Chapter Text
Ryan stood at the edge of the sidewalk, almost as if he thought his obvious impatience would make the bus come faster. The improvised superstition didn’t help, clearly, as the bus was still late. It hardly even provided him the comfort that patchwork fantasy sometimes does.
A drop of wetness fell on his forehead, as big and fat as a teardrop. It hit him right between the eyes. He blinked and looked up. The sky hung low with grey clouds roiling overhead. Another, on the cheek this time.
Oh, great.
The bus came round the corner, groaning and hissing to a stop like a rhino issuing a warning sign. He swiped his pass and said a quiet hello to the driver who either didn’t hear him or pretended not to.
He didn’t want to work this shift. He didn’t want to work this job. Moving here was a mistake. The only person he really knew was Carrie—sweet, beautiful Carrie— and he worried anxiously that his benign crush was becoming awkwardly, embarrassingly obvious.
The rain was coming down harder now, tapping like a symphony of little fingers all over the windows. The air was warm of humid, making his scalp feel damp and like his skin had a thin film of sweat on it. He felt lonely, disappointed, and a little sullen, which in turn made him feel uncomfortably immature.
The bus slowed to a stop again, the hydraulics sighing as the doors opened. A figure climbed the short, shallow stairs slowly, coming in to view one lumbering step at a time.
Ryan saw her head first. She flipped her long, jet-black hair, heavy and damp with rain, over her shoulder, revealing her pale face. Her skin was like marble, which only enhanced the natural redness of her lips. She had a long black coat on, the collar turned up high by her ears. As she finished swiping her bus pass it became clear why she was moving so laboriously.
The long jacket she was wearing was fastened at the first two buttons before splitting hopelessly into an open triangle around her large, round middle. Her belly jutted prominently from her middle, the black shirt she wore coming to its inadequate conclusion at her navel which was spread flat at the end of the mass, the entire underside shamelessly naked. She placed her delicate hand under it, her back arching dramatically as she waddled in a widened gait through the aisle of the bus. Though the first rows were supposed to be especially reserved for the disabled and pregnant women, all the seats were filled, with all the occupants stubbornly averting their gaze in order to keep their seats.
“Can I sit here, sir?” the gravid woman asked to a man sitting in a two-person bench. He was by himself but was sitting near the aisle regardless, effectively hogging the entire seat to himself. “I…hngh…could really sit down.”
“Err…sorry, occupied,” he grumbled. His eyes darted down to the large protrusion of her middle and an expression of concern and disgust ghosted across his face.
“O-okay…”
The woman’s broad hips swayed back and forth as she heaved her weight through the bus. The vehicle jerked forward as it started up again and she reflexively gripped the back of a seat for stability, huffing and puffing as her thick thighs trembled under the heft of her belly. Ryan had never seen a woman so massively pregnant in real life before. She had to have been carrying more than one baby, she was just too big otherwise.
He watched as she asked another woman to join her space only to be instantly rejected. At this rate, he thought, this poor woman was going to end up sitting on the floor.
“Hey,” he called out to her, scooting over towards the window. “You can sit here if you want.”
The woman’s face broke into a grateful smile as she joined him on the bench. He watched as she slowly lowered herself down, grunting softly as she struggled not to crash all her weight into the spot. She sighed in relief once she was in place, her hands resting on the upper hemisphere of her belly, the mound taking up the space between her legs.
“Thank you so much,” she said, her voice sweet and feminine. “My back is just killing me! I don’t know if I could have stood the whole way!”
“Y-yeah,” he answered, trying to will himself not to stare at the tight, protruding mass of her middle. The woman tried to pull her shirt down over her navel, but it slid stubbornly up the ascending curve, the thick slice of her pale skin proudly and obstinately visible. “I can imagine. Twins?”
She shook her head, her fingers tracing large, loose circles over her belly. “Close! Triplets. I’ve still got about two months left with these guys before I pop. Unless they pop me first!”
Ryan swallowed heavily. Triplets. He’d never actually seen a woman pregnant with triplets in real life before. He had seen a lot of pictures of them online— along with quadruplets, the even rarer quintuplets…He’d probably scoured the forgotten double digit pages of google images for every known picture of Octomom, including the ones where she looked full-term at only 14 weeks, her body expanding so rapidly with babies that at the point where most women are hardly showing she looked like she was ready to start pushing. Ryan didn’t care about bondage or cat ears or any of that daddy stuff— Ryan had a long-established and undeniable taste for pregnant women, the bigger the better.
He realized he’d been staring at her full womb and the movements of her fingers around it for far too long when he heard her giggle sweetly. He blinked and cleared his throat, his face turning hot with embarrassment.
