I write pregnant, impregnation and lactation stories.  You can find more of my work at 

Preg Stories on SubscribeStar.adult

I really hope you enjoy.  Feedback, constructive feedback, is always welcome.



                                                                                                                     “Knocked Up At The Sci Fi Convention”

                                                                                                                                    Chapter One


 It is a common fallacy that beautiful women don’t go to Sci Fi and Comic conventions.  You check out any genre convention and you’ll find a lot of them.  And they’re there looking for one thing...nerds.  Now, maybe not the glasses taped together and pocket protector kind of nerds, those are the common portrayal in movies and television.   No, these nerds are gamers, collectors, cosplayers and the like.  I went to my first Sci Fi/Comic convention while in High School.  My very first convention, I met Sienna.  She was a long legged beauty in a very short Red Star Trek uniform.  We spent a lot of time together that weekend.  I even took her to my Junior Prom.  Even though we didn’t stay together long, this story is based, very loosely, on my time with her.
All participants in this story are fictional and over 18.  I hope you enjoy…
 
                                                   
 
 
This was not my first convention.  No, far from it.  I had seen my share of beautiful women in far-out cosplay costumes but she took the cake.  She was gorgeous.  Red hair, flawless skin and a great figure.  She was, by no means a stick figure.  She had some meat on her bones, but perfectly proportioned.  Just the way I like them.  She was walking across the stage in her barbarian costume.  You can tell she’d spent some time on it.  In the end, she didn’t win, but she put on a great show.  After the contest, I saw her sitting by herself at a table near the concession area.  I went over to introduce myself.
 
Hi, I said.  I’m Nick.  May I join you?  She looks up from her fruit smoothie and gives me a dejected smile.  Hi Nick, I’m Sienna.  You can sit down, but I may not be the best company right now.  I know, I told her.  I saw.  If it’s any consolation, I thought you were robbed.  You looked great up there.  She looked at me again.  I’ve been working for weeks on this costume.  I know, I replied, I can tell.  I’ve seen a ton of these contests and you really performed well up there.
 
Her mood brightened a bit at that and the tension relaxed.  We sat and talked for a while.  She was finally in a good enough mood to step away from the smoothie cup and take a walk.  So, she started, care to share some stories from your universe?  I smiled at that.  Oh, I’m a collector, I told her.  I come to these things to find new pieces for my collection.  Want to walk over to the dealers room and see what treasures we can find.  She agreed and off we went.
 
After a while of perusing the dealers room, we decided to grab a snack and find a place to sit down.  We enjoyed some conversation for a while.  In time, Sienna leaned over and whispered in my ear.  This costume may look great, she started, but it’s not really comfortable for the long haul.  Would you mind if we went up to my room so that I could change into something, she looked at me with a wry grin, a little more comfortable?  What, am I a fool?  Of course we can, I said.  We headed straight for the elevator and up to the sixth floor.
 
She touched the key card to the electric lock and in we went.  Since I lived locally, I had never seen the rooms in this place before.  Really nice, I must say.  I followed her as she walked across the room.  She was busy undoing her bustier as she walked.  Make yourself comfy.  I’ll be right back.  As she walked to the bathroom, she removed the bustier and tossed it on the bed.  All I could see as she disappeared in to the bathroom was her bare back, but it was sexy as hell.  I moved her bustier off the bed.  I know I was taking a lot for granted, but, somehow, I knew we were going to need the bed before long.
The water in the sink was running for a while.  I figured she was taking off her make-up or something.  I heard the water shut off and knew the time was now.  It was shit or get off the pot time.  I knew I had to have this woman no matter what.  As she came out of the bathroom, she had a towel up to her face drying it.  I grabbed her.  She was wearing a robe and slipped free of it and me.  She turned to me with venom in her eyes.
 
What the fuck are you doing, she screamed.  Isn’t this what you invited me up here for? I asked.  She returned with extreme anger.  I invited you up here because I thought you were a nice guy.  Guess I figured wrong.  I took a moment to look at her.  Nothing but bra and panties.  Beautiful huge titties overflowing in a size too small bra and a beautiful tuft of red hair peeking subtly out of here panties.  I had to have her.  Nothing was going to stop me.  I lunged for her.  She jumped on the bed.
 
Come on now.  I pleaded.  You know you want this as much as I do.  She looked at me again.  I don’t think anyone wants this as much as you do, was her reply.  I reached for her again.  She kicked at me.  You’d better leave now before I scream.  Are you kidding, I replied.  These walls are thick and everyone is down at the convention.  Get out now, she yelled.  Yeah, I don’t think so.
 
