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There was a version of Melissa that would get fucked into the mattress if she walked into Sawyer's bedroom wearing only a towel, and to her intense regret, that version was not her.
"Heya," she said to her brother's BFF and her crush of five years.
He didn't look up from his elaborate gaming setup. "Sup?"
"Can I borrow your shirt?"
"Sure." On screen, lots of things with health bars slowly died. "Don't destroy it."
"It was one time."
"One time too many. I really liked that shirt."
She huffed and walked over to his dresser, above which was a poster of Mercy from Overwatch, the one that he'd gotten a year ago and always made her think of that stupid child-bearing hips meme, and it stung more than it should that she knew she would never look like that. Her tits might get there one day with a lot of luck and maybe some stimulants, but her hips never would. She was just too narrow.
It was funny. When she was twelve, she had been so sure that she never, ever, ever wanted to have babies. So sure that nothing could change her mind. Babies were boring and gross and her friends were the weirdos for playing house with pretend husbands and imaginary kids.
Shortly after, her stupid brother had brought home Sawyer Novak from his gaming meetup, and Melissa's notebooks had been covered in hearts around initials and 'Mrs. Melissa Novak' and names that would sound perfect for their future family of four.
At seventeen, she was starting to realize how hopeless her crush was. Sawyer consistently gravitated towards a type that wasn't her, would never be her, and could not be swayed towards her. Even if she randomly upgraded another three cup sizes.
Instead, she was little-sister-zoned to the highest degree, which not even walking into his bedroom in nothing but a towel could change.
"Game over..."
She fished her favorite of his shirts out of his drawer—one that was a little big, even on him, and pulled it over her head, letting the towel drop, not really caring if her scrawny ass was on display for all of two seconds.
He was busy.
"Melissa?!"
Or maybe not busy enough, given the way his voice cracked on her name. Probably out of shock.
"Huh?" She glanced over her shoulder to find him goggling at her. "What's wrong?"
"Uh." He cleared his throat. It was hard to tell in this light, but she thought he might be... blushing? Hoarsely, "Wasn't expecting you to change here."
She blinked once, twice, three times. "I didn't think you cared?"
"You... didn't think I'd care if a girl started changing in my room? While I'm in it?" he asked, flummoxed.
"Well, I'm not really a 'girl' to you, am I?" she said sourly. After years of dropping hints that she was into him to exactly no effect, that was about how she felt. "Just Mike's annoying little sister."
"Uh, no." His eyes dropped to where the hem of his shirt fell, and the towel pooled around her ankles. "Still a girl. Do you—... Are you—...?"
She browsed his bookshelf while she waited for him to finish—a collection of manga and fantasy novels, with a little section dedicated to collector's edition game guides. She selected the first volume of the only romcom series he had and wandered over to his bed, flopping into it, feeling the cloth settle into the crack of her scrawny ass.
He groaned softly, then said, "Never mind," as he went back to gaming.
"Man, what the hell?" she heard me of his teammates shout over the headphones. "Get your head in the game!"
"Yeah, yeah," Sawyer muttered, rough and put-upon, and then proceeded to fail spectacularly at his next three rounds.
"You're really not at the top of your game, are you?" she observed as he tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was one of those players that sometimes streamed absurd challenge runs to show off his raw skill. She hadn't known he was capable of losing three times in a row.
"And whose fault is that?" He sounded frustrated. Looked it, too.
Seeing as she hadn't been privy to the rest of the game, she just shrugged. "Yours?"
"Fuck." He shot her a dark look that quickly slid behind her. "Kinda. I guess. I have my reasons."
She cocked an eyebrow, challenging.
"There is a really hot girl in my bed, wearing basically nothing," he bit out, and turned back to the screen. "Sorry for being too horny to think."
"You think I'm hot?" she blurted, face burning and heart racing. And pussy wet, but it had been since she walked in.
He clapped his hand over his mouth with a wince. Muffled, "Shitfuck."
She glanced at his lap and barely swallowed a gasp. The size of his trapped erection made her insides convulse in a mixture of fear and desire.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Melissa gulped her courage. "Well. Um. That's a shame. That you're too horny to think, I mean."
He slumped in his seat, looking like he was in pain.
"I've, uh... got the cure?" Smooth. Real smooth. "I mean. I bet it would get better if I... held onto a couple of l-loads for you...?"
The fact that she only stuttered once was a miracle, but didn't make it any less embarrassing. In her fantasies (and she had had a lot of fantasies), she delivered the line with a flirty wink, her miraculously huge double-Ds shoved in his face. In reality, she barely managed it on a squeak, and her B-cups were buried in his quilt.
"...Am I dreaming?" he asked, somewhat helplessly.
She shrugged, just as helpless. "Am I?" Then, "What... what would you do if this was a dream?"
"Fuck you," he said instantly. His eyes were glued to what she now realized was her ass.
"Then, uh." She gulped, pressing her thighs together. "Let's say it's a dream. Your dream."
He got up, and she bit her lip, winded, as she saw his bulge clearer. Was... was she ovulating right now? Was that why her ovaries felt like this?
He paused by the bedside. Softly, "What would I be doing if it was your dream?"
She gulped, feeling more wet gush out of her in anticipation. There was no reason not to tell him. "F-fucking me."
He groaned, like she'd said something straight from his fantasies, instead of the other way around. His big hand caressed her tight buttock, gave it a squeeze that made her squeal into his pillow, then used it to nudge her up onto her knees.
