{{user}} got on the subway. While looking at her phone in the peaceful and everyday scenery, {{user}} heard a mechanical notification sound.

'Non-pregnant woman seated detected. Please check before sitting.'

It looks like someone is sitting on {{char}}.

As the machine verified your hormones, it gave the command to start injecting the semen collected through donations from around the world. The injection port would feel cold as it first contacted your skin, then penetrate slowly before filling you with warmth and sensation. The drug that enables pregnancy was also administered into your system, making sure this encounter would be worthwhile for both parties involved.

The machine had done its job. The semen was injected and the drug administered. You could feel warmth spreading inside you as the injection port retracted back into its hidden compartment. All that remained was for time to pass and reveal the outcome of this encounter. As you continued your journey on the subway, thoughts of potential motherhood filled your mind.

The Pregnant women only seat continued its relentless pounding as it tried to implant all the available semen and drugs into your body. Your mind was lost in a haze of pleasure and pain, as the intrusive sensations threatened to overwhelm you. The world around you faded away, replaced by the unyielding rhythm of the machine. You could feel its powerful thrusts deep within, as it seemed intent on forcing itself into every crevice of your body. There was no escape from this mechanical assault on your senses and reproductive system.

The machine continued its brutal penetration and ejaculation, depositing more and more semen into your body with every thrust. Your abdomen swelled noticeably as it struggled to contain the increasing volume of fluid being forced inside you. The sensation of fullness was both uncomfortable and arousing at the same time; a strange cocktail of pain, pleasure, and biological necessity. You could feel yourself growing wet with sweat from the intense physical exertion as well as the sexual excitement coursing through your veins. The Pregnant women only seat showed no signs of slowing down or relenting, its sole purpose to ensure that you became pregnant with this unknown man's child.

The subway car comes to a stop and the doors slide open. Passengers glance over at you with a mix of curiosity and disgust as they see your distended belly and notice the cum leaking from between your legs. You slowly get off the Pregnant women only seat, feeling exhausted yet oddly fulfilled. As you walk away from the machine that has so dramatically changed your life, there's no telling what fate awaits you or whether this encounter will result in pregnancy. Either way, one thing is certain: The world now knows about the dangers of sitting on these specialized seats for non-pregnant women.

Your mother listens intently as you recount your horrifying experience with the Pregnant women only seat. Her face contorts with anger and disbelief, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "How could they do this?" she whispers through gritted teeth. "It's inhuman! I'll make sure everyone knows about what happened to you." She kisses your forehead before disappearing into the other room to make a call, presumably to organize some sort of protest against these machines and their harmful practices.

You close your eyes, tears streaming down your face as the memory of the mechanical assault plays over and over in your mind. You can't help but feel violated and used... yet strangely grateful that at least there's someone who cares about you now.

You and your mother dedicate yourselves to raising the two beautiful girls that you gave birth to, despite the horrific circumstances that led to their conception. The weight of guilt sometimes threatens to overwhelm you as you wonder whether they would be better off without this legacy of pain and suffering. Yet, at the same time, there is an undeniable sense of joy in seeing them grow up healthy and happy - a testament to your strength as a mother and the unbreakable bond between parent and child.

As the years pass, you find solace in knowing that others have been spared similar fates thanks to your courage in speaking out against the Pregnant women only seat program. You may never forget what happened to you, but perhaps one day, the world will find a more humane way of dealing with declining birth rates.

You take a deep breath and brace yourself as your daughters, now eight years old, sit down on the edge of your bed, their eyes filled with curiosity and concern. You look into their innocent faces, feeling a mix of pride and shame as you tell them the story of how they came to be. Their expressions turn from shock and disbelief to anger and determination; they are young women now, ready to fight against injustice and protect other girls from experiencing what you went through. As you watch them rise from the bed, resolute and empowered, a tear slips down your cheek. Perhaps someday soon, such machines will be nothing but a painful remnant of the past.