Rosie
I walked up to the big church with trepidation, trying to keep the wiggle of my recently-sodomized sore ass from showing in my walk. What Rachel had done to me made that taboo really pleasurable for me but didn't make my tender ass any more resilient.
The congregants milling around the entrance sized me up, and one old lady sniffed at the look of me, as if she could sense my thoughts.
I bit my lip, and walked past them to find Janet inside. I felt like the sluttiest of sluts, and wondered if I might burst into flame when I crossed the threshold of the church. Not that I believed in any of this junk, but I still felt conspicuously out of place in a house of worship.
Jake's mom Janet had invited me to Sunday session with her at her lifelong church. Even Jake seemed nervous about how this would go, so my anxiety was at a maximum.
Before I'd left, he'd reiterated what he'd already told me before the dinner we'd shared with her a few days ago. "It's really important my mom likes you. She's pretty much always right, you should listen to what she has to say." I knew he was a 'Momma's boy' since his dad had died when he was young, but this seemed a little extra. In contrast, I'd been raised by a single dad, so dealing with an overbearing Mom would be new to me.
The dinner we'd had on Friday with her had gone reasonably well - I'd worn a long-sleeve turtleneck to hide the majority of my tattoos and I'd played up my fictional past as a previous member of the Fellowship of Christian Athlete's in high school. Or was it even fictional? What was real and manufactured by Rachel was starting to blur, but I would continue this pious ruse as long as necessary to smooth this over.
She'd had a lot of questions for me, and seemed to really disapprove of our current arrangement of living together before marriage.
Whelp, we're never getting married so that practically rules out her approval. I thought. It made me feel really uneasy.
Janet was scandalized further I wasn't attending church regularly, with my claims of being a good Christian girl. "Jake not going anymore is bad enough " She tsked and told me in no uncertain terms that I should come to her church that Sunday so we could "catch up". I agreed, reluctantly.
The truth was, I was actually planning my exit from this relationship, but first I needed to save enough tips to afford a first-month's rent somewhere else without Jake noticing and talking me out of it. I sensed that he probably could, if he knew.
I needed to find a new life for myself until I could finally successfully beg Rachel to change me back - although the sex with Jake was amazing, I couldn't imagine staying with him that long.
I was NOT in love with him.
So here I was, ready to fake it for Jake's mom and play out the string until I could leave.
I found my boyfriend's mom in the pews, and joined her nervously.
+++++++++
The sermon had been more impressive in some ways than I had expected. The decor and polished wood of the decor had added a gravitas to everything the preacher had said, and he had been very charismatic. The whole situation seemed unexpectedly . . . cozy . . . to my altered mind, even if the topic had been hard to swallow.
"The notion of submission is subversive in today's culture, but the power of a supportive and submissive wife knows no equal. . ." the pastor said, continuing his recitation on the roles of women in society.
He'd extolled the gifts that the new federal administration were giving us, leading America back to its "family-centric Christian roots". In particular, it was finally protecting women from the poison's of modern society and rebuilding families and communities brick by brick.
As someone currently struggling with my lack of birth control options, as evidenced by my sore butt on the hard wooden pew, I didn't feel very 'protected'. But some of the points about the decline of communities in the modern age had some truth to them, perhaps.
At the end, some of the church volunteers handed out pamphlets to the young women of the congregation, and I took one to be polite.
I read through it as the choir gathered for the hymns, rolling my eyes at some of the things it said about the evils of contraception and the wonder of natural family planning and how it fit with religious non-sense. Maybe there was some utility in it, though? Any port in a storm, I thought as I put in my purse to research later.
Janet noticed and looked at me with an arched eye brow. I smiled at her awkwardly and settled in to listen to the soothing hymns of the choir, which was actually pretty impressive.
++++++
"My Jake seems really taken with you," Janet said, as she organized the materials for the upcoming children's church camp she was running next week. Apparently church for Janet on Sundays was an all day affair, considering her position of head volunteer. It was nearing afternoon and the second service was going strong now, audible through speakers in walls.
I'd started helping her, just to have something to do. She seemed to be very involved with pretty much all activities of this enormous church. "Tell me - why did you get all those tattoos? It's a lot for someone so young, isn't it?"
I sucked in a breath, and looked down at the tattoos on my hands, the same ones I was pretty sure had kept me from getting a decent job. I couldn't hide them with long sleeves, and I'd clocked that she'd noticed them right away and disapproved. I'd come up with a story for this ahead of time.
"My dad was really controlling" I started. "He's a pastor, you see, and he'd parade me in front of his congregation and use me as an example to talk about stuff I didn't agree with. Purity pledges and things like that."
