Life With An Ogre Girlfriend (Patreon)

Okay! Back to writing! I don't remember what sparked this, but it might have been me realizing I didn't do much with ogres in the modern monstergirl setting. They're mostly there to be the dangerously huge ones, where I think they were one of the one or two species with bigger dongs than humans but that it wasn't worth the risk for most people because they can smash up a car if they're so inclined.

I started weighing the perks and decided to write some guy who's part defending ogre waifus, and part just madly in love with his big meaty girlfriend. It's got a lot of sweetness in it, some gentle femdom, and that overly careful super strong gf stuff in there. Admittedly, a big part of my motivation to finish this piece was seeing Luisa from the footage being leaked out of Encanto. She was a cutie right out the gate, but when I saw her dancing while hip-bumping boulders to pieces... that had just the right energy I was looking for in this short story.

One thing I can say for sure is there’s a lot of variety out there. People tell you that goblin girls are the best. Others say get someone who knows magic to spice things up or a succubus who wants to bang around the clock. But every time it comes up around me, I can’t say it enough: ogres are above and beyond my favorite kind of lady.

Everyone has their own tastes and that’s fine. I know there’s a lot of hesitation when it comes to dating an ogre. They’re huge and heavy. Fully grown, they’re well over 300 pounds of thick muscle, fat and bone and can rip an arm off if they’re properly motivated. The extra body hair doesn’t win them many fans and with that much brute force behind their everyday movements, they’re not so much stupid as they are very calculated and careful. Which yes, makes them come off kind of slow-witted. But I have been living with Yav for a little over a year and it’s been a fucking delight.

Let me walk you through a regular day of ours.

Yav wakes up a little before me. With that lumbering and elephantine mindset, she needs to take her time waking up. That means there’s a good 15 to 30-minute block of my morning when she’s up but doesn’t want to get out of bed so I end up being the little spoon for cuddles. She’ll finally slowly peel herself away from me, and I try not to shudder from that quarter-ton of muscles shifting around me. I’m not sure I’d survive the night with her just laying on top of me, but a heavy arm squeezing me to her side does just fine.

I feel a limb with oaken-brown skin about twice as wide as my own arm draped over my side, a smooth patch of fur running along the top of her forearm. I understand that ogres stayed hidden for as long as they did by living where nobody else wanted to go, which meant a lot of chilly and dangerous places. Body hair meant some extra protection and helped maintain heat, so it came in handy in their natural habitat. Yav keeps it trimmed down as a civilized small-town ogre, which just showed off more of the ridiculous muscle to the arm wrapping around me.

She squeezes me tight against her rock-solid body, a 6’9” slab of muscle with a thin padding of chub around some of the edges. Long, loosely curled hair bordering between dark red and dark brown drapes over me in loose strands as her broad hands slowly drag me into an inescapable hug. Her broad tits feel like a second set of pillows as my back rests against her abs. Narrow, gold-colored eyes match the earthy tones of her body as I feel her plump lips curl into a smile against my neck.

Yav’s broad-bottomed nose sniffs gently at my hair and she sighs like it’s her morning coffee. She muses something about how good I smell, which reminds me of the distinct musk that comes with being close to an ogress. A body built for muscle and retaining heat means she works up a sweat easily and being curled up in the blankets with me all night leaves the familiar smell of her warm, muscular body wrapped around me. It’s like having her smell like she’s fresh off us having sex all day and it’s better than any perfume.

From there, it depends on how tired I am. If I’m beat, she lets me doze off like her personal teddy bear. If I’m visibly awake (or she’s just especially frisky for the morning), a beefy arm wraps around my side and finds my morning wood. Ogres have that same kind of mentality as a male cyclops or a centaur in a crowd of halflings; extra careful and ginger not to crush somebody underfoot. Except that ogres understand they can wreck just about anything around them.

There’s a definite level of instinctive coddling and care that goes into Yav’s touches while letting me feel the intense power and weight behind her every move. The firm but lightly gripping handjob is closer to a slow and intense massage than a quick jerkoff. She whispers soft, half-awake praises to me, usually calling me her “little biscuit.” It think it’s her way of teasing me for being a normal-sized human instead of nature’s weightlifters; a tasty little morsel for her to pick at as she pleases.

She always ends it with one of her deep kisses when she feels I’m close to finishing, letting her mouth engulf mine with her bigger lips and tongue that feel like they’d swallow me up. We both work afternoon shifts so sometimes I’ll pay her back for the bedroom if I have the time.

There’s no sleeping through it when Yav finally gets out of bed. Even the specially reinforced mattress we have, you feel it when about 350 pounds leaves next to you. I almost pop off the bed so I get up with her to help out in the shower.

Part of it is just because I can operate faster than her, helping her clean up in half the time. Mostly it’s an excuse to rub down all her muscles and juicy lovehandles.

I keep getting distracted cleaning around her abs or heavy tits and might just let my mouth do the cleaning. She just locks up and starts moaning to herself when I’ve got her wound up. This deep, baritone noise as her heavy body trembles with pleasure. At most, she’ll rest a heavy hand on my head to ensure I’m not going anywhere and I know it’s her cue to go down. I just nuzzle in past her damp bush and keep licking and kissing until I feel her dense muscles pulse around me, a mix of peaked arousal and her locking herself in place to keep from crushing me.

She finishes her rinse (after giving me a little warm shower of her own) and I take over the shower while she goes ahead to start breakfast. Like most ogres, Yav eats at least twice as much as I do. It’s what they call Giant-sized at most restaurants, or “Portioned” at the overly polite ones. Considering how much more time this takes and the sheer amount that an ogre has to eat, they make sure it’s not just hunks of meat or piles of grains.

