Breeding Brenda

Tom showed her off to everyone at the party. She felt awkwardly on display, unused to presenting herself in such a setting. Public appearances were hard for her as it is, especially the stares she'd receive when she'd get her huge tits out for breastfeeding. At least for the party, Tom had finally agreed to let her wear flowing harem pants instead of the usual camel-toe leggings, and he was happy for her to wear open-toed sandals for her sore feet, but with the compromise that she only wear a (prettily sequinned) boob tube on her top half. Brenda added jewellery in hopes it would distract, but the pendant vanished inside her enormous, plunging cleavage. She constantly had to jiggle-adjust the strap of material to keep her breasts from entirely falling out; a couple of times they did escape a little, the areolas and then even fat nipples slipping out - and of course they chose that time, previously wetly beading through the fabric, to squirt out milk from the jostling movement. Thankfully only a few people saw - her brother included, who bundled her away into an empty storage closet to suck on her tits as he fucked her to a crying orgasm.

She hoped nobody came into the closet until after the party was over. Tom had sprayed her milk over everything.

Her friends were at the party, and she remembered chatting to them (those that had accepted her relationship with Tom) while blushing heavily, trying not to show that she could feel her brother's cum leaking out of her bottom and down her thighs.

One of her friends was wearily complaining that she thought her boyfriend was once again cheating on her. 'Tom's very loyal,' Brenda blurted out. 'He never has eyes for anyone else.'

'Clearly not,' the friend said archly, gazing upon Brenda's obscenely stuck-out tits making wet patches through her strained boob tube. The woman's eyes travelled down to Brenda's naked belly. 'Clearly not . . . Which one is this? Fourth?'

'Fifth,' Brenda said, shifting on her sore feet. 'And sixth.'

Tom had knocked her up with twins.

*

Tom had a good job and worked hard at it. When Brenda was pregnant with their seventh child, he had been promoted enough to buy them a house: a huge, stately thing, filled with rooms and possessing a big garden. Brenda was grateful that there was enough money coming in. She couldn't have gotten a job herself, not just because she was exhausted taking care of six children and the home while heavily pregnant, but because she knew that she would have a hard time in the working world. Nobody would treat her seriously, not with a figure that even a cartoon wouldn't have. Every pregnancy had grown her thighs, ass, and especially her tits, none of which had been small or even average to start with.

And besides, what job would take on a young woman perpetually on maternity leave?

She now wore thong sandals and flip flops constantly, even in winter, when she wasn't barefooted on their property. Her feet were always sore. The sight of her waddling bare feet didn't do anything to dissuade her brother from grabbing her and mounting her. He would massage them as they rested on his shoulders, while he plunged into her pussy. Then he might reach down and squeeze her obscenely large nipples, spraying the milk upwards, only for it to fall in a rain back down on her enormous chest or onto her face, covering her in her own sloppy sticky titcream.

Often her brother would fuck her standing up while she was in the middle of making dinner, washing up or doing the laundry. When it finally proved impossible to keep doing her task, she'd back her ass up, gripping the counter, her head hanging down as her udders bounced and jiggled; then he would reach far under her, grabbing, twisting, forcing the nipples to point upwards so that the milk sprayed her own face. Or simply he would squeeze them as they hung, pulling the teats down in alternation, squirting them in a rhythmic milking motion. It made a white pool of the kitchen floor (not that he was about to clean it up in a hurry).

Their ninth child came in unison with their tenth - more twins. It was a good thing Tom had had the foresight to buy such a big house. Brenda had wondered why they'd need a place with so many rooms at the time. Of course, Tom couldn't possibly have known they'd have so many more kids. Nobody could have known.

Brenda had long given up on taking the pill. Tom was right; it didn't do anything for her at all. Instead, she focused her efforts on encouraging her brother to pull out, instead of cum inside her highly fertile pussy. She'd been at it for years but had yet to see success. He really tried, she knew that. He often promised to pull out, or at least try his best. Yet whenever they had sex when she wasn't currently pregnant (always a short window), he would exhale deeply in great satisfaction, and she would feel his powerful load splash against her cervix.

