Days passed. Then a week. Then two. And as the time passed, Jon became less overwhelmed by the impossibility of her upside down life. At first she had been amazed and intrigued by the stone, then fearful for herself and her family. Soon after that she was aghast at the body DeMorrell had made hers and the acts he had tricked her into performing with it. For a day or so after DeMorrell retracted his wish that she desire him sexually she had wept and wallowed in shame. Now, coming up on week three, Jon was increasingly restless. She was tired of seeing the same suite of rooms day after day and, though it was hard to imagine in light of the incredible events she had lived through so far, she was bored.
Her confinement was comfortable and her every desire except for freedom was for the most part fulfilled. When she complained to DeMorrell, through her maid, of course, that she was going stir crazy and petitioned for some form of entertainment her captor had willingly complied. Jon was provided with books and music and movies, even her beloved video games, but nothing which would allow her to know what was going on in the outside world. Specifically, no TV, no radio, no newspapers and, especially, no computer!
She had it in her to be upset by this last denial most of all, but whenever Jon thought she was growing too unhappy with her well-appointed prison she reminded herself that her grandfather, just as much a pregnant prisoner as she, was probably a lot less comfortable in her dungeon cell somewhere in the bowels of DeMorrell's fortress. All requests to communicate with "Nora" were denied, even after Jon conjured up the inspired excuse of wishing to consult with another expectant mother about her own pregnancy.
So, it was with these minor restrictions that Jon was left to her own devices. After the first week, it distressed her to realize her already massive belly was growing even bigger. How much longer did she have? Just how big would she get? How bad would it hurt? No ammount of distractions could keep her from endlessly pondering the uniquely female agony that lay in her future, and as Jon inevitably grew more accustomed to her new body and condition she gained a better appreciation for what her own mother must have gone through not once but several times.
She tired easily now and usually took a nap in the early afternoon. It seemed as if she were always hungry and any food she craved, no matter how strange, DeMorrell had instantly prepared for her by a master chef. Getting up and down was vastly more difficult with her belly in the way and she waddled when she walked, all of which complicated her numerous trips to the bathroom. Worse, it was those frequent trips to relieve herself, and the change in wardrobe they neccessitated, that irritated Jon the most. Simply put, it was easier to hike up her new skirts and dresses than it was to struggle into and out of pants, especially when she was in a hurry.
None of which was to say tha Jon had given up. She had yet to surrender to her new role of captive and concubine. She still dreamed up various schemes for escape or at least getting a message to the outside world, but the fact of the matter was, except for her imprisoned grandfather, she had no allies in this place. Jon didn't even know where she was. Did DeMorrell live in America? Europe? Somewhere else entirely?
Slowly, Jon came to realize her only hope of escaping this perfumed prison was through DeMorrell himself. If she could draw him out, trick him somehow, outwit him, then she might escape to somewhere beyond the stone's influence, even if she couldn't sidestep the bloody climax of her unwanted pregnancy.
But how?
It was thoughts such as these that occupied Jon when there came a knock on the door to her chambers.
