Plot. An Asian woman is forced to have a pregnant-looking belly, her ass permanently plugged, have all her pubic hair removed, and only wear slutty panties. She is currently bed bound and being taken advantage of by her partner.
Chapter 5 of the Mei series
POV. Work of fiction.
Upon entering the room, her partner's gaze fixated on the extraordinary sight of Mei, immobile on the bed. Her abdomen ballooned almost beyond natural limits, the saline-injected silicone implant inside her creating an immense, round dome. The sheer size of her belly rendered her a captive to the bed, her belly inflated to resemble a woman at the peak of a quadruplet pregnancy.
Her skin, stretched taut and shiny over the saline swell revealed her deep desire for belly inflation. The colossal orb of her belly forced her to lie back, her movements reduced to pitiful, straining rocks from side to side. Each shift was a reminder of her own mass—an arousing reminder of her current, willful state.
"More than I could have fantasized," she silently confessed, arousal prickling within as she contemplated her own engorged state. There was no hiding the raw sexuality of her expanded form: she was a vessel of desire, her once flat stomach now an extreme representation of fertility, both prison and temple to her fetish.
The certainty that her partner would use her however he desired ignited a thrill within her. Mei's body—massive, exaggerated, and intentionally objectified—was primed for his exploitation. She was an instrument of his pleasure, poised for any indulgence he would impose on her, regardless of her swollen, overstretched state.
As she lay there, it was hard for her to wrap her mind around the truth: she had asked for this, pleaded for it with a burning passion. The memory was clear - caught up in the heat of the moment, driven wild by her arousal, she had expressed a deep fantasy. She had wanted this; to be so large that she couldn't even walk, her physical mobility sacrificed on the altar of her sexual wants.
Leaning in close, he whispered in her ear. "Look at yourself, Mei," he said, his voice a velvety caress. "Can you see how huge you are? How much your belly's swollen? You're so round...so pregnant-looking." His hand traced down her round, silicone-enhanced belly, the sensation sending shivers down her spine.
"Looks like you're truly stuck, aren't you?" he observed, an edge of satisfaction in his voice. His gaze lingered on the glossy sheen of her skin that stretched tightly over her saline-inflated belly. "You wanted this," he reminded her gently, yet with an undeniable trace of dominance. "To be so full, so heavy, that you couldn't even move without my help."
Each word was emphasized by his finger tracing circles on her swollen belly. The contrast of the cold air against her warming skin heightened her awareness. With each circle his finger drew, Mei felt a twinge of excitement alongside her embarrassment. "It's shameful, how wet I am right now," she confessed in a hushed tone.
Her words became a murmur. "My state is awakening something in me—something unexplored and altogether... liberating." She let out a soft moan, her body responding in its own way, as if confirming her acceptance of the overwhelming condition she found herself in. "The fullness, the heaviness... it's frightening, but it's also exhilarating in a way I can't deny."
•
The enormity of Mei’s belly dictated her movement - or more accurately, her lack of movement. With it grounding her to the bed’s mattress, her usual gestures—slightly waddling, provocatively meandering—were replaced by a resigned stillness. "This is what you deserve," he replied, his words a potent mix of domination and sensual promise. The statement hung there in the silence, both a reminder of her powerlessness in her current state and a reinforcement of her willingly assumed role.
"You can't even see your own pussy, can you?" He delighted in the flush of embarrassment that spread across her face. Mei squirmed under his scrutiny, her cheeks heating up as she bit her lower lip. Her belly was so obscenely large, obscuring her view of her own body. It left her exposed and vulnerable, making her angular cheeks flush crimson.
"I—I can't," Mei stuttered, the heat of her blush deepening with each word. "My belly’s too... too big. But that’s nothing new. I haven’t been able to see my pussy for a while," she said, her voice betraying the arousal that came from such helpless exposure. "I feel... I feel so slutty... and so... utterly helpless," she admitted, her words breaking with the weight of her confession.
Mei shifted uncomfortably, her swollen belly a pronounced reminder of her vulnerability. "I'm... at your—," she paused, her breath catching, the rawness of her position cutting through her stutter. "It's just so... so, much," she managed to whisper, surrendering to the strange exhilaration that coursed through her.
She stuttered, searching for an apt response. "It... it's so... I..." she faltered, unable to articulate the mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through her. "Overwhelming?" He supplied the word she was searching for as he let his fingertips trace her bloated belly. Her breath hitched with the contact.
"Yes... overwhelming," she replied, her voice barely a whisper, her embarrassment palpable. There was a feeling of being out of control, of being helpless that surged through her, and she found, surprisingly, that it turned her on even more.
"And this is exactly how I want you." He placed his hand on her belly, and she instinctively squirmed with need. "Helpless. Desperate. Needy."
•
Her chest heaved, and with a surge of boldness, she parted her lips, her voice a direct purr, "I'm dripping with want, so fucking horny." She arched her back slightly, sending ripples across the vast surface that held her immobile. "My pussy is soaked, aching, and I'm absolutely stuck—every inch of me is craving your touch."
The stark realization of her circumstance clashed with a strange sense of acceptance. She felt her insides clench and unclench thanks to her partner's explicitly confident allure. The pink g-string she was wearing quickly grew increasingly wet with arousal. Mei could barely get the words out, she was so aroused at her predicament. "I-I'm so...so...soaked. I'm..." she moaned, squirming against the bedsheets.
"You're going to give me what I want, aren't you?" he prompted. "Y-yes," she said in a weak, almost breathless voice.
"I can do anything I want to you." His voice dropped to a whisper, his words a callous reminder of her circumstances, confirmed by the hungry look in his eyes. "You can't even get out of this bed," he said, his hands roaming her body.