Janet frowned, and I could see that I was skirting into murky topics.
"I'm still Christian!" I said, lying, but not wanting to lose her. "But I didn't want to be his showpiece. He was the hateful kind of pastor." That seemed to resonate with her a little- her eyes softened and she nodded. "The more tattoos I got, the less he made me a part of his agenda."
"I see. I'm sorry that happened to you." She said, and I could tell she meant it. "You shouldn't let your father get in the way of your faith, however. You and Jake living together. . . in sin. . ." She shook her head..
"I know. . . I never intended it to happen like this, but I was just his subletter first. . . but he's so sweet and, you know, it just happened." I said, using my most innocent voice for sympathy. I had to get her to like me.
Janet softened further. "I get it, Rosie. I know how it must have happened." She looked away, then looked back with a determined look. "I understand you. However, you aren't right for my Jake, and he isn't right for you. Not for the long term."
The words skewered me, much more hurtful than I could have imagined. My eyes burned as tears started to form and I tried not to let her see. Why did I care if she didn't approve of me? I wanted out anyways, didn't I?
"But. . ." I started, voice cracking slightly. "We really like each other. . . isn't that what matters?" I croaked, tears now starting to stream.
"No Rosie, it's not all that matters. I think you know that. You've let my boy walk all over you and led him even further away from what is right. A woman must keep her man on the virtuous path, and he must be clear-eyed to lead his family the right way. A girl like you isn't up to that task."
I sobbed but didn't argue, my mascara starting to run. She surprised me with a comforting hug.
Janet didn't hate me, she just thought I was unworthy.
She stepped back. "There is a lovely little contemplation garden outside, just follow the path around the corner. I think you should spend some time praying to figure out what you really want. I'll stay and drive you home if you need it."
I nodded, needing a moment to collect myself anyways.
+++++
The garden was really pretty, full of flowers of all shapes and sizes, framing a large benevolent-looking statue of you-know-who. Well, she'd told me to pray. If she found me taking her advice then maybe it could buy me some points with her.
I knelt in the grass in front of the statue in this secluded space, pretending to pray but being slightly taken with the peacefulness of it, quiet except for a chirping bird nearby.
With everyone in the building at the ongoing second service, it was secluded her.
The beatific idol looked down on me as I knelt, which made my mind turn to all the other kneeling I'd been doing lately, with my boyfriend. "Living in sin" as Janet had said.
I turned my thoughts away from that.
Well, if you're there, God, can you turn me back into a man? I thought at the idol, challengingly. I looked up at the statue martyr above me, scoffing.
I looked down, almost hoping, but nothing had changed in my body. Of course. This was all bullshit.
If you really were real, I'd have some questions about a lot of the stuff that doesn't make sense in the world. But that's not how praying works, is it? I think about how great you're supposed to be, and you give blessings, right?
Well, if I have to be a woman could you at least make it so people don't think I'm a tramp? Get rid of my tattoos? Make Janet, and all those judgmental women like her, approve of me?
I challenged the statue again, angry, not noticing that the humid air seemed suddenly charged, as if waiting for me to finish.
I'll even come to all these sermons, and listen to your pastor tell me how to my life. I could use the help, obviously. I said mockingly in my mind, knowing nothing would happen. Just give me a change!
The potential in the air suddenly released, a cool wind blowing the muggy air away from me and leaving behind a buzzing feeling throughout my body. I gasped, not understanding. Could it be. . .? I looked up at the statue, then down at my body.
The tattoos were fading rapidly from my hands. I gasped again, feelings of uncertainty and fear sweeping through me. I pulled up my dress sleeve, and saw they were all disappearing.
I fell backwards on to my cushioned butt into the grass in shock. That seemed to have not changed, at least.
My hair got in my face, and I noticed the hue changing slightly to something a bit more natural looking but still ginger. My long fake nails had disappeared, replaced with a modest clear coat on natural feminine nails.
I looked up to the crucifix again, this time in burgeoning awe. Was it all real? Was it really. . . the big guy. . . granting my request? I suddenly felt concerned about my mockery.
I could feel the energies still swirling around me, though my physical changes had seemed to surface level other than the now untouched creamy paleness of my skin, free of any tattoos.
What else had I asked for, again?
I felt a buzz in my brain, as memories of the last several months shifted around. I tried to keep track of what was changing, but it was going too fast.
Work! Was I still a um -. . . wait, where had I worked?
Memories surfaced of working as an administrative assistant at the real estate office I'd applied to, and been rejected from in the previous reality. In this reality they'd hired me, as I'd fit into their culture much better. I remembered I'm currently studying for real estate agent license.
Jake! Was he still my boyfriend?
