Chapter #7"Yes, please." by: enigma   "Yes, please," you said. "The sooner I can get out of this place, the better."
Saunders smiled at you. "Take care of yourself, Tim. I'll see you soon." With that, he left. You felt excited to see your father. You'd only dealt with doctors since the accident and been in a drug induced coma for a month. You were ready to see a friendly face. However, when there was a knock on the door, you suddenly felt very nervous. This was the first time someone would see you. The first time someone that counted would see you. How would he react? Would your dad look at you like Tim Connors, his son? Or would he look at you like Jennifer Connors, his wife? Somewhere in between?
As soon as the thought entered into your head, it disturbed you. No matter how he saw you, in a technical sense, you were his wife. Oh no, you silently lamented. However, before your thoughts could spiral deeper into despair or disgust, the door opened.
Your father quickly strode across the room. "Tim!" he said, smiling. You didn't have time to react before he leaned in and warmly embraced you. "I'm so glad you're alright, son." Relief washed over you, your fears assuaged. Son, you thought. I'm his son. Slowly, he released you from the hug, taking the seat previously occupied by Doctor Saunders. "How are you feeling?"
You shrugged. "I don't know, Dad. I mean, this is fucking crazy..." He shook his head knowingly. "Sorry about the language."
"It's alright, it's alright. Really, you're an adult now. You can say whatever you want!" he said, obviously trying to make light of the situation. It was a bit awkward, but you appreciated the attempt.
"So... where are Tabitha and David?" you asked.
"They're in school. School's back in session," he explained.
"So much for my summer break," you joked weakly. Your dad gave a forced laugh. "Um... are they handling things okay? You know, about my situation and all?"
"Well, losing your mother has been hard on us all, Tim," he said, palming the back of his neck. "We all miss her. And you. Tabitha seems like she's adjusting pretty well. She volunteered her services to teach you all about, um," he paused uncomfortably, "being a woman. And David..." He trailed off.
"David?" you pressed.
Your father took a deep breath. "He's been spending a lot of time with Claire. So, I guess that's pretty usual. I don't think he's handling the idea of you coming home looking like Jennifer, um, your mother."
"How does he think I feel?!" you shouted. "Is this going to be easy for anyone?"
"Just give him some time, Tim. I know he'll come around once you're back home." The conversation quickly transitioned into an awkward silence. Is this how it's going to be with everyone? you wondered.
"H-how, uh, how was my funeral? You know, never thought I'd be alive to ask that question," you said with a half-hearted laugh.
"Pretty somber," he replied. "It's been difficult to grieve. Hard to be sad about you dying when we all know you are still alive. Hard to feel like your mother is really gone when it looks like she is still alive. Weird feeling, but we put on a good show for the crowd. You had a good turn out, though." He stopped to think for a moment. "Randall's been taking it pretty hard."
Randall was your best friend. You had met back in kindergarten and been friends almost immediately. Over the years the two of you had become virtually inseparable. Before the accident, the two of you had been making grandiose plans for your senior year.
"You didn't tell him?" you asked nervously, half hoping that he had, half hoping that he hadn't. You hated to think of Randall falling to pieces over your death, especially since you were still alive. However, you cringed at the idea of him finding out you were in your mom's body. You were sure that Randall would understand, sort of. He was a constant goofball, always ready to joke about anything. You didn't think you were quite ready to laugh about this just yet. Not to mention, Randall was always quick to point out what a MILF your mom was, never failing you to torment you with the knowledge of his crush on her. For the moment, you were glad he didn't know.
"No," said your dad. "That NDA is pretty ironclad. Anyway, I didn't know if you would want me to tell him or not. I'll leave it up to you, Tim."
"Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it. This is all pretty embarrassing..." you said, feeling your cheeks redden. "Being 'Mom' and all..."
Your Dad grasped your hand. "Son, this is all strange and awkward, but I promise I'm going to do my best to make things as normal as possible, okay?" It was odd, your dad had never grasped your hand like that before. It made you feel a bit funny, but you tried to not let it show. You didn't want to embarrass him or make him uncomfortable.
