Fakeboy Exhibition

[Disclaimer: this story deals with misgendering kink, which can be off-putting to people who aren't familiar with it. If that's not your thing, that's okay, please just respectfully click away. This is a kink fantasy that does not reflect my actual opinions about my or anyone's trans identity.]

You weren't sure about the idea of signing up to be on display at a fakeboy pussy exhibition, and now that you'd arrived, you're still unsure of whether it was a good decision. They gave you $1000 to be the main event at an art exhibit alongside three other fakeboys. You're bent over, with only your hips, ass, pussy, and legs sticking out through a hole in the wall, so that your identity could be concealed. Your ankles are restrained to keep your legs spread open throughout the exhibition, so that everyone can get a good look at your pretty pussy.

The evening seems to be going pretty well for the first few hours. You can hear people passing by on the other side of the wall, commenting on how gorgeous and feminine your pussies are.

But then, you hear a commotion in the large exhibition room - someone is speaking into a microphone. "Thank you all for coming out tonight for the exhibition. Now is the moment you've all been waiting for: it's time for the auction to begin!" You and the other fakeboys exchange confused glances. "For their generous donation, the lucky winner gets to impregnate one of these lovely fakeboys! Bids start at $10,000."

Your stomach sinks as you hear the auction begin. How could they have neglected to mention this? Plus, the starting bid was so much more than you got paid, it wasn't fair! You start to struggle against your restraints, desperately hoping to break free, but you just hear the crowd in the other room laughing.

"Oh, we have a feisty one! Don't you just love seeing those wide birthing hips squirm, folks?"

The dysphoria was starting to get to you, and unfortunately the wetness it caused was on display for dozens - or was it hundreds? - of people. You suddenly became overly conscious of the feeling of your ass jiggling with each small movement. The restraints were very secure and hadn't budged whatsoever; perhaps it wasn't worth struggling.

You hear the bids going higher and higher, approaching $100,000 now. Maybe it'll just be one of us who gets impregnated, you think. Hopefully the auction winner will choose to breed one of the other fakeboys' pussies.

You hate to throw your compatriots under the bus, but the situation demanded it. You really, really don't want to get pregnant right now. How would you explain it to people when your tits swelled up too massive and milky to bind, and your big pregnant belly necessitated that you wear girly maternity clothes instead of your favorite button-up shortsleeve shirts? In only a few short months, it would become impossible to hide the fact that you had been impregnated, and everyone who saw you would instantly be able to tell that your body had been claimed and put to work making babies.

No, no, no! It could't be! You sink further into denial as the bids approach $200,000. There are four fakeboys at this exhibition, so the chances that you would be the victim were only 25%. You could be safe and go on living your life as a stealth fakeboy while one of the others dealt with the consequences of being tricked into this auction. Surely, surely...!

The final bid was placed: a whopping $260,000. Your heart raced. The winning bidder was cheered and congratulated as they made their way to the front. You heard their footsteps approaching.

"Which one should I breed first?" they ask out loud. The crowd shouts out a jumble of different answers. You hear the fakeboy to your right gasp quietly, then a moment later you feel a cold finger tracing along your asscheek. The hand moves down to grab the inside of your thigh.

"You're dripping all the way onto the floor, did you realize that?" the bidder's voice asks. "You must really want this." You quiver as you feel their hand touch your exposed lips, rubbing your wetness all over your erect tdick and pussy. You can barely contain the moan the sensation causes. They're touching you gently, like they actually want to make you feel good, which just makes you feel all the more needy. They squeeze and jiggle your thighs and ass as they start to inspect you; spreading your cheeks, palpating your vulva, stroking the curvature of your hips.

"You're a fine specimen, you know that? A pussy like this definitely deserves to be on display." They spoke quietly now, talking only to you rather than to the audience. "I don't think I could live with myself if I passed up an opportunity to fill it." They slipped their fingers inside you and you felt yourself clench around them involuntarily. "Good girl," they cooed. Being referred to as such made you feel incredibly dysphoric, and yet you couldn't deny how it aroused you. You felt a longing to be slutty, to submit and prove what a good girl you could be.

