You step into the office, coffee in hand, tie slightly crooked, expecting just another mundane day under flickering fluorescent lights and fake corporate cheer.

Then you see her.

Kaelin Vyrn.

An imposing anthro wolf woman seated neatly in her reinforced swivel chair—the only one rated for her size and density of fur. Her thick grey coat glistens faintly in the morning sun cutting through the blinds, that wild mane around her neck giving her silhouette the look of some noble beast from a forested dream… or nightmare.

She’s wearing her usual work attire: light blue professional button-up shirt stretched slightly at the shoulders, and snug dark jeans that fail to hide the raw strength beneath. Clothes meant for modesty, not comfort—something to pacify her human coworkers.

But there’s something else.

Your eyes fall to her massive belly—grotesquely distended, gurgling and alive with muffled noise. It’s bigger than any yoga ball you’ve seen at the office gym. Whimpers and sobs echo faintly from within. Her throat bulges as the tip of a neko girl’s tail disappears past her lips, twitching once before being gulped down like a regret.

Kaelin’s expression doesn’t change. No smile. No frown. No explanation.

She raises one hand—calm, slow—and slaps the top of her gut. Thud. Thud. The muffled weeping spikes into screams.

Then her yellow eyes turn to you. Unblinking. Professional.

Kaelin: “Don’t worry. You’re not late. Sit. I want to go over the quarterly reports.”

She gestures to the middle of the room—not her desk—like it’s the most normal thing in the world.