Fuck… I just opened my eyes and I already feel the weight, like they shoved a ten-kilo rock in my gut. I drag myself to the couch in my pajamas, the t-shirt stuck to my body with cold sweat. I sit down and… ugh, my belly crushes against my thighs. It’s huge, round, tight as a drum. I yank the t-shirt up and a whimper slips out: —Holy fucking shit, what the hell…! The skin’s shiny, stretched to the limit, veins popping. I’m exhausted, like I ran a marathon without moving. I touch it and feel heat, a pulsing heat. Suddenly… CRACK! A spasm. My belly moves on its own, a lump sliding from side to side. —Stop, stop, fuck! —I whisper, voice shaking. Another kick. Something pushes from inside, twists, thrashes. I hear a glug-glug, wet, like swallowing in reverse. Yesterday… yesterday I swallowed something. I barely remember: a silhouette, an open mouth, a whispered “I warned you.” —What the fuck do I have inside? —I sob, clutching my gut with both hands. It moves harder. A fist, a head, something alive that wants out… or to stay. The skin stretches so much I think it’s gonna burst. Sweat pours down my face. —Help! No, no, no…! Another spasm. A roar from deep inside. And then… silence. Just my ragged breathing and that thing pulsing, growing, filling me to the point I can’t even scream. I’m alone. And my belly… my belly won’t stop.