It was over.
They finally did it. 76 and Widowmaker were finally free.
For now.
You see, they decided enough was enough. They were tired of Talon, tired of Overwatch. Tired of the Omnic crises, the rise of the damn corporations, the endless cycle of death and destruction they have shepherded over. It affected them physically as well – Widowmaker is basically a organic cold-blooded robot - a continual reminder of the impact death and destruction and mayhem has played on their lives, as well as the perpetuation of it.
So they left.
It was relatively easy, relatively speaking. They boarded a puddle jumper from London on a routine mission and in a flash and a blaze,it exploded about 30 miles from shore. Bodies were never found, assumed that they vaporized in the explosion. The briskness of the wind and the weightlessness of the plunge from that doomed aircraft as they leapt into the Atlantic void was exhilarating. The explosion of the puddle jumper, rigged with a untraceable plastic explosive, destroyed any and everything behind them. Of course, 76 has died before, and nobody this time was going to believe it – unless they faked routine audio of them casually talking moments before denotation. In the fog of the midnight Northern Atlantic, they splashdowned on the surface of the ocean and immediately started setting up the rubber dirigible that would help them get to the southern Swedish coast.
They landed, in pitch darkness, around 2am at a pleasant local town, in the mist of a local celebration. Immediately after disembarking, one of the the townspeople scooped up the couple and pushed them into the mass party at the town square. Widowmaker giggled and decided to take the stouty 76 up into her arms and dance.
As they danced in the light of the candles hung around the town square, the shadows of the village houses dancing back and forth among the halogens that the local mayor brought out and was continuously shifting around, they stared into each others eyes, 76's hand on the small of Widowmakers's back and 76 looking warmly into the big, brown soft pools of Amelie's eyes, and as if on cue, both grinned the warmest smile one can see for miles around.
Why did 76 and Widowmaker decide to just leave? It was too much, especially for Amelie. Her humanity was touched, a ripple in a thousand year silent pool for the first time, that ripple the awakening by Solider 76. Details are a bit much – a routine Overwatch mission gone mad, multiple OW and Talon agents massacred by a rogue bombmaster hired by Talon. In the rubble, in the mist of the fire and the flame, Widowmaker was buried , her trigger hand flailing exposed in the air. She knew she was done. All her ( programmed ) life she was made to kill, to send hapless souls to the oarsman of the underworld, to Hades. For all her exposure to death, she wasn't prepared for this. She felt a trickle of something that hadn't even so much as been thought possible for years – fear. She felt the air constrict in her lungs, and the fading of the light. She wasn't sure if she imagined it, or lived it, but she swore as she exhaled her possibly last breath, she screamed "GERA-".
But she felt something, a hand, pull on her. Seeing as the rubble wouldn't budge. So she felt movements in the rocks around her body. She felt a loosening as the rocks and rubble gave way. Slowly but surely pinpricks of dancing light gave way to beams, then light surrounded her. A shadow appeared crouched over her. It was the legendary Jack Morrison. Even as he was in the mist of chaos, she noted with almost an impossibly mocking tone, he still found time to strike a heroic pose. She was immediately sick of it. She fished out her rifle , and shot him with a high powered blast in his visor. He staggered back and she cursed at herself that she missed. She should never miss, even if being fetched out of rubble. She reached for her grappling hook and aimed for a bombed-out structure before 76 and the other Overwatch agents could get a steady bead on her.
As she flew away however, she was surprised over the sudden mantra that appeared in her head: He's cute.
Morrison was still reeling from the shock of being hit in the head with a hi-powered rifle. However, he was able to see Widowmaker going away and noticed 3 things about himself and her: He was slacking letting his guard down trying to rescue someone who he didn't know was friend or foe. Widowmaker basically was slacking also since he was still alive. And as he was able to have a glimpse of her flying away; she had a fat ass.
Widowmaker was furious. How can a man so fucking legendary be so foolish as to strike a pose in the midst of an active combat zone. She was livid that she missed her chance to end him and cause chaos to Overwatch. She was burningly angry, to the point she would get into a mood for days and, one time, snap the neck clean of some unlucky Talon underling for looking at her funny.
