The craving that struck Mary was more intense than anything she'd ever felt before. She needed pickles and she needed them now. Fortunately, she had a pretty large jar of dill pickles that perpetually lived at the back of her refrigerator--it seemed like every house had one of these, that and a jar of mustard. She grabbed it and opened the jar eagerly, fishing out a particularly large pickle, then took a bite.
It was good, but not enough. It was missing something. Setting down the pickle, she rummaged through her cupboard, searching for just the right thing . . . ah, there it was: peanut butter. Mary unscrewed the lid and dipped her pickle deep into the creamy substance, then munched them both together.
"Heaven," she said, smiling as she fell back onto the couch with the pickle in one hand and the peanut butter in the other. Within an hour, she'd made her way through the entire pickle jar and was just scraping the last bit of peanut butter out of the container. Her stomach gurgled contentedly and she placed her hands on it, as it was bulging a bit under her shirt and pants.
"Food baby," she joked, patting it. But it didn't jiggle like an over-filled stomach after a feast. Creasing her brow, Mary patted it again. Something was different. Gingerly, she lifted up the bottom of her shirt. Her belly had pushed down the waistband of her pants and was jutting out above it, round and firm. She placed both hands on the bulge. It was smooth and warm and--
"Omigosh," she exclaimed, pulling her hands off as something kicked her hands from inside her stomach. In fact, it felt like a lot of somethings--five somethings, to be exact.