My biggest fantasy is to live my life out having babies every 9 months...

Not just any babies...big black babies.

I've always had pale white skin, and I get chills when I imagine a big, dark hand on my stomach, moving across my pearly white skin, up my body and over my breasts and chest. I'm pretty small, too, so I can only imagine laying against a huge 6-foot plus body as he feels me up. I'd feel like a queen in her throne, even though I'm about to be used as a baby maker.

And that's the thing: I love the objectification of it. I love the idea that my value is in so primitive a use. It's my body that's useful, no more than that. Once the seed is in, you could hang me up from ceiling for 9 months- it wouldn't matter- and then a baby would come out. Sometimes I fantasize about that- about being kind of useless even still. I mean, I can only have one baby every nine months. That's so inefficient. Meanwhile men are ready to breed every day. Even as an object I have my limits.

I can just imagine though, being a part of some commune somewhere where black men and white women come together to make as many babies as possible. I can imagine Breeding Day, when I'll get pregnant again...when all of those black men swarm me in my bed and take me over and over, filling me up until I'm literally overflowing with their thick, hot seed. It'd last for hours, another cock entering just after one blows inside me. Then I'd really be like a pearl- a bright white patch amid a big shell of dark skin. And then when the crowd is dispersed, I have to keep my hips raised for 24 hours so that it can all sink in.

Or hell, even something less formal would do! I meet a guy at a party, I let him take me, I experience the wonders of black cock for the first time, and he gets me pregnant with no effort. Then I feel his baby growing in my belly, getting big very quickly. At 6 months, people are already asking if I'm having twins...but no, it's just because black babies are much bigger and stronger than white ones. I love that idea, that the baby inside me is getting bigger and bigger- enough to scare and shock people. And I'd show it off too. I'd wear unfitting clothes everywhere, letting my stretched pale orb peek out from under my shirt. I'd revel in those "how trashy" looks I'd get. And from the outside they can't even tell that there's a nice black baby inside of that trashy-looking belly.

And I would love every part of it. I'd love getting big and heavy. Each pain, each pause to breathe a reminder that someone has marked me. Someone has laid claim to my body and now their child is ruining its youthful beauty. It would feel so good to have that stretched belly feeling like it's about to burst. That would be pure bliss, a sign that I'm at the epitome of womanhood. And I've done my evolutionary duty by breeding with the best.

Then once I do all that work pushing out my darling big black baby...I start to feel the itch. At first it's not so great, but as I heal it grows and grows until I'm consumed by it: I need to be pregnant again. I start recklessly seeking out black seed wherever i can get it just get pregnant. Baring life is my life now, and I can't feel alive when I'm not full with a black baby. So no matter the cost, I have to have another, and another, and another. I get addicted so easily. I get the tramp stamp and everything just to let people know that's what I do in life: I lay around and get fat with black men's babies.

I'd love to live that life.