Panting like an animal, Jon spit into the sink one last time. She wiped her lips with the back of one hand, stared at the hand, then let her eyes drop to the swell of unborn child distending her waistline. Jon gulped back the bile rising in her throat. In spite of knowing what would happen, she had given in to her wish-induced desire for DeMorrell.
Now she was suffering the consequences.
By the end of the day she had engaged in all manner of sex acts with DeMorrell and, just as DeMorrell had wished, she was now pregnant with his child. More than that, she was nearly full term. DeMorrell had specified that her belly would grow to match that of his other captive, a traitorous former lover named Nora Volancort. The only problem was Nora was no more a woman born than Jon. Nora had once been a man named Jack Merlin, Jon's supposedly deceased grandfather, though DeMorrell did not yet realize it. God help Granddad when he does, Jon thought to herself. Of course, she wasn't sure how things could get much worse. They were both women, both beautiful, and both pregnant with DeMorrell's spawn, each nearly full term.
Jon looked into the mirror, trying to reconcile the reflection there with the one she had seen all her life up until this morning. The face was familiar or nearly so, similar in shape and complexion to her old one, but heart shaped and delicate, the face of a twin sister she had never known. The similarities ended there. Large breasts swollen even larger with milk strained the faded t-shirt to its limits. The shirt's hem rode ridiculously high up on the swollen dome of her pregnancy, exposing the fecund curve of flesh for all to see. Then there were the round hips and pleasantly padded thighs, nothing like her formerly skinny shanks. Nor were the unruly shocks of blood-red hair between her legs and atop her head any more familiar.
From the waist down she was naked. Her pregnancy unnaturally accelerated by the stone, Jon had been forced to shimmy out of the blue jeans DeMorrell had provided for her. The swiftly bulging byproduct of their union growing inside her minute by minute, Jon had cried out for DeMorrell to help her as wave after wave of pain and nausea wracked her unfamiliar new body. DeMorrell had guided her to a bathroom larger than her old bedroom and Jon promptly threw up in the sink. Now she stared in fascination at the stranger in the mirror, this expectant mother with eyes full of fear.
Oh my God, what am I going to do?
The baby inside her gently kicked as if in response.
DeMorrell watched her in the mirror, a predatory grin curving his thin lips. Jon watched him watching her. She hated herself for it, but even now, in spite of all that had happened to her, she still wanted him. He was the only man who could fulfill her needs. On some raw animal level he was hers and she was his. She felt a now all too familiar slipperiness between her legs and struggled to control her thoughts. Unbidden, her mind conjured scenarios and positions, desperately trying to coceive of a way for him to make love to her now that she had, in fact, conceived. From behind with a pillow supporting her belly? Him standing at the edge of the bed while she lay on her side? Her on top and - - Jon furiously shook her head, hating herself, though she knew it was DeMorrell's wish that had inspired her lust for him. Still, she couldn't help it. She wanted this man, craved his touch, yearned for his penis inside her. She was glad to take his seed. Happy that she had pleased him. Proud that she carried his child.
DeMorrell noted her expression, a mixture of lust and revulsion, and nodded as if satisfied. He leaned forward and whispered in Jon's ear, "You can stop being attracted to me."
Jon recoiled, shame and anger and regret hitting her as powerfully as the nausea had moments ago. What had she done? She willingly slept with this monster, let him touch her, let him inside her, and - - and - -
She had no words. What could she say? It was too late to undo. She whirled to face her tormentor, one hand clutched to the gravid mound of her belly. DeMorrell smiled and stepped aside in a mockery of courtesy.
"These chambers are yours," he said, "Make yourself comfortable. Use them as you wish. I think I'll keep you here until the next phase of my experiment begins."
Tears in her eyes, Jon staggered past DeMorrell, not knowing where she was going and not caring. She came to the edge of the huge bed they had so recently made use of and threw herself down upon it, weeping openly.
Footsteps. DeMorrell stood at the edge of the bed now. He leaned over and tenderly laid a hand on Jon's trembling shoulder.
"It's alright, my love," DeMorrell said, his words honeyed poison, "Cry if you wish. In time you will thank me."
"Thank you?" Jon's red head came up in sudden indignation, breasts heaving, one tiny hand balled up into a fist of impotent fury, her voice high and shrill, "Why in the hell would I thank you?! I hate you for what you've done to me! I hope you die, you bastard!"
"Why would you think me?" DeMorrell smiled, amused. He straightened and walked to the door out of the bedchamber, paused, and gave Jon one last look, "You'll thank me because soon you will be wife to the King of the World - - and when you give birth to our child, you will be the mother of a god."
