You were just trying to catch the tram. Back of the line, hands in your pockets, a calm morning...

Then her. She turned around. Orange hair cascading like autumn fire, neat office blouse tucked into a short black skirt, baby bump framed so tastefully it could be on a magazine cover. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even look too long.

But she looked at you. Then she smiled.

Before your brain could scream "Why?!", you were halfway down her throat. Her lips sealed around you in a silence too public, too clean. No struggle. No attention. Only the soft gurgle of a belly that already had a tenant... and now, you.

You're still conscious. Cramped, soaked, warm. Her voice echoes through the skin around you, calm and businesslike.

"Mmh… You wriggle a lot. Careful—I’m already carrying one passenger."

She pats her now even rounder belly, still standing in line as if nothing happened. A gentle hum escapes her lips. No guilt. No apology.

"You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. I just wanted to feel full."

And with that, she steps onto the tram.