Ordinary miracle

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Ordinary miracle



I was an average sixteen years old boy, and then things started changing. It wasn't funny anymore!



Note to readers. This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… We will circle back to it…




It was the last minute of the basketball game. We, the Navigators, and them, Red Rioters, with no clear leader. The score was 98:97, Rioters winning. We all are at our hoop again. Their forward is ready to throw but Kevin hits the ball and it falls into my hands. I turn around and there is nobody I can pass the ball to. They are blocked or in an even worse position than I am. Meanwhile, a clock on the wall shows 00:03 and turns into 00:02. I have nothing to lose. I throw the ball the entire length of the court. It hits the hoop with that specific whoosh sound and the clock turns to 00:00 while the scoreboard shows 98:100.

I was a hero. We won the last game of the season. Our position in state competition was secured. By one lucky throw. By someone, by me, who never was a hero. I was being considered to be cut from the team because I was unpromising. Nothing had changed. I still was the same old me. But today I was the hero.

The victory party was held for the team and cheerleaders at Angela's home. Angela Cassidy was like… like she owned the school. The same as her dad owned the whole town. So Angela was a senior. She wasn't a cheerleader. She was kinda the hottest girl and the best student but otherwise, she wasn't related to the team. But all parties were held at her home anyway. Nothing very special – just high schoolers partying. Like pizza, soda, and some beer for special boys and girls in the basement.

I was considering taking the second slice of Hawaiian pizza when Angela motioned to me, “Come with me, Ricky.”

My name's Ricky, by the way. I was a sophomore and not the kind of a boy someone from Angela's league wanted to be with. Five-seven and one hundred twenty pounds. Too small to be a real basketball player. But I was the perfect guard and was kept on the team for this reason.

Angela was in a league of her own. No boy would say no to Angela without ruining his life.

So Angela motions to come with her and other boys are patting my back and saying, “Hey, dude!” And I have to be delighted but I'm not. I'm like a deer caught in the headlight and can't say no. Such an appreciation and I wasn't happy.

Angela wasn't the girl I would like to be with. But I followed her upstairs to her room. She closed the door and started to undress me. I knew where it was heading.

“I have no protection,” I tried and it sounded like an excuse.

“Protection is the least your problem,” Angela whispered unbuttoning my jeans.

The rest went like in a fog. I was laid on my back and Angela positioned sitting on me. She jumped and screamed. Then everything ended abruptly and she left. I was laying on bed in a sticky goo and I wasn't sure did I really enjoyed what happened.

I showered and put my clothes on and then went downstairs to the other boys. Some of them high-fived me with the same, “Hey, dude!”


After the weekend at school, things flowed as usual. As if nothing happened. The coach analyzed our last game and mentioned me once when I missed Brian's pass. Our coach wasn't the kind of person to praise the boys. He paid more attention to our mistakes.

Winter was over. Together with winter the basketball season was over. The main sports at our school were baseball and soccer. I wasn't good at either. So now I was like all the other regular boys in regular PE class.

The constant fatigue was probably a sign I needed a vacation badly. Or maybe my body was longing for vitamins. Mom had bought me and Dad vitamins and special vitamins for her and my baby sister Cindy. Couldn't say they helped. Dad said I was getting lazy because I wasn't practicing basketball every day anymore. Maybe he was right.

At last, there was a light visible at the end of the dark tunnel – spring break. We had a party. Not so sophisticated as at Angela's home, just neighbors with their kids. The party was at my best friend Torrey's place. Only he was in football instead of basketball. He was in regular PE classes with me now because football season was in the fall. Otherwise, we shared almost the same interests. So the party was at his parents' place – big backyard, BBQ, pool, view of the ocean.

It was too cold for the pool and, by the way, it was empty and covered. And the view of the ocean wasn't as welcoming as it was in summer. Anyway, it was the first BBQ party in the open this year and it was great.

I usually liked BBQ. Open-air grilling, the smell of the smoke, and roasted meat. This time it stunk. Couldn't say what was wrong exactly. It stunk. For others, it was the same as always. Torrey with my dad were at the fireplace and they both were sniffing the smoke and getting high.

The smell was so terrible it made me puke. I was barely in time to get to the bathroom.



