Professional Witchcraft, Part 6 (Multi TG Preg)

By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for Planologer

Max is an ordinary young man struggling in college, while his parents Emma and Francis are dealing with an unexpected pregnancy. But everything changes when Aunt Lily drops by for a visit to his family. Aunt Lily is a witch, and thinks she can solve Emma and Francis’ marital problems, just like her apprentice thinks she can help Max and his friend Corey with their gender studies course. Soon Francis will find himself a woman, and Corey will get to experience the other gender too!

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Part 6: Following Francis

Francis was struggling. He’d already submitted his UMIF (Unexpected Magical Interference Form) and his work had brought in an Arcane Tester to ensure the veracity of his claim, but that didn’t make it any easier to head into the office now as a woman eight months into a pregnancy. She was, effectively, Rose again, albeit Rose at the age of forty and, again, eight months into a pregnancy. Becoming a woman again after so many years was already weird enough - he’d forgotten what it was like to have to wear a supportive bra, let alone for the monsters jutting out from his chest now. Clearly, his female self got stonkin’ huge boobs thanks to being knocked up. That was nothing compared to the actual reality of being knocked up, however: Francis could feel the baby he’d put inside Emma squirming about in his new womb, shifting and kicking and then stirring quietly as they slept. It was the strangest damn feeling in the world, and the fact that it made him need to run to the bathroom multiple times across a short span was finally enough for him to understand his wife’s tiredness from being pregnant. That and the lack of breath and general lack of mobility. Oh, and the discomfort.

The last was a feeling he was getting used to, and it wasn’t just physical discomfort either. Now as a woman, Francis was the subject of amusement for all of his coworkers. Given the partial-freelancer element of his work, he at least didn’t have a huge number of people to contend with, but waddling into work and explaining himself to Geoff, his manager, was certainly awkward.

“Um, can I help you, miss?” he had asked.

Francis had simply thrust the UMIF printed form straight into Geoff’s face.

“Just read it, Geoff. And please, don’t make fun.”

To his credit, Geoff hadn’t. Instead, he’d been fascinated.

“Francis? Our Francis? How in the twilight gate did you get turned into a woman? And a pregnant woman at that?”

“It’s a long story,” the shorter woman said.

“Well, I’d be keen to hear it.”

“Trust me, it’s not too funny. Can I go in?”

“Sure, sure. Is the baby yours? As in, is that the one Emma’s carrying or a new one?”

Francis grunted, lugging his baby belly in the maternity work clothing he’d been forced to wear. It was a dark, professional dress, of course, but he refused to think of it as a dress, so ‘maternity work clothing’ it was. It did little to hide his rather impressive bust, and certainly not his round dome of a stomach. What could?

“It’s the same one alright, ngh! I can tell because Emma always complained about the little tyke kicking her in the spine. I didn’t know what that would feel like. Trust me, Geoff, curiosity killed the cat, alright.”

“I imagine! I’ll tell everyone you’re coming up and warn them.”

Francis winced. “You don’t have to. I can just pretend to be, er, a fill-in, right? Do my presentation on ‘behalf of Francis’ to the clients, then get out?”

But Geoff sadly shook his head. “I’m afraid in UMIF incidents everyone needs to be aware. Best rip of the bandaid, right?”

And so it was that Francis was quickly known to have been transformed into a pregnant woman. The men snickered and giggled, making little jokes and doing their best to get a visit from HR when they commented on the ‘milkers’ that Francis had, and how they were even more impressive than Emma’s.

“Oh, shut up!” Francis said. “If you’re going to comment on my body, at least get me something to put warm water to soak my feet in. These ankles are killing me.”

But still the comments persisted from the cubicle crowd, whispered words that made the feminised, impregnated former man cringed with embarrassment.

“Did you get a look at Francis? Talk about a short straw! What’s the bet his wife had it done so she can skip the birth this time?”

“I heard he requested it, some sort of fetish thing.”

“Makes sense, with those big knockers of hers.”

“Serves him right. I’ve been pregnant twice, and more husbands could learn some perspective from it!”