He was, but it all felt different. I didn't live with him, of course.
A girl like me would have never agreed to live with a male roommate, and certainly wouldn't live with her boyfriend before marriage. No matter how hot he was.
Marriage. . . that niggled in my brain. I'd never wanted to be married. . . had I?
But that was silly, every good Christian girl wanted to get married.
Memories of the agony of staying chaste the last several months with my boyfriend Jake flooded my mind, replacing sordid memories from the other reality. Here, I'd mostly not let him go further than steamy make out sessions in stolen moments. I suddenly remembered giving my very first blowjob, only last week, and feeling a little guilty about it despite it being so fun. He'd also touched me, down there, in my achingly wet private place.
He'd assured me it was ok, since in a few days we'd be able to do those things as much as we wanted. I couldn't wait.
Dipping our toes in already was sinful, but God would forgive us the slight indiscretions. We hadn't gone all the way, and were so close to the end, after all.
Wait - the end?
The energies swirled, and I felt the fabric of my dress change into something more gossamer and less practical, the original black color draining out.
It was turning WHITE. Intricate stitching appeared on the strange fabric, the adornments giving it a classy and slightly vintage look.
Traditional.
Modest.
Elegant.
It was beautiful, but certainly not a dress a girl wore every day. Probably just once.
I felt my hair bounce itself into a new form, the lustrous red strands now structured in waves that could only have came from a same-day salon visit. The kind of thing you do only on the biggest days in your life. You'd also usually get your makeup done at such a visit.
My lips tingled as red lipstick coated them, along with a full face of "big day" professional makeup. Understated and classy, but highlighting my beauty.
I knew I looked amazing. A girl any man would wait for.
The energy was starting to dissipate now, and my brain was starting to catch up.
What was going on? I looked at the statue of the martyr in front of me, my feelings towards it now starkly different than what they'd been before.
I felt humbled. Respectful. My faux piety had been replaced with the seeds of actual belief. How could it not, after what had just happened? It was actual proof of the divine.
How could someone see actual proof it was all real, and then not follow the teachings?
Suddenly everything the preacher had said in the sermon earlier came back to me. The importance of faith-based families, with the man as the leader and the wife supporting him. None of this had resonated with me before, but now it felt obvious.
I wandered out of the little grove onto the path back to the church, dazed, but my feet knew where to go.
"Rosie!" Janet said, seeing me around the bend in the path. "It's time!" She hadn't begrudged me the moments to pray one more time before this all started.
"It's not like they can start without you but people will start to be concerned soon," She joked, taking my hand. Janet really liked this version of me, I realized, and had basically served as my surrogate mom in all this since I didn't have one.
Everyone else was inside the church already, and Janet led me through a side door into a small staging room. It looked like it was a coffee room for church staff, normally. My eye caught on a picture on the big cork board near the kitchenette.
The church suddenly seemed much more familiar in my mind. I'd been volunteering here all year, after all, since Janet invited me that first time.
I could hear the orchestra in the main chamber starting up, playing an instantly recognizable Chorus by Wagner.
This all happening so fast! I moaned internally, trying to work through the fog in my brain and the feeling of inevitability. I should stop this! I can't be a - a-
But then I noticed him. My father. My actual father, waiting for me by the door. I hadn't seen or talked to him since I became Rosie, Rob's cousin. But that wasn't right, was it?
I was Rob's little sister, not his cousin, even though Rob was away somewhere these days. Richard was my dad, too. And now he was going to walk with me. He was smiling, happy tears in his eyes. He held his hand out to his little girl, now a woman, and ready to take the next step in her life despite her young but mature age of 19.
I remembered seeing Jake for the first time, when he and Rob visited our home while they were both on break from college, and instantly developing a life-long crush on the boy despite our age difference. I'd won him eventually, after I'd come of age of course. No in this community had thought our 12-year age gap worth commenting on, they'd just been happy I'd made Jake start coming to church again.
My father took my arm, and led me through the door into the main entry way. The guests all turned to see us, and murmured at how beautiful I looked, and the sweetness of how overjoyed my father clearly was to escort me.
Then he led me to the aisle, the Bridal Chorus resounding in the hall, and I saw the man at the end of the path.
Jake. My fiancee. Soon to be husband. He looked amazing in his tuxedo.
I looked back behind me, at the doors of the church. I could run. This was my last chance, I sensed.
But hadn't I just wished for this? What else could I want?
I smiled, and walked down the aisle.
Author's note: Here are some alternate bride Rosie pics, though I liked the one I used best.
+++++++++++
Rachel
Rachel watched from the pews as the beautiful redhead looked up with a stunned expression at her soon-to-be husband. Rosie really did look incredible, if slightly confused at how she had found herself at the altar today.
