It's Roan, Your Valet+

You were expecting an old man when you reached the blazing fire, peering down over the back of your huge chair to get a look at your apparent valet. Maybe bald, probably with a trimmed white beard, DEFINITELY dryly sardonic. Or something. What you certainly didn't expect was the leggy girl about your age who makes a sound of delight as you appear overhead, lithely slinks up onto her knees despite the awkwardness of her situation, twines her graceful fingers into your hair and pulls you down into a deep kiss.

You keep your eyes open as your valet hungrily explores your mouth, trying to get a handle on who this is even as she helps herself to whatever handle she can find on you. She's tall for one, probably noticeably taller than you this morning, but still quite dainty compared to you now. Her black hair has been neatly cropped into a short pageboy, framing an girlish face with thick eyebrows and something of an aquiline nose. Your eyes drift lower as she impishly nips at your tongue, idly noting she's dressed quite similarly to you. You're pleased to note that unlike you she has a plump handful of breasts happily peeking out of her doublet, and you're especially pleased to note that her snug leggings only advertise long shapely legs, a pert little heart-shaped butt and a bit of a camel-toe. Oh, and an overripe bulging tummy, clearly filled to the brim with at least one baby. As she chuckles a bit through your kiss, you're singularly struck that she's like the incredibly hot girl next door, but one who can't ever remember to use birth control.

Your feel your pulse starting to ring in your ears as you gaze down down at your valet's utterly stuffed belly. This feeling that's enveloping you...it's not lust, not quite. You don't mistake yourself; if called to do so you have no doubt you could fuck a hole clear through a station wagon right now, but this isn't like the throbbing, white-hot need you felt before. Rather, this is a feeling that everything here is right, everything here is good and as it should be. And if maybe you could fuck in a little bit, that would be great too.

Your valet pulls away from you and blows a raspberry off to one side, swiping a thumb over her tongue. "Blech!", she grouses in a silvery voice, "What do they make the beer out of here, mud? Cheap mud? Spoiled cheap mud? How do you drink that?" She flashes you an impish grin, darting back in for another quick peck before she starts pulling at your arm to steer you into the chair. She gracefully slips into your lap as you settle down, throwing an arm around your neck as she plants your hand securely onto her fertile stomach. She regards you with twinkling chestnut eyes as you instinctively begin to trace fingers across her motherly swelling. "So", she says in a playfully reproachful tone, "which one were you up there fucking?"

You pause a moment, not sure what you expected to be the first thing she said to you was going to be. This is a dream? Surprise, you're on TV? Hello maybe? She clearly takes your silence as a challenge, tapping a finger against a pink lip as her other hand idly winds through your hair. "Okay~....well it's not Blondie, I saw her when I came in. Was it Bubble Butt? No...? Hmmm! Ooo, was it Freckles?! Wait, there are three Freckles. Was it Young Freckles, you dog? Nooo? It wasn't Tits Freckles, was it?!"

She must have seen something she took as acknowledgment in your eyes, because she lets out a trill of salacious laughter and kicks her legs into the air. "It was, wasn't it?! Oh, you're so greeeedy. Ugh!" She playfully gives your hair a quick tug. "You should have waited for me! Fucking hell, those tits!" She ruefully palms one of her own perfectly respectable breasts, admittedly significantly smaller than the generous rack of Tits Freckles (Oh God you can't ever call her that). Your valet lets out a deeply dramatic sigh. "Now she's going to have a big-titted daughter and I'll have two barmaids to be jealous of in this dump!"

Wait, is she saying you-?

You clear your throat. "Er, if she's having one, you mean..?"

Your valet dismissively waves her hand. "Yes yes I know, your stupid cum usually prefers to dole out boys. It's nothing but great hulking baby boys, over and over again! Blah!" She presses her hand down onto yours where it still plays with her belly. "I'm making an executive decision; when I finally have a girl I'm naming her Roan. After hefting around three of our stupidly huge boys, I'll have definitely earned the right to name our stupidly huge daughter after myself."

Three of your....Wait, did she just say you have THREE KIDS? With a girl who's maybe as old as you are? You take another swallow from your mug to steady yourself, prompting your valet (Roan? Isn't that a horse thing?) to make a teasing yucky face and then wink. "So it's settled then; if you want to name a girl you're going to have to get up off your ass and finally give me twins."

Her look turns mischievous as she twists around, rubbing her cheek against yours as she presses her breasts into your chest and whispers into your ear. "You know, for every baby I've given you, you've given me a cup size. Remember how flat I used to be? Everyone thought I was a pretty boy." She pouts theatrically, a hand snaking down to expertly toy with your very grateful bulge. "Want to bet a baby girl would pile on twice as much boob? And twin girls? We could come back here and rename Tits Freckles to Just Freckles. Won't that show her?"

She's absolutely lost you, but you do know one thing: If you don't get some sort of distraction soon, this little minx is going to make you flood your pants, the fireplace and the whole goddamn tavern with jizz.