The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

On Saturday, Jelena met with the new fat gross cow of a resident.

She wasn’t quite the building manager. The building manager was a woman named Rahmi who, despite her youth, had thirty-one properties to maintain, this one the most far-flung outpost of a rental empire. But on move-in Jelena had spent a full four hours showing Rahmi different options for the improvement of the building’s carbon and water footprint.

The tired representative had offered her two hundred off rent to act as sub-manager, and Jelena had accepted. The world, she’d found, offered few opportunities to improve it. It was vital to grasp those that came her way.

In that role she’d pioneered low-flow showerheads and extra-low-flow toilets. She’d stopped maintenance on the rooftop pool, allowing it to become a sanctuary for local birds. They didn’t have solar, yet, but only because all the solar installers in the city were men intent on profits and margins.

And she’d encouraged renting to a more vulnerable population—single young women, even better if they were diverse. With a few low-key men to keep up appearances. And to Rahmi’s shy twin sister, Jelena had discovered.

Families did apply, but didn’t need to. Jelena strongly felt that there were better buildings for them and their resource-sucking often-screaming young charges. Serious couples, also, were turned away. The leases were year terms, which meant an unacceptable risk that three of those months would be in the company of a screeching, red-faced infant.

As a result Breed Lane was just how she liked it. Quiet. Electricity use was minimal, water use was tightly controlled.

But now Rahmi had, somehow, rented to a pregnant woman.

A very pregnant woman.

“Now, I went ahead and changed my showerhead,” Terri drawled. “It was just doing little dribble-drabbles? Now it’s like getting bent over and used by good ’ol WATER!”

She looked very big and yet, somehow, very innocent. Terri waited until Jelena had her head inside the shower before, very accidentally, turning the knob. Jelena got an entire moutfhful, and her head doused, in a glob of special slut solution that was, at best, thirty-five percent water. It tasted good. Like bubblegum.

“Whoops!” Terri said.

The woman was infuriating, and Jelena was really struggling with her trademark calm. Her ethos was deeply attached to calm. It was why she was the icy victor of thousand online struggles for rhetorical dominance, why she had ultimately outlasted three exasperated supervisors at work.

But that was all words, and Terri found a variety of ways to just get crud all over her.

When she’d walked in, to discuss an electricity use that could power a Dave and Buster’s, Terri had dropped a bag of—flour? but why was it pink?—straightaway. It still clung to Jelena’s clothes. And she’d dropped a full glass of some smoothie-esque concoction on Jelena’s shirt, AND dislodged a huge cloud of dust while checking on the power strip. It was a lot of sprays, and dusts, and drips, and so on. Jelena felt the need for a shower. A proper low-flow one, and not the spray torrent that this new resident had installed.

Although a warm misty waterfall, planet be damned, did sound pretty good...

She shook her head. “Uhhhhhh—anywayyyyyyyy.” She let the words stretch out, struggling to put herself into mental gear. Why was it so hard to find a third word in a row?

Terri waited very patiently for Jelena. She’d spritzed the girl with a dozen different transformative agents. Far more than necessary—a Calving operative could get a girl started down the road to Whore City with a salacious wink—but she was having fun. When Jelena had zoned out, for a good ten minutes, Terri had licked her hand and rubbed it on the short girl’s nose and face.

“Anyyyyyyyway,” Jelena repeated. She was feeling—slow. And—moist. Why moist? She somehow shifted herself into first. “Right. Yes. Being pink.... sorry.... being green is important to us here. To me personally. I want the planet around for—I guess it’d be YOUR next generation.”

“My what?” Terri said, confused. She followed Jelena’s gaze. “Oh! Right! I’m pregnant!”

“Yes, congrats on the tax writeoff,” Jelena said, with surprisingly little venom. It sounded like an actual congratulations. What was going on with her?

“Oh, they’re such fun!” Terri enthused. “Getting pregnant is the MOST fun but being pregnant is second. I guess having the baby is—third? Is that what comes next? But yeah. Sorry, we were talking about breeding? Being bred?”

“We were—” Were they? Jelena risked spacing out again, but pulled herself out of it. Which meant Terri didn’t get to stick her finger in Jelena’s mouth, as she’d been planning. Oh well. Better for the wait. “Uh. Breeding. Yeah, no Animals breed, humans procreate.” Wait, was that it? Maybe it was the other way around.

“Why not both?” Terri said. She theatrically pulled out a spritzer of mouth freshener, and, with a lot of fanfare and fumbling, managed to spray it directly into Jelena’s face.

‘Oopsie!”

Jelena was feeling increasingly muzzy, and it was especially hard to keep arguing. Arguing required anger, or at least a level of indignancy, and the last spray especially had her in a pleasant fog. But she’d been involved in too many forum wars to back down. “Babies are—are—” where were her usual arguments? Didn’t they leech the calcium from her very bones, something like that? Something something women were more than wombs? But she DID have a vast apparatus down there for catching sperm, harboring an egg, and incubating for nine months. Maybe it was like leaving a parking spot she’d paid for empty. “Uh. Uhhh... what are you doing?”

“Moisturizing my hands,” Terri said. She looked down, and blinked. “Oh, sorry, these are YOUR hands! I’m super-super sorry.” She’d rubbed a creamy pink gunk into both hands, and made sure not to neglect the spaces between fingers.

Jelena looked at her hands, increasingly confused.

“Breath mint?” Terri said. She took advantage of Jelena’s open mouth to put three or four doctored chiclets in there. She giggled. Sometimes it was nice to just slut a girl up. “Oh! There you go!”

Jelena fuzzed out.

“Anyyyyyy-way,” Jelena said, some time later. Terri had spent the time humming and watching a show on TV, and sticking her fingers in Jelena’s mouth. “Lets try and keep the environ... um... enviro—” she dug deep. “ENVIRONMENTAL impact to a minimum. Welcome to the apartment complex. Try and keep noise to a minimum. Did you hear something?”

Terri shrugged. She’d taken a long time with this girl, dosing and drugging her, and forgotten the hour. Hasan was starting to wake up. And that despite her nearly suffocating the man in pussy! She’d been a little worried he’d suffered oxygen deprivation. But apparently not, as he was making guttural noises. “Nope!” she said, and stood up.

Just for good measure, and because it was fun, she stuck a needle in Jelena’s butt, and squeezed a serum into it. The heavily drugged girl didn’t even notice. It contained a special compound that made sure that, when an egg dropped, it wasn’t lonely. Calving girls had to do a lot, but Terri had never forgotten that the number one, most important job of all was to breed and breed and breed.

She was pretty sure it wasn’t procreating, the way she did it.

On Sunday Jelena attended a baby shower.

It was far from her first one. Her branch of Cambodian expats had heard of birth control, and politely rejected it. Jelena had cousins upon cousins upon cousins—the family joke was that, if the telephones went down, her family could just yell messages on relay through the city.

It was remarkable, she’d often thought, how apparently every one of the girls she’d grown up with had harbored an eventual desire to get knocked up.

All of them...

“Jelena!” a mom-to-be squealed, and wrapped her up in a partial hug. Her pudgy stomach pushed against Jelena. Arunny had long hair, nearly down to her bulging tummy. The same maternity gear cycled around the family, elastic gradually giving way. Jelena had seen Arunny’s pink-bow blouse on a number of other girls. “Come on in! Sorry to be the next one to ruin the planet!”

She patted herself, triumphant. Jelena understood that her disapproval had become a rite of passage, and obscurely thrilling. Cousin Jelena had big thoughts about water usage, and electricity running out, and the earth’s carrying capacity. Cousin Jelena went to protest marches with extra signs for others. Cousin Jelena had condoms, if anyone needed one, and she felt that you did need one.

There was something thrilling to these girls in throwing prudent population control to the wayside, wrapping two legs around a phallus, and making new life. Arunny had mounted some willing man, and urged him on, content to have her entire life rearranged. She’d probably rocked her hips as he’d cum, to make sure she was good and inseminated...

Jelena was sternly against it, of course. She rubbed at her own tummy, self-conscious. It would get SO big...

“Cuzzzzz!” a bunch of bowling ball bellies said, waving at her. Even Jelena was startled at the amount of breeding. When had it gotten this bad? While they were a fecund bunch, no doubt about it, she had no idea that there was a huge baby boom in progress. No surprise that Bopha and Sophea were pregnant again, but Alice? Chea? She hadn’t even known they were dating anyone.

But nearly everyone was some stage of plump, and they were all gobbling the impressive baby shower spread. Five different kinds of pork, an enormous tub of lemonade, and—oddly—an ice cream bar, with a bunch of different sprinkles. That seemed to be the biggest hit, everyone making colossal sundaes for themselves. There were ice cream and fudge stains on a lot of maternity dresses.

The actual new Mom waved at her. “Thanks for the donation!” she said, cheerful. Jelena always made a donation, in their name, to some worthy organization that would mitigate their burden on the earth. As time had gone on the cousins had stopped even asking where it went.