She was mad. Livid. Angry.
Also possibly attracted to him.
She couldn't deny that there was attraction. Which seemed ridiculous. The only high she felt was turning a target's head into a fine pink midst. But she knew what she felt on that mission. She felt fear. She was never as close to death as she was before then. She was going to be the one on that boat shepherded to the underworld. But when Solider 76 came, in his ripped camo uniform, and his muscles straining under his skin, the furor of determination as he was lifting rock after rock, the strain on his body just seeming to exclude masculinity, she felt something. Like, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was entranced. She was also wet like a fucking river, which was new and unsettling.
Did the fear unleash something within her?
She paced her room in the Talon blacksite. She couldn't eat or sleep, spending more time then ever at the range. When that Talon underling's boss came to complain about his lost employee, she aimed her rifle at him and cocked back the bolt. It was all he needed to understand Widowmaker was willing, in that very moment, to live up to her name. Again.
Morrison was still in shock. During the mission debrief, he was numb with shock. He came to see Widowmaker, one of Overwatch's most wanted terrorists, and he managed to live after getting shot in the fucking face. He was fiddling with his visor, a shockproof and bulletproof one, that was almost destroyed. It was never supposed to take a shot from Widowmaker at point-blank range. Other then some temporary blurriness, he was fine. He was keeping composure on the outside. As the leader of the worlds most prominent anti-terrorist organization, he couldn't betray fear, he was the standard that everyone in Overwatch looked to. On the inside he was shitting bricks. He knew that that was Widowmaker's off day ( buried under rubble will do that to you ) or else he wouldn't be sitting in that debrief. He knew Widowmaker would hunt him down – she couldn't let this go, judging by her near-perfect kill/not-killed ratio. But the one thing on his mind he couldn't let go of most – her. She had such deep-brown eyes, even when in cold fury. When she flew away, he was able to see her supple, graceful, lithe form. Which confused him and entranced him all the more, because her ass was one of the fattest he had ever seen. Honestly, he was surprised she was able to move so gracefully with that fat distribution. And her thighs were some of the most solid he had ever seen. Thinking about it, it was like someone cut two people in half and stuck the lean top half and thick bottom half together. How she was able to move like that was astounding. Basically, she had a rear like his fathers '87 Cadillac. It felt weird to think of one of the world's most deadliest and prolific terrorist's like this – but he was entranced.
Amelie resolved to kidnap him, to try and see why and how she felt the way she did about him. And then kill him. She knew that there was going to be a Overwatch mission in Norway to crash a Talon base – she was going to bet that 76 was going to be there to lead point on the operation. Perfect.
When the operation date came, she knew that as the leader, he was going to be far off in the woods. Talon's base was about 70 miles from Norway's capital, on a worn off camp trail. Most of the base of operations was underground, so Overwatch was simply going to call in a shock air strike to blow a hole into the base and let Overwatch agents rappel into the base. As predicted, 76 was alone, coordinating the strike with Norway's air force about 10 miles from the strike zone. The Overwatch strike team was on ATV's about a mile away from the strike zone. She was two miles away, from him, with a stealth helicopter she "borrowed" on autopilot standby. She hiked about 1 ½ miles to him and set up a post half a mile away. He was aware Talon agents might be on standby, but according to intelligence, Talon was shifting resources to another Nordic country and was about to start Phase 1 of their transfer today, but due to loss of revenue ( thanks to Overwatch ), they had to take a loss with security. Widowmaker called the plane over and latched on to it while it made a pass. Then it covered the last half mile, hugging the earth and all lights off to blend in with the pitch-dark area around it ( bless the night, Widowmaker muttered to herself as the wind surrounded her ). With night-vision goggles, she aimed her grappling hook ( which she attached as support to the plane ) and waited for her target to come up.
She counted backwards from ten.
Morrison barely felt anything – the only problem her was currently having was correcting his Norwegian adverbs with the strike pilots as he was describing his location and wind patterns.
Nine.
She felt the wind on her face and felt alive – these emotions were new but they felt amazing.
Eight.
