The next morning, the backyard of the mansion was quiet except for the chirping of birds and the distant sound of servants working. No guests. No music. No flowers except the ones Derek had trimmed himself the day before. It was nothing more than a cheap, shameful transaction disguised as a wedding.

Gerard walked into the master bedroom holding a small white dress. “This is what you’ll wear today.”

Stiles’s eyes widened in horror as she took it. The so-called wedding dress was tiny — barely more than a sheer babydoll nightie. The fabric was completely transparent white lace. The hem would barely cover the bottom of her ass. There were no cups for her breasts, no lining anywhere. It was designed to show everything.

“This… this is indecent!” Stiles gasped, holding the flimsy thing up. “It’s a wedding, not a brothel! I can’t wear this in front of the elder and… and him!”

Gerard smirked, grabbing her chin. “You will wear it. And you’ll wear nothing underneath. No bra. No panties. I want Derek to see every inch of what he’s getting. The harder his cock gets, the better the seed, right? This is for our future wealth, Stiles. Don’t be difficult.”

Stiles’s cheeks burned with shame and unwanted arousal. Tears pricked her eyes, but she obeyed. She stripped completely, her heavy breasts bouncing free, pink nipples already stiff. Her fat, puffy pink pussy was smooth and exposed. She slid the transparent dress over her body. The lace clung to her like mist. Her big tits were completely visible, nipples dark and prominent through the sheer material. The hem barely reached the bottom of her round ass cheeks. If she bent even slightly, her pussy would be on full display.

She looked at herself in the mirror and whispered, “I look like a whore…”

“You look perfect,” Gerard said, squeezing one of her tits roughly. “Now let’s go. Your new husband is waiting.”

Derek stood at the makeshift altar in the backyard wearing a cheap, ill-fitting black suit that Gerard had thrown at him. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric tight. He looked devastatingly handsome even in cheap clothes. His jaw was clenched, fists tight at his sides.

When Stiles appeared, walking slowly down the short garden path, Derek stiffened like he’d been struck by lightning.

“God…” he breathed under his breath.

The transparent dress hid nothing. Her massive breasts swayed heavily with every step, pink nipples clearly visible. The outline of her fat pussy lips showed through the lace. Her round ass jiggled softly. She looked like sin wrapped in a wedding veil. Derek’s cock surged to full hardness instantly, throbbing painfully against his cheap trousers. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her tits, her pussy, her flushed embarrassed face.

Stiles reached the altar, cheeks burning crimson. She couldn’t meet his eyes at first.

The old religious elder looked visibly uncomfortable but said nothing — Gerard had paid him well. Gerard stood off to the side, grinning like a man who had just bought another fortune.

The elder cleared his throat. “Let us begin.”

He spoke the vows quickly, voice flat.

“Do you, Derek Hale, take this woman as your temporary wife, to lie with her, to fill her with your child, and to claim that child when the time comes?”

Derek’s voice was low, strained. “I… do.”

The elder turned to Stiles. “Do you, Stiles, take this man to your body, to receive his seed willingly until you are with child?”

Stiles’s voice shook. “I do…”

They exchanged cheap brass rings. Stiles now wore two wedding rings — Gerard’s expensive gold one on her right hand, and Derek’s thin band on her left.

Gerard muttered happily, “Good. Very good.”

The elder nodded. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Stiles and Derek turned to each other. For a moment they just stared — years of hidden glances, secret desire, shame, and anger all crashing together.

Then they leaned in.

Their lips met hungrily. The kiss was not gentle. It was deep, desperate, filthy. Derek’s strong hand cupped the back of her head as he devoured her mouth. Stiles moaned loudly into him, her soft pink lips parting instantly, tongue sliding against his. They kissed like they were starving — wet, messy, moaning sounds filling the quiet garden. Derek groaned deep in his chest as he tasted her. Stiles’s knees weakened. She had never felt a spark like this with Gerard. Never this raw hunger.

They kissed until they were both breathless, lips swollen, saliva shining on their chins.

The elder announced awkwardly, “By the power given to me… I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Gerard clapped once, beaming. “Perfect! Now go. Start making me my fortune.”

Gerard led them to a private guestroom at the far end of the mansion — a nicely furnished room with a large bed, meant for important visitors. This was where Derek would now live and where he would fuck Stiles day and night until she was pregnant.

Gerard opened the door and pushed them inside. “I expect results soon. Fuck her hard. Fill her every day.” He looked at Derek. “Remember — strictly for the child. No feelings.” Then he stepped out and locked the door from the outside.

Now it was just the two of them.

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Stiles stood there in her transparent slutty wedding dress, breasts heaving, nipples rock hard. Derek’s cock was painfully tenting his cheap suit pants. They could still taste the kiss on their lips.

Stiles saw how angry and nervous he was — angry at Gerard for controlling them like animals, nervous about what came next.

She stepped closer, her bare feet silent on the floor. Her huge tits jiggled with every movement. She placed both soft hands on his hard chest, feeling the heat of his muscles through the shirt.

“Derek…” she whispered, voice shaky but needy. “Let’s get over with it.”

Derek’s breathing grew ragged. His hands shot out, grabbing her fat ass through the sheer lace. He pulled her body flush against his, squeezing her soft, round cheeks hard as he yanked her into another deep, filthy kiss.