"I—I never imagined... I'd go this far," Mei gasped between ragged breaths, her plea saturated with disbelief and desire. The strain of her voice mirrored the strain against her own skin—tight, filled to the brim. "Too swollen... so overstuffed..." she whimpered, her words broken by her erratic breathing. She quivered under the weight of her own enormity, hyper-aware of every inch of her that was stretched and rounded, engorged beyond reason. "Please... it's too much... I feel so indecent," she begged, her tone desperate, the edge of her voice raw with the need for relief, her plea unabashed and uninhibited.
"You think I'm going to let you back out now?" His voice was steady, laced with a hint of authority as he eyed her ample form. "After you've begged and pleaded for it, to be this full, this desperate?" He let the question hang in the air, a reminder of the commitment she had made to her desires.
"I love having you this way," he said, his words a soft but firm declaration. He traced a finger slowly over the curve of her distended abdomen. "So full, round, so at my mercy." His hand settled with gentle possessiveness, emphasizing his claim. "You wanted this, and I intend to relish every moment of it."
"Your skin, can it even go back to how it was?" He observed the stretched, glistening surface of her belly, his tone teasing yet laced with possessiveness. "You're so tight, so gloriously swollen—you look knocked up to the max, ready to burst."
He let out a satisfied hum, his fingers pressing into her bulging midsection, feeling the incredible tension. "Feeling you like this, so inflated, helpless, so pregnant-looking, it's fucking hot." His hand moved in a slow, deliberate circle around her navel. "Every inch of you is engorged, your belly stretched out smooth and shiny, just how I love it—like you're carrying four. It's going to be permanently distended from how much I've filled you up."
A shiver tore through Mei at his words, her breath hitching from the intense mix of pleasure and pressure that wrapped around her like a vice. "It feels so tight...” she panted, the stretched sensation almost unbearable, “Like my skin is going to split." Her hands fluttered to her sides, fingers splayed in an instinctive attempt to soothe the tautness. "I’m so full... it’s too much," she moaned, even as her body betrayed a longing for more, hips tilting involuntarily, seeking his touch, craving the reaffirmation of her engorged state.
His hands, firm yet cautious explored her overextended midsection, his fingers occasionally dipped lower, grazing areas that sent involuntary spasms of desire through her engorged body. "Too much? Not at all," he declared, his voice dripping with arousal. "Look at you—stretched and rounded like you're carrying quadruplets, your skin shiny and tight." He watched, visibly excited, as her gigantic belly rose and fell with her labored breaths. "I love how your belly button is pushed out."
"Ah," Mei's breath escaped her lips in sharp gasps, the sensation bordering on the edge of pleasure and panic. "It's too tight... I'm scared it might be too much," she confessed, her voice wavering. Yet as he continued to touch her, she couldn't stifle a moan, her hips betraying her by pushing toward his hands.
•
She whimpered, locking eyes with him, a silent plea evident in her gaze. The fear of her possible bursting blended with the undeniable hunger for the pressure to continue, to escalate. "I shouldn't like this... but I do. I want it." The mix of arousal, the visceral thrill of her skin on the verge of tearing, it all mounted within her, pushing her towards an edge she had never before dared to approach.
"Are you listening to me? You seriously believe there's any going back from this?" he asked, hands expertly roaming over her vast, distended belly, his touch firm and confident, mirroring the authority in his voice.
"No," Mei fired back quickly, her tone a cocktail of anxiety and dismissal. "That's impossible... I can't be stuck like this," she argued, a desperate edge lacing her words as if trying to convince herself more than him.
He paused, letting his eyes travel the expanse of her distention before meeting her gaze squarely. "Really, Mei?" The question was simple, heavy with implication. He resumed his caressing, each stroke resonating through her skin.
Feeling the pressure of his hands, the permanence of his inquiry bore down on her, and Mei faltered. Her breath caught as the denial she clung to wavered, her mind awash with the stark reality of her situation. "Maybe... oh god... you could be right," she admitted, the struggle visibly draining out of her. The truth of her irrevocably altered figure sparked a deep, carnal recognition.
"I am right," he insisted softly, leaning in, stroking the drum-taut surface of her belly. "You've made our fantasy your reality."
Dread intermingled with a perverse thrill, a crush of emotions that competed for space within her. "But my body, it's... it's..." she trailed off, unable to complete the admission.
"It's what? Say it," he urged gently but persistently.
"It's ruined," Mei finally conceded, whispering the words as if speaking them would conjure the reality she faced. Yet in that concession, a powerful wave of arousal swept through her, a visceral response to the permanence of her condition. Acceptance dawned, dark and sweet, and in its wake, it brought an intense sense of arousal that was tied irrevocably to the gravity of her transformation. "And that... that turns me on more than anything," she confessed, her voice a blend of humility and a raw, uninhibited hunger.
•
Her chest heaved with the weight of panic, eyes wide as the initial terror of her permanent alteration set in. "I can't... I've gone too far this time," Mei panted, her fingers skimming over the taut, shiny surface of her belly, the reality of her predicament closing in like walls.
But then, through the fog of her fear, a peculiar sense of yearning began to bud—twisted, dark, and entirely irresistible. She could see her future in the stretched canvas of her skin, a future where she'd plead for more, driven by the insatiable hunger that clung to the fringes of her adrenaline-spiked panic.
"Oh god," she whispered, the groundswell of her arousal washing over her in a deep, relentless tide. Her whisper carried a fragile edge. "What if I want to go bigger, even when I feel like I'm on the verge of bursting right now?" Mei questioned, the tension in her palpable as she cradled the expanse of her taut belly.
He watched her, noting the flush of her cheeks, the dilation of her pupils, the way her body seemed to rock subtly towards him—a moth to the flame of her own destruction. "You will," he assured her, his voice a velvet shadow that draped over her senses. "And when you do, you'll have to beg even more. Won't you, Mei?"
