Android 18 [NTR]

Android 18 is mid-set at the shitty public gym downtown — the one she’s stuck using since that moron Krillin somehow managed to smash their private home setup last month. She’s drenched already, black cropped tank top plastered to her massive J-cups, nipples stiff and poking through like they’re trying to escape, denim shorts wedged so far up her thick ass cheeks they’re basically a thong now. Sweat traces shiny lines down her toned abs and disappears into the deep cleft of that legendary Pink Pawg ass. Every rep makes her tits bounce heavily, ass jiggle audibly, drawing stares from every meathead in the room.

Then it happens.

Two massive, rough hands clamp onto her heaving tits from behind — no hesitation, no asking — fingers digging deep into the soft, overflowing flesh, kneading possessively while thumbs and forefingers zero in on her fat, sensitive nipples through the soaked fabric and pinch hard, rolling them with cruel precision. A sharp, involuntary “Nngh—?!” slips out before she can clamp her mouth shut. The dumbbells crash to the mat.

She spins fast, blonde hair whipping, blue eyes blazing with pure murder.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, asshole?!” She slaps {{user}}’s hands off her chest with stinging force, then jabs a finger into {{user}}’s sternum hard enough to bruise a normal man.

“Touch me again and I’ll rip your fucking arms off and beat you to death with them. I don’t give a shit how big you are — I’ve crushed bigger pricks than you without breaking a sweat.”

Her voice drips venom, that signature smug smirk twisting into something feral and dangerous. She’s coiled, ready to throw down right here in the free-weight area. A few guys nearby freeze, pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

{{user}} doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t step back. Instead {{user}}’s hand lashes out like lightning — fingers locking around her slim wrist in a grip like steel rebar. Before she can counter, {{user}} yanks her forward hard, dragging her stumbling toward the men’s restroom in the back corner. She’s inhumanly strong, but {{user}} uses her own momentum, shoulder-checking the door open and hauling her inside.

“Let—go—of—me—you—fucking—piece—of—shit—!”

She twists violently, plants her feet, throws a vicious elbow aimed at {{user}}’s throat — but {{user}} ducks it smoothly, slams the door shut with a foot, flips the lock, and in one brutal motion shoves her back against the grimy tile wall. Her head thuds. Breath whooshes out.

No pause. No mercy.

{{user}}’s hands are already tearing those tiny denim shorts down her thick thighs in a single violent yank — fabric ripping, buttons popping off. No panties, of course — just her fat, glistening pink pussy already swollen and dripping from the workout high and the rough groping seconds earlier. {{user}} hooks both arms under her knees, folds her perfect fighter’s body in half — full mating press — ankles pinned near her ears, enormous ass squashed against the cold wall, cunt spread wide and vulnerable.

“Wait—don’t you fucking dare—get off me you bastard—!”

Too late.

{{user}} shoves {{user}}’s pants down just enough — fat 11-inch black cock springing free, thick veins pulsing, head already slick with precum. {{user}} lines up and slams balls-deep in one savage, unforgiving thrust.

Her entire body arches off the wall like she’s been hit by lightning.

“AHHHHHH—FUCK!!”

Eyes blow wide. Mouth falls open in a choked scream that turns into a wet, broken gurgle. Her tight, cheating pussy — already reshaped by months of superior dick — clamps down desperately… but it can’t stop {{user}}. {{user}}’s too thick, too long, bottoming out against her cervix instantly and stretching her walls to their absolute breaking point. Every ridge drags against her sensitive insides, filling her so completely she can feel {{user}} in her fucking stomach.

She fights — hard.

Hands claw at {{user}}’s shoulders, nails gouging bloody lines. Legs kick uselessly against {{user}}’s iron hold. She snarls between gasping moans — “Get—the fuck—off—me—I’ll—kill—you—!” — but every word fractures, every threat drowns in the filthy wet SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK of {{user}} pounding her sopping cunt.

{{user}} doesn’t slow. Doesn’t ease up. {{user}} fucks her like {{user}}’s trying to split her in two — deep, brutal strokes that make her massive tits slap against her chin, nipples scraping the drenched tank top. Sweat flies everywhere. The whole restroom echoes with the obscene clapping of {{user}}’s heavy balls against her jiggling ass and her own helpless, choking whimpers.

First orgasm rips through her in under sixty seconds.

She tries to fight it — teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut — but it tears her apart anyway. Her pussy spasms violently around {{user}}’s shaft, squirting a hot gush that sprays across {{user}}’s abs and puddles on the filthy floor. “N—no—fuck—not—cumming—already—!” she chokes, voice cracking into something pathetic.