'I just get lost in how good it feels,' Tom admitted. 'How good you feel. I get lost in how much I love you . . .' He shrugged. 'And I just can't stop cumming inside you.'

'And knocking me up,' Brenda said with a weary smile.

Tom smiled back, reaching for her - hard and ready to go again, just like that. Something deep in his psyche triggered the response, but it was alien to Brenda, and Tom had no clarification, except to tell her how 'fucking sexy' she was.

'Even when I'm eight months pregnant?'

'Especially when you're pregnant,' Tom said. His face did a funny thing then, as though his words had tumbled out without his consent - but he pulled her in for a deep kiss, groping her massive, stuck-out tits as he did so, and then fondling the huge round booty that egregiously stuck out in the other direction - and Brenda was too distracted to question it.

It was a compliment, certainly, that Tom found her so alluring, so enticing, that he simply couldn't hold back from filling her with his seed. But it was a costly one.

When Brenda was pregnant (the majority of the time), thoughts of risk were thankfully out the window. Her mind was at greater ease then, not having to worry about her brother knocking her up for the umpteenth time. During her pregnancies, Tom took a lot of pleasure in buttfucking her. He'd been excited to discover that her lactating milk could be used as a crude form of lubrication, and he would often liberally coat his cock and her asshole with it. Titfucking her - another choice pregnancy activity of his - served well for lubing his cock (although sometimes he would get carried away and cum all over her prodigious titmeat, two types of cream mixing together in a sticky, gooey glaze), but her asshole was easily made a mess of too. Tom would spray the milk from her teats into his hands, then rub it into her butthole, pushing it inside with his fingers to make sure she was thoroughly ready for her big brother's dripping cock.

Strangely, though, most of these alternate activities immediately dropped off after each time Brenda had given birth. In the months, or sometimes even weeks, when Brenda wasn't pregnant with her half-brother's babies, Tom would pretty much only fuck her pussy. It was confusing, because how could a man who clearly loved anal sex with her suddenly all but give it up?

Sometimes - hoping that it would solve the persistent breeding problem - she would seduce him into fucking her ass. But although while she was pregnant he would happily cum inside her butthole, when she wasn't . . . he couldn't. She'd ask him what was wrong, try and squeeze his cock with her ass, murmur dirty things to him . . . beg him to cum in her slutty bottom. Anything.

But it didn't work. She'd let off, feeling bad; she didn't want to hurt his feelings, he was obviously trying so hard, but some hangup was stopping him from filling her ass with cum. At length, sighing in exasperation, he'd pull out of her butt and stick his cock in her mouth. She'd suck him off (or rather, try to) eagerly, thinking, Yes, yes, let me swallow it! and staring up at her brother with her best cum-in-my-mouth eyes.

She'd clean up his cock, drooling all over it from head to balls, putting what she felt was her best work in, but to absolutely no success . . . and then, after an age, he'd pull back and thrust his cock into her unprotected pussy - and cum immediately. Immediately. As though it was everything his body and mind had needed in that one instant.

She didn't know what more could be done. The pill didn't work (she didn't see how something that tasted like sugar would work); condoms didn't work because Tom couldn't stay hard wearing them; pulling out didn't work despite his best efforts - her clutching ever-fertile pussy just made him lose track of reality, it seemed; sordid anal and sloppy blowjobs and bed-shaking titfucks didn't work . . . In fact, it seemed the only way her brother could cum outside her pussy is if she was already pregnant.

Only twice did Brenda discuss other contraceptive options with Tom, first the coil, then getting her tubes tied. Tom responded to the coil in no uncertain terms that he'd never be able to get hard in her knowing that was in her, and also what made her think it would work when the pill didn't, it was all just a con, and so on. As for getting her tubes tied, she'd tried to have this conversation with him after their thirteenth child. Even with the many rooms in the house, they were already having to start doubling up. Thankfully they were mostly good kids and didn't mind sharing. Brenda knew she could've had a lot worse - friends spoke terribly of their own children, little hellions. But then Brenda had far more offspring than anyone else she knew - that was exhaustion manifest. And when Tom came home from work, he'd be ready for sex. Every time. Though, she supposed, there was something lovely about the fact that after all the kids she'd pumped out, the passing years (she hadn't been a teenager in a long time - the ancient age of thirty would be the next milestone), and the obscenity of her hyper-voluptuous body - despite all this, Tom still couldn't get enough of her, still found her as desirable as when he'd first made love to her. No, if anything, even more desirable. Brenda's friends and neighbours struggled to disguise their jealousy, concentrating not on the many children she had to look after, but Tom's loyalty and ceaseless attraction. Their own boyfriends and husbands had started to visibly lose interest after they'd had children.