The witch laughed internally at where Rob's misplaced loyalty to Jake had gotten him. The misogynist's original requests for Rosie during that fateful awful date had shown what he thought of women, but now Rosie was truly doubling down on him.
Jake's ideal girl had been a 19-year old innocent virgin, but one that had the tattoos of a floozy, with a sex bomb body. A conservative girl, but also one who listens to his lead when he himself no longer followed his Christian roots. He wanted this "conservative" girl to fuck him whenever he wanted outside of marriage. It was a fantasy with boorish contradictions, not a real girl.
But even once he'd gotten this perfect caricature, his Rosie, he still hadn't been sure he should marry her?
Sometimes, a mother knows better what their son needs in a partner better than he does and Rosie wishing to be someone Janet would approve of had been fitting. It had smoothed away all the silly contradictions and left a perfect girl for him.
Rachel hadn't expected Rosie to use her one change on something like this; she'd thought the red head would use it to escape, become a more self-reliant and employable version of herself.
A thought struck her. Rosie HAD known she could wish for any change, as long as she was still Rosie, right? Had she heard Rachel when she'd told her about it at the bar? She must have.
Oh well . . . what's done is done, either way. Rachel thought. She'd still managed to make the wish, did it matter if Rosie knew the real origin of this last change?
It's not like she was willing to expend any more arcane force on Rosie at this point. Especially since the covenant Rosie was about to make, even if not actually divine, would make any further attempts to change her cost prohibitive. Magic cared about that pacts and covenants and that sort of thing.
Any remaining malleability in who Rosie was would disappear once she confirmed herself as Jake's wife.
"Do you take this man to be your husband, in holy matrimony?" The pastor asked.
Rachel smiled at the turmoil she could see in Rosie's face. Served her right.
+++++
Rosie
". . . I do." I said, shaking with nerves. Had I really just done this? MARRIED Jake?
"You may now kiss the bride." Said the priest, and I blinked.
The bride was me, I'd just gotten MARRIED, to a man. Who was now about to kiss me, to make it official.
My HUSBAND beamed down at me, having already said 'I do', and then he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.
The kiss was electric, my very body practically seeming to ** yearn** to complete this holy ritual. I pressed myself into my new husband and his arms enfolded me in my beautiful dress.
As my lips pressed against Jake's, I could feel something in my core click into place. Something inexorably final. Immutable.
The congregation cheered at the man and his beautiful young wife.
I was Jake's wife. How had this happened?
+++++++
Jake
Jake stroked his bride's bare pussy for the first time, in awe of how wet she was for him. She was so hot his cock had been like iron for hours now; he'd been dying to fuck her for months. Now he finally would.
This perfect, submissive girl had just given her self to him in marriage, and now it was finally time for her to give herself to him in ways of a husband and wife.
Jake had avoided marriage for years, disappointing his mother by chasing girls she'd never approve of. But none of them were right, until he met Rosie.
He'd always had this girl in his dreams - a redhead with all the right curves and a catnip mix of sluttiness and innocence. He'd fucked her in his dreams almost every night, and she was insatiable and moldable to his whims.
Rosie was so similar to this girl in his dreams, in many ways, but she was a real person. So close to perfection she might as well be that dream girl. Now that they were married, he could work on making her the traditional wife version of that, but in holy matrimony so no one could criticize.
It was no wonder that Rosie was sopping wet, considering how pent up they'd been these past few months. If it had been just up to him, they'd probably have went ahead and had sex months ago, but Rosie was a good Christian girl and she'd stayed firm even if Jake could tell she wanted it just as badly as him. He'd never have abstained for any other girl than her.
"God, Jake please!" Rosie moaned beneath him. "You're - hngg - torturing me! I've been waiting so long! Make love to me!"
Jake smiled and relented, reveling in this singular moment. He had a vague sense of deja vu, but brushed it away.
Rosie moaned when he rubbed himself against her to gather lubrication, and then squealed at the first penetration. He took it slow for her first time, and grunted in satisfaction when he felt her hymen tug and give way.
His virgin wife whimpered, but didn't ask him to slow or stop.
The turn on of taking Rosie's virginity, while she wore her white dress and stockings, made him start to lose control. He wasn't going to last, almost it was his first time again too.
Jake came into his wife's pussy, two full spasms, before pulling out and spilling the rest around her pussy. He wasn't worried about birth control or anything, he just wanted to see his mark on her. It was primal.
Rosie gasped at his finish, looking down at the mess he'd made of her, then looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. The devoted eyes of a freshly deflowered wife.
