tagNonConsent/ReluctanceYellow Fever Ch. 02

Yellow Fever Ch. 02


TRIGGER WARNING: This story will definitely not be to everyone's tastes. The author does NOT in any way condone the actions or attitudes that occur in this story. If you are offended by stories featuring rape and/or raceplay, READ NO FURTHER.

If not, please enjoy.


I awoke in the dead of night, lying on my side with one hand stretched out in front of me and the other cradling my belly. My gravid, 26-weeks-along belly.

It wasn't as much fun as pregnancy perhaps ought to be. My swelling stomach made me waddle like an obese duck, not to mention I could no longer fit into many of my old clothes. My ankles were swollen, my breasts had outgrown my old bras, and my nipples were more sensitive than usual. On top of all that, I was also unbearably horny.

Slowly and carefully, I propped myself up on all fours, giving my aching joints a few moments to adjust. This far along, I wasn't nearly as sexy and graceful as I had been before the attack, but I wasn't going to let it get me down; and I certainly wasn't going to let it stop me doing what I needed to do.

Propping myself up with one arm, I spread my thighs a little to adjust my posture and stretched my free hand down between them. My sex was already engorged and wet from my unfulfilled urges, and I could feel the moist juices run down my fingers. My fingertips traced a circle around my clit and I gasped as the pleasure spiked in my belly.

I hated my rapist with a passion; but in my mind, I could reimagine him. And reimagine him I did: as a vigorous lover claiming my cunt with each thrust of that wonderful cock of his. I scrubbed out the memories of his yellow fever and replaced them with a fabricated mental recording of my reimagined rapist letting out masculine grunts as he owned my pussy, grunting and ramming me like an enraged bull.

My breathing became laboured and my fingers accelerated their circling motions, frigging myself with wanton abandon. I pictured that powerful rod of male flesh fucking me hard, pistoning in and out as his potent nutsack slapped against my pubic area with each inward thrust. Before long, I could resist no longer.

My building climax reached its crescendo, blossoming in my crotch as I buried my face in my pillow to muffle the orgasmic cry that escaped my mouth. I felt my pussy contract and convulse, just the way it had when he had cum inside me. As I caught my breath, my innards felt as though they were rearranging themselves of their own accord.

I smiled to myself. It was the baby moving in response.

"Glad you enjoyed that as much as I did."

What kind of mother talked dirty to her unborn child? I was a little too wiped out to care, but not so wiped out that I wanted to stay in bed. My fingers were soaked in cunt juices, so I wiped them clean on the sheets before carefully climbing out of bed and waddling carefully to the bathroom. According to my alarm clock it wasn't even six in the morning, but I needed to pee yet again, so I may as well shower and get ready for the day ahead.

I emptied my bladder and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water pour down my skin, running in little rivulets across my pregnant belly. Contemplating the life growing inside of me, I remembered how it was conceived. My hormonal rollercoaster crashed and I began to cry.

I remembered all too clearly how this baby had been conceived. I remembered the sheer helplessness of being physically overpowered, I remembered his raping cock asserting a power over me that he had no right to claim, and I remembered his vile gloating as he filled me with life, indulging his racist fantasies at my expense. It seemed sick and absurd, but the best way I had found to deal with it was to come up with my own fantasies about it. That way, in the safety of my own mind, I could reclaim some of the dignity and power that he had taken from me.

Perverted fantasies were also a good coping mechanism for dealing with the fact that my own body had aided and abetted his assault. He had given me one of the most intense orgasms of my life that night, and he probably knew it. Given how he had taunted me about giving me a half-white baby, even the existence of the baby itself was technically an act of power over me.

At length, my tears subsided and my mood returned to normal. I finished up my shower and dried myself down. There was plenty of time to wallow in confused guilt; right now, I needed to get my shit together.


Having dressed myself and eaten breakfast, I sat down in front of my computer and got to work. GitHub was a fabulous site for computer programmers; why go into a big office at Google or Apple five times a week when you could earn just as much money freelancing from home? No daily commute or associated travel expenses, no annoying co-workers or stuck-up supervisors. Plus, with a little one on the way, working from home had parenting advantages as well.

One solid hour of work later and I was done with my latest project; debugged and uploaded. Another top-notch piece of work by Annie Chang. My commission on that would get me through the next few months, so I took a break. My new adjustable chair was so much better for my poor back and cumbersome belly, so I simply sat there for a few silent moments.

What kind of depraved crap would he have been watching to get hooked on Asians?

That thought popped completely unbidden into my head. It shocked me that I would wonder about something like that, but I couldn't unthink it. Yes, his racist fantasies were sick, and I ought to be offended and horrified by them; but the harder I tried not to think about it, the more the curiosity kept eating away at me. Eventually, I couldn't resist the urge any longer: I opened up a separate tab and googled "Asian porn".

As expected, it was mostly White guys with horse-dicks pounding Asian girls. There were some black guys featured too, but the White-on-Asian videos were the ones that drew my attention. I was obviously projecting my own experience onto this whole porn session as I browsed through clip after clip of Asian girls getting rammed by muscle-bound White guys. The fact that they reduced people like me to squealing sex objects barely registered in my mind.

