barucai

[Story] The Morning Commute

Published: March 12th 2025, 9:07:07 am

Hi Hi ✨

Good morning! I don't think you're reading this on your commute to work 😅, if you are, wow you are bold. But this is the perfect story to ready on a work morning. This story takes place some years after the virus outbreak on the fmg-35 universe. Huge women are now the normal and Johan is just trying to get to work.

I wanted a more chill, less size focused story to practice some ideas, but well, it is quite inevitable to talk about the 7 foot women who now dominate this world, still, I wanted to make size a subtle thing in this story, let me know what do you think! Alt images for other passengers and extra shots of out female protagonist are available for tier 3 & 4 members. Cheers!

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The Morning Commute

Johan's alarm blared at 6:30 AM, same as every weekday for the past fifteen years. He silenced it with a practiced slap, his hand finding the button without his eyes needing to open. Five more minutes. Just five more...

By the time he actually dragged himself out of bed, showered, and gulped down a coffee, he was running late. Again. Third time this week, and it was only Thursday.

"Damn it," he muttered, checking his watch as he hastily knotted his tie. The 7:45 train was definitely missed. The 8:10 would have to do, which meant he'd arrive at least twenty minutes late for the department meeting. Thornton would give him that look again—the one that said "I'm not angry, just disappointed," which was somehow worse.

Johan grabbed his briefcase, phone, and a banana for the road. No time for a proper breakfast now. At forty-seven, his metabolism wasn't what it used to be anyway. The slight paunch around his middle was evidence enough of that. His doctor had been on his case about diet and exercise during his last physical, but who had the time?

The elevator in his apartment building was mercifully empty. Small victories. He adjusted his tie in the mirrored wall, frowning at his reflection. The fluorescent lighting did him no favors, highlighting the shine of his bald spot and the bags under his eyes. When had he gotten so... old?

Outside, the morning was crisp but pleasant. Early autumn, his favorite time of year. If he weren't running late, he might have walked part of the way, enjoyed the changing leaves in the park. Another time, perhaps.

The subway entrance was crowded, as usual. Johan swiped his transit card and joined the flow of commuters heading down to the platforms. He checked the digital board—the 8:10 to downtown was on platform 3. And it was a mixed car train. Great.

He briefly considered waiting fifteen minutes for the next train, which would have the men's car option, but Thornton's disappointed face floated through his mind again. Better to risk the mixed car.

Platform A was packed with the usual morning crowd—a sea of suits, casual wear, and uniforms. Johan squeezed his way through, muttering the occasional "excuse me" or "pardon" as he navigated around clusters of commuters.

Near the yellow safety line, a maintenance worker in an orange vest was crouched beside an open panel in the wall, her muscular arms easily manipulating what looked like a heavy piece of equipment. She glanced up as Johan passed, offering a quick nod before returning to her work.

The train arrived with a rush of air and screeching brakes. When the doors slid open, Johan braced himself for the usual rush. Commuters began to push forward, and he found himself swept along with the crowd.

Inside the train, it was standing room only. Johan managed to secure a spot near one of the poles, wrapping his hand around the cool metal as the train lurched into motion. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through emails, trying to prepare for the meeting he was about to be late for.

A deep, pleasant voice broke through his concentration. "Excuse me, sir? Would you like my seat?"

Johan looked up to see an older woman in a smart pantsuit gesturing to her seat. She must have been in her sixties, silver hair cut in a stylish bob, but she stood with the straight posture and easy confidence of someone half her age. Her height and build made her look like she could have been a professional athlete in her younger days.

"Oh, no thank you. I'm fine," Johan replied automatically.

The woman smiled. "I insist. I'm getting off at the next stop anyway, and these old legs are sturdier than they look."

Before Johan could protest further, the train swayed around a curve, causing him to stumble slightly. The woman barely moved, her strong frame easily absorbing the motion.

"Well... if you're sure," Johan conceded, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Absolutely," she said, rising to her full height. Johan had to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact. "Besides, standing gives me a chance to stretch a bit. Desk job keeps me sitting too much these days."

As Johan took the offered seat, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of something—not quite embarrassment, not quite resentment. Here was this woman, clearly older than him, looking like she could run a marathon while he felt winded after climbing a flight of stairs.

"Thanks," he said, settling into the seat. It was designed for a much larger frame, making him feel like a child in an adult's chair. His feet didn't quite touch the floor comfortably, so he shifted his weight to rest on his toes.