'Wait until you're my age,' sighed one of Brenda's older friends, a fifty-year-old mother of four. 'If he still wants to have at you every day . . . well, he's a keeper and no mistake, and you can count yourself very lucky. Although, I admit I've never met a woman with proportions like yours, if you don't mind me saying . . . at least none so eager to show them off.'

Brenda had come up to Tom later, asked him, 'When I'm fifty, will you still be as attracted to me?'

Tom had looked off into the middle distance, frowning, as though calculating something in his head. Then he gazed back at her, smiling with such warmth that Brenda blushed. He embraced her, hands slipping down into her tight leggings to cup and jiggle her fat bumcheeks. 'Of course, baby. You'll always be my busty little sister to me.' His gaze fell to her massive post-pregnancy tits. 'Yes . . .' he murmured, a light in his eyes. 'Yes. Of course.'

And he was hard again - and ready to fuck, ready to cum. Where? Inside her pussy, where else?

The conversation about her tubes tying, though, that had changed things. He'd been visibly affronted, the devastation writ clear on his older but, if anything, even more warmly handsome face. 'You'd have surgery?' he asked, his shoulders slumped. 'Brenda, honey, think what could go wrong!'

She had, but more than that, she didn't want to see that expression on her lover's face ever again - like his whole world was ending. She didn't understand it - after all, it was her body, not his - but somehow the thought of it crushed him. Maybe it was just the idea of her going to such drastic lengths.

After that conversation, Brenda had dropped all ideas of putting barriers up between her and her brother's love and passion. He wanted it natural, that was clear. He adored her unsubtle body; quite why, given the size of parts of her, she had no idea, but he possessed a craving for it that at times was almost intimidatingly intense. Very little got in the way of stopping him from fucking her when he was in the mood (which was often). And when she wasn't already pregnant, nothing seemed to get in the way of him fucking her pussy and filling it with buckets of hot cum.

She may have given up on true birth control options, but Brenda wasn't quite ready to give up suggesting Tom pull out, or that he fuck another part of her whenever he was about to orgasm.

She needed a break.

*

I'll pull out for sure, he'd said. He'd promised.

She believed him. This time would be different. She loved all her children, but fourteen was enough. Especially when she hadn't really meant for the first to happen - or any of them. Not that she'd tell them that; she cherished each and every one, each a bundle of joy, and she rarely doubted that she was a good mother to them. Just a very tired one.

She'd asked for a year without proper sex. Her body needed time to recover. She'd asked in the past, of course, but Tom had never lasted long at all. Yet this time, after her pleas, he had risen to the occasion brilliantly. He'd managed six entire months without cumming inside her pussy. For a while he'd struggled to cum at all - but, at last, he'd trained himself wonderfully to drench her huge boobs, especially when she wore the incredibly lascivious clothes he loved most, pushing her breasts together for him in an irresistible manner and squirting his cock with her milk as he jacked off. Brenda carried around wet wipes at all times to mop up the cum from her deep, deep valley of cleavage. More than a few times, when she and Tom were both in an odd yet cosy mood, she had massaged his cock with her feet while they watched a movie on the sofa. This would start out innocently enough - her feet in his lap, shifting for comfort - and end with her feet absolutely covered in cum, dripping gloopily to the cushions.

Now . . . now Tom had admittedly broken. But six months was forever, and Brenda was enormously proud of her brother. She hadn't really believed by this point he'd had it in him, yet he had exercised vast untapped willpower to avoid her pussy, truly recognising her need to not be pregnant for a while, what with all the stress it put on her body.

