Six months pass before I ride that train again - and when I finally do, I'm wearing an oversized hoodie that does nothing to hide the swell of my belly.
On that fateful day, I had gone home and cried myself to sleep, trying desperately to forget it all. But even after you were gone, you still managed to leave a little reminder of what you did to me.
When my pants started feeling a bit tight, I told myself it was stress weight, or that my clothes had shrunk in the wash. Then winter rolled around and my clothes kept getting tighter and tighter, and I told myself it was from overindulging during the holidays. I refused to think about why I was only gaining weight around my lower abdomen; instead, I just kept on wearing thick sweaters and puffy jackets to conceal the changes in my body.
But as the weeks dragged on, it became harder and harder to ignore what was happening inside me. I found myself rubbing my belly unconsciously. Then I began to feel a faint fluttering, like butterflies in my stomach, only it became stronger and more frequent as time passed. The first time I saw movement I nearly fainted.
Finally, after spending half an hour psyching myself up, I took off my shirt and looked at myself in the mirror. My belly had swollen into a taut roundness that could only mean one thing: I was pregnant. A complete stranger had taken me against my will and now I had to carry the result for at least four or five more months. I sobbed uncontrollably for hours.
Now I'm back on the train, one hand holding a pole, the other holding my belly. It's crowded, just like it was on that day. Suddenly I feel a pair of arms wrap around my middle and start fondling me. You don't need to threaten me with a knife this time - you know I am so utterly broken that I won't resist.
You reach into my pants and start fingering me, and the only thing I can do is lean into your touch and try not to moan too loudly. Once you've had your fill of that, you pull down my sweatpants - the only pants that fit me now - and shove your cock inside me. I feel you thrusting in time with the rattling of the train car, and just as we're approaching the next stop, you shove yourself in as deep as possible and dump a hot load in me. The sensation is enough to force me to climax.
You keep your cock inside me for several more stops, fucking me at a slow, almost casual pace. I feel your cum and my own arousal dripping down my inner thighs. Finally, after what feels like forever, you pull out. It happens so fast I can barely process it - you tuck yourself back into your trousers, yank up my sweatpants, and disappear into the crowd.
You've won. You got what you wanted: knocking up a stranger with zero consequences. I am left here, clutching the train pole for support, silently sobbing over this latest violation as the baby kicks and squirms in my belly. (Then again, it could be babies. I never got an ultrasound, and with my luck I'm probably carrying multiples.)
Part of me is terrified that no matter what I do or where I go, I can never escape you.
Part of me hopes I never do.
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