The older woman smiled down at him. "Not a problem. Have a good day!"

As promised, she exited at the next stop, along with several other passengers. The train remained crowded, but there was a bit more breathing room. Johan returned to his phone, scrolling through a news feed without really absorbing any of the headlines.

Two stops later, the doors opened again, and a new wave of passengers boarded. A group of college students pushed their way in, laughing and talking loudly. One of them, a young woman with bright blue streaks in her dark hair and massive headphones covering her ears, took the spot next to Johan.

She was immersed in whatever was playing through those headphones, bobbing her head slightly to the beat as she towered over him, even though she was sitting. Her bag dropped onto her lap, part of it spilling over onto Johan's. She didn't seem to notice.

Johan shifted uncomfortably, trying to reclaim his space without making a scene. The student continued to bop to her music, completely oblivious.

More people squeezed into the car at the next stop. A businessman in a suit much nicer than Johan's ended up standing directly in front of him, his briefcase occasionally bumping Johan's knees with the motion of the train. The man didn't acknowledge it, his attention focused on the tablet in his hand.

Johan sighed internally. This was why he preferred the men's car when he could get it. Not because he had anything against sharing space with women—it was just a matter of practical comfort. The world had adapted to the new normal in the decade since the virus, but some spaces were still awkward for mixed company.

He tried to return his attention to his phone, but the cramped quarters made it difficult to focus. Instead, he found himself people-watching, a habit from his younger days that he'd never quite shaken.

Across from him, two businesswomen in sharp suits were engaged in an animated conversation about quarterly projections. One gesticulated enthusiastically as she made her point, her hand nearly grazing the ceiling of the train car.

Near the door, a young mother stood holding the hand of a small boy, maybe five or six years old. The child was looking around with wide, curious eyes, occasionally asking questions that Johan couldn't quite hear over the rumble of the train and the chatter of other passengers.

"Mom, why is that man so small?" the child's voice suddenly cut through a momentary lull in the noise.

"Tyler!" the mother admonished, her cheeks flushing. "We've talked about this. People come in different sizes. It's not polite to comment on it."

Johan pretended not to hear, keeping his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It wasn't the first time he'd overheard such a comment, and it wouldn't be the last. Children born after the virus had never known a world where women weren't typically seven feet tall and built like Olympic athletes. To them, men were the odd ones out.

The train jerked suddenly as it braked too hard approaching a station, sending several standing passengers lurching forward. The blue-haired student next to Johan was jolted out of her musical reverie, her arm bumping against his.

"Oh! Sorry," she said, finally seeming to notice his presence. She shifted slightly, creating a small gap between them, and adjusted her bulky headphones.

"It's fine," Johan replied, though he doubted she heard him over her music, which was loud enough that he could faintly make out the bass line.

Three more stops to go. Johan checked his watch. He was definitely going to be late for the meeting. Maybe he could slip in the back without Thornton noticing. Unlikely, but a man could hope.

The train stopped again, and more passengers exited than entered. Johan had a momentary fantasy of having the seat to himself, but it was quickly dashed as a woman in hospital scrubs claimed the space on his other side. She smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee, and immediately closed her eyes, seemingly intent on catching a few minutes of sleep before her shift.

The blue-haired student was now scrolling through social media on her phone, her thumb flicking rapidly across the screen. Johan caught glimpses of colorful images and videos as she scrolled. Occasionally she would smirk or roll her eyes at something, completely absorbed in her digital world.

Two more stops. Johan's thoughts drifted to the meeting he was about to miss the beginning of. Budget allocations for the next quarter. Riveting stuff. Maybe being late was a blessing in disguise; he might miss Gunderson's infamous PowerPoint presentation on expense reduction strategies.

His stomach growled, reminding him of the banana he'd grabbed on his way out. He reached into his briefcase and pulled it out, peeling it carefully to avoid bumping his neighbors.

The nurse beside him opened one eye at the sound of the peel tearing. "Morning sickness?" she asked with a tired smile.

Johan blinked, confused for a moment before realizing she was making a joke. "Oh, no. Just running late. Missed breakfast."

She nodded sympathetically. "I hear that. Been pulling doubles all week. Can't remember the last time I had a proper meal that wasn't from the hospital cafeteria."

"That sounds rough," Johan said. "What department are you in?"

"Emergency," she replied. "Which is exactly as chaotic as it sounds."