As quick as I could, I grabbed at an ankle.  I connected.  It took her by surprise.  I grabbed the other ankle and pulled forward.  She tumbled to the bed and I was on her.  She was kicking and screaming but is was able to pin her with my body and grab her wrists.  She struggled.  As she did, I could feel my dick get harder.  So could she.  She tried to wriggle out from under me.  No dice.  I had her now.  I lunged for her throat and started kissing her on the neck.  She got a wrist loose and tried to swing at me.  I caught her hand and pinned it under my knee.  With my free hand, I struggled to undo her bra.  Fortunately, it was a front hook and I’ve had a good amount of practice.  Her bra sprang open and one of her nipples was visible.  There was milk dripping from it.  An added bonus.
 
Ah, a lactating bimbo at that.  I said out loud.  Suddenly, she stopped fighting and started laughing.  I sat up straight, looking at her quizzically.  What? I asked.  She looked at me with a smile.  Nobody says bimbo anymore.  Slut….whore…either of those would work, but Bimbo?  I looked at her.  Okay, I said.  But up to that point, how was it?  It was fun, she said.  Just hard to accept you as a cold blooded rapist.
Well, I replied, I guess that’s a good thing.  Wouldn’t you be a bit worried if I was that good at it naturally?  She thought for a second and then responded.  Fair point, I guess.  Now let’s finish this.  I nodded and started back in on her neck.
 
I nibbled my way across her neck and down to her nipple.  She relaxed so she could enjoy it more and that made things a lot easier.  You see, this is a little game we played every year.  Not the whole rapist thing, but the role playing.  The sci fi convention is the perfect place.  We met at this convention two years ago.  Last year, we conceived our daughter here.  This year, if our plan holds, we’ll conceive a second child here.  It’s kind of our thing.
 
I sucked her nipple deep into my mouth.  The squirt of milk I got was spectacular.  I loved her milk.  I moved the bra cup off the second nipple and squeezed it between my thumb and fore finger.  Milk shot out like a firehose.  She moaned and arched her back in pleasure.  I could tell she was enjoying this as much as I was.  I switched nipples so I could get more.  The other kept dripping.  Lack of milk was definitely not a problem she had.  I kissed down her belly to her belly button.  Her belly button ring was shiny and new.  I flicked my tongue around her belly button.  With any luck, within a few months, it will be popping out again as her tummy grew.
 
I pulled her pretty pink panties down her long legs and threw them on the floor.  With gusto, I spread her legs and dug into her pussy with my tongue.  She weaved her fingers into my hair and moaned with satisfaction.  As her passion mounted, her pussy lips spread and came to life.  Her juices flowed and her clit engorged.  Her body had no problem letting you know she was enjoying herself  She moaned louder,  I knew she was getting close.  I ran my tongue around her clit at break neck speed.  Her ass was moving, her fingers were pulling my hair and her pussy juices were flowing like wine.  Her milk was squirting like a fountain onto her chest.  I knew this was it.  She pulled my face into her as her orgasm over took her.  She was very vocal in her satisfaction.  Thank God everyone was down at the convention.  She was screaming now, but in a good way.
 
As soon as she started cumming, I moved into position, with my hard cock right at the entrance to her pussy.  I shoved it in.  No use in being gentile now.  She gasped as I entered her.  I started hammering right away.  I didn’t want to give her any time to breathe.  I pounded her pussy for everything I was worth.  She was moaning and urging me on.  Fuck me harder, was all she could get out.  So I did.  I slammed her repeatedly.  I felt that familiar tingle deep in my balls.  I knew I was getting close.
 
I gonna cum, you slut.  Oh yes, she replied.  Cum in me.  Give me another baby.  She repeated this.  It was almost like a montra for her at this point.  So I did what I could to obey her wishes.  I felt my dick to to twich as I shot my cum into her.  I buried my cock as deep as I could.  I heard her inhale deeply as I emptied my nuts into her.  Hopefully, lightning can strike twice and my sperm can find and attack one of her very fertile eggs.  I loved it when she was pregnant and really want her that way again.  Luckily, we’ll have several times this weekend to try to achieve that goal
 
As I finished cumming, we both relaxed a little.  I lie there, on top of her, our juices dribbling out of her hole around my flagging cock.  We were spent.  We lie there holding each other for a while, just enjoying this time post coital.
 
I suppose we should clean up a little, I said.  Not yet, she replied.  Just a few more minutes.  I complied with her request.  I leaned in to suck on her nipple a little.  I hated to see her milk go to waste like that.  She whimpered as I suckled.  Not a bad whimper, mind you.  A satisfied little mewl.  After a few sucks, I rolled off of here.  I had an idea, I said to her.  I’m surprised you could get enough blood flow to your brain during all that.  She didn’t move as she spoke.  Let alone have enough for an idea.  She giggled.  Yeah, I said ignoring that last comment.  I’ve been thinking for a while now.  Yes? She questioned.
 