Someone pushed ice cream on her, already assembled in a big plastic bowl. It was some sort of egg-white vanilla, and already covered in sprinkles. The sprinkles were—Jelena peered at it—yes. They were penises. Sugar cocks. It was a little shocking—as much as these events celebrated insemination, they weren’t usually vulgar about it.

But, fine.

She did love ice cream, and it smelled... good. Did ice cream usually smell good? She recalled it as usually just wafting a few clean notes of sugar. This one was redolent of... something. And encrusted with candy dicks. The sprinkles even came in a number of different colors, and there were a few stray sugar hairs along the base.

tt tasted good, too. Creamy. Really creamy.

“Okay, get seated!! Almost time for games!!” Arunny said, moving them around into a circle. Jelena took a seat next to Linda, her sole ally in these situations. Linda had never quite picked an identity—she’d been a goth at one point, a sleek corporate creature, a tweedy master’s degree student—but none of them were fattening fiancee, and that counted for something. She wasn’t thin, but she also wasn’t bulging, although the ice cream she was stuffing into herself was working on that.

All the cousins were dedicated to their desserts, spoons flickering as they accumulated dairy stains on their flushed cheeks.

“Looks like we’re the last holdouts,” Jelena told Linda, who barely seemed to register it. But that was—fine, actually. Nothing wrong with ice cream.

Jelena took another bite, and had a dissociative moment. The many chemicals inside of her were starting to tell. They’d only waited this long because it had been unclear who got first dibs, at making her horny.

All the girls in the room looked a lot like—her. Pregnant her. Versions of it, different Jelenas who had realized that female joy was programmed in. There was no way she could stay the holdout forever. She was achingly fertile, destined to swell and expand, just like the rest of them. She was trying to save nature but deny her own, her need to breed, how obviously content they all were...

She’d look ADORABLE pregnant. All of them did, five foot one and two glowing units of pregnancy. All of their boobs had gotten pleasantly swollen, and were now on display—wobbling as more ice cream was spooned in.

Jelena blinked, and dug a nail into her own skin.

What was she DOING? But it smelled—like ice cream, but also... feminine. In part a bunch of sweet body creams and subtle hair products, but also something more animal, the scent of milk and ovulation and come-hither looks and gentle submission. No one smelled like career. It was.. nice...

Melted ice cream bubbled out of her lips, unnoticed.

“Okay!” Arunny said, tearing herself from the treats, and breathing hard. “Games! Conception stories!”

“Arunny!” Jelena said, shocked, but the others giggled and jostled each other. Conception STORIES? What happened to licking hershey’s syrup off a diaper? That was just gross. This was... hot.

‘I’ll start. I was doing dishes and looking very, very, impregnable, according to Steven. And you know I’m short, so he couldn’t bend me over exactly, he had to pick me up and THEN bend me over. He’s been... sooooooo.. STRONG... lately. And I was like, you better pull out! And he was like, if I feel like it! And then he didn’t feel like it.”

This was—shocking behavior. Jelena and the cousins had definitely agreed, if on nothing else, on a prudish attitude towards sex, even as they yearned for its consequences. To just start volunteering information about getting bred was—

hot—no, it was appalling, to see these girls recount the moment of pleasure that had condemned them to nine months of swollen ankles and elastic waistbands. There was no way it was worth it, even if Steven holding her up in the air, just so he could fuck her pussy, was a really sexy thought...

The air smelled... wet.

“So I’ve been taking these energy supplements from—umm—some brand.. Cow Power?” This was Dara, twirling her hair. She’d been training to be an accountant, Jelena knew. “And they left me—well, wow. Wow! I ended up just following my boyfriend from room to room, trying to get knocked up. I think he stuck it in me just to shut me up. It was the garage. We didn’t even have the door closed. I just... I just... needed it.”

“I booked us a night away and we didn’t even get there,” Sok said. She was the shortest of them all, probably not five feet tall. “We had to pull over and I just climbed on top of him. And then I was so worried it’d drip out of me I just kept my butt scooched up while he drove really carefully.”

Additional stories came out, each of them surprisingly sordid. Not one of these girls just got dumped in, in a regular bed. Jelena slumped in her seat, occasionally spooning more ice cream into herself. No one seemed to be holding even minimal standards about proper child planning. These were ruts—spontaneous, fevered ruts, all her mannered and well-brought-up girls succumbing to lust. Of course that was inevitable. It was obvious to any girl from a young age that pregnancy was at best inconvenient, at worst dangerous, and yet they went from maidens to mothers, popping out kids with similar dazed, horny smiles. It was their lot in life. It was so hot...

Jelena sniffed. It was moist in the room. Melting ice cream? No.. she could even smell herself. Pulsing and short of breath, her nipples upturned. With all the big preggo tits in the room it was easy to see the state of everyone’s nipples.

“It was doggy style that did it,” Karen told them, matter of fact. She had won awards for her math ability, in high school. “Missionary and all that just wasn’t hitting the spot. And then he just started... taking me. Stretching me out, enjoying himself, and it was... the best. We have a bracelet for when I’m ready to go, I read about it online, and I just stopped taking it off. Alright. Who’s next?”

They’d been through most of the circle. The only two left were Linda and Jelena, which meant that, blessed be, they were done. She wasn’t the only one feeling very warm after eight consecutive stories of fevered, unregretted breeding. All the girls were sitting low, their eyelids trembling, and knocking their knees together. Jelena had heard a lot about those knees, swinging open eagerly for any number of men. Her own knees fought to stay close. A losing battle. They made it sound so... unstoppable. Her body wanted it, to swell with her own progeny, to do that most enjoyable item on the human lifecycle. Her tits would get so swollen...

Jelena fought through the haze. But they were done. Linda was next. Linda, who had shared a cigarette with her after preceding baby showers, who had run away from home to follow a band, not even a very good band. Who had never, ever, ever been just a girl, Linda who liked rock climbing, who knew how to throw an axe.

“Um. He’s my manager at work,” Linda said, coyly. She patted at her tummy. Jelena’s jaw dropped, and she compensated for her shock by shoveling more ice cream into her mouth.

“LINDA!” Arunny said, thrilled. They were all thrilled, squealing and excited. Excited, that Linda had gotten knocked up, out of wedlock, with some random male who had casually inseminated her. She was going to have such big boobs.

“He’s six feet one!” Linda said, and everyone nodded except Jelena. No, she was nodding too—six foot one, that was tall. Men generally took what they wanted, that was their right, and especially men of a certain height. “You know, I’m working at the mall these days. Just wanted some... money. And he kept making these lame passes and every day the lines got a little less lame. Like, maybe its nice to hear I fell out of heaven, you know? Its nice to have a guy slap your ass and maybe reach around you and grab your tits. From time to time.”

“It IS nice,” Dara said, nodding fiercely.

Linda managed a slight blush. This, from a girl who had a bugout bag hidden in the woods, for any and all emergencies. Who had, to Jelena’s memory, never once worn a skirt, much less a dress. “Anyway, it was late and we were the only two there and he was already grabbing my butt and telling me I should call him Mister Flintstone. Because he could make my bed rock.”

“And you let him stick his dick in you. And squirt. And fertilize,” Jelena said. Some sleazy mall manager. Although she HAD said he was six foot one. And what else did a girl need to know? Plus, a manager, that meant something...

Linda looked her right in the eyes.

“It was the greatest moment of my life,” she said, completely sincerely. “I’m pregnant. I did it.”

Jelena stood up, and was aware of how wet she was, between her legs. “What is WRONG with you! All of you!” she said, despairing. “We spent summers together! We were the first American generation! Half of us were supposed to be doctors, the other half were—I don’t know, Senators or something! Now you’re all barefoot and kitchen-bound and—”

And... pitying her.

There wasn’t a trace of regret in any of their eyes. They were pitying her! With their swollen ankles and uncertain life path, they still all felt—all of them!—that getting pregnant was the right decision. That a moment of fun with some hairy male was worth it—no, more than that, that it was all just going to happen. She was designed for this. Once a month she dropped an egg, and sooner or later some sweet-talking man would get her panties down. And she’d enjoy it. She’d love it.

She was just a girl, after all.

Jelena barely registered that she was still slurping ice cream as she talked. It had melted down into a translucent, pearly sheen. Goopy and white, with a trace of sea salt, and dotted with the candy penises. It was actually produced in Calving itself, about fifty percent breast milk, twenty-five percent cum, and the other twenty-five percent some very spicy chemicals. And a dash of vanilla. She’d already gone through two pints.

“What happened to changing the world?” she said, turning to Linda. Linda who was, she realized, dressed in a baby-blue little skirt, and white tennis shoes. Who had a ribbon in her hair. How had she not noticed that before? “Is getting some... some DICK really that special?”

It was hopeless.

Jelena didn’t realize it, but Calving had long ago confronted the issue with what to do with the immobility of heavily pregnant girls. Of course being a warm and nurturing womb was the most important thing, but couldn’t they spread the word even when volleyball-shaped?

