The first day of spring arrived with the crisp dew of the morning reflecting upon the vibrant greenery that caused a rainbow glitter across the entire forest as the rays of the sun peeked over the tree tops. The start of the day was heralded by the buzzing of dozens of sets of transparent wings humming to life, announcing the appearance of countless fairies emerging from the branches and bushes of the vegetation to fly out into the woods. Shaking off the frost of winter hibernation, the diminutive ethereal little ladies went about their natural duties with practiced diligence. Stark naked aside from the tiniest little snips of leafs or flower petals that were modestly taped over their nipples and between their legs, hair draped past their shoulders and clinging to their skin as if eternally wet right after stepping out of the shower, and humming a sweet serenade. The first appearance of forest fairies for spring was a magical sight to behold.

The youngest little fairy girls for whom this was their first spring set about pollinating the forest, flying into the depths of the vast vegetation that the untamed meadows and flower beds to offer themselves to budding gardens and let their bodies assist in expanding the flora of nature. But the older fairy girls - who has already seen a waning summer and settled in for their fall slumber - instead steered themselves towards the lakes and ponds and even flowing rivers of the woods, their purpose being to contribute themselves to the virile and hungry fauna. A task they rushed into with dripping anticipation.

Thistle was one such fairy, stepping out of the knot of a tree and stretching out while her buzzing wings kept her airborn. A bright eager smile on her face as she waved to her sisters who were fluttering off all around her, bidding the younger girls goodluck and sharing well wishes of "countless children" with her peers before they flew off to find their husbands. Many of the fairies her age were heading off to bodies of water that were as far from their tree of origin as possible, to do their part in spreading the nectar of their home across the entire forest. But Thistle was a short sighted and selfish little fairy, so instead she began flying towards a small little pond that was always within sight of the knothole she most favored crawling out from. The loud echoing croaks from that lake had often been a lullaby for her in her first spring, and she knew it was where she would find her new home.

The wizened fairy practically danced through the air as she flew towards the swampy little pond, the waters a deep muddy green blanketed by a layer of moss over the surface. And before she even got close enough to see them, she began to hear the loud croaks of the resident frogs singing out their mating song. Singing out for her, and fairies like her! Thistle paused in her flight and couldn't help but shudder out a moan, nectar dripping down between her legs. The music of anxious horny frogs sent a shiver down her spine and ripples through her loins. Her heart beat twice as fast as her wings kicked into a fever pitch and she raced towards the waters in a zipping bee line.

There across the waters surface were many lillypads, and atop each pad was a frog sitting and singing in hopes of attracting a fairy like her. The sight of them all, tens of frogs with their saggy glistening warty green skin and smooth elastic overweight guts, the sounds of their thunderous baritone ribbiting, even the aroma of their pungent masculine scent wafting up from the pond. It was almost enough to make her wings freeze and send her plummeting down into the waters as she couldn't help herself but to climax hands free right then and there in midair! Thistle was in a daze of euphoria as she drifted unsteadily down towards the first lillypad that she saw and was closest to her, coming up to the frog resting upon it facing away from the direction of her tree as he looked off into the distance scanning the skies for fairies who most often came from far away to find waters a fair distance from their home tree.

The upside to coming to this nearby lake meant Thistle had the unique chance to take her new husband by surprise. She got to admire his overweight body from behind, admire the folds of his paunch heavy against the fold of his bent in legs, and of course the bulbous mounds of his rotund ass. She swooned and quivered in the glide of her flight before she touched down on the lillypad, her landing sending ripples across the water and making the frog perk up with surprise. The amphibian peeked back over his shoulder, and then hopped around to face the fairy with wide hungry eyes. Thistle smiled with nervous excitement as the beast of a male appraised her, and she could only shyly wave to him while watching the expression on his face brighten with ravenous approval. She felt the gaze of his bulging eyes drink over her figure, feeling herself being inspected like nothing but meat, while she got to admire the view of him from the front. Happily indulging in oggling the squish of his corpulent overhanging gut squishing against the leafy floor of the pad, the slimey drool dripping from his plump lips, the sticky gripping of his clinging paws poised between his legs. And being so close, his scent was overwhelming - she could feel herself ovulating with every inhale! He was perfect in every way, the picture ideal of a husband that any fairy would long for.

