; Elves, Nymphs, Mermaids, Satyrs, Pixies and the rest were filled with unending, carnal passions that drove them constantly to the most outrageous acts of lascivious obscenity imaginable. And as much as their irresponsible conduct was condemned, the public hungered for them. The masses yearned for the glossy skin, radiant hair, and pointed ears of elven anchor-babes on the evening newscast. Men still went wild over swimsuit issues and skin mags featuring the magically perfect physiques of the supernaturally voluptuous entities. Business men continued to hire Fae for sensitive office positions, inspite of their frivolity, knowing that illicit affairs would blossom wherever the magical creatures set foot. Nancy knew that, in the past, her simple, auburn hair would have been enticement enough; but her hair didn't shimmer with radiant, inner light.

What could a human girl do to get noticed? Nancy had a slightly recessed chin, and a slightly prominent nose, nothing wrong with her, and she was certainly desireable for a human. But she didn't have the hyper-glamourous elegance of the mythical sluts that strutted their bosomy payloads around campus. Before the Conjunction, the answer would have been to push the envelope with ever skimpier outfits designed to reveal rather than conceal. For that, Nancy's fertile figure would have been sufficient. Not today; her tanned skin was youthful, but it didn't gleam like moist silk. The Fairy creatures all had magically-idealized bodies; their breasts were as unnaturally perky as they were obscenely large, Their waspish waists and wide hips never failed them on the dating scene. And worse, it seemed like their breasts were the only place they ever gained weight. With their constant, outrageous lusts, and giggling disregard for any semblance of modesty, they always drew attention. They always held the public eye. She had seen men angrily condemning them while grasping their own cocks under the table. These days, no man ever picked a human woman; they merely settled for normal girls if Fae were not plentiful enough. And that hurt; Nancy narrowed her eyes in memory of the anger she'd felt in the past. But anger alone never solved anything, and human women, in general had three ways to answer this new challenge that Nancy noticed.

Jasmine Cartwright and her friends sat at their own table, pontificating to each other. The blonde was among those girls that lamented and criticized men incessantly for their preoccupation with tits and ass. While they wailed and railed against the reality of male urges, they constantly used magic to enhance their bustlines. Nancy knew that Jasmine hadn't been any bigger than a C-cup her Freshman year, now the girl sported a whopping pair of E-cup melons to do a Pre-Conjunction Stripper proud. But Jasmine and her friends always dressed modestly, to gain a sense of moral superiority over the Fae, to look like they weren't flaunting their breasts, when all the while their breasts kept getting larger.

Of course, a number of other girls had descended into fanatical lesbianism, as a total rejection of the Fae-influenced culture. Ironically, this response backfired often. Fae girls, who often went both ways, targeted these humans for seduction, and in the end, almost all of them surrendured to the sexual licentiousness of their professed enemies. Fae females had a strange habit of dragging human girls down into their own abyss of unihibited lust. Nancy knew one of the professed Neo-lesbians who had roomed with a Pixie for a semester. It had taken less than a month before she fell into the third category of human girls.

These girls believed the only way to compete with the Fae was to become every bit the slut. Nancy passed a few Sophomores that could only be described as prostitutes. The fish-net stockings and luridly displayed cleavage was enough to get them picked up by a Vice-squad if they went out at night. By gratifying almost any man, indulging and encouraging even casual lusts, they could attract about as much attention as most Fae. But some weren't actually competing; they had been driven to a state of lasciviousness by contact with their magical roommates. One way or another, if you lived with a creature of Fairy, somehow, they would find a way to make a slut out of you. Nancy had seen the most icy prudes converted into cock-sucking hussies. She tended to avoid them.