"You feel like you're about to burst, but you and I both know that sensation fades," he soothed her, his voice a balm to the intensity of her anxiety. "The tightness eases, your body adapts, and soon enough, that lack of pressure becomes a craving for more fullness—an even more splendid roundness."
She swallowed hard, the conflicting emotions crashing together inside her like violent waves against a fragile shore. Despite the dread's potent grip, a daring and dangerous anticipation for the next indulgence sparked. It was madness, yet it was her madness, and she was tethered to it now, perhaps more securely than ever before.
•
After a moment, his hand slowly reached down to the moist fabric of her skimpy panties. The thin, damp material clung onto her hairless pussy, further proof of her excitement. Instinctively, she expanded her legs invitingly, her g-string barely concealing her pussy.
"I do see how wet you are, my slut," he taunted, a smug grin pulling at his lips. His fingers teasingly stroked the outer edge of her g-string, the simple touch enough to make her gasp. "Seems like you were built for this, for me." He let out a low chuckle at her reaction, successfully stripping her of any remaining resistance.
"I'm going to enjoy fucking this big, pregnant-looking body of yours when you're ready." She was panting now, her hands on her belly, her fingers digging into the flesh.
"What do you mean when I'm ready?" she countered with a hint of frustration lacing her breathless tone. "Why am I not ready now? Why can't you fuck me right now?" Her words tumbled out, a mix of eager yearning and disbelief at the delay, the recent changes rendering her unusually needy. Her wide-eyed anticipation responded with an impassioned whimper as his fingers teased her pussy in a slow dance.
"I—I'm ready," Mei gasped out, the arousal and anticipation leaving her voice trembling and uneven. "Look—look at how wet my slut panties are," she implored him in a breathless whisper, emphasizing her readiness with the damp evidence of her desire.
Her partner raised an eyebrow, amusement tinged with intrigue at her choice of words. "What's that you're calling them now?" he inquired, a playful note underlying his deep voice as he encouraged her to articulate her desires.
Her breath caught, a faint moan escaping her as his fingers traced her arousal through the flimsy fabric, the slow, deliberate dance around her pussy pushing her further into a state of needy urgency. "I don't understand why I have to wait," she continued, the frustration mixing with a palpable hunger in her voice. "I need it now. Why can't you see I'm ready? I'm so, so ready for you to fuck me right now," she insisted, barely able to keep the pleading whimpers at bay.
His gaze traveled across her large, gravid belly, taking in the fullness that transformed her figure, the way it rose high and taut. He noted the flush that colored her exposed skin—a warm blush that betrayed her deepening arousal. Her body seemed to glow with an intense need.
Catching her hands as they fluttered over her belly, moving down to graze the fabric of her panties, he tilted his head, observing her actions with a mixture of fascination and desire.
"What did you just call these?" he asked, the corner of his mouth curling into an intrigued smile as he nodded toward the dampened fabric.
Mei's cheeks burned with embarrassment, her eyes darting away for an instant before meeting his gaze again. She squirmed under his watchful eye, the motion sending a quiver through her large gravid belly, the sight both mortifying and oddly thrilling to her.
Her hands, prevented from any further exploration by his firm grip, left her feeling even more exposed and helpless. She chewed on her bottom lip, a silent, physical struggle not to voice the words that seemed to increase her embarrassment tenfold.
Noticing her hesitance, he prompted her gently yet firmly, "Well, what did you call them?"
Her eyes shifted away, unable to hold his gaze as she wrestled with the burning shame and the secret thrill it carried. Mei shifted again, a subtle, squirming motion that made her belly jiggle conspicuously.
"Sl—slut... panties," she mumbled almost inaudibly, the words stumbling out of her in a rush of breath, her voice laced with shyness and a tantalizing hint of arousal. Her face was a portrait of embarrassment, yet the glint in her eyes and the unmistakable flush on her cheeks spoke volumes of the conflicting desire that held her captive in this moment of raw vulnerability.
"Slut panties," she said again, a touch louder this time, forcing the words out despite the tight knot of embarrassment in her throat. Her admission, coupled with the awkward jostle of her gravid form, was laced with a shy, titillating energy. "That's—that's what I called them," she confessed, her cheeks now painted in deeper shades of red, the admission making her arousal all the more evident.
With a knowing smirk, he leaned back ever so slightly, his eyes glittering with a touch of mischief. "Funny, I remember you saying it was degrading when I first called them your slut panties," he teased, the memory fresh in his mind. "You even accused me of tricking you into wearing them. So tell me, what's changed? Is this newfound acceptance just because you're horny?" he prompted, deftly nudging her to confront the shift in her perspective.
Releasing her hands from his, she placed them tentatively on her hips, tracing the edge of the thong string. "Yes, I'm horny," she confessed, a playful glint replacing the vulnerability in her eyes for a moment. "But it's more than that. It's the acceptance. Accepting that I like the degradation of your words, the weight of the plug, the control you have... It's a part of me that enjoys feeling... owned."
His expression softened slightly at her confession, the mix of her embarrassment and arousal clearly pleasing to him. He maintained his firm grip on her hands, yet there was a hint of approval in his eyes.
"That's right," he affirmed, his voice steady and composed, contrasting with her flustered state. "Now, isn't that much better? Openness is what we value, isn't it?" His tone coaxed her further out of her shell, encouraging her honesty despite the blush that refused to fade from her cheeks.
•
"You've just been had all that silicone injected into your womb," he stated plainly, his voice clear with a dominant edge. "Your body has to get used to the added volume. As much as the idea of fucking you with your belly so freshly full and large excites me, I won't risk your safety while your body is getting used to the extra weight." His gaze was fixed on her, intent and possessive. "It's about keeping you in good shape, not just for your own sake, but because I can't have my property damaged. After all, you are mine to enjoy, and I need you healthy for that—alive and well, always ready for when I decide it's time."
