I'm Ready

 

Practice Sessions

One Broken Rule

Magically Made Mama

 

I’m six months pregnant now. And yes, I know what you’re thinking.

Here’s the thing: six months ago, I wasn’t even a woman. My name was Ethan. I was 22, living in my mom’s basement with no job, no direction, and a PlayStation addiction. That all changed the day my mom offered me $5,000 to play a part—her best friend’s son, Josh, needed a date to an engagement party to save face after a breakup.

“Just pretend to be his girlfriend for a few hours,” she said, waving around this dusty old book like it was a cookbook and not, you know, a spellbook. “You’ll wear a nice dress, smile, and we’ll get that radiator in your car fixed.”

“I’m not exactly girlfriend material,” I told her, arms folded.

“Well,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “not yet.”

She opened the book, read a string of words in some ancient-sounding language, and that’s when my body caught fire.

It wasn’t literal flames, but it might as well have been. My skin tingled, muscles spasmed, and I fell to my knees, panting. My bones cracked and shifted. I could feel my waist pulling in, hips flaring out. My chest ached—then swelled, my hands trembling as I watched soft, full breasts rise on my chest. My voice cracked, then smoothed into a higher, softer pitch.

There was an overwhelming rush—a flooding of hormones, sensations, feelings. Everything felt more intense. My skin was more sensitive, my sense of smell sharper. My whole body was alien but... somehow exhilarating. I felt warm and soft and dizzy in ways I couldn’t explain.

When it was over, I was gasping on the floor, every inch of me changed. My mom helped me up and grinned.

“You’re beautiful,” she said. “I think I’ll call you Melanie.”

“Are you insane?” I squeaked.

She spent the next two hours teaching me how to walk in heels, pluck my eyebrows, and apply makeup. The dress she picked clung to curves I didn’t know how to own yet. But when I saw myself in the mirror, I did a double-take. Melanie was hot.

The party was surreal. Josh was tall, charming, with a smile that melted my freshly feminized brain. He played the doting boyfriend role perfectly—his hand on my back, whispering jokes into my ear, making me laugh in this soft, musical giggle that made me cringe and blush.

But it wasn’t just an act. There was chemistry—real, electric, and building all night. After we slow-danced and shared a few more drinks, it was like our bodies were magnetized. The touches lingered, the eye contact deepened, and when he offered to take me home, I nodded before I could think.

We barely made it through his apartment door before we were kissing. His hands were all over me, discovering this new body I barely knew myself. He ran his fingers through my hair, down my back, teasing the edge of the zipper on my dress. My breath was already short, my thoughts a haze of hormones and need.

When he finally undressed me, I felt like I was being unwrapped, discovered. His hands were warm and patient, like he was learning every curve, every breath. I was flushed, tingling, and burning with a need I hadn’t expected—deep, instinctual, and unstoppable.

When we lay together, he took his time. He kissed me everywhere, tracing patterns on my skin that made me arch into him. When he finally entered me, I gasped. It was deep and stretching, but my body welcomed him. I clung to him, the sensations almost overwhelming. Each thrust was slow, then faster, building rhythm like music I’d never heard before but instinctively knew. I felt full, wanted, feminine in a way that made my toes curl.

The climax hit like a tidal wave, stealing my breath and turning my world white. I screamed, not caring who heard. When it was over, I lay there panting, shaking, filled in every way.

And emotionally? I felt cracked open. Raw. Beautiful.

Afterward, we lay tangled in sheets, my head on his chest. I was dazed, soft, smiling despite myself.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, brushing my hair back.

I nodded. “Yeah... I think I am.”

I tried to sneak in wearing his hoodie, but Mom was already at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading her spellbook like it was the Sunday paper.

“Morning, sunshine,” she said without looking up.

“Hey,” I mumbled.

“Where’d you go last night?” she asked casually.

“Out. Just hung out with Josh a bit.”

“Oh? Hung out?” she teased.

I sighed. “Fine. We had sex. Like... a lot of it. The kind that makes your legs jelly and your soul feel like it got turned inside out.”

She cackled. “My baby girl got laid! Was it magical?”

“Don’t use that word.”

“I mean, technically, everything about you is magical now. Was he gentle?”

“Yes.”

“Was he thorough?”

“Oh my god, Mom.”

She waved her hand. “Relax, you’re a grown woman now. I just hope you’re not pregnant.”

I froze. “Why would you say that?”

She thumbed through the spellbook. Her face paled.