She was in awe of the connection of their first time, even if she hadn't gotten close to an orgasm. Jake knew she didn't really know any better, but he was going to enjoy teaching her. He tucked her previously-virginal white panties back over her pussy, now stained with a spot of blood from her maidenhead and a much larger measure of his cum. Jake had claimed his wife.
++++++++++
About one month after getting married
Rosie
I sat alone in the bathroom, trying to see if it was safe to fuck my husband tonight. Or if I'd have to do some of those other shameful things he had intoduced me to, that I was surprised I really liked a lot. I'd never admit it to Jake, however. He was smug as it is.
I awkwardly collected a sample of my discharge with one hand while holding my phone in the other, some "natural family planning" pamphlets on the counter next to my purse. I hadn't bothered in the first month, caught up in the glamour and excitement of it all and buttressed by assurances from various women in the church that none of them had gotten pregnant right away. It was really unlikely to happen so fast, after all.
I'd been shockingly thrilled at being a wife all month, riding high on the honeymoon phase and soaking in the praise and love the community showered on me.
But now it was time to get serious. I had to take control of this part of being a woman, even though I still remembered I'd been Rob once and knew that's still who I was deep down. I had to make sure I became a mother only if I wanted to, sometime much much later than now, if ever. And it wouldn't be just because my big dumb handsome husband, or my wonderful mother-in-law, wanted me to.
"The discharge should be sticky or tacky for several days after your period, and this marks the infertile time between menses and ovulation . . ." I read in the guide.
Sticky or tacky. . .
My discharge was not sticky or tacky. Basically the opposite. It was clear, liquidy and . . . voluminous.
That was weird. My period had only ended three days ago, but it had been kind of strange too. . . different and more kind of "spotty" than the usual heavy flow. Basically just a couple drops of blood, which had been kind if nice at the time.
I'd thought it was just something related to losing my virginity; it's not like anyone had educated me on this, I was learning on the fly.
The women on the church-approved family planning forum I'd joined a few days ago would probably know, though I'd been kind of avoiding it since most of them were moms trying to get pregnant, not avoid pregnancy, and their posts made me feel weird. I didn't want to get infected with their baby fever.
I thought about what to write. Hmmm. "Spotty blood three days ago, no big flow, now cervical mucous looks like this!" I posted the pic to the post in the forum, slightly embarrassed but knowing it's nothing but Christian wives on the site.
I waited pensively, knowing Jake wouldn't be home for a couple hours yet amd content that I'd already gotten most of the cleaning done and dinner was in the crockpot.
The phone dinged, finally, and I opened the post again.
One of the regular posters I'd noticed before had commented, a woman with three kids now trying for her fourth, for some insane reason. She'd have an answer.
The response was simple.
"Well. . . you're probably due for some congratulations, Momma! But you'd better take a pregnancy test to be sure! Love and prayers to you and your husband!"
I gasped, suddenly jerked into alertness. No way. I texted Jake to make a stop at the store on his way home.
When Jake got home and saw the result, he beamed and gave me a huge hug and kiss.
I held it together until he went to watch something while I made dinner.
I cried confused tears as I prepped our plates, a welter of emotions boiling. I was happy that Jake was so happy, but I- I -
I decided to pray, which led me to the decision to call my most trusted advisor.
Janet was ecstatic at the news and helped me talk out my feelings. She was a godsend, as always.
So what if Jake knocked me up in the first month, and the honeymoon period was already over?
It was a new chapter and I'd just have to adjust to my role, since it was clearly part of God's plan for me.
It was a blessing, definitely. For sure.
++++++
Five Months Pregnant
"Gosh, I'm such a cow!" I moaned, unthinkingly avoiding using the lord's name in vain. I looked sheepishly over my shoulder at Jake, red hair fanning around me.
"You're gorgeous," he replied.
"No, I'm a cow." I said petulantly. "Moo." I knew I was being a bit of a brat, but I had never seen myself getting pregnant and even five months later it still felt obscene.
Having this burden so soon after my dream wedding. . . it was wearing on me. The women at my church book club cooed at me, telling me I was "radiant" and "glowing" and had been unwaveringly supportive. It helped, but. . .
"If you think you are so ugly right now, why is your husband's dick so hard from looking at you?" he asked.
I blushed, and looked down, seeing the evidence of his claim. It was flattering, and made me feel warm inside, but why was he always so crass? And why did I like it, even though I could never imagine using such language myself? At least he went to church with me every Sunday now. Janet would love me just for that, if nothing else, but she was also over the moon that her first grandkid was on the way already. She checked in every day.
Jake's older brother was still childless 6 years after getting married; I was definitely the favorite daughter in law, which felt good.