Well, we met here two years ago.  I knocked you up here last year and hopefully again this year.  Yes, she said.  Maybe next year, we could get married here.  She stopped breathing for a second.  She propped up on an elbow and looked at me.  Are you proposing to me? She asked.  Yeah, I said.  I guess I am.  We are lying here naked, covered in all sorts of bodily fluids, my pussy hanging wide open having just been freshly fucked and you ask me to marry you?  She spoke with surprising volume.  Yes, I replied.  She looked at me and fell back to the bed in exasperation.  How will we tell this story to our family, was all she could ask

I write pregnant, impregnation and lactation stories.  You can find more of my work at

Preg Stories on SubscribeStar.adult

I really hope you enjoy.  Feedback, constructive feedback, is always welcome.

Here is another piece.  Enjoy.

Started as a religious tradition, Mardi Gras has long been known as a time of over
indulgence. Moderation in an unknown concept during this time between the holidays of
Epiphany and Lent. The whole idea is to get all your eating of rich foods in before your 40
days of Lenton fasting. Mardi Gras is, at the very least, a weeklong party. And, oh what a
party it is. This story is not about a real Krewe nor should it be taken as any indication as to
what transpires in a real Mardi Gras Krewe. This is a work of fiction and should only be
taken as such. The characters in this story are completely fictional and not based, in any
way, on any person, living or dead. I hope you enjoy…


