A Year Ago

 

I sit quietly on the edge of the bed, my fingers resting on my rounded belly, feeling the soft kicks of the baby inside. The morning light streams through the window, casting everything in a gentle glow. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, still getting used to these quiet moments of connection between me and the life growing within me. It feels peaceful, but it’s also surreal. Sometimes, I still can’t believe how much has changed.

“A year ago,” I whisper to myself, “I wasn’t even a woman.”

The thought echoes in my mind. One year ago, my entire life was different. I glance down at my hand, where my engagement ring glints softly in the light. It feels right, but it’s a reminder of just how crazy the last year has been.

It all started with him—my best friend, the man I never imagined I’d fall in love with. He had been working on a revolutionary device, something out of a science fiction novel. A machine that could completely alter someone’s gender and physical features. He needed a volunteer, someone he could trust. I remember the conversation we had, sitting in his cluttered workshop, surrounded by wires and blueprints.

“Are you sure about this?” he had asked me, a mixture of excitement and concern in his voice.

I shrugged back then, my mind far from the gravity of the situation. “Why not? It’ll be interesting to see if it works.”

We both laughed at how casual I was being, but looking back, it was a pivotal moment in my life. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that decision was about to turn my entire world upside down.

The transformation process was beyond strange. Lying there on that metallic table, I remember the low hum of the machine, the warm sensation flooding through my body, and then the changes started. My skin tingled as it softened, my muscles seemed to shrink, and I felt my body literally reshape itself. When I finally looked in the mirror after the process was complete, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

“That’s… me?” I had whispered, touching my face, my voice higher and softer than I was used to.

He stood behind me, his eyes filled with wonder and pride. “You look amazing,” he said softly, his voice almost reverent.

I couldn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I was staring at a stranger, yet there was something oddly familiar about the reflection. Slowly, I ran my hands over my new curves, trying to reconcile this new image with the person I’d always been. It wasn’t just the physical change that overwhelmed me—it was the emotions that followed.

At first, I wasn’t sure if I could do it, live like this, even temporarily. But something unexpected happened. As the days went by, I began to like this new version of myself. I felt comfortable in ways I hadn’t before, and soon, being a woman felt… right.

And then, there was him.

We had been best friends for years, partners in everything. But after the transformation, the way he looked at me changed. One night, I remember sitting with him in the living room, the air thick with tension neither of us acknowledged.

“You’ve been different lately,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I wasn’t sure what I meant, but I knew something had shifted.

He hesitated for a second, then nodded. “You’re different. And it’s… I don’t know. It’s made me realize some things.”

I swallowed, my heart racing. “Like what?”

He looked at me, his eyes filled with something I hadn’t seen before. “Like the fact that I’m in love with you.”

Those words hung in the air, heavy and charged. I remember my breath catching in my throat. “But… we’ve been friends forever. I never thought…”

“Neither did I,” he interrupted, his voice low and serious. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. And I don’t think it’s just because of the change. It’s you, the same you I’ve always known.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine softly at first, testing, and then with more urgency. That kiss… it was the moment everything became clear. What we had was so much more than just friendship.

We made love that night, and it felt like the culmination of something that had always been there, waiting for us to see it. Afterward, we lay together in silence, his fingers tracing the lines of my new body.

“What now?” I had asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, his eyes warm. “Whatever you want. I’m with you, no matter what.”

And he was. We became a couple after that night, and the decision to stay in this new form felt like the easiest choice I’d ever made. I wasn’t just comfortable as a woman—I wanted to be one. And soon after, the biggest surprise of all came. I was pregnant.

I remember the day I found out. I was sitting in the bathroom, staring at the test in disbelief. My hand shook as I held it up, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was carrying a child—*his* child.

“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself. “I’m really pregnant.”

When I told him, his face lit up with a joy I’d never seen before. He pulled me into his arms, kissing my forehead. “We’re going to be parents,” he murmured, his voice full of awe.

As the weeks went by, my body changed again, this time in ways that felt completely natural. My belly started to swell, my hips widened, and I found myself slipping into maternity clothes that hugged my new curves. Each change made me feel more at home in this body. If there had been any lingering doubts about my identity before, they vanished as my pregnancy progressed. My body, which had once felt foreign, was now creating life. It felt powerful. It felt right.

“Pregnancy suits you,” he’d say sometimes, his hand resting on my belly as we lay in bed together. “You’re glowing.”

I’d laugh, shaking my head. “It’s just the hormones.”

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t just that. This body, this life—being pregnant, being a woman—it all made sense now. The transformation had been more than just physical; it had reshaped who I was in ways I could have never imagined.

One evening, when I was about three months along, he proposed. We were sitting on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background, when he turned to me with that same intense look in his eyes.

“Marry me,” he said simply, his voice soft but steady.

I blinked, caught off guard. “What? Are you serious?”

He smiled, pulling out a small ring from his pocket. “More serious than I’ve ever been. You’re the love of my life. I want us to be a family.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I nodded before he could even finish. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

When I told my family the news—both about the pregnancy and the engagement—it was during a holiday gathering. I remember the looks of shock and joy on their faces, how my mother immediately burst into tears and hugged me tight.

“You’re going to be such a wonderful mother,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Now, sitting here on the bed, my hand tracing the curve of my belly, I feel the baby move again, stronger this time. Each kick is a reminder of the life we’ve created, the love that binds us all together. Pregnancy has not only changed my body—it’s made me whole. The woman I see in the mirror now isn’t a stranger anymore. She’s me.

“I never imagined this would be my life,” I say softly, resting my hand on my engagement ring. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

And I know he feels the same. We’ve both transformed, in ways we could have never predicted, and now, we’re about to start the next chapter—together, as a family.