This is All Your Fault

 

My body trembled violently, muscles aching with every agonizing push. I gasped for air, overwhelmed by the pain. "Evan, this is all your fault!" I screamed, shooting him a look of pure fury. He stood beside me, his face pale and sweating, but nowhere near what I was going through.

"You're doing great, just keep going!" he urged, trying to sound calm though his voice was strained. He squeezed my hand as if that was supposed to help.

"You wait until this is over," I hissed between contractions. "Next time, you're getting pregnant!"

The nurse stifled a laugh, and the doctor’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. After all, we were in a world where gender no longer strictly defined biology, thanks to Venus Biotech. Men giving birth wasn’t unheard of anymore, not with temporary sex changes becoming more common. I was sure they had heard it all before.

But here I was, not really a man anymore—at least not physically. And not by accident either. This whole journey began almost a year ago when I decided to experience life as a woman, thanks to Venus Biotech’s cutting-edge program. "Live as a woman for six months!" the ad had promised. As a curious guy, I couldn’t resist the idea of crossing that boundary. What was it like on the other side? How different would it feel?

When I first woke up after the procedure, my body felt alien to me. I stumbled to the bathroom mirror, hands shaking as I peeled back the hospital gown. There they were—breasts, soft and heavy on my chest. My waist had narrowed, my hips flared out. I looked down to see nothing between my legs but smooth skin and a new anatomy. I poked at it, still disbelieving.

It was surreal. Walking around in this new body was like wearing someone else’s skin. But over the next few weeks, I gradually grew used to it. Clothes felt different against my skin—tighter, more form-fitting. The weight of my chest shifted how I walked, how I sat. At first, I felt self-conscious about my curves, but as time passed, I started to appreciate them. The stares I got from people on the street didn’t feel threatening; instead, they made me feel desirable.

One day, I caught my reflection in a store window, dressed in a flowy dress with my hair styled, and realized something: I actually liked being a woman. The femininity I was exploring wasn’t just some experiment—it was becoming a part of me.

Of course, my curiosity didn’t stop there. I wanted to experience everything, including what it felt like to have sex as a woman. That’s when I reached out to Evan, my best friend. We had always had a flirty rapport, and now that I was in this new body, I felt bold enough to ask him for help.

He was more than happy to oblige.

Our first time together was mind-blowing. Sex as a woman was nothing like what I had experienced before. Every touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through me, and Evan, to his credit, knew exactly how to make me moan. The intimacy, the way my body responded—it was addicting. We became regular lovers after that, and I found myself enjoying womanhood more than I ever thought possible.

But the surprise came three months later when I missed my period. I’d forgotten that with this new body came new responsibilities, like birth control. After days of nausea and a growing pit of anxiety, a visit to the doctor confirmed what I dreaded: I was pregnant.

I was in shock. This wasn’t part of the plan. I had signed up to experience life as a woman, not live it in full, especially not the part about having babies!

For days, I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. My once-flat stomach began to swell, and I found myself constantly touching it, amazed that there was something growing inside me. It didn’t feel real—until it did. As the months passed, my body changed in ways I hadn’t anticipated. My breasts grew fuller, my belly rounded. My hips spread wider to accommodate the life growing inside me.

At first, the changes made me uncomfortable. The weight of my baby bump made it harder to walk, to sit, to sleep. My balance was off, and my back ached constantly. I felt like a stranger in my own body again, but this time, there was no going back. I had to adapt, and so I did.

But something unexpected happened: I began to feel connected to my body in a deeper way. I’d always been somewhat detached from it, even before the transformation. But now, with each kick I felt inside me, each time I caught sight of my swollen belly in the mirror, I started to see this body not as temporary but as mine. Pregnancy forced me to slow down, to listen to my body, to care for it in ways I hadn’t before.

When I caressed my belly, feeling the baby move, a sense of peace would wash over me. I was no longer just a guy pretending to be a woman—I was a mother-to-be, and that brought a sense of purpose I hadn’t expected.

Evan had been by my side through it all, though I could tell he was struggling to process it too. "You’re sure you want to go through with this?" he asked once, a few months in, as I stood in front of the mirror, marveling at how much bigger I had gotten.

I shrugged. "I don’t really have a choice, do I?"

But deep down, I knew I was embracing this more than I let on. The changes in my body, the life growing inside me—it all made me feel more grounded in my identity as a woman. I hadn’t planned on staying in this body, but now, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to go back.

And now, here I was, in a hospital bed, panting and pushing with every ounce of strength I had. I could feel the baby moving lower, the pressure building. And then, with one final push, I felt a release. The sound of my newborn's cries filled the room, and the nurse gently placed a tiny, squirming bundle into my arms.

It was a girl.

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked down at her, so small and fragile. In that moment, all the pain, all the fear disappeared. She was perfect. My daughter. I had carried her, brought her into this world.

Evan leaned over, his face filled with wonder as he stared at her. "She’s beautiful," he whispered.

I nodded, unable to speak as emotions overwhelmed me. I had never imagined this—becoming a mother. But here I was, holding a tiny life in my arms, and it felt... right. I wasn’t just a guy playing at being a woman anymore. I was her mother, and I loved her with all my heart.

Evan looked at me, his voice soft. "What now?"

I smiled, feeling at peace for the first time in months. "Now, we figure out how to be a family."