The Auto-Closet - Part Seven

"Don't worry Jordan" my mother coos, rubbing Monica's shoulder as she starts up the Auto-Closet. Before the doors can close I watch her glare down at me as she remarks "It's only for a month, plenty of time to see if you're the right fit before Monica... Pops" she explains with a giggle, Monica for her part shuddering though failing to hide the grin plastered across my former face.

The Auto Closet hisses and whines around me, the mixture of the noise and the sealed doors blocking any more the conversation out in the bedroom as the metal hands descend from on high.

I howl and scream for them to come back, to give me back my damned body, before suddenly the world goes dark once again.

Slowly coming to I feel myself being held up by a series of heavily padded objects, the Auto Closet taking extreme care with my bloated body and the growing life inside. My fingers twitch and tingle as I feel my nerves begin to fire back to life, the new connections taking a moment to map themselves out.

Through the drug-induced haze I'm met with a surge of aches and pain, though less awful than those I had experienced in my mother's freshly refurbished body.

My feet feel swollen, aching and throbbing inside the tight confines of the boots I had been made to wear. My back practically creaks as I'm slowly left to stand on my own, my lower back in particular feeling well worse for wear than most of my body.

Straps dig into my soft supple shoulders, stinging my sensitive skin as they struggle to hold up the weight on my chest. Speaking of my chest, it feels so strange and uncomfortable. The new heavy breasts beneath me simply refuse to sit on the stretchy elastic material of the maternity bra, overflowing out the top as the material digs into the taut flesh. They feel so...full, aching with full yet ever-present discomfort due to their increased size.

As I'm finally left to stagger on my own two feet I stumble forward, one of my slender bony hands catching the doorway of the Auto Closet while the other dashes downwards to cradle the bulging mound that was my belly.

It's just so heavy, the skin being tight and distended over the swollen midsection I now had to house Monica's future child. My stomach churns, my face growing a pale green as I'm wracked with a wave of nausea both from the dawning realization of the situation and body I was in but also due to the morning sickness Monica had become all too used to.

Waddling from the Auto-Closet, desperate to find the bathroom I feel my hips sway and my thick juicy behind wobble inside the exceeding tight black pants. Something digs into my hips, sinking into the added baby weight Monica carried in her lower body, her now sadly ill-fitting panties quickly coming to ride up between my bulbous cheeks as I very slowly race to the bathroom.

My joints creak and pop with each step, the years of wear and tear along with the apparently several pregnancies she had gone through leaving her body in less than prime condition.

Tears quickly well up in my eyes as I run, or more accurately hastily waddle, towards the upstairs bathroom, my hands alternating between cradling my stomach and supporting myself against the walls and doorways of the house. For the first time I notice the glasses perched on the edge of my nose, the warmth of my tears fogging them slightly as I'm reminded of my now failing eyesight.

As I pace my way down the hallway I hear the floorboards creak beneath me, a combination of my awkward heavy steps and the new house settling making my movements all too audible for those around the house.

Voices carry up from downstairs, my mother's and my own laughing and chatting to each other through the actual words fail to reach me from so far away. David is unexpectedly absent from the discussion, though being in the dog house it is probably best he not speak his mind.

Reaching the bathroom I feel my mouth begin to salivate, a telltale sign of what was to come. My new tongue swishes about in my mouth, causing me to wince and gag as I feel it brush over Monica's snaggle-toothed buck teeth. It was someone else's mouth, someone else's spit and...

My train of thought rapidly derails as I ease myself into my knees, the hard bone and cartilage aching strangely as I rest on it. As I lean over the toilet bowl I'm forced to shuffle and adjust constantly, the distracting sensations of my engorged milky breasts and swollen belly likely being the new norm for Monica but not for me.

Auburn hair dangles in my face, forcing me to attempt in vain to pull it back with my ringed hand before I finally hurl, large sums of water and whatever mess Monica had eaten for breakfast coming up in a loud visceral display.