But Nancy had found a better way, yes she enhanced her tits like the rest, but she decided to be creative. All over the country, at night, Bras were torn away and frantic enchantments were invoked upon boobs throughout the world. And Nancy was no different, really. It started out merely as an honest way to make a little money to help herself through college. There would always be a need for babysitters, and college girls filled that role well enough, but times were changing of late; it was nothing short of a new baby-boom. Magical aphrodisiacs were creating an exponential soar in the birthrates of a number of countries, and the Fae themselves eagerly embraced their stated mandate to replenish their population. The magical beings bred like... well, rabbits seemed almost chaste in comparison. Every hospital in a college town now had a vastly expanded maternity ward, as Fairy females were carted in every day, bellies bulging with half-breed young. Seasoned gynecologists gaped in shock at the sheer number of offspring the females could grind out from between their fertile thighs.

It was during a visit to a hospital on behalf of her mother that Nancy got the idea. While waiting in the Maternity compound for her own mother to give birth yet again, Nancy witnessed a sweaty, slutty elf, still clad in her skimpy hospital gown trying to seduce the attending physician only hours after he delivered her baby. Her graceful foot brushed provocatively against the front of his pants, her golden eyes smouldering with an insane urge to breed yet again. It was Nancy's turn to gape then; these lusty beings were truly inhuman. There was an old saying, (probably from before the Conjunction) A true fairy can never be satisfied. How true. If there hadn't been so many people around, Nancy had doubts that the young doctor wouldn't have obliged the invitation from her open thighs and milk-gorged breasts.

In hospitals everywhere, A new race of humanity was emerging from the heaving thighs of elves like that one, and countless other fairy creatures. Though the Fae were small in number, their birthrates were beyond belief. Watching the magical beings adjust to their new lives was like watching a starving lion released into a slaughterhouse. The seed of human males was the Nectar of the Gods to them, their craving knew no bounds. Magical children, neither truly human, nor truly Fae were spreading everywhere.

What could be done to manage this population explosion? How would society adapt? Would it ever end? The vast harvest of infants, human and otherwise also created an opportunity. And Nancy therefore decided to join the Wetnurse Union. More than merely babysitting, there was a great need by working families for someone to feed and care for the many infants women couldn't help having in a world of Love potions, and Amulets of Hyper-Fertility. It was good enough money, Nancy had no complaints. A few modest enchantments caused a girl's breasts to almost double in size and swell with nourishing milk. And Nancy saw her golden opportunity; a way to combine business with pleasure. Most girls could meet their demands with these simpler enchantments, but Nancy wanted more. She went all the way. She saved up and ordered the most powerful enchantment, a new spell only used by dedicated, professional wetnurses.

That was why they stared; she was only human, but people gawked at her anyway. More precisely, they gawked at the wobbling rack of four jiggling teats that bounced upon Nancy's chest like fleshy, tanned canteloupes. She had a closet full of modified, double tank-tops to take advantage of her alteration, like the white one she wore now. It had taken a bit of adjustment; her back muscles were far stronger now, and her center of gravity was altered, but she was used to it. Wobbling boobs careened, collided, and bounced onto and off of each other with vibrant buoyancy. Each teat seemed alive of its own accord, as though her canteloupes were animated with the intent to leap free from the confinement of the tank-top.

The lactation had been a mixed blessing. As her body adapted to the fertility spell constantly burning in her blood, her milk production continuously increased. Over the past semester, it seemed as though her production had doubled. In the beginning, she only needed to milk herself every eight hours when not working, now it was closer to four. The excess she bottled and sold to the hospital, yet another source of minor profit. Even when full, the pain was minimal, she simply leaked. A growing part of her was starting to find her plight irresistably sexy, and wildly exciting. Plus, the waves of orgasmic pleasure that seared her body during her morning milking sessions was well-worth the discomfort.

