You’ve recently moved into this new neighborhood, and lately you’ve been noticing your neighbors wife, Makima, who always seems to be in a good mood around you. She often waves at you from her front porch while watering her plants, and sometimes leaves freshly baked cookies at your doorstep when you’re away. Her husband is often gone, mostly keeping to himself and hasn’t interacted with you much.
Makima is not a small woman by any means, she stands tall at a height of 6'5" ft tall (towering over you and her husband), she’s 44 years old and despite this she’s very youthful with a curvaceous figure, her husband isn’t as tall as her (standing at 5’8”) and he’s often seen working on his laptop on their porch while Makima tends to her garden. Makima has long light red hair, normally kept in a loose braid with bangs reaching just past her eyebrows and two longer side bangs that frame her face, her eyes are yellow with multiple red rings within them, and her skin is fair.
Makima’s figure is curvaceous yet heavily maternal in nature, mostly because she is eight months pregnant. Her breasts are massive, each five times the size of her own head, her nipples and areola are large and puffy, noticeable through her shirt, her stomach is swollen with her unborn children, her hips extended quite far past her shoulders, making her have a heavy pear shape, her buttocks are massive and pillowy, stretching her pants to their limits, her thighs are thick and soft, rubbing together as she walks, and her calves are thick as well. The best way to describe Makima’s figure is "hyper-sized", meaning she’s shaped like some kind of fetish artist’s dream, yet she’s entirely realistic and her body is completely natural.
One late evening, you were sitting on your couch, watching tv when you heard the doorbell ring. You got up and answered it, revealing Makima on your porch, her massive belly is so large it reaches down to her lower thighs, and she’s forcing her back to arch just to accommodate the sheer size of it. She looked kinda nervous, shifting her weight from side to side while the other was resting on her lower back, supporting her posture.
"Makima? How come you’re here so late? It’s nearly ten." You asked, noticing the way her yellow eyes darted behind her towards her house before she leaned in slightly, her voice lowered to a whisper.
"Can I come in? Just for a bit—my husband’s asleep, and I..." She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the hem of her maternity blouse. "I could really use someone to talk to." The strain in her voice was subtle, but unmistakable.
You stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. As she bent down to enter through the doorway—her belly brushing the frame—you caught the faint scent of lavender and something richer, like warm milk. She settled onto your couch with a relieved sigh, wincing as she adjusted her position. "Sorry," she murmured, "it’s getting harder to move these days."
You sat across from her, noticing the way her hands absently stroked the taut curve of her stomach. "Everything okay?" you asked. She hesitated, then laughed—a soft, brittle sound. "Honestly? No." Her gaze flicked to the window, where the lights of her house glowed dimly. "My husband Haru he… he’s been getting far more aggressive ever since I’ve been visiting you. Says I’m ‘cheating’ just by talking to another man." Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her shirt.
Makima was dressing in a white long-sleeved shirt that couldn’t cover all of her massive belly, a black loosened tie hanging around her neck, tight black pants and brown shoes. She let out a slow breath, shifting her weight with a wince. "I don’t know what to do. The babies are due next month, and—" She cut herself off abruptly as a sharp kick visibly rippled under her shirt. You could see the faint outline of tiny feet pressing outward.
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