The solution was to have them pass along the utter contentment, the stupid bliss of getting pumped full of baby batter, to all nearby women, via their sweat-stink in the air. Just proximity to a pregnant Calving girl would lead all nearby girls to become needy and hyperfertile, marinating in her powerful pheromones. And a clutch of them, in a closed room? While drinking cumshakes?

Jelena’s womb ached for it.

She needed to get inseminated. Needed it, yearned for it. It would complete her...

“Excuse me,” Jelena choked, through a mouthful of pasteurized jizz and cream. She bolted to the bathroom, shut the door, and panted, sweating. Images of baby bottles and tiny rattles coursed through her. On the way home she’d find a man, waggle her ass at him...

“No, no,” Jelena told herself. She was going to fix the world, through mutual aid, and marches, and certainly not just popping out infants on an overburdened earth. Flat on her back, urging a lover onward, smelling him on her, wondering what his children would look like.

She was being so stupid. How could an animal be anything other than an animal?

She was rubbing between her legs, but it just added to her frustration. She could picture him—six foot TWO, with a chest like the door to a safe, and chest hair she could hold on to. He wouldn’t bother to ask, and she’d definitely not say no. A man like that deserved to impregnate her.

And she was definitely going to get fucking pregnant.

On Monday Jelena looked at pictures of men.

She’d hoped sincerely that going to the office would solve her increasingly soggy dreams. The office was not a sexy place. They didn’t have any real childcare options—girls who found themselves in a family way were grudgingly given their legal leave, and then not promoted. There weren’t even many girls—it was a boy-heavy firm, with just about no one in dresses. Including Jelena, who always wore pants.

She wore a skirt to work.

She wasn’t even sure where she had gotten it—at the baby shower? The rest of that day was an ice cream-heavy blur. Had she been crying at some point, mourning her lack of adorable huggable babies to nurse against her big heavy tits? Had the girls compared their milk-heavy boobs at some point, unleashing way oversized jugs from overstuffed maternity bras? That had to have been a fake memory. She would’ve run out.

“Jelena, all the office girls are getting a wellness visit from the new owners,” her Supervisor, Ryan, said. “Right now.”

“Right now? When did we get new owners? What’s a wellness visit?” Jelena stopped, to let her mouth catch up to her brain. “Why just the girls?”

Ryan shrugged, in a sexist way. To indicate that girl problems were girl problems. “That’s a lot of questions. Now now, recently, its a visit for wellness, I guess girls need wellness”

“Girls need wellness?” Jelena said. Asking all those questions had been a mistake. Now she had to process the answers. “Ummmm.”

Ryan smirked. All six foot... something, of him. At least six. Maybe six one. And why not six foot two?”

What’s that on your screen?” he said. “Is that me?”

Jelena flushed. It was too late to change her computer screen.

The truth was, her company maintained a staff directory, and she’d been viewing it. To see the boys.

All of the boys.

See who’d make a good daddy.

“Nevermind! Dumb questions! I’ll be right there, sir,” she babbled.

The “sir” just slipped out. At least it wasn’t “Daddy”.

Jelena had concluded that she was ovulating, and how. Some sort of ovulation influenced by the moons, a once-a-decade ovulation, where all the conditions were right for her body to flourish with procreative energy. As close to being in heat as a human could be, real estrus time. Her tits were terribly swollen, unable to fit into a bra of any kind. Her body in general was trying its hardest to attract a mate—she’d put her legs in the skirt, and noted how silky her skin seemed. Her cheeks were very rosy red. And was her voice higher, advertising some sort of feminine lilt? She was being ridiculous. She’d thrown things at cops.

She’d tried to burn off the sexual energy innocently, but it was too much fun to look at the sober pictures of co-workers and have pleasantly foggy dreams. Men were fun to assess as mating partners. Ryan was stern, a go-getter, dark black hair. A no-nonsense mate that would have a baby in her before end of day. Christopher, her coworker, was a classic—he sympathized with her activism and would no doubt accommodate a written request for baby making. And it turned out she worked with a neighbor, Seth, an IT guy who had that greatest ability of all, availability.

And why not mix-and-match, and see what popped out nine months later? What fun!

Jelena tried the dig-nails-into-palm technique, again, and it didn’t work. Her body was co-partners with her mind, it turned out. She’d had to fight a desire to paint her nails. All her stern self-reminders that she thought babies were gross, that men were generally pretty bad, that the planet had no need for another fucking person, weren’t working. They weren’t reaching her pussy. It was puffy and moist.

“Ooooookay! Hello girls!”

These were—nurses? They wore nurse-esque gear, somewhere at the line between actual nursing and special-order fetish-wear. The white redhead with the huge tits had a name tag on that read Ally, the black girl with the huge tits and the gold bracelet had a name tag on that read, Michelle.

And they’d brought ice cream with them.

“Question,” Lydia said, not raising her hand. “Why are just the women here?”

“Good question,” Jelena echoed. It highlighted how few girls the company had. Had a number of girls quit, recently? Probably happy at home, stroking their bellies, performing light housework, and waiting for their man to inspect his handiwork.

“GREAT question,” Michelle said. Her chest wobbled. How did they both have such big boobs? They had to enter the room one by one, and carefully, in case their big asses hit the doorframe. “Its because girls have special health needs, silly! Its very hard for men to get pregnant, although we’re working on it! We’d double production!”

GIrls DID have special health needs. Boys wouldn’t be keeping their legs tightly crossed, in case they leaked.

“Soooo we know that the corporate world is like, super-shitty to working girls,” Ally said, matter-of-fact. “And we made it so that girls have paid time off for having a baby, and for getting pregnant, and for being pregnant, and for helping other girls get pregnant! In fact, they never have to come back to the corporation ever again!”

They had a slideshow on a screen in the conference room, and it flickered with the world’s best family leave plan. The plan was to leave and have a family. Along with a flicker effect that—and was that an image of a healthy, happy baby, being held by a grinning mother? Jelena squinted, trying to read. She felt a thread of embarrassment. She’d known the company was shitty to women. And she hadn’t cared, at all, because getting knocked up seemed... anti... pro.. gessive? Certain words were getting priority-drained from her vocabulary, and that was one of them.

“Um, I mean, girls, think about it,” Michelle said. “Every day we’re getting penetrated by foot long cocks. Like, they go inside of us. And not just in one place, they stuff those big monsters in our butts, our mouths, our pussies, and not at all gently. Like, over and over! That’s a lot of work! You’re like an oil well for dicks!”

“And over and over and over!” Ally added, shaking her head. The other girls in the circle were shivering, and Jelena had to fight off the same impulse. Pumped and pumped and pumped....

“Plus they SHOOT into us! Violently! Bang bang! Which means nine months of lugging a baby around! It’s an urgent health issue, all these yummy, wonderful dicks!” Michelle said.

It was going by fast, this induction, but Calving’s fertility classes weren’t supposed to be subtle.

They were intended especially for company girls, who would be safely passed around management or other male employees following their swift transformation into tittering baby-crazed toys. So it was fine to just gas all the girls. Jelena and all the others were breathing in concentrated pink smoke, from the special Calving Cowgirl Candle line. Burned for several hours, in an enclosed place, it would replace oxygen with a blend of hormones and helium. Girls left permanently light-headed.

It was all making a lot of sense to Jelena. How could she be a committed feminist while—she had to face it—consistently denying her own femininity? This was third or fifth or tenth wave femina—femina—feministamism. One where getting hot gooey injections of cum was truly essential.

“Sometimes,” Michelle said, conspiratorially, “they even stuff an entire FOOT of hard, thrusting cock inside of our poor lil snatches.”

The image hung in the air. A full foot of cock, up her pussy. An entire foot of penis. In her. Thrusting in her. Inside of her. And then—

“Ummm... foot long?” Linda managed to say. “Are—are you two pregnant?”

“N—” Michelle started, before looking at Ally, who was vigorously nodding. “Yes. Turns out yes. And we are...” Ally held up four fingers. “Five months along. Yay for us!”

“Lets continue with the slideshow,” Ally said, nodding to her partner. They oozed around the room, in matching sheath dresses. Just one of them would’ve filled the conference room with an eye-catching array of tits and ass. The both of them barely fit.

“But first, ice cream!” Michelle said. She had pre-scooped out a bunch of cups. It was the same quasi-vanilla from the baby shower, and Jelena tried to push it away. She wasn’t sure what that stuff had done to her, but she’d woken up a few cup sizes bigger. Of course, she was fine with that—being more female was normal, and good.

“It’s okay!” Ally said, always cheerful. Over the years they’d been personally responsible for the birth of thousands of babies, a large fraction of them by themselves. The twosome often timed their conceptions to the second, squeezing their partners at just the right moment, to guarantee mutual labor. “It’s healthy! Girls need SO many proteins and fats, it’s really nuts. And carbs too. Honestly, just start eating and never stop, it’ll be fine. And here!”

She had a pill bottle in hand, and shook it on top of Jelena’s generous ice cream scoop. A dozen big gummies covered the cup. “Wh-what are they?” Jelena said, picking one up. At least it wasn’t dick-shaped. Instead, they were rattles.