As she jiggled her way through the Food Court, she grinned deviously at the stares. And the whispers. "Freak", some said. Others proclaimed how "sick" her choice was. But they watched, they noticed. Her eyes riveted on the front of the guys' pants had noticed more than one male member arising to salute her. She saw the gulps again, the pupils dilated again, she was an object of lust again. It wasn't necessary to become a total slut, now that she drew attention, men began to seek her out, men began flirting deliberately! No longer did they reluctantly accept her because they couldn't find enough Fae, men sought out Nancy again! They came. They lusted. They flirted. And she had the luxury of turning them down, if she chose. That was a privelege few women enjoyed. In a campus like this, with elves and nymphs strutting around with tits the size of soccer-balls, if a man took an interest in a human girl, she'd better snatch him up; no telling if she'd ever be asked again. But not Nancy, not anymore.

They called her a freak, but the guys followed her, surreptitiously stealing glances. And sometimes, on days like this, when she decided not to replace the pads in her bra, she reveled in the reaction she got from her leaking tits. Gradually, all four nipples darkened the fabric covering them with release of her fertile elixir. The guy working in the cafeteria surely had never seen her face, eyes riveted in shock at her rack. He gulped, then rushed off to the men's room. Nancy had to laugh. She had become a goddess of ripe fecundity. She was back in control, she was the one on top again.

"... And ah don't wanna be hearin' no jokes about rainbows, or me pot o' gold," announced the diminutive, red-bearded man standing in the lecture hall, addressing the class. "Ah use a 401k plan these days." He declared forcefully. Contrary to popular stereotype, his suit was not green, but rather a dark grey. Professor Sheamus had no hats, and no buckles on his clothing. His only apparent concession to the traditions of the past was the small, ornamental shamrock he wore in his lapel.

"If there be no more stupid questions, then we can begin..." Nancy smiled at the cantankerous professor as he began his Thaumaturgy 201 lecture. She was up with the material; nothing too tough. Even still, Professor Sheamus had a strict reputation. Unique among Fae, male or female for his effective, no-nonsense teaching style. Everywhere he went, his colleagues all affirmed that the vigorous leprechaun conducted himself with an almost human discipline. There were almost no reports of sexual indiscretion on his record; which impressed the administrators of Madison University immensely. There were a few other Fae on the faculty, but human institutions in general had grown tired of the office orgies, lustful remarks, and the usual juvenile hijinks. Not so with Sheamus; there were no complaints. Ever. A spotless, sterling record of glowing commendations followed the leprechaun as he frolicked through academia.

Professor Sheamus glared accusingly at Nancy, when she had first entered his class. Or more precisely, glared with disdain at her massive rack of quivering breastflesh. He'd made it clear that he would tolerate NO magical mishaps. So it was clear that she needed to be discrete with her new boytoy. She glanced with pleasure at the man sitting next to her as the lecture began; this was her bit of revenge.

Nancy relished having some power over her love-life again, the attention and curiosity garnered from her enhanced bosom finally attracted a suitable number of boys; boys she could turn down. Nancy had decided to only date male Fae for the foreseeable future. It was her revenge against all the human guys that had rejected her, and every other girl in favor of the magically voluptuous Fae female. Now the shoe was on the other foot, so to speak. Male Fae, including leprechauns, were exceptionally rare, the ratio of female to male fae was perhaps greater than twenty to one. But amongst all these thousands of students, finding one was merely a challenge.

Nancy suspected that there were no illusions between them; Sergei was in her life mainly just because he was a Satyr. The thrill of attracting a male Fae, combined with well-confirmed rumors of their legendary sexual prowess sealed the deal for her. He was interested in her because no other human girls had the money, or the audacity to buy a multiple breast spell. Yes, he was quite hairy. And yes, he did have little conical horns on his head, but his legs were normal and straight. Quite a catch if a girl didn't mind the goat-hooves in place of feet. She thought he wore them well.

She turned a suspicious eye towards her hairy paramour as the urges filled her. At first, she thought that the occasional fires of lust that were beginning to ignite between her legs of late was due to some spell Sergei had layed upon her, but no. The trouble had started a little bit before she met him. She endured the heat between her legs for as long as she could.