Since I started living with Yav, I learned about spices I didn’t even know existed (on top of gaining a few pounds). She cooks like it’s breakfast for a small army, and having seen the girl bend a frying pan like it was plastic, I’m still surprised at how nimbly she can crack an egg. She’s a professional chef, in fact, working with a catering company and apparently cooks for celebrities and other bigshots in her gigs.

Her bulk-order meals mean a lot of work in a wok or a stewpot around the house. She loves learning new recipes, but she keeps going back to rauph. It’s kind of just a big stirfry with bigger hunks of meat and a tangy sauce, and as often as she makes it, sometimes I feel like I could eat it every day. Something’s just nice about a woman with a hearty appetite too. If she’s eating that much that fast, she must be enjoying it.

All packed with fresh food, she gets ready for work. She dresses smartly for her brutish build, and sometimes I tease her for looking more like a bouncer than a cook. I do it because it prods at her to make her smack my ass or bump me with her hip, both of which have made my feet leave the ground with the force behind it. Always feels so great, and that tingle can linger with me for a half hour sometimes.

With that, we’re off to work. She sends me pictures on her phone when she’s done with certain dishes. Sometimes she’s proud of them and sometimes she’s amused by the tiny servings or the colorful gnomish dishes. It’s adorable to have her personal photo account sent to me, butI have to decipher what she’s saying sometimes. Her texting is awful and I know it’s not from her huge ogre hands because she has the Xphone built for creatures of her size.

At the end of her day, she’s back and hungry for more attention (also food). I’d think she’d be tired of cooking already, but she tends to get right on cooking dinner. If she doesn’t shower after work, I can still smell the food from work in her big mess of hair, but she gets right back to it, shaking her squeezable tank of an ass while she works the stove.

If I get REAL lucky with traffic, I get back before Yav. That’s when I can start hauling out the ingredients and start cooking before she gets home. I remember the absolute squeal in her voice when she first found me giving it a shot, breading up a bunch of fried chicken. “What’s this, my little muv?” she cooed as her bodypillow breasts attached to her brick wall of a torso pressed up against me. The word apparently is something between a provider and a house husband, and the similarity to the word love makes it just another cutely condescending nickname. It made me shudder so bad for her to press her thoughts and teasing words and heavy body on me.

We eat and catch up and watch tv or whatever we need to relax. We often end up fucking, of course. She’s such a brickhouse that I can climb on top of her and help myself, knowing I have basically zero chance of hurting her even if I tried my best. She always looks so comfortable beneath me, almost amused by my climbing around on top of her while her thick hands steady me or guide me gently one way or another. Her tits are always a point of focus for me. They feel like two of the biggest in the world, heavy enough that I need to put in a real effort to move them but they still keep jiggling around when our hips get into motion. The thick bush and strong smell of her powerful body having worked all day might turn some people off but to me, it just drives me wild. It makes it so much easier to just drift into a primally horny state like I have my muscular amazon cavewoman all to myself. For all her thick skin and sturdy build, it’s that much more rewarding to start hitting her sweet spots and making her broad features soften in arousal.

Her size and weight limits us a little, but only in the sense that we need to take precautions. Sometimes she’ll lock her muscles into place as she gets on all fours, letting me mount her from behind and ride her doggy style. “Ride” and “mount” are especially fitting because kneeling still leaves her high enough off the bed that I have to put most of my weight on her back and stay off the mattress to reach her pussy. She always has the same faintly amused smile when she looks back at me, like I’m some puppy trying to clamber on top of her and hold on.

The GOOD shit’s always on the nights when I cook. As much as she might tease about it, I think it triggers something in her. Maybe it’s just her or maybe it’s ogres associating food and comfort, but after I’ve fed her my cooking she can hardly wait to get her big strong hands on me. That’s when she wants to be on top. Paying me back, I guess, saving me the climb and showing off for me to show that she's worth the effort.

Those are when she likes to show off and god is it good. Yes, I’ve come out with a couple incidental bruises, and yes I once worried if she’d broken my pelvis and/or dick. But she never goes rough about it. She has that same delicate care about her movements but with this intensity about her intentions that feel so amazing. Watching her long arms bulge to steady herself as her strong thighs clench to make sure she’s supporting most of her weight just above my hips. It’s practically a magic trick as she doesn’t put her weight on me but gyrates her hips, riding up and down to milk my cock inside her while I can feel the soft, excess mass of her thighs and firm stomach sag against me. Between her lust and the extra effort not crushing me involves, it makes her breathe heavily as she’s basically doing pushups on me. Her big juicy breasts hang low and heavy, squashing out against my chest enough that I can catch a quick kiss or nip at her nipple before they drift back up.

I’m just glad that her muscles lock up when she cums, digging her fingers into the mattress and petrifying herself in place. I wonder if that’s part of why she has such a fixation on being careful and comfortable; if she just get petrified after cumming, I could see ogres being just as cautious about who and when they fuck. Who cums first varies on most nights, but when she’s on top, she’s got a few orgasms under her belt before I’m finished. I credit her own excitement motivating her and gravity for doing the extra work drawing her back down on me. It makes her deep soft pillow of a pussy soaking wet and giving off this hot and meaty squishing noise by the time I’m finished that is absolute music to my horny ears.

Then we’re back to sleep. While Yav’s not a heavy sleeper by the usual definition, she drops out quickly with me pleasantly trapped between giant tits and powerful but clingy arm. I make sure my tablet’s close to the bed, because it doesn’t really matter if I feel like going to bed yet or not. I’m her little muv, her little biscuit, and she doesn’t want to let me go. Who could say ogres aren’t the best when someone that hot, busty and massive wants me that bad?!

Nobody, you assholes! Ogres are top tier waifu! Never speak to me and my giant wife ever again! Okay, that came off harsh. Thank you for reading my wifepost.