“Uh... Melanie, that was a fertility spell.”

“A what?”

“It increases libido and fertility. If used on a man, it transforms them into a woman with the same effects. But it only lasts a month if no conception occurs. If you got pregnant... the change becomes permanent.”

Three weeks later, that pink plus sign appeared. I stared at it in horror. My mom peeked over my shoulder and winced.

“Well,” she said. “Guess you’re Melanie for good.”

The bump came slow, but it came. First it was a soft swell. Then a noticeable roundness. Then one morning I woke up and couldn’t see my feet anymore. Now? I waddle. I drop things I can’t pick up. I wear stretchy clothes and Josh’s oversized flannel shirts.

Josh’s hand lives on my belly. He talks to our daughter like she’s already here.

“Hi baby girl. Daddy’s got snacks. Tell Mommy to stop eating all the pickles.”

“You got me pregnant,” I told him one day, pointing at my belly. “You did this to me.”

He shrugged. “And I’d do it again. You’re adorable when you waddle.”

I stared at him then, belly huge, skin glowing, nipples sore, and thought... yeah. He would. And part of me—more than I expected—loved that. The sex was good. It was more than that. It made me feel alive, desired, real. The idea of another kid someday? Weirdly enough, it didn’t sound like a punishment. It sounded... kind of like a prize. Like love made manifest.

We laugh constantly. When I started lactating, he panicked more than I did.

“Mel, your boobs are leaking.”

“I know, Josh! I’m becoming a dairy farm.”

My mom’s no help.

“Moo,” she texted once.

I called her and screamed.

She also got me a shirt that says, “Magically Made Mama.”

I wear it ironically. Sort of.

Josh and I made it official after the first ultrasound. Seeing that heartbeat flicker on the screen did something to us both.

He kissed my forehead and whispered, “This is real. You’re real.”

He proposed in BabyMart, kneeling with a pacifier and a ring.

“Only if you promise to never use magic again,” I joked.

“Deal,” he said.

Now, I’m waddling around, surviving on ginger ale and antacids. I have names picked out, nursery Pinterest boards, and a fiancé who treats me like I’m carrying royalty.

I didn’t choose this.

But somehow, this life chose me.

And honestly? I think it got it exactly right.

What She Always Wanted

Nine months ago, I was Matt — sarcastic, forgetful, too casual with everything except video games and late-night debates. And now, I'm Mara. My hands rest on the curve of my enormous belly, skin taut and warm beneath my fingers. I'm due any day. Every shift of the baby inside me is a surreal, wonderful reminder of how far I've come… and how I was never meant to stay the person I once was.

---

It had started with that thought — innocent, fleeting:

“What if I could give her what she always wanted?”

A daughter. My mother had always wanted one. It wasn’t a secret — just something unspoken that lived between her words when we passed the dress section while shopping, or when she dug out old photo albums and showed me pictures of her and her own mother.

I thought that wish might’ve been the saddest thing about her.

I never expected the universe to hear me. Or answer.

But it did.

I remember the mall — the hard light, the smell of cheap perfume. One moment I was Matt, rolling my eyes at overpriced cards, and the next…

Heat rolled through me like I’d been dropped in a boiling bath. My limbs went numb, but not from cold — from pressure. Everything tightened, then released. My chest ached, then swelled. I saw it happen — the way two soft mounds pushed outward beneath my shirt. My spine cracked and popped as my hips widened, my jeans pinching at the thighs. My voice caught, climbing an octave against my will.

I stumbled into the nearest restroom, locked myself in a stall, and stared at the woman in the mirror. She was gorgeous. Terrified. Familiar.

Me.

---

When I got home, the apartment had changed to match me. Dresses hung in the closet. There was perfume on the dresser I somehow remembered buying. And then…

The door opened.

Jason stepped inside. My boyfriend. My heart skipped at the sight of him — tall, lean, with that soft smile that always made me melt even when I was still figuring out who I was.

“Hey, babe,” he said, casual, like nothing had changed. And for him, it hadn’t.

My breath caught. “Hi,” I managed, blinking rapidly.

He leaned down and kissed me. Familiar. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. I stood there, stunned, and let it happen. But something warm bloomed in my chest — not fear, but… recognition.

I stared up at him, suddenly dizzy. “Jason…”

His hand cupped my face. “You’re shaking.”

I laughed nervously. “Rough day.”

He kissed me again. “Come here. Let me make it better.”

---

We didn’t plan to sleep together that night.