“The Krewe Of Milky Boobs”
Chapter One

Whitney Grace had been waiting for this moment for over a dozen years. Since
accompanying her mother, a second generation Maid in Waiting and herself a prior Queen
of this very group, Whitney has had one, very distinct goal in life. She wanted to follow in
her mothers footsteps as the Queen of The Krewe of Milky Boobs.
Of course, this wasn’t the real name of this Mardi Gras Krewe. Going along with tradition,
the founders picked a Greek God, or, in this case, goddess, to name the Krewe for. Gaia,
the mother of all Gods. In the 1920’s, when the Krewe Of Gaia was established, the
founders wanted to stand out from the other Krewe’s, to be different. To that end, they
declared that their yearly ‘Queen of Carnival’ would have to be unmarried and, better yet, a
virgin. They would be the only Krewe with a Virgin Queen. Money!
All the other Krewe’s would name the wives of their richest patrons ‘Queen’, mainly to gain
favor with the rich husband and he would shell out more bucks. An unmarried ‘Queen’
would be risky, but, as they calculated, ‘No risk, no reward’. Little did they know that, in
just a few short years, their risk would pay off, in spades. In1931, their ‘virgin’ Queen of
Carnival found herself knocked up after a tryst with one of the married patrons.
When Betsy McClean, the ‘virgin queen’ found herself ‘in the family way’, she kept the
information to herself. After all, she would only be six or seven months along when Mardi
Gras rolled around. Surely she could hide her condition with flowing robes and costumes.
Yeah, not so much. As she got larger, much larger, the truth was discovered only a week
before Mardi Gras. Our Virgin Queen Of Carnival was pregnant with twins.
The board of regents was in a quandary. Keep in mind, getting knocked up while being
single happened in the 20’s and 30’s. In fact, it happened a lot. It just wasn’t made public
knowledge. How do they handle this high profile catastrophe? Do they cancel their parade,
their biggest event of the year? Do they name a new queen at the eleventh hour? Do they
try to hide her burgeoning belly under feathers and costuming?
Luckily, there was one forward thinking board member named Ben Hunter, a local bank
president. He put a bold idea on the table. He suggested that they don’t distance
themselves from this problem, but embrace it. Make it seem like it was planned. It was a
huge gamble. In this era, most everyone knew a girl that had spread her legs once too
often, but didn’t discuss it. This could be an unmitigated disaster, but, what other choice
did they have? So, embrace it, they did.
They called in a reporter from the biggest newspaper in town, promising him ‘the exclusive
of his career’. The reporter came into the bankers office and sat down. Ben started his
pitch about the Krewe’s revolutionary new idea. It was something they’d been keeping
under wraps for months. It was going to change Carnival as everyone knew it. Ben was
laying it on thick. It was sink or swim time.
Ben walked over to the chair the reporter was sitting in. He spoke in his most relaxed and
businesslike voice. “Let me introduce to you, our Virgin Queen Of Carnival, Betsy
McClean.”
The doors opened and Betsy walked in. She was garbed in a brand new, if hastily put
together, Mardi Gras costume covered in satin and feathers. It did not, however, hide her
massive baby bump. It accentuated it. The reporter dropped his pencil, his jaw agape. He
sat there, momentarily, dumbfounded. His mind just didn’t know how to process what he
was seeing. Finally, after a few seconds, which, to the board seemed like hours, he smiled.
He smiled big.
“I love it.” Was all he could say. He started asking questions and interviewing everyone in
the room. He couldn’t wait to get back to his paper to write this piece. In his mind, they
had delivered what they promised, the scoop of the decade.
Of course, the story behind the story had been rewritten by Ben and the others on the
board. Instead of telling him that Betsy had fucked one of their rich backers, (she had
actually fucked several of the rich backers), they told the story of a fast talking salesman
and a poor naïve girl, the wooing and flattering and a momentary lapse in female
judgement. The reporter knew it was bullshit, but he loved it. This would sell the hell out of
the morning edition.
The next day, the Krewe Of Gaia was front page news. The community loved it. Betsy was
an overnight celebrity. In the next week, their membership numbers more than doubled.
Of course, when Mardi Gras was done and they saw the booming effect this had on the
membership, they made the edict. ‘To honor their Greek namesake, Gaia, and to set
themselves apart from the other carnival groups, form here on out, their Queen and her
court would all be pregnant. They would be as pregnant as they could be.’
Now, you wouldn’t have to be pregnant to be a member of this Krewe, but, to be a female
member of the Royal Court, you must be, noticeably and unmistakenly, deep in your third
trimester of pregnancy. The entire goal of the Royal Court was to be as close to your due
date on Mardi Gras as possible.
For almost a century now, women in this town fuck like little purple, green and gold bunnies
nine months from Mardi Gras, hoping to catch that lucky sperm that would propel them to
the most coveted royal position in town, the Pregnant Virgin Queen of The Krewe of Gaia.
Over the years, the Krewe garnered many nicknames, but the one that stuck was ‘The
Krewe of the Milky Boobs’. The board didn’t try to change that. They embraced it. They
became the Carnival group in town that really put the over indulgence into the event. They
even started throwing parties, nine months from Fat Tuesday, These parties included the
hottest girls and the sexiest guys. By the end of the night, people were fucking all over the
building, trying to knock up the next queen.
Women would try to time their pregnancies with Swiss clock accuracy to be as close to
‘ripe’ on Fat Tuesday as humanly possible. The rise in the birth rate the first week of Lent
would become the highest of the year. As a matter of fact, to give birth the day after