“Pre-natal vitamins!” Ally explained.

So that was okay then. True, she wasn’t pregnant, and Jelena reminded herself she had no intention of getting pregnant. Yes, she supported women who chose to make that wonderful, hot choice. Who wrapped their ankles around their partners, combining their DNA in glorious fulfillment of their biology, making sense of that complicated apparatus between their legs, making use of their bountiful tits. But it really wasn’t for HER.

She chewed on a half-dozen gummies. They really were full of Vitamin C and many other essential nutrients, along with the usual bomb of brain-altering drugs. Rubbing just one on a girl’s tongue was usually enough to send her into a breeding haze.

“I gotta—I gotta go—” Linda mumbled, trying to stand up. Her legs weren’t cooperating, and her mouth was stuffed with ice cream. Michelle was right behind her, despite her heft. Linda had to sit down—there was no room to move, among those big boobs. And to top it off, Michelle reached around her panting work friend’s chest and gave her own boobs a squeeze.

“We’re also doing mammograms!” Michelle announced, and all the girls nodded, relieved. Right, that was an important aspect of women’s health. Everyone needed to get their tits squeezed.

The slideshow started to play. Or was it a video? There were a number of bullet points on screen, but in a juicy-pink font that wavered and teased her eye, making them nearly sting. That didn’t mean Jelena didn’t stare at it. She stared at it very hard.

“The fifty-six reasons to have a baby and the one reason not to,” Ally read. No—didn’t read. She was helping Linda with her mammogram. Linda was kind of embarrassing herself, dribbling ice cream down her chin just because she was getting her boobs mashed together and energetically stroked. Now it made sense why the event was women-only. It was so thoughtful of the company to sponsor an event just for them. Jelena was half inclined to revisit her dislike of capitalism.

“I think there’s more than ONE reason not to—not to—” Jelena couldn’t quite finish the sentence. Mostly because her mouth was full of cream and pills, but also because it was her turn to get her tits squeezed. Luckily she’d worn a tanktop, and even more luckily, she hadn’t worn a bra. The girls were very full and heavy that day, and she hadn’t been motivated to squeeze herself into one.

“Okay, but, like, there’s a lot of reasons TO, right?” Michelle pressed, her chocolate hands expertly kneading Jelena’s boobs. Checking for tumors or something. “Here, lets flip to numbers one through twelve.”

“SEX!” the screen read, in the same brain-melting pink font, filling the entire room.

The girls moaned, involuntarily. Two of them shivered, the gas, the drugs, and the subliminals adding up to a pleasant hands-free orgasm.

“Sex is SO much fun, and SO good for your health,” Ally said, her hands occupied with Carmen’s chest. Carmen, a no-nonsense HR manager, was squealing as her mammaries were examined. “Orgasms help clean out all those unhealthy thoughts clogging your brain-arteries, and make it so you can’t be anxious, or sad, or smart! Right, Michelle?”

“A healthy girl should have at least ten orgasms a day,” Michelle said, nodding. “And at least five of those should be from energetic, penetrative sex.” She finally let go of Jelena’s chest. Jelena sat in her chair, chest heaving. She couldn’t seem to make a move to put her shirt back on, but then, neither was anyone else. Linda was giving herself a breast-exam now, which seemed wise.

“But don’t neglect your mouth or asshole,” Ally warned. “Work all your holes! But especially because—next slide—”

It read “CHILDBIRTH IS GOOD FOR YOU!”

“No, no,” Jelena said. No, that wasn’t right. Forget all the abstract reasoning about the planet’s carrying capacity. Childbirth was—far from safe. An infant’s entire skull passed through the hips. It was bloody business. Or—was it? Didn’t she have some memory, relating to this? Confused, she still managed to rise, slurping the rest of her cummy-white ice cream.

“I think I have a—meeting. I gotta go meet—” Jelena said. It was her turn to try and stand, despite how close she was to cumming. Get those big, child-bearing hips up...

“Ooh, impressive!” Ally said. It was impressive, given how hardcore the session was—gas, subliminals, pills, etc. etc. It would’ve been less invasive if they’d stuck a big needle in Jelena’s butt, and pumped her bloodstream full of pregnancy hormones. Which had actually happened a few days ago.Jelena tried to move towards the door. Her pussy was gushing wet. She should go enjoy some healthy sexual activity. No, she should.. go home, and read a book. A baby book. No...

Michelle took her gently by the shoulders. “No, no, no,” Jelena said. Why was she protesting? Right—this was all wrong. She was a woman of means and intelligence. Not some receptacle for sperm, an oven for buns. The next slide clicked over.

“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE PREGNANT!” it read.

“I was scared of having babies too, once,” Michelle said, sympathetic. “But don’t worry, we can help with that! Ally, should we give her the special exercise?”

“Ooh, yes, lets!” Ally gushed, clapping her hands. Her boobs bounced up and down. No one else seemed to react—they were all rapt, staring at the screen. At their own future. It told them that a healthy girl, properly motivated, could have upwards of fifteen children.

Jelena was resettled in her chair, and handed more ice cream. Michelle unsnapped Jelena’s skirt, but left it on her—just keeping it loose. “This will make your hips nice and wide,” she said. “You might feel a tug, but that’s just your ligaments getting loose and your bones reshaping, okay? It should feel just fine.”

Her—what? But then the tubby girl was kneeling, between her legs, and aiming her fist up at her pussy. Jelena scooched her thighs apart, disbelieving. Surely she wasn’t going to—this wasn’t—but then a finger, and two fingers, and an entire fist was up her slit, and then farther. Jelena joined the chorus of moaning girls. How was this—happening? Was this like a mammogram for her pussy?

“Okay, I’m gonna push on your left hip, and then your right hip. You’re gonna have the BEST birth canal, after this!” Michelle said, wrist-deep in Jelena. She put her other hand on the gasping girl’s butt, and pushed.

Under the severe influence of many chemicals, Jelena’s entire body was extraordinarily malleable, and wanted to be extremely feminine. It also really wanted to cum.

So she did.

“And... there!” Michelle said, repeating the same process on the right. “You can practically squirt the tykes out, now! Who’s next?”

No one put their hands up. They were all staring at the next slide, an instruction on the medicinal properties of being pumped full of cum. Michelle selected Linda as the next one to work on, at random. Jelena, by chance, did the luckiest thing she could’ve done, which was to pass out, and miss the next thirty minutes of concentrated babybrainwashing, plus a bit where Ally and Michelle licked each other out.

They didn’t make it all the way through the slideshow, to the one reason not to have a baby.

They never did.

“You okay?” A beard filled her vision.

It had been a long time since Jelena had smelled man-musk. Although she’d been heavily drugged and conditioned to focus on it, all the synapses and other receptors weren’t quite firing. So she had a moment to just register—Seth—without immediately imprinting.

He had big brown eyes full of real concern, and he gently tugged on her upper arm. “Aren’t we... neighbors?” he said.

“Neighbors. Yes. Yes! You’re Seth,” Jelena said, returning to consciousness. She was alone in the conference room, and her clothes were fairly intact. While her skirt was unsnapped it was still basically on her hips, because her hips had gotten much bigger. Her tits, however, were on display, rounded out and disconcertingly large. “I rented to you, sort of.”

“You’re my sort-of landlord,” Seth said. He put his hands on his hips, thought about it, and then belatedly moved to help her up. “How was the health class? I’m supposed to be cleaning up the A/V but I guess it’s... gone?”

Jelena had saved herself by falling unconscious.

Every other girl in the room had been walked out, obediently, by the two randy nurses, and delivered giggling and reprogrammed to the executive offices. Even then Linda was on her third dick of the afternoon, bent, like most of them, over the top of the big glass conference table in the C-suite. All the girls were using their newly instilled ability to milk a cock, and Ally and Michelle had stuck around to make sure they didn’t spill a drop of seed. To their joy, despite getting filled, and refilled, by a bunch of dicks, not a single female employee had dripped onto the floor. The VP of Marketing had impregnated three of them.

The slideshow equipment had gone with Ally, who had it displayed in the top floor conference room. A little extra incentive for the new baby makers, and it had all sorts of fun effects on the men. Gave them erections that only fertile cunts could drain.

“I THINK this is melted ice cream,” Seth said, wrinkling his nose, and examining all the chairs. Each and every one had a gooey drip in it. A fully transformed Calving male would recognize the scent and feel of fertile pussy juice, but Seth was not yet. Although it was getting him pleasantly hard.

Jelena tried to pull herself together. Something—bad—had happened, hadn’t it? No—her brain was sure it was actually good. She’d learned a lot about herself, and the inevitability of being a fertile, horny young woman, and also she’d gotten exposed to a lot of fun chemicals. But the sheer dopamine joy was suspicious, deeply at odds with her past self, and gave her some room to push back.

“Can you—do you think something’s... off?” Jelena said. She giggled, and tried to stifle it.

