From: Edwin Gay <gaye@delphi.com>

   Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

   Subject: TG: "Mommas" (Magic Trans Preg)

   Date: Sat, 7 Jan 95 22:09:29 -0500



   The Real Stepford Wives: Only Women Have Babies by Sarah Barndt



   I was once a normal, heterosexual male.  That is, I was until I happened

   upon the town of Stepford.  I was spending a few weeks there, installing
some

   equipment at Stepford Pharmeceutical Labs, for the company I worked for.
I had

   recently broken up with my fiancee and was glad to be back on the road
as a

   working engineer.  I enjoyed it, but Stepford was odd.  All of the men
wanted to

   ask me about my sex life when I visited "the club." All of the women
were

   beautiful and intelligent, yet they were very old-fashioned in the way
they

   behaved.  They were totally subservient and attentive to their men. 
They alone

   cooked, cleaned, took care of the kids, etc.  They also looked and
dressed like

   models, and apparently, were sensational lovers.  All of the men
belonged to

   the MEN'S CLUB, and all of the women belonged to the LADY'S CULTURAL
SOCIETY,

   a building on the far side of the MEN'S CLUB grounds.  What was odd?  It
was too

   perfect.  My curiosity was piqued.  I decided to investigate the
building of the

   MEN'S CLUB.  THAT was first my mistake.



   I slipped in after hours, using my pass key.  Since the machines I was

   installing were automated, I had access to the central computer network.
I

   found lots of information.  All of it was astounding, but chilled me to
the

   bone.  It turned out that all of the women in Stepford had once been
men! The

   real men of Stepford captured young men with the right physical

   characteristics and sexual experience, then transformed them somehow
into

   females.  As former males, they had an intimate knowledge of what
pleased a man

   and how to satisfy his fantasies and desires.  The sudden shock of
losing of

   their penises caused them to become submissive and docile.  You ended up
with

   every man's fantasy; a lady in the parlor, a chef in the kitchen, and a
whore

   in the bedroom.  I fell back in my chair, too stunned to move at this
shocking

   revelation, when a cloth covered my mouth and nose.  Chlorophorm!  I
struggled

   only briefly before losing consciousness.  When I awoke, I was strapped
to a

   lab table - naked.  I felt OK, though there was a bandage on my abdomen.
I

   turned at the sound of the door opening.  A doctor and two nurses came
in.  My

   voice was cracking as I told them they couldn't turn me into a woman. 
The

   doctor only smiled and said that he already had.



   I thought he was bluffing, but as he explained the process I knew he
wasn't

   lying.  The bandage was from where they had implanted a female zygote
into my

   abdominal cavity.  It would attach to my seminal vescicle, the part of a
male

   analogous to a uterus.  There it would alter my RNA to that of the woman
who

   provided the egg.  Over a short period of time, it would turn my male
sex

   organs into a uterus, ovaries and Fallopian tubes, while my new RNA
would

   alter every cell in my body until I had become - a female, a PREGNANT
female.

   I didn't feel right and realized it was already too late for me to
escape this

   fate.  I asked how long I had left.  He said I was already past the
first stage.

   To illustrate, he tugged on my chest hair.  It came out easily.  They
wheeled a

   mirror over.  I could see now that I was slimmer and less muscular than
before,

   with almost no body hair and I had never seen my dick so pink, or limp,

   before.  Suddenly I screamed.  My guts were in agony!  It felt as if an
invisible

