My Need to Breed

When a woman's need to breed rises above all else.

When a woman's body desires to meld with life

and there's nothing that she can do about it.

Breeding and growing suety become synonymous.

The lines between fertile and desire and fleshy fade.

That was me.

Amelia's desire to be bred becomes everything. She and her husband are willing to try anything to inseminate her.

When a new doctor and her neighbors become involved... Like an outrageous soap opera...

Her world changes forever.

Excerpts from the story...

"How long has this been going on?"

"A few weeks. But it's okay. Doctor Johnson has been here several times, watching over you."

"Exactly, how long have I been out," I started to demand and saw Tara preparing a hypodermic needle.

But Mitsy shook her head, no and the needle was set down.

"How long?" I demanded as my voice began to rise.

I saw Mitsy nod to Tara and she injected something into an I-V that I hadn't noticed before. Seconds later, a wave of calm swept through me as my anger dissipated.

But, she seemed oblivious to what I was saying and held out a piece of her famous chocolate cake saying, "While you're thinking about everything, why don't you nibble on this?"

So, I took her damn cake and took a bite.

Meanwhile, Tara had removed the I-V from the back of my hand and then, excused herself to go home and tend to her own children.

The cake was shear heaven. I couldn't stop eating it. When the plate was empty, I set it down and within seconds, Mitsy replaced it with another piece.

"Odd," I thought, "My body wants to become a food magnet."

I pushed the cakes and hamburgers and what-have-you into my mouth as fast as I could with no care about my shape. After all, I was doing this for Matt and our future and the fun of it. I hoped he'd continue to like the newer larger me as much as I was beginning to like gaining.

Then one night, Matt said that the Doctor now wanted us to do the old California keys-in-the-hat game. My husband admitted that he had reservations about sharing me with other partners but apparently, it was good therapy.

The plan was that the men would toss their keys into a hat. Whatever keys Matt drew out, he would go to that house and that husband would come to my bed. I was to dress in something slinky and wait.

At ten, I put on my favorite nighty and crawled between the sheets. A little later, I heard a key in the lock and then saw a silhouette in my bedroom doorway.

"John?" I asked softly.

He was a large man, easily recognized.