No response

He went deeper into the house, passing through the same doorway she'd disappeared through.

She hadn't gone far. He was just in time to see her toss her shirt onto the couch. The white top underneath covered her from neck to waistline, but otherwise left little to the imagination. In profile, the bulge of her belly was even bigger than he'd imagined. She noticed his stare and blushed. Her hands moved automatically, covering her huge belly. He knew she wasn't doing it on purpose, but the move only served to emphasize how disproportionate it was on her skinny body.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to creep up on you," he said. He raised the bag. "Where should I put this?"

"Oh!" She exclaimed, "I'll just—"

She moved closer to take it from him, and as she passed him to go back into the kitchen, her bulging belly brushed against his hip. She gasped. "S-sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he said. Then, after a moment's deliberation, he continued. "I didn't mind."

She averted her face to hide her blush as she set the bag down on the counter.

"Um, do you want something to drink?" She asked, voice timid.

"Just tap water's fine," he answered, figuring a missing can of coke might create more trouble than he wanted.

She filled a glass in the kitchen and they sat down on the three-seater couch, leaving the middle seat empty. She exhaled slowly, face slack in obvious relief. "Ahhh..."

"Tired, huh?"

She nodded, eyes closed. "It's not the weight so much as..." she gestured exaggeratedly, tracing out a sphere 3 feet across around her torso. "I'm just so huge." Her voice made it clear she did not enjoy what the pregnancy had done to her figure.

He nodded thoughtlessly as he took a sip from his glass.

"Samuel? Do you think I'm ugly?"

He was instantly on edge. One of his exes had been a bit rough around—well, there was no sense in mincing words: she had been a manipulative bitch, through and through. And this was one of the questions she had loved asking, either to elicit a compliment, or to **** him into a lie to avoid a fight. And the more often she asked, the more often he found himself doing the latter.

But when he looked at Nancy's expression, he realized her question was borne from genuine insecurity. He chastised himself. Of course it's genuine. Look at her, for God's sake!

"I think you're beautiful," he said honestly.

Her eyes could've lit up a stadium. "Really?"

"Definitely."

"You don't think I'm too...?" She gestured at her body again.

Ah.

"Not at all." He hesitated. "I, uh, I think it's very sexy."

She laid her hands on her stomach self-consciously.

"Damn, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

She shook her head, cheeks warm. "It's OK! Um, thank you." She was silent for a moment, then continued in a small voice, "I like your muscles."

He grinned. "Thanks. Want a feel?"

Before she could answer, he extended his right arm and balled his fist, letting the muscles bunch up all along his arm.

After a moment she touched his forearm gingerly with her fingertips, as if he were made of glass. "Wow."

Her fingers traced along the muscles of his forearm, first with one hand, then both, gaining confidence as she went. He slowly turned it along its axis, letting her see—and feel—it from all sides. When she touched his bicep and found it too thick to wrap her hands around it, she voiced a murmur of appreciation under her breath.

After about a minute or two of letting himself be pawed by the fascinated girl, he shifted into a more comfortable position, draping his left arm along the back of the couch behind her. The movement pulled her out of her reverie and she hastily drew back her hands.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," he replied easily. "I asked, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I just..." She laughed nervously. "I didn't mean to get so, I dunno, obsessed."

He smiled easily. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Can I...?" He asked with a gesture at her belly. "It's fine if you don't want me to, you barely know me, I'm just curious what it—"

"OK," she blurted out. "I mean, alright. If you want to."

"Sure?"

She nodded.

He moved slowly. When his hand made contact with her distended stomach, a tremble went through her. He gave her a few seconds to get used to his touch, then began to rub her, gently, from side to side, as much to help her relax as to get a sense of the size of her.

"Mmmm..." she sighed.

"Feel good?"

"Mm-hm..."

She was relaxing quickly now, much faster than he'd expected: eyes closed, arms laid at her side, palms up, fingers curled, just enjoying his attentions.

He felt a little bad for taking advantage of the opportunity to check out her breasts from up close for the first time. He could tell pregnancy had swollen them from their usual size, but they were still small. Rather than being a bad thing, that complemented her figure somehow, accentuated it. Made her more real, somehow. Her nipples had hardened into noticeable little points, too, and he could clearly make out the darkened areola.

"Nancy?" He asked quietly.

"Mm?"