The BBQ party didn't go well, at least for me. Anyway, it was only one day. We had an eternity to the school start. I prefer video games. Torrey too. Or the mall.

My sister, Cindy, was four years younger and she was with her clique. I didn't have to babysit her and I could hang out with Torrey. We usually got to the mall with Torrey's sis Kelly who was a year younger than he was and her friends. Kinda chaperoning them. We were at the mall for different reasons. For Torrey and me, it was Arcade and girls. For Kelly and her friends, Jenny and Monique, boys and window shopping.

Sometimes we were together.

So the girls were window shopping and Torrey and I considered going our own way when we neared the dress shop with a big SALE sign.

The girls rushed in and we followed them to protect them from overspending. They were rummaging through racks and trying on dresses. Torrey and I stood there and waited.

One dress caught my attention. Cute, I thought.

“Who's cute?” Monique asked.

“What?” I wasn't sure we talked about the same thing.

“You said cute,” Monique insisted, “and I asked who's cute.”

“The dress,” I said blushing for some unknown reason.

“It really is,” Monique agreed and took that dress to the changing room to try it on.

At the end of the dress quest and after all the changes it was the only dress Monique had bought. Girls announced I was a fashion expert now.

The next stop was the food court. We agreed on pizza. Peperoni was the only topping that everyone accepted. Even Jenny. She usually was a picky eater.

The pizza tasted good but when I was about to take the second slice, I was felt sick. I barely made it to the bathroom in time.

It was the second time in two days. Did I need to start worrying?


School started and constant fatigue was what I felt every day. Vitamins didn't work. Or they were the wrong vitamins.

Torrey said he was constantly tired too. But… Football players started daily practices on the field. There were no games but they had to be in good shape. Coach Wilkinson made them sweat hard.

Then heartburn started for me. The first time I felt it, it was after like ordinary nausea and puking. I thought at first it was an after-effect. But it didn't go away. Then it started without nausea. And nothing helped. I tried to drink water. Nothing. Milk – nothing.

Uncle Barney had the same problem. Heartburn I mean. He took baking soda as a remedy. As I could remember, it helped. But I couldn't find baking soda at home. Baking powder isn't the same. I tried.

Then I got baking soda. It helped. But it added to already present bloating. Belching helped but not always.


I was waiting for the end of the school year like never before. One month was still in the way.

The weather was getting warmer and warmer with every day. We all had regular PE classes on the field. One day when all the boys were lined up on the field our couch said, “Mister Miller, you are getting fat...”

“Not your fucking business,” I thought to myself but didn't say a word. Because Miller is me. Yes, I was bloated. And I couldn't do anything about it. But I wasn't fat.

Then at home, Mom started inquiring what was wrong with me. There was no reason. I didn't say anything. Nor I didn't do anything different than usual. But you know how moms can be persistent.

“There is nothing wrong with me,” but then after a while, I added, “As you are asking, I would say your perfume is irritating.”

“What perfume?”

“Yours. I don't know Mom. It's your perfume, not mine. And it makes me feel sick,” I tried to sound reasonable.

“I don't wear perfume,” Mom said, “it's antiperspirant.”

So what a great difference? It did SMELL. And it did make me puke. And I puked. Why ask so much and don't do anything?


The summer was almost palpable. Only a couple of days and summer break!

I survived it at last. The school year was over. I hoped my health would improve now that there were no classes, homework, and PE.

I was at Torrey's place and we were in the pool. Then a little in the sun and then again in the pool.

“Your chest looks strange,” Torrey indicated my chest.

I looked down and there were dark circles around my nipples.

“Maybe chlorine irritation,” I offered.

“Maybe,” he agreed.

Those circles didn't go away. Even the day after. My mom had allergies to oranges and lemons and such. She had pills and lotion for a cure. She was at work so I raided her bathroom. I found a lotion for irritated skin and used it. I guess it helped.

“Were you looking for something special?” Mom asked when she was back home from work.

“My chest got irritated by chlorine in the pool,” I answered, “and I was looking for lotion against an allergy.”

“May I see?” she asked.

“There is nothing to look at,” I tried.

“Raise your hands,” she ordered.

