About to Have a Baby

 I still can’t believe this is my life. Seven months pregnant, wearing a maternity dress, and about to walk into my high school reunion with my boyfriend—who used to be my best friend back when I was a man. It’s surreal, even now. Sometimes I wonder how I got here, but then I remember: it all started with a wish.

If someone had told me last year that I’d be here, pregnant, in love, and on the verge of facing people who knew me *before* all this, I would’ve laughed. Because back then, I wasn’t even a woman. And now? I’m about to have a baby.

It all started as a joke. I’d been dreading the reunion for weeks. The thought of walking into that room alone, still single, still the same awkward guy I’d been in high school—it just didn’t sit right. So, when I found that dusty old spell book at a thrift store, I thought, why not? I made a wish, something silly about wanting a perfect date for the reunion, someone stunning, who’d make me feel like I’d finally made it.

What I didn’t expect was for the wish to work. Or for it to turn *me* into that someone.

I’ll never forget the morning I woke up and everything was… different. It wasn’t just the subtle changes. No, it was instant and dramatic. My chest, my hips, my hair—everything had changed overnight. I was smaller in some places and fuller in others, my body now soft and curvy in ways I never could’ve imagined. I could barely recognize myself in the mirror. My face was still mine, sort of, but the angles were softer, my lips fuller, and my eyes… they had this different look, like they belonged to someone new.

And when I reached up to touch my chest, it wasn’t flat anymore. It was smooth and full. My hands moved over my body in a daze, tracing my new curves, my waist narrowing down to hips that flared out in a way that felt so foreign. My legs were longer, leaner, and everything about me felt delicate but strong. I remember staring at my reflection, overwhelmed by the impossible truth—*I was a woman.*

I was in total shock. How could this be happening? I felt everything shifting in me, inside and out. My body wasn’t just changed; it was alive in ways I’d never felt before. My senses were heightened, everything more sensitive. I wasn’t just seeing this new body—I was *feeling* it, every inch of it.

Before I could even process what had happened, Ryan showed up. My best friend, who’d known me for years as a guy, was at my door. I thought for sure he’d see through the changes, that he’d recognize me immediately. But when he looked at me, he didn’t see his old friend. He saw someone completely new.

“Hi, I’m Ryan,” he’d said with that charming smile of his, offering his hand like we were meeting for the first time. He didn’t have a clue who I really was.

What happened next, I didn’t expect. He asked me out. Right there. And instead of explaining everything, instead of telling him the truth, I said yes. Maybe I was too stunned to think clearly. Maybe I was curious. Or maybe it was something more—something inside this new body that wanted to explore what it meant to be desired this way.

That night, when we got back to my apartment, things escalated faster than I could’ve ever imagined. The way Ryan looked at me, the heat in his eyes—it was electric. And something in me, this new part of me that hadn’t existed before, *wanted* him. I craved his touch in a way I’d never felt as a man. The desire coursing through me was intense, overwhelming. I wasn’t just curious anymore—I was *hungry* for it.

As soon as we kissed, I knew there was no going back. His hands moved over my new body, exploring the curves I was still getting used to myself. My skin was on fire with every touch. I could feel his breath, his hands, and every moment sent sparks shooting through me. I felt so alive. His hands on my hips, his lips on my neck—it was all-consuming. The pleasure was unlike anything I’d ever known.

 All the confusion, the questions, everything melted away. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything. It wasn’t just about the physical changes—it was the way my body responded to him, the heat, the intensity of it all. I could feel every inch of him, every touch igniting something deep inside me. And God, it was good.

We didn’t even make it to the bedroom right away. It was wild, almost desperate, like we couldn’t get enough of each other. His hands roamed over my body, exploring curves I was still getting used to myself, and with every touch, I felt more alive than I ever had before. My skin was buzzing, my breath coming out in ragged gasps as he pressed me against the wall, his lips tracing a path down my neck. I’d never felt pleasure like that. Not as a man, not even close.