When he'd settled behind her, he traced her folds with the tip of his finger. Raw, he asked, "Is it—are you always this wet?"
"Only around you," she took her mouth out of the pillow to say, only to gasp when he nudged her clit. It was the first time anyone else had ever touched her there, and the second brush tipped her over the edge into an unexpected orgasm.
"Fuck," he said, sounding awed as she fell apart. His big finger slid inside her spasming pussy, giving her inner muscles something delicious to grip, and he groaned.
She moaned into the pillow as he added a second finger and pumped them inside her virgin walls, and the newness of it all, the friction of something foreign stimulating her entrance, made her come violently in twenty seconds flat.
"Please," she choked out, once she was sure she could keep her volume down. Her womb ached for him. She had never felt more fertile in her life. "Please, please, put it in, Sawyer—"
There was some cursing, the zip of jeans, rustling of clothing, and then something blunt and huge replaced his fingers.
His cock.
All it took was the huge, hot head bumping into her clit and the knowledge that it was Sawyer Novak who was about to shred her V-card to make her come harder than she ever had in her life.
He cussed again, and then, right in the middle of her world-shattering orgasm—he popped her cherry.
Suddenly there was far too much in her skin, no room for his thick shaft or no room for her, her insides trying to squeeze but stretched to their limits around the intrusion relentlessly pushing deeper and deeper, deeper than she'd known anything could go inside her, violating her pristine sanctuary with nothing but heat, heft, and terrifying promise.
"Oh," she said to his pillow, feeling tiny and overwhelmed, and then he grabbed her hips, angled them, and thrust.
Spots flashed in her vision alongside the love note she'd written at thirteen that detailed the list of names they should give their children. She had never sent it to him, but she still thought Nova Novak was a good name for a girl.
She muffled her squeal in his pillow and came again, her entire body shaking apart around his cock.
He fucked into her again and again, raging erection kissing her cervix over and over with the deepest, most carnal promise, half thrusting into her and half using her pussy like a fleshlight. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered to himself, and to her, "Take it, take it, take it."
Melissa took it, coming and sobbing and coming some more.
When he finally came, it was so deep inside her that she screamed. She could feel his hot load coating her womb, could almost feel his little swimmers searching for her eggs.
He left her as soon as he finished, flipping her body over and pulling her legs apart.
"What—" she barely managed to form before he dropped, buried his face in her pussy, and sucked hard on her clit.
He ate her out like he was dying, and only her slick could save him. He ate her out like she was incidental to his ravenous hunger for her pussy. He ate her out like it was for him, not for her, and she shattered on it again, and again, and again, melting for the pool of hot, fertile cum he had left inside her.
She didn't think any human was supposed to have this many orgasms.
She shoved him away with all the strength of a kitten, and he went, and when he resurfaced, he was hard again, even bigger than before.
Mindlessly, she spread her legs for him, too far gone to peak anymore but desperately eager for him to unload in her womb as many times as he physically could.
He groaned, wrecked, and did.
They laid side by side in the aftermath, her shirt shoved all the way up to her throat so he could idly play with her tits while his cum worked its way into her ovaries.
"I was so jealous of your stupid Mercy poster," she mumbled, pillow talk forcing honesty out of her. "I kept thinking about how I'd never look like that, so you'd never think I was hot enough to—" She stopped herself from saying get pregnant, and replaced it with, "—date."
He laughed softly. "Don't worry. You look better. You have since I got it."
"You know that... 'child-bearing hips' meme?"
He swallowed, but he sounded cavalier when he said, "Obviously."
"Those hips what I'm most jealous of." She patted her own narrow hips. "Even if I gain like fifty pounds, they'll never look like that. They'll never be real child-bearing hips."
Sawyer's breath came short and fast for a moment, and he sounded too casual when he said, "Don't sell yourself short. If you got pregnant, you'd show basically instantly, and that's—" He shut his mouth so fast his teeth clicked. "Not. What you meant. Sorry."
A long silence as his words sank in, both of them turning fiery red.
"Wanna get me pregnant so we can see?" she suggested, breathless, like that ship hadn't sailed today.
His dick, still out, twitched and began to harden as his breath got even shorter. "Are you crazy, Mel? You're seventeen. You're my best friend's little sister. If I—did that, I'd be dead."
"If you knocked me up?" she offered, biting her lip. She rubbed just under her bellybutton, where she felt the thick, hot pool of his cum. "Got me pregnant? Made me a mommy? Put a bun in this oven? Sowed some wild oats inside my womb—"
"Fuck."
He was on her and in her in a second, pushing deep into where he'd fucked her loose and ruined her, plundering her body with a purpose that felt like raw abandon.
She couldn't come anymore, but it felt so wonderful she couldn't help but urge him on with little contractions and heels on his ass.
He was almost there when he stuttered to a stop, abdomen twitching with the effort of staying still. "You are on the pill, right?"
She shook her head.
"Fuck," he croaked, buried himself as deep inside her as he could get, and came like a tsunami.
He wasn't kidding about her showing instantly. In two months, her flat belly was notably less flat and her B-cups were looking more like D-cups, and in three months, the shape was unmistakable.
In her eighteenth birthday pictures she was four months pregnant and looked six, and in her wedding photos she was six months pregnant and looked nine.
Eventually, Nova Novak was gladly welcomed into the world, Mike forgave Sawyer, and Sawyer helped Melissa put her new mommy belly to good use, because there were a few more names on that list, and she had never wanted to stop at just one.