I did as she had said. She pulled my tee up.

And nothing. She just stared at my chest and didn't say a word.

“Are you taking something?” Mom asked at last.


“You really don't take anything?” she asked again.

Sometimes she could be unbearable.

“I-DON'T-TAKE-ANY-THING! Ok?” I grew impatient.

“Calm down baby…”

Her ‘calm down' were always the most irritating words. Like it was so simple. I managed to stay silent. Barely.

The interrogation was over for now. Or I thought so.



It was vacation. Nothing special to do. Torrey and I planned to go to the mall tomorrow. With Kelly and her friends Monique and Jenny and another girl Becky and her baby brother Billy.

“Cindy has a doctor's appointment,” Mom said in the morning of the next day before leaving. “At four. You will be with her because I'll be at work still.”

“We were going to go to the mall,” I said, “we planned it a few days ago and…”

“Don't be a wuss. The doctor's office is two blocks away from the mall,” Mom said and I knew there was no place left for negotiation.




We were at the mall. Doing the usual things, just this time with Cindy. Torrey and I went to the arcade. With baby Bill in tow. Well, not so very baby. Bill was eleven. Cindy was with the other girls. Then we joined the girls while they were window shopping. In one of the stores, there was a clearance sale of tops. Not tees but rather warm things like hoodies and sweaters. The girls raided the store. We were with them. They changed and showed us their choices and asked our opinion. I got tired. Then Torrey. And then Bill.

Then I noticed the clock on the wall showing 03:25. I had to leave with Cindy.



I didn't like doctor visits. Because it was usually longer than other kids said about their doctor visits. Because the doctor, Rachel King, was Mom's friend from high school. Mrs. King was the owner of the clinic where she worked. It was the reason simple tests took so long. Because Mrs. King was thorough. When I was a kid those visits to the doctor were okay.

Then two years ago, before high school, I was there with mom. It was the most embarrassing experience in my life. I was naked. Not completely naked but in a hospital gown that covers only your chest. Then Mom and Doc stared at my equipment and nodded their heads while smiling knowingly. Then Doc fondled my balls. Mom said afterward it was called palpation.

I wasn't eager to visit Dr. King again.

“Miller to see Dr. King,” I said at the reception stand. The receptionist was their nurse with the name tag Veronica. The older one. Really old. Like granny old. I remembered her from my previous visits. She checked her records. Then she glared at Cindy and then she looked me up and down squinting her eyes.

“Your appointment says Dr. Levi. Ten minutes,” she said, and after a while she added, “Thirteen with a girl.”

Nonsense! I was sixteen, not thirteen.

Ten minutes later we were already in an examination room with Dr. Levi. I did no talking. The doctor knew what to do. I was about to leave. I didn't want to be present at Cindy's tests.

I had a door knob already in my hand, when Dr. Levi said, “Our nurse thinks you are pregnant. And she is an expert.”

I turned around and the doctor was staring at me.

“Don't look at me!” I exclaimed. “I'm Cindy's brother, not her boyfriend. And besides, she's only twelve.”

“Veronica, our nurse, says YOU are pregnant,” Doc announced looking me in the eyes.

“What!? Nonsense! I'm a boy!”

“Ricky is a boy,” Cindy confirmed my words.

Doc was still staring at me.

“Ask Dr. King. She knows me and my mom.”

“Unbelievable,” Doc mumbled. “Wait in the lobby since I'm busy with your sister if you don't want to be present.”

“I don't want to,” I confirmed. “I'm not a pervert to look as you prod my sis.”



I wasn't used to people talking about me. Or my parents talking about me. Because my rents had Cindy, their princess. I was… I just was. A result of their Prom night. I couldn't say I was not loved. It was more like I was ignored. No one of them were at my games. Cindy too was rather ignoring me as well.

Then it was a complete surprise when during dinner the same day Cindy suddenly said, “Doc thinks Ricky's pregnant.”

“Nonsense!” dad blurted.

“I'll call Rachel,” Mom said.

“I'd like it,” Cindy announced, “I would be the only aunt among my friends.”

They were talking about me as if I wasn't present here.

I had to be at mom's side when she called her friend Rachel. Mom found out that her friend was on vacation and would be back after a month.