“Oh—erm…triplets. Sheesh, that’s…uh…”
“Big?” she offered, continuing to scratch and rub at the mound, hopelessly tugging her shirt down only for it to predictably resist her. “Heavy? Full? All of the above?”
Ryan laughed nervously. “Ah, yeah. All that.”
The woman laughed, full-bodied now, the touch of her hands on her belly a little more earnest now. She leaned back in her seat and massaged the sides of her swollen womb, seeming to enjoy the sensation. Ryan was undoubtedly aroused by this little show, trying to mentally will his building erection to obey his command to not embarrass him.
“I like you, Ryan,” she said, her red lips pulled into a smile that revealed her bright white teeth. “I think you and I are birds of a feather. And you’re the only one willing to be nice to me.”
The rubbing of her belly was almost hypnotic. Her thumb lingered over her bellybutton, teasing the flattened nub with a few quick up and down motions. She seemed to enjoy the feeling, humming softly in response to the stimulation.
“Um, yeah, no problem,” he stammered. “Wait— how did you know my name?”
She laughed again, her voice sounding darker; not more sinister, but greater and more powerful. Her eyes, blue like the eyes of a Siberian husky, shone bright and piercing, like they were being lit from within.
“I think good men should be rewarded. Don’t you?”
Ryan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Looking down at her middle, he could see that her womb was trembling, internal movement causing it to shift subtly on her lap. One of her babies’ feet pressed against her uterus, a visible bulge forming on the surface of her skin.
His vision was becoming eclipsed by an unknown object. Only after a moment did he realize the woman was leaning in towards his face, her lips parting slightly, her eyelids dropping into an amorous partial-liddedness. Her mouth was moving subtly, as if she was whispering to herself, the words foreign and indecipherable to him.
Her lips brushed his, as soft as rose petals. The rain pounded on the windows, merging with the beating of his heart.
“If they ask and you answer, your desire becomes a command.”
She kissed him and the feeling was electric. He swore his hair was standing on end. It was like someone was stunning him with the only taser that felt good. Lightning struck behind him and filled the entire bus, thunder crashing immediately behind it with a sound like a mountainside crumbling into the sea.
The kiss broke like he’d been shoved backwards. At first he thought she had pushed him away, but then he realized the bus had come to a jerking halt. Nobody on the bus was giving any indication that a dramatic weather event had just occurred inside the vehicle.
The woman hoisted herself up, her smile sweet and pleasant as usual.
“This is my stop!” she said. “Thank you again!”
She was already at the doors when he managed to call out, “Wait…! I never got your name!”
If she heard him or not he couldn’t tell. She was already gone.
Ryan stopped in the Starbucks next to his work, trying not to think too hard about the strange encounter on the bus. Nobody else seemed to think anything was amiss, so it must not be.
I just got excited, he thought as he approached the counter, because she was so beautiful.
A girl in her green hat and apron appeared by the register. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and she was young and slender, but cute.
“What can I get for you?” she asked, her tone a touch more pleasant than he expected for someone under the duress of a customer service position.
“Erm…just a small coffee,” he answered.
“Anything else?”
Still feeling like he was crazy, and admittedly a little horny, he muttered without thinking, “A pregnant girl maybe.”
The barista looked up. “What was that?”
Ryan’s face burned hot. “Uh—nothing. Sorry. Just the small black coffee. Just one.”
Tapping the digital register, the cashier replied, “One tall black coffee. Name?”
“It’s…” he started to answer, only to be stalled by the sight in front of his eyes.
Behind the register, the pretty cashier was gripping the counter, almost as if she’d been struck by a great internal pain. She grunted, gritting her teeth, and Ryan was about to ask if she needed help when she arched her back suddenly, sending a firm, taut, and definitely pregnant belly forward. The girl’s apron was tented over the bulge, the unmistakable roundness of her fertile middle pressing outward against her uniform. Her breasts seemed larger as well, plump and full inside her shirt.
She wasn’t pregnant when I walked up here, right?
“What was the name, sir?”
Ryan blinked. The girl’s demeanor was totally unphased, as if she had not been reeling from sensation just moments before. She didn’t act like anything about her physically was unchanged. She looked like she’d always known she was about 7 months pregnant.
“It’s…it’s Ryan.”
She poured him the coffee and he took the cup, sliding a dollar into the tip jar.
Holding her hands under her heavy swell, she said, “Thanks!” before waddling to the other side of the bar.
Shaking his head, Ryan thought to himself, Is it just me, or is something weird going on?