“What do you mean?” Seth said, to his topless coworker with blush-red cheeks. He was being coy. He’d been reading some stuff, on the internet. But he didn’t want to just trample on a girl, mansplaining about how she was turning into a weak-kneed whore.

“I mean...” she probably needed to do something about how her tits were kind of out, but Jelena felt like this was important. It was unclear to her whether overpopulation was a pressing issue, or whether she needed to get her hot needy womb filled up with semen. It was one of those, but which? Her head throbbed, temporarily. Each beat was the feeling of unhappy, sad thoughts flitting away forever. She tried to synthesize old and new beliefs. “Do you think maybe men are bad because of wars, but good because of sex?”

“Umm, what?” Seth said. He furrowed his brow at her, adorably. Jelena found a moment of clarity from how stupid she sounded. Even her voice had a dumb girl lilt to it that was definitely not her. She’d screamed at the police a month ago, hadn’t she? She opened her mouth to say something intelligent, like “lets get the fuck out of here,” when she made the mistake of taking a step.

Her new hips, wide baby-bearing hips capped with a still-growing ass, hadn’t at all synced up with her soggy brain. Her center of gravity was a foot away from where it used to be. Jelena fell forwards. Of course she was, she chided herself, while falling. She was just a girl. Athletic pursuits, like walking, were for men. She was there for—for—

Seth caught her in his big, burly arms. She sniffed, and took a breath, and drank in a heady tonic of male scent. All her new receptors and motivations and mating-crazy new needs spun up. Jelena looked up, and up, into his eyes, and this time she saw Seth clearly.

This man was going to give her his baby.

“Oooooooh,” Jelena said. She struggled in vain against the complete certainty of it. All her education and prior background were helpless. He had such nice brown eyes. And she was—she was—a girl, just a silly girl, who needed to spread her legs for him. It was all she could do. And it would be very healthy for her, which made it feminist. There was nothing feminine like getting knocked up.

On Tuesday, Jelena plotted to get her fellow building residents very, very pregnant.

She didn’t recall the remainder of Monday, after her panty-dropping, mind-melting inhalation of Seth’s potent male hormones. In reality she’d entered a version of a bimbo fugue state, one where the person she was becoming, a dumb preggo slut, got a trial run of her body. She’d taken her stupid self to a baby supply store and spent over two thousand dollars of money she really didn’t have. It had taken hours, because the store was overflowing with customers, other Phase 7 converts feeling an aching need between their legs.

She’d woken up with a maternal hangover, with a half-built crib in the bedroom, and with a much more purpose-built body.

Jelena was becoming a Baby Factory.

It was close to the default, as Calving went, but not quite. Yes, every Calving girl had big milky tits, hips that could accommodate one to three infants, and an overall hourglass figure that dripped femininity. But for a few special, lucky women, fertility was an overriding pursuit. Already Jelena could smell a girl’s cycle, not just her own, all the better to expertly guide local men into active insemination. She would actually run warmer than other girls, all the time, a pre-fever slightly more conducive to impregnation. And, of course, she was in heat. Sex wasn’t just fun. It was a way of life. She was a breeder.

She woke up already moaning, and with her body heavily prepared for her future role. In the future, Jelena would find a number of modifications had been made to aid her factory-level breeding role. Baby poop would always smell like the sweetest of flowers. She would be able to nurse, without stopping or drinking water, for days at a time. She even had a slightly more muscular build, to push strollers and hold children. And although she was getting dumb, really dumb, breeders scored just a scooch higher on the Calving Standardized Girl Intelligence Chart, or CSGIC. Raising dozens of kids demanded a little brainpower, and Calving grudgingly provided it. She would score at a .03.

Confused, gassed and drudged, she was halfway through preparing a bottle when her brain snapped into partial action. There was a knock at the door.

On the other side was another very breedable girl.

“Can I help with any cleaning?” Bailey asked, hopefully.

Her scent reached Jelena first, just after the sight of her. Fertile, this girl was fertile. For a long time big bountiful tits had been the signifier of receptiveness, harkening to milkmaids in the alps, reminiscent of cows. But way back in the human ID was the lurking knowledge that a really big ass, just a really huge butt with swinging, doorframe-knocking hips, was the actual guarantee. The baby had to slide out to get fed. First things first.

“Come in!” Jelena said.

She heard herself babbling on about social justice, and excusing the mess, while her eyes assessed this girl for breeding purposes. She had real potential. While the scent of cleaning fluid and the rubber gloves were not ideal, the can-do attitude and willingness to get on her hands and knees were. And anyway, everything was nitpicking on top of Bailey’s big butt.

She needed to get the girl bred.

Or—no—Jelena shook herself. What was she—she barely knew this woman, why was she assessing her reproductive chances? And with WHO? “Sorry—what was I just saying for the past five to ten minutes?” Jelena said, with a rueful chuckle. Something about the mess. She turned unbelieving eyes on all the purchases—they were sprawled all across the floor. Fifty-six different onesies, each cuter than the last, a lot of bibs, a breast pump that looked like it could take on a herd of heifers, an entire fucking CRIB?

The Jelena that had, four days, ago, posted a devastating defense of birth control on multiple internet forums, was horrified.

Birth control.

Right, she was ON birth control, wasn’t she?

The recollection uncovered a vein of past memories that the slut drugs hadn’t yet managed to erase. Jelena, handing out free condoms on campus, and free stern looks to the fuckbois with particularly good looks. Seminars on the ongoing climate emergency, in particular how cow farts were destroying the ozone. She’d felt good about her life, hadn’t she?

She’d had a purpose that wasn’t just... reproduction. She was more than just an animal. An instinct-driven, rutting, breeding animal with no sexual self-control.

Her hips ached. Not only were they extra-wide now, ligaments much weakened, she would soon be worse at standing upright. Bending at the waist, or lying with her legs cocked, would be more comfortable.

“Just a second while I get—” she blurted, and swiveled on her outrageous hips. Still inexperienced with breeder hips, she knocked a number of plates onto the floor.

Bailey, on her hands and knees, froze.

“Bailey?” Jelena said, uncertain. She’d—frozen. And then, after a moment, resumed rhythmically scrubbing a dirty patch on the floor. But robotically, oddly. “Bailey, you okay?”

“Yes, miss!” Bailey said, in a cloying and bright tone. Her eyes were glassy.

“I don’t—I don’t think you’re okay,” Jelena said. She fought against the baby craze driving her hormones wild. Something was—off. Off and wrong, with her, with Bailey, with the entire world. Why could she rest both hands on her hips? And why was she gently rubbing Bailey’s oversized backside?

“You alright?” she said. “Bailey?”

“I’m a dirty slut, who lives to clean,” Bailey responded, in the same not-there tone. She didn’t react to Jelena touching her rear. And why was she? To do—what?

Jelena watched herself pull the girl’s panties down, and then slide her hand into her snatch. It was baffling behavior on her part, and terrible from a ‘consent’ perspective. And worst of all, why? Jelena didn’t understand until she withdrew a hand sticky and wet with Bailey’s pussy juice, and raised it to her nose.

She sniffed.

Right. Bailey was very fertile. She could smell it.

Jelena struggled to hold on to her sense of wrongness and concern during fitness class. But it was very hard. All the girls were looking oh-so-fertile. And that was even before Seth showed up.

It was alarming, how quickly she imagined them all swelling up into neatly bred bowling balls. Ateera had room for a trio in there, at least, and enough milk to not just feed a baby, but shower him. She in particular was so powerfully fecund, so swollen with feminine curves, it was surprising she wasn’t already knocked up. Every part of her called for it.

But the others did, as well. All of them, Julia and Bailey and Ateera and Elena and Kylie, all of them were ready. Designed for it, to settle their heels on the ground, grab on to something sturdy, and get ruthlessly bred. They could have babies together, nine months of knitting little booties and growing even bigger tits, becoming a big and happy family.

Including her.

No. Jelena tried to hold on to her disquiet, push it onto the others. She was a notch above the others, at least, who seemed to have no awareness at all that they were becoming big ovens for male seed. No one was even commenting on how their tits had gotten, at their dramatic, incredible growth. Ateera had gone from slight, shy girl to spilling-out fertility goddess. Elena didn’t even comment on the wet spots on everyone’s gym clothes, the all-too-pungent scent in the air.

Jelena fought to keep her head in the game—she was going to have to say something, do something, lead these women out of the nursery and into the streets. Yes, true, it was good for THEM to be submissive sluts for boys. And probably good for the earth, in some way. But not her. Never her.

If she could. Jelena had discovered that she’d flushed her birth control down the toilet, the previous night. While giggling, rubbing herself.

“Ladies,” Seth said, while doing pushups, respectfully. Very respectfully. And Jelena scooched her legs apart just like the rest of them. Felt her nipples swell like the others, her brain cool down into a welcome, receptive mode. He was shirtless, and even the first hint of musk gave her new marching orders. Breed! Reproduce!

And not just her. Why not all of them? Six little ladies, clutching rounding bellies. As a progressive, the diversity aspect of it appealed to her. They were from all over the world. And Seth deserved it. Men deserved it.