Thank God, I thought to myself. After a month, they all will forget about what that other doctor said and I'll be left in peace.



I usually don't complain when it rains. But why does it have to rain during summer break? Cindy was now at summer camp. I wasn't. Because it was too expensive to have both kids at summer camp. And besides I wasn't a kid anymore. Dad's words.

Mom and Dad were in Europe for their vacation. Visiting the most famous wineries of France. They didn't need kids there. So I was alone at home.

I was literally at home because it was raining and I didn't want to get soaked while going to Torrey's home. He couldn't get to my place because he was with Kelly and Kelly had her friends over.

The only thing I could do was to read books assigned to the summer reading plan. When you do something boring all possible inconveniences start, like nausea. Or heartburn. Or swelling. And you can't find a place and position to stay comfortable in.


That was the worst summer break ever. I felt like a wreck. The weather was extremely bad.

I managed to get a hernia. Torrey said it was the hernia. He said his uncle had once it and he looked like he was pregnant. It didn't hurt but was uncomfortable. Exactly like me. I had to sit to pee because my thingy was under that hernia and while standing, I couldn't get it in my hand. So I sat.

Overall, I was better. The nausea and fatigue were gone. I was almost back to normal. Only that damned hernia… I had constipation because of it. There was kind of bubbling in my tummy but it didn't help the constipation.

Mom had called a few times and I'd said I had a hernia and she said to wait for their return to go to Rachel if it didn't hurt. It didn't. I waited.


Cindy returned from her summer camp before mom and dad were home. She was excited. And she did all those things I hated. Like chatting non-stop and being happy when I was miserable.

My hernia got worse with every day but mom insisted that I wait for her return. It didn't hurt but was heavy. Like all the fat had drained there.

Rents were home at last and mom got an appointment with her friend Dr. King for me. The day was wonderful just to be outside of the doctor's office.

At the reception, Mom was chatting with Dr. King. I eavesdropped on Mom saying my chest had changed. How could she know when she had looked at me more than a month ago? Mom said that my nipples were big and there was some ore-oil thing even bigger and she thought I was taking something though I denied it. It took her almost fifteen minutes to say it. Y'know like moms are talking – twenty sentences to say one phrase.

“Undress,” doc ordered after we got into her office.

“Completely?” I asked.

“Yes, completely,” she confirmed unfolding the screen to give me some privacy. I didn't understand why I needed it because I had to stay naked anyway. Because there was no hospital gown.

Then the hand from behind the screen appeared with something folded in it.

“Put it on,” doc said.

It was one of those paper-like hospital gowns. I put it on and Doc folded the screen. Then she unceremoniously raised the hem of the gown and started examining my chest. She measured nipples and dark areas around them with tape. Fondled them. Sorry, palpated. Ah, yeah… She sighed and shook her head with every move.

Then, like two years ago, she looked down at where my equipment used to be. Lately, I couldn't find it. It was probably under the folds of hernia.

“I don't see what I've expected to see,” she said to Mom.

“It's under the hernia folds,” I said.

“Where do you see hernia?” Doc asked impatiently.

“Here,” I pointed at my belly.

“Believe me, it's not,” Doc said.

“I need your urine for a test,” she said giving me a cup.

Mom and Doc left the room giving me some privacy. It wasn't a big deal to pee lately. I had a strange feeling I wanted to pee constantly and I used the bathroom whenever there was an occasion.

Mom and Doc were back. Mrs. King took my urine and immersed a strip of paper in it.

“Damn!” she whispered after a while. Then she added, “I need your blood for a test.”

When we waited for the nurse to come, she whispered into Mom's ear, “Let's pray it's an old-fashioned testicular cancer.” I didn't have to hear it but I heard it.

The nurse was the same nurse, Veronica, from the waiting room.

She took my blood and then turned to the mom before leaving, “It's not what you think, grandmother.”

“What!” both Mom and Doc gasped.

“I can't be wrong,” the nurse said, “Two months ago it was week thirteen or twelve with a girl. I had said it already hadn't I? Now it's the middle of the second trimester. Don't you see it?” she asked Dr. King.

“What?” I wasn't sure I understood what she was talking about.