As we made love, everything about the experience was new and raw and intense. The way my body responded to him—it was like every nerve was awake for the first time. I was so attuned to every sensation. I could feel him deep inside me, filling me in ways I never thought possible. As I felt him inside me, moving in ways I’d never experienced, the pleasure was overwhelming. My body responded in ways I’d never imagined, and I found myself thinking—right in the middle of it all—that maybe this wasn’t so bad. In fact, I thought to myself, I wouldn’t mind staying like this. I couldn’t believe I was thinking it, but I meant it. After what I was feeling, the way my body came alive in his arms, I realized that being a woman wasn’t the curse I’d thought it was. It was intense, powerful, beautiful in a way I’d never understood before. And I didn’t want it to stop. The pressure, the heat, the pleasure—it all flooded me at once, and I found myself thinking, *I could get used to this.* 

By the time it was over, as we lay together tangled in the sheets, I wasn’t just at peace with being a woman—I was *loving* it. For the first time, I felt like maybe this wasn’t a curse at all. Maybe it was a gift. 

But the real shock came three weeks later. I’d been feeling off—tired, nauseous. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but then I missed my period. That’s when it hit me. My body wasn’t just changed—it was fully functional. And I was pregnant. The test confirmed it: I was carrying Ryan’s baby.

Finding out was a whirlwind of emotions. Panic. Excitement. Fear. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I barely had time to adjust to being a woman, and now I was going to be a *mother.* The idea of a baby growing inside me was strange at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized… I wanted this. It felt right in a way I couldn’t explain. The pregnancy, the baby—it all felt like part of my journey, part of who I was meant to be now.

And as the months passed, I started to feel more comfortable in my new skin. My belly grew, rounding out as the baby developed. At first, it was subtle, just a slight bump, but by the second trimester, there was no mistaking it. I’d stand in front of the mirror, running my hands over my belly, marveling at how big I was getting. It was beautiful, even if it took some getting used to. My hips had widened to accommodate the growing life inside me, and I’d switched from my regular clothes to soft, stretchy maternity dresses that hugged my new curves. They made me feel feminine, confident in a way I never imagined I could.

Every kick, every flutter reminded me of the life I was carrying. The bond I felt with my baby grew stronger with every day. And, strangely, so did my bond with Ryan. He didn’t know the truth, but in his eyes, I was the woman of his dreams, and that made me feel like I could truly be her.

The pregnancy brought its challenges, of course. The swollen feet, the backaches, the constant need to pee. But in some strange way, all those things only made me more at ease with being a woman. It felt… natural. Like I’d finally found my place in the world. I’d look at my reflection, my belly large and round, and I couldn’t help but smile. I was becoming someone new, and it didn’t scare me anymore. It made me feel powerful.

And the sex? It was even better. As my body changed, so did my connection with Ryan. My heightened senses during pregnancy made everything more intense, more intimate. I craved him even more than before. There were nights we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and every time we were together, I felt more at ease with who I was. The way he touched me, kissed me—it made me feel alive, more confident in my new identity. With every night of passion, I let go of my old self a little more, embracing who I’d become.

“You look amazing,” Ryan says, coming up behind me, resting his hands on my hips and pulling me out of my thoughts. His voice is soft and reassuring, just like it always is when I’m feeling unsure. I look at his reflection in the mirror, and his smile—warm and full of love—makes me feel a little more at peace with everything.

“Are you sure?” I ask, biting my lip as I adjust the flowy maternity dress that hugs my bump. “I feel like I’m just… too much right now.”

He shakes his head, turning me around gently to face him. He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, his hand settling on my round belly. “You’re not too much. You’re perfect. And we’re going to walk in there, and everyone’s going to be jealous of how amazing you look. Trust me.”

I laugh softly, though there’s still that knot of nerves in my stomach that isn’t entirely from the baby. High school feels like a lifetime ago, and with everything that’s happened since then, I can’t help but wonder what they’ll think of me now. Will anyone even recognize me? Would they even believe it’s me if I told them?

I take a deep breath, stealing one last glance at the door. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Ryan grins and squeezes my hand, grounding me. “Let’s go show them how good life turned out for you.”