   hand was squeezing me from the inside.  As I shrieked I could hear my
voice

   getting higher.  I writhed and moaned for several minutes.  Mercifully
it passed

   as quickly as it came.  I looked in the mirror and began to cry.  My
dick was

   gone, replaced by a - a cunt.  I had even grown tits!  On my once flat
chest

   were two small cones of flesh.  I was still sobbing as they put my feet
in

   stirrups and gave me my first vaginal exam.  I wanted to die as I felt
my

   clitoris respond to his probe by making my nipples hard.  My new vagina
made me

   feel vulnerable, and I could see I now had a feminine triangle sprouting

   between softer, fleshier thighs.  While the doctor was probing my new
plumbing

   the nurse tried to comfort me.  "Relax, sweety," she whispered.  "You'll
get

   used to it.  We all did." I thanked her in my new alto voice.  They
helped me

   up.  I felt so - different.  It wasn't just my dick being gone, either.
In spite

   of the fact that I had lost over 50 pounds, I felt plumper, and somewhat

   bottom-heavy.  Yet, I was thinner, less muscular, and shorter than ever.
I must

   have lost 6 inches in height, and my feet were almost tiny.  I clenched
my

   arms.  My strength was gone.  I now had the scrawny biceps and shoulders
of a

   woman.  The face was mine, but different.  A woman's face; softer,
rounder with

   added fullness in the cheeks and lips.  My hair was longer.  I was
pretty.  Just

   as I was regaining some composure the doctor said, "Take MISS Evans to
the

   Ladies Club and get her a room.  Give her the usual training.  Her
wedding is in

   a month." As I heard those words, I began to vomit.  They cleaned me up,
then

   gave me a robe, pink, to wear as we walked to the clubhouse.  I sobbed

   uncontrollably.  They reminded me that I was not only female now, but
pregnant.

   "When you're knocked-up, there's nothing like having a man take care of
you,"

   they said knowingly.  "You may not think so now, but in a few months,
when

   you're big as a house, you'll appreciate the attention.  Besides, the
first one

   is always the hardest." First?  As in "first of several', or - or
m-many. Oh,

   dear.  I was getting queazy again.  They assured me that I would
actually be

   happy about all this someday - while I was gagging.  I chuckled
sardonicly.

   Isn't that what they always say after something terrible has happened.
But I

   had to be logical.  My dick was gone - forever.  I had to face that.  I
was a

   woman, at least physically, and in 9 months I was going to be somebody's

   mother.  All of that was unchangable.  The best thing I could do for my
own sake

   was to not fight it anymore.  I decided to give in; to shave my legs and
put on

   a dress.  I didn't have to like it, but I was determined to survive
this. They

   could make me look like a woman, but they could never make me think like
a

   woman.  Or so I thought.



   At the club, I was taken to the beauty salon.  There, I was given a
perm,

   manicure, pedicure, facial and make-up instruction.  They had me shave
my own

   legs and underarms - and bikini line.  I watched all this detached from
myself,

   as if I were an observer as, little by little, I was turned into an
attractive

   young woman, Laura, my new name.  Lastly, they gave me some diamond
earrings,

   pierced, a gift from Mark Jennings, my fiancee.  I yelped as the studs
entered

   my lobes, though it really didn't hurt.  Next, it was time to dress me.



   The room looked like a "Victoria's Secret' catalogue.  They selected a
white

   lace bikini panty for me.  It felt so odd as it slid up my now smooth
legs and

   over my - empty - crotch.  The tape went around my sunken chest before I
knew

   what was happening.  32AA.  My hands were trembling as I slid the bra up
my

   arms.  I was putting this on because I needed one.  And would need one
for the

   rest of my life.  sss I sucked in a breath as my girlish boobs settled
into the

   cups and the clasp was fastened.  uuu It felt like a harness.  I didn't
like it

   at all.  I heard the nurses gossipping.  "Remember when we were that
size?" one

   said, enviously.  "Yes, I do.  Let her enjoy it while she can.  By the
time she's

   through nursing her first kid, she'll be as big as the rest of us." I
looked

   at them carefully.  Oh, my!  I hadn't really noticed before, I was so
worried

   about my mutation, but they were quite full-figured!  I looked down at
my

   chest.  I could feel the slight sensation of weight that was still so

   unfamiliar.  I tried to imagine what they would look like in a few
months when

   I was - like them, a buxom housewife.  I couldn't.