I hear my voice for the first time, the wholesome and warm motherly voice sounding pained and meek as it escapes my new lips. I lacked much of her delightful cheeriness, her soothing nature being lost in my expression as I grunt and groan over the toilet.

Lost in the disgusting turmoil wracking my body I barely notice the footsteps rising up the stairs, heavy stomping steps racing through the stairwell and down the hallway.

"Awwwwww" coos my former voice in a concerned manner, Monica quickly striding over to me with a definite feminine sway to her slender hips. She carries a large wine glass in her hand, the full vessel and the stains on her lips and teeth telling me that it wasn't her first glass.

"You poor thing" she mutters soothingly, placing the glass on the sink as she gets in behind me. Her hands quickly work to bundle my hair back, forming the same loose and messy ponytail she had worn only earlier this morning. "Better out than in" she giggles tipsily, rubbing my back with one hand as I feel my body easing up at the touch.

"You...you..." I whimper between long-drawn-out hours of gagging, my stomach still churning though now lacking anything to empty out at this point. "You...you stole...give me back..." I whimper, tears now rolling down my new cheeks as my eyes grow red and puffy.

"Stole?" Monica yelps, jumping a little at the accusation. "I was offered this...little holiday" she says innocently, grinning as she shimmies her hips and looks down past her now flat chest and to her new crotch. "Not so little really" she mutters under her breath, her intoxicated state making her speak a little too loudly and keeping her note from being all that private.

"I...I never off..." I blurt out, my sentence being cut off by a loud clearing of someone's throat from the door.

"It doesn't matter now does it" grumbles my mother, her face still sour and glaring as she shifts and adjusts her surgery laden body in the doorway. Her mood was already spoiled by having to deal with her body's temporary pains, any pleading simply falling on deaf ears.

"But you said he..." Monica responds, her words slurring a little before she clamps up at a glare from my mother.

"Like I said, it doesn't matter now" my mother chimes, struggling to sound pleasant to her new son as to not spoil the deal she had made."You're such a good boy, checking in our guest like this. Those are the signs of a good and caring son" she chuckles, giving me a wink as she reminds me of her long-term goals of replacing me.

Before either Monica or myself can respond my mother steps into the bathroom, lightly pushing Monica aside.

"Why don't you go downstairs and see if we have something for Monica here to eat?" She asks, the tone in her voice revealing the command hidden behind the question. "I'm sure you'll know what would settle her stomach" she continues, giving us a knowing smirk.

Monica, being all too used to following requests from others, practically jumps to it. She paused before leaving the room, grinning giddily as she takes the glass of red wine from the sink and happily takes a deep glug from the crimson liquid within.

As Monica leaves, her footfalls growing quieter as she disappears down the stairs, my mother looms over me.

"So...how does it feel?" She asks leaning over as I smell the wine on her breath.

"Bloated" she coos, flicking a bit of sick from my chest before letting her finger sink into the aching flesh.

"Emotional" she continues, wiping the tears from my cheeks before smearing them over the burgundy turtleneck I had been made to wear.

"Finally of some use" she finishes with, running her hands over my heavy taut belly.

I try to push her away, but between my sickened and weakened state and my position beneath her I simply wriggle in discomfort in place. Oddly, as she rubs my belly I feel almost content as I'm wracked with sensations more akin to comfort than the disgust I had expected.

"You...I can't believe you...she didn't even..." I croak, spitting out the saliva filling my mouth as I struggle to speak in my meek motherly voice.

"Like I said" she says with a shrug, standing back upright with a pained wince. "It doesn't matter now Monica, you're in there and I have a loving caring for a month. Oh, I wonder if he'll do the cleaning or maybe even cook dinner" she coos joyously, waddling herself towards the doorway.

"You...you fucking..." I groan, my legs shaking as I try to lift myself up from the toilet bowl.

"Language, you think you'll be able to talk like that around your family?" She chuckles, waggling a finger at me from across the room. As she slips from the bathroom she leans back in, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"Well?... come on, you can just sit there all day" she chides. "Come downstairs for some food before you leave, I'm sure you'll need some food for your busy day"