What did register was a bizarre feeling of arousal as I watched one cutesy Asian girl after another get fucked silly by exactly the kind of man who'd raped me. I knew hardly anything about my baby's father, but I did know he was a White guy (based on his own gloating), that he was strong and muscular (given how he'd overpowered me), and that he'd probably watched way too much of the crap I was now watching. Perhaps knowing so little about him made it easier to process. Plus, my whole experience meant I could relate to the scenes on my screen - if only to a certain extent - in fact, I felt strangely drawn to them. I also felt a little patch of wet warmth in my crotch.

My rapist truly had fucked me, body and mind.


My apartment block had a gym and a lounge on the top floor overlooking a rooftop swimming pool. Hardly anyone used either room, so I had a whole floor to myself in which to hang out. I certainly didn't feel like working out, I just wanted to relax and get some early morning sun.

Stepping out of my apartment, I set the alarm and locked the door. I'd gotten the security upgraded shortly after the attack, and it hadn't failed me since. I decided to take a break from maternity clothes and wear a summer dress which reached down to my thighs. My enlarged belly brought the hem of the dress up several inches, making it scandalously short. If I were comfortable taking the stairs, anyone walking behind me would definitely catch a glimpse of the strip of black cloth concealing my crotch.

I took the elevator up a dozen floors to the lounge, walking out onto the terrace with the pool. Being pregnant, I wasn't sure what the chlorine might do to my body, so instead of swimming I reclined on one of the deck chairs and took in the sunrise. I closed my eyes and, seeing as nobody else was around, pulled my dress all the way up to my bra, letting my pregnant belly soak in all that glorious vitamin d.

Immediately after the assault, I had naturally been afraid to dress provocatively, no more skirts or tight jeans. The rape had had a chilling effect on what I thought I could safely wear or do. Now though, it felt kind of liberating exposing myself out in the open. I was almost tempted to sunbathe in the buff. Almost. I wasn't an exhibitionist.

I heard a faint creaking sound coming from the lounge and spun my head round to look. The glare from the sun meant I could hardly see inside, but it didn't seem like anyone was in there. Nerves and paranoia perhaps. In any case, I needed to get back to my programming projects. I stood up carefully and pulled my dress back down, straightening myself out before heading back inside. I didn't notice a thing as I walked to the door and turned the handle, only to find that the door wouldn't budge.

A male hand appeared from nowhere and clamped down over my mouth, muffling the squeal of fright that escaped my lips. I felt another hand take a firm grip on my hair and pull my head back as I struggled in vain against my ambusher.

"Still such a feisty little gook, aren't you?" A familiar voice said behind me. "And with company on the way, too."

With my head still spinning from the fact that he'd found me again, my rapist guided me back towards the sofa like a shepherd leading a helpless lamb, and made me kneel forward on the cushions with my hands planted squarely on the arm rest. I was bent over on all fours with him kneeling behind me, but I didn't dare move or try to escape as I heard him take off a jacket and drop it on the floor next to us.

"Honestly, I'm a little surprised you didn't take Plan B." He continued as I heard him undress himself further, "Did it just slip your mind, or did you crave a White man's baby so badly you didn't want to use birth control?"

As much as I wanted to whirl round and elbow this conceited prick in the face, I held my tongue. His racist bragging was infuriating, but it wasn't just myself I had to protect.

I instantly regretted wearing a dress when he yanked it up and ran his hands over my ass, inspecting it like he owned it. Just like he had six months ago, he ran his fingers up and down my inner thighs, making me shiver in a mixture of fear and anticipation. Then his fingers slipped in between my pussy and the piece of cloth protecting it, his cold knuckles making direct contact with the lips of my entrance.

"Wet for a White cock, already." He gloated, gently sliding his knuckles up and down to stimulate me even more, "I bet you loved it so much the first time, you just can't wait for more. Isn't that right, you little chink slut?"

I gritted my teeth as he spewed his vile nonsense at me. I almost wanted him to hurry up and fuck me; that way he'd be done and be on his way a hell of a lot sooner. I got my wish.

He ripped my panties away, leaving my beaver bare and vulnerable. With one hand, he pushed my head down, keeping a firm grip on my hair to keep me in my place. With the other hand, he guided his cock to my entrance, dipping the tip inside a few times to tease and torment me.

"Hope the little one doesn't mind daddy knocking on the front door." And with that, he drove in, causing an audible gasp to escape my mouth.

"Bigger than any rice-dick you've ever had, I bet." He gloated.

That sounded like a silly tautology, until I realised he was talking about Asian men. Still, it wasn't exactly an idle boast. My rapist must have been hung like a stallion to fill me up all the way, he was certainly thick enough to stretch my walls pretty far. He thrust his hips at a steady pace, his cock pistoning into me with determined force. He held my hips steady as he fucked me, and I winced each time he bottomed out.