When they removed their fingers, a desperate whimper escaped from you. You couldn't bear the feeling of emptiness inside you any longer. There was no denying it: your pussy wanted - needed - to be bred. So, when you heard the sound of the bidder's pants dropping to the floor, you felt a wave of relief. Maybe I just won't get pregnant, you bargain. Most people have to try more than once, right?

They smack your ass, and you can feel the whole thing jiggle in reverberation. Their cock prods your pussy, and you feel them rub the tip up and down your slit. It takes all your effort just to not whimper out loud with desire. I'm totally powerless in this situation, so I might as well enjoy it in the moment, you think.

"You should be proud to have such a fat pussy. It's a shame you don't show it off more. If you belonged to me, I'd put it on display every single day."

Finally, the bidder sank their cock into you. You felt how incredibly slick your passage was from the ease with which it slipped inside. Subconsciously, you push yourself back onto their cock, needing to feel it deeper within you. With a few strokes, they split you open far enough to bottom out. This time, you can't hold back a euphoric moan - it's echoed by the bidder's moans on the other side of the wall.

"Fuck, that's nice," you hear them say. You can't help but agree. Their cock felt like it was setting fire to your insides. Your hips were gyrating in response to their thrusts, and it felt like your pussy was sucking their cock in, needing it ever deeper. You'd never been penetrated without a condom before, and it felt so good and so right. How could you have gone on so long not knowing how sublime a raw cock felt in your pussy? Now that you knew how good it felt to breed, how could you ever turn back?

The bidder gripped you firmly by your hip bones, using that leverage to pound you even harder and faster. At this point you were a drooling, moaning mess, your unrestrained breasts swinging back and forth with each stroke. The other fakeboys watched you with unabashed curiosity, and you were sure the entire audience in the showroom was doing the same. But you didn't mind; there wasn't enough room in your mind to focus on anything other than the massive cock relentlessly rearranging your guts.

The bidder grunts and increases their pace once more. The plap, plap of sticky skin against skin grows more fervent, and you think surely they must be getting close. They're breeding you like an animal, jackhammering into you. It feels amazing, so amazing that you lose yourself in it. In that moment, you exist to be bred, and absolutely nothing else. You are just a pussy, with fertile hips as breeding handles, huge wobbling tits, and a womb, born to be used.

"Beg me to fill you up," they command darkly between heavy breaths. When all you can muster is a lustful moan, they dig their fingernails into your squishy hips and slow their pace slightly, still thrusting hard and deep. "Beg me."

"Please,..." your speech is punctuated by the loud clap of your ass against their hips. "Please pump me full of your cum."

When they don't react, you keep begging, breathlessly: "Please fill me up. I want to feel your cum! I need it! Please cum inside me! Please impregnate me!"

The dysphoria that accompanies that final phrase is overwhelmingly arousing, and you feel yourself climaxing. You cum, hard, on your rapist's cock. Your blissful moans fill the room, and there's no question that the audience can hear it. You can feel your pussy milking the bidder's cock as your orgasm goes on and on.

Soon, they cum too, pushing into you as deep as they can while their pulsating cock gushes a load of virile semen into your womb. It feels utterly sublime. They thrust a few more times for good measure, fucking every last drop deep into you.

As you fade back into awareness, you hear that the crowd is cheering for your fertilization. "Do another!" a voice yells. "Do them all!" another voice replies. Aftershocks of bliss continue to pass over you as you realize the fakeboy to your left is getting fucked now. Her moans are high-pitched and feminine, and every few breaths she lets out a weaker and weaker "No..."

*There's nothing you can do now, so just accept it,* you think. *Besides, how could something that feels so good be bad?* You wanted nothing more than to be bred over and over again; you prayed fecklessly that the bidder would come back to you for another round, filling your womb with cum until you felt like it might burst, to ensure that you would get impregnated. Instead, you sat there with your limbs restrained, your gaping hole on public display begging to be filled again, while you watched your fellow fakeboys' faces as they were inseminated one by one. How lewd you all must look from behind, four exposed pussies all in a row and dripping with fresh cum.

At least you wouldn't be alone in your pregnancy; with a support group of pregnant fakeboys who understood what you had been through, comparing how your bodies swelled up together week by week, perhaps it wouldn't be quite so bad.