Unusually, the women of the office were at least a bit more sympathetic, that last comment from Samantha - the office nag - notwithstanding. They cooed over Francis’ baby belly, made sweet little jokes, and even gave suggestions for how to alleviate back pain and deal with bladder issues. Somehow, this was the most embarrassing thing of all. 

Naturally, word got around fast, but somehow there are always those who don’t read their emails. Francis was technically in both marketing and software design departments, so there was a big overlap of those who were already giggling at his pregnant predicament, but others still entered the room, curious why a rather mega-pregnant woman was in Francis’ seat and somehow not on maternity leave already. Each time he would sigh and have to explain his situation, and realise even more how much his peers were definitely not going to forget this.

Plus, he was pregnant. His stomach was huge and stretched, a baby was shifted around and making it hard to concentrate, and his boobs were big and - he suspected - a bit leaky, but he was too afraid to go to a private room for pumping, and not just because he didn’t have a pump, but because no one would let him forget it. Didn’t stop the mothers of the office letting him know the best way to pump anyway.

Finally, the dreaded hour arrived: the time of the presentation. Francis usually loved presentation. The high-stakes flashy musical charisma of it all spoke to a dramatic side of him that rarely got to come out. It was strange, he didn’t really get that way about anything else, preferring to live a pretty milquetoast life. But in the boardroom, putting a pitch forward to investors and showing them how their webpages could revolutionise their income streams and marketing strategies . . . it made him feel on top of the world.

But this time he waddled in, clutching his heavy belly. He planned to just tell the clients - representatives of a flower seed and gardening supply business called VeggiePatch - that he was representing Francis. Unfortunately, Geoff pre-empted him.

“Pay it no mind, people! Poor Francis here is dealing with a magical spell laid upon him by a relative witch. He’s currently carrying his wife’s baby for her. It’s all very lovely and compassionate, which is just the kind of vibe we like to put out with our company.”

Eyebrows raised across the board. 

“Is - is that so?” the head client, a man named Brian said.

Francis cringed. “It’s . . . yes. I’m, uh, taking a load off.”

“Good on you!” their sole female representative said. “Wish my husband had done that for me!”

Francis grinned sheepishly, but found her comments actually helped. He gathered himself and got started, bringing up the proposed website design and online sale service on the screen.

“Now, your current website only has basic utility and function, but we can put something much flashier together for you, while still keeping with your rustic gardening vibe. See here . . .”

The pitch began, and he found himself, thankfully, slipping back into salesman mode. It wasn’t perfect, and there were a few hiccups - namely the literal pregnancy hiccups he got that Emma had complained off. At one point he also got a bit out of breath and had to pause.

“Been there!” joked the woman, whose name was Heather, and that too alleviated him a little, even if his cheeks were burning red.

Brian made the pitch especially awkward for Francis. Despite literally knowing that he was meant to be a man, the head honcho of VeggiePatch continued to stare at Francis in a weird way, and it was only in the closing five minutes that Francis realised that his maternity dress buttons had undone at the top, exposing more than a hint of deep, curvy cleavage.

“Well, Francis, despite recent magical changes I’d say that went well!” Geoff said, patting Francis on the back. Normally it would be a slap of approval, but clearly he was already thinking of Francis as a woman.

“Good to know, Geoff. I won’t lie, I was nervous. Hoping to have this undone soon.”

“Yes, well, speaking of undone . . .”

Geoff coughed a little. 

“Sir?”

“Well, I was impressed with your work, Francis, but, well, seeing as you might be a woman for a few days yet, potentially, and I understand that you have a right to be whatever gender you want, it’s just that . . .”

Francis raised an eyebrow. “Geoff, what is it?” he asked, folding his arms between his breasts and belly. It accidentally emphasised his deep cleavage, and Geoff looked up at the ceiling in response.

“It’s just that HR says you still need to meet company dress code, and I’d agree.”

“I’m wearing a professional maternity dress!”

“Yes, well, perhaps . . . perhaps a better fitting one would be appropriate. One that doesn’t show so much, how shall I put it? Decolletage?”

