Looking down at the baby in the stroller, shock and panic runs through your mind. If you leave the Woman's body, than she'd fall towards the ground, and you had no idea how long it would take her to wake up and on the other hand, if she wakes up immediately, depending on how she fell she might injure herself and that'd be horrible not only for the woman's life... but for the Baby's as well. So you do the obvious choice and pick up the still crying child.
He just cried and cried and cried as you cradled him in your arms, trying to burp him. When he kept crying you checked his pants to see if he soiled himself. When his diapers were clean, you realized what must be wrong. He was hungry. For some reason you could tell that the Woman didn't bring any baby food, and that she was lactating. Looking down at your new squishy chest you saw milk leaking from your breasts and soaking into your bra, you knew what had to be done, and for some reason it enthralled you.
Pulling down the collar of your summer dress down past your shoulder and your left breast. People on the street started giving you dirty and confused looks but you were focused on feeding 'Your Child'. Heeding to the muscle memories of your body, you placed the child on your exposed breast and felt a shiver run down your spine as he latched on and began suckling away. Holding your 'Son' close to your chest you begin walking down the street again pushing the stroller and point blank avoiding the dark stares from other people.
"Oh... now this isn't so bad... I wonder why women complain about giving birth... this is great... isn't it... Timmy" You say, searching through the woman's memories to learn more about your host.
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