Benny the Bumbling Bunny

Magic Egg #1

The First Rule -
Always ensure that the egg is hidden beneath the threshold of a young married couple. Should a single woman pass over the magic of the egg, irresponsible and immoral reactions can occur.

—the Bunny Handbook

Benny found himself on a very pleasant street in an upscale neighborhood. The sun was shining, the air was clean, and he was thrilled to be a real Easter Bunny. This was something he had waited for his entire life and something he had begun in recent decades to believe may never come true for him. He looked both ways at the corner of Juniper Street and North Juniper Street. Studying his torn slip of paper, he smiled.
“Juniper street it is.” Benny hopped along towards his very first delivery, a large old and worn home with wood siding. The paint was faded but it really gave the home a rather rustic dignified appearance. Hopping in the early morning air, Benny made his way to the front porch. Carefully he crawled beneath the steps and took out his first magic egg.
“Now to bury you before the believer leaves their door.” Benny said happily.
He carefully dug a small little bed into the dark earth and placed the egg in the hole. Patting his large feet back and forth over the surface, the egg was buried and ready for the magic to work. Hopping out from beneath the porch, Benny checked his map and went on his way.

Weiterlesen: BennyTheBumblingBunny

Die Geschichte gehört zur Kategorie "Growth, Enlargement, Body and Parts".
Und was da geschildert wird ist letztlich das, was in der Pubertät dann tatsächlich geschieht, hier natürlich ziemlich überzeichnet, oder ....?

Voluptuous Women 

Hunks 

Und ja, wir wissen doch, worum es geht: es geht um Kinder!

Wer hätte es gedacht, es geht um Kinder! Wie bringe ich Lebewesen mit Entscheidungskompetenz dazu, eine Entscheidung zu treffen, die ihnen persönlich nur Aufwand und Last bringt. Nicht wahr, an diesen Angelhaken gehört ein fetter Wurm. Und das Schöne daran ist, der Wurm lässt sich in einer Weise appetitlich machen, dass kein Fisch widerstehen kann. Generation um Generation wird er nun appetitlicher, wird der Hunger nach diesem Wurm intensiver.

Denn mag der Mensch seine Ziele auch rational verfolgen, die Ziele müssen nicht rational sein.

Ach ja, die Reihenfolge der Texte im neuen Testament ist natürlich nicht zufällig. Es beginnt mit den Evangelien, den Jesus-Geschichten, also dem Anfang. Dann kommt Paulus, der Gründer der Gemeinde. Und am Ende kommt, dann, die Zukunft, was sein wird, wenn der Herr wiederkommt, die Offenbarung. Ja, ja, so ist das eine runde Sache.

Dann will ich Euch, ihr lieben Leser und Brüder im Geiste, mal an meiner Offenbarung Teil haben lassen. Wie werden die Frauen der Zukunft sein, nachdem sie durch das Purgatorium des Neoliberalismus und des Feminismus gegangen sind. Wie werden die überlebenden Frauen sein.