   I spent the next weeks learning how to be a lady.  Classes were run by

   various women of the town.  As I looked at these thoroughly feminine
creatures,

   all of them mothers, some several times, I couldn't believe that they
had once

   been men - like me.  Or rather, like I used to be.  Each night as I put
on my

   lacy, babydoll nighty I saw that I had become more like them.  I hardly
knew

   myself anymore, I was becoming so emotional.  I could laugh or cry at
the drop

   of a hat.  I wore high heels all the time.  My ankles hurt.  I spent
hours with

   books on my head, learning how to walk gracefully.  They taught me how
to cook,

   knit and sew.  I studied fashion magazines like they were text books. 
The

   "hygeine' class was disgusting, but I did find it useful.  I had an
exercise

   class every day where we would do the "bust cheer'; "we must!  we must!
we must

   increase our bust!' You know the one.  It must work.  My bumps were like

   misquito bites compared to the melons on these women.  In my snug
leotard the

   full extent of my transformation was apparent; slim waist, rounded butt
and

   totally smooth crotch, but I was getting morning sickness.  Some of the
women

   in the class were pregnant, too, but I was the only "newgirl'.  I
watched

   their swollen bellies with fascination as we did our pelvic thrusts. 
"Do it,

   ladies," the instructer said.  "It will keep you tight as a virgin." The
other

   women laughed at that.  I felt ill, as all the implications of that
statement

   sunk in.  The hardest part for me was seeing nude women.  I didn't, or
couldn't,

   get aroused and I was finding it easier and easier to undress in front
them.

   Before I knew it, I just didn't care anymore.  Now, I started to compare
their

   figures to mine.  Which, by the way, was improving daily.



   My new hormones were causing me to "fill out'.  My breasts grew fuller
and

   rounder, as did my hips and buttocks.  My legs added flesh and were
becoming

   quite shapely.  My skin felt like a baby's behind.  I ran my slender
hands over

   my widening hips, then down my still flat stomach.  The fine growth on
my pussy

   had thickened.  In two weeks, I was up to a 34A bra.  My breasts
steadily

   increasing weight was making me more aware of them.  I could now feel
them

   whenever I moved.  It was a bit disquieting.  In spite of my small size,
I was

   feeling busty, though the most interesting change was the way my nipples
were

   growing.  The little pink nipples of two weeks ago were now doubled in
size and

   scarlett red.  I placed the palms of my hands on them and made slow
circles.

   oooo That felt nice.  I could feel my pussy tingling.  I put one hand
between my

   legs.  oooo OOOO UUUUUU.  I had my first orgasm - as a woman.



   I'll never forget my first "Wednesday Afternoon Tea.' It is a ritual at
the

   Ladies Club.  Each Wednesday, from 1pm to 4pm, the doors are locked and
the

   curtains are drawn.  Tables of food and drink are arranged throughout
the

   building.  All of the ladies of Stepford gather to mingle and gossip -
stark

   naked except for make-up and high heels.  I wandered around the rooms
myself,

   naked as well, surprised, and definitely aroused, by all the sex that
was

   going on.  My slim figure made me easy to identify as the "newgirl', as
the

   other women's figures ranged from voluptuous to matronly.  Pregnant
women were

   also involved and they gathered around me, telling me how "great it will
be',

   "fullfilling' or my favorite, "It's true.  We really are happiest this
way.'

   This was from a 32 year old mother of 4, who used to play quarterback
for

   Purdue, (her husband loved football and wanted a wife who could share
his

   enthusiasm) and now appearred to be in her 4th month.  She was so round
and RIPE - it was getting me hot.  She, Kate, noticed and took me aside.  I
had

   never kissed a pregnant woman before, and certainly not AS a woman.  Our
bare

   breasts rubbing together was new and exciting.  I could feel myself
getting wet

   as I rubbed her big belly and fondled her bloated tits.  "oops.  I'm
leaking,"

   she said as a drop of milk dribbled from her breast.  " darn.  I'm
starting

   sooner with each kid." she said to herself.  I took her swollen teat
into my

   mouth.  "Careful, Laura.  I love what you're doing, but you're pregnant,
too.

   This could start YOUR milk if you take too much." I paused momentarily,
but

   continued to suckle.  It tasted sooo good.