Johan was about to respond when the train lurched again, this time coming to a complete stop between stations. The lights flickered momentarily, and then the overhead speaker crackled to life.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're experiencing a minor delay due to signal issues ahead. We should be moving again shortly. We apologize for any inconvenience."

A collective groan rose from the passengers. The businesswomen across from Johan checked their watches with matching frowns. The mother knelt down to explain the delay to her curious child. The blue-haired student didn't react at all, still lost in her digital world.

"Well, now I'm definitely going to be late," Johan muttered.

The nurse chuckled. "Me too. But what can you do?" She stretched her arms above her head as much as the crowded space would allow, which wasn't much. "I'm Diane, by the way."

"Johan," he replied, somewhat surprised by the introduction. People didn't often make conversation on the morning commute.

"Nice to meet you, Johan. You heading to an office somewhere downtown?"

He nodded. "Banking. Nothing exciting. You said emergency department?"

"Yep. Been there five years now. Never a dull moment, especially since the adaptations." She didn't need to specify what adaptations she meant. The hospital, like most public institutions, had undergone significant renovations after the virus to accommodate the changed physical needs of most women.

"I can imagine," Johan said. "My sister's a pharmacist. She says the medical field changed overnight."

"That's putting it mildly," Diane agreed. "Remember those first few months? When they were still figuring out new dosing guidelines for women? What a mess."

Johan did remember. The chaos of those early days after the virus had spread, when society was scrambling to adapt to a world where 90% of adult women had suddenly grown by feet, not inches, and developed musculature that would make professional bodybuilders envious. Infrastructure, medicine, transportation, clothing—everything had needed rapid redesign.

Their conversation was interrupted by the train lurching back into motion. The overhead speaker crackled again, the operator announcing that they were proceeding to the next station.

"Looks like we're back on track," Diane observed. "Literally."

Johan smiled at the weak joke, checking his watch again. "Still going to be late, though."

"Your boss going to give you a hard time?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Johan replied. "He's more the passive-aggressive type. Lots of significant looks and heavy sighs."

Diane snorted. "I know the type. My department head is like that too. Dr. Henderson. She's brilliant, but god forbid you're two minutes late for a shift change. You'd think you'd committed a capital offense."

The train pulled into the next station, and several passengers exited, including the businesswomen across from Johan. As the doors closed and the train began moving again, Johan realized his stop was next. He'd need to get past the blue-haired student to reach the door.

He turned slightly in his seat. "Excuse me," he said, trying to get her attention.

She didn't react, still bobbing her head to her music, completely engrossed in her phone.

Johan tried again, a bit louder. "Excuse me, miss?"

Still nothing. The train was approaching his station now. In desperation, he lightly tapped her arm.

The student jumped, startled, and yanked off her headphones. "What?" she asked, sounding annoyed.

"Sorry," Johan said quickly. "This is my stop coming up. I need to get out."

"Oh." She blinked, seeming to process this information slowly. "Right. Sure."

But she made no move to get up or make way for him. The train was slowing now, the platform visible through the windows.

"I need to get out," Johan repeated, more urgently.

The student finally seemed to understand. "Oh! Right, sorry!" She stood up quickly, nearly hitting her head on the overhead handrail, and moved into the aisle to let him pass.

Johan squeezed past her with a muttered "Thanks" and made his way to the doors, Diane calling a friendly "Have a good day!" after him.

As he stepped onto the platform, Johan felt the usual relief of escaping the crowded train. He joined the flow of commuters heading toward the exits, already mentally preparing his excuse for being late to the meeting.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Probably Thornton, wondering where he was. Johan sighed and pulled it out to check.

A text from his boss: "Meeting pushed to 9:30. Technical difficulties with the conference room. Don't rush."

Johan stopped in his tracks, causing a woman behind him to nearly collide with his back.

"Watch it, mate," she grumbled, stepping around him.

Johan barely noticed, staring at his phone in disbelief. All that rush, all that stress, for nothing. He could have taken the next train. He could have had a proper breakfast.

For a moment, he considered being annoyed. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. The absurdity of it struck him as hilarious. The universe had a sense of humor after all.

With a lighter step, Johan continued toward the exit. He had time now. Maybe he'd stop at that café near the office, have a proper coffee and something to eat. Start the day over.

As he emerged onto the street, the autumn sunshine greeted him. Johan took a deep breath of the crisp air and smiled. Sometimes, being late worked out just fine.