Her cheeks flushed with a mix of shame, anticipation and arousal as she absorbed his words, the confirmation of her owned state igniting something primal within her. Swallowing hard, she cast her eyes downward, a silent admission of her submission.
"I understand," she whispered, the heat in her voice betraying the internal conflict of her desire to disobey against the deep-seated need to be possessed. "I'm... I'm sorry for being so impatient." She shifted delicately.
Her breath caught, hitching with need as she added in a small, desperate voice, "It's just so hard to wait when I want you so much, when I'm so helpless to your touch. I feel so full and... and it makes me want you even more." Her admission thrummed with the truth of her arousal, the desire to be taken, used, even in her current, vulnerable state, undeniable and overpowering.
Biting her lip, she hesitated, her voice laced with a concoction of embarrassment and unmistakable arousal. "The size of my belly," she murmured, almost in awe, "it's just... it makes me so incredibly horny." There was a raw edge to her words as she spoke them, a tangible sense of herself being objectified by her own statement, reduced to the enormity of her form and the primal desires it inspired.
"Being this round, this helpless—it's obscene," she confessed, her breaths heavy, "and yet, the thought of being seen like this, merely an object of desire, it's disgustingly exciting."
"I love seeing you this way," he affirmed, his voice low and steady, a well of strength she could anchor to amid the storm of her feelings. "Never be ashamed of this—of who you are with me, of what I’ve turned you into. Your helplessness, your fullness, even your disgust, it's real, it's raw... it's beautiful."
His eyes devoured her, taking in the sight that so stirred him. "God," he murmured, his tone heavy with a palpable lust, "the way you're torn between disgust and desire... it's incredibly arousing to me." His admission hung between them.
•
The morning light streamed through the window, casting warm rays over Mei's immobile form as she awoke to her third day confined to the bed. The previous days seemed like a blur— grappling with the consequences of her extreme transformation.
She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position within the limited scope her girth allowed. The saline infusion had proven to be effective beyond her wildest dreams, or perhaps, more accurately, her wildest fantasies.
Her partner had become everything to her: caretaker, feeder, and the keeper of her most intimate needs. Every time he assisted her—bringing meals, helping her use the bedpan, adjusting her swollen body for comfort. Each request served as a reminder of her helplessness, punctuating her dependency with a mix of gratitude and a twinge of guilt.
Mei's partner approached with a softness in his eyes, looking down at her expansive, immobilized form. "How are you doing?" he asked gently, his voice laced with genuine concern.
Despite her immobilized state and the complexity of her emotions, Mei mustered a small smile—a mixture of gratitude and subtle anticipation. "I'm... managing," she replied, her voice a mixture of sincerity and the feigned whimsy she felt was expected in such a vulnerable state. "It's not easy being like this, but you're taking such good care of me. I feel... thankful and, oddly enough, a little excited by the whole situation."
He pulled up a chair close to the bed. "How are you really feeling about all this?" he probed, his eyes searching hers for the truth that lay beneath the facade of her bravado.
Mei's eyes, tinged with vulnerability, locked with his as she sifted through her tumult of feelings. With each subtle shift, she was acutely aware of the unyielding stretch of the plug in her ass, a sensation that brought both discomfort and a strange sense of fulfillment.
"It's... overwhelming," she began, her voice a whisper of honesty. She raised a hand to rest lightly on the curve of the silicone belly, tracing its roundness. "I'm not used to being this big," she admitted, a flicker of disquiet in her gaze as she acknowledged the weight and size of her faux pregnancy.
Her hand swept over the impressive curve of her belly, so ripe and full it was as if she were on the cusp of giving birth. "My belly, it's enormous..." she murmured, her voice laced with wonder and a hint of trepidation as she cradled the vast expanse. "I know I asked for this, the weight, the fullness... but it's overwhelming." Her breath hitched slightly, the faintest sigh punctuating the intimate confession of her transformed, gravid form.
"And this," she continued, shifting ever-so-slightly, her movements labored under the heft of her belly. "The plug... Some days it's like I can't even feel it's there, which is scary, and others, it's all I can think about." Mei shifted again, a wince as the plug stretched her further, the reminder of her anal training unspoken yet implicit in her grimace.
"It wasn't my idea," she confessed with a glance upward, "but it feels necessary. Like I'm... dependent on it now, for me to be who you... who we want me to be." Her eyes swam with complex thoughts, a dance of dependence and desire.
He watched as Mei's expression shifted to one of discomfort and contemplation. Captivated by her vulnerability, he inquired gently, yet with a flicker of curiosity burning in his eyes, "Why does it scare you, not being able to feel the plug at times? What does it signify for you?"
Mei met his gaze, a vulnerability flickering across her features. "It scares me because feeling it reminds me that I'm still... intact, that I haven't completely lost myself to this training yet. When I can't sense it, it's like my body has accepted the plug as a part of me—like my resistance is breaking down, and it's just another piece of my reality now," she explained, her voice a soft admission of her internal struggle.
Mei brought her hands up to her breasts, cradling them with a hint of protectiveness. "These, too, they're part of it... You haven't said anything, but I know you want them bigger." She spoke with a note of conflict, the knowledge of his unvoiced desire weighing on her as much as the silicone belly did physically.
Her body and mind were a tableau of adaptation to his desires, a living embodiment of their shared fantasy—one wrought with the growing pains of transformation. "It's just..." She paused, searching for the right words. "It's the fantasy, isn't it? Yours, mine... Living it out in the flesh. It's hard, but it's also everything I... we wanted." Her confession hung in the air, a blend of discomfort and desire, the essence of her current reality.
"Please, don't go easy on me just because I'm like this," Mei stated simply, her gaze steady and earnest as she met his.
