The Auto-Closet - Part Six

"No, I'm just saying you don't understand. It would be unfair to take back the offer now. Families are a lot of work, not that he'd know about work. Maybe this will open his eyes" my mother whines, spitting out her references to me in a venomous grumble.

I could admit it, I hadn't been the best son growing up. I'd been fairly lazy, really doing my chores unless eventually forced to do so. I'd never been into the usual family events, the birthdays and holidays that went by with minimal interaction from myself. The thought of her still holding a grudge over all that, over a decade after I had left home, was downright bone-chilling

.

"You...who are..." I manage to blurt out in my sweet feminine digitized voice, the darling voice unable to carry any sort of fear or malice as it pumps through my speakers.

Before I can finish the thought however a weak little thumping rises up from downstairs, the gentle rapping of knuckles on wood echoing up through the stairwell before the doorbell begins to chime melodically.

My mother gaps at the sound, waddling her way towards the bedroom door with a constant stream of pained hisses and grumbling as she feels her aching body shift beneath her. "Should have called...canceled so...wouldn't be carrying these..." she mutters, her words barely reaching me as she slips out into the doorway and races down the stairs with a pained yelping.

Sighing to himself David begins to fiddle with the control panel of the Auto-Closet, setting up for the next operation while his wife greets whoever is at the front door.

"David, please you have to..." I call to him, watching as he hangs his head and sighs again.

"I told you I'd try, but..." he explains, pausing as he inhales through clenched teeth. "Looks like I'm in the doghouse myself..." he continues, shuddering at some worrying thought before muttering under his breath. "Hopefully not literally though."

Our conversation ends rather quickly as we hear the sound of footsteps climbing the steps, the grumbling voice of my mother reaching us from the landing as she feels her heavily augmented body threaten to burst at the seams.

"I don't even want to think about going up and down these stairs" she hisses, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she slowly waddles towards the bedroom.

"Awwww..." coos a sweet concerned voice, a slow set of footfalls following my mother onto the upstairs landing. "Is it painful? The...you know..." she asks, her wholesome and warm voice shaking a little with concern.

"Yes..." hisses my mother as she steps into the room, clutching at her waist and holding her chest firmly with one of her arms. "I mean no, not what you're here for dear. You'll feel amazing, trust me" she explains, ushering in the person from the hallway. "You almost had to fight me for a ride in that...thing"

As the woman in the hallways steps nervously into the room my mind draws a blank, my words leaving me as she comes into focus on my little camera. She stands at around 5'8", her shoes easily adding around an inch to her height. Her long dark auburn hair is pulled back into a bit of a ponytail, the thick mass of hair splaying out and fraying at the ends likely thanks to the cool island air. She appears to be in her mid-thirties, the slight smile lines and crows feet beginning to show her advancing age. Her skin holds only the faintest of tans, her complexion having shifted with the poor weather and lack of sun, or potentially due to some change in her routine.

Her eyes are a bright hazel, their size enhanced by the pair of red-framed glasses perched on her snub nose. With only a light coating of makeup on her face, namely a coat of red lipstick, the faint bags under her eyes stand out. Her lips aren't necessarily thin, though they appear so as she smiles at my mother, her top row of teeth showing in a toothy grin and revealing the front two as slightly crooked. Her jaw is relatively square, the bold feature not quite appearing as delicate as her demeanor.

She is dressed in a large black woolen jacket, the buttons completely undone and the bottom hanging close to her knees. A burgundy turtleneck sweater covers her body beneath the jacket, the tight clingy material appearing to have quite a lot of give to it. Her chest bulges against the stretchy purple material, the massive mounds of flesh bouncing slightly with each of her waddling steps. The outline of a bra can be made out through the straining sweater, the cups appearing slightly too small as her chest spills out ever so slightly at the top.

I let out a soft squeak of horror as I see her stomach, the burgundy sweater bulging out over the firm bump beneath. One of her hands cradles the distended bulge carefully, perhaps finding it easy to move around with the weight supported. While not looking like she is about to pop at any moment her pregnancy is still very pronounced, my mind racing as I try to think of any way out of this.

