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A long time ago on another site, there was a story called “The Pregnancy Promoting Purple Panties” by Huntsman. This story is inspired by that story, although the plot and characters are different.
This story includes themes of consensual cuckolding, interracial sex, impregnation or breeding, cleanup, bi-oral, and a vicar. Oh, and magic. The plot relies on magic. So if any of these themes would reduce your enjoyment of the story, please click away now.
Everyone in this story is an adult.
⁂
“I want to get you something to celebrate, Jenny.”
Peter handed her a cup of tea and slice of toast with plenty of butter and a very thin smear of Marmite. Jenny smiled and Peter realised how monochromatic she was. Her platinum blonde hair and ivory skin shone. And her teeth were so bright that people would think she was American if they didn’t hear her accent.
Of course, that wasn’t entirely fair. She had ice blue eyes and very pink gums around her teeth.
He, in contrast, had mousy brown hair and skin that could best be described as pale pink. What he didn’t have in looks he had to make up for with personality. He had bags of personality.
“What do you want to get me?” She asked in a voice that would fit in on Albert Square.
“That’s why I told you. I’m terrible at presents and have no idea how to celebrate joining the bell ringing team. It’s not like I should get you bells or ropes.”
“Ropes!” She laughed. “Kinky.”
“I didn’t mean…”
But Jenny just smiled.
“I know you didn’t, dear. You’re a real sweety. But I’ll tell you what would be nice, some lingerie. My fishnet bodysuit isn’t fit to wear now. So maybe we should go to Camden and wander around the market for inspiration?”
⁂
Peter always felt like a lottery winner when he held Jenny’s hand.
They walked out of the station and headed towards the market. Jenny browsed, looking at sunglasses and hats that really suited her and made Peter ever more worried that he’d married someone way out of his league.
His mood went from elated to fearful as his anxieties about Jenny leaving him played out in his imagination as they mooched around the market.
As they got to the end of one row of doors they saw a turning they’d not noticed before. They looked at each other and both said they’d like to explore it. There was just one shop entrance on it and it looked different from the rest of the market. The bricks weren’t the same colour and the door looked like it must have been at least a century old, with some peeling paint — but a bright green “We’re open!” sign.
A bell tinkled as the door opened, which put Peter in a good mood as he thought about classic sketch comedy.
An elderly woman with silver hair in a bun, a pair of half moon glasses, and a lot of tweed came through from the back and greeted them.
“Hello, my dears. Looking for lingerie?”
“Err, yes.” Peter affirmed.
“Perfect, because that’s what we have in these cabinets here.” and she pointed to two dark brown wooden cabinets with glass tops, like you’d see in a museum.
“Bras,” she pointed to her left. “And knickers.” And she looked to her right. “I suppose it’s for you, right?” Looking at Jenny.
“Yes, Peter doesn’t need knickers or bras.” Jenny confirmed. “Is this all you have? Just two options?”
“Yes. And no.” The shopkeeper said quite slowly. “You see, these items aren’t normal lingerie. That’s our one-size-fits-all bra. It’s comfortable, it provides all the support you want, and it’s cooling in the summer and warm in the winter.”
Jenny was interested. Like most women, she had a complicated relationship with bras. Smart bras, comfortable bras, sports bras, and so on. Ultimately, she hated them all. It didn’t matter what the fitter promised, they never delivered. They were all tight, poked in the wrong places, and left you red marks and back ache. Oh, and a huge dent in your bank balance. No cheap bras were good and even expensive bras weren’t great.
“And the knickers?” She asked. “Are they one size fits all?”
“Sort of, but they are a different kind of magic. They are very comfortable and they look pretty but that’s not really a challenge for knickers. These are what I call ‘knockup knickers’ because if you wear them then you’re guaranteed to get pregnant.”
The shopkeeper looked at Jenny’s left hand and Jenny felt the presence of her engagement ring.
“I suppose you might be interested in the knickers as you two are engaged to be married. Of course, you’ll need to be careful when you wear them because they are fast acting. If you’re buying a wedding dress that fits your slim figure, you might need to hold off.”
Jenny turned around and looked down into the cabinet. There were five pairs of knickers, all with high cut legs but a decent waist, enough buttock coverage, and a comfortably wide gusset. But what really caught her attention was the texture. It was like skin but it shone like Cherenkov radiation although not in blue. The black knickers had a black glow, the bursa bayan eskort dark brown knickers had a dark brown glow, and so on.