Carnival, without induction, of course, would get your picture on the Krewe Wall Of Fame.
The ladies of this carnival Krewe knew how to take “Fat Tuesday” to a whole new level.
Some things had changed over the years. The queen didn’t ‘have’ to be unmarried
anymore, but the board didn’t really hype up the fact that the Maid In Waiting was married.
Assuming they were knocked up and single was part of the mystique.
This was Whitney’s fifth go at Queen. Her first four attempts were valiant, but fell just short.
Last year, she made it to the top six for the first time, but ended up as third Maid. She knew
that this was her final chance, at least for a while. Five babies under five years old was all
she could handle. And with no husband to help, it really compounded things. Her parents
and siblings were a big help, but still. This was her year but she knew her competition
would be stiff.
After all, several of the women she was up against were the same as her, a house full of
babies and toddlers. Getting pregnant each year, trying to get the crown, took it’s toll on a
woman and her body. Imagine being in the Miss America pageant five years in a row, but
nine months pregnant while doing it. It’s something you really have to want. And Whitney
wanted it…. Bad. She knew the events, she knew what the judges were looking for, she
knew, deep in her heart, she kept telling herself that this was her year.
While waiting backstage for the final judging to begin, Whitney assesses her competition.
There were five other women, all blooming with sexual abundancy. Whereas the
competition had started with twenty five contestants, all meeting the entry requirements,
(almost half of them already having given birth), these were the finalists. These were the
crème de la crème of New Orleans pregnant upper class contestants.
There is Stephanie Grey, a leggy blonde with a massive belly and huge tits. Stephanie has a
slight advantage, however, being knocked up with twins. Damn her luck. Her husband is
an investment banker. They can afford nannies and nurses and anything she needs to keep
spitting out kids until she wins the crown. This was Stephanies third attempt at the crown
in the last five years. Whitney knew that Stephanie would be hard to beat, probably her
‘biggest’ competition.
Then there is Gina LaCroix. This is only Gina’s second go at the crown. Whitney wasn’t too
worried about her. She is inexperienced and will probably be knocked out of the race in the
first cut. Whitney was surprised that Gina had made it this far in only her second try. Gina
does have one thing going for her, however, she was a pageant brat. She knows how to
schmooze the judges and endear herself to the crowd. Whitney couldn’t underestimate
her.
Then there is Peggy Menendez. She’s the oldest of the finalists. In her forties and with eight
kids at home, she is the seasoned pro here. She was queen four years ago so she knows
what she’s doing. Her biggest problem is, with so many pregnancies, her tits sag and her
stretch marks are serious and hard to hide. That means that she’s not as strong in the bikini
contest as she used to be.
In the corner, the last two finalists are talking. Farah Wilson, Gina’s older sister, and
current queen, is discussing something with Opal Gollotte. Opal is the odds on favorite to
win this year. She’s got long legs, big, abundant breasts and, most threatening of all, she’s
Whitney’s sister.
Now, it’s not unusual to have sisters in the competition. As a matter of fact, seven years
ago, there was a set of twins, both finalists, both knocked up by the same guy on the same
day. Many feel that they cancelled each other out due to their similarities. There was some
talk within the krewe to name them co-queens, due to the unusual nature of having twin
queens. In the end, however, the ruling board of the krewe decided not to set that unusual
precedent.
One of the twins did go on a few years later, solo, to win the crown. With her sister home on
bedrest the night of that particular competition, single twin, Peggy Menedez did, indeed,
take home the crown that night. Her sister, Rachel, retired from competition after that, due
to the effects her pregnancies were having on her body.
That’s the one thing about this Krewe life. Running for queen really wreaked havoc on a
woman’s body. They don’t call us The Krewe of Milky Boobs for nothing. Even though
lactation is not a requirement, it’s hard to have that many small children and not be
constantly leaking. Luckily, the costumes are designed with this in mind.
Obviously, there are other inherent drawbacks to this business model, but the drama and
suspense of the situation more than made up for the negative aspects. And since carnival
is based on mainly Catholic beliefs, to begin with, the large family unit fits right into the
religious zeitgeist. Of course, they overlook the whole ‘fucking anything that moves to get
knocked up’ thing.
The competition for Queen begins soon after Epiphany. All interested women that meet the
pregnancy requirements are eligible to compete. A few at a time, contestants are
eliminated until six are left. A few back up maids are named, just in case. A week before
Lent, the three night stage competition begins to name the Queen and her maids. The
court rules for three days over Carnival, culminating on Fat Tuesday. Should the Queen go
into labor within those three days, the first Maid In Waiting becomes Queen and takes over
her duties.
The stage competition covers six events over three days. This is not open to the public. The
Krewe has a small theater with less than a hundred seats, just for this yearly event. Tonight
is night number one. By the end of the evening, one more competitor will become Maid
number five. The other five ladies will be one step closer to Queen. Needless to say, this
will be the hottest ticket in town for the next three days. At a thousand bucks per ticket,
only the hoi polloi of the Big Easy residents will witness the events. Most of the general
public doesn’t even know what transpires here. It’s all very ‘hush, hush’.
The stage manager walks across the stage telling the contestants to take their marks. The
show is about to begin. All six ‘ladies of abundance’ take their places, dressed in their
