You come to

The first thing you notice is a knocking on the door. "Miss?" a woman's voice asks, sounding concerned. "Miss, are you alright?"

Shit. You must have made a racket.

"Yeah," you say, your voice a little shaky. "Yeah," you repeat, trying to sound more steady and trying to come up with an excuse. "I just... fell while I was trying something on."

"You're sure you're alright?" she asks, sounding a little skeptical.

"Yes, I'm fine, just a little shaken," you reply.

"Alright," she says and you hear her walking away.

You sigh a breath of relief. Then you remember you still have a dildo inside of you. With another rising panic, you pull it out with a plop, and again feel a river of thick goo ooze from your slit.

"Shit, shit shit!" you whisper. Looking up at your companion you ask, "did you really cum in one of those things?"

"Sure did," he replied with a broad grin, far too calmly.

"Shit, shit, shit!" you continue, louder. You push your fingers into yourself and try to scrape out as much as possible. "I can't get pregnant! I can't believe I did that!"

The man with you watches as you continue to flip a shit.

"Do you have any more wipes?" you ask. He reaches into his bag and hands them to you. You promptly return your attention to your crotch, which continues to weep a thick white ooze.

You wipe yourself up as best you can and stand back up. "I can't believe I let you do that," you say to the man. "I probably just got myself pregnant!"

The man shrugged. "I don't think you can get pregnant from fake cum."

Fake? Could it be?

"What? How do you know it's fake?"

"What's leaking out of you right now doesn't look like my cum."

You thought about that for a minute. It did look and feel very similar to the last batch of fake cum you had delivered into your snatch. It didn't look particularly similar to how your own cum used to look, either. Another wave of calm hits you. You breathe a deep sigh of relief.

You finish cleaning yourself up and get dressed back into your original clothes. You are getting ready to leave the changing booth when the man nods at the pile of clothes and asks, "aren't you going to let me buy these for you?"

"Oh... Yeah!" You respond, picking everything up. You take it all to the register, where the man pays with one of his credit cards.

You take your bags from the clerk and leave the store, ready to say goodbye to your mysterious stranger, but he speaks first. "So, you want some jewelry?" he asks, holding up his bag to incinuate his meaning.