I was of course a bit down when I was diagnosed with diabetes. It explained the symptoms I'd been suffering from - extreme rugged handsomeness, looking like Captain America, and getting tons of thanks on my stories - but it was a bit of a daunting task making lifestyle changes to deal with it. When my wife suggested that I write a story about it to help me cope, I thought her suggestion was nice if a bit silly. And yet, that night, after my customary half a bag of Doritos right before bed, when I drift off I found myself falling into a dream; I was standing on a hard, dark floor in a featureless void, a shimmering shield of invisible force forming a dome over me and what was, on closer inspection, a anime lady with huge tits.
She approached me and I got a closer look at me - she was almost half a foot shorter than me, about five six or so, with measurements impossible for a human - every part of her was in perfect proportion except her giant, I'd guess 50EEE cup breasts, without a hint of sag in the way only a cartoon could ever look. She had big, sparkling blue anime eyes, a lazily drawn small sideways v of a nose, and a small, smirking mouth. She was wearing a sailor fuku that must've been tent-sized to hold her curves in and a dark blue pleated skirt. She was looking me up and down as I was examining her, and as we came close she flipped her shoulder-length bubblegum pink hair at me.
"I'm Diabetes," she offered her hand, "Although you can call me Diabetes-chan. I'm in charge of your life now!"
"What?"
"I'm in charge, don't you get it? I'll be deciding what you do from here on out. There's no cure for me!”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I'm going to achieve remission!"
"We’ll see about that! You think you can fight me?" She took a step back and started stripping down. "That's fine. It's more fun when you put up a fight anyway."
Not sure what else to do I stripped off my three quarter length tee and those white shorts I accidentally got that pho sauce stain on that wouldn't come out. With both our clothes in a small pile, I thought we were ready to go, but Diabetes-chan pointed over my shoulder. Cautiously, suspecting a trap, I half turned to see what she was pointing at. It was my wife, standing outside the forcefield.
"Hi, honey!" she yelled. "Did you take my suggestion? I think this will really help!"
"Thanks. Uh, you're gonna watch me fight?"
"I sure am. I hope you do better in this one! Don't write yourself to lose this time, okay? You deserve to win sometimes!" I nodded and turned back to my opponent.
"Are you ready?" Diabetes-chan purred. "I'm going to make it impossible for you to sit through a whole movie without getting up to pee!"
"We'll see about that," I tried to sound tough. "I'm going to manage your symptoms so much I'll forget I even have you!"
"Never," she spat buxomly. "You know you can't defeat me. I'll always be part of you!"
"We'll see about that!" I yelled, charging her bravely and handsomely. But before I could tackle her big anime tits to the ground, she simply held up her hand; where her palm touched my chest, I felt weakness coursing through my body. My hands and feet started tingling, and I fell down with a groan, looking up to see my opponent standing over me with a happy sneer. As I handsomely and bravely tried to get up, she gloatingly sat down on my chest, cupping my face in her delicate hands.
"Still haven't had enough? How about this!" My skin tingled as she filled me with the overwhelming urge to check my blood sugar four times a day. "You're never having white potatoes or rice again!" She leaned down, her massive, drooping anime titties swaying in front of my face hypnotically, presenting me with her small, bright pink nipples, inviting me to surrender to her by drinking from them. "You know what's in here?" she purred. "Cherry vanilla Pepsi. Your favorite, right?" She pressed her left nipple against my mouth; all I had to do was open my lips....
I was broken from my trance by the loud, insistent sound of my wife pounding on the transparent force field that kept her out of the fighting area.
"Hey!" she screamed, her voice coming low and muffled. "Hey! Don't let her do that! Come on, get up and fight!"
"Ahh, don't listen to her," Diabetes-chan purred. "Just open your mouth."
"Get your pills!" my wife shrieked. "They're in your shorts!"
My pills! With a large-penised grunt I threw my opponent off me; she must've thought I was well and truly finished as she yelped in surprise, landing on her side. I got up and ran over to where my shorts lay - Diabetes-chan chased me, but I had a head start, and I got there with time to snag the Metformin bottle out of my pocket and twist it open, but before I could actually swallow the pill my opponent was there, grabbing my wrist with both hands, trying to twist my arm down and away.
"Don't you fucking dare!" she grunted. "You're mine! And if you take those, you might experience diarrhea, nausea and abdominal pain!"
"Get shreked," I barked heroically, overpowering her as dramatic music swelled on the soundtrack, triumphantly forcing my arm up, swallowing the pill good-lookingly. Diabetes-chan wailed, releasing my arm and falling backwards, her body shaking big-tittedly on the ground as the medication began decreasing glucose production by my liver and increasing the sensitivity of body tissues to insulin.
I pressed the attack, pushing her onto her back, slapping her heaving boobs around, then taking a firm grip on her hard little nipples, pinching and twisting them. She gasped, making the ahego face I learned about from know your meme, clearly enjoying the rough treatment I was giving her. I flipped around to face her feet, adjusting my body so we were in a 69; I pushed her thicc thighs apart, dipping my head down and eating her out. I tried to shift my hips away from my opponent's mouth, but she managed to lean up and get my cock between her lips. She started sucking on my dick like one of those flavored candy canes I'm not allowed to have anymore, and for a moment I slowed down, moaning into her pussy. I was tempted to lay there on top of her and let Diabetes-chan dominate me, but only for a second; handsomely, I collected myself as the reader held their breath, then went back at my opponent, teasing her clit with one set of wiggling fingers as I focused on moderate exercise, pumped her un-mosiaced anime pussy with my other hand as I focused on cutting down complex carbohydrates, and added my tongue to the attack as I focused on replacing sugar with splenda and other artificial sweeteners. Her mouth slowed to a crawl around my shaft as she moaned, until she leaned back and was finished; I forced her over the edge, my defeated opponent kicking her legs helplessly as she came, her body spasming with pleasure until she came down and lay still underneath me.
I leaned up and turned to face her again as she tiredly opened her huge but not creepy in real life anime eyes.
"You beat me," she gasped.
"That's right. Well, in a larger sense, I've managed your symptoms. Like you said, you'll always be part of me, but with proper diet and medication, I can limit the impact you have on my life. Now I'm going to titfuck those big anime knockers." She pressed her boobs together in submission, making it easier for me as I lined my cock up, thrusting into the soft valley her cartoon tits formed. The soft pressure she was creating by holding them together felt great, and I reached down to hold onto her shoulders as I titfucked her. Between how great her boobs felt, her staring up at me with her big dewy eyes, and me running out of ideas for the story and needing to wrap it up, it wasn't long before I came, thrusting hard between her tits, shooting my load onto her chin and the tops of her tits. After I finished I flopped off her with a contented sigh; I just had time to see her leaning up to smile at me before I woke up, drenched in sweat but feeling victorious. I made a mental note to write my experience up before I forgot it - if I ever did; I was sure I'd be thinking about those anime titties every time I made a healthy eating choice or checked my blood sugar.
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