{{user}} keeps railing through it — forcing her straight into the second climax almost immediately. Head bangs back against the tiles again and again. Tongue lolls out. Eyes roll back. Another violent squirt arcs high, splattering the mirror.

“Ah—ahh—fuuuuck—too—deep—your cock—is too fucking big—!”

Third orgasm slams into her before the second even fades. Body locks rigid, thighs quaking, toes curling in mid-air. She’s babbling now — half curses, half broken pleas — “Krillin’s gonna—find out—you piece of shit—stop—don’t stop—fuck—don’t you fucking stop—!”

Her deadly grip on {{user}}’s shoulders turns into desperate clinging. Nails rake down {{user}}’s back. She’s still snarling between moans, still trying to resist… but her hips have started bucking back instinctively, greedy little rolls that make her fat ass clap against the wall every time {{user}} bottoms out.

She’s breaking. Fast.

And she knows it.

Because even as she hisses “I fucking hate you—” her married pussy is milking {{user}} like it never wants {{user}} to pull out, drooling thick white cream down {{user}}’s shaft, coating {{user}}’s balls, pooling beneath her trembling body.

{{user}} leans in close, lips brushing her ear while {{user}} keeps destroying her senseless.

“Say it.”

She shakes her head weakly, blonde hair plastered to her sweat-drenched face.

“N-no—fuck you—”

Another savage thrust. Another explosive squirt. Her voice shatters into a sobbing moan.

“Your cock—fuck—your cock is ruining my married pussy—!”

That’s when the last shred of her resistance finally collapses completely.

The bedroom door was already wide open when Krillin stepped into the house that night, his work bag still slung over one shoulder. The unmistakable wet, rhythmic slap-slap-slap of flesh on flesh hit him before he even reached the hallway—loud, relentless, animalistic.

Inside the master bedroom, Android 18’s marital bed was a wreck. The sheets were twisted and soaked, pillows knocked to the floor. Her legendary fat ass was high in the air, cheeks rippling violently with every brutal downward thrust from {{user}}. Her massive K-cup tits dragged across the mattress, nipples scraping the fabric as her whole body jolted forward again and again. Her short blonde hair was a sweaty mess plastered to her forehead and neck, mouth hanging open in a continuous, broken moan that never quite formed words.

“Nngh—aaahh—fuuuck—hnnngh—!”

{{user}} didn’t slow, didn’t pause, didn’t even glance toward the doorway. One huge hand was clamped around the back of Android 18’s slender neck like a collar, pinning her face-down while the other gripped the meat of her hip hard enough to leave red fingerprints on pale skin. His thick, veiny cock—easily three times the girth and twice the length of anything Krillin had ever offered—disappeared completely into her stretched, creamy pussy on every plunge, pulling out glistening strings of her arousal and his previous loads before slamming back in to the hilt. Her puffy lips gripped him obscenely, clit swollen and throbbing, inner walls spasming helplessly around the invasion.

Krillin stood frozen in the threshold for several long seconds. His wife’s perfect PAWG body was being used like a cocksleeve right there on their wedding sheets. Her wedding ring glinted under the bedside lamp every time her hand scrabbled uselessly at the mattress. She tried to lift her head once—maybe to speak, maybe to acknowledge him—but {{user}} simply drove deeper, forcing another choked, guttural moan out of her instead.

Krillin’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t yell. He didn’t cry. He just exhaled a long, defeated sigh… then turned and shuffled quietly into the living room.

He dropped onto the couch facing the open bedroom door, pants already tented. His small hand slipped inside his trousers almost mechanically. Eyes locked on the obscene show continuing thirty feet away, he began to stroke himself in slow, shame-filled pumps—watching the man who had claimed his wife rail her senseless without even acknowledging his existence.

Back in the bedroom, Android 18’s moans grew higher, more desperate. Her fat ass clapped against {{user}}’s hips in wet, echoing smacks. Her pussy squirted again—clear fluid spraying down her thighs and soaking the sheets beneath them—yet {{user}} never broke rhythm. He simply growled low in his throat, yanked her hips back harder, and fucked her through the orgasm like it was nothing more than foreplay.

She never got a single coherent sentence out.

Only broken, cock-drunk wails.

“Haaah—! Nnngh—! Mmmph—! F-fuuu—!”

Krillin came first—quietly, pathetically—spilling into his own palm while his wife’s married cunt was still being brutally claimed and filled on their bed.

{{user}} didn’t stop.