In a china shop somewhere in the city, a twenty-year-old Chinese woman named Chen lived. She was short, had short black hair and short, small, yellow feet. However customers entering were not paying much attention to Chen’s waist height, but the giant, bloated, pregnant belly that she carried around.
Nobody could remember a time when Chen was not pregnant. A growing baby bump was always attached to her when people went into her shop, and each year more and more children were around her inside the shop, while Chen walked around pregnant again and breastfeeding a newborn while helping customers out.
Chen was a special woman who came from a family of overly fertile women. She had fled China’s cruel and strict one-child policy rule and fled to America where she could make children unhindered, and that was exactly was she wanted to do.
After arriving the first day, she got immediately impregnated, and was well 6-months in when she and her husband got the shop.
And now she was just pumping out Asian children constantly, gifted with such fertility that each birth was at least twins, her husband quickly plunging a new load of cum in her each time her womb was empty, keeping her pregnant forever with his virile, yellow balls.
And the ceaseless pregnancies took a toll on Chen’s body, making her stomach so paunchy and soft, filled with blue stretch marks and wrinkled skin that stretched out smoothly once she was carrying an almost-due cargo load of kids. Her belly button was poking out permanently now, looking like a round lump of tickling flesh when she was drum-tight, and pubic hair was growing wildly between her legs since she couldn’t shave herself properly from the bump blocking her access. The hormones triggered from the pregnancies had made her hips widen and breasts bloaten with milk endlessly, the customers would sometimes see wet, dripping spots on her stretched out shirt, which only got worse as her body tried to produce enough milk for the growing quantities of children she produced. Beside maternity clothes, the sizes of bras she needed to contain her swelling milk bags got greater, together with her hips who soon would get stuck in the doorframe if she kept going like this.
And she did.
Years passed with countless pregnancies that crammed and stuffed the little china shop as a demonstration to why China had enabled the one-child policy rule. More and more children were birthed, all varying in ages and sizes but many sharing the same birthdate as Chen was very good at making triplets and quadruplets. Her baggy eyes looked tired and exhausted like her mature body that had turned so thick and plump and her hips so wide as she was tall. Her breasts sagging so low and big as footballs. You could hear milk sloshing around inside them when they swung around with her movement. And well into her forties, she was still getting pregnant, taking the title of the most effective and productive Asian baby factory in the world, soon reaching a number of offspring that was half the amount of people living in this city.
It seemed like she had no menopause whatsoever, perhaps she would keep making children at eighty years old as well,
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