Francis’ stomach dropped. Not literally, thank the stars - or else birth would be days away.

“I understand,” he said, feeling more like a woman than ever.

“I’ll get the company to give you the standard maternity leave package information pamphlet too. Er, just in case you, er . . .”

Francis sighed. “I can promise you that’s not happening.”

“Still, just in case,” Geoff said.

Suffice to say, Francis was feeling more humiliated than ever. He returned to his desk to more looks and stares, and then, to add to the frustration, his stomach growled loudly.

“Hungry?” Jack called from across the aisle. “I’m not surprised, Francis. You’re eating for two, now!”

“Shut up.”

***

Francis returned home feeling tired, exhausted, sleepy, and wrung out, not to mention any other adjectives that denoted a lack of energy and a strong desire to lie down. He recalled that Emma had often complained of this feeling, and he had repeatedly told her something along the lines of, “perk up, dear! It’s the miracle of life you’re performing!”It didn’t feel like the miracle of life right now, and he felt like an ass of a husband. Francis re-entered the family home with this in mind, determined to fix things up and get this baby back into his wife.

“Emma!” he called as he entered, somehow still not used to his sweet ‘Rose’ voice. “Are you home?”

“Right here,” she said, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. His wife had just exited the kitchen, and strode with such speed that he hadn’t expected it. Not being practically eight months pregnant no doubt helped in the matter. 

“Sorry, I’m not used to you being so . . . quick,” he said.

Emma smirked. “And I imagine you’re not used to being so slow, hmm?”

Francis tried not to blush. He nearly even succeeded. “Look, it’s been a tiring day, Emma. Can we talk about this? I think I’ve learned my lesson and it’s time Aunt Lily switched us back.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Emma was incredulous. “Are you serious? You’ve been pregnant for less than twenty four hours and you’re already over it? Imagine how I feel! Or felt, I suppose you might say. I feel like a million backs without all that load in my belly, let alone the sore boobs and swollen ankles. I got the first good night of sleep I’d have in ages!”

It was true: while Francis had tossed and turned in the night, struggling with the swollen, life-filled belly he now had, Emma had been out like a light. More than that, she’d been able to sleep on her damn back for once, which was her preferred method of sleeping, but far too arduous with a great weight pushing down upon your organs.

“Look, I understand that,” Francis said. “But you have to know this is ridiculous, right? I’m meant to be a man, by the Gods! And let’s not start with the fact that it made my job so much harder and embarrassing today.”

Emma raised her eyebrow higher. “Oh, it made your job harder, did it? Your rather immobile job? As opposed to me, touring people around houses, going up and down the stairs and having to drive about constantly with my belly squashed against the steering wheel? Oh, I can barely imagine how difficult it must have been!”

Francis was riled. “Stop it! Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was . . . too callous with your pregnancy.”
“You mean the ‘miracle of life’? That’s what you told me it was, remember? You said I should be ‘thankful’ for it. Thankful! I’m nearly forty and it’s a strain on the body, as you know!”

“I get it. I’ll do what I can to make it up and help you with the burden, but you can’t stay angry at me, Emma. Look, about the Rose thing-”

“Ah yes, the Rose thing!” she continued. “You mean that massive betrayal of my trust? How you pretended to be my female friend - the woman who became my best girlfriend during that period - all to presumably get info on me so you could get into my pants? And how you never told me about this deception? You’re damn lucky that Lily never told me, but then apparently you deceived her too - she says you told her I knew! I can’t believe it, I’m actually siding with a damn witch over my own husband!”

The baby kicked inside Francis’ belly, making him wince and Emma snort with karmic amusement. 

“Stars, that’s strange,” Francis grunted. “Can you calm down for a moment for Mommy and Daddy to chat?”

“Mommy and Mommy, more like,” Emma said. “And as I recall, you got a bit annoyed when I kept getting distracted during conversation.”

“Well, I was wrong! I admit that! Look, we can sort this out once you change me back and-”

But Emma raised a hand, cutting him off. The fact that she was now taller than him added an almost intimidating factor to her demeanour. 