The older kids were all at summer camp, another idea of Tom's she was immensely grateful for, while the young ones were on an extended stay with their grandmamas. A few years back Tom had hired two (very well paid) nannies to help with childcare, and a cleaner and gardener as well, taking a great deal off Brenda's back. She had quite enough strain in that department carrying around her extremely heavy tits. Although the private physiotherapist Tom had also invested in had done wonders.

Things were easier than they had been in a long time. She had energy again, a sense of physical and mental freshness that she hadn't known since . . . well, before she'd given birth to her and Tom's first child. Tom was proving with every year to be a good dad, albeit one less present than herself. He never lost his temper, and enjoyed playing games with the children when he had the time (that is, when he wasn't at work, asleep, or fucking his sister's huge tits in any room with a lock on the door - usually the master bedroom, one of the bathrooms, or the no-kids-allowed-without-permission summerhouse).

Though Brenda still walked around the house barefoot out of habit and comfort, her feet hadn't been sore in months. She'd even painted her toenails. It was a lovely house and garden, truly; the cleaner and gardener kept them in better condition than she'd been able to once the army of progeny had become close to unmanageable. And seeing as the kids tended to congregate together anyway, Brenda was surprised to find herself with time alone - or with Tom.

She had a good life, she knew. She couldn't keep the smile off her face.

And then, half an hour ago, she had sauntered into the lounge - and Tom had looked up at her from the sofa, taking in the sight of her massive tits hardly contained by the struggling scrap of milk-wet material (prodigious breastmeat pouring out beneath, out the sides, and an enormous quantity of plunging, bursting cleavage above the fabric, including visible areolas, and the entire bust sticking so fucking far out from her body); then taking in her huge jiggling buttcheeks, the ridiculous counter-balance to her breasts so she didn't fall over, every crease and crack evident from the tightly stretched leggings, full of rips and tears where her impossible curves had won out against the restrictive clothing that, when she turned back around, hugged her crotch with at least as much enthusiasm . . . Tom had stared at all of this, and had broken. Stood up, grabbed her with his strong arms, and out her brother's rock-hard cock came, already drooling precum - and Brenda knew it was getting shoved up her pussy.

She couldn't blame him. He'd done so well. And perhaps today's outfit was a little risqué. Tom hadn't even pressed this one on her; she was just long used to this being the kind of outfit she wore. First bought for her, then expected to wear, and then it was second nature. Actually, this particular top she had bought, unthinkingly, herself.

Tom had moved her from the lounge to the bedroom, staying inside her the whole time, fucking her with every shuffling step. He wouldn't withdraw even as he ushered her up the stairs, forcing her to collapse to a crawl, tits hanging, leaking nipples rubbing against the wood, drooling twin milktrails . . . Even as she awkwardly ascended step by step, her brother stayed inside her, pumping away as he moved with her, completely unable to leave her pussy alone for even a second.

Eventually they had toppled onto the bed, where he had fucked her with redoubled intensity, drowning in her sexual glory, like a man long-dying of thirst in the desert suddenly finding himself in possession of a reservoir.

The sun shone bright gold through the windows. Tom manipulated Brenda's teats with his fingers, spraying out milk as his fat cock thrust itself in short, deep strokes, with less of a rhythm made for fucking, more a kind of frenzied masturbation. She felt - not for the first time - that the manner how he pounded her holes sometimes was like using a fleshlight, jacking off with her provocatively curvaceous body. Specifically, her hotly soaking, hyper-fertile pussy.

She could hear her brother's breathing take on a familiar and often concerning form: heavy, husky and warm in her ear as he groped and mauled her huge milk-wet tits.

He was going to cum. But he'd pull out this time. He had changed. The six months of relative abstinence (well, not abstinence from a relative) had changed him. He was a man of his word now, empathetic, careful. Perhaps even a man who had finally come to recognise that fourteen children might be enough to be getting on with.

His kisses suckled at her neck, shoulders. Becoming harder, making her skin flush as the blood was drawn near the surface. Biting her flesh, groaning through his teeth.

'Tom—' Brenda half whispered, half moaned. A warning, a caution, melting into an expression of love, and back again, all in a word.

'I'm going to knock you up. My little sister. I'm going to impregnate you.'