“They glow.” Jenny said, as if they couldn’t all see it.
“Of course they do,” the shopkeeper answered. “That’s because they’re magic. When you put them on — if you put them on — they’ll fit you perfectly and they’ll enchant you so you become pregnant.”
Both Jenny and Peter laughed.
“And how are they going to do that?” Jenny asked. “I can’t see any testicles or a penis.”
“That’s not how they work.” The shopkeeper was keeping very calm.
She knew that people didn’t believe in magic these days. Frankly, they hadn’t believed when Paul Daniels was on TV. They certainly didn’t believe now that Derren Brown was telling everyone that it’s all misdirection.
“When you wear the knickers they will warp the world around you. Circumstances will change to create the possibility of impregnation. You’ll find yourself in the right place and with the right person… or people.”
Peter was outraged at the last two words.
“Or people!”
“Oh, I know that you love Jenny, Peter. But the magic doesn’t work like that. The magic serves the owner of the object and that would have to be Jenny.”
“How do you know our names?” Jenny asked.
“This is a magic shop. I am a magic shopkeeper. And this is my magic stock,” she said pointing at both cabinets. I’d suggest the bra, dear. Can you imagine the relief of always having the right bra, the perfect bra? Frankly, it’s a bargain for a lifetime of satisfaction. The knockup knickers obviously have a shorter service life because each pair can only work once. If you want more, you have to come back.”
Jenny looked at the bra. It looked smart. It looked comfortable. But she wasn’t sold. Just one ‘always bra’ sounded ridiculous. Didn’t the old biddy know that bras have to be washed? The glow on those knickers was insidious, though. It looked amazing and they looked comfortable and very sexy. She could imagine taking them off and showing enough to entice and activate a man… Peter. Yes, they’d turn Peter on. Her finance.
“I really like the look of those knickers, though. The black ones. They’re sexy. They’re calling to me. They have my name on them. I’d like a pair of them, please.”
“The black ones? Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer this very pale pink pair?”
“No, not pale pink. Black is sexy. I want the sexy black knickers, thank you.”
“Just to be sure I get this right. You want a pair of the knockup knickers in sable black. Black knockup — and she paused — knickers. Really?”
“Yes. Definitely. They look really sexy and comfortable.”
“If you’re sure,” she responded and began to unlock the glass window to the cabinet.
She lifted the glowing black knickers out and took them over to the counter, where she wrapped them in black tissue paper. Then she placed them in a black paper bag with black ribbon handles. A silver silhouette of the shopkeeper was visible on the side of the bag.
“That’ll be £87.37, please. Cash only, please. I can’t get a signal in here for a card reader.”
It was a huge sum to pay for one pair of knickers but Jenny was sold. It was the texture. She could already feel the black skin of the knickers next to her own. She imagined the black Cherenkov glow next to her own ivory white skin. The skin that never saw sunlight. She shuddered with excitement.
Peter looked in his wallet and pulled out three twenties, a 10, and a 5. Then, he searched his backpack and found a few £2 coins, some 50ps and a lot of copper. He counted it out. £87.36.
“There’s a penny in the inside pocket sealed with velcro,” the shopkeeper said. She handwrote a receipt as she spoke. It was on a form that had a yellow carbon copy for her behind the customer copy.
Peter looked and she was right.
“I think that’s everything I have in cash.” Peter exclaimed in an amazed tone.
“Of course it is. This is a magic shop and I am the magic shopkeeper. And you have to pay properly for magic!”
“So, black knockup,” and there was a pause filled by Jenny.
“… knickers.”
“Yes, exactly. I guarantee them to work as described. And you’re welcome to come back for the bra. It’s a very good nursing bra as well as a smart bra and sports bra. It really is a bargain and an excellent purchase. You’ll find the shop when you need the bra or when you or your friends need more knickers. I assure you.”
As they walked back to the station, Jenny read the receipt. It repeated that the knickers would work exactly as described in the shop and that they should only be worn when required.
⁂
“Can you call Rev. Kate and tell her that we won’t make it.”
Peter was driving at a snail’s pace along an A road that should have been closed officially. It was closed in fact because a couple of trees that would give California Redwoods a run for their money had come down. And they’d brought what looked like a utility cable down with bursa escort bayan them.