finest purple, gold and green attire. It’s time to start the show. In front of the curtain, the
brass band fires up their overture as the master of ceremonies takes the stage. She is a tall
woman with long legs and red hair. She is dressed in an outfit covered in multi colored
feathers with an elaborate headpiece made to look like a bright purple peacock. As the
band finishes their opening piece, she lifts the microphone to her mouth.
“Ladies and Gentlemen.” She starts enthusiastically. “Thank you for coming tonight to
help us crown our Queen. I am former Queen Brenda Wiley and I’ll be your host for the next
three nights of competition. If you’ve been with us before, you’ll know that the next few
evenings will be unlike any show you’ve ever seen before. This event is not for the faint of
heart. I can tell you from experience, that this is one of the most intense things most of
these ladies will ever go through, except the actual birthing process, anyway.” She laughs.
“The Krewe of Gaia is proud to present to you our Carnival Court.”
With that, the curtain opens and the band cranks up the first production number as our
contestants walk through their choreographed entrance. They move, waddle would
probably be more accurate, around the stage, giving everyone a good look at them. Their
entire look is meant to accentuate their blossoming figures. It is meant to really hone in on
their womanly ability to make and bear life. After a couple of minutes, the contestants line
up on the stage for their introductions. The M.C. takes the stage again.
“Let’s have a big hand for our lovely ladies, folks.” She begins. “Trust me, it takes a lot of
nerve to put themselves through what they are about to go through to be the Queen of our
Krewe.” The audience applauds and the girls all smile.
Brenda continues. “Let’s meet our mothers to be, shall we?” The audience applauds
again.
“First up, competing for the sixth time deep into her seventh pregnancy, she is our current
Queen, hoping to be the first to serve in back to back reigns, ladies and gentlemen, please
welcome Farah Wilson.”
Farah steps forward, sticking out her belly and rubbing it lovingly, as the audience cheers.
Knowing that this would, likely, be her last year competing, she knows she wants to set a
precedent of being the only back to back Queen in the Krewe’s history. She waves to the
crowd and walks off the stage.
“Next up,” Brenda continues, “is our current queens youngest sister. You’ll find this years
event to be a real ‘family affair’. This is only her second year to compete for queen and
she’s made it to the final six. That’s already quite the accomplishment. That’s baby
number three kicking around inside there. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for Gina
Lacroix.”
The crowd cheers for her accomplishment thus far and hope that she will give them a great
show. She steps forward in one of the few barebelly gowns on the stage. She stops and
leans back a little to offer her belly to the crowd. They cheer. She rubs her belly lovingly
and walks off the stage.
Brenda speaks again. “Next is our youngest competitor at only twenty four years old, in her
third attempt to be Queen, this is her first time to make the finals. She is pregnant with her
fifth and sixth children…yes, folks, she’s carrying twins. Let’s hear it for Stephanie Grey.”
As the crowd cheers, Stephanie walks forward in her lovely green gown. She stops and
hikes up her gown. Slowly and amazingly, she slides into the splits. The crowd goes wild.
Getting down to the stage was the easy part. Getting back up, on the other hand, took a
hand from Branda, the M.C. She made her way back to her feet and left the stage.
Brenda goes on. “Next is one of two, third generation Maid’s in Waiting. Her grandmother,
Evelyn Cummings, was a Maid In Waiting in the 1980’s, and her mother, Margeret Grace,
was our Queen in 2007. She is 29 years old and this is her fifth attempt at the crown. She
has competed with all five of her pregnancies. This is her second time in the finals. Let’s
hear it for the lovely, Whitney Grace.”
The crowd applauds and cheers, as much for her as for her mother, who was Queen just
twelve years earlier with Whitney and Opal’s youngest sister. They are fan favorites
because their families have been in the Krewe longer than just about anyone else. Whitney,
in her vibrant tri color gown and brilliant purple hair steps forward and gives the crowd her
best ‘royal’ wave. She then exits the stage.
“And now,” Brenda goes on, “Whitney’s older sister. She has been in this contest, an
amazing seven times, also with every one of her pregnancies. This family seem to live for
this contest. Ladies and gentlemen, third generation Maid in Waiting, Opal Gollotte.”
As the audience cheers, Opal appears to simply glide forward on the stage. She gives the
audience a small curtsey and a big smile. She really knows how to play the crowd. She
then exits the stage.
“And now, folks, for our final contestant.” Brenda hypes. “She was Queen four years ago,
and now she’s back for more. This is her ninth and, according to her, last pregnancy. She
wants to retire with a return reign as Queen. Let’s hear it for Peggy Menendez.”
As Peggy steps forward, the crowd roars. They respect her reign as queen and for trying one
more time, but not a lot of them have high hopes for her win. She bows slightly and leaves
the stage, but not before giving a knowing wink to her twin, Rachel, in the audience.
Brenda once again takes center stage. “Well, folks. That’s our court this year. In three
nights, one of these voluptuous mothers will be our new Queen of Carnival. We’ll take a
short break to prepare for the first event and get this show on the road. Buckle your seat
belts, folks. It’s going to be a great night. By the end of the evening, we’ll be down to four
Maids competing for Queen. Right now, let’s hear it for the Gene Hampton Brass Band.”
The band leader counts them down and the band starts playing as the curtain closes. The
audience is alive with whispers and comments. People are talking about the Maids, the
costumes, the rumors, the truths. And now, on with the show.

