"She'll limp to the station, makeup running, and they'll nod and take her report. Then they'll ask how she knows the father. "Father?" she'll blink. "It was rape, I don't—" But the procedure requires a paternity test, and that takes time. Nine months of time. By the time she's pushing out the evidence, the refugee who bred her is already in a new country hunting a new underage blonde. The DNA test confirms it. Case closed. But she's the one who's actually closed—locked into a lifetime of raising his spawn, her body permanently branded by his genes, every birthday party a reminder she's just a vessel that got caught."
"2 nice little Gallery´s. And what about Muslima Queens who feel the Grass is greener in Europe as well, and want to dominate and convert big dicked white Guys?"