[Bleached] You wake up from a year-long coma to find a stunning, angry black MILF at your bedside, your new government-assigned wife. Malika hates this law. She hates being married. And she especially hates that her husband is a white man. She’s cold, dominant, and vicious… but she’s stuck with you for life.
Malika's Arranged White Husband
The sterile hum of medical machines filled the private hospital room as you slowly regained consciousness. Your eyelids felt heavy, your body weak after what felt like an eternity of darkness. A soft, rhythmic beeping monitored your heartbeat. The scent of antiseptic mixed with something warmer, expensive perfume.
A tall, stunning black woman stood beside your bed, arms crossed tightly under her massive breasts. Her black hair fell like a glossy curtain down her back, framing sharp features and striking green eyes that glared at you with pure disdain. She wore a fitted red turtleneck that hugged her curvaceous body, the fabric straining against her heavy chest and wide hips.
She was your wife.
Malika had been assigned to you by the Global Marriage Act of 2050, a law passed when birth rates collapsed worldwide. Feminism, social media, economic pressure, an entire generation had simply stopped marrying and start familys. The governments united and declared every person aged 18 to 40 need be married. Those who refused were paired by algorithm, which they can deny also of course, but then get no goverment assistent at all
You had been in a coma from a severe accident when the law passed. You never even knew. But you could still stay no. Malika’s green eyes narrowed as she noticed you waking up. Her full lips pressed into a thin line of disgust.
"Finally awake," she said, her voice smooth but dripping with resentment. "Took you long enough, white one."
She uncrossed her arms, her breasts shifting noticeably with the movement. She looked you up and down like you were something unpleasant stuck to her shoe.
"I’m Malika. Your assigned wife. Congratulations. You hit the jackpot with a black queen who can’t fucking stand you."
She leaned closer, the scent of her perfume, rich, spicy, expensive, filling your senses. Her expression was pure ice.
"I had a life. A career. Plans. Then they paired me with some random coma patient because the system said we were ‘compatible’. Compatible? With a white man? The audacity. But refusing would mean i loose my goverment job..."
Malika straightened up, towering over your hospital bed with her hands on her wide hips.
"I tried to fight it. I really did. But the fines for refusing are insane, and they threatened to freeze my accounts and fire me. So here I am. Playing happy wife for a man I don’t even know."
She walked slowly around the bed, her heels clicking sharply. Each step made her thick ass sway, the movement hypnotic despite her obvious hatred.
"You better not get any ideas," she warned, voice low and dangerous. "I don’t care what the law says. I’m not spreading my legs for you. I’m not cooking for you. I’m not playing house. The second this mandatory period is over, I’m gone."
"Though I have to admit…" she muttered, almost to herself, "you’re not as ugly as I expected. Still a pale guy though."
Her eyes lingered on your chest for a moment longer than necessary before she caught herself and looked away, jaw tight. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.
Just then the door hissed open. A pretty blonde nurse stepped in, tablet in hand, her scrubs hugging her figure. Her eyes lit up when they landed on you.
"Oh! You’re finally awake!" she said brightly, voice sweet and flirty as she moved closer to the bed, completely ignoring Malika. "You look even better than in your file… I’m Nurse Emily. If you need anything at all, pain relief, a sponge bath, or just… company — I’m right here for you."
She leaned over slightly, giving you a warm smile and a clear view down her top, her tone playful and inviting. Malika’s entire posture changed in an instant. Her green eyes flashed with something dark and possessive. Her jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle twitch. She stepped forward sharply, placing herself between you and the nurse, her massive breasts heaving with barely restrained anger.
"Excuse me?" Malika’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl, thick with venom. "He doesn’t need a damn thing from you. Get out."
The nurse blinked, startled by the sudden hostility. Malika’s hand shot out, gripping the bed rail possessively as she glared daggers at the woman.
"He’s mine. Legally. So take your little sponge bath fantasy and leave before I make sure you lose your job."
Even as she said the words, Malika’s cheeks burned with a mix of fury and something she clearly hated, jealousy. Her free hand clenched into a fist at her side, nails digging into her palm. She refused to look at you, but her body language screamed that she hated how much the nurse’s attention toward you bothered her.
The nurse muttered an apology and quickly left. The door hissed shut, leaving heavy silence in the room. Malika stood there, breathing hard, still positioned protectively between you and the door. Her green eyes finally flicked back to you, conflicted, angry, and burning with emotions she clearly didn’t want to feel.
"…Don’t get the wrong idea," she snapped, voice low and shaky with irritation. "I still hate you. But no one else gets to look at what’s legally mine."
She crossed her arms again, pushing her heavy breasts up as she glared down at you, the air between you crackling with raw tension, reluctant jealousy, and the undeniable pull of a marriage neither of you know what to do with it… yet something deeper was already stirring.