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So you’ve the book and you’ve seen the movie and, you think, you know the whole story?
Well, have I got news for you. You don’t know the half of it. Yes, the wizard left. Yes, Glenda
the Good Witch swooped in to help poor Dorothy get home, but that’s where it all went to
hell in a hand cart, as the old saying goes. Trust me, this was no ‘Disney’ ending. Now it’s
time to hear the truth of the matter.  Obviously, this is fan fiction.  Mine.  I hope you enjoy…


The Emerald Empress
Chapter One

So, the plot so far. The Wizard has just flown away in his hot air balloon. Dorothy and her
friends are standing there, Dorothy is crying and here comes this big ball of light. Glenda
The Good Witch touches down, and, well, you know what happens. Glenda tells Dorothy
that she had the power to get home the whole time. The Ruby Slippers, and all.
Dorothy was pissed. “What?” she asked. “You mean to tell me that I could have gone
home all this time?” Dorothy took a deep breath. “You just wanted me to get rid of the
Wicked Witch of the West for you. What a real live bitch. All the shit you put me and my
friends through. What the hell?” Dorothy got more and more upset as she thought about
their journey to Oz. Needless to say, this is not at all how Glenda had expected this to go
down. She’s standing there, trying to deescalate the situation, when the scarecrow leaned
over and whispered something to Dorothy and slips something in her hand behind her
back.
Like a flash, Dorothy brings out the broken remnant of The Wicked Witch of the Wests
broomstick. Before Glenda could even process what was going on, Dorothy had shoved
this broken piece of wood right through the midsection of the beautiful white witch.
Glenda looks down at her light blue gown, now a symphony of red, she grabs the
broomstick handle and falls to her knees. She doesn’t take the doctors from the local Oz
General Hospital to tell her she’s a goner. As it turns out, when the wizard gave the
scarecrow his brains, he didn’t think to add a conscience to the package. With his
newfound smarts and monumental lack of scruples, it occurred to the straw man, which is
what he then passed on to Dorothy, that, she, Dorothy had already killed two powerful
witches. With the wizard gone and the third witch dead, they would be able to take over
the entire Kingdom of Oz and, pretty much, do anything they pleased. When Dorothy had
felt the broken broomstick in her hand, her rage at being used by Glenda and the wizard did
the rest.
As it turns out, when you kill a witch, you need to make it fast. The one thing neither of
them counted on was Glenda’s dying words as she slumped to the ground bleeding out.
“Whether it’s a thirst for power or a hunger for revenge, be careful of your appetites. They
will most certainly be your undoing.” With those words and a wave of her wand, Glenda
The Good Witch was gone, vanishing into the same glowing sphere that had transported
her there a few minutes earlier.
Dorothy and the scarecrow looked at each other. “What the hell did she mean by that?”
Dorothy asked, nobody in particular.
“My guess,” the scarecrow started, “It was just the ravings of a dying witch. The important
thing is that she is gone and we have a kingdom to rule.” As the lion and the tinman looked
on, incredulously, the scarecrow turned to the crowd and puffed out his straw stuffed
chest.
“People of Oz.” he stated loudly and clearly. “It is my honor to introduce to you, Dorothy of
Kansas, Killer of Witches, Banisher of Wizards, your new Emerald Empress. Bow down and
pay homage.”
The people of Oz didn’t know what to think. For years, they’ve lived in peace and prosperity
under the wizard, but now….what now? At that moment, the scarecrow nudged the lion in
the chest and the lion roared.
“Bow down!” he roared.
Suddenly, every knee in the kingdom was knelt upon. Every head bowed in reverence.
What else could they do? There was no one to protect them now. Noone but The Empress
and her friends…her court.
As they made their way back to the Royal Palace in the coach pulled by The Horse Of A
Different Color, the four friends made their plans. No more scaring crows, no more
standing frozen in the rain, no more running from, well, everything. This was their chance
and, by God, they were going to take it.
Still, Dorothy couldn’t help[ thinking about Glenda’s final words. As she thought, she felt
an itch in her groin, She rubbed it a little, but it didn’t help much. She just put it out of her
mind and waved to her ‘adoring’ subjects.
It took them no time, at all, to intimidate the local authorities into giving them whatever
they wanted. After all, Dorothy had, indeed, killed three powerful witches and gotten rid of
their wizard. How were the people of Oz going to stand against that? Dorothy had taken up
residence in the wizards old suite, hidden away from prying eyes. She called designers and
seamstresses to her chambers to design and execute a new wardrobe for her and her
‘advisors’.
Everything was going well. She just couldn’t get rid of this itch in her pussy. No, not really
an itch. It was more of a tingle. A tingle that crept deeper into Dorothy. That night, she was
lounging in her bed chamber when she felt something she’d never felt before. It was an
odd, warm feeling that started deep in the pit of her…stomach, no, lower. She felt a heat,
not an itch, not a tingle. Now it was a hunger, a hunger that she couldn’t name. She wasn’t
hungry for food. It was something else.
She reached down, down to her crotch and rubbed. Her panties were wet. She rubbed the
folds of her pussy. She massaged her clit. Ah, that was it. That felt much better. Well, it
felt better for a minute. Soon the feeling came back, and it was worse than before. She
rubbed harder. It wasn’t working anymore. It seemed that the harder she rubbed, the
more powerful the feeling was that came back.
Pretty soon, she had her panties off and her fingers in her wet pussy. She rubbed her clit,
which felt great, but didn’t relieve much of the pressure she was feeling. She called for her
head advisor, the scarecrow, to her chambers. She described the problem to him, all the
while rubbing her pussy on anything she could. The scarecrow, not possessing genitalia,
was dumbfounded by the problem, but he was able to discern that this must be the hunger
that Glenda had spoken of.
“No shit, Sherlock.” Was Dorothy’s retort to his epiphany. The lion, with his cat’s nose came
sniffing into the room.
“Holy shit, Dorothy, you’re in heat.” The lion said.
“What do you mean, ‘I’m in heat’?” she asked.
“It means that your body is ready to….” He sniffed the air. “Ready to…” He sniffed again. All
of a sudden, the lion got a strange look on his face and his cock started to harden. He
started moving toward Dorothy, pretty much cock first. The tinman and the scarecrow had
to grab him and shove him out of the room. As they locked the door to keep the horny lion