Still enshrouded by the jacket for the most part her lower body appears to be rather plush, her wide motherly hips having built up a doughy layer of baby weight. Her legs are encased in a tight pair of black pants, the elastic material stretching comfortably to conform to her changing body. A pair of thick muddy light brown boots adorn her feet, the sort of attire that certain fit the pastoral and muddy island.

Looking over at me as I gasp the woman lets out a frightened shriek, her hands rising up to cover her mouth in shock. "That's...that's so..." she whimpers, her voice shaking as she stares straight at me.

"That's going to be your replacement for a little while" my mother coos, gently taking the woman's hand and leading her towards the Auto-Closet. David looks up as they approach, cocking an eyebrow as he realizes he doesn't recognize the woman.

"Right..." mutters my mother, standing between the two of them. "Monica, this is my husband David" she explains cordially, grimacing as she grumbles under her breath "for now..."

"It's a...pleasure to meet you" coos the sweet expectant mother, holding out a ringed hand to shake David's eagerly.

"Same to you" David responds, reaching out to clasp hers into a firm handshake. "I wish it was under...better circumstances."

With David's little comment my mother quickly nudges him in the ribs, reminding him of who exactly was in charge. "Can David get you anything dear?" my mother says in a doting fashion, practically going goo-goo over the tired-looking pregnant woman. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Oh no no no" Monica responds, weakly waving her hands in protest. "I can't, no caffeine until..."

"I know dear, I know" my mother says, patting Monica on the shoulder. "But you'll be able to have it soon enough. So...what can David get you?" she asks again, nodding for David to prepare to leave the room.

Pausing for a moment, her hands rubbing her taut belly, a sly smirk begins to spread across Monica's lips. "I'll have a coffee please...and a glass of wine." My mother beams with a cruel smirk of her own, her eyes darting to me for a second before she calls out to David.

"Did you get..." she begins to say, her questions getting cut short as David reaches the door.

"Coffee and wine, I got it" he states, quickly making his exit in the hopes of getting back in mom's good books. "A little early for wine but I guess that's..." he mutters under his breath, closing the door as he heads downstairs.

With David gone my mother quickly sets about getting the Auto-Closet open, my empty-headed body floating naked in a tank in the back. Monica gasps as she watches my brainless form bob in the tank, her face twisting between a look of horror and glee at the sight and the thought of having it for herself.

"Alright dear" my mother mutters, the Auto-Closet quickly opening up. "While David's gone let's get you sorted, we don't want any strange men seeing you naked" she continues with a cackle, glancing over her shoulder at my disembodied gray matter.

"Is it...um..." Monica mutters, clutching at her belly with trepidation. Her eyes scream with pure eagerness, a drive to hope straight into the machine, but her maternal instincts cry for her to steer clear.

"Safe? Of course dear. At least until twenty-eight weeks according to the manual, then there are problems with premature... How far along are you again?" my mother asks, looking down at the modest yet prominent bump.

"Oh...Nineteen weeks give or take" Monica chirps back in a delighted fashion, obviously relishing the life growing inside of her. Her cheeks grow flushed as she pauses for a moment, her eyes darting to the naked young man in the tank at the back of the closet. "So...do I just..." she mumbles, nibbling at her bottom lip with her slight snaggle tooth front teeth pressing into the red-painted flesh.

My mother merely nods, the smile on her lips growing wider and wider as Monica pulls her jacket off. As she bundles it up and places it at the foot of the bed I'm finally able to make out more of the expecting mother's body, her thick thighs and jiggling fatty rear coming into view for the first time since her arrival. Her black elastic pants stretch over her overly generous behind, the clingy material helping to provide it with support as the flab is given a taut yet constantly wobbling shape.

Her arms appear to have a slight amount of soft plush to them, though there is definitely a toned musculature deeper within beneath everything else.

"I...uh...haven't been able to...and the cravings...I mean..." the meek woman mutters as she nervously twists to look at her inflated behind. My mother merely waves her concerns away, chuckling slightly at the excuses.

