1 Chapter 1 R-18+

Ichigo Kurosaki, normally ever the surly grump, felt like he was walking on air today.

Who could blame him, really?

Today marked a particularly special occasion: the five-year anniversary of his marriage to his beautiful wife, Rukia.

And, needless to say, their anniversary plans for tonight were nothing short of fairy-tale perfect.

They would kick things off with a romantic candlelit dinner for two.

How could they begin any other way? Reservations for Rukia's favourite fancy restaurant were almost impossible to come by, but they had been planning this night for a long, long time indeed.

Their window-side table, where the lighting was best and the sweet siren sounds of the band were just right, had been reserved months and months in advance.

For an event this important, Ichigo wouldn't dare allow a single detail out of place!

After dinner, they would head down to the beach for a long, leisurely stroll, and slowly but surely wind their way back home...

There, God and wine willing, the pair would enjoy a night of passion so heated it could fill the pages of a super-sleazy doujin!

All Ichigo had to do now was pick up her gifts. Those, too, had received just as much care and attention as dinner - not to mention money.

The price tags on some of his chosen presents made his wallet ache just thinking about them... but wouldn't it be worth it in the end to see his beautiful wife's face all aglow, see her face highlighting as her cheeks dimpled gently?

The anniversary gifts in question were as numerous as they were lovely.

Blood-red wine aged to chest-warming perfection, a dozen red roses, a box of the raven-haired waif's favourite liqueur chocolates.

And the centrepiece: a beautiful diamond necklace that sparkled and shone as only diamond ever could.

Some would consider the gifts altogether too much for just a first anniversary, but Ichigo couldn't imagine giving Rukia anything less. True love was true love.

Ichigo checked his smartphone, and wiped his brow when he discovered it was already coming up 6:30.

He was supposed to meet Rukia at 9 o'clock, and still needed some time to track into the city to pick up the bouquet of delightfulness he'd prepared for her.

He hopped onto the first train pulling into the station and began the long trip to Roppongi.

It was while he stood on the train, jostled to and fro by its numerous occupants, that Ichigo's phone let out the briefest little beep.

He reached a hand down for it, and quickly found himself struggling with the crowd around him just to get into his pocket.

He might have been a man in the prime of his youth, muscular from his martial arts training, and toweringly tall and broad-shouldered, but even men who had conquered the likes of Squad 13 and the fearsome Espada could still find themselves struggling with a greater evil: Tokyo's JR train line.

Finally, Ichigo managed to fish his phone out, thumbing idly through his messages. His eyes flashed with delighted surprise when he saw the bright green 'New Text!' next to Rukia's name.

Eager to see what his little bundle of joy had sent him, Ichigo raised his thumb to tap down on the message. But before he could get there, his phone unexpectedly beeped again.

That was odd... A message from Miss Matsumoto? What could she possibly want? And didn't she know he and Rukia more than had their hands full with each other today?

Well... Rukia would have her hands full, anyway. Ichigo barely had to raise his arms to encircle those thin, undernourished shoulders of hers.

Ichigo wavered when he saw Rangiku's text message had some kind of image attachment, but only for a moment. It could wait while he checked on Rukia.

Rukia Kuchiki: Hey... Hope tonight's the night! >>

For the briefest of moments, Ichigo's uncharacteristic smile became a scowl again. He uncomfortably rubbed his ankle against his other foot.

He knew exactly what she was referring to… and would have preferred to avoid the reminder.

It was true his wife was perfect, delicate and pure, like a sweet flower in every way, but... for whatever reason, their efforts to produce a child together had been fruitless.

Of course, they'd both been working their way down a list of remedies since the wedding. The doctors had been quick to resoundingly affirm the fault wasn't with Ichigo.

If anything, his disproportionate member overcompensated his end of things a hundredfold; his dizzying length never failed to make Rukia squirm in discomfort when her shallow pussy was invaded, her small womb hammered on irresponsibly...

And his girth wasn't far behind! Rukia could barely take Ichigo inside without clutching his arms tightly and burying her face in his chest to muffle her cries.

He sighed and shook his head, remembering the embarrassment of their honeymoon. For a grown woman, she still had the body of a child.

So they continued to try, because she knew Ichigo sorely wanted a baby.

He craved to make her body abundant with child, and her tiny belly swell out into a living reminder of their union - a heavy and opulent mark of his virility... and her acceptance of their bond.

He was so enthusiastic in worshipping the ideal of a pregnant wife that Rukia herself had been thoroughly swept up in his fantasies.

She wanted to be pregnant almost as badly as he wanted her to.

But her body simply failed to cooperate. Her small child-like pussy was thin and whispery, far from up to the task of giving a criminally-oversized cock the milking and massaging it demanded.

When Ichigo's thick, overpowering sperm flowed into Rukia's belly, her eggs made themselves scarce, flushed out of her womb almost as soon as they entered.

Rukia and Ichigo had the fertility of a regular couple between them... if only it weren't alll concentrated in his strong male body.

But, at the same time, it seemed almost fitting.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, her inability to bear a child so far was part of what made Rukia herself.

Even her wishes to get with child were delivered in shy, blushingly earnest ways... like "Hope tonight's the night! >>"

Girls who acted like that didn't get pregnant. It seemed almost ridiculous to imagine a blushing maiden like Rukia with a massively blown-up stomach, a gravid and plush fertility goddess litter that anchored her to her man, a child-stuffed womb that would gush out his progeny as many times as he wished.

No, that sort of wild, fantasy-like impregnation was the domain of wild, crazy, animalistic girls... bitches and sluts who partied all night, drinking and singing.

Ichigo couldn't help but smile ruefully. In a way, Rukia's inability to satisfy his base, vulgar urges was just part of her being a demure Japanese wife, a faithful pillar that supported her man with modesty and decorum.

Well, whatever! Ichigo closed the message, and thumbed down to Rangiku's. Time to see what that fat sow wanted from him.

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