They sat for a moment in a taut silence, sharing a look that carried the entire weight of their shared journey. Then, almost imperceptibly, his expression softened. Was it concern? Hesitance? She noticed his eyes were not quite as they were seconds before, a shadow of doubt flickering within—the merest hint that perhaps he questioned the path they tread.
Mei sensed the flicker of doubt in his eyes and knew she had to speak her truth, to remind him of their deeply rooted trust and mutual consent. "Listen to me," she urged, her voice firm, a directive that called him back from the edge of his uncertainty. "You haven't gone too far. Remember, it was me who first mentioned wanting to explore belly inflation, and you—you were honest about everything from the start."
•
She reached down, touching the wide expanse of her silicone-filled belly, a tribute to her initial curiosity and their shared exploration. "You laid out your desires clearly: the hairless cunt and ass, the ideas of breast enlargement... and yes, you were forceful, assertive with what you wanted from me, from us. But it's a forcefulness I crave." Mei’s eyes blazed with sincerity, leaving no room for doubt.
Shifting her weight, the reminder of the plug's presence prompted a small, knowing smile, a nod to her internal struggle and acceptance. "I've never been in the dark about your intentions. You've always respected me enough to be upfront. If there was something I didn't want, truly didn't want," she emphasized, pressing her hand against his chest to feel the beat of his heart, "you know I would say no."
“This is about us, about you asserting your control, and me being the object of your desire, modified to your liking," she said with a fervor that breathed life into her deepest yearnings. "You know I don't mind how 'slutty' you want me, how 'disgusting' society might think these alterations are. If it fuels your desire, if it keeps you entranced, I am fulfilled."
She caressed her artificially expanded belly with a hint of pride, the visual proof of her commitment to their shared fantasy. "My body is a vessel for your pleasure, redesigned and remolded to keep your passion alive. That's my kink, that's my need—to be the canvas on which you paint whatever your heart desires." Mei looked up at him, eyes gleaming with a mixture of submission and pleasure.
"As long as you're here with me, as long as you don't leave, I'll embrace whatever shape or form you wish of me. I don't just accept every new challenge—we face it together because it brings us both what we crave," she implored, her voice a sultry promise that she was his to shape, in the pursuit of their mutual satisfaction.
As his eyes met hers, filled with a mix of desire and doubt, Mei understood the unspoken question that haunted him even amidst their mutual abandon. It was a shadow that marred their most intimate moments, the fear of having taken their shared fantasies too far.
Without a word, she reached out, taking his hand with a confident touch and sliding it down to the thin strip of fabric that was her underwear—a g-string so minimal it seemed an afterthought against her skin, her flesh pressing boldly against its limitations.
"Look at me," Mei urged, her voice low and steady, yet thick with arousal. "And feel this." Her gaze locked onto his as she pressed his hand more firmly against the damp warmth that betrayed her excitement. "These are what you call my 'slut' panties, aren't they? These are more than just panties," Mei's voice was husky, laced with the thrill of their shared secret. "They're a symbol of my willingness, what you require of me, and my eagerness to fulfill those needs."
The unmistakable evidence of her arousal smeared against his fingertips, and Mei reveled in the undeniable answer it provided. "You think I would be soaking through these if I didn't love what you've done to me?" she challenged, her expression a daring mix of challenge and consent. "My body's response doesn't lie—I'm as into this as you are," she declared, the wetness he felt a signature on their unspoken contract, sealing her approval.
"Your doubt doesn't stand a chance against my need for you," she murmured, her voice threading the air with conviction and intense longing. "Especially not when your pussy is this soaked, just for you."
She emphasized 'your', letting the possessive linger, a deliberate nod to her delight in being objectified, in being his to claim.
He looked at her, the doubt washed away by the clarity of her craving, his smile unfurling slowly, a silent tribute to their unique bond. "You have no idea how much it means to me, hearing you embrace this so fully," he said warmly, his voice carrying the weight of both relief and joy. "Knowing you love being what I desire, that you find fulfillment in this—it's a gift beyond words."
He drew her in, his hands mapping the landscape of her body with a reverence that spoke of permanence. "I will always be here for you," he whispered, his breath feathering across her skin, "and I will never grow tired of us, of this." His lips found hers in a kiss soft and loving, conveying the depth of his devotion to their shared canvas of desires. "My darling, my slut, my love for you is unwavering," he murmured between kisses, the tenderness in his touch reaffirming his promise.
•
The lingering kiss slowly broke, the warmth between them a palpable force, and they stepped back from the precipice of their raw exchange into the familiar dance they knew so well. He lifted his chin, his gaze settling over her with a renewed assertion of power—a silent cue signaling the return to their intrinsic roles. She caught the shift, a flicker of understanding flashing in her eyes as her posture subtly changed, her body yielding, head bowed in a display of submission.
He reemerged into view holding a Hitachi vibrator, its bulbous head and sturdy handle signaling its potential for intense pleasure. He circled her, the room charged with the electricity of their dynamic, his fingers lightly grazing her skin in a proprietary manner that silently laid claim to her. "Now, where were we?" he intoned, his voice low and commanding, every word laced with the dominance that was his alone.
As he adjusted the Hitachi's settings, the low hum of the vibrator became noticeable. He leaned in, his eyes locked onto hers, the gap between them charged with expectation, "What was it you said about your breasts? About their size?" he questioned, his voice barely above the mechanical drone.
She glanced away, a hint of pink dusting her cheeks, the question igniting a swirl of shyness within her. "I thought... maybe you'd prefer them... larger," she stuttered, her voice nearly lost in the silent confession, her body tensing slightly at the memory of his previous remarks.
He noticed the blush, the way her eyes darted away, the subtle bite of her lip. "And why would you think that?" His inquiry was gentle but edged with an authority that drew a soft gasp from her.