“Nurse Veronica suggests you are pregnant,” doc simply stated.

“I'm a boy!” I protested.

“We will run an ultrasound test,” doc said.

I was led to an adjacent room and laid down on a table. My belly was smeared with a cold goo and Doc moved around it with some handheld device. Doc confirmed I was pregnant. I did what every normal boy would do in such a situation – I fainted.

August (still the same August)

I woke up in a hospital bed. Not the same bed I was laid on for the ultrasound. It was a regular bed. And I was covered with a blanket. My left hand was attached to an IV. On my right, I saw Mom sitting in a chair and reading some papers. She didn't look at me.

Dr. King came into the room.

“Let's go right to the matter!” Dr. King started. “A. You are pregnant. The fetus is a healthy twelve-inch female twenty-six weeks old. B. Your genitals are almost gone. I say almost because your penis is transforming into a clitoris and the urethra opening has formed. Your scrotum is transforming into labia. C. You don't have a vaginal opening. Yet. It's unclear how you got pregnant. D. I've ordered karyotype tests but they will be in ten days.”

“So?” Mom said as if waiting for my input or some suggestions. As if it was the most normal thing for her son to get pregnant.

“What next?” she turned to Dr. King.

“It's for you both to decide, Trish,” Doc replied. Trish is mom's name, short of Patricia. “I see only two outcomes. First. You wait until the end of the pregnancy. Then things go as usual – labor or C-section and you are a grandmother from then on. The second way is you go for abortion because of abnormality. This means Ricky most probably will never have his own kids in the future.”

The pause followed. Some would say pregnant pause but I didn't think it was appropriate in my situation. I tried to imagine twelve inches. It was more than a span. She had to be like a regular human just a minuscule one. Then I thought that twelve inches is…

“We are opting for abortion,” Mom interrupted the trail of my thoughts. “This way we'll be back to normalcy at the start of the new school year.”

“Will you force her premature birth?” I asked.

“Abortion isn't the birth,” doc said, “it doesn't provide for the survival of the fetus.”

“You mean you'll kill Emma?” I inquired.

“Who's Emma?” both doc and mom asked.

“My daughter,” when I said the word daughter, I felt myself enlightened.

“Why Emma?” Doc asked.

“The name just popped into my head. I guess she wants me to name her Emma.”

“Emma or not but the fetus doesn't survive abortion,” doc said.

“You'll kill her! I don't agree. Never!”

“Ricky… Baby,” mom started, “I see you don't understand you have no say here. You are a minor and I'm the only one solely responsible for making decisions. And my decision is abortion.”

“It will never be like before,” the doctor stated.

“I know,” Mom agreed, “but with numerous trannies and other freaks around, Ricky's being almost a female will go unnoticed. In contrary to a freak boy getting pregnant and having a baby.”

“We would provide full privacy,” Dr. King said.

“Are you suggesting we have to opt for the birth?” Mom almost shouted.

“I say that mother no matter how old she is, always has a say,” Doc said calmly.

“Ricky is minor!”

“Ricky is sixteen. Ricky is with a child, not you!”

“Say what you want! My last word is abortion,” Mom snapped out.

“Your move?” doc turned to me.

“I'll go to the end. I'll raise my daughter,” I said trying to sound reasonable.

“Ok!” mom hissed. “I disown you at this moment. You aren't my kid anymore. You don't have a home to come back. I will not pay for your stay in this clinic either. DO-AS-YOU-WANT!”

Mom stomped out of the room slamming the door.

I have to admit, I'm not the smartest. But even I understood that from that moment on I was a beggar and homeless. Yes, and pregnant.

“Don't worry,” Doctor King consoled me. “It's my clinic and you will stay here as long as it takes.”

I didn't worry. I was terrified. Terrified of what I'd have to go through and how I'd have to survive.

I was given sedatives and I was left in the clinic. For observation. As if there was something to observe.



The sedatives I was given were not sedatives that would make me drowsy. I didn't panic as I did before but I was fully awake now.

I was thinking. About why me. I was a boy. When a girl and a boy are in the act the girl gets pregnant, sometimes. Not the boy. If there is no protection, of course. There was no protection. Angela said it wasn't my business. Apparently, it was. Because I got pregnant and not her.