   By the end of the month I had a woman's figure; 36B-24-38.  In a few
days I

   would become Mrs.  Mark Jennings.  I found myself staring at my
engagement ring

   for hours.  I was really a woman and soon I would be a wife.  The idea
of

   spreading my legs for a man still made my skin crawl, but everyone said
it was

   wonderful.  Besides, I wasn't equipped to fuck anymore.  All I could do
was lay

   back and be fucked.  They were giving me a bridal shower during
"afternoon

   tea'.  Kate was their, of course, as we had become close this past
month. I

   adored sucking her fat, leaking tits, even though it seemed to be
putting a

   few pounds on me.  When I was shopping the other day, I found I had gone
up a

   dress size, from a 6 to an 8.  Besides the sex, we really got along
well, so I

   asked her to be matron-of-honor.  In fact, my future husband had bought
the

   house next to her's.  We were going to be neighbors!  It was somewhat

   Felliniesque, 30 or so naked women, drinking too much wine, and making
all of

   the usual pre-honeymoon jokes.  I had thought only men did that.  I was
learning

   a lot.



   The wedding was a simple affair on the club grounds.  I had met Mark
weeks

   before, when I was still a man.  I hadn't noticed how good looking he
was then.  Now, I was seeing him as my life-mate, the father of my child

   (children?) and the man who was going to de-flower me.  I was frightened
and

   excited about what was to come.  That night, for the first time, I felt
the

   weight of a man upon me.  I was so scared!  I parted my legs, so he
could mount

   me.  His hard, thick cock was pressed against my wet, willing cunt.  He
moved

   his hips forward.  SSSSSSSS My hymen tore!  I was no longer a virgin. 
UUU He was

   FILLING me.  Deeper and deeper it slid in.  AAAAA He was splitting me
like a

   melon!  I was swooning; drifting in and out of reality as my brain was
flooded

   by new - by new - ooooo Wonderful sensations!  I could feel his cock
taming.

   Each thrust fucking the last of my maleness, my independance, away.  I
was

   turning into a helpless, docile female and loving every minute of it. 
"OOO I

   love it.  uuuu I love you.  SSSS I want to be your wife," I breathed out
as he

   was pumping into me.  I wrapped my legs around him, kissed his neck and
told

   how good he felt.  He liked that.  I knew he would.  We erupted
together. OOO The

   girls were right.  It was so much BETTER now.  That night, I must have
caught a

   bad case of hot pants because after a few days of this - well - I
couldn't

   stop spreading my legs!



   My life changed so much.  I would arise early so I could shower and
pamper

   myself.  I'd always wear a dress and high heels (and my personal touch,
June

   Cleaver pearls) no matter what I was planning that day.  I'ld cook my
man a

   hearty breakfast then do the houswork.  I actually enjoyed cooking and

   cleaning!  The simplicity of this life was a welcome change for me after
the

   "cut throat' corporate life.  I would shop or go out to lunch with Kate,
or one

   of the other women.  We would gossip like hens at the hair dressers.  As
the

   months passed I progressed through a series of hair styles as my locks
grew

   longer and longer.  Mark wanted me to let my hair grow out completely. I
was

   looking forward to becoming a modern Lady Godiva for him.  I joined a
community

   service club.  I really worked at being a good wife and a credit to my
man.

   Nothing made me prouder than to be called MRS.  Jennings.  We would go
to dinner

   at the club and dance later.  I had some trouble at first because I
wouldn't

   follow his lead, but quickly adapted.  I enjoyed walking down the street
in a

   smart outfit and feeling men's eyes roving all over me, especially my
legs,

   which were very shapely.  Like the other women of Stepford, I would wear
a hat

   and gloves.  Regular visits to my gynecologist were, of course,
necessary.  I

   could tell I was becoming more of a female because the stirrups no
longer

   bothered me, but the scale did.  Each week I winced as the nurse
recorded my

   expanding figure.  I went to "the club' daily, for my exercise classes,
as well

   as LaMaze and LeLeche Society meetings.  Naturally, I NEVER missed
"afternoon

   tea', but I would always meet Mark at the door, when he came home from
the

   office, in sexy lingerie, and we would make love all over the house. 
Mark

   would bring flowers or candy.  Once he brought me a bracelet.  I had
never been

   interested in flowers or other stuff like that, but now it made me feel
so so special when he brought me presents.  I ALWAYS wept happily.  In only
a few

   weeks, his kind attentions, and his cock, had turned me into a contented

   housewife.  Then, the "titty fairy' came.



