[$]Orihime: Massive Mother-to-Be (Patreon)

--- Pregnancy 1 ---

“Ichigo? Do you think I’m getting too fat?” Orihime asked one day, into her 6 month of her first pregnancy. She waddled into the room slowly, swaying from side to side. Her belly jutted out in front of her, melon breasts resting on top comfortably thanks to a very large, very custom bra. She wore a pink shirt, but it did little to cover most of her belly. Round was probably the best and only fitting word to describe her.

“What?! Not at all!” Ichigo responded with his familiar, fiery exuberance. His eyes ran up and down his wife’s body. She had gained a solid 50 pounds, exploding her attributes in size. Yet, he felt more attracted to her than ever before. Orihime was a kind, loving woman; the perfect motherly example. So perfect was Orihime that Ichigo was desperate to provide for her above and beyond what he normally would. Bringing her food, rubbing her feet, comforting her when her hormones went crazy. What normally might have been a bother for a husband was a joy for Ichigo. Through it all, Orihime bloomed further and further into a maternity idol. “Has someone been teasing you about your weight?!” He stood up in a flash, eager to defend his wife’s honor. The defender and warrior in him hardly ever rested, ready to come out and save the people around him. Though, he quickly calmed down when he saw Orihime laugh gently.

“No, no.” She waved a hand before waddling towards him. Her stomach shook mesmerizingly back and forth. “I just want to make sure that you are happy.” She spoke softly, her voice hitting Ichigo’s ears as a delicate puff of wind. He met her halfway, extending a strong arm towards her. She took it and was pulled into a loving embrace. His hands traveled the swell of her belly, tracing her love handles and baby bump. It was a lovers touch. Not covetous or lustful, but instead tender and nurturing. She blushed, feeling in physical capacity just how much Ichigo loved her. She leaned back, letting him hold her weight. It felt great to be swept off her feet, despite being a heavily pregnant cow of a woman. Ichigo held her just tightly enough. His wife’s ass, large and pillowy, rested on his thighs. Her stomach flooded out before him, rising high into the air with a little roll of fat beneath it. Her breasts were big enough, in this position, to touch the underside of her gently rounding face. Ichigo held his wife, softly rubbing her belly.

Quite unexpectedly, Ichicgo leaned in and kissed the nape of her neck. “Let’s have another, after this.” He whispered. Orihime could only smile.

--- Years Later, Pregnancy Number ??? ---

“Ichigo! Ichigo. . .whooo. . .whooo. . .they are. . .aaahhh. . .kicking again.” Orihime called, trying vainly to reach her stomach. Orihime was having quintuplets this time, perhaps her most active set of children in some time. Constantly they danced and shook within her massive stomach. It was both pleasant and painful. Thick, soft, padded arms tried to stretch past voluminous, milkbag breasts, but were unable to. Ichigo and Orihime had made good on their promise to have more children, exceeding the first child by an almost unknown fact. Constantly pregnant, Orihime had come to love the feelings, developments, and symptoms of pregnancy more than the rhythms of normal life. The massive, strange cravings. Her body constantly growing. Her hormones flooding her body at the slightest stimuli. It was all as magical now, at pregnancy 100, as it was when she had her first child. Perhaps, it was even more pleasurable now, since she had such a history to compare it too. She could list and name, by number, the pregnancies where she had gained the most weight, been the most hormonal, or had the most children. That history made every subsequent pregnancy more interesting.

“Coming, Orihime!” Ichigo called, racing into the room with plates of food. The cure for excited belly-kicking, the pair had long since discovered, was food and deep belly rubs. Ichigo kissed his wife’s cheek, placed the plates on her belly, and went to work kneading and rubbing Orihime’s stomach. Granted, this was the cure for most of the “problems” that assailed the gratuitously gravid Orihime. It was a cure that had brought other changes though. Orihime was large, huge, immense even. The unbroken string of pregnancies had fattened and filled her out to a point of awe. She easily filled a bed and a half with her bulk, rendered immobile from both her pregnancy and her own fat. She wore a simple nightgown, expertly sewn by Ichigo, that billowed and flowed out from her like a tent. Practically no other clothing would fit. Her breasts needed two hands and all of Ichigo’s strength to lift. They were so filled with milk and fat that they constantly jiggled, every motion of Orihime’s sending them into a new frenzy. Far below her breasts, her butt supported her massive frame. It was both her support and her cushioning. It rolled up behind her even, supporting and easing her back. Lastly, but perhaps most important, was Orihime’s stomach.

