It is amazing the male willingness to ignore what is in front of one's face. Personally I thought myself above such macho blindness but I was wrong. I had gone to the drug store and claimed that I needed a pregnancy test for my girlfriend. I actually needed it for me, I brought three one cheap, one medium cheap and one high end. I lit a cigarette while waiting for the results. I hadn't smoked since I was Laura but that wasn't smoke, it was weed and that plus the tequila I had been drinking with Miguel at the time...well I couldn't remember exactly what happened.
After that fateful trip to Rio to renew Laura's papers, a group of her friends mistook me for the real Laura. I returned to the US as Laura and took the substance to turn me back into my male form. About a month after Rio I started to rush to the toilet to vomit, mostly in the morning but sometimes all day long. I felt like I had a stomach bug and I had no energy. I had stomach cramps but as I was thinking about going to the doc they passed and my male mind thought it had passed. Whatever it was. Then I started to feel bloated around my stomach, as if I had been skipping on my diet with nothing but junk food. I hadn't, so I had no idea but I had weird cravings like sour mash, which I had never tasted before and I was often eating for more than just myself.
One day I was trying to fit into my jeans but the seat of the pants wouldn't go past my ass. My sides started to flare out like Laura's, but I just thought I was sick. Or fat. I tried to button them up once I got them past my ass, but the line of fat created a bump that meant the jeans wouldn't button. I had to use a rubber band to give myself an extra two inches, but I still thought it was just excess weight. My ass had grown over the weeks since Rio making my ass look like some black booty. My underwear started to ride up the crack in my ass cheeks. My chest soon started to itch and the nipples became inflamed. Just manboobs I thought.
But they started to bud, the areola became more developed and pushed their way forward into my favorite polo shirt so I had to cover them with tape. But then they started to fatten. Becoming small bumps that turned into orbs, the areola had become about the size of silver half dollar coins. As I went to bend over to pick up a pen the whole thing came crashing down. The rubber band snapped, my jeans fell down to my knees and my big ass was shown to all in the street. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a glass store window and looked at what people were wolf whistling about, one guy handed me money through the elastic band of my underwear, as if I were a stripper. But looking at my inflated ass, the swell of my stomach and the growing bumps on my chest I realized I might just be pregnant.
"Ooh!", I gasped, as my hands flew to my swollen belly. I felt something strange. At first, I thought that something else was about to change, but then I realized that that wasn't it... whatever I was carrying within me was simply kicking my bladder. An urgent desire to go to the toilet had never been so strong. I pulled my pants up and waddled down to the local toilet. Due to the size of my chest and belly I had been missing the urinal lately so I had to sit down to have a piss.
Now I looked at the three home pregnancy kits that reacted to some hormone in a pregnant woman's urine. All three were positive, three strikes and I was knocked up. I had been born a man, raised as a male, had a cock that still worked and yet I had a fucking bun in the oven. Preggers, Preggo, knocked up like a Brazilian hooker in some slum in Rio. That's when the reality hit me like a hammer to the back of my head. Laura wasn't gone, she was pregnant and that pregnancy was bleeding into my male form.