Deanna repeated her lines in the mirror.
“Robert, I’m going home tonight,” she said. “To Mom’s. I’ll call you when I get there. I’ve contacted a divorce lawyer and left his number by the phone so that you can call him tomorrow morning. His name is Steven and he’s very professional.”
Then she would pick up her purse, one overnight bag of clothes, and walk out the door. The wispy brunette twisted her wedding ring with her right hand. Her heart was pounding.
A glass of wine would be exquisite, but she had to drive over four hours tonight.
She checked the clock on the wall. 5:50. The wall itself was cheap clapboard, one of many other prefab homes brought in for the Construction Team. Calving was way too far from anywhere.
A little part of her whispered that she couldn’t do this.
After all, if she was so collected, why had she dressed up like a… like a cheap tart?
She hadn’t worn denim shorts like these since college. They hugged her rear end. And her bright pink stretch top looked like club clothing, showing off her wobbling tits.
Time and time again she had told Robert that all that growth wasn’t natural. No one grew two cup sizes at twenty-five.
But then he had just put his big, callused hands over them, and grinned like a boy in a candy store. Except for some squeaking. They were very sensitive. That wasn’t normal, either.
The front door opened.
Robert had a half-day of stubble and helmet hair from the hard hat. He grinned when he saw her standing there, in her heels, twisting one behind her back. He wore dusty blue jeans and a plaid shirt she had bought for him.
Deanna tried to say the lines and nothing came out.
He pecked her on the lips. Deanna inhaled, involuntarily.
The scent of a day’s worth of hard work and sweat climbed off him, onto her, and right up to the center of her head. It touched the huge wobbling cushion that was her new libido and stamped up and down. Hard.
There was just so much of him. Every since they had come out to this cow town, Robert’s masculine, testosterone-laced scent had climbed into her panties and never ever left. Once she had masturbated just from the scent left on his pillow.
She could feel moisture budding on the outside of her pussy. Again. The brunette was dribbling so much these days she had to concentrate to stay hydrated.
She had shaved her snatch for him yesterday, and then cursed herself for the weakness.
“Hey, good news!” he said, heading over to the kitchen. Deanna just stood there, trying to put her fractured head back together. The scent… lingered. She tried to keep her eyes fixed on the chair. But they had fucked there just last week, her legs spread obscenely wide as—
“You can still do this!” she reminded herself. “You don’t need to climb aboard that monster for one more… delicious ride…”
She managed to squeak “What’s the news?”
“Promotion!” he said, smiling widely and cracking open a beer. And one for her. “Gonna be running the concrete laying from now on. The Boss likes my work ethic. An extra two dollars an hour plus the management is watching me now, you know?”
“Which means he makes, what, fourteen dollars an hour now?” her Mom’s voice told her.
Instead, Deanna beamed at him. “That’s amazing!” she gushed. He handed her the can. She got another intoxicating whiff of him. So sharp… and so very male. Like a tanned piece of leather, mixed with hot gravel and dirt.
He was staring at her tits.
Why shouldn’t he? They were so much bigger. Big tubs of boob, swiveling in a hot pink shirt. Even his artless kneading sent fireworks off in her bubbling head.
Deanna clenched her thighs together and felt moisture budding.
“Did you go job-hunting today?” he asked, sitting down on his favorite chair. “I saw a help wanted in front of that diner. You might meet some more people there.”
His legs were open. He was bigger, too. A big dick. Robert said it was probably an illusion, or because of the hard work. But an extra inch and a half of meat between his thighs wasn’t something you could hide. Especially when it was always pumping between your legs. Or from behind.
“Not today. Maybe tomorrow,” Deanna said.
He was right next to her. She could smell him. Like a rough, callused cowboy. Her man.
“Okay!” Robert said, cheerfully. He picked up his can. “What do you want to do to celebrate?”
“Celebrate,” Deanna thought.
Right. He had gotten a promotion.
She should show her man how appreciative she was. She was his wife, after all.
Deanna sank gracefully to her knees. She pulled out her tits, first, to give Robert something to watch.
He grinned. Getting a spectacular blowjob on his return home had nearly become a ritual. Robert had no idea what was going on with his pretty young wife—the insatiable sexual appetite, the extreme attentiveness to his needs—but he didn’t feel like complaining.
Deanna fumbled with the fly. Robert’s cock was already at half-mast, rising through his boxers. The full force of his heady mix of pheromones socked her in the face as soon as she had his pants down.
She was soaking her panties.
“Don’t have sex with him,” Deanna told herself. “Just a blowjob. You’ve given hundreds. Then you can go.”
She had started counting days ever since half the women in the construction compound had announced pregnancies. Half the reason she was leaving was to avoid the growing chorus of goofily-grinning girls clutching expanding waistlines.
She descended on the familiar, reassuring length of Robert’s cock. The warmth filled her mouth to overflowing, and part of it bobbed at the back of her throat. She waited for it, patiently, and the first trickle of precum dropped into her mouth on cue.
“You’ve gotten real good at this, babe,” Robert said, admiringly, and she blushed at the compliment. Deanna locked her lips around the hardness in her mouth, swiping her tongue along the underside, and coaxed dribbles of precum out of his cock.
Her pussy spasmed and clenched. At times she had slipped a finger into her needy snatch, but usually now she usually tried to concentrate on being the best cocksucker she could be.
“I’m a good wife,” she told herself. “I’m being a supportive spouse.” She was his. Owned, really. There to satisfy his needs.
Robert examined her bouncing tits. They had been adequate handfuls when they moved out here. But two months on country food had swelled them up into heavy knockers, topped with sensitive nipples.
Usually he felt content with a leisurely blowjob, but Robert had gotten a promotion that day. Most of the guys at work talked about fucking their braying wives and girlfriends into unconsciousness. Why not him?
“Hey Deanna, stand up,” Robert said. She did, staring at him uncertainly with her bright green eyes. A drooling bit of cum fell out of her mouth.
“Why don’t you bend over on that chair?” He said, gesturing. His cock bobbed in front of him.
“But…” Deanna tried to say something. “At least get him to use a condom!” she shrieked at herself.
Her pussy was on fire. It was bright pink and juicy. She looked like a very fuckable wife with it smooth. At least, that’s what she had told the bathroom mirror.
Deanna rested her bountiful chest up against the side of the table, and peered back nervously at her husband’s approaching dick. White fluid spread across it.
“Don’t… come in me, okay?” she muttered, quietly. “Not today.”
“Sure thing,” Robert assured her, then slipped his cockhead neatly inside her slippery folds.
Deanna screamed.
Shocks of pleasure cascaded through her sweaty, overripe body. Her tits blushed with pleasure, and she scrabbled at her nipples, trying to squeeze out a few more drops of heat. The neighbors could hear in every direction. She didn’t care. Most of them were screamers, too.
More wisps of Robert’s sex-juice scent stained the inside of her head. Flickers of images rippled through her. Her tits, heavy with milk, dribbling all over the linoleum floor. Getting fucked in the exact same position, only with a huge belly, smiling during her afternoon lay. Cooing over a cradle as her man returned from work with an aching hardon. For her.
He was slick with juice. Robert’s cock burrowed towards her womb, jetting squirts of cum. He had lost control, deep within a slick, tight snatch, thrusting hard behind her swaying ass.
“Come in me, come in me!” Deanna screamed, lost in her own orgasm.
Robert came. Cum gushed and flowed around his cock, coating her with a white batch of goo. Deanna nearly banged her head against the table, and she weakly pulled and yanked on her oversensitive nipples.
When he pulled out of her, she dripped onto the floor, still perfumed with his masculine scent. Usually she spent her evenings luxuriating in it, bathed in his aroma, while cooking dinner. This time she played with the ropes of cum dribbling out of her, and imagined herself swelling up.
Robert, still naked, sat back down and picked up his beer.
“What’s this?” he said, pointing to a written down number next to the phone.
“What’s what, honey?” Deanna said, and rubbed her thighs together to hold in the cum.

Weiterlesen: CalvingSigns