   I had been feeling some tightness around my waist lately.  In fact, I

   occassionaly had to undo a button after eating.  I would examine my
figure

   after my morning shower.  My waist was definitely thickening.  I found I
tired

   easily, so I napped more.  Then one morning I awoke to find my body
changed.  My

   breasts had grown considerably.  I found out later, a whole cup size to
38C.  My

   nipples had turned brown and small bumps ringed my areolae.  I dark line
ran

   from my pubis to my navel, and when I turned sideways, a noticable bulge
was

   visible.  I hefted my heavier (and slightly sagging) boobs.  I ran my
slim hands

   over my new roundness.  I LOOKED pregnant!  I had a belly!  I
immediately got

   into maternity clothes, though they hid my new bulges.  I was so proud.
That

   afternoon, Kate and I were sunning by the pool.  I had decided to wear a
two

   piece suit to show off my new belly.  She rubbed my roundness then
asked, "So

   tell me.  How do you like having big tits." I looked down.  My boobs had
spilled

   out of the cups!  We both giggled.



   My pregnancy progressed smoothly and I began to fill out my maternity

   dresses.  My belly pushed out farther and farther as did my buttocks and
hips.

   I got a few stretch marks but I didn't care.  They were badges of honor
to me;

   a symbol of my fruitfulness, and impending motherhood, and I loved the
way

   Mark would rub soothing lotions on my belly.When I first felt the baby
kick, I

   cried for joy.  Kate and I continued our sex play, even though both of
our

   bellies were getting so big that some positions were now uncomfortable.
My

   suckling continued as well.  It seemed to noursih me, ripening my figure
into a

   true female form.  Mark loved my now large butt and pendulous breasts.
He

   called me "his little cow'.  I liked that.  However, as Kate had warned,
nursing

   effected me.  I awoke on night because my boobs were throbbing.  I
staggered to

   the bathroom.  As the light came on I gasped.  My 40D breasts had grown
some

   more.  They looked - fat, and bloated.  And ....  a wet strain was
radiating from

   each engorged nipple.  I pulled down the bodice of my nighty.  Oh!  I
was only in

   my 6th month, but I was already lactating!  Hands shaking, I removed my
nighty

   and applied the breast pump.  SSSSS It hurt as my milk began to flow,
but soon,

   it felt kind of nice.  In fact, I got wet.  Just as I was finishing, I
noticed

   Mark's reflection in the mirror.  "Well," he said appreciatively as his
hands

   hefted my boobs, making them and most of my upper body jiggle, "You're
really

   my little cow, now.  Come to bed, Elsie.  You need to be serviced." I
followed

   willingly.  With my hands bracing my back, I waddled back to bed.  He
was right.

   I was a cow; a plump, contented cow.  And he was my bull.  My fattened
bosom

   swayed gently as I got on my hands and knees and placed a pillow under
my

   belly.  I sighed lustily as his hard prick slid into me.  OOO I wanted
it so

   bad.  His hands roamed all over my ripe curves as he fucked me, my ass
and

   thighs jiggling as my boobs slapped together.  "You like being knocked
up,

   don't you," he grunted between thrusts.  I panted that all I wanted
anymore was

   to be his wife and have his kids.  "That's good.  Because I intend to
keep you

   this way for a while." My cunt gripped him like a fist as I orgasmed and
two

   wet stains marked the sheets under my tits.



