You're scrubbing a stain out of your underwear in the kitchen sink with a toothbrush and homemade soap when she sweeps into the kitchen, a lit cigarette dangling from her lip, your favorite mug clasped in her hands.
"I haven't been fucked like that since grade school."
She takes the toothbrush from your hand and replaces it with the cigarette and starts brushing her teeth. Her yellow eyes peek at you from underneath the brim of her hat.
You notice she's wearing one of your nice shirts. It's currently unbuttoned and hung in a loose frame around her suddenly and surprisingly round abdomen.
You regard her belly with a shift in your brow. She responds to the unspoken question through a mouthful of toothbrush.
"Oh, it's just a shadow baby, it's not yours. It'll be out in a few days."
She tosses the toothbrush in the sink and takes her cigarette back. Her mouth and chin are dripping with foam as she continues with a grin.
"Don't worry Master, it's no threat to you."
She takes a sip of whatever's in the mug, gargles, and spits a mouthful of viscous purple fluid all over your clean underwear pile. She takes a drag from the cigarette and tilts her head back, exposing her neck.