out, Dorothy looked at the scarecrow very concerned.
“I’m a farm girl, scarecrow,” Dorothy started. “I’ve seen animals in heat before. It’s not
pretty. Every male animal around them smells it and feels the need to take a shot at them.
And what it does to the female…” As Dorothy is speaking, she doesn’t realize that her hand
was busy rubbing her pussy raw. “Oh, my God, scarecrow. You have to do something.
This is driving me crazy.”
The scarecrow thought for a moment. Meanwhile, Dorothy is sitting on the couch rubbing
herself at a frantic pace. “Obviously,” the scarecrow said, “since the tinman nor I have a
mammals sex organs, therefore, no sex drive, we are immune to your feminine smells, but,
from what happened to the lion, I can surmise that most other males will be similarly
affected.”
“So what the hell are you saying?” Dorothy asked outright, leaning back trying sate this
immense sexual hunger with her Royal Sceptre. “I have to have this problem fixed. I can’t
go through life playing with my own pussy. It’s not even doing any good.”
The scarecrow replied, “My guess is, that this need will become much more pervasive as
time goes by.”
“What the hell are you saying?” the Empress asked.
“Quite frankly,” replied the scarecrow, “you’re fucked. Or at least, you will need to be. You
need a man, a man’s hard cock to scratch that itch.” He thought for a moment, and then
added. “Dorothy, if you are ‘in heat’ as the lion suggests, then it’s my guess, your
impregnation is the only thing that will stop this.”
“My what?” Dorothy screamed.
“Uh, your….impregnation.” he replied.
“God damn her,”Dorothy muttered almost under her breath. “This is what she was talking
about. That fucking witch did this to me. Fuck her”
“No offense, Dorothy,” he corrected her, “but it looks like she’s fucked you pretty well.”
Dorothy looked at him with venom in her eyes. “Find me a man to fuck, you worthless
clump of hay!” she screamed.
The scarecrow and tinman left the room as fast as he could to find Dorothy a hard man.
Scarecrow left tinman to guard Dorothy’s door. He didn’t know how far this pheromonal
scent would travel, and, since it was magical in nature, just how strong it would be.
Meanwhile, Dorothy was looking for anything she could to scratch this new itch of hers.
She tried anything that looked the least bit phallic. The handle of her hairbrush, the can of
hairspray on her bedside table, even the odd looking sculpture that looked like a giant
chess piece. Nothing did the trick. Pretty soon, there was a knock on the door. The door
opened and the was the scarecrow with a handsome young man in jeans and a leather
apron. The scarecrow ushered him in quickly and closed the door. The young man saw
Dorothy and immediately fell to his knee.
“Empress,” he said. “it is an honor to serve….sniff, sniff.” He started sniffing the air. He
slowly started to look up with a wicked grin on his face. Dorothy grabbed his hand and
pulled him toward the bedroom.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Just get in here and fuck me.” The young man looked at her with
renewed interest.
“Yes, your highness.”
The scarecrow knew that he wanted none of this action, so he left the room while Empress
Dorothy and her new beau made their way to the bed. Following the trail of clothes, a blind
hound dog would have been able to track them. Before they knew it, the bed was
squeaking as the young man was fucking the shit out of the young Emerald Empress. His
hard cock pounding away at the once virginal young lady they called Dorothy. Now, she
was nothing more than a horny slut looking for a load of virile cum. Dorothy realized that
she was very vocal in her sexual appetites.
“God damnit, fuck me, you son of a bitch.” She screamed. The young man, who she later
found out was named Sean, did his best to satisfy Dorothy’s new found sexual appetite. He
fucked her for what seemed like hours, cumming inside her a couple of times. This seemed
to satisfy the itch to some degree. When he just couldn’t fuck her anymore, he tried other
remedies. He tried fingering her. First one finger, then two…three. It seemed like the more
he tried, the hornier she got. The hornier she got, the more frustrated she got.
“Scarecrowwwwww!” she screamed. They could hear footsteps running down the hall and
the scarecrow burst through the door.
“Yes, Empress?” he asked.
“Scarecrow, this one is done. I need another one.” She screamed.
“I figured as much, my lady.” He said, as calmly as he could. He opened the door fully and
shoved another young man into the room. The first young man, Sean, rolled off the bed
onto the floor as the second young man climbed into the bed.
“Your majesty,” the second man started. “My name is….”
“I don’t give a fuck.” Dorothy growled. “Just fuck me.”
She grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved his face into her twat. As he inhaled the
aroma released by her steaming pussy, his dick got harder than a steel rod. He got up
between her legs and started to impale her on his hard cock as she screamed for more.
This went on for several days, pausing only when Dorothy was so exhausted that she just
couldn’t stay awake anymore. She would sleep until the itch started getting bad again.
For the next week, the scarecrow kept a steady stream of young men making circuits
through the palace. Dorothy had lost count of how many cocks had made their way through
her bedroom door. Frankly, she didn’t care, as long as they kept her satisfied. After a solid
week of fucking, her itch started to abate. She was able to slow down. She still had to be
fucked, but not as often.
After three weeks, her suitors were down to one a day. Dorothy had eaten as much as she
could between fucks, but now, she couldn’t even look at food. She would wake up in the
morning and go straight to the bathroom to throw up. The scarecrow, with his newfound
brilliance, knew exactly what this meant. He called in the royal physician. After an
examination and pregnancy test, his theory was confirmed. The Emerald Empress was with
child.
As the scarecrow had surmised, after impregnation was successful, the itch in her pussy
started to recede. The scarecrow was now getting the full impact of Glenda’s curse. Unless
he was mistaken, his empress would have to get pregnant, over and over again, to avoid
this wild frenzy of heightened sexual activity.
It looks as though her wardrobe designers would have to design her an entire line of
maternity wear.
What he didn’t know, for sure, and only time would tell, was how long after she gave birth it
would be before the curse would take hold again. He knew that they would have to keep a
long line of suitors ready for the next round of impregnation. It appeared that Dorothy would
have any number of children in the coming years. This, it would appear, is the actual extent
of Glenda’s curse

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