   Mark pampered me even more during my last trimester.  As the ladies

   predicted, I was now as big as a house and I did appreciate his sweet

   attention.  I often cradled my belly as I waddled around the house.  My
42DD

   nursing bra gave welcome support to my sore boobs.  I had to drain
myself 2 or

   3 times a day.  Fortunately, I had Mark and Kate to assist.  At exercise
class,

   I had to do a more limited work out.  In my leotard it was obvious that
the

   slim bride of 8 months ago had become a pear-shaped, bosomy matron,
though I

   was happy that my hair was finally long enough to do something
interesting

   with.  Kate was in the class, too.  She had delivered almost 3 months
ago and

   nearly had her figure back already.  I hoped I would be as lucky.  Our
love

   making was still nice, though I was too big to do much more than lay
back and

   let her lick my pussy or suck my tits.



   I hadn't slept well in several days, my belly was just too large for me
to

   find a comfortable position.  I was staring at the ceiling when I felt -
it.  It

   was just a slight twinge that seemed to come from inside me.  Twenty
minutes

   later, I felt it again, then 20 minutes after that!  It was happening! I
was

   going into labor!  A few hours later I was in the delivery room, my feet
in

   stirrups, my fat breasts splayed out and pressing against my fleshy
upper arm.

   My hair was soaked in sweat, my face grimaced in pain.  It felt as if an

   invisible hand was squeezing me from the inside.  AAAAAAA I bore down. I
could

   feel my - baby being pushed out!  It wouldn't be too much longer.  The

   contraction passed and I rested up for the next one.  Mark was there,
holding

   my hand.  I loved him so much.  In Stepford, all first deliveries were
by

   natural method, no drugs.  I could understand why now.  Labor was a fire
that

   was burning away my old memories and refining me into a pure WOMAN!  One
last

   push UUU UUUUUUUU She was out!  I had a daughter!  Tears of joy mixed
with the

   sweat as she was bathed, swaddled then given to me to hold.  I looked
adoringly

   at my husband.  "Do you like her?" I asked plaintively.  "Of course," He

   replied.  "I love her nearly as much as I love her mother." I felt -
complete.



   The first time Dierdre took my breast I was so happy and excited!  I was

   nourishing my baby from my own body.  Since I was nursing, I had to do
all the

   feedings, of course.  It was tiring, but I had never been happier.  In a
few

   weeks, I was back at my exercise class trying to get my belly down to a
more

   normal size.  Hours on the lifecycle and hundreds of sit ups were
starting to

   get positive results, but pregnancy changes a woman.  I would never be
slim and

   girlish again, and I didn't mind at all.



   Tonight is our first wedding anniversary and the second time I have left

   Deirdre alone.  Mark has been teasing about how many times I have called
Kate

   already.  I can't help it.  I'm a mother.  "You look great, honey,"Mark

   complimented.  "you look like you've lost all the baby weight." I felt
so

   proud.  I had lost all but 6 pounds, and frankly, it felt like all of
those

   last 6 were in my tits, but I was still nursing.  My stomach was firm
again,

   though it had a slight roundness now that I would keep for the rest of
my

   life, and my waist was a bit thicker than before.  But I was a shapely
size 10

   and I was getting "those looks' from men again.  I liked that.  We were
having a

   night of dinner and dancing in the "CITY ROOM" at the men's club.  It
was the

   only room in the place where women were allowed.  I saw men, men who
looked a

   lot like I used to look only one year ago, going past the oaken doors
into the

   "members only' rooms.  Occassionally I was tired of cooking and cleaning
and

   taking care of the baby, and I envied them their freedom, but then I
would

   think about how it felt when Deirdre suckled, and I would forget my envy
and

   look forward to having another baby.  Mark and I were "trying', as
married

   people say.  Tonight as I was in the ladies room, changing my tampon,
(yes, I

   menstruated now) I became curious as to what went on behind those doors,
and

   thought about sneeking a peek.  As I looked past my 44DD milk swollen,
bosom,

   at my hands inserting a tampon, I giggled and thought to myself "No way!
I'm

   not going through that again!"



   End: Part 1 ?  (like it?)