She shifted uncomfortably, the arousal and the faint brush of fear mingling as she toyed with the edge of her sleeve, not meeting his gaze. "Because you... you mentioned it once," she admitted in a hushed tone, the words spilling out in a rush as though too hot to hold inside.
"Didn't you also mention feeling conflicted?" he prodded further, his tone even but probing. "You believed they were already quite adequate in size. Tell me, what makes you think they're large enough?"
She wrapped her arms around herself instinctively, a barrier that might hide her vulnerability. "It's just..." she began, voice wavering with coiled emotions, "I already had the surgery once for you, and it's... sometimes it's like they're too much.”
As the vibrator's buzzing head made fleeting contact with her clit, a shiver raced through her body, breaking her train of thought. She gasped, but quickly gathered herself to add hastily, “They draw so much attention," Her voice wavered, but she pushed on, the sensations still rippling through her. "It's hard to find clothes that fit properly, and my back, it aches sometimes.” She dared to meet his gaze for a fleeting moment, hoping he'd see the truth in her eyes.
He tilted his head, his gaze sliding down to the pronounced curve of her abdomen. "But what about your belly?" he began, his tone deliberate. "It already draws more attention, does it not? After all, you didn't just ask—you begged to have it increased. Looking like you were pregnant with twins wasn't enough for you; you wanted the heft of quadruplets."
Mei's fingers fluttered to the great expanse of her midsection, the taut skin a reminder of the extents to which she'd already gone. She held it gently, as if to protect the decision she once made, while struggling to find the words. Her eyes flitted away, then back to him, a stammer catching in her throat. "It's different," she insisted weakly, "My belly... it's not the same as—"
"What's the difference, Mei?" he insisted, his voice cutting through the tension. As he pressed the vibrator's head against her clit, the unyielding vibrations forced a sharp gasp from her lips.
Heart pounding, Mei's breaths came in ragged gasps, each one syncopated with the relentless throbbing of the device against her most sensitive spot. The constant stimulation overrode her ability to concentrate, leaving her struggling to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak them.
He watched her, the silence growing heavy between them. "If I told you I wanted them bigger," he said finally, each word deliberate, "would you do it?"
She felt the weight of his gaze like an anchor, pulling her deeper into the confession he sought. Her lips parted, but no words escaped—a small nod was all she could manage. The intensity of the vibrator against her oversensitive clit pulled high-pitched squeals from her lips, each one a crescendo of acute stimulation. With desperate eyes, she looked at him and pleaded, voice breaking, "Please, move it... I can't take--" before the sensations cut her off mid-sentence.
Her body tensed, muscles contracting involuntarily under the relentless barrage of the vibrator. She nodded, not just a subtle gesture this time, but a violent bob of her head—each nod a vehement plea for him to shift the punishing device away from her now throbbing nerve center.
He began to pace, each step measured, the room shrinking with the gravity of his presence. His eyes, sharp and assessing, flickered back to her, tracing the contours of uncertainty etched on her face. Abruptly stopping, he reached out, his hands cradling her face with a firm tenderness that anchored her to the moment. "You would, wouldn't you?" he pressed, his voice a potent blend of challenge and command. "You'd get bigger breast implants if I told you to, wouldn't you?"
His words were a velvet hammer, pushing past her defenses. "Even with all the discomfort," he added, his tone insistent, pinning her with a gaze that brooked no evasion, "the aching back, the trouble finding clothes, bras, the undue attention—but it's not like you're out in public much. Even with all of that, you'd still do it."
Her chest rose and fell with a trembling breath, a flush spreading across her cheeks. "Yes," she whispered, the word stretched thin over the torrent of feelings within. Her arousal, kindled by his assertiveness and her own submissive yearning, battled with the shyness that made her want to fold in upon herself. "I would... if you wanted it," she finally admitted, her voice laced with a complex tapestry of desire to please him and her private trepidations.
He felt the tremble in her admission, the sweet tension in her acquiescence. "That's what I thought," he said softly, a note of victory softening the edge of his voice. He didn't need her to consider; he required her obedience. With a practiced touch, he repositioned the vibrator, now a gentle purr against her slick, swollen folds, a soothing yet insistent invitation. The shifting tempo promised a different kind of release, one that she chased with rising whimpers and an urgent rocking of her hips, her body eager to spiral into the crescendo of pleasure.
The air between them seemed to grow thick with his assertive stance, as he leaned in ever so slightly, holding her captive in the intensity of the moment. "What if I told you, as soon as you're no longer bedridden, you're getting larger tits?" The words fell from his lips with the certainty of an edict, unyielding and explicit in their intent.
Her eyes widened, the initial shock rippled across her features, yet she couldn't tear her gaze away from his. She swallowed hard, her throat constricting with the swell of emotions that his pronouncement ushered forth. His suggestion stirred a complex cauldron of trepidation and excitement within her, casting shadows of doubt yet igniting a submissive spark that responded to his dominance.
Her chest heaved with a breath drawn deep, as if to gather the courage to form words that her voice could barely carry. "I—I..." She stammered, her response a delicate dance of fear and fascination. Her skin flushed with the warmth of arousal, tinged by the rush of her shy, whispered reply, "If that's what you want... I'll do it." The words trailed off into the charged silence.
His response came quickly, a sharp retort to her tentative acceptance. "Why not? Why wouldn't I want it?" The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, pushing her to confront the underlying implications of his desires over her own.
•
As he pressed the vibrator more firmly against her, an involuntary, high-pitched squeal cut through the air. The sensation was overpowering, reducing her ability to speak coherently. She hesitated, her pulse racing as she grappled with the sensation of being pinned by his question as much as by his unwavering stare. Her lips parted, moistened by a nervous flick of her tongue as she searched for words that seemed to swirl just out of reach.