"I'm not going to have to go to school anymore, huh?" you asked, whimsically.
"Ha ha. I don't think so." Releasing your hand, he became very serious. "Do you feel up to talking about how we're going to have to do things?"
Knowing you were going to have to face the music sooner or later, you said, "Sure. Kinda good to get it out of the way."
"Well, I take it Dr. Saunders explained things a bit?"
"Yeah," you replied. "He said that when I'm out in public I have to pretend to be mom. I think I can pull that off."
"You do understand what that means, right, Tim?" he asked, uncomfortably.
"Um, no...?" You were unsure of what he was getting at.
Your dad grimaced. "Tim, well... I mean, basically... It means that in the eyes of everyone else, you're my wife. It means you are Tabitha and David's mother." You gulped. "It means that when people are watching, you have to act wifely, motherly."
"Okay, Dad."
"About that..." he said, looking uncomfortable, "Maybe you should start calling me Don. It's... just a bit much when you look like your mother and are calling me 'Dad."
"Um, does this mean you are going to call me 'Jenny'?" you asked, desperately hoping the answer was "no".
"Well, when we are out and about, yes. When we are home, away from prying eyes, you're still Tim. Does that sound fair?" You nodded. "Now, you obviously can't go to school anymore. High school, at least. If you want to take some classes at the junior college, that's fine by me. However, it's been hard trying to run the house on my own, have you in here, work, and still try to raise Dave and Tabs. I don't want to force you into anything, but your mother did all the cooking, cleaning, and shopping and..."
"And you were wondering if I would pick up where she left off," you said, finishing his sentence. It didn't seem like an unrealistic expectation. He was busy working all week and some weekends. Still, you felt hesitant. You were so stoked for senior year, going to college, having a life. Now, you were going to be playing housewife. You shrugged, it would be selfish not to help in someway. "I guess that makes sense. It kinda fits in with having to play the role."
"And don't worry about the marriage," he said. "Let's just try and wait a couple years and get Tabitha off to college and then we can work out some kind of divorce arrangement. I'll always take care of you, Tim. No matter what. I just..."
"Da-uh, Don," you said, "let's figure out the um, marriage details later. I don't really want to think about it. Do you think we can get out of here?"
"Yeah, yeah! Absolutely," he grabbed a bag by the side of the bed. "I brought a change of clothes in the other day. Nothing to fancy, just the basics. We can work on your wardrobe with some of that money from the hospital."
"Sounds great," you said. The idea of wearing your mother's clothes was highly unappealing. You slid off the bed and took the bag into the bathroom to change. Inside, you found a pair of your mother's tennis shoes, jeans, white cotton briefs, a bra, and a simple tank top. "First things first." You bent down, stepping into the panties. You raised them under hem of the hospital gown, pulling them into place. You could feel the cloth fit snugly against your new shape. You pressed forward trying to forget about your change in plumbing.
You pulled the jeans out next. Sitting down on the toilet, you pushed your feet into the respective cuffs and started to pull them up. They fit over your calves easy enough, but your thighs were another story. It took some wiggling and finesse, but you managed to get them up. You repeated the process to get them over your hips. The jeans were tighter than any piece of clothing you had ever worn. You ran a hand over your back side. I can't believe how big my ass is! I have a "mom ass"... You scowled a bit. Your hips weren't much better. Mom had three kids after all. Your body was in good shape overall, but being 40, it looked a bit matronly. Your waist was tiny and high, your stomach was tight but bore the old and faded stretchmarks upon it. Fully removing the hospital gown, you forced yourself to look at what you had been dreading.
Breasts. Your mother's breasts. Your breasts. They looked big and somehow felt bigger. From what you could see in the mirror, they were remarkably perky for being so large. Sitting high on your chest, they looked like a ripe pair of watermelons. The nipples were thick and pink with large prominent areolas. You could feel their weight tugging at your shoulders.
Taking the bra in hand, you went about putting it on. With it fitted, you couldn't get the clasp to work. Just as you were starting to make sense of it, you heard a knock at the door. "You ready to go, Tim? You've been in there forever?" Slowly, the knob started to twist and the door began to open...  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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