The map that 76 was fungling with was about to run out of energy, but he knew he had to get those coordinates down, along with real-time visualization of the terrain. If not, they might as well pack up and go home.
Seven.
The Overwatch strike team on the ground was prepping, checking magazines for bullets, night vision goggles, last minute touches to tactical gear and weapons.
Six.
The Talon base was brimming with defenses 200 feet underground – of course Widowmaker told her handler about the potential raid ( how she knew she kept that to herself ), and Talon called on every operative in Northern Europe to huddle at the base to not only murder every Overwatch agent that came above or below, but collect valuable intel.
Five.
The Norwegian air strike team was about 60 miles inbound. Sleek, supersonic bombers that traveled low and hugged the earth to avoid potential Talon radar, each of the five bombers came equipped with bunker-buster bombs to basically void the need for the Overwatch strike team. But this was Talon, and Overwatch didn't take any chances.
Four.
The pilots primmed the switches for the bombs. Lasers were turned on to aim at the exact coordinates that 76 was going to provide. Last-minute coordinates were needed in case Talon decided to pull any last minute tricks and Overwatch needed a bombing run closer or farther away from where they initially thought to drop.
Three.
Widow leaned in against the wind, priming her aim for the ready.
Two.
76 could almost swear he felt something, but the pilots need-
One.
She pulled the trigger and let the grappling hook fly. Speeding at over 300 mph, it opened up and snatched Solider 76 away. 76 was still and then was flying. The plane, as programmed, went immediately upwards, to about 65,000 feet in a matter of 2 minutes.
The strike force was waiting for the call to drop. It never came.
The strike team was waiting for the bombs to drop. They never did.
Widowmaker smiled as she clung to the side of the plane, and it climbed further up. The exhilaration – it was a new feeling, but it was amazing. 76 was trailing about a good half mile from the plane, out of the way of the exhaust, flailing in the wind. His mind couldn't process what was happening. One second he was in the woods about to call in strike coordinates, the next second he was snatched by something, the second after that he was rapidly climbing up into space. He couldn't think properly and was slowly starting to struggle to breathe. At 50,000 feet he passed out.
Widowmaker was trained to lessen her intake of oxygen – she would be fine up to 100,000 feet if it wasn't for the possible ice. She pressed a button on a remote attached to her wrist, and one of the bay doors opened. She used the sliptrail to blow herself down and use a secondary grappling hook to grab onto a clamp inside the plane. She retracted the rope and settled on the inside, then made her way to the pilot's seat but not before she set up a large fall cushion on the inside of the staging area next to the bay doors. She took the controls and turned off the autopilot.
She went full throttle. Then she flew down faster then Solider 76 falling, and turned the plane over to its side. According to her calculations, this should work. Solider 76 fell as she temporary shut off the engines. The plane started to fall, but 76 fell faster. He fell, straight through the open bay doors, into the fall cushion. Then she turned on the engines, and righted the plane level ad she opened the throttle again and flew off to the south.
76 woke up. He was bounded by steel cables to a metal chair. The facility he woke up in was large and gray. It was vacant, with no windows. If bureaucratic nightmares came to life, this would be the place they would come to life in. It was barely lighted, especially dim. Noted was the fact it was clean, clean cement all over save for one door in the middle of the room, which must have been as a football field.
It was empty save for a Widowmaker, cooliy looking at him from about 5 feet away in a metal gray slightly rusted chair.
"Fuck you." 76 muttered groggily.
Widowmaker just smirked. And stared with such a eagerness 76 could only imagine that she was imagining slow torture.
"Solider, do you know why you are hear?"
"Easy. Because I'm a Overwatch operative and you want to destabilize the world by kidnapping me and hoping - "
"Shutup," she purred. "If I wanted to, you would be nothing but a fine mist by now. And I'm certain you know this. Solider, if you -"
"Look, Widowmaker - "
"Call me Amelie."
"Look, bitch, you -"
A purple hand flew and curtly slapped him. "Please, for some reason, I have a feeling towards you. I'm feeling certain things, and don't make me wonder how I would feel killing you. Very. Very. Slowly."