It would be so easy and fun to line all six of them up, in a breeding-friendly position, their butts high up in the air and their faces firmly planted into the floor. He could pick and choose. No doubt Seth had plenty of warm wrigglers stored up, chockful of precious genetic material. Jelena had no problem going last, at his preference. The important thing was to get that gooey, wonderful seed in her, swelling her up, reducing to a laughable fantasy her dreams of marching in Washington D.C. Like a dumb knocked-up slut had any business running for Congress!

It would be wonderful, wouldn’t it, her brain told her. Six girls together, becoming a family together? Jelena couldn’t hold back. She had to touch herself, watching Seth go through the motions on the yoga mat. She was far from the only one. Kylie was feverishly pushing her palm into her shorts, and Julia had both hands busy between her legs. Even Elena, technically helping with the workout, was very close to drooling.

“Gosh, what a great, if quiet, audience,” Seth said, glancing around. Jelena dove her fingers into her honeypot. It wasn’t enough. She needed a cock in her. No—she was not this wanton slut. She cared for the planet, not for her own aching biological clock. Even if her hips demanded a deposit, right that second...

When he was done she followed him out. The others were too overwhelmed by his presence to move, or, in Ateera’s case, having a tough time walking. But Jelena had hunter-seeker instincts when it came to men and their semen, and was capable of running a marathon, if there was a dick at the finish line. He was glorious in the late afternoon, body steaming from exertion, and also from the clouds of pheromones he now emitted, all the time.

“Hot work,” he said, easily accepting her. She got a magisterial nod. She leaned on the balcony next to him. She was trying to put a plan together, through the drifting pink clouds. He would have to do the right thing, for her. She was too slutty and dumb to stop herself from getting knocked up. But he was a man, and men were smart. Maybe she could talk him into wearing a condom, if she could just remember what they looked like...

He stared at her, and Jelena arched her hips, set her feet, and did a number of other small moves to get herself ready for enthusiastic breeding. Her pussy dripped. Her rebellion was a tiny pilot light in the enormous oven of her mind, and it was barely clicking.

“Hey, so, you girls alright with this?” he said.

“Alright with—” Jelena had to swallow. Her mouth was full of spit. “—with what?”

“Well, I guess all the enormous amount of changes?” Seth said. “Ever since Terri moved in you’ve all gotten these huge tits and asses. I guess part of the whole Calving thing that people are talking about? You’ve noticed, right? You’ve got much bigger breasts now? Sorry if I’m mansplaining!”

She—Jelena looked down—had big boobs?

They were huge.

Jelena panicked, and dropped her stance, holding one hand over them. “Oh, you hadn’t noticed?” Seth said. “Okay, sorry to bring it up. Don’t get me wrong, they’re real nice, the boobs and the butts. I thought maybe you gals were like, yes please, double me up on titties.”

She—had to get her head in the game. “Uh—no—” Jelena said. Noticing her concern, Seth put a calming hand on the small of her back, rubbing gently. It released a welcome flood of calming endorphins. “No, I guess—from the girl’s perspective, its sort of a whirlwind. Thanks so much for asking, SIR!”

“Yeah, I saw that on reddit,” Seth said, nodding. “Said it’s a whole lot the girls are going through, getting real big butts and I guess getting really dumb and horny. Said I needed to be there for them. Be supportive. But how, you know? Like your neighbor is getting made over into a really hot bimbo, do you get her a card? Or flowers or something? What’s the right thing for a man to do?”

They paused, companionably, Seth watching the sunset and Jelena processing her makeover into a fuck toy. Pussy juice was even running down her leg. Both legs.

“Make the best of it, I suppose,” Seth said. “There sure is a lot of you girls, though. Especially Ateera.”

“Make a family of it,” Jelena mumbled.

Their eyes met. Seth’s hand, still on her back, made a move down her ass. To where she was wet and juicy and overwhelmingly needy. It wasn’t his fault—she’d given him something to think about, and his hands were now free to roam. Jelena fought the desire to lean into it, let him admire how wet she was. He’d casually revealed the fact that they were all getting made into—bimbo sluts. She needed to act. Be an activist. His hand felt so good, pressing her sodden scrap of shorts into her slit.

“A family. Make a family of it,” Seth said, eyes unfocused. He squeezed. Jelena whimpered. She needed this. There was no fighting it. She set her feet once again, clenched against his finger—

“Hey,” Seth said. “What was your name, again?”

The spell broke. He didn’t even know her name, and he was going to knock her up?

Jelena salvaged some dregs of self-regard, some remaining self-respect.

“It’s Jelena,” she said. “And, yes. I did know about all this. And its hard, thanks for asking. Hard like you. You know, we aren’t exactly asked if we LIKE being turned into sex toys for men, right? We just have to deal with having a juicy pussy that really wants a nice cock in it, and big fat tits, and a nice squeezable butt, and being on display for men, all the time. You didn’t even ASK if you could put three fingers in my cunt, did you? I didn’t say take them out!”

Startled, Seth pulled them out, and then pushed them back in. Jelena couldn’t stifle a long, tortured moan.

“Oh, shucks. So what should I do?” Seth said, abashed, rubbing hard against her clit. “Shoot, I didn’t even think—although YOU were the one to say a family—”

“We’ll—organize,” Jelena panted, knuckles gripping the balcony. “I’m gonna—gonna—oh gooooddddd. I’m gonna confront Terri right now. You get the girls rounded up. Or whatever, you’re a man, you can do what you want. Oh god that feels so good Daddy. And then later you’ll knock us all up, mkay?”

Seth stopped, and withdrew his hand. Her future man was being so wonderful, and she felt so bad about speaking harshly to him, even if it was about a massive conspiracy against them. She watched him stick his fingers into his mouth, and enjoy the taste of her. Her thighs quaked.

“Good plan,” Seth said. “I’m really glad we had this talk. Shoot, I had no idea! I guess it must be hard for you, growing nice tits like that, huh? Getting all dumb? Well, my door is always open, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Jelena sighed.

“Terri, what you’re doing to us, it has to stop I guess?” Jelena said.

Terri was in her room, her legs up on the top of the couch, idly watching porn and rubbing her belly. She wore what was, for her, casual clothes—an american flag top and a pair of shorts that dated all the way back to five or six or eight kids ago. Over the years it had gotten stiff with breast milk and cum, but she wore it whenever she felt—uncertain.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here, if I’m being super fuckin honest,” Terri said. Her makeup wasn’t even great. Just lipstick and concealer and mascara and blush and toner. She hadn’t been fucked in hours. “Come have a seat.”

They plopped next to each other, filling the couch entirely with two plump asses. Jelena had changed into confrontation clothes. A pair of black dress pants that no longer made it all the way up her hips, showing off her pink panties, and squeezing painfully into the dangerous curves of her butt. A blouse with just the top and bottom button done, and even those were at risk. Professional clothes.

“I know you’re making us all into different types of sex dolls,” Jelena said. “And we’re all supposed to be eager baby making bimbos lined up in a row, pussies cream-pied. And I think that’s bad for the planet. We’re not the only ones who live on it.”

“Yeah, blah blah, get it out,” Terri said. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch. Really, go ahead.”

It was taking all of Jelena’s remaining mental acuity to stick with the subject, and the porn playing on TV wasn’t helping. It was some sort of drama, well-lit and theatrical, but all the girls had bodies like—like hers—and most of them were pregnant. And while it seemed to have plot points, they were generally getting fucked by muscular studs during the dialogue.

“Um. Like. What about the—pandas? And the deer? A tidal wave of adorable babies is gonna be so bad for the planet, we’re already at carrying capacity...” she wanted to carry herself, so badly. “...and also I think its not very feminist? Like, you could’ve ASKED if I wanted to be a super sexy slut like this.”

“Oh, Pastor Flynn already thought of all that,” Terri said, dismissively. “He said we’re mostly gonna stop driving cars and doing fast fashion and all that junk. We won’t even need cows because we drink each other’s titty milk. He said our—what was it—carbon footprint or something will be, like. Nothing.

The image of it burst in Jelena’s head.

She’d wake up next to her adoring husband, and drinking a delicious protein shake out of his cock. Then she’d fill up his breakfast cereal from her tits, and sit down to the wonderful business of nursing and nursing. They wouldn’t bother with a car, because the only place to drive was inside each other. They’d grow crops out back, and wear scraps for clothes, when they bothered.

All told they’d have the climate impact of a pair of swans.

And then add another five girls to the bed...

What was the color of pink and green, mixed together? She tried to combine them, and the mental effort knocked her senseless.

But it was a very important senseless. Calving had done its thing. By shutting off virtually every brain cell, what was left would flicker, like a beacon. A gentle guiding light. She could be an environmentalist of sorts, even if she forgot the word. No resource-intensive single-family home. A seven or eight family home would be much more efficient. All the animals in the wilderness would be left alone, because all the humans would be too busy having sex to bother them. She’d wear natural fibers. No, no fibers at all. Just her wobbling, pregnant self...