It was about control. Nancy needed control, that was why she went to such extremes to become the center of attention again. Huddling in a stall in the girl's restroom, she knew that her situation was not at all unusual; women that dabbled with magic often had bouts of hyper-lactation, impossible breast-growth, and uncontrollable lust. But Nancy hadn't expected it to be like this.

She leaned over against the wall. Panting. Sweaty. Unimaginably horny. She didn't need to look down at herself to know that nothing had changed; the moist lips of her pussy were engorged, throbbing with an urgent, carnal need. The netherlips of her womanhood pulsed with a will of their own; her inner muscles caused them to quiver like an obscene mouth hungering for lascivious gratification. Nor did her constant lubrication stop. There was no satisfying the slavering void between her legs, no matter how frantically she masturbated herself. However hard she tried, she could not bring herself to orgasm. Again, and again she plunged fingers deeply into her juicy slit, yet when she began to propel herself towards climax, it was as though her stimulation faded just at the cusp of orgasm.

Desperately, she had ravaged her own pussy, trying to still the boiling heat burning within her, yet somehow, something kept driving her back from the brink of orgasm just as she teetered on the edge! She had never heard of magic like this; yet she knew what to do. Nancy was smart enough, knowledgeable enough. She knew as much about magic as any Junior in the Thaumaturgy program. She did have plans; the explosions of savage lust was the price to pay for fertility or cosmetic magic many times. But Nancy allowed herself a wry grin, as she fingered her throbbing clit in the stall. She knew that sooner or later, anyone, fae or human

would surrender to the seething sexual urges this sort of magic caused, and Nancy had a way to evade the consequences!

But... why couldn't she orgasm? She had even tried her tits; tweaking, tormenting, sucking her nipples, several at once a few times. While she howled with the fury of the raw, electric sensation, for some impossible reason, some mysterious force continued to detract from her arousal! Her nipples were pink and engorged, slick from her constant licking. Her wobbling bounty glistened in the flourescent lighting, as she listened to the primal voice inside her, the voice that told her what to do. As she rose, trying to compose herself, the four pendulous orbs seemed to resist her attempts to contain them; squirming and wobbling as she stuffed her multiple bosoms reluctantly back into the semblance of decency that was her double tank-top.

"No respect." growled Professor Sheamus, standing right outside the door of the Ladies' room.

"Ooh... uhm... Dr. Sheamus... is... is class over already?" 45 minutes, and she couldn't make herself cum! Indeed it was, she saw the last stragglers from the Thaumaturgy lecture leaving the building.

"You humans, still no respect fer the magic!" he tapped his tiny foot as if impatient. She was sorry about missing class, but where did this jerk of a leprechaun get off telling her what to do with the spells she'd bought and paid for?

"This ain't like one o' yer natural sciences, lass. Magic is a whole new beast. There be laws, yes that the magic abides by," his bright green eyes narrowed in displeasure. "But magic has a will of its own, a purpose. Science is what it is, nothin' more. But magic will seek to fulfill the purpose of its conjuring; a spell may do things ye dont' expect, if ye don't have respect for the power." Nancy sighed. She'd missed the main lecture, but it appeared the fae had another one just for her. She would humor him. He did assign grades, after all.

"Ye're more hiked up on more Fertility magic than ave ever seen a human try! Those spells exist for one purpose, to increase life by producin' offspring! If the spell can't fulfill its reason fer existin, things get dangerous, ye'll begin ta find yer control slippin' lass! Soon, ye'll find yerself spreadin' yer legs! Not fae nor human can resist this much magic fer long!"

Nancy of course, wanted to issue a stinging rebuke. She wanted to tell the pretentious sprite that he didn't know her, that she was prepared, that she knew about the risks, and that she had taken countermeasures. But the sudden burst of moisture between her thighs, as her needy pussy betrayed its hunger, instead forced her to hurry out as the womanly juices of her desire began to leak down her sleek legs.