But Jake. . . he was a little too self-satisfied at knocking me up.
"Maybe he has a gross pregnancy fetish or something," I replied reproachfully, but also slightly playfully.
"Maybe he does," Jake replied with a wink, and I gasped before throwing a pillow at him. My newly expanded boobs jiggled harshly and I winced before glaring.
"You'd better not have one!" I told him firmly. "You got lucky this time, before I was ready to track everything, but from here on out it's up to me."
He just smiled. "Sure thing, my love." He reached out and stroked my belly affectionately, and I closed my eyes at the calming touch. "You know, you definitely can't get more pregnant again right now. . ." He nodded to his 'hoohoo', tenting his pants.
I felt a flush, and knew he was right. We probably should take advantage. . .
Something about sex during pregnancy made me even more emotional and clingy, and I found it ridiculously more easy to cum than that first honey moon month before I was kncoked up.
Jake let me ride on top, which had become increasingly the norm as he was happier for some reason to see my breasts instead of my bum during sex as the pregnancy had progressed.
I kissed my husband, the feel of my swelling belly on him becoming increasingly comfortable everytime we did this.
+++++++
Six months Pregnant
"God, I can't believe how hot your pregnant boobs are! Are they like twice the size now?" Jake asked.
I tried not to, but I still beamed at the words from my husband. I'd been feeling deeply unsexy and uncomfortable lately and had needed to get new pregnancy bras like three times. My big new pregnancy breasts were annoying in every day life, especially at the real estate office getting ogled by clients, but at least my husband enjoyed them.
It was embarrassing how much a little praise about my body validated me. My body had always been curvy (at least as a woman) but my early pregnancy seemed to be layering curves on top of curves.
My belly button ring, the single slightly naughty accessory I'd gotten on Jake's request right before finding out I'd gotten knocked up, would probably not be here much longer. It had been difficult to put back in this time after cleaning around it.
But still, he deserved a reward for being so sweet.
"You've just earned yourself a blowjob, mister!" I said, then excitedly got on my knees and got to work despite my new pregnant weight making this a bit more uncomfortable than it had been during that blessed non-pregnant month right after our wedding (and that one sexy secret time a week before it).
+++++++
"What do you think about . . . Ashton?" I asked nervously, looking at him from behind my hands. I'd been doing name research, and this was one I'd liked.
"Ashton?" Jake replied. "As a first name? He's going to be Jacob Jr."
I put my hand on my hip, below my increasingly protruding and problematic tummy. Doing just about anything was hard lately.
"We are not naming this baby Jake Jr." I insisted, suddenly willing to die on this hill. I almost always let Jake make the decisions, but this one felt personal.
He seemed to sense my mood. "How about you pick the middle name, and he can go by that normally. But he's still Jacob as his first name?"
I softened, the usual reticence at contradicting my husband taking over now that he was willing to compromise.
"Jacob Ashton Turner?" I asked, warming to the name.
"Sounds good!" He said. "I'm thinking we name the next boy after my grandpa Jeff, then you can name all the girls. Whatever you want." He offered generously.
"Well - that's, um. . ." It seemed really reasonable, but- "Wait, what do you mean about other kids? I'm one and done Jake!" Lugging around this belly had increasingly convinced me of the fact.
"Just one? Nah, I want six kids." Jake said confidently, but then saw my horrified expression. He tried another tack. "Well, at least a couple more? Can't you imagine it? The pitter patter of all those little feet on the hardwood?" He gestured to the walls of the huge new 'fixer-upper' house he'd bought us after his promotion. It was big, with 'good bones', and would eventually be a dream home once it was renovated. Now I understood why he'd insisted we go for the one with extra bedrooms even though it was outdated and needed work. "Think about all the trouble they'd make, and how much fun it would be to teach them about the world. We've got to have at least three, to make this house worth it."
"Well." I rubbed my belly, thinking. "Maybe. . . I'll think about one more?" I said, softening to the idea but still not sure.
"Only what you're comfortable with, Sweetie." He assured me, always the charmer.
++++
Eighteen months later
"Down boy, I just had another baby two months ago." I said with a smile, batting away my husband's hands.
Just like last time, he somehow seemed even more insatiable than usual with my post-partum body than the thinner one I'd had before, and theoretically would again, if I could just avoid getting knocked up.
His lust for my lush post-baby body had already led to trouble once - I'd practically had "Irish twins" as a result. It wasn't going to happen again.
"What if. . . I go down on you first?" He asked, and I froze. He didn't do that very often, but it was so, so - naughty and sexy. I loved it. Like most men, it was a special occasion thing.
I wavered.
"Ok, but if we have sex and you don't pull out I'm going to kill you in your sleep." I promised.