Despite the pregnancies and hyper-weight gain, Orihime’s stomach had stayed wonderfully smooth. Huge and immense, but perfectly round. It dominated her bed, forcing her pillar legs to be held outwards in order to give it sufficient room. The upper portion of her stomach was a taut, pregnancy belly which rested on a cloud of fat below it. Both Ichigo and Orihime tried to contain their love of her belly, treating it as just another part of her, but both loved it in a way that bordered on fetishitic. Ichigo stroked and patted the immense wall of fat. Thanks to her large booty and legs, Orihime rose a little above Ichigo’s head. She towered above him like a goddess or a statue, a pregnancy idol which could bestow blessings on women. “How’s this? Too soft or too hard?” He asked, his nimble fingers sinking into her flabby sides. For someone whose greatest skills were wielding a blade and brawling, Ichigo had a surprisingly gentle touch. Yet another piece of him that he tried to keep buried from the rest of the world. Beneath the stoic persona, there beat the heart of a caring husband and lover.

“Oh, Ichigo. . .” Orihime’s eyes watered even as she devoured the food in front of her. Pregnancy hormones ran swiftly through her mind, making her teary eyed and weepy. “Sniff. . .you’re the best.” She said before rapaciously devouring one of the plates. Hunger, cravings were such a part of her now that she hardly stopped eating when food was placed before her. Talking between bites was manageable, but truly she wished to constantly be eating once the cravings waxed fully. She was a preggo blob, and one that fully enjoyed her role. “I’ve never. . .oooohhh. . .felt such. . .oh!” Her thoughts carried away for a moment as a sharp kick stole her attention. Feeling under a massive breast, she rubbed her stomach with a pudgy arm and palm. Her body had grown such that most of it was unreachable to her, save for the tender spot just under her boobs. It was her favorite place. She rubbed and fondled herself, lightly pinching at her fat. She tilted her head to the side, lost in the feeling of softness. Her neck and chin rolls bunched together as the hyper-pregnant woman settled into a dreamy state, touching and rubbing her upper belly.

Ichigo was content to let the conversation settle. There was always time for more talk. He was simply happy that Orihime had calmed down. He watched as her massive stomach rose and fell with each breath, her body rippling slightly. The plates on her chest, tucked and snuggled under her left boob started to slide off. Trying not to disturb Orihime, Ichigo kicked out a foot. He caught the first plate easily and tried to maneuver to catch the second. The plate clanked loudly, ultimately settling into place. Ichigo smiled, despite the strained effort on his part. It was almost perfect, save that the noise jolted Orihime awake again. “Oh! Sorry Ichigo, we were talking! Total mommy-brain moment.” Her jerking awaked bounced her stomach into her husband, sending him and plates to the floor. “Are you still here?” She asked, trying to see past her massive stomach. Her body lurched to the side as she tried to find her husband. All that was before her was pale fat, lightly covered by a nightgown. The bed underneath her creaked dangerously, her fat pressing down on its weaker points. As a space cadet, Orihime had never had the greatest awareness of her weight and her physicality. Fat leaked over the side of the bed as Orihime slowly started to tip over. “Ichigo-wooa-wooaaaa.” She called as she tried to correct her slide. Her fat, tree trunk thick arms rolled in meaty circles. The world was starting to turn sideways as she fell further and further. Despite her efforts, Orihime was about to cast her 1000-plus-pound body to the floor. Then everything halted.

“I’m. . .uggh. . .here.” Ichigo said, his arms spread wide to catch his falling wife. “How about we. . .errg. . .keep you in bed.” he grunted. Fat, soft yet heavy filled and overfilled his arm span. One of his wife’s breasts bounced and flopped on top of his head, while her love handles entombed his arms in their mass. He was even forced to drop to one knee to compensate for her girth. Yet, bit by bit, he worked his way back up. The bed groaned again as weight was placed back onto it. It was hardly meant to hold even half of Orihime’s exceptional, awe inspiring weight. Yet, it bore it dependably. The bloated, immobile woman smiled as she felt her butt make full contact with the mattress again. She, coping for the minor scare, patted her stomach as if to check that her gestating children were safe and secure. Finally, the bed slammed back into place, with Orihime’s fat jiggling side to side as the final proof of her ill-timed adventure with gravity.

“Oooohhh, Ichigo.” She cried, getting weepy again. “You are always here to save me.” she clasped her hands together as best she could, her flabby biceps pushing her breasts up and into her many chins. “I. . .sniff. . .don’t deserve you.” Tears fell, prodded out by fickle yet wonderful hormones. Her vision blurred and she struggled to get her heavy arms up in order to wipe her face off. It was so hard to move sometimes, overwhelmed by her own hugeness and emotions.

“You probably deserve better.” Ichigo said, standing on his toes to kiss Orihime. Both of their orange hair shone in the light of the room, blazingly bright. Orihime turned as best she was able, her lips finding his. Ichigo buried his face in his wife’s fat, round one. Excited by the activity and Orihime’s hormones, her children started kicking furiously again. Between smooches, the massive mother-to-be would wince and try to calm them. She didn’t want to disrupt the moment she was having with her husband, so she let them kick and dance within her stomach. She gasped from time to time, breaking contact with Ichigo. Orihime was the fattest, most hormonal, most pregnant that she had ever been. Yet, she was by far the happiest she had ever been also. She wanted to spend the rest of her life like this: a pregnant blob with a loving and concerned husband. A massive-mother-to-be.