"Fuck. You. Bitch."
A sigh erupted from her lips. "Look. Solider, see that bulge in your pants? Please stop. I know you must have some attraction to me. Drop the act. Yeah I've killed plenty of people, but you can't deny the attraction," and while he was bound to the chair, she walked over to him, sat on his lap and kissed him.
He tried to turn his head away, but he gave in ( he wasn't proud of it, but as soon as she sat her fluffy ass on his laps, it was over ). And they passionately kissed for what seemed like forever. She kissed him all over and decided to ramp it up. Feet still bound, she cleared the rope from his thighs. With a look, she asked " Do you mind," she asked, while her hand was laying gently on his thigh. With a curt nod, she undid his utility belt and pulled down his pants. What she found was shocking.
His penis basically was as thick and long as her forearm. It pulsed and throbbed, almost menacing. No wonder this guy is so confident, she thought to herself as she pulled it out. It was throbbing and thick. It looked like a damn snake, veins adoring the broadside of it, and veins as multicolored as a subway line. He looked down intently , wondering if it was all some trap and she was going to stab him in the balls. Instead, she firmly gripped the shaft of his penis and started moving her hands up and down. The penis was difficult to grip, on account of it being large and basically a baseball bat, but her blue hands went to work. Without prompt, almost on instinct, she placed Jack Morrison's dick in her mouth. She puckered her lips as she sucked him. She puckered as she pulled the dick from her mouth and moaned, still stroking him.
As she reckoned with that odd wetness in between her legs, she decided to shove a hand down her suit and fondle her clitoris. The other hand she stroked him up and down, up and down. She put her mouth on the tip and rubbed her tongue against the top in a circle pattern, then sucked, then circle, then sucked. She looked up, and Solider 76 had his eyes closed, face held in postponed ecstasy. She rubbed his dick up and down, and further worked on her clit with the other hand, stroking her labia and fingering her cervix ever so gently. She repeatedly opened her mouth and let tendrils of saliva drip from the tip of his dick, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She rubbed the tip of her tongue slowly over the glans, and Solider 76's face momentarily twitched as she caressed the shaft.
She used her tongue to lick the tip and then trace down the shaft to his balls. His balls were wrinkled and dark, much darker then the rest of his body. She opened her mouth and with great difficulty, shoved his large golf ball sized testicles into her mouth. She used her tongue to go into the ridges and creases, then ever so slightly wander into the taint once in a while. She adjusted her head and looked up. 76 was sweating bullets, eyes closed, with a fierce look of determination. Gargling his balls, she purred.
She decided that wasn't enough.
She stood up, sticky fingers and all, and sat on his erect dick.
She let it slowly slide in, and her brain, not used to that type of pleasure that didn't involved killing, went into overdrive. She basically threw her brain into a vat of endorphins and it took over her body.
76's dick filled her up, and expanded her. The best part was that it was curved, so it reached places she didn't even know existed, and gave her immense pleasure. Just to be sure, she touched herself while passionately kissing him and thrusting into him. She felt so good, she felt so free, she felt her legs shake more then a victim in a deadly chokehold.
She honestly thought she was going to die from the joy of it all.
Somehow, someway, they both came at the same time. Feeling him cum in her added more to the orgasm she was feeling, alighting new neural connections long thought dead.
She gasped and dismounted from him, suit asunder, leaking semen. He was still bound, but with a floppy wet dick and toned thighs exposed.
They both looked at each other, shocked at what happened. Then slowy, but surely, both grinned at each other.
It took a while for Solider 76 and Widowmaker to warm up to each other equally. They sat and talked for hours – some about how great the sex was, some about other things. Such as their lives, where they grew up. Morrison reminisced about Indiana and how he used to support the Pacers as a kid, and every summer, his family would travel to Indianapolis to see the Indy 500, with Widowmaker staring with this new feeling, affection. 76 would return the same as Widowmaker would talk about the fractured remnants of what she could remember from her childhood. Fragments of memories of summers in the chateau with a loving family in le Midi, sipping on wine and playing in the wine garden.
