Part III
by Sydney Michelle
“Time for your injection, Mrs. Alexinova. Gotta keep those feminine hormones keeping your body tuned. No change in the mix this month, but we can expect a modification next month as your baby adapts your body to carry it easily.
“If you would bend over, Mrs. Alexinova; skirt up. Right cheek or Left?”
“Right it is.” Nurse Katy tugged down the silky black panties, exposing the pink orb of Elizabeth’s derriere. “Oh-h. what a lovely garter belt, black, lacy. Your dama dresses you well. Crinolines and lace?”
Ekatrina does like seeing me in frills and lace. And stripping them off me before helping herself to the contents. “She does like me in frilly things.”
“Pinch. Stick. There, all done, You will maintain the same weekly dose until next time. Then you’ll likely get an adjustment as your baby begins her second trimester. I said that already didn’t I? Just so long as you know what to expect. Have you all settled on a name for your daughter yet?”
Elizabeth shook her head as she pulled up her panties. “No, I don’t want to jinx things. Besides, there’s plenty of time to pick and mull, and change our minds yet. But something starting with an ‘E’”
“True. Just don’t go rolling through the doors to delivery still trying to settle. Next month, Mrs. Alexinova.”
Elizabeth shook down her skirts to follow Nurse Katy toward the appointment desk. Next month. And the month thereafter. Seven more months to motherhood, if I can still waddle then.
While Elizabeth waited for her next appointment to be confirmed, she pulled on her gloves, checked her face in the mirror once more. Good to go, presentable to the world. If I’m going to start really showing soon, I ought to make a stop in Claudine’s, to check out the latest pregnancy fashions. It’s not that I nee to buy something today, buy Claudine knows we’ve been trying for a child. Still, I’ll caution her to keep it mum for now. I ought to tell Ekatrina personally that my condition has been confirmed.
“Here you are, Mrs. Alexinova. Your next appointment is confirmed for four weeks from today. Same time, same place. And the paper copy of your prescription.”
“Thank you, Beverly.” Elizabeth smiled at the clerical as she put the slips in her purse. Beverly was an auburn haired, Gibson coiffed, shemale clerical, engaged, with a real sparkler on her finger. Dr. Charmaine made a point of hiring from within the community as much as possible to encourage her growing number of shemale clients from the Society. She certainly lived up to the Seahorse logo displayed in her waiting room. Elizabeth wondered how long it would be before Beverly was making use of the good Doctor’s services. “See you next month.”
Omphale Society Seahorse Symbol
Elizabeth settled into the leather seat behind the wheel of her Lincoln auto-car. She activated the destination list to select “Skyline Mall.” She pressed Start only to hear Nancy’s soft, feminine voice respond, “Please have all riders buckle their seat restraints.” Elizabeth sighed as she stretched the web belt to buckle up. Done, Nancy started up, backing out of the parking slot before rolling toward the lot’s exit. Elizabeth just sat there, folding her hands over her belly, not having to do anything but go along for the ride as she contemplated what lay before her.
She loved her car, Nancy, but how would she fit under the seat belt when she was nine months pregnant? Would she have to give it up for the dreaded crossover, the symbol of suburbia, to accommodate all the baby paraphernalia? Would she turn into the typical suburban housewife, comfortable dresses and hair in curlers rather than chic and sexy? Her schedule and energy dictated by midnight feedings, too tired to spread her legs to be mounted, and filled, and brought to orgasm? Or would the nearness of Ekatrina reaching for her I the middle of the night, the scent of her sex wafting over her, keep hr eager to clamp tightly to her, moaning as the pleasure of her pulses rolled through her?
That was the thought that drove it home. I am Mrs. Ekatrina Alexinova, comanly wife and mother-to-be. I am beginning to show, unlike my plans, and my bump will only become more prominent with each passing month. My bump will make me truly Ekatrina’s Trophy Wife, proudly displayed as proof of her viragility. I will be on display for the next seven months, getting bigger and bigger as I draw nearer to my delivery date.
She was a Trophy Wife! Ekatrina’s Trophy Wife! Her extended belly would proclaim the change to the next stage of her life! There had been so many changes in her life since meeting Ekatrina. First, becoming her birlfriend, coiffed, dressed, and bejeweled. Then the physical transformation from male to shemale with a testamentary ring in her septum. Then becoming her fiancee, with a ring on her finger and wedding plans to make alongside her mother. Then there had been that unforgettable moment the Bethany’s Bridal Boutique when the stress of selecting her bridal gown had become just too much! She threatened to walk down the aisle naked as the day she was born with a single red rose in her teeth. In the end she was beautifully gowned, coiffed, and bejeweled when she precessed down the aisle to recite her wifely vows to “Love, Honor, and Obey.” And be fertile. That marked her transition from pursued amante, to sweetly supportive spouse. A wife but still her red hot lover.
But now she was pregnant, very definitely pregnant, and no longer was her body completely her own. Not according to the good Doctor and the pamphlet she provided. Her daughter would be making changes to her body, besides the spreading waist line, so her body would accept the “Baby On Board” as friendly tissue, not an opponent to be discarded. There was still time before she felt the Baby move, proof of that Precious Life she carried. Time to learn intimatly the locations of every restroom at the places she frequented.
Nancy’s soft, feminine voice piped up. “We have reached our destination, Skyline Mall. Do you want me to search for a parking space?”
“Yes, Nancy. Await my signal.” Her autocar driver personality was both more reliable and more courteous than the share ride drivers she had had occasion to use. Unfortunately she could not help with bags or luggage. But neither could the autodrive cabs that had replaced most of the taxi fleet, Elizabeth had had to occasionally had to remind herself that “Nancy” was a powerful computer chip, not a real person. She was not programmed to provide a sympathetic shoulder to talk to, merely a reliable chauffeur.
As Elizabeth slipped out of the car, an idea sprung into her head. Perhaps a bit of shopping is in order. Perhaps Something in Red. Just the Thing to Turn a Woman’s head. Something in lace to show her bump but announce SHE was not dead. Elizabeth punched the SEARCH button as she turned toward the mall entrance. Nancy rolled away to find a parking spot. That’s just the ticket! Lacy and Sheer, and Cut Down to There, I’m Looking for Something, Looking for Something in Red.
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