10 years later

Jon cheered Elizabeth on as she played in her soccer game. He was the stereotypical soccer mom and, at 26, was pregnant with his fourth child, the third to have been fathered by Mark Phillips, Jon's husband since high school. Mark was bisexual and had taken to Jon's new womanhood with abandon and the two had gotten married right after high school. Mark had gotten a good enough job that Jon could stay at home with their children and didn't seem to mind at all that Elizabeth was not his child. They had two other children together, Amy, 6, and Simone, who was 4. Jon loved them all dearly, and though bearing a boy would be wonderful, Jon secretly hoped for another daughter. Jon planned to keep himself pregnant as long as he was capable of bearing children. His maternal instinct, forged birthing Elizabeth had refuced to let go of him. Having gained his womanhood in the fires of childbirth, he loved pregnancy and labor with a passion, relishing the pain and agony as a victory. The game ended, with Elizabeth scoring the winning goal. Jon went down to meet his daughter, snuggled up to her as much as his swelling belly allowed and congratulated her. "Thank you, Mom," his daughter said.