Hubby's Happy Hucow (Female POV, BBW, Lactating, Breeding. Ongoing.)

Let's get something straight. I'm fat.

Not plump, not curvy, not big, and certainly not thicc. I am F-A-T, fat.

And I'm perfectly okay with that.

Because right now, my darling husband, who likes to be called my "Rancher" whenever we're getting frisky, is currently resting comfortably on my ample lap and stomach, with one hand pinching and pulling at one leaking nipple, and his head cradled in my arm, suckling my milk greedily out of my other teat, has the most serene and at peace expression on his face. Meanwhile, I'm busy attending to his crotch, stroking his beautiful cock slowly and gently massaging his sack, getting him all nice and ready to rut and breed me like the stud he is. He once joked about having enough kids to field a soccer team with them, including the substitute. I don't know if I'll be able to, but with our third and fourth (Twins! Yay!) now home and sleeping soundly in the nursery, and their siblings "standing" guard in their deep sleep on the futon with them, I'm going to do my best, so help me God.

We met at a work convention about ten or so years ago. I was a junior sales exec, and he had just gotten into a management training course. I think he approached me because I was probably looking more nervous than he was. He was pleasant, charming, and the way his tongue tied itself into ribbons when he was trying to chat me up was adorable. I remember thinking to myself, that because I was already a bit on the hefty side back then, he probably thought I looked like an easy lay, which in hindsight I was, given that I slept with him after our second date. But at least he had the decency, and the guts, to tell me on our first date, that he was a chubby chaser. My two ex's and the string of first-dates would spew out the "Big is Beautiful" BS that you could smell a mile away, just to get into my plus-sized panties, but him being upfront about what he liked, was a genuine surprise, and made me respect him for his honesty.

We got married a year and a half later. And as the wedding date grew nearer, the bride's worst nightmare happened, because of course it did. Not that I had been doing anything to prevent it. It was only a size difference, and the attempts to reduce wedding planning stress, made me even more stressed, which made me put on more weight, when then stressed me out about not fitting into my dress, that led me to stress about not gaining anymore weight, and then I would suddenly find myself wading through empty ice cream tubs. But now, looking at our wedding photo, and the smiles on our faces really did make it the happiest day of our lives. Not to mention that in the photo album, I can see behind the painted on smiles, deep in the eyes of my normal-sized girl friends, the disbelief that the fat chick got married before they did. And (not to toot my own horn), but I am still happily married to the same guy, while most of them are either single moms with a couple of baby-daddies, serial daters with a phone-book's worth of one-night stands, or on their second or third messy divorce, all complaining about where the good men have gone. The other happily married girls and I have told them that both people have to be each other's biggest fans for relationships to work, but they think otherwise.

Anyway, before I get too carried away, (but mainly because I'm getting impatient), I'm going to leave you with a few highlights of our life together since we got married, and how I became his cheery milkmaid and baby-maker.