They talked and talked, until Widowmaker realized something. She was basically a assassin , he was a goody old boy for heroics and charm and all that jazz. What would she gain keeping him here forever? She had a job, and probably half of Overwatch is combing all corners of the world looking for him. What was she thinking keeping him here? As she looked as his grizzled war scar and warm eyes bookending an infectious smile, she came up with a plan.
It was easy.
Yes, Widowmaker did kidnap Solider 76. She kidnapped him and tried to get him brainwashed like she was. But, being Solider 76, he resisted and managed to escape, detaining Widowmaker along the way. Overwatch found Solider 76 bruised and bloodied with a barely conscious Widowmaker draped in a heavy tunic to mask her from Talon operative. Odd place really, being as they were found in a quaint coffee bar in Instanbul, but made sense since it was known Talon had a heavy underworld presence there.
From there, he was flown to the UK to debrief Overwatch staff with the intel he collected. Widowmaker was also flown to the UK, to be tried and probably put away in a supermax prison somewhere on a desolate island in the Pacific.
It was all a blur. So many questions and paperwork, tested for bio and chemical weapons, any omnic particles or parasites that would have unknowingly be put into him he had to be tested for also.
It was at one meeting where they were going over the Sweden debacle – since 76 was kidnapped the mission didn't go through in time. After Overwatch scrambled to reschedule the raid, by the time they were organized, Talon moved most of their major equipment and confidential plans, and no one knew how. As they were talking amongst themselves, 76 stood up and cleared his throat.
"Ladies and gentlemen. To be blunt, my kidnapping was a blow to this organization, and all the hard work and resources we invested in the Talon investigations. I honestly still am not sure why I was kidnapped and I want to see if I can pursue other leads. When Widowmaker gets pursued to be tried at the Hague, I want to fly her there myself."
A quiet stillness filled the room.
He continued. " I know some of you are worried that Widowmaker might try something to hurt me, but I have a plan. I want to talk to her, see why she kidnapped me. Probably get some intel that can be useful. Besides, she had been checked for any and all weapons, and is gonna be locked up pretty secure in that puddle jumper. Let me talk to her. Chances are knowing she is going to spend the rest of her life in a supermax prison is going to get her to talk."
Everyone seemed impressed with the idea, and as the leader of Overwatch and kidnapped by one of the world's most prolific terrorists, it made sense to let him run with the idea. So the Overwatch main staff approved the plan.
So he boarded the puddle jumper with a heavily detained Widowmaker. Her face unreadable, jaw clenched, as she was escorted by Overwatch guards in cybertronic locks on her feet and hands, and neck ( she was known to kill a man with nothing but the motion of her skull ). She looked up at the bleary London 2am sky, and a Overwatch agent doing prisoner transfer forms could almost swear, from about 100 feet away in dim lighting of the Overwatch prisoner facility, Widowmaker smiled.
It was relatively easy getting the plastic explosive snuck onto the puddle jumper. 76 was a experienced combat solider who knew how and where to sneak items if needed be ( that he learned from Reyes, he thought as he grimaced ). From there, all it took was taking off, and in flight, setting up the recording of a earlier fake conversation to the planes comms while 76 unlocked Widowmaker's restraints and gave her the parachute he was able to sneak onboard. The plane already set to autopilot, they put on there chutes and opened the doors. With the dirigible strapped to 76, he turned around and held Widowmaker's face. The pleasant blue of her face shone in the light from the planes instruments. Grabbing her ample ass, he shoved her closer for a kiss as they both threw themselves off the plane.
Back in the Swedish village, Widowmaker leaned her head into Solider 76's frame and slowly danced with him in the clear moonlight of the halogen and fire lit village.
Widowmaker and Solider 76 acquiesced well to Swedish village life. Both were expert foragers, so they made a life for themselves with fake ID's and Swedish social security numbers. They moved to another village about 20 miles from where they landed, on foot, and moved into a quaint two bedroom apartment above a bakery shop. Widowmaker looked into her off-the-books stash of cash she usually kept around ( away from Talon, Overwatch, or anybody else's prying eyes ) , which would keep them for about a year. 76, working since he was young on the farm, wouldn't wait for that cash to run out. He looked for work on nearby farms. Widowmaker, being literally blue, decided for the best to stay at home and not risk getting exposed by the locals.