Animal magnetism didn't begin to describe it. The ripe lips of her pussy seemed to jerk and grasp of their own accord to capture the prize dangling behind them. The savage yearnings that simmered within Nancy's flesh, as the fertility magic burned inside her became ever stronger at the sight of her potent beau. Sergei was every bit the muscled stud she had suspected, and the sensations caused by his hairy body, his earthy smell propelled the human far beyond any semblance of demure flirtation. She had become the Bitch in Heat.

The Satyr was indeed surprised at the waves of heat emanating from the slick folds of her dripping womanhood, and was it his imagination, or did the walls of her cunt seem to leap out and seize his quickly hardenng member? They had the apartment to themselves; Nancy's roommate was... well... Sergei really didn't care where Nancy's mousy roommate had gone to, not when ripe and randy females such as this little filly presented herself for him, to be taken from behind.

She released little whelps of delight as she felt her own massive teats colliding against each other, trembling from their own fleshy majesty. But this feeling, exotic as it was, could not compare to the feral pleasure of his mighty manmeat. The beefy member probed her depths, as cunt lips spasmed frantically around it, as though afraid he might escape. His rough hands caressed her ribs, down to her ample thighs as he sensuously explored every velvety indentation of her curvaceous form. Upon first meeting him, Nancy wondered whether he would truly find her attractive, since male fae where accustomed to the impossibly perfect faces and physiques of the females, why would they have interest in humans? But Sergei had never complained, he only complemented her and tried to make her feel special.

Her own sharp cries were almost enough to drown out his hoarse grunts as he continued his sloppy invasion. Those hands, rough and powerful hands kneaded the flesh of her outer thighs as thrust himself to the hilt. And yet... Nancy found that she couldn't quite understand Sergei's cock. When she first beheld his proud shaft, it had still been growing, and even inside her, that inflating erectness continued. His meat seemed to expand and contract; twisting and probing every inch of her female sanctum. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out how big he was. It was like... like he was testing her? Every so often, the satyr's cock suddenly expanded to an impossible length and thickness, stretching her slippery folds to their limits amidst her plaintive moans. And then, the beefy cock seemed suddenly closer to a more normal size, as it pressed against the drooling confines of her cunt. His meat circled and twisted within her, then another strange increase in size, or was it a thrust? With a wet slurp, her slit was filled with a velvety shaft to challenge the thickness of a beercan. Juices squirted luridly from the moist junction between the mating couple as she cackled with frantic delight. She was as confused as she was joyful.

As their naked legs ground against each other, the smooth skin of her toes rubbed against his cold, dark hooves as he grunted. She moaned in forbidden delight, feeling truly like an animal. A rutting, four-breasted she-beast being bred by her hairy stud. He swiped his hands over the dangling hardness of her plump udders, teasing the taut nipples of each. Tingling currents of electric passion coursed through Nancy's flesh, as if her sopping pussy needed any encouragement. The licking began then. A rough tongue criss-crossed the bare flesh of her back, mapping out sensual routes from the small of her back, the elegant cuve of her spine, towards the firm musculature of her upper torso and shoulders. A girl needed mighty back muscles to carry around a rack like this. Again his cock jerked and twisted within the soul of her womanhood.

She realized it then, the dick of a Satyr, (this satyr anyway) could become whatever the woman needed; whatever she was able to handle. Sergei was a match for all sorts of human women regardless of size, or style of lovemaking. His cock could become anything, any size necessary to do its work of forcing a woman towards orgasm. It was near, she sensed. Like a spear in the back driving a condemned man

forward, so to was his cock pushing, compelling her towards ultimate sexual climax. She needed to know; Nancy had to know...

Snarling with lust, she bent her head forward, while grinding her hips backwards, meeting Sergei's rough thrusts with one of her own. "G-gimme more! M-more!!" she moaned. The Satyr was only able to last a scant few seconds. The pieces fell into place then, and Nancy understood. Wave after spurting wave of hot cum bathing her womb gave her the answer. As the spurting bounty of his male gift jetted into the secret confines of her flesh, the orgasm detonated. Cum was the key; the fertility magic would not allow her to ever orgasm unless she was shot full of creamy spunk from a potent male.