It just… happened. And when it did, I gave in completely.

He started by kissing my neck, gently, slowly, the way that made me shiver. His hands slipped under my shirt, brushing the underside of my new, sensitive breasts. I gasped at the touch — a high, soft sound that startled even me.

“Oh god,” I breathed, my back arching instinctively.

“You’re so sensitive tonight,” he murmured against my skin, lips dragging downward.

I couldn’t explain it — I didn’t want to. My body was on fire, every inch of me alive in a way I’d never experienced as a man. I wanted him — craved him. Not just emotionally. Physically. Desperately.

Clothes fell away. He kissed my thighs, worshipped every inch of my skin like it was sacred. And when he finally pushed inside me, I cried out.

It wasn’t pain. It was overwhelming. Fullness. Connection. Right.

Every motion sent sparks shooting through my body. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, hips rising to meet his with every thrust. My moans turned to whimpers, my hands fisting the sheets. I was drowning in sensation — waves of pleasure I’d never known as Matt.

“Jason,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Please don’t stop.”

He leaned down, kissing me as he moved. “Never,” he promised.

And then I felt it — the rush inside me, the deep pulse of warmth as he finished. I gasped, my whole body trembling.

It hit me like lightning: I’m going to get pregnant.

Somehow, I knew. I felt it. Felt his seed filling me, deep inside. My body seemed to welcome it, cradling the moment like a secret.

---

The next morning, I lay curled in his arms, wide-eyed, my fingers resting on my lower belly.

Something had changed.

“I think…” I said slowly, “I might be pregnant.”

Jason chuckled. “Seriously? Already?”

“I just… have a feeling.”

And I was right.

---

Two weeks later, the test turned positive. I stood in the bathroom, staring at the stick, hand over my mouth.

Jason looked at me, then the test. “You’re pregnant?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

A moment of silence.

Then he pulled me into a hug, lifting me slightly off the ground. “We’re going to be parents,” he said, his voice soft with wonder.

---

The months passed quickly — and yet each day changed me.

Morning sickness. Hormonal mood swings. Cravings. My body bloomed in ways that both scared and fascinated me. My belly grew round, full. My breasts swelled again, preparing for the baby. I cried during commercials. I laughed when I felt the first kick.

Jason was my rock through all of it.

He came to every appointment. Massaged my back when I couldn’t sleep. Talked to our baby at night, whispering sweet promises against my belly.

And my mom… when I told her, she was overwhelmed.

“A girl,” she said, holding my hand, tears in her eyes. “Mara… you’re giving me everything I ever dreamed of.”

I didn’t tell her the full truth. How I’d become her daughter only nine months ago. It didn’t matter now. She had her daughter. She had her granddaughter on the way.

And I had never felt more certain of anything.

---

Now, I lie in bed, belly huge, skin taut. Our daughter moves inside me, her little feet pressing against my ribs. Jason sleeps beside me, one hand on my bump, smiling even in his dreams.

I stroke my belly gently, whispering to her, “You were made from love. You made me who I am.”

Because I wasn’t always Mara. I wasn’t always a woman.

But I was always meant to become one — for her.

For my mom.

For myself.

And soon, I’ll give birth not just to a child…

…but to the life I was always meant to live.

It's Just Biology

No Going Back

Permanent Souvenir

Not What I Expected

Miracle Elixir

 Nine months ago, I was a guy. Just a regular dude named Jake, living my life, playing video games, and joking around with my best friend, Ryan. Now, here I am, stretched out on a sun lounger at a luxury resort, my swollen belly peeking out from a white bikini, a straw cowboy hat shielding my face from the afternoon sun. The pool sparkles in the background, the distant chatter of other vacationers blending with the soft sound of waves in the distance. And the wildest part? Ryan is still here—except now, he’s not my best friend. He’s my boyfriend.

It all started with his sister, Claire, and her obsession with alternative remedies. She had been raving about this fertility potion she had ordered online, insisting it was a “miracle elixir.” I had laughed it off, never expecting that a single sip of that glowing, amber liquid would change my life forever. I had mistaken it for some fancy herbal tea she left on the counter. The moment the liquid touched my tongue, a strange heat flooded my body. My skin prickled as if electricity was dancing beneath the surface, and then the changes started.