When she came to Terri was idly rubbing between Jelena’s legs.

The drama had progressed, on screen. One of the characters was now several months more pregnant. Jelena felt ice in her veins. How long had she been out?

“Shh, this is the good part,” Terri said, rapt on the show. “We get to see the whole delivery. Must’ve been sweeps week.”

Terri gave her pussy another greasy squeeze, and then stuck her fingers in Jelena’s mouth.

“You Breeder girls taste. The. Best. Don’t you think?” Terri said. She stood up. Jelena had to agree with her. Her pussy tasted like ice cream.

“Come on. I gotta head out in a few days and you gotta know how to do all the stuff I’ve been doing. You’re gonna be the smart one, if it makes you feel better.”

The fridge was full-to-bursting with supplements and drugs and chemicals and hormones, all of them in farm-friendly packaging. Even Jelena, panting and fighting with every breath, couldn’t deny it. It was all in brown cardboard and paper packaging, not a drop of plastic around.

“The milk is kind of all-purpose grow stuff, makes you big and hot and horny. Kinda slow-acting. I mean, it’s breast milk, you’re supposed to drink a lot of it, all the time. Makes your hair glossy too. All the proteins in the second shelf are for like, big-girl big-tits time. Like you want to put on two cup sizes, throw a barbeque. Every burger is like, a new bra size. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jelena said. Wasn’t she there to—yell at Terri, or something? She was stuck on how environmentally friendly it all really was. It was a climate-conscious bimbofication conspiracy.

“Pills and potions on this side,” Terri indicated a number of canisters. “They pretty much all do the same thing. Stupid and dumb. I just use them however I feel like. Oh, but this one makes men have really big cocks, don’t forget which one that is.”

“Big cocks, alright,” Jelena said. Was she AGREEING to help this woman, who had turned them all into hyper-sluts? No. She was going to... say no.

“You yourself—your pussy juice will make any man really calm and chill. And it tastes great. And its a—shoot, I always forget this word—aphro—aphro dumb deasily dack or something. Plus your spit tastes like cherries and you are THIS. CLOSE. to lactating. Come on, lets go outside.”

It was getting late. Terri took two steps, and stopped. She turned her large wobbly self around. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job with all of you,” she said. “I know its not working out.”

“We all have COW TITS,” Jelena said. She tried to pinch herself—she had so much more body to pinch—and failed. “what are you—you FAILED?”

“None of you have had sex,” Terri said. She waved at Brood Lane. “Not a single one. And that’s a little crazy, my bimbo baby. I’ve pumped you up with so many horny drugs you should be grinding on bedposts. I thought you were gonna all drag men home and make this into a bunch of families. And not a single one of you has put dick in your pussies. Not even you, and that’s your whole life now. What have I done wrong, you know?”

“Its not my whole—life—” Jelena couldn’t finish the sentence. No doubt it was the hypnotic conditioning, but she was almost out of things to say. And wouldn’t it be better, when she stopped arguing, every fucking time? When she realized that having a girl body with a girl reproductive system wasn’t a problem for saving the world?

It was the key to it.

Jelena clamped down on the thought before it could take root. She was going to help the environment. She WAS. She conscientiously picked up four discarded BBQ flyers, and the fitness class one, and dumped it in the courtyard trash bag, with one of Julia’s discarded cigarettes. She stomped after the disappointed bimbo boss. “You could just STOP all this, you know. We don’t have to—”

“Oh, I only do fun resistance times every other year,” Terri said, shaking her head. “This is the cable box. The junction thing there pumps in three hundred and four channels of Calving programming. Don’t listen to the music ones too much if you have to use your brain for any reason. Oh. And there’s something up with the cooking shows, it makes girls really, really stupid. Make sure to lick the doorknobs a lot, or rub pussy juice on them. Annnnnnd one last thing, the water.”

They were down in the basement, in the boiler room. Her body was so close to taking over, now that it had seen a path forwards. An ecologically-sound bimbohood, so in tune with the earth that she never wore shoes. She was an animal. An animal. The problem was trying to be more than an animal, driving cars and going to protest marches and wearing clothes.

“Every shower you take makes you into more of a stupid breeding slut,” Terri said. She indicated a bunch of chemicals. “Seriously, I can’t believe you girls don’t run out and fuck joggers after one of these showers. Hopefully you’re smarter than me. I don’t know what to do with you gals.”

“Is there like, an—” Jelena searched around for the word. There, it was still there. “Antidote?”

Terri, for the first time, seemed amused. “To being a GIRL? Nuh-uh. You went through puberty again, that’s all. This is you. You always had a pussy and ovaries and all that fun stuff. Now you just have more of it. There’s no cure for nice big titties. Now, make sure the water is on, this stuff here is SUPPOSED to make girls get out and hunt for dick. Maybe I fucked up the dosage.”

Rebellion.

She had to rebel.

It was still part of her, as much as her head swirled with baby rattles and cribs and high-chairs. “A big penis!” Jelena shouted, pointing at the garage wall. Terri swirled around, eager.

When she did, Jelena turned as many knobs and valves as she could, on the plumbing, to off. It had to help. It just had to.

On Wednesday, Jelena had sex with seven firefighters.

She’d been unable to fall asleep. While most of the other girls in the building had peacefully dozed away their brains, their personal histories, and their sense of shame, Jelena could still remember doing a lot of different things at a past point in her life. Gauzy memories, true, infused now with a new sense of how she could’ve been more of a slut. There’d been a lot of tall men in that protest march, men with great genetics, who she could’ve cozily fucked after they were both arrested. Regretful thoughts about how much time she’d spent on the internet, not even masturbating on camera, but writing detailed paragraph after paragraph about her personal political beliefs. UGH.

And, now, even now, she was still trying to tell herself that she was better off single and alone. That it was all a big conspiracy to make her barefoot in the kitchen, popping out kids, and bending over for another one. That her dramatically widened hips, perfectly framing her pussy, were a bad thing. Despite how GOOD they felt when she thrust her fist up inside of her. Her entire first! How was that bad for the planet?

At that point, tossing and turning in bed, dripping onto the sheets, Jelena smelled smoke.

Throwing open her front door, she saw an orange ripple of fire and flame burping out of Terri’s front door. It was already full engulfed.

If she’d been a little smarter, she might’ve felt a little guilt about shutting off the water valves.

Immediately she knew that she needed men to help her.

“I need your hot guys!” she yelled, at 911. “Your—the really hot guys! The hot guys! There’s a fire!”

The 911 operator took this in calmly. He was staffing the night shift, and getting his dick nuzzled by the other 911 operator, who was spending more and more time with his dick in her mouth.

“You mean firefighters, right?” he said.

“Yes!” Jelena yelled back, and hung up. She dashed outside, to Seth’s apartment, and hammered on it with both hands. She was naked from the waist down. Seth, to his credit, opened the door, saw her, saw the flames, and only spent a second flicking his eyes back to her few remaining pubes. His beard glowed black in the reflected flames.

“I’ll get Ateera,” he told her, and rushed off, with no regard for his personal safety.

The firefighters arrived just several minutes later. Jelena had found a pair of panties that, with effort, could slightly cover her mound. She held the gate open for the men as they strode in, hoses at the ready, with deliberate and well-trained glances around. Two dove into the tempest inside of Terri’s apartment, to check for occupants.

Jelena barely got back inside her apartment before the realization hit her.

She was just a girl.

When the emergency hit she’d looked for men. Her, despite all her big talk and long marches. She’d called for men and banged on doors for men and held the gate open for men. They’d saved Ateera’s life and searched the burning room and put out the big scary fire.

That was their job.

Her job was to make their babies.

Moaning, she slid off her overstretched panties. She’d fought who she was for too long. She had breasts, and hips, and a uterus, and a pussy. She was made to have boys stick it in her when they felt like. Not only that, she inspired them to. They came when she called. They were her whole world, and she had to save them.

She made herself ready.

“Miss, you’re the—miss?” two firefighters, doing room checks, walked in on her, ass pointing up at the door. She gave them an apologetic look, for not already squeezing their dicks dry. Her future finally stretched out in front of her. She was going to make the world a better place, by turning dicks into sucked dicks, by making more of these wonderful men, by squeezing them with her pussy until they came. “Miss, we—the fire—we—”

The firemen had just huffed a lot of the fumes from a bimboizer’s apartment going up in flames. In chemical terms it was like a fireworks factory blowing up.

With each pulse of their hearts, dozens of enzymes were flooding their systems, reminding them that they were men, that they deserved this for working so hard.

A little post-fire trim.

Jelena gave her hips a wiggle.

“Breed me?” she said, and blew them a kiss.

It was hard for firemen to get out of fully-protective gear quickly. But they managed. While one was angling his cock at her slit, the other swung around and shoved a large, uncut dick at her mouth. Jelena already had her mouth open, but held herself back briefly.

“Cum in my pussy, okay?” she told him, very seriously. “Not my mouth. Pussy.”