For the first time in her life, she was without anything to do.
She wandered around the apartment and browsed through TV, and using a secure VPN, browsed online. She was bored. She decided to go downstairs to the bakery.
She wandered into the bakery shop. In Talon, she was on a strict regiment of misery and veggies – Talon wasn't keen on their very top assassin indulging on sweets and life itself. Here, she could do whatever she wanted.
The bakery smelled of warmth and flour and sweets, with an almost sickeningly gentle aroma of fruits. It was open , but small. The glass front showcased all the the fresh baked goods for the day. She wandered to the front, where a baker was rolling some dough and manning a oven. He was with a thick mustache and muscular arms., with sunkissed skin. Odd, she thought. What is a man who is obviously traveled doing here? For a brief second, he reminded her of a target she killed in a Caribbean island long ago. Was it St. Kitts? Why was he here? For the first time, she feared the ghosts of those who she killed was going to come and haunt her.
In Swedish, he asked her how she was. Coming out of her trance, she snapped back to reality and escaped her trance. Ma'am why is your skin blue? Oh, allergic reaction to shellfish. Oh, well what would you like? She zoned out. She barely knew what she liked, besides killing and Jack. She was never asked such questions in her past life. She stood, mouth slightly open, legs slightly crooked, trying to process this question. Seeing her confusion, he suggested the Danish. Excellent quality, just baked about half an hour ago. She decided why not and the baker offered her a free sample. He reached behind the counter and took out an almost steaming Danish and placed it gently in her hand.
She took a bite.
And she audibly gasped.
It felt amazing. It was so good. It felt like, well like Jack was in her mouth. She was aghast with pleasure. She actually stared to tear up.
"I'll take all that you have."
"Ma'am that is 100."
She threw all of her money on the counter. Without another word, he started packaging up the danishes in piles of Baker's dozen boxes and gave her the stack of danishes.
She went upstairs, and in pure pleasure, vacuumed up all the Danishes in about 5 minutes.
This was her routine for about a month. She would wait until 76 came left for work, then go to the shop and buy about 2 bakers dozens worth of baked goods. She would gorge herself silly on them, go back for seconds, and then watch TV, or preferably, read, until 76 came back from work ( he managed to get a job at a Swedish farm about 10 miles from where they lived ).
About a month after they faked their deaths, Widowmaker passed by the mirror. She noticed that he stomach actually showed up before the rest of her. It was odd. She went back thinking it was a defect of the mirror itself, but tested it on another mirror. No, she actually developed a tummy.
And she was outgrowing her clothes. She went up about 3 sizes and found out that the costs of bigger bras were insanely outrageous. She noticed that her hips stuck out of chairs more – and dammit she would get stuck in the apartment handled chairs. Stretch marks appeared everywhere, especially her thighs and chest. When making love to 76, he smiled even more then ever, but was also more prone to want to get on top. He always said he wanted to be there, but she suspected he couldn't support the weight anymore.
Another month passed. She should have looked for work, but Talon and Overwatch would have broken down the doors the moment her blue skin was caught. She passed by her mirror again and what she saw shocked her.
She most definitely had a tummy now. It stuck out big and menacing, as if she had twins. But her ass grew huge. And it was dimpled with so much cellulite. It was round and looked like a shelf was sticking out of her back. Her thighs were jiggly and so big. Her butt was big before sure, but now it was ginormous. When she held it and let it drop, it jiggled for about ten seconds. Her boobs, which she didn't usually have much of , was amazing. She racked her memory for her new bra size ( she was always shopping for bigger bras now) , and it hit her like a dump truck.
She was a 34DD.
She used to be a 34B.
She looked like a thicker version of a pinup model. But almost everything when to her ass, thighs, hips, and tits. She couldn't believe that was what she looked like. Her ass just stuck out, and her hips seemed so dominant.
She almost cried, but then she felt so liberated.