After a long moment of sizing each other up, the frog let out a booming croak and then opened his mouth wide. His bulb tipped tongue dangled out while the vast fleshy abyss of his slimey maw and vast gullet yawned wide open for Thistle to stare into. She was entranced by the sight, and the frog lifted a forepaw up and pointed a dripping finger into the presented opening while his eyes practically twinkled as they looked down at her. It was an invitation, a proposal! One she was only too happy to accept. She staggered, stumbling on unsteady feet from being so excited, then leaned forward until she was close enough to kiss her lips against the sticky bulb of his tongue. A gastric rumbling emanated from the depths of his throat and then a rushing blast of intense eye watering gastric fumes blasted out in an intense wet belch directly into her face that nearly knocked her back. He proposed, she accepted, and he sealed the arrangement. They were married now, Thistle was wife to this swamp frog and was committed to him from here unto happily ever after.

Unable to contain herself she let out a chirping little shout of lust and then peeled the leaf coverings away from her body, exposing herself to the frog completely while he watched with brimming delight and shifted where his fat body sat as he let her ready herself for him. Without a moments hesitation she laid her truly naked self against the lillypad, flat on her back and then splayed her legs wide exposing her thin puffy pussy lips to her husband as they gushed with nectar. Her husband didn't waste a single moment, in the blink of an eye he hopped forward and pounced upon his wife! His wet sagging gut crashed down over Thistle's body with a wet splat, smothering her under the weight of his moist wrinkly flesh and the heaping layers of doughy fat that draped across her from head to hips. She couldn't even begin to try to push him away, she was trapped beneath his bulk whether she liked it or not. Her pussy squirted as she took a deep breath of the amphibian bodily fumes that were all she had available to breath, and there was a lewd suckling duet of the two creatures bodies activating in synchronicity. Her ovaries surged a thirst into her womb, and at the same time the frogs girthy flaccid stump of a cock pushed out from between his legs and pressed against her pussy lips.

A muffled squeal was pushed out as that turgid cock was shoved inside of her all at once, in one smooth and sudden thrust her untouched virgin birth canal was stretched wide around the invading manhood. Her toes clenched and legs trembled while her puffy lips gripped and gushed around it as it slotted deep into place, like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle completing the picture of their lives. Thistle moaned into her husbands bloated belly while her insides rearranged themselves around the shaft, the leaking tip of his cock poking past the kissing rim of her cervix and drilling into her womb. The friction of her tender wet velvet inner walls clenched radically around every inch of his cock, while her body was wracked by a ceaseless orgasm that swiftly grew a puddle of nectar across the lillypad. And once lodged inside, the frog remained confidently in place mounted above his wife with his hips rammed messily against hers. His eyes rolled back and his lids eased shut with pure blissful satisfaction while his autonomic reproductive system kicked into gear.

The frogs shaft began to pulse with activity, like the fluid flowing down a garden hose it swelled in a rolling wave of lewd muscle. And then an outpouring of cum spewed from the tip, splashing into the fairies womb. He didn't even have to move as his loins seeded his wife, he remained still and held in place over and within her while she was flooded with his baby batter. Wriggling spermies shot up her fallopian tubes and bum rushed her waiting fertile eggs. The ovums quivering with plump glee as they were suddenly mobbed by hundreds of sperm each, being violated and burrowed into by each and every swimmer that imposed itself upon them. The male DNA cells nestling comfortably into the warm embrace of fairy eggs and causing a cluster of division while undergoing gestation that wouldn't do much to alter their current shape much at all. The warmth of motherhood glowed through Thistle as she was inseminated on the spot, her tummy bloating from the amount of cum being pumped into her and impregnating her with hundreds of tadpoles! And that was just from the first rope of cum that hit her womb walls, the frogs unending orgasm continued unabated with a spurting steady stream that sent even more countless sperms to molest and knock up even more countless ovums that her ovaries were producing and flushing down her tubes with every inhale of raw masculine scent she breathed.