"It's alright dear, it's natural" she coos, lightly pressing on Monica's shoulder as she is guided into the Auto-Closet. "A little weight gain is nothing to worry about. Besides, it won't be your weight much longer."

I watch as Monica's lips quiver at the support, her overly hormonal mind reeling at the care she was being shown by a relative stranger. The doors close around her before she can say another word, the hands of the Auto-Closet shifting around her as the anesthetic fills the room. The hands work a great deal slower with Monica than they had with my or my mother's bodies, a set of padded arms holding and supporting her baby bump as she is stripped down in preparation for the procedure.

As her clothes are gently removed I let out a whimper, my eyes being drawn immediately to her stomach and the tight bulging stretchmark pocked flesh. Her belly button presses otherward, the white lines running down either side and around her hips seeming far too pronounced for being this far along with the pregnancy. Her chest appears engorged, the tight pale flesh looking oddly full as her thick pink nipples stand at full attention.

A short trimmed section of hair rests between her legs, the auburn pubes having been cut back but not shaved either out of aesthetic purposes or due to inability from tiredness or reach. Her long hair is soon let down, tumbling from the ponytail and draping over her shoulders before ending down between her shoulder blades.

The procedure plays out like it had too many times before, the metal hands containing the scalp in a tube before carefully excising the flesh and bone. Monica's brain is wrapped in a thin protective membrane before being shifted and cut free by one of the hands wielding the strange little clip.

Her naked body is gently lowered into the floor with a great amount of care, a new tube of Vita-Fluid quickly getting filled for her as she drops out of sight. Before I can watch my own body emerge my mother waddles over to me, picking up my tank violently.

"Let's see how you like being an underappreciated mother" she huffs, her body straining with the weight of my vessel as she waddles back towards the Auto-Closet. "Cooking, cleaning, driving everyone everywhere without so much as a thanks."

"What do you..." I manage to squeak out, the female robot voice failing to reflect my nervousness. "You can't be serious about me carrying..."

"Oh I'm very serious" my mother taunts, chuckling slightly as we reach the Auto-Closet. "I may even try talking to Monica into letting you help her push the little treasure out. It'd only be...what... another twenty or so weeks?" she asks with feigned ignorance, giggling to herself as my digitized voices whimpers at the threat.

Eventually I hear the Auto-Closet open once again, a weak groaning coming from the chamber in my old voice. My mother spins me around, relishing the moment my body staggers out of the booth dressed in the same black button-up shirt and jeans she had worn out the night before.

Monica blinks her eyes rapidly, her mind adjusting to the perfect vision she now has. Her breath comes out in subtle gasps, her borrowed stolen mouth hanging open as her lips cruel into a gleeful smile.

"I feel..." she mutters, jumping up with a start as she hears her voice. A yelp and effeminate squeal escape her lips, her hands flying up to her fuzzy face as she lets out another loud yelp in response to bristly hairs coating her chin.

"Stronger?" my mother asks, moving me into the Auto-Closet and placing me on the floor. "Taller? Younger? Maybe..."

"Free" Monica whispers to herself, freezing up and looking horrified as she realizes what she said. "I...I mean...I would never...I love my..." she blurts out, hunching down as she tries to tuck her head away like a shy little turtle.

"Sweetheart" my mother coos, hugging my former body in a reassuring fashion. "You are free, it's one of the benefits of being a virial young man" she chuckles, relating far too heavily after her night with that bubbly blonde.

"I know...but...oh gosh...are you sure he'll be okay...I mean...Stephie can look after herself now, but John and Harry are so close to leaving the nest, they need extra attention if they're going to do well in school. I mean, I know I didn't, but I'm still meant to help. Damien needs to get to his piano lessons, and Joey needs to go to soccer practice. Gracie and Claire have been so...difficult since starting school, and I haven't been able to do help with their dance classes because of..." Monica rambles, growing more and more flustered as she works through her responsibilities.

"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...