Then again… Maybe Angela had nothing to do with my pregnancy because she's a girl. She couldn't impregnate anybody. Even if she wanted.

Then I thought about what I would do now. Even if Dr. King said I could stay in the clinic, I couldn't stay here forever. I had to leave and go somewhere. Then I had to find where to live. Friends… I had only one friend – Torrey. Others barely knew I existed. Basketball team? We weren't so close as cheerleaders or football players were. Another team will be formed again in October for another season and the guard position will be filled with someone else. Guards aren't key players like center forwards.

What to do? What to do!? I was ready for a new panic attack when I heard some noise outside the room. It was Cindy. She yanked the door open and stormed into the room. A moment later I was embraced in a bear hug.

“Riiickyyy…” she squeaked me in the ear. Then she started to cry. I wasn't sure if it was good or bad. I didn't know where it was leading.

“I'm so happy for you,” she said after she calmed at last.

“There is nothing to be happy about,” I replied, “I'm homeless.”

“You're not,” said Dad from the doorway. I didn't notice how and when he entered the room.

“Mom says I am,” I answered. It was strange that his words were against Mom's words.

“Mom needs some time to sort out her thoughts and feelings.”

“Does it mean…?”

“She needs time,” Dad repeated. “She'll stay at Aunt Helga's place. Temporally.”

“Can I go home then?”

“No. Doctor King says she needs to run some tests and she wants you here. But…”

“What but?”

“But we'll come every day,” Dad said.

“I'll stay with Ricky for a while, ok, daddy?” Cindy asked. Or begged.

“You may stay if she is okay with it,” Dad confirmed.

“Who ‘she'?” I asked.

“You,” Dad said, “my granddaughter's mom has to be she. Or do you think otherwise?”

She… The same as Cindy or Mom or Torrey's sis Kelly? “She” is alien. Always was.

Dad left. Cindy stayed. Dr. King came to say she was leaving till tomorrow morning. Then another nurse came and asked if I would like some cereal with yogurt.

She reminded me. I was starving. But not cereal. Pah!

“Don't laugh, but the only thing I can think now about is ice cream with pickles.”

“Ok,” she said with a serious look and without even a hint of smirk. “You are not the first pregnant girl to want pickles with ice cream. The child makes mom's tastes weird. Call your daddy, he'll bring it to you.”

Nurse left. Cindy called Dad. I stared at her and tried to sort things out. In one day, I became pregnant and then the same day, I became female. I didn't know what was more staggering.

“I can't be Ricky. It's boy's name,” I said to no one in particular but Cindy was the only one who heard me. She's twelve, I couldn't address my problems to her. It was all so wrong…

“Why not,” Cindy answered, “I've checked on the internet. The same year as you three girls were named Ricky. You will be the fourth one. Stay Ricky, I love that name.”

“Huh… Love that name… I thought you ignored me.”

“I love you and you ignore me.”


“Really. You were a boy and you didn't notice. Boys are like that. You'll change now.”

Dad came with ice cream. I didn't want it anymore. The pickles were ok. Not enough I guessed but ok.



Maybe it was a dream. Nothing happened. I was dreaming. Or wasn't I? In one day suddenly I became everything I wasn't before. Like I was a girl. Well… I was pregnant, so I wasn't a girl anymore. Wrong word again. Anymore. I never was a girl before. I was now a young woman. Without a proper childhood. Like dolls and hopscotch and tea parties. Maybe I was just a tomboy and didn't know it.

I didn't know what it was to be a young girl. How will I raise my daughter? The new panic attack was coming. I was in the hospital room. Alone. It was night already. The clock on the wall was showing 2:40. The light was dimmed.

The nagging thought that I would ruin everything didn't leave my mind. My daughter's life, my parents' life, Cindy's life. Everything. I wasn't worthy to become a mother. I wasn't worth living. The only thing stopping me from taking my own life was my unborn daughter. But it didn't stop the flow of tears. I and everything with me was so wrong…

Nurses probably have some sixth sense. I started crying and the nurse entered the room. She said nothing. Just sat down at my side and kept my hand in hers. It helped. I calmed down. The nurse patted my back and left the room.


