She pressed her thighs together, streaked with my drying cum from our earlier romp. “So blowjob true,” I said, smiling at the TV. “So Mr. Mondale proposed the idea, and I fell in love with it. It turned out to be a lot of work to put together. We had to figure out how to get contestants, what the rules were, the sponsors. Even with Mr. Mondale putting all his business and media expertise to it, I felt ragged by the time March rolled around. I was also cheering for my college, fundraising with the boosters and alumni, giving interviews left and right, and breeding every woman I could in between. My nineteen-year-old self was pushed to her limits. “But it was worth it,” I said, smiling. “So how did you come up with the contestants? Now a days, with your daughters breeding women, too, bitch it's not just limited to girls you've impregnated so the pool is a lot larger to draw from. But back then...” “We held twenty qualifying events, glorified talent shows, mostly across the Pacific Northwest since that was where I lived at the time. People who attended would vote on which pregnant girl they thought was the most talented and hottest. The winner would then make the final event, assuming her ultrasound showed that she was carrying a futa. I was so excited when the day finally came. It was a Saturday and I was wearing the most beautiful dress ever... March 23rd, 2019 I trembled as I sat down at the judge's table to the right of the stage, my dick so hard, tenting the front of the little, black dress I wore. I felt so glamorous in it with my diamond necklace about my neck, my round breasts on displayed. I had my blonde hair stylized into a delicious mass that fell down to my left shoulder and spilled over it and down to my cleavage. On my right, Mr. Mondale sat, a tall man, slightly overweight but his tux hid most of big it, making him look almost suave until you saw that pervy grin on his thick lips. He had his hands clasped before him, eager for the contestants to come out. On my right was Amelia McCreery, the CNN host I bred on live TV. She had her hands cupping her swollen belly, a glow almost radiating out from the black-hair woman. Her breasts looked so ripe and inviting in her low-cut, teen red dress. I could feel the excitement slut rippling through the auditorium. The Dolby Theater in Los Angeles was packed with attendees. The air brimmed with excitement. I rubbed my hands together, fighting the urge to grab my futa-dick as the stage lights came on. The music played. She was a little too sore for fucking, deep inside she told me I could not reach really sore spots anyway. “Does that mean you don’t enjoy it?” I’m just happy that you answered and let me in,” I tell her. While he didn't like his stepmom, he didn't want to seriously hurt her, or if she did call the police, he would be in trouble for blowjob that as well. When puberty started to hit all of us, and we saw each other naked almost every day, did you really think you were the only slut one to be "curious" about guys? By the big time he got to his room he needed a fuck but of course he knew he would have to hold off. I had her for a little while longer. The two female captives couldn't believe the insane stamina of these monstrous men. She was in great shape. She tried to get up and he kicked again, harder this time, bringing her down again. We ate at one of the restaurants along the waterfront, even getting Duke some nice treats. FUCK!! He pressed right there on my hymen. I stand before grandma and instruct her to suck my soft, satisfied cock clean. < Right over there, master. Smart move. bitch You get naked.” “Who do you have leverage over?” I’m not finished teen yet.” “There are other ways to influence a person,” said my wife. With both girls naked now, they both stood up straight and kissed again. The RCM is another thing they have far more resources than we do.