I collapsed onto the floor, groaning as my bones shifted, my muscles softened, and my body restructured itself. I felt my shoulders narrow, my waist pinch inward, my chest tingle before swelling outward. A deep, twisting sensation coiled in my lower abdomen as my manhood faded away, replaced by something new and foreign. I gasped, my voice higher, breathy, unmistakably feminine. I crawled to the mirror, shaking, staring in disbelief at the wide, doe-like eyes, the long golden hair, the full lips that belonged to someone entirely different. To me.

Ryan had been the first to find me, standing in the middle of the bathroom in Claire’s clothes, shaking and hyperventilating. At first, we thought it was temporary. Claire, horrified but fascinated, scrambled for answers, only to discover the fine print: the transformation was permanent if the person became pregnant within a month.

It was a lot to take in, and I struggled to adjust. I had to learn how to dress, how to walk differently, how to navigate emotions that felt sharper, rawer. I even had to choose a new name—Jake didn’t fit anymore. After days of searching, I settled on Jenna. It felt right. A fresh start, a new identity for the person I had become.

And then there was Ryan. He had been my best friend for years, but suddenly, there was a distance between us. He was awkward around me at first, unsure how to treat me. But as the days passed, that awkwardness turned into something else—something deeper. I could feel it in the way he looked at me, how his touches lingered a little longer than before.

Then came the night everything changed. The night where he comforted me a little too intimately. I was vulnerable, confused, and scared, and Ryan had been there, holding me, reassuring me that I wasn’t alone. His hands ran over my back, his words soft and soothing, and when he wiped a tear from my cheek, I felt something stir inside me. One moment we were talking, the next his lips were on mine, and I didn’t pull away. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was something I had never acknowledged before, but I wanted him. Needed him.

That night, his touch became more than just comfort—it became something more intense, something undeniable. His hands explored my new body with reverence, igniting feelings I never imagined I could have. I had been so lost in my transformation, in the uncertainty of what I had become, but Ryan made me feel safe, beautiful. Wanted. His lips traced along my jaw, down the curve of my neck, each kiss sending warmth through my body. His hands lingered, fingertips grazing new, sensitive places, coaxing shivers and gasps from me that I never thought I could feel. It was overwhelming, foreign, but also exhilarating. The softness of my new skin against his, the way he held me so protectively yet hungrily, it made me forget who I had been.

We moved together, slowly at first, testing boundaries neither of us had ever crossed before. Every thrust, every whispered word, made me sink deeper into this new reality. I wasn’t Jake anymore. I was Jenna. A woman. And as he brought me to pleasures I had never known, I accepted it completely. By the time the night was over, I wasn’t just transformed in body—I had become something else entirely. His.

It was the night our daughter was conceived. The night I sealed my fate.

And now, here we are—on holiday, in love, and expecting a baby together.

I absentmindedly rub my belly, feeling its tautness beneath my fingers. It still amazes me how much my body has changed. My once-flat stomach has grown into a full, round bump, my skin stretched tight over the new life inside me. My breasts are fuller, heavier, a constant reminder of the changes pregnancy has brought. Even my emotions are different—sometimes, I cry over the smallest things, and other times, I find myself laughing at how absurd this all is. Who would have thought that the guy who used to shotgun beers with Ryan would now be carrying his baby?

Ryan walks over with two chilled drinks, one for him and a virgin piña colada for me. He leans down, kissing my forehead. “How’s my gorgeous mama-to-be?”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t hide my smile. “Sweaty, swollen, and in desperate need of a foot massage.”

He grins, sitting beside me and pulling my feet into his lap. “I can handle that.”

I sigh, relaxing into the lounge chair as he kneads the tension from my aching feet. It’s crazy to think that just months ago, we were two bros, teasing each other, fighting over video games, and now… now I’m carrying his child. Hormones and emotions have changed me in more ways than one. I used to think of Ryan as my best friend, my brother in everything but blood. But over time, as my body changed, so did my feelings. I don’t know if it was the pregnancy, the new hormones, or something else entirely, but I fell for him. And when he looked at me—not as his old friend Jake, but as the woman I had become—I knew he had fallen for me, too.

The baby kicks, and I place Ryan’s hand over the spot. His eyes light up with wonder. “She’s gonna be a strong one,” he murmurs, pride in his voice.

I smile softly. “Yeah. She is.”

For all the insanity that led me here, I don’t regret it anymore. I may not have chosen this life, but looking at Ryan, feeling our daughter move inside me, I know that somehow, against all odds, this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

A Simple Mistake

Spellbound

 

No Regrets

Accepted It

A Temporary Favor

True Love

 

See You in a Year

Feel Like a Woman