“Oh no. This is going to last a little while longer. A lot longer, in fact. I’ve got a lot more on my plate I’m dealing with, and frankly I literally could not handle all the chaos happening right now if I had that baby in me. You can ‘carry’ them a bit longer for me while I deal with this insanity. You did want to ‘ease my burden’, after all.”

Francis was about to raise his voice, only for him to read something in his wife’s expression. “Wait, what chaos?”

Emma closed her eyes slowly and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Why don’t you go see our son in the living room, Francis? I imagine you’ll both have a lot to talk about. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go scream into a pillow and then yell at Valentina again.”

She stormed off, racing up the stairs as if she was taking every opportunity to exercise her now-freed muscles. Confused, Francis turned into the living room . . .

. . . only to find himself in a room of all women.

His sister Lily, looking stern and exhausted.

Her apprentice Valentina, looking guilty and chided.

And two young women - one tan-skinned and dark haired and with a very big chest, and the other blonde and petite. Both were on the couch together, and neither were anyone that Francis had ever seen before. That was, until the brunette woman turned to look at Francis with a guilty expression.

“Hey Dad?” she said.

Francis’ stomach dropped. Still not literally, though his baby took an appropriate moment to do what felt like a somersault in his new womb.

“Max?” he asked. “What in the hells happened to you?”

***

There was a lot to absorb in this new family dynamic. Emma was furious - damn furious. While she was actually quite glad to be pregnancy free for a while, she still didn’t love that Lily had used magic, or that it had been done through a little trickery. But for her apprentice to change Max like this, and without her permission, had left her not only aghast but raging. 

“Again, I’m so very, very sorry,” Lily said. “I truly didn’t want this to happen. And Valentina here will be on a very serious probation. Of course, we will find a solution.”

“With more magic!” Emma bemoaned. She gestured to her husband, who had listened to the story and gotten up to date over the last half hour while she’d been upstairs. “Do you see what she brings to the house? We invite a witch one time and no one is happy.”

“You have every right to be angry with me,” Valentina said.

“We are,” Max groaned.

Corey said nothing.

“But,” Valentina continued, “I never meant for this to happen. Really. I was just . . . look, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough to help,” Emma said. “Isn’t there a non-magical solution? This influence you two have just poisons everything! Why can’t you witches just stick to helping with the weather and blessing farmlands instead of mucking up family lives!”

“If you think that,” Francis said. “You’d want to take this baby back.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to slip out of that easily, not when you used magic to trick me in the first place! This is karma, as far as I’m concerned! Only, it seems to me that the one person at real fault here is the only one not being punished!”

Lily had been apologetic up to this point, but now she balled her fists, getting defensive. She took a step forward.

“I don’t know what your problem with magic is, Emma-”

“You helped my husband manipulate me!”

“I had no idea he’d do that, or even if he did manipulate you! I was just helping fulfil a request and test my magic. But that doesn’t explain why you’ve hated me from the beginning, and treated me like trash, and witchcraft in general as a profession. We do a lot of good things, I do a lot of good things! This is a disastrous mistake, but I won’t hear insults against me personally, Emma. I’m trying here, and you are not helping.”

Francis was getting agitated, and therefore so was his baby. It was oddly quite a companionable feeling. He could see his sister starting to brim with as much anger as Emma, and the three younger members present were getting as nervous as he was. An angry witch could be a real problem.

“Emma, she’s right. You’re taking this too far.”

Emma rounded on Francis. “Oh, so of course you take your sister’s side!”

“No, I just . . . damn it.” 

Emma waited for a moment for her husband to say something, but nothing came forth. “Typical,” she said, storming off.

Francis sighed and looked down over his rounded form. He turned to his sister. “Lily, maybe it would be best for you to take a hotel room while you’re in town, just for now. Would that work?”

Lily folded her arms. “That’s . . . not a bad idea, brother.”

“What about us?” Max asked. “I’m filling up with milk again?”

“You can take care of that part of it, dearie” Lily said, flourishing her hand dramatically, “and I can help you get a pump. And I can still come around - when invited - to try and unweave this magical complication.”