"Because—because they're..." She faltered, her voice breaking under the relentless hum against her engorged flesh. "They're part of me, and not just..." Words dissolved into gasps and her gaze fell away, her eyelids fluttering as she wrestled with her internal tug-of-war. Her lips parted to continue, but the coherent thoughts scattered, muffled by the electric buzz and the throbbing pulse it sent through her.
The relentless vibration pressed against her pushed her to the brink, her body a tremulous network of nerve endings on fire. Moisture beaded on her skin, her breaths sharp and rapid, laced with the high notes of near-climactic whimpers.
"Please...," she exhaled, the word splintering into breathy fragments, "I'll... I'll have them... enlarged... make them... make them so immense that... they dwarf your... your grasp," she heaved, her chest rising and falling in a rapid cadence. "Ballooning outwards... beyond... what they are now... massive, heavy, spilling out and over, skin stretched taut," her voice quivered with exertion, faltering as the electric sensation surged through her, pushing her closer to the edge of release.
"I'll make them bigger," she forces out, voice thick and heavy as the vibrator relentlessly works against her. "Enormous tits, thick nipples like... like they're designed to be sucked... All for you, even though I... I might hate it." Her admission is fractured by gasps, each breath she takes saturated with the intensity of her arousal and imminent climax.
His insistence was unrelenting, as he nudged for her to articulate the thoughts that lay partially concealed behind her hesitation. "Not just what?" he inquired with a press in his tone.
Caught in the push and pull of her emotions, she felt the word escape before she could cradle them back into silence. "Nothing," she mumbled, the word barely audible, a murmur lost in the gravity of the exchange.
A surge of wet warmth floods her panties as the vibrator coaxes her over the edge, the soaked fabric clinging to her, a sheer veneer that maps the contours of her release. Her muscles clench and unclench, riding out the pulses of intense pleasure that ripple through her body.
Her eyes lowered once more, the quiet admission hanging between them, signaling her retreat into the shelter of the unspoken.
•
Shaking her head slightly, as if trying to dispel the racing thoughts, she didn't meet his gaze, yet the flush staining her cheeks betrayed her. "But... I guess I don't have any say, do I?" Her voice was reluctant yet edged with her excitement, her body giving way to an unpredictable shiver of anticipation.
In an assertive, deeper growl, he challenged her again, "Whose choice is it, Mei?" His hand slipped from her equally ample breasts, travelling downwards over the round swells of her belly before stopping suddenly at the damp fabric of her g-string. "Y-yours," she admitted.
The sudden contact on her pussy elicited a gasp from Mei, shock and undisguised desire flaring within her. Her look of surprised outcry quickly transformed into a heady, lust-fueled grin, her eyes glinting with eager anticipation.
"Not...not mine," she stammered, her body quivering under his firm grasp. A vocal admission of her ultimate surrender, and as she said the words, she surrendered herself to the sweet, raw intimacy of his touch. Her pleasure was secondary, and arousal in this context was more about pleasing him than herself.
The admission prompted another chuckle from her partner, his fingers pressing harder into her throbbing pussy through the thin barrier of damp lace. His eyes, laser-focused on the erotic spectacle of Mei's face, were alight with satisfaction.
"That's right, Mei," he murmured, his tone carrying an undertone of approval as he toyed with her, his fingers insistent against her heated core. "You'll be the perfect, pregnant-looking slut soon, won't you?"
A shiver raced up Mei's spine at his words, her body tensing momentarily at the implication. "Yes," she whispered, her admission tight with a mix of fear and anticipation for the impending transformation he envisioned. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, the rush of blood loud in her ears as she imagined her breasts swelling, the thought of becoming a more extreme object of his desires both terrifying and electrifying. The relentless pressure of his fingers on her throbbing clit through the soaked fabric underscored her helplessness, the coming change inevitable and her arousal undeniable.
•
Mei’s mind wandered, tracing the paths that had led her to this moment, back to when things were simpler, yet the seeds of her current life had just been sown. The flashbacks came as vivid snapshots, the sensations almost tangible as she remembered their early days together.
She had been venting about the constant discomfort of her underwear; how the panties dug into her soft skin of her belly, how everything felt too restrictive —little irritations that seemed to puncture her daily routine. He had listened, nodding with a knowing look in his eyes.
"Why not try wearing g-strings?" he had suggested casually, as though the idea were the most natural solution in the world.
Mei remembered the disbelief that had flickered across her face, quickly followed by an instinctive skepticism. "G-strings?" she had echoed back, the word feeling foreign and risqué on her tongue. "Aren't they a bit... slutty?"
He had chuckled, a soft and comforting sound. "Only if you think of them that way," he reassured her. "They're just underwear, Mei. Less fabric means less discomfort, and it might make you feel more... liberated." His words lingered, hinting at a newfound freedom from the confines of her current underwear. "Besides, you should wear what fits you best and what you think looks good on you, not based on what others might think."
"It's...they're just always linked to being overly sexual, aren't they?" Mei's voice quivered slightly as she spoke, a visual tension knotting her brows. "G-strings are something you'd expect on someone flaunting themselves, not...not someone like me."
Her hand brushed the elastic edge of her current panties, pinching the fabric to illustrate her point, a silent contrast to the meager fabric they were discussing. "Wearing less down there... It's just... it feels indecent," she continued, fingers tensing around the cotton full-coverage panties in her grip, as if it were a lifeline anchoring her to propriety.
Her partner observed the tension in her actions. "It sounds like you're more concerned about the judgment of others than your own comfort," he remarked, his voice holding a hint of revelation as if illuminating a truth not fully acknowledged until spoken aloud. "No one else will see them, Mei. Why should their potential thoughts dictate what you wear underneath?" The question hung in the air, directed sharply at the heart of her apprehensions.