Still covered in smoke, the first lucky fireman pumped into her. His length filled her life up, and the first pump confirmed what a fool she’d been. She’d been so silly to fight her own body, to pretend she knew better than her own hormones. Pregnancy wasn’t just inevitable. It was the best.

The first man came quickly. Jelena was relentless about squeezing him, and then shoved her oversized butt backwards while he grunted a load into her. The other man was panting, too, so she popped her mouth free, and directed him with a glance to get ready to take his turn. If the man had any hesitation about thrusting into a well-creamed pussy, white with his coworker’s cum, he didn’t show it. He pushed hard.

Jelena was dizzy. The kind of reprogramming she was currently experiencing was best at night, when the smarter areas of her brain could be quietly shut down. Undergoing it mid-sex was very difficult. It was lucky she was in the strong, capable hands of a firefighter, who grabbed her unsteady hips and rammed back and forth. And lucky also that she had the most grabbable, fuckable hips in the building, handlebars for breeding, designed so that men could efficiently slide her back and forth on their cocks.

It was a huge relief for Jelena, who could concentrate, if that was the word, on becoming a better, sluttier, stupider breeding bitch. Whole areas of her past experiences were turning into nursery-oriented mommy centers. Her college degree going from Linguistics to suckling.

But not all of it. She realized, if that was the word, that a lot of her past life was still of use, and could be retained. She was going to organize orgies, schedule breeding, monitor the fertile windows of as many girls as possible. With her practical experience and pragmatic attitude she could get whole neighborhoods knocked up, dumb, and pregnant. Calving child-rearing was communal, after all. Every pussy was communal, too.

Overwhelmed, she didn’t have the energy to squeeze down on the second man filling her up. But she was a superb fuck anyway, and the man was ready to burst. Besides, her pussy was greased with the first guy’s sperm, and she made no complaints about getting roughly jackhammered on his dick. He added a second batch, and then dropped her.

Jelena didn’t notice. In her head were just enough remaining brain cells to build a passable crib, if the instructions were just pictures.

The next five men hadn’t gotten the same direct dose of burnt, potent chemicals. But Jelena dealt with that. As soon as the embers were a little cool, and she’d gotten her breath back, she ventured in to the ashen hulk of Terri’s apartment. Everything left out had been charred, but the fridge was untouched, and, even better, the vanity behind the bathroom mirror was intact. Inside the latter was a collection of perfumes, sprays, pill bottles, and other goodies. Jelena doused herself with them, and examined herself in the smoke-dusty mirror.

She could hardly even see herself anymore, the way she was. With only the big brown boobs, her nipples naturally sticking out a bit, to each side. She didn’t have the deeply plush lips of her sisters in the building, but she did her best with lipstick, and poured on the mascara. The perfume mixed with the smoke to make her smell, she hoped, like sex itself to horny firefighters.

In the mirror she saw—herself, rounded out, gloriously pregnant. Herself as she should be, as her body wanted her to be. Rounded-out belly and all. She practiced holding her tummy up with both hands, and felt herself glowing.

It was going to be so rewarding.

Terri had left an old tube dress of hers over the side of the shower. Jelena slid into it—it was loose, on her, but basically slutty. Old stains were crusted over on the butt. She wore it outside to thank the firefighters for their efforts to save the building, dripping with pheromones, pussy squeezed tightly shut to keep anything from dripping out.

The firefighters in their blue shirts and yellow pants eyed her, hungry, and she decided on which would be third, and which would be seventh.

The important thing was to get so much firefighter cum in her that the baby slid out wearing a red helmet. And after that the rest of her life would be pretty straightforward.

On Thursday, Jelena felt regret.

Not about giving herself over to being a knocked-up slut. She felt really good about that.

But the first time, she felt, should’ve been with Seth.

That had been the plan her bimboizing programming had been leading up to. A scenario where she threw away her prior life, her education, her dignity, and most of her personality, but gained a really hot guy as a partner and a newfound purpose in raising his children.

That plan had gotten tossed when seven sexy firefighters strode into her life. Turning girls into eager fuck dolls was about flexibility, and there was just no way to turn that kind of opportunity down, even if it wasn’t as narratively satisfying. Seven strong cocks, turning her into a dripping, silly mess, would just have to substitute for that kind of arc.

She dressed MILF without even considering it. Large hoop earrings, blue eyeshadow, and blush all over her cheekbones. Jelena didn’t own any tiger print, but she did own basic black leggings, which ripped and tore as they made their way over her hip bones. It bothered her not at all, the big runs in the fabric near her ass and thighs. She added a gold necklace and a way too tight printed blouse. The look said “I drive a minivan, and I fuck.” She felt a warm glow.

It would have to do, for her apology outfit, to Seth.

“It should’ve been you,” she practiced, clonking in high heels to his door. “It should’ve been your cum in me, you should’ve been squirting those big ropes in my pussy, making me into your perfect baby mommy. You can have the next six, and I promise the next batch will be triplets.”

It sounded rehearsed, but it would have to do.

In the morning Jelena had methodically deleted all her social media accounts and resigned from the half-dozen organizations she was a part of.

“I’ve been turned into a big breeding bimbo by a bunch of chemicals,” she explained, in the body of the e-mail, attaching a few pics of her creamy pussy, for evidence. It was a turning point in her life, but she felt good about it. All girls needed to be mommies eventually. And in time, maybe she could show up, with a laced batch of cupcakes, and teach a bunch of too-skinny activist girls that they could do a lot of good social work with their mouths and cunts.

“I’m sorry about the many firefighters, please nut in me,” Jelena tried out. There, that sounded better. She reached Seth’s door, knocked, and fidgeted with her hair. Even that had gone motherly, adding curls and volume. Firefighter jizz was still leaking out of her.

She spaced out for ten minutes, thinking about wallpaper for the nursery. And then opened the door.

Seth was getting his bone on, vigorously fucking the shit out of Elena, from behind. The girl had an incredible figure, now, a perfect blend of soft and hard. She was definitely using a ton of muscles to good effect, thrusting herself wanton onto Seth’s pole.

The new commands in Jelena switched on. She knew exactly what to do. She was born to organize.

“You’re gonna cum in her, right?” she said, kneeling her way over to the twosome. Jelena put her heavily made-up face right next to Seth’s crotch. Any closer and she’d lose her tongue, stuck between a vigorously pistoning dick and a taut rear end. Specks of cum flew off his cock. From the scent, it was clear Elena was ready to get pregnant. “Ooh you really need to cum in her. Daddy.”

Daddy did the intended thing, and Seth started to pump Elena full of hot cum. Jelena admired the tension in his oversized balls. There was enough cum in there for a town. Which made her next activity obvious.

“Elena, pull off, careful,” she instructed. “Cross your legs and keep your hips elevated. We want all those wrigglers to do their work. Seth, you’ve still got lots of juice, don’t you?” She couldn’t resist putting her tongue out for a lick. She swirled it around his cockhead. “Mmmmm.”

“Lots,” Seth growled.

Jelena stood up. “I’ll be right back!” she said, brightly. And returned within minutes, Kylie whimpering and failing to resist behind her.

“I don’t want to get pregnant!” the little lithsome brat said. Her outfit didn’t make her case—she wore bright yellow shorts and a polka dot top, no bra, no panties, and smelled as wonderfully fuckable as Elena. Elena, who had diligently put her legs up on the wall. “I’m not one of you stupid sluts!”

Jelena yanked down her wet shorts and positioned her for breeding—doggy-style, her ass in the air. Missionary was fine, but deep penetration was, she felt, the key to insemination. Kylie’s whining and carrying on lasted until she was penetrated by Seth’s dick, at which point it all dissolved into impassioned moans.

Two down, Jelena thought. As one of the smarter bimbos, she didn’t have to count on her fingers, at least not until there was three.

To reward herself, she made herself number three. “Watch me, CAREFULLY,” she told the other two sluts, although they were barely able to breathe, unaided. Both of them had dripped far too much precious cum out of themselves. Kylie especially, rubbing herself afterwards, was making a mess.

Jelena didn’t spill a drop.

She had no way of knowing, and would never know, but the come-from-behind winner to wriggle into her drifting egg was Seth. She HAD been on birth control, after all, and the last vestiges of hormonal control weren’t pissed out of her system until late. And they were good at fighting fires, not impregnation.

Not that it mattered—she was going to have multitudes of children, from many different men. But it was nice.

She left to get the next girl. Whichever one she could find. And after that, either Bailey or Julia or they’d roll in Ateera. And then she’d write their due dates on the calendar, and get on with resetting all the chemical sprays and bimboizing TV show feeds, and all that other fun stuff. Turn the water back on. And refill all the milk jugs, with her and Ateera’s tits. And an afternoon fuck session with Seth, just in case the first one missed an ovum. And get Julia to cook a lot of healthy food, liberally seasoned with Terri’s stash, so they’d all grow big and round. And then...

It all stretched out in front of her. Jelena rubbed her tummy. The baby was going to be lucky to have such a good organizer for a Mom, she thought.