Looking at me now with blonde hair, big tits, and a ginormous baby bump, you would not believe I used to be a man and a cat burglar.
I was hired to break into the private collection of a very wealthy man and retrieve certain items.
The job went perfectly.
I got all the items, and even something from my own private collection that was not on the list: a golden statue of a big-breasted pregnant goddess.
Little did I know when I got back to my apartment after dropping off the stolen items with the fence, finally touching the Idol with my own ungloved hand and putting it in my own private collection, that the Idol would work its secret magic and turn me into a pregnant woman.
After waking up as a pregnant woman, I went through so many different stages of panic, stress, and confusion. I have to pull myself together.
I peed like a horse before slipping on sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt that barely covered my baby bump.
I struggled to get my feet into a pair of trainers and tie them, with the bump always in the way.
I took the idle, which for some reason I felt was the cause of my misfortune, to a friend of mine.
After some tears, panic, and screaming, I managed to get him to accept my story and who I was.
I put the Idol down on his counter, and as he picked it up, he told me it was a very powerful talisman of motherhood and fertility.
He told me to return it to the person who stole it from, and maybe they could help.
I returned to the house where I had stolen so many items the other night and found the old man had not even reported them stolen.
I explained who I was, what I had done, and what I had taken, and he just smiled at me.
He told me every item in his collection had its own protective charm and would make the person who held it, without his permission, suffer and bring it back to him.
I begged him to reverse what the fertility symbol had done to me, but he just looked at me and told me there was nothing he could do.
I was a woman, and I was pregnant, and I was going to give birth to a healthy baby, and I was going to raise it as a loving mother would.
I imagine myself struggling as a single mother living in my tiny bachelor apartment, going through my savings, unable to work because of the baby, and struggling.
The old man could see the dilemma in my eyes and offered me a solution.
I am now his housekeeper and his bed warmer, and we are raising my child together in his strange, peculiar home filled with items that are not what they seem.