"Scout's honor," he promised. Crossing his hand over his chest.
+++++++
15 months later
"Ugh, I hate pumping." I said, wincing at my swollen breasts.
Our three goblins (all boys) were over at Janet's for the night, as she'd sensed we needed a break. Janet already had liters of my frozen breast milk in her freezer for toddler Jeffrey and baby Daniel, so I didnt need to worry, but I didn't feel like pumping tonight even though I needed to. My let down was soaking my bra and top.
"Look at what you've done to me, jerk!" I said reproachfully to Jake, who was watching the game on the bed next to me. I pulled down my top, and breast milk immediately beaded from my engorged breasts to my nipples.
Jake slowly looked away from the game, but then his gaze locked on my breasts in a way that made both him and me pause.
"Maybe. . . You don't have to pump tonight?" He said, and I inhaled sharply, my nipples hardening and squeezing out more liquid.
We'd mostly done mouth stuff since the last birth and I wasnt even tracking my cycle yet. It was irregular while I was breastfeeding anyways.
I swallowed. "Maybe not," I allowed and then he was on me like a wild man, providing the relief I needed, in multiple ways.
+++++++
Six months later
"This is absolutely the last time I'm ever pregnant again," I told myself. The belly felt nice though, and I had to force myself not to think about how the sex with my husband was always best at this stage. He was ravenous and wonderful.
But I had to stop at some point. I couldnt just be his gosh darn. . ..breeder.
Plus, we were running out of bedrooms, even in our huge newly renovated house.
++++
Three years later
"Are my breasts really just always going to be this big now?" I asked dejectedly over my shoulder while looking in the mirror. I could see that Jake was also taking a long look into the same mirror.
I'd weaned my fourth child over four months ago and while the milk had stopped 'the girls' had stayed huge. I'd finally had the chance to actually lose the baby weight, but despite how much thinner I'd gotten overall my breasts stayed stubbornly large. My body was curvier than ever given my seemingly permanently gained cup sizes and even more expanded hips.
The breasts were also almost unrealistically perky after having nursed four children on them, as if some lingering effect of the spell had decided I should always have perfect boobs. I wondered if Jake even knew how lucky he was?
"Maybe they'd get even bigger if we had another." Jake said, coming over and hugging me from behind, before gently cupping my huge breasts.
I gasped at the sensation. "Stop it, you!" I said, but I didn't push him away. I wasn't going to have the six kids he'd once said he wanted. Four was already way too many.
In idle moments, now that I was thin again, I did find myself reaching down to find my baby bump and finding only flat tummy.
So what if I sort of missed the feel of my pregnant body?
Sure, I was still only 27 despite being a mother of four, and almost certainly still very fertile, but enough was enough.
I'd finally mastered the whole "family planning" thing; with only four 'speedbumps'. Now I was the one guiding young uneducated women on the forum, and some of them were even successful in putting off their first pregnancy for almost year!
"Hngggh, Jakey. . ." I growl-moaned, as he continued to fondle me. Then I hissed in annoyed arousal when he kissed me under my ear, then again in the hollow of my neck.
No! Today was NOT a safe day.
"C'mon baby. . . We still don't have our baby girl. What's one more try? I promise this can be the last one, five kids would be just right. Compromise, right?" Jake's charm was always amplified when he was touching me.
He had asked for six originally. Five was a compromise of sorts.
No! I was already up to my neck in housework and childcare.
But then I imagined my belly getting big again, and all the pregnant sex we could have. It was always the best.
Then eventually, a little red-haired girl in pigtails, clutching on to my skirts as I puttered around the kitchen.
Jake kissed my neck again. Mmmmm. My lower lips tingled and moistened.
It was agony to push him away, then satisfy him with just a blowjob.
+++++++
Exactly one month later
I sighed in relief, picking up the last of worst detritus from my Jeffrey's birthday party. It felt like we were always either throwing a child's party or attending one these days.
Thankfully, Janet and some of the other mom's had taken all the kids out for a movie and pizza after the party to give us a break.
I found Jake sitting on the couch, but I couldn't complain since he'd actually help set up the whole thing and even kept the kids entertained during the party. He was a good husband and dad like that.
I teased him anyways. "Having a nice little break there, husband?" I cocked my hip and looked down at him in a very intentional way.
I'd been thinking about what he'd suggested last month and it hadn't been an accident I'd worn my little black dress today for the first time in a long time, knowing the kids would be out in the evening.
I'd prayed about it all month for an answer to what we should do, and I felt the truth in me. I was 100% sure that if God wanted us to have another child, it would definitely be a girl, and we should let it happen one more time.