“My wife doesn’t hate you,” Francis said. “She just . . . needs time to cool off. She can be as stubborn as you, Lily.”

“Well, we’ll have to get along, I suppose, brother. We have to put these young ones back to their proper selves. I’ll get some tools ordered from my professional quarters - the arcane snap network should make it quick - and I can work to better diagnose what’s going on. I’m sorry I can’t do more for now, dearies, but even a great witch like myself can only do so much . . . when another apprentice witch causes a fuss.”

Valentina said nothing, but looked down at the floor.

“So, what, I just have to express milk whenever I get too full?”

“I’m sorry to say, Max, but yes,” Lily said. 

He turned to Valentina, who was nearby. “But what about the other thing during?” he whispered, practically hissing the question.

Valentina knew exactly what Max meant; the fact that, for whatever reason, poor Max felt intense pleasure when milking himself, and found it very hard not to emote and moan audibly in obvious orgasmic bliss when he was either milked or had to milk himself. She shrugged, looking guilty.

“I’d try a dampener spell, but I can’t risk it.”

“Great,” he said, putting his head in his hands and covering his eyes. Already, that now-familiar tingle was signalling that his breasts were producing more milk. It was also making him snackish - the milk needed to come from somewhere, after all.

Lily and Valentina began to pack up and ready themselves to find a motel. Francis patted his ‘son’ on the shoulder as he hoisted himself up.

“We’ll get us both back, son, I promise,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks Mom. I mean, Dad.”

Francis smirked. “No problem, daughter. I mean, son.”

The two exchanged a momentary chuckle, born as much from annoyance as dark humour. Francis stretched, putting his hands on his back, and noticed that Corey was looking at him, sneaking glances at his belly.

“I know, it looks ridiculous,” he said, cringing at the weight of it.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Cori said. “Pretty ridiculous, right? Does it feel kinda . . . cool, though?”

Francis chuckled. “When the baby kicks, I guess it’s ‘cool’, in a sense. I see how Emma occasionally smiled at it. Right now, I just feel emasculated and humiliated, like you two boys no doubt do. I was surprised you were so silent during that little meeting, Corey. I’m sorry you had to witness all that.”

Cori, of course, had been entirely silent entirely because she didn’t want to voice any objections. Obviously she wanted Max turned back, but the longer she could be a woman, the better! She could only look at Francis’ belly in a weird envy. She couldn’t admit this, though.

“Oh, I was just, you know, not wanting to get in the way of family trouble.”

“Wise.”

Max perked up. “Dad, why were you transformed into a woman before? Mom’s pretty upset about it.”

Francis huffed, rubbing his belly in the hopes that baby would settle again. “It’s a long story, kiddo, and I won’t tell it all. The short version is that I had a crush on your Mom but completely flopped in my attempts to get to meet her. She doesn’t even remember meeting me before I was a girl, that’s how bad it was. So I thought . . . if I’m so bad at approaching girls, why not get to know what it’s like to be one! I was desperate, and thought that maybe getting to know how women think up close would help me. Of course, I drifted into your mother’s orbit, but it wasn’t a deliberate thing. We just sort of . . . aligned. I’ve tried to tell your mother this, but she won’t believe me. I suppose I don’t blame her, since I kept up the charade of being Rose for months and months, and in the end did use a lot of what I learned about her to approach her again as me, as Francis. And it worked so well I just thought I’d tell her later. Only, later ended up being never . . .”

Max furrowed his brow. “Yeah, I can see why she’s angry.”

“Yeah. That was my choice though. I never expected you to become a woman though, kid, or Cori here. Look, as difficult as this is, we’ll patch things up as a family and come out stronger for it. This is my doing, and I’ll make it up to you guys. But I’ve also been a woman before, so despite our unfortunate circumstances, I want you to know this doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

Max nodded slowly, accepting his father’s words even if he wasn’t sure if they were right. Cori, on the other hand, lapped them up. She was already on board with this thinking.

To Be Continued . . .