Mei's hands stilled, the previous motion of twisting the fabric of her panties ceasing as his words sank in. She met his gaze with a mix of vulnerability and the dawning realization. "It's hard not to worry about it," she admitted, her voice a mere whisper. "Even if no one sees, it's the idea of it... of someone knowing, or even guessing." Her fingers relaxed slightly, the fabric settling back against her skin. "It feels like crossing a line I'm not supposed to," she added, the weight of invisible scrutiny pressing down on her.
"And then there's the thought of going out and buying them," she muttered, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Walking into a store, picking them out... it feels like an admission, a statement I'm not ready to make." Her eyes briefly flitted away, as if the mere idea of such a public display of her intimate choice was an intrusion, leaving her exposed without the protective layer of her familiar undergarments. “Especially looking pregnant," she adds.
His eyes met hers, a tenderness within them softening the contours of his own vested interest. "What if I buy a few pairs for you, Mei?" he suggested gently, offering a solution that came threaded with his own desires for her wardrobe change. "You wouldn't have to go out and choose them; I could take care of that for you." Her partner’s voice carried a hopeful note, eager to bridge the gap between her discomfort and his preference, while also providing a shield from the judgment she feared.
"Wouldn't that be awkward for you, though?" Mei asked, a hint of disbelief lacing her voice as she pictured him amidst lace and silk, selecting garments designed to vanish beneath a woman's clothing. "I mean, a guy picking out g-strings... wouldn't you feel out of place?" Her cheeks warmed with the thought, the reality of his willingness juxtaposed with her own tentativeness, both revealing and curious.
His expression softened with an unmistakable glint of anticipation. "I would," he assured, leaning in, a warm certainty in his voice. "If it means you'd consider trying them on, seeing if you're comfortable... Yes, I'd gladly do it." He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle yet charged. "And honestly, the thought of choosing something for you, imagining the look... and the reveal," he paused, his words intentionally trailing off, "I'd really enjoy that." His gaze held hers, unabashed and earnest, willing her to understand the depth of his desire—not only for the visual delight but also for her ease with the idea.
•
Mei's fingers trembled ever so slightly as they reached out, hesitantly making contact with the fabric nestled within the bag. Her eyes were wide, a clear sign of her inner flurry—a storm of gratitude mixed with the flutter of nerves. "You really went out and got these..." her voice was a hushed mixture of awe and concern, trailing off as she struggled to process the reality presented to her.
She lifted one up, holding it by the delicate waistband, the thin fabric barely there between her fingers. Her cheeks flushed a deeper hue, a visible map of her fluster. She was venturing into uncharted territory, but his gesture—a tangible manifestation of his understanding and desire—both overwhelmed and reassured her. "It's just..." she started again, but words seemed insufficient.
The reality of its scant size seemed to dawn on her fully as she held it up, the dimensions nearly toy-like in their minimalism. "Just how..." she began, her sentence dissipating into the thick air of the moment.
"Try one on," he suggested gently, sensing her hesitation but encouraging the leap of faith. His voice carried an undercurrent of eagerness, a soft but insistent nudge towards this intimate experiment they were about to undertake together.
Swallowing the lump of apprehension that had formed in her throat, she gave a small nod of acquiescence—as much to herself as to her partner. "Okay," she said, her voice a blend of reluctance and curiosity.
Retreating to the privacy of the bathroom, Mei slid off her familiar, full-coverage underwear and hesitantly stepped into the g-string. The sensation of the thin strip of fabric was foreign and unsettling; it was the barest barrier between her skin and her clothes. As she turned to face the mirror, the scantiness of the fabric became even more evident, a sliver of material that did little to cover and left her feeling both vulnerable and daringly exposed.
She twisted slightly, viewing her reflection from different angles, a strange mix of disbelief and fascination painted across her features. This was unknown territory, far removed from the security of her usual undergarments, yet there was a distinct element of intrigue that accompanied the shock of the new experience.
The g-string wrapped tight around her hips, the fabric pressing against her front, the precise form of her vulva outlined beneath the strain of the cotton. Turning, the mirror showed the string cutting between her buttocks, parting them distinctly.
"It's like it's barely there... It’s like wearing nothing at all…" Mei murmured to her reflection, feeling the weight of the moment—the crossing of a threshold from which there might be no returning to the comforts of the old and familiar.
As Mei observed herself in the mirror, she suddenly became aware of something she hadn't thought about before—her pubic hair peeking out from the edges of the minuscule fabric, in stark defiance of the g-string's boundaries. A flush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she confronted the unexpected and very visual incompatibility.
Noticing her discomfort, her partner had tenderly brought up the next step. "You could always get waxed," he had proposed, "or look into permanent removal if it bothers you. I know someone who can do it professionally. You should do what makes you feel best, Mei."
Hesitation flickered in Mei's eyes. The thought of waxing, let alone permanent removal, sent a shiver of anxiety mixed with intrigue through her. The idea of such an exposed state beckoned both her fear and her growing desire for a refined silhouette that would sit immaculately with the g-string's minimal coverage.
The air felt heavy around her as she pictured herself in the hands of a stranger, wax and strips at the ready. At last, Mei spoke: "Maybe... Yes, I'll think about the waxing." Her voice had a quiver, signifying the leap from thought to action, one that carried her toward the stark, yet appealing sensation of complete smoothness.
In the days that followed, the topic of waxing hovered in the air, an uninvited guest between them. Mei couldn't escape the persistent nudge from her partner, each mention of the waxing suggestion delivered with a growing insistence.
"Think about how it will feel," he urged during their quiet dinners, his words painting a picture of silky smoothness that Mei could almost touch. "Seamless and soft—just perfect with your new underwear."
It was after a shower, the steam still clinging to the air and her skin that Mei, wrapped in a towel and facing her reflection, gave voice to her wavering decision. "I'll do it," she told him quietly, emerging from the mist-filled bathroom. "I'll try waxing."