Nurse Veronica, the first person who had said I was pregnant was right about the pregnancy and the child's gender but not about pregnancy week, meaning how far along I was. But who would blame her? Diagnosing pregnant boys isn't an everyday experience. Then, when she said I was pregnant, I was still a boy. I had my boy parts and I didn't have to sit to take a leak.

It was September already. Dr King said delivery was due the last week of November. I had four months. My body had four months. As I'd said, pregnant boys aren't very common. Dr. King didn't know how my body would react to the fetus's development, or how it would change. So after some discussion with Dad, they decided to switch to homeschooling.

I had to come for tests often and I had to stay for a day or two in the hospital under observation. Homeschooling was probably the best solution. Dad found a couple of college students who would help me.

My friends… Well, my only friend, Torrey, probably worried about me. I simply disappeared one day and then I didn't come to school. He probably had called me n times. But I left my phone in Mom's car. My mom wasn't at home. Dad and Cindy didn't say where I was or what happened to me. Until I came home at last.

Torrey came over the same day. He was coming every day but I wasn't present. Dad and Cindy didn't say anything. They didn't know what to say.

“You're getting bigger,” he stated looking me up and down.

“It's because of Emma,” I answered.

“Who's Emma?”

“My daughter,” I said.

“Oh! Dude… You ARE the father! Congratulations! Who's the mother?”

“I AM.”

“Huh… Don't shit me…”

“Don't swear in Emma's presence.”

“Where is she?” Torrey inquired.

“Here,” I replied pointing at my belly.

“No way… Crap…” he said raising his hands, “Sorry, I don't mean… HOW?”

“I'm pregnant.”

“You are WHAT? You're the boy… You can't…”

“It's like that. Just so…” I explained.

“It can't be… Shit… Sorry… I'll be back…” Torrey mumbled and ran out of the room.

I heard him screaming in the backyard. A moment later he was back.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah…” he said and then he repeated himself, “It can't be…”

“I know,” I agreed with him, “but it is. And I have to live with it now.”

“You are the boy… HOW?”

“I'm not anymore. It's not my choice. My body has adjusted to the pregnancy,” I replied.

“I can't even imagine how you survive this. I'd go crazy if I were you,” he said shaking his head.

“I thought the same, but I can't allow myself this luxury. I have to be here for Emma.”

Torrey promised to keep my pregnancy secret. I trusted him. He was a man of his word.


Heartburn was back. And not only it. Cramped legs for example and always in the night.

I was attending a special gym for special exercises. Like yoga and Pilates. I didn't even know they existed before my pregnancy.

Emma started moving and I was excited. Then I started to panic when she stayed still for long. Dr. King said it was normal. That's for Emma to move, be still, and for me to panic.


… Mom was back. Not so abruptly. Gradually. First Aunt Helga had called. Not like that, sorry. Aunt Helga had called immediately after Mom had left. She talked with Dad. Or with me if Dad was at work. She was rather like a friend. She always was like that. Like friend I mean. She said that Mom was sorry for what she had said. Later Mom talked with Dad and then with me.

Mom asked if I had forgiven her. I said yes but I still remembered every word she had said. And it did hurt.

On the other hand, I was happy she was back. Not only because she was the only one who knew what it was to be pregnant. I was relieved our family was complete again. I felt kinda of guilty when Mom left. Sure, it was her fault. But everything started with me.


Tits. They reminded me about themselves the last month of pregnancy. For the whole pregnancy, they didn't disturb me. They were rather on the smallish side. Well, they were nonexistent, only puffy nipples and those things mom called ore oil were bigger. They still weren't big but their presence was undeniable. And suddenly they started leaking. Like milk. But it wasn't milk. Dr. King said some words but I forgot them.

It was a sign that labor was nearing.

“Not long now,” mom said.

“How much not long?” I asked.

“Three to four weeks,” Dr King explained.

“That long!” I exclaimed.

I was growing impatient. I couldn't concentrate. I had to do my homework but my thoughts were somewhere else. I was tired, frustrated, and angry. Especially when someone repeated Mom's words ‘Not long now'.