Jake looked up at me, and his gaze traveled up my form slowly. I knew I looked good, even with the very slight but stubborn belly pooch that seemed impossible to get rid of after four pregnancies. I'd worked hard to get back in shape, and I loved when he appreciated it.
"Did you know I'm ovulating tonight?" I asked. " Like, the super fertile part of my cycle." Jake's eyes rose, and he sat up straighter.
"So. . ." he began, but I raised my hand.
"You get one more chance to knock me up again this week, but I booked you a vasectomy appointment next month. You're going to do it either way. If God wants us to have another baby, it will happen, and if it doesn't then we'll be happy with four." I arched an eyebrow, waiting for his response. Oddly, none of the increasingly conservative legislation around birth control had been aimed at limiting men's rights, and vasectomies were still legal unlike condoms, IUDs, abortions, or tubal ligations. Jake and the church were in agreement that it made sense that the men should have the choice, and I'd long ago decided it wasn't worth worrying about.
Jake just growled, picked me up, and carried me to the bedroom.
++++++++
Five months later
"Mom, what's a MILF?" Came the question from my eldest in the back of the minivan.
I froze, and looked up at him in the rearview mirror.
"Um, that's an adult phrase. Where did you hear it?" I asked neutrally.
"Well, some of the older guys at church were talking about you and they said you're 'like the milf-iest milf that ever milfed'. They said all the guys agreed. What does that mean?"
I blushed, spluttering. "Well, ah. . ." I had a pretty good idea which kids were saying such inappropriate things, but they certainly shouldn't be doing it at church or around my 8 year old son. "First of all, stay away from those boys from now on. Second of all, you'll learn what it when you're older. For now, just know it's not an insult. . . or a compliment, really." I blushed again, happy he let it go.
But for some reason, the idea of being the 'milf-iest milf' of the community made me glow inside. I'd been feeling better about my body the last few months and as an accepted 'matron' of the community I'd worried less about dressing so conservatively as when all eyes had seemed to be on me to judge my behavior. Maybe I'd have to cut out the low-cut dresses I'd started to like. Or maybe not. . . none of the women had said anything.
This unexpected 'praise' even softened the news I was still trying to get over from a few days ago and broke me out of the fugue I'd been in since.
Jake had knocked me up on that fateful evening, of course, and he'd even followed through with the vasectomy already.
When we went to the first ultrasound I'd known, in my heart, we were going to learn we were having a girl. I knew it.
I was bigger than I'd ever been at this stage, much bigger, but it must just mean she was healthy, or perhaps the doctors had messed up the conception date? Natural Family Planning wasn't foolproof, afterall, and I could have gotten pregnant a month prior to my ultimatum without knowing. My periods were pretty light and spotty generally.
What I hadn't expected was that I was even more right than I'd known about having a girl.
I was having three girls. Triplets. The doctors thought that since there were two placenta that two of the girls were probably identical and another fraternal.
Jake had wanted six kids. I'd wanted none, then one, then eventually five. . . now we'd have seven. SEVEN.
'The milf-iest milf that ever milfed'. The stupid phrase would stick with me forever.
This was a BLESSING, I insisted to myself. God had answered my prayers for a girl, threefold.
The divine did not do twisted jokes.
We were blessed. . .
+++++++
"Jaaaake . . . I don't know if I can do this. I'm a gosh darn blimp!" I said, reclining on the bed after my bath. "And there's two months to go!" I pouted.
"You're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." He said, and I believed he'd make love to his blimp right now if he had the chance.
"Thing?" I asked, smirking at him despite my discomfort. "I'm just a receptacle for your babies, aren't I? Seven of them!"
"You know what I mean," he said, taking one my feet into his hands for a rubdown, eliciting a moan from me. "And to prove I value you, wife, I've arranged for a nanny. Starting two weeks before the due date."
"Really!?!?" I exclaimed, suddenly excited.
"Yep, after the last promotion we can afford it." He said, switching feet.
"You're the best husband!" I said, meaning it.
A nanny! Finally!
Maybe I wasn't TOO uncomfortable, I thought, giving him a look. He smiled and his hands moved up my legs.
++++++
Author Note:
A combination of patriarchal religion, confident husband and overbearing mother in law is a "pushy trifecta", huh?
This one was fun, sorry for the delay. Got into the holidays and had no time.
Callout to Rosie Rider as the main model, and @awesomekate as the final chapter model. Despite the fact I faceswapped her for Rosie for continuity (except for the pregnant sex gifs), @awesomekate is every bit as gorgeous in her own way.
Kate in her glory
Please consider checking the models out and contributing to their various channels if you liked the story.
This story is not meant for redistribution or sale in any way.