Compared to the first time, this really wasn't so bad. He wasn't choking me or slapping me about, he wasn't even being terribly rough with me. Maybe he was being mindful of my belly, or maybe he was taking for granted that he owned what he fucked. Either way, I was able to let my mind go blank as he continued to hump me like an alpha dog humping a beta bitch.

The incessant thrusting was stimulating the inner walls of my sex. My cunt worked hard to lubricate our non-consensual lovemaking, making a squelching noise as he thrust into me. The first flickers of an orgasm were building in my groin and spreading to my lower belly. For my rapist to bring me to climax was humiliating the first time, and had no doubt helped to get me pregnant; but now, it seemed like welcome compensation for enduring such an undignified ordeal.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my rapist's sports jacket discarded on the floor next to me. I also noticed a small packet of neatly cut papers sticking out of his jacket pocket. On a whim, I reached down and snatched up one of the papers, leaning down to one side in the process.

"Woah! Steady there." My rapist pulled me back on to the couch, evidently assuming I'd lost my balance, "don't want you falling off."

I scrunched up the little paper in my hand to conceal it, playing along with my rapist's assumption as his hands suddenly moved off my hips, slipped under my dress, and gripped my breasts.

"Those titties sure have grown," he noted with satisfaction, "a lot bigger than most of you slitty-eyed whores."

He groped and fondled them whilst also using them to steady himself as he thrust ever more aggressively into my already wet and weary womanhood.

"All full of milk for the hapa baby you'll be birthing in a few months." He continued his racist gloating. "How do you think your Asian parents would react if they knew that their overachieving, straight A's Asian daughter had been turned into a White god's breeding bitch? You certainly squeal like one."

Him mentioning my parents made me want to reach under my belly, grab his nuts, and make HIM squeal like a bitch. But, with all my being, I resisted the angry urge. Plus, the pleasure in my crotch and belly was building to levels that were difficult to suppress. I didn't really want it to stop.

Then his hands moved down from my breasts to my belly. I felt a bolt of fear shoot through me and I instinctively grabbed his wrists to pull them off.

"Relax, sweetheart," my rapist cooned, keeping his palms flat on the flanks of my rounded stomach and leaning in close, "I wouldn't hurt the baby, especially seeing as I put it there." He had a point, and I had no choice but to take his word for it.

With his hands on my stomach and his chest almost touching my back, my rapist's humping accelerated to a vicious frenzy as he entered the final stretch of the rape. His masculine rod punched against my cervix like a battering ram, an all-out assault against my already pregnant womb as my poor pussy worked overtime to lubricate and ease the passage of the invader. Meanwhile, one of my rapist's hands slipped down from my belly to my crotch, his fingers finding my clit and teasing it with practiced precision.

'What kind of rapist gives his victim a reach around?' I wondered. Given the circumstances and the sexual fugue that was clouding my mind, it seemed almost considerate of him. He was on the verge of cumming, and thanks to his merciless manipulation of my clit, so was I. Finally we came together.

My rapist snarled like a beast and forced his dick all the way inside me, holding me close as if to prevent my escape. I felt his cock twitch and pulse within me as it spouted streams of sticky seed into my depths. The exquisite sensation of being filled with intimate, liquid warmth sent me over the edge, and I too cried out in ecstasy. My cunt convulsed and pulsated rhythmically, massaging and stroking his cock with each contraction as it milked my rapist's manhood for its precious seed. He held me close in an almost loving embrace, making sure that he deposited every last drop deep inside me.

"God damn," he ventilated with sheer satisfaction, "you have no idea how good your gook pussy feels when it takes your White master's seed. Maybe when the little one's born, I'll come back and make sure it has a sibling to play with."

His triumphant gloating done, my rapist pulled out, leaving me there on all fours as he dressed himself and left without another word. Looking up, I saw a hint of blond hair peeking out from under the back of the ski mask he appeared to be wearing. He shut the door and left me there, alone and raped.

Slowly, I got up from the couch and stood myself up. He'd fucked me sore and I could feel the cum starting to trickle down the inside of my leg. I lifted up my dress and squatted down, observing the sticky seed dribbling from my freshly fucked snatch, not caring if it stained the carpet.

The first time he'd raped me had left me in a daze for days, too paranoid to leave the house and too absent-minded to go out and get Plan B. By the time I'd discovered I was pregnant, I couldn't bring myself to do anything except accept it and deal with the situation. This time was different.

This time my mind was focussed clearly on what I needed to do, because this time the situation was much more serious. A one-off rape that left me a single mother was ok if I never ran into him again, but now it was clear he still knew where I lived and was close enough to come back for another round whenever he wanted to. There was no way in hell I was going to raise my baby in that man's shadow. He had to be stopped. Fortunately, I had an idea of how to do that.

Still squatting down, I unscrunched the little piece of paper that I had surreptitiously snatched from his jacket pocket. It was a business card. Who the hell carried around a bunch of business cards in their sports jacket? I guess I was going to find out.


Ok, it can leave your head sometimes, just don't indulge your urges at other people's expense; though I'm sure most of you would never do that, anyway.

Comments welcome as always.

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