Within one minute she was pregnant with quadruple digits worth of tadpoles. Time swiftly lost any sense of meaning as she was sandwiched between the firm leaftop floor of the lillypad and the heaving warm blanket of frog gut that draped over her up to the tip of her forehead, leaving only a pair of splayed out feminine legs sticking out from between his thighs to provide any outward indication of her presence beneath him. She breathed, she ovulated, she was impregnated, she couldn't even move as the sheer euphoria rapturously taking hold of her body took authority over her senses. Her body was converted into a living nursery for his tadpoles, she remained rigidly limp and still as a thoughtless climaxing receptacle for him to dump his seed into. By the time his gushing orgasm finally ended and he eased himself off from her body awkwardly crawling backwards to relieve her, the sun had already set. He let out a croak when his hose of a cock ebbed down and the stream of cum tapered off, and a sticky shlucking sound echoed around as he peeled himself off and away from her while a lewd wet pop filled the air once his cock was tugged free of her lower lips and receded back into his body. Her pussy squirted once last time with a feminine orgasm, but not a single drip of frog cum leaked out of her gaping birth canal.

Thistle panted breathlessly as she could fill her lungs properly instead of huffing against the frogs stomach for hours, but the air was far from clean. As she tried to summon movement back into her limp baked little body her head lulled to the side and she looked out across the rest of the pond. Every lillypad had a frog mounted over his own fairy wife, their own legs sticking out as the only visible indication of their presence, muffled moans of feminine delight smothered under fat ribbiting guts as each and every frog ensured the continuation of their genetic line within their fertile wombs. The reproductive frenzy kicking up a fog that made for an ethereal mist across the pond surface that reflected under the moonlight. Thistle's husband had finished first because she had arrived so much earlier than all the other fairies who made their way to this pond. After a few minutes of basking in the mutual afterglow, Thistle reached a trembling hand down across her body, groping her flat chest and tweaking her tender uncovered nipples, and then brushed her palms along to feel the supple baby bump of her tummy. Feeling the life that had taken root inside, a literal countless infinity of frog spawn that were gestating in the warm nurturing embrace that was her body. She had been turned from a fairy into a frog wife and tadpole mother in a matter of hours.

Finally catching her breath as their refractory period elapsed, Thistle sat up with her hand still on her tummy and looked up at her husband. His moist body glistening under the moonlight with steam from their coupling rising off from his figure. Their eyes met and the frog let out a ribbit while she just giggled lovingly. She began to try pushing up off her back and stand, but her husband rumbled with disapproval and shook his head. Then his lips parted and his maw spread open wide, the deep hot hungry abyss of his throat gaping before her. His tongue lifted free of his jaws and poised like a serpent, and she smiled with anticipatory delight and lifted her arms out welcomingly. With a wet snap his tongue shot out and splatted with a sticky cling to her chest. And in the blink of an eye the hot swampy atmosphere of the moonlit pond was replaced by the humid compressing embrace of frog mouth snapping shut around her. She was yanked by that whipping frog tongue into his jaws, and her legs and soggy wings stuck out from between his drooling lips for only a few seconds before he chewed his maw around her body and suckled her out of sight completely inside of him. There was nothing left to prove that Thistle the fairy ever even existed as anything more than a lump of meat in a frogs crop.

Thistle moaned into the pungent breath of her husbands mouth while it suckled around her, drippling spittle soaking into her skin and connecting in viscous strands between her and the oozing pink flesh surrounding her. She wiggled in abject pleasure, pressing out her arms and legs while her gaping ruined cunny climaxed squirting flavorful nectar across her husbands tongue. The sticky whip of a tongue wrapped around her like a rope, squeezing at her curves while the bulbed tip flicked between her legs, making her squeal into the steam of frog breath wafting around her while her body quivered with further coaxed orgasms. The fair had no thought in her mind aside from hoping and praying that her husband enjoyed her flavor, and from the rumbling ribbits that vibrated all around her it seemed that he was enjoying her quite thoroughly. She was in bliss, sucked on and slurped over in his mouth while teetering on the precipice of true paradise awaiting at the bottom of his throat...

