Alina, our adoptive daughter

Copyright 2026 DiveInstructorPlaya

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WARNING

Be really openminded for this story or don’t read it.

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Chapter 1

Alina has a big surprise.

We had been living in our quiet suburb of Gothenburg for three years when the silence of our childless home became unbearable. For two years, my wife Anna and I had tried everything—tracking ovulation, special diets, and timing our intimacy with military precision. Nothing worked.

Anna was desperate. At thirty, she possessed the kind of body that seemed built for motherhood—voluptuous and fertile. She was a stunning blonde with thick, wavy hair that cascaded past her shoulders, framing a face with full lips and expressive eyes. But it was her figure that turned heads wherever we went: magnificent, heavy breasts that sat high and round on her chest, each the size of a small melon with soft pink areolas, perfectly suited for nursing. Her hips were wide and juicy, spreading generously when she sat, thighs that were thick and strong—classic childbearing hips that had evolved to birth generations. She often wore sheer robes around the house that did little to hide her abundant curves, her body practically radiating fertility.

She had her fertility tested first. The results came back perfect—her eggs were plentiful, her hormones ideal. The doctors suggested that the problem was with me.

I resisted for months but finally submitted to the humiliating examination. The results were devastating: my sperm count was abysmally low, and my mobility was poor. But the final blow came when the doctor leaned in close, almost whispering, telling me that even if my sperm were viable, my penis simply lacked the length and reach to properly deposit semen where it needed to go. "Only a bigger cock would do," he said, looking at my chart, "even if you are a big guy otherwise."

I couldn't bear to tell Anna everything. I simply said we should consider adoption.

She threw herself into the research with the same intensity she had brought to fertility tracking. She discovered that Asia had thousands of orphans, including older children and young adults with no future prospects. When I told her I would be open to adopting an Asian daughter, her eyes lit up with new hope.

For months, agencies rejected us—our income was sufficient but not exceptional, our home spacious but not luxurious. Each rejection drove Anna deeper into obsession. She spent hours on the phone, scrolling through databases, her magnificent breasts heaving with frustration as she paced our bedroom in her sheer black robe, those heavy curves bouncing with each determined step.