Put a bun in the oven (Pregnancy)

You know what? That tank top needs to be stretched out a little bit. Besides, Abby is almost 30, it's time for her to have a kid. You go up to Abby, she's still frozen, roll her tank top up to her breasts, and place a hand on her belly. You imagine a swelling starting deep inside of her, that begins to push its way outward, through her tummy. And soon, Abby is 3 months pregnant. A moment later, 4 months. A few more, 6 months. You decide to stop at 7 and 1/2 months. Far enough along that she is undeniably with child, but with enough time left that you can watch her grow naturally for a month or so. You drop the tank top, it now rests on the top crest of her belly. Doing her a favor, you pull it down, and it makes it far enough to just barely cover her belly button, the rest of her tummy hanging out for the world. It's so big, that her breasts rest on it naturally now, like a stand.

You walk a bit ahead of her, and turn to face her before unfreezing time. Instantly, she notices the imbalance in her tummy, and looking down, screeches in terror at the realization that she's 7 and 1/2 months with child. Abby didn't want to be a mother, not yet! Not to mention she'd been working so hard to loose weight so she could attract a man like you. (She had low self esteem).

She's still panicking, and you decide it's an ideal time to walk by. "Hey Abby, oh my God! I didn't know you were pregnant! How far along are you? Who's the lucky father?" You knew she couldn't answer these questions, so this should be fun. She's redder than a tomato in the face. "Oh, John. Oh! Uh, I... don't.. know?" You dramatically scoff. Abby gets your false impression that you're judging her, and becomes even more flustered. "No! No, I mean, I'm not a whore! I know who the father is..." She trailed off, you both knew she didn't.