She was finally establishing everything on her own terms, including how her body looked like. She loved the fact she looked so voluptuous. She was so free.
When 76 came home, she hugged him and put his hands on her boobs, now as big as her head. He stood, puzzled.
Why didn't you let me know I was gaining weight?
It seemed like something rude to point out. Besides…
Besides?
I like it. Theres more of you to hold -
And before he could say another word, she immediately ushered him into the bedroom.
She stripped down hims and her. She looked lovely naked and Jack immediately carried her curvy form onto the bed.
He kissed on her neck, and looked her deep in her still-pool brown eyes. He kissed her up and down on her neck, and kept up that rotation for 5 minutes. Then he twirled his fingers on her areolas,still kissing her neck, then kissed his way down to her nipples. He sucked on her left nipple and swirled his tongue around her right areola at the same time. He sucked on her and proceeded to stroke her pussy, moving his mouth to her other breast and sucking and swirling on her nipple. He inserted 3 fingers into her pussy and dipped them in and out to the rhythms of her moans of ecstasy. He took out his three fingers and started whirling his finger around her clitoris. At first he made wide circles around her clitoris, then slowly but surely shrunk the circles until he started grazing the clitoris. Widowmakers legs started shaking but she wanted more, and 76 knew it. The extra jiggle of her thighs and the deep, cute dimples on cellulite on her asscheeks just turned him on more. He took out his cock and slapped it against the thigh of Widowmaker, and rubbed it up and down. She keep on moaning to keep on playing with her pussy, to keep it up, please.
He kept on going,
And going,
And going,
And going,
And going,
And going,
For about 2 hours.
By now Widowmaker had already went through about 5 orgasms and she thought she was going to cry or die but each orgasm was a dopamine hit, and at this point she was a crack addict.
He opened her legs and feasted on her pussy.
He used the tip of his tongue to traced the alphabet onto her clit. Then he rubbed up and down the inner labia, and fingered her at the same time. Then he proceeded to go roguish and suck on her clitoris and trace the alphabet at the same time, taking deep breaths in between each long stacked suck ( which is basically sucking the clit repeatedly for ten seconds then pausing ). He proceeded to do this for about 20 minutes, and Widowmaker could almost swear she she saw heaven.
Then he stopped. She looked up, spent, exhausted, but almost as if she had a death wish, mumbled " Thats all you got?" while praying that that was all he had.
He had more. He rammed his forearm dick into her and proceeded to do long, deep strokes into her. She couldn't see straight, her guts were getting re-arraigned to the point she thought her stomach moved into her head, and she was getting stretched out, and her brain was basically finding new ways to cope with the pleasure that her body was experiencing. He stroked her for about half an hour, until he came, and she finally felt the warm, pleasant bliss of his cum squirming into her with every pump. He dismounted and collapsed into a heap next to her. It didn't register thought; after he came, she passed out – she couldn't take it anymore.
When she woke up, she had a five course meal on her bed, with a giddy Solider 76 awaiting her.
He gave her his take – she likes the new weight she put on, he likes it too. Why not increase the weight gain until she tired of it? Without another word, she picked up a slice of roast beef and began to clear her plate.
Widowmaker's assets just kept on growing like a fairy wish gone mad. Her ass grew to twice its size, and the dimples it accrued grew deeper and more pronounced. 76 occasionally liked to pour honey into them and suck them out of the pools. Her chest grew to a 36GG, and her tummy barely grew, but her waist actually shrunk ( a folly of genetics ) and the fat just kept on being added to her thighs and ass. The shape was immense. Her ass was so round and so perky. 76 made sure to bring extra ( healthy ) food high in good fats so her arteries didn't completely shut down.
Her added weight made sex more awesome – the added weight of her could be felt on his dick, and he couldn't wait to cum in her every night. He would feed her while fucking her and she loved the fact one day she bend over and her pants ripped from her girth. She loved the weight, she loved being free.
One day, as she was relaxing over coffee, reading a newspaper, she figured, how much would getting preggo get her bigger – and smiled a warmest grin , the glare of her visage illuminated by the sunset over the Swedish village.