The drive to the reunion is filled with small talk and the soft hum of music, but my mind keeps racing. I imagine walking into that room, seeing faces from the past who will have no idea who I used to be. And maybe that’s okay. I’m not that person anymore. I’m something new, something better.

As we pull into the parking lot, Ryan parks the car, and my heart skips a beat. The parking lot is already filling up with familiar faces, but none of them would recognize me now. My hand instinctively goes to my belly, tracing the curve of my bump. I can feel the baby move, just a tiny flutter, but it’s enough to calm me for a moment. It’s like my little one is reminding me that I’m not walking into this alone.

“Ready?” Ryan asks, turning to me with that reassuring smile.

I nod, even though I’m not entirely sure. But with Ryan by my side, and this new life inside me, I feel like I can face anything. We step out of the car, and he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. The gesture grounds me, keeps me from spiraling into anxiety about all the possible reactions I might get.

As we walk toward the entrance, I catch glimpses of people I used to know. Some of them look older, a little worn by time, while others look almost exactly the same. It’s strange, seeing them from this new perspective. They don’t know it, but I’ve lived two lives since we last saw each other. One as the guy they used to hang out with—and one as this pregnant woman walking beside Ryan.

Inside, the reunion venue is buzzing with excitement. People are hugging, laughing, catching up after years apart. I scan the room, wondering if anyone from our old group is here yet. Part of me hopes they won’t recognize me, while another part wonders if they’ll see through this new exterior.

“Hey, isn’t that—” Ryan’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I follow his gaze.

A group of our old friends are clustered near the bar, laughing and clinking their glasses together. They don’t notice us right away, but my heart beats a little faster. Ryan grins, pulling me closer as we make our way toward them. The knot in my stomach tightens, but I remind myself that I’m not the same person I used to be. And that’s okay.

“Ryan! No way!” One of them, Chris, spots him first and walks over with a broad smile. “Long time, man. How’ve you been?”

Ryan grins and goes in for a handshake that turns into a quick bro-hug. “Good, man. Really good. Got a lot to catch up on.” He glances at me, squeezing my hand. “This is my girlfriend, by the way.”

Chris’s eyes flicker to me, and for a split second, I wonder if he’ll recognize me. But then his expression turns to polite curiosity. “Nice to meet you,” he says with a warm smile, offering his hand. “I’m Chris.”

I smile back, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

As we stand there, talking, I feel more at ease. No one knows the truth, and maybe that’s for the best. I’m not that guy anymore—the one who was always awkward, unsure, hiding behind sarcasm to mask insecurities. Now, I’m someone else. Someone stronger, more confident. Someone who’s about to become a mother.

As the night goes on, I start to relax. Ryan never leaves my side, his hand always resting on my lower back or holding mine as we move from conversation to conversation. Every now and then, I catch a glance at my reflection in the mirrored walls or see people glancing at my baby bump. And instead of feeling self-conscious, I feel… proud. Proud of this journey, proud of who I’ve become.

At one point, I excuse myself to the bathroom. In the privacy of the small, dimly lit space, I take a moment to breathe. I turn sideways in front of the mirror, resting my hands on my round belly. It’s still surreal, seeing myself like this. Seven months along, my body swollen with life. I smile softly, tracing the outline of my bump through the stretchy fabric of my maternity dress. 

The dress is simple, but it hugs my curves in a way that makes me feel beautiful, even with the weight I’ve gained and the constant ache in my lower back. It’s strange, but the further along I get in this pregnancy, the more comfortable I feel in my skin. Every flutter, every kick from my baby reminds me that this body—this *woman’s* body—is strong, capable of incredible things.

I smooth down the dress and take one last look in the mirror. The woman staring back at me is still new, but she’s also me. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

When I return to Ryan, he’s in the middle of telling a story to the group, and they’re all laughing. He looks up when I approach, his eyes softening when they land on me. He reaches out and pulls me into his side, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“You good?” he murmurs, low enough for only me to hear.

I nod, leaning into him. “Yeah. I’m good.”

And I mean it. I’m more than good. I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be.