It’s happening. Your gorgeous fiancée is radiant and glowing, the center of attention in a room full of all of your friends and family. It’s your engagement banquet—on which she spent an obscene amount of your (now her) money on, and even though everything about her looks expensive and stunning and ethereal, the only thing anybody is talking about is her big, bulging belly. That’s right, your fiancée is pregnant and she is anything but able to hide it. She’s never looked more beautiful in her life, and all eyes are on her as everyone congratulates her. Even your buddies are slapping you on the back, excited at the thought of you sticking your dick up into this beautiful woman and loading a ton of your nut into her. Except that’s exactly what you didn’t do—put your cum in her.

You’re not a paranoid, suspicious person. But if you really think about the timeline of your fiancée's pregnancy, it doesn’t match up with the times she let you fuck her. You know this because this rarely happens, and when it does, you are rarely allowed the opportunity to cum. You’re not saying you have anything to complain about, you love being able to stick your tongue far up into her pussy for hours, but there was definitely only one person cumming and it definitely wasn’t you. And if you really, really think about it—and again, you’re not a paranoid or suspicious person—you can’t recall the last time she let you cum inside of her. If ever. But that could only mean one thing, and at the moment, nobody at this now humiliatingly decadent engagement party knew the truth apart from you and her. And of course, the person who impregnated her.

Your fiancée is frustratingly smart. You thought you were smart, and then you met her. The inner workings of her mind expanded past what yours could a long time ago, and you accepted your place as the dumb, workhorse partner who brought home the bacon as she indulged all of her interests, never to be stifled by the idea of having to spend a dollar that wasn’t earned by you, just for her. ‘No’ has never been in her vocabulary, but you never gave her the opportunity to learn it, relinquishing full control of your finances to her before the thought of using you in this capacity ever crossed her mind. So how could someone so smart, so powerful, so influential, accidentally slip up and let you in on who the real father of her baby is? The more you think about it, the clearer it becomes: your fiancée does nothing by accident.

She meant to leave her phone up to photos of the two of them. She meant to leave the card out when he sent her flowers—’so wonderful to have spent the night in you’. She meant to disappear and lose her phone for two weeks, only to return tanned and glowing, as though all was well. And all was well, because this wasn’t your fiancée playing dumb, this was her silent way of telling you this is the way it’s going to be, and you’re going to go along with it, and you’re going to like it. She came back from her two week disappearance so horny it was clear she had spent the whole time being dicked down, stretched out, and cummed in. You put her tongue deep into her pussy, just like the old days, except now she was so much juicier. So much white creaminess came out for days and your horny ass was so desperate to continue licking her, you never brought it up. She blessed you with this opportunity until you started noticing little things like her tummy starting to puff and her pussy tasting sweeter. Your fiancée was pregnant, and you got to face the fact that it was another man’s dick that made her tits swell up with milk.

These images—your fiancee’s fat swollen tits and fat ass bouncing up and down on another man’s dick—were all you could think about as your party guests asked you about how excited and happy you must be. All you could do is nod as the thought of this guy cumming into her so many times it impregnated her, while you weren’t even allowed to cum at all. You saw them off, hugged your guests goodbye as you realized you had licked his cum out of her when she came back from their two week breeding getaway, and that it had been lodged so deeply within her it took days for you to lick out. And how even after that getaway, she continued to go away with him, and you became conditioned to be excited at the thought of him because it meant you got to lick her when they were done together. Honestly, if he wanted to breed her again after this, who were you to say no?