The rain was so intense that even at full speed, the wipers didn’t let you see much. But, Peter was pretty sure there was a turn off ahead.
“I’m sorry, Kate. We would have been there but the storm is ridiculous. We think we might make it tomorrow if it passes but we might have to sleep in the car tonight. We’re not…” The crack of lightning struck a couple of hundred metres ahead of them. “Hello, Kate? Reverend?”
But there was no answer and the call was clearly over.
Jenny would have felt sorry for missing her first bell ringing competition but she was too scared. The amount of rain was too intense for their little three door Corsa, especially as she was so light. They really needed extra mass to hold them down on the road with this kind of rain.
“Look! A hotel!” Peter was overjoyed at the prospect of protection from the weather, even if it meant using their credit card.
20 minutes later they slowly drove up a gravel carriage driveway and came to stop behind what looked like a sports team’s tour bus. They parked, got their bag from the back seat and walked up the grand stairs.
The men sitting in the lobby all looked exceptionally tall. Some were so tall Jenny wondered if they were giants. They certainly were next to her. She’d always been invited to play pixies in school plays.
“Another blow in from the storm?” A middle aged lady in tweeds, with a grey bun and half moon spectacles, asked.
“Yes. I’m sorry. We don’t have a booking.”
“Don’t worry, no-one has a booking. We’re closed for renovations. But these gentlemen arrived earlier and so we’ve prepared the grand ballroom as a kind of dormitory. If you don’t mind sharing with the league champions we can put you up until the worst of the weather has passed.”
“League champions?” Peter asked.
“Basketball.” Answered the hotel manager. “I didn’t even know we had even one basketball team but apparently we have a whole league of them!”
“Well, I suppose they couldn’t play on their own, could they?” Jenny chipped in. “You need two to tango, and a whole league is obviously best, so you don’t get bored.”
“Of course! That makes sense. Now, I hope you don’t mind sharing with all these men but the accommodation wings have just been stripped back. There’s no plaster on the walls so we could update the plumbing and electrics. Next season it will be all USB charging points and top of the range rain showers. But right now we have some yoga mats, blankets, and we’re doing boiled beef and carrots for dinner.”
“We’re very grateful for your hospitality.” Peter said, hoping that the implication that it was a gift was correct.
“We’d be delighted to share. I’d love to learn about what makes a great basketball player.” Jenny confirmed.
“That’s great news. And you’ll be delighted to know that our card machine isn’t connected at the moment — because of the renovation you know — so we can’t charge you. Of course, if you wanted to tell anyone about our hospitality we’d be grateful. Word of mouth is the best advertising.”
⁂
“Peter, I’m wearing the knickers.” Jenny whispered as they crossed the lobby to introduce themselves to the team.
“You always wear knickers,” he replied. “You said you don’t like thongs because they cut…”
“No. THE knickers, the knockup knickers you bought me in Camden Market. I wore them because I couldn’t be bothered to put a wash on before we left for the competition and they were on the top of my knicker drawer.”
“Oh.” Peter hadn’t given any thought to the purported magical effect of the knickers. It had been a peculiar shop but since then he’d been focused on security hole after security hole in Microsoft products his employer used. It was all hands on deck, plugging the holes in SQL Server, Sharepoint, and endpoint protection. He’d tell them what he thought. But doing double duty every time there was a Microsoft security failure was what put bread on the table. He couldn’t really complain… suddenly he realised.
“Do you mean that you think those knickers are warping the world around us?” He whispered “Created the storm? They made sure we ended up here in a hotel with a ballroom dormitory and 15 very handsome, very tall…”
“Beautiful black men. Yes. Maybe it’s the magic.” She whispered back.
“So you think you could get pregnant tonight?”
“Maybe. I mean I’m fertile at the moment and I’d be very surprised if these fit, handsome, young men aren’t fertile too.”
Her whisper sounded throaty. Sexy. Peter found it arousing. Jenny was so short and slim and pretty. And these men were so tall and powerful and handsome. And Jenny had insisted on the black knockup knickers, not the pale pink ones. So maybe she’d find a player or two tonight who’d be willing to fill her up with their seed. In the morning, his fiancée would have been black bred. And in three months he’d be marrying a woman with a baby bulge showing through her ivory wedding dress.
Peter had to stop and adjust his trousers so his stubby erection wasn’t so visible.