With a casual tilt of his head, her husband sent Thistle sliding towards the back of his mouth and soon she was being swallowed away down his gullet. A short wet slippery waterslide of slimey tubing that clenched over her body from all sides, until she was deposited suddenly into his stomach. She face planted into the basin of the gut with a splash, and rolled to curl up into a fetal position as her legs tumbled in to join her. She twisted and pushed and squirmed against the frictionless oozing surroundings for a few moments trying to adjust herself into a comfortable position, and felt the imprints of paws pressing in through the layers of organ walls around her that helped in manhandling her blind wiggling body. And soon enough she settle into a cozy recline against the sloped curve of the hungry stomach, her legs folded in not unlike a sitting frog herself and with enough elbow room for her to reach out to the slick wall of gut in front of her to rub at it tenderly.

The inside of the frogs stomach was a pungent bog, thick digestive syrup oozing from the surrounding walls and dripping down her body and a rippling fog of gastric fumes swirled around her and then rushed up the way she came in. A rumbling thunder boomed out from all directions as her husband released a loud crass belch that sealed her status as nothing but food, announcing to the forest that they had consummated their marriage definitively. Thistle moaned into the aftershocks of the croaking burp, pressing out against the stomach with as much affection as her tired limbs could manage. The frog was so obese that there was no hope of any imprints of her hands could be visible from the outside, leaving no indication that the amphibian on the lillypad was anything but fat and well fed. He was her entire world now, and she was little more than an internal extension of his existence.

After his crass belch of a croak, the frog rubbed a paw over his stomach feeling his wife settle into her new home. And then with a wiggle of his squatting hips, he hopped forth off from the lillypad and spashed into the waters of the pond. He dunked down beneath the surface and left a splash of kicking legs as he dived into the depths, swimming all the way to the muddy floor of the water bed. The external movement jostled Thistle around inside of his stomach, and she giggled happily while bouncing and slip and sliding against the inner surroundings while she felt his husband move into their marital abode. When he reached the bottom of the pond the frog dug his paws into the mud and dug himself down into the muck. Burrowing under the loose wet earth until the slurry of waterlogged sludge closed in overtop of him, burying the frog beneath the bottom ground of the pond leaving no sign of his presence beneath the mud. The frog was nestled into a skin tight bubble, a form fitting one room living space from which he would never emerge. Moving only to rest his paws over his stomach and rub at his bride held within beneath the layers of cushy blubber.

Thistle felt her husband settle in and let out a content sigh, her breath mingling with the intense gastric fumes of frog gut. She rubbed at the stomach walls feeling the imprints of his paws from the otherside and pressed her hands against them, before receding and rubbing her palms over the baby bump of her belly. She was food for her husband now, she would remain in his stomach digesting into the affectionate grind of his inner walls and soaking belly juices and never see anything beyond the cloying flesh of his ravenous insides ever again. While her body acted as nourishment for her husband, it also acted as incubator for his offspring which were developing in her womb. In a few short months the tadpoles she carried would be ready birth out of her and then swim down through their fathers digestive system to release from his body, wiggle their free through the mud and start their growth into frogs within the pond who would one day emerge for the first day of spring and wait upon a lillypad to claim their own fairy wife. With the amount of seed that had been pumped into her she was infinitely pregnant, and would spend the rest of her eternal life digesting and birthing tadpoles to help populate the pond for every year from now until the end of time.

She smiled at the thought of it, quivering with another orgasm while the stomach churned tight against her body in a possessive compress. She could tell her husband was thinking about the same thing she was, and his hunger reacted with the greedy undulation around her body. This was her purpose as a forest fairy. This was the fate all fairies would enjoy. To pollinate the forest for a spring and summer, then emerge the following year to find a frog to be permanently impregnated and devoured by. Such was the blessing of nature and the magical wonderful role they played as part of it. Spring was truly the most beautiful season of the year.