"S-sally? Ungh," Mark tried to sit up in his newly female form, but that massive dome of a belly kept him from bending at the middle. "Sally? Are you there? Is - - Is this real?" Mark coughed, unsure of his new voice, and wriggled helplessly for a moment. One hand snaked up, across, and down the distended surface of the suddenly-there pregnancy only to quickly retreat in shock. "Ew! Oh God - - Sally?" Sally continued to watch the new woman in unblinking fascination, rather like a cat monitored the movements of a crippled mouse across the kitchen floor.
"Sally? Answer me damnit! Help me!" Mark rocked back and forth like a turtle, breasts flopping, trying to lever up onto her elbows, and Sally smirked at her difficulty. Mark finally managed to make it onto her side and then pushed herself up onto her feet. Free of the bed's support she staggered forward drukenly, front-heavy and off, balance before catching herself. Wincing, Mark's hands went briefly to the tenderly swollen breasts now adorning his chest before retreating once more.
Sally squirmed slightly, rubbing her thighs together. It aroused her in the extreme to watch her former husband struggle to cope with "her" new reality. It did not take long for common sense and the instincts of Mark's new body to decide upon the classic posture in which most pregnant females took comfort (what little they could get in their condition); torso leaned back, belly thrust out, arms bent, hands braced on her rump. It was the spitting image of her sister as she was all those years ago, but it was really Mark. The thought was deliciously exciting.
Sally was twenty nine, blonde and athletic, a regular devotee of the gym and
the salon. She knew she was hot, but it was the product of years of careful work and maintenance. Shareen, her younger sister by six years, looked nothing like her. Their mother had completely switched up types after divorcing Sally's father. Sally's new stepfather was a handsome black pharmaceutical rep named Darell and the half-sister that quickly followed their wedding had always been a pretty girl, everyone said so. Dusky mocha skin and a long mane of glossy black curls, Shareen had inherited a natrual, confident look that outshone Sally. No one outside of family and friends would have ever suspected they were related, and comparisons sometimes got even more painful as Shareen had begun to blossom into a woman. Pathetic as it was, the jutting breasts of her early-blooming little sister are what eventually drove Sally to get her own implants.
Now Mark was Shareen reborn, eighteen years old and heavy with child. There was no going back now, not until she gave birth anyway. The medallion would not allow it, not that Sally wanted to stop the process she had set in motion. Mark giving birth, a baby sucking at her breasts, fulfilling the role her sister never got to experience, Sally almost came from the thought of it. It served so may pursoes too! Mark would be too busy with the time bomb about to explode in her belly to interfere with Sally's plans AND a great wrong would be righted. Her marriage would be over, but that was no great loss. Mark had begin to bore her, but this was new and exciting. More than that, in one specific way, he deserved it. Beside, she would make sure Mark had someone new to take care of her and the baby.
Shareen was sixteen when Sally had married Mark and moved away. Just two years later Shareen had turned up in town for a suprise visit, pregnant and glowing, her new fiance in tow. Sally couldn't believe her little sister had thrown away colloege to start a family, but she was happy for her all the same. It was a whirlwind trip before visiting her new inlaws and in the rush to leave Shareen had forgotten her nightgown. Not long after there was the accident.
A drunk driver had plowed into their car, killed Shareen and the unborn baby. The fiance survived, but he was never the same. Once he got out of the hospital he switched up careers, joined the State Police and volunteered for highway patrol, hunting down drunk drivers. He was passionate about his work, dedicated and driven, but hollow inside.
"Oh my God, Sally," Mark looked down at her shaking hands, the heavy breasts and swollen belly that, in all likelihood, she could not even see past, "Wh-what did you do? Why w-would you DO THIS?!"
"Easy, little sister," Sally closed the gap between then with one long-legged stride. Mark recoiled, but was not very agile in her new condition. Sally smoothly took hold of the medallion with an unused hankerchief and lifted the chain up off of the now slightly shorter Mark. Sally had always been taller than Shareen. Sally, tall and athletic. Shareen, shorter and more curvaceous. It deligthed her to know Mark had to look up to her now - -and that the biggest curve on her new body was that belly.
"Wh-what are you talking about?" Mark flailed at Sally ineffectually, trying to push her away, but he had lost lots of upper body strength and di not yet know how to use the not quite corresponding strength increase in her lower body, which was too concerned with trying to successfully tote around eight months of baby to do much else. Sally backed off and there was a familiar noise. Ch-chik! The fake electronic shutter noise of a smartphone taking a picture. Mark startled at the sudden light of the flash like a nervous mare and jerked suddenly, producing a not awesome feeling in her bulging belly. Mark groaned, one hand pressed to the side of her womb, and there was a second noise and flash followed by a third.
"Stop - - taking pictures!" Mark gulped back nausea. "Stop - - you bitch!"
"Look," Sally held up the screen in front of Mark eyes, tawny brown eyes that had once been blue. Sally scrolled through the photos. It was her sister just as she had been all those years ago, but Mark had never seen her naked and pregnant. Mark stared in confusion and then growing horror. He knew Sally had somehow made him a woman, a pregnant woman, but the pictures on the screen - - they were, "Shareen? You turned me - - how, I mean, why, I mean - - Sally, this is sick!"
"I know, but I think you'll understand why I'm doing things this way soon enough," Sally said in an off-hand way. She had settled on the last picture. I was the most decent. By then Mark had the sense to try to cover herself.
One arm rested atop the pronounced curve of her pregnancy, curling around to cover the expanse of two golden coffee-brown breasts mashed together. She was in the process of turning away, the big belly shown in profile, herother supporting it. There was the naked expanse of one hip, the curve of her sweetly rounded buttock, a hint of one nipple creeping up near the corner of her elbow. Mass of black curls flying, mouth open in surprise, it was a very candid shot, but very exciting. Sally licked her lips. This next bit was going to really kick things into high gear.
She scrolled through her contacts. There. CALVIN ANDRUE. The man who had almost been her brother in law. She attached the picture to a text. LOOK WHAT I FOUND. : )
She waited a few minutes and a message came back. WHY WOULD U SEND ME THAT? Then another. WHY DOESN'T SHE HAVE ANY CLOTHES ON? And another. HERE THE HELL DID THAT PIC COME FROM?
Mark watched in a mixture of fear and confusion, desperately trying to come up with a way to convince Sally to change her back, not yet understanding that was impossible, "Sally - - Sally?Who are you texting? Talk to me!" Sally ignored her new sister. Instead she gave her a tiny shove that sent her tumbling back down to the rumpled bed. Confident that Mark would be occupied with trying to get back to a sitting position for the next few minutes Sally typed up a response.
I CAN'T BRING BACK SHAR, BUT I CAN DO NEXT BEST THING. U CAN HAVE A FAMILY. COME OUT ON THE NEXT PLANE.
I CAN'T. MY JOB, came the reply. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?
Sally pursed her lips and considered the best way to say it before typing, I HAVE A GIRL HERE ABOUT TO HAVE YOUR BABY. I CAN EXPLAIN. GET OUT HERE. NOW.
Sally slipped the phone back into her pocket and ignored the many buzzes of incoming messages, satisfied that she had provided proper incentive.