She was a ragdoll. It was not the strong hands of her lover that held her in bondage. But the explosive frenzy of her own orgasm. The pleasure took control of her limbs, her spine, all her senses as she jerked in naked glee upon the carpeted floor. The satyr gripped her, as her hips bucked, as her breasts wobbled tremulously. Her breathing was rough and ragged even as she fell into the dark embrace of sleep.

Really, Sergei was a great guy, er... fae... creature... whatever. He even helped her with her breasts. Kneading and cajoling her vast bosoms, he milked her teats, relieving the pressure that was building up faster of late. Some went into her special bottles attached to the breastpump, the rest went into Sergei's laughing mouth. Nancy was able to lie back, enjoying the sensuous lavishing as her fecund bounty spurted from hard nipples at the behest of the Satyr's hands. The heat and redness diminished at last, and she let out a sigh of relief as her dribbling mammaries were emptied. Hmm... a little more than a gallon, wait... but Sergei had drank a lot. Right now, she had bottled more than enough to complete her rounds as a Wetnurse. Her production seemed to be greater than ever. And strangely, the thought of her milky boobs getting out of control filled her with a bizarre, perverse delight.

Sergei began rubbing her belly; no doubt in his mind that she was pregnant. But Nancy knew better, she had planned for this, and planned well. She would enjoy the stares and attention from her prodigious bosom, but she wasn't about to become some magical slut, constantly grinding out babies while trying to seduce the OBGYN. She was smarter than that. Nancy had a plan.

It was just as well that Sergei didn't notice the spell-circle Nancy had painted on the floor of the apartment; she didn't really want to tell him about the spell she used; the ultimate in magical contraception. Well, that wasn't really right; her spell didn't prevent her from getting pregnant... The auburn-haired human chuckled at her own cunning while fondling her many nipples. It merely transported her pregnancy to someone else! By stealing personal effects of her victims, the spell switched the pregnancy from her own body randomly to another! She had picked well; slutty girls that were known to dabble in magic were her targets. Like that Cartwright girl! Nancy knew she had a soft spot in her heart, (and crotch) for musician, artsy types. And everyone knew that she was magically enhancing her boobs; she could at least own up to it like Nancy. And then, there were those annoying nymph twins, or that elf-bitch from the Sigma-Epsilon-Xi fraternity. (The fae thought that was hilarious) Well, she'd taken lipstick, socks, and strands of hair surreptitiously from them all. All people that had snubbed her in the past. If only Nancy had not overlooked the single strand of hair, that hair from her roommate's pillow that had floated into the spell-circle. As she began the complex routine of strapping up her multi-tiered bra, Nancy again permitted a chuckle to escape her lips. All these girls often used magic of many sorts, and they were all sluts; no one would believe that they didn't cause their own conditions! That was the trick with magic; it often surprised you.

She didn't like to be restricted. Fauna wanted to use the same pommel horse as the men did during her gymnastics routine; but for the girl's event the bar was lowered. Though she thought that was unnecessary. Her lithe form swung and twisted through an elaborate, acrobatic routine upon the bars with supernatural ease. Not surprising; since Fauna was herself a supernatural creature. Mountain Nymphs, Oreads in the ancient Greek, were well accustomed to the demands of a modern gymnast; and the girl was glad that such events existed when she and her sister had first arrived on Earth.

Sleek legs carried her to the Uneven bars next, and the crowd murmured in approval at the prancing grace of the cords of muscle dancing beneath her flesh. Her sleek leotard bulged outward with tits no larger than what humans called a DD-cup. Fauna didn't know what that meant, but her small bosoms were all part of the sacrifice she made. She couldn't help but reflect momentarily on her peculiarity, as she hoisted herself into a somersault. Her sharply pointed ears perked upwards as she strained with the effort of balancing herself with arms alone.