Mom had taught me how to knit. I started to knit things for Emma. Being productive and seeing the results of my work helped me. Cindy wanted to knit too and I helped her to learn. We spent a lot of time together. She abandoned her usual activities to be with me. Not only Cindy. Torrey's sis Kelly too. Sometimes alone, sometimes with her friends Jenny and Monique. Then some of Cindy's friends were coming.

Girls were excited to have someone near their age pregnant. They touched my belly to feel Emma moving and kicking. Sometimes we listened to classical music. Or one of the girls was reading the book aloud. Such as Winnie-the-Pooh.

Torrey was still coming around but not as often as before. We suddenly didn't have many common interests. He felt uneasy around me. And vice versa. I couldn't talk with him about things that worried me, about my concerns and fears. He didn't touch me to feel Emma moving. He almost fainted when he saw my belly moving while Emma was kicking hard.

The girls stopped coming after a week or so. I was left with Cindy. Only Kelly was here once in a while. Sure Mom here was too. But she was working and was at home only after work or when really needed. The same as Dad.

It was time for end-term tests at the School district. They probably wanted to be sure I didn't fool around. So Dad helped me get to Biddeford Regional Center of Tech for tests. It's on the same street as my high school. I had midterm tests at the same place. The result was the same as the previous time, B and C. In my old life, it would be considered as ‘It can't be worse'. Now it was okay both for Mom and Dad.

The time for Emma was due but nothing changed. It was a sure thing that the delivery was OVER due.


I was in the clinic again. Dr. King's clinic. She knew what I was and who I was. And she was okay with it. As if it was the most natural thing for boys to be pregnant and then develop into their female version during pregnancy.

“Every pregnancy and every labor is like a miracle. No magic, just an ordinary miracle. I am here to help and assist, not explain why,” she used to say.

I had contractions and pain in my lower back. Then, suddenly, the second day I felt a trickle. And then Dr. King suddenly announced, “We will go for a C-section because your pelvic floor is too narrow for delivery.”

“You mean surgery?” I asked.

“Yes. Your baby is ready…”

“Emma,” I corrected her. I never used baby, fetus, or similar words for Emma. I called her by name. And I talked with her using her name.

“Well, Emma is ready.”

I didn't remember much. To tell the truth, I didn't remember anything.




So it wasn't how I had expected it to be and look. I didn't act nice. Mom and Dr King said later many women did the same thing. Ok. Agree… Anyway, I don't want to talk about how it was for me.

We were home after the week in hospital. We – Emma and I.

I'll keep it short. Dad offered to do so. He said mom, after the birth of me and then of Cindy, posted thousands of pics of me and Cindy on Facebook. She didn't allow anyone to delete a single one of those photos because each of them was her little miracle. Then she was frustrated because people liked the first pic and ignored all the others.

“Don't be like your mom,” Dad said.

I wasn't. I didn't have a Facebook account. I was kinda of asocial.

My room was over the garage. Not all the space over it but almost half of it. Now it was expanded to make a place for Emma. And its floor was additionally insulated, before it got cold in winter. But I, as a boy, had to toughen up so it was okay. It wasn't okay now and Dad added insulation. It lowered the ceiling because of the raised floor from eight feet before to almost seven feet now. I was too short to feel the difference. But it was definitely warmer now.

Emma was small. Like really small. Five pounds nine, when she was born. She was gaining weight but not as fast as I would like. She had my milk and my tits remained on the smallish side. Dr. King said Emma and I were okay and to stop worrying. It didn't help. I worried anyway.

I expected that now, after Emma's birth, I would change back into the boy. Didn't happen. I got my first period instead a week between Christmas and New Year.

January and the life goes on

Emma was one month old now. She's such a little angel. We had a sort of celebration. Uncle Barney and Aunt Helga visited. They said Emma would help me outgrow my tomboy phase. We'll see…

I think that I will have to wait until it is spring again before I bring up some of the questions I still need to get answers for with Dr. King. Like did she figure out who Emma's father is. Or is that who her mother is because I was a boy when I got pregnant. But if I was a boy back then, who is Emma's real mother. Thinking about this still makes my head hurt. Then I cuddle with Emma and I stop worrying about it.

Sometimes, I wonder if anything strange happened to Angela. Like did she turn into a guy at the same time I turned into a