...agreeing to be a surrogate for the Weber's. But I didn't want to focus on that at the moment. Right now, I was busy playing Grand Theft Auto
on my new Xbox, bought off the rack at full retail price just two months ago. I figured I would need some kind of distraction away from the life
I had made for myself. And besides, the game had really cool graphics.
I sat on my bed, leaned against the bed board with a pile of pillows against the hard wood and my new back. Across the room was the television
and the game console, its flashing lights being the only source of light within my dark room. I closed the blinds to shut out the brightness of the
summer day. The only sounds came from the screeching of tires, gunshots, and theme music from the TV, as well as the rapid clicking of my
fingernails on the game controller.
Mary Weber's -- which is to say, my own -- breasts rose and fell gently upon each breath I took, restrained as they were within a rather itchy
nursing bra. I was wearing a pair of navy-blue linen drawstring pants, which flared out at my new wider hips and hugged the curves of my larger,
rounder butt. The white cotton panties underneath that fit too well and reminded me of my sorely missed manhood. My swollen belly was beginning
o push out the fringes of the sleeveless maternity top that Mom had forced me to wear. It was incredible to believe that I still had three months to
go before... you know...
Speaking of whom, my attempted carjacking was interrupted by a rapping at my bedroom door.
"Michael, how are you doing? Can I come in?" My mother's voice came in muffled from the other side of the door.
Oh, great, she's back to check up on me again, I thought. Ever since the swap, my mom had taken a particular interest in the progress of the
pregnancy. It wasn't hard to guess why, of course, but the fact that she wouldn't leave me alone like before was bothersome.
"Fine. Let me get the door." I put down the controller and dangled my legs over the bed, missing that I used to be able to touch the floor,
and held my protruding belly carefully. Waddling over to the door and unlocking it, I saw my mother smile brightly back at me,
her hands clasped in front of her.
She looked into the dark room where I had been playing videogames. "Oh my, it sure is dark in there. It's your summer vacation, Michael,
you should enjoy it outside!" Seeing me shrug my shoulders, she continued, "Anyways, I got home early from work today.
There's a snack waiting for you in the kitchen. Why don't you come out and grab a bite? Then you can go for a walk and keep active."
Despite her helpful attitude, I answered, "No thanks, mom. I'm not hungry. Maybe later."
"Don't be cross with me, young man! You agreed to take care of the Webers' baby, and that means not being cooped up in your room all day long."
"I'm really not hungry." I then added sarcastically, "My feet are swollen, I feel bloated, and I have bigger tits than any other guy at school,
but aside from that I'm doing just fine!"
"Which is all the more reason to move around and get that blood flowing." Mom said, beckoning me out to the kitchen. I waddled slowly behind.
Mom sat on the sofa and turned on the local news, prattling away about her work colleagues and friends like she usually does to pass the time.
Freshly washed vegetables and a bowl of yogurt awaited me at the kitchen table. Terrific.
"When you asked for a new Xbox, I didn't want to go too expensive, but since it is your money I figured that you have the right to determine how
you spend it." I heard her say.
Ever since I learned I was acting as the Webers' surrogate -- that is, being paid to have their ch1ld for them -- the topic of money interested me a
great deal. As it would any kid who suddenly found themselves upon a great pile of money. "Where is that money right now, Mom?" I asked,
prodding at a carrot and pushing it around my plate with a fork.
"According to the agreement you signed with the Webers, they've given you installments to spend as you like, with the rest going into a bank account.
You meet whatever milestones are outlined at each point during the pregnancy, and you get that regular payment. At the end after you've given birth
to the baby and they take custody, you get the remainder."
"And how much is that, exactly?" I probed.
"I think the Webers have given you a great deal, Michael. Not only have they agreed to finance whatever medical expenses you need to pay for over
the 9 months, but they are giving you over and above that amount for your trouble. All told, you'll be receiving $100,000 by the end of this surrogacy."
"A hundred thousand dollars?" I nearly spit out my yogurt after hearing this news. Mom and Dad had been reluctant to talk about money since I swapped
into this mess, but hearing that amount made everything much more palatable.
"Of course," Added Mom, turning down the volume on the TV, "Your father and I are acting as temporary custodians of your money in a shared bank account.
That means that you can't access all of that money just yet, and you only pay taxes on it when you need to access it. We're working on setting up a small
trust that gives you the money when you get older. Just think of it, Michael: you won't need to work much when you go to college, thanks to this."
I suppose that creating a college fund is the smart thing to do. But I'd prefer that money right now!
"That reminds me." Said Mom, getting up to go to the office room. Coming out with a manilla folder, she took out a bunch of papers that I recognize
were about the surrogacy. She laid the milestones paper next to me at the table. "The Webers wanted you to get an ultrasound to determine if there were
any problems, as well as to determine the sex of the baby."
I still found it unnerving that there was another human life growing inside of me, like something out of the movie Alien. Apparently, Mom and Dad had
taken me to get ultrasounds late in the first trimester, though I hadn't swapped at that point. They had been pestering me to go again for the past month,
but I had refused to go. They set up an appointment anyway, so it seemed I was going again whether I wanted to or not.
"So we don't know if the baby is... is a...?"
"A boy or a girl, Michael? We would know if you'd stop complaining and go in for a checkup. It's really for the best, honey." Mom said. Does it need to
be emphasized how strange it was that everyone reacted to the idea of a boy swapping heads with a mature, pregnant woman as if nothing was wrong?
"Have they decided upon a name for the baby yet?" I asked.
"That depends on the baby's gender, honey." She replied matter-of-factly.
"Oh, right." I said lamely.
Mom continued watching TV while I tried to stomach the rest of this healthy garbage she had set me up with. That was until we both heard the doorbell ring!
Who could it be???
Where will this story go next?
