“You’re not joking...”

Sue stayed quiet for a few more seconds after I admitted it. I could hear her breathing through the phone, a little uneven.

“You’re not joking,” she said finally. Her voice was lower than before. “You actually want more of them. Pregnant ones. The bigger the better.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause. Then a soft, almost reluctant laugh. “Jesus Christ, Ryan. One night with Lisa and you’re ruined for regular girls.”

I didn’t deny it. The morning air still felt charged, like the night hadn’t fully left my skin. I kept walking, phone pressed tight to my ear.

“Look,” Sue said, “I’m not going to lecture you. And I’m not going to pretend that listening to all that didn’t… do something to me. The phone call part especially. That was fucked up. And hot.” She exhaled. “Malc’s still asleep. I’m sitting on his couch in last night’s dress with my thighs pressed together because of you, so don’t expect me to play the moral high ground here.”

I stopped at a crossing and waited for the light.

“I’ll keep my ears open,” she continued. “If I hear about anyone in a similar situation—lonely, heavily pregnant, husband or boyfriend who’s checked out—I’ll let you know. No promises. But I’ll look.” Her tone shifted, quieter. “And when Lisa calls you in a few months… you better answer. Because the way you described her this morning, the way she looked at you when she said she wanted another one from you… that girl is serious. Don’t ghost her.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.” A small pause. “Now go home and get some sleep before you do something even dumber. Text me later.”

She hung up.

I pocketed the phone and kept walking. The streets were still quiet. My body felt wired, restless. Every time I closed my eyes for a second I saw Lisa’s belly under my hand, the way it shifted when I thrust, the wet spots on her dress, the look in her eyes when she told me I’d be the last one to have her like that.

I turned onto my street.

That’s when I saw her.

She was sitting on the low brick wall outside my apartment building, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders shaking. Dark blonde hair fell forward, half-hiding her face. She wore an oversized grey hoodie and black leggings. The hoodie was stretched tight across a rounded, unmistakable pregnant belly—maybe five or six months, high and firm. She looked young. Very young.

I slowed.

She wiped at her face with the sleeve of the hoodie and glanced up. Her eyes were red and puffy. She was pretty in a soft, almost delicate way—small nose, full mouth, the kind of face that still looked like it belonged on a university campus rather than out on the street at this hour.

“You okay?” I asked, stopping a few steps away.

She sniffed and tried to straighten her posture. The movement made the hoodie ride up just enough to show the underside of her belly.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice thick. Then she laughed once, bitter and wet. “No. I’m not. My parents found out this morning. They… they kicked me out. Said I could come back when I ‘fixed it’ or when the baby was gone. I don’t even know where to go. I just needed somewhere to sit until they cool off. I thought maybe if I waited a few hours…”

She trailed off and looked down at her stomach like she still couldn’t quite believe it was hers.

I glanced at the building behind her—my building—then back at her. The same restless heat that had been sitting under my skin since I left Lisa’s place stirred again, sharper this time.

“How old are you?” I asked carefully.

She lifted her chin. “Nineteen. I turned nineteen two months ago.” She said it like she was used to people assuming otherwise. “I’m not some kid. I just… didn’t plan this. And now I’m sitting on a wall with nowhere to go because my dad can’t look at me without calling me a whore.”

A fresh tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily.

I stood there for a second longer than I should have, staring at the way the hoodie stretched over that tight, young belly. The same pull I’d felt last night with Lisa was already waking up again—different shape, different size, same impossible gravity.

“I live here,” I said, nodding toward the building. “Top floor. You can come up if you want. Sit for a bit. Use the bathroom, have some water, wait it out. No pressure. Just… a place that isn’t a brick wall.”

She looked at me properly for the first time. Suspicion first, then exhaustion, then a fragile kind of hope.

“You sure? I don’t want to be a problem.”

“You’re not.”

She hesitated, one hand resting protectively on the curve of her stomach, then pushed herself carefully to her feet. Standing, the belly was even more obvious—round and high, the kind that made the rest of her look smaller by comparison.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Just until they cool off. Thank you.”

I unlocked the main door and held it open. She stepped past me, the soft side of her belly brushing my arm for half a second. The contact went straight to my cock like a live wire.

I followed her inside.