You endure

You bite your lip hard, trying to bear the intrusion of her massive cock. Every nerve ending in your pussy screams in protest as she begins to move, drawing back slightly before pushing in again. The drag of her thick shaft against your walls sends fresh waves of pain radiating through your pelvis.

"Uhhnngg," you groan, a sound torn from your throat that's pure distress.

But Abigail, lost in her own pleasure and unfamiliar with the nuances of female responses, misinterprets completely.

"You like that?" she pants, encouraged by what she thinks is your enjoyment. "You like how deep I am?"

Her thrusts gain confidence, each one sending sharp jolts of pain through your core. Your hands clutch desperately at the sheets, knuckles white. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, but Abigail doesn't notice, her gaze fixed on where your bodies join.

"So fucking tight," she moans, watching her thick shaft disappear into you. "Your pussy feels amazing, baby."

You turn your face to the side, pressing it into the pillow to hide your grimace. The pain is relentless—a burning, stretching sensation that feels like being torn apart from the inside. There's none of the pleasure you remember from your male body, just overwhelming fullness and discomfort.

"God, I can feel everything," Abigail gasps, her rhythm becoming more erratic. "The way you squeeze me... so wet..."

Your wetness has increased, but it's your body's defensive response to the invasion, not arousal. The slickness helps ease some of the friction, but does little for the deep, aching pain of being stretched beyond capacity.

"Ungh... aaah," you groan again, tears streaming freely now.

"Yes, baby," Abigail responds, completely misreading your signals. "Make those sounds for me. You feel so good."

Her face is transformed with pleasure—cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, mouth open in a constant stream of moans and praise. She's experiencing the overwhelming intensity of penetration for the first time, and it's consumed her completely.

"I think I'm getting close already," she warns, her movements becoming more urgent. "I can't... it's too much... you're squeezing me so tight..."

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing through the pain, telling yourself it will be over soon. Your new body feels foreign, violated, but somewhere beneath the pain is the knowledge that this is still Abigail—your wife, your partner—even if she's temporarily lost to the sensations of her new body.

Just endure it, you think, clenching your teeth. For her. For us. For the baby we've wanted so badly.

Abigail's breathing becomes ragged as her hips pick up speed. "Oh god, I can't... I can't hold back," she gasps, her movements growing frantic.

The increased pace amplifies your agony. Each thrust feels like being punched from the inside, her massive girth scraping against your tender walls with brutal ****. You bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood, trying desperately to keep quiet as she pounds into you.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Abigail cries out, her entire body tensing. Her cock swells even larger inside you—a final cruel stretch—before pulsing violently.

You feel the hot rush of her cum flooding your insides, jet after powerful jet painting your cervix and filling your channel. The quantity is shocking—far more than you ever produced as a man—and the warmth spreads deep inside you.

As her semen floods your new pussy, something unexpected happens. A tingling warmth spreads from your core outward—what the pamphlet called a "fertility flash." For a brief moment, the pain recedes as your body registers the presence of viable sperm. Your cervix contracts rhythmically, greedily drawing her seed deeper, and a wave of involuntary pleasure ripples through you.

But this momentary biological response can't overcome the trauma of the experience. The second Abigail collapses on top of you, her weight pressing you into the mattress, the dam breaks.

A sob tears from your throat—raw, wounded, uncontrollable. Then another. And another. Tears stream down your face as you finally release all the pain and violation you've been holding back.

"Baby?" Abigail asks, lifting her head in confusion. Her cock is still inside you, semi-hard and stretching you painfully. "What's wrong?"

You can't form words through your sobs, your new body shaking beneath her. The reality of what's happened—to your body, to your relationship—crashes down on you all at once.

Abigail's expression shifts from post-orgasmic bliss to horror as she finally recognizes your tears for what they are. "Oh my god," she whispers, carefully withdrawing from you. Even this gentle movement sends fresh pain through your abused pussy. "Was I hurting you? This whole time?"

You nod, unable to speak, curling into yourself as soon as she's out of you. You feel hollowed out, raw. Her cum leaks from your stretched opening, mixed with traces of blood from your torn tissues.

"I'm so sorry," Abigail gasps, reaching for you but hesitating, suddenly afraid to touch you. "I didn't—I couldn't tell—it just felt so good and I thought you were enjoying it too."

Your sobs begin to quiet into hiccupping breaths. Between your legs throbs with a deep, persistent ache. You feel used, violated—even though it was Abigail, even though this was what you both agreed to.

"It was too big," you finally manage to whisper, your new voice small and broken. "It hurt so much."

Shame and horror wash over Abigail's face as she realizes what she's done. "I'm so sorry," she repeats, tears filling her own eyes. "I got lost in how it felt. I should have been more careful with you."

She gently pulls you into her arms, and despite everything, you let her hold you. She strokes your hair, kissing your forehead, murmuring apologies.

"We'll figure this out," she promises, her voice thick with guilt. "We'll go slower next time. Or maybe we need lube, or to stretch you first, or—"

You cut her off with a small, humorless laugh. "Next time," you repeat, the words both a question and a resignation. Because you both know there will be a next time—the pills, the transformation, all of it was for this purpose.

Abigail holds you tighter, her soft breasts pressing against your new ones, her now-softening cock resting heavily against your thigh—a constant reminder of your new reality.

"I love you," she whispers. "Not just your body. You. And I'm so sorry I hurt you."

You nod against her shoulder, too exhausted for more words. Between your legs, her seed continues to work its way deeper into your womb, the purpose of all this pain and transformation. Your body, designed for fertility, cradles it hopefully.

What have we done? you think, closing your eyes against fresh tears. What have I become?