He said I didn't belong on the runway. He said I was too curvy, too soft, too fertile.
Then he made me his.
I came to the casting call hoping for a shot. What I got was owned. Stripped. Claimed. He didn't want me for the clothes. He wanted me for the legacy. My belly. My womb. Our future.
Now I'm not just walking the runway, I'm showing the world what he put inside me. No panties. No apologies. Just silk clinging to the proof of his legacy.
I leak for him. And I'm not done growing.
He bred me for the catwalk. And now the world gets to watch.