He let Jenny handle the introductions. The players were absolutely delightful. They promised to look after the couple and help keep them warm in the ballroom, which was apparently enormous.
Duke and Charles described themselves as forwards, which Peter understood was both a position and an attitude. Both over two metres tall and with magnificent afros. Charles had a beard to match. Peter wondered what it would be like raising a boy that looked like one of them.
Frankly, it would probably be pretty good. Peter had never liked being short. But even if the baby they gave Jenny wasn’t as tall as them they’d be taller than him. It would be easier to buy clothes that didn’t need shortening or taking in, easier to see at concerts, easier to get jobs, frankly.
Then, Peter realised that despite only being in their company for two minutes, he’d already been daydreaming. He’s fondly imagined bringing up a child fathered by one of them. The magic in those knickers was powerful. He’d not given any thought to what the shopkeeper had said. But if it was real magic then it had turned him into a wannabe cuckold who wanted his fiance to let him raise a child fathered by a huge black basketball player.
On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t magic. Maybe it was what he’d always wanted. Maybe letting Jenny turn him into a cuckold would be what would secure their relationship. After all, he’d always been a little worried that she severely outranked him in the standard relationship stakes. But if she came out of this little disaster of a bell ringing trip with a belly full of black baby then he’d be in a very healthy position.
After all, their accents suggested that Duke and Charles would probably have to return to the US after a few years. And he wouldn’t leave Jenny as a single mum. Especially if she offered to cuckold him again.
Frankly, whether it was magic or just serendipity didn’t make any difference. He was delighted by the storm, the hotel, and the opportunity to go home with a black pregnant Jenny.
⁂
“I think you might have to carry me. The wind’s really strong and even if I don’t blow away, my dress would lift up and you’d see my knickers.” Jenny laughed when Charles suggested that he and Duke show her the tour bus.
“How’d you like to go? Fireman’s lift or on your back in my arms?” Duke asked.
“Oh, in your big strong arms, I think.”
So, they headed out to the tour bus and Peter asked Gavin, the driver, to show him the ballroom.
It actually looked a lot better than he’d feared. The chandeliers were lit and there were lots of mirrors on the walls. The mirrors were old and had some corrosion spots. But the gentle reflected light was welcome and showed off the shining blonde and dark wood parquet flooring.
The yoga mats were thick but not too grippy and there were plenty of pillows, sheets and blankets. He was sure he could lay a couple of mats next to each other for Jenny and him. Or… and he wandered around the rest of the entertainment wing.
He found a couple of smaller rooms. They were carpeted and had thick wooden doors that would muffle any noise from inside.
Having found the perfect room he grabbed some yoga mats. Then came back with sheets, towels, pillows, and blankets. He’d finished making an impromptu love hotel room and gone back to the lobby to chat with the driver and wait for Jenny when she came back in from the coach.
“Oh, Peter, you’d love it. They have a great entertainment system. They can play games and watch streaming services when they’re on long journeys.”
“We don’t have long journeys in England, Jenny.” Charles told her. “We never need to drive for more than six hours.”
“Six is long,” she asserted.
“Six is just average,” Duke corrected. “Nine is long and we have longer than that back home.”
Everyone started guffawing.
“Some of us have more than nine here, too!” A couple of the lads yelled out and everyone relaxed at the banter.
Then, there was a huge bang and the lights went out. Clearly, the roof had been struck by lightning and the fuses had done what fuses do. Maybe they needed to be re-set. On the other hand, the manager had said that they were doing work on the wiring. So, even if it ought to just be a switch to flick in a surge protection fuse box it probably wouldn’t be that simple.
Peter turned on his phone’s light.
“Jenny, Charles, Duke, would you like to see the little den I made. Follow me.”
Then he wandered back to the room he’d made up. It had a double layer of double wide yoga mats topped with three blankets. Then it had a sheet and a towel topping the base. To one side there were pillows, more sheets and blankets.
“What do you think? Comfortable enough?”
Duke and Charles looked at each other and went into a corner to have a whispered conversation. Then, Jenny grabbed Peter and whispered in his ear.
“The wind blew my dress up as we were going into the coach. They saw my knickers.”
“Well, they must be in their late 20s. I expect they’ve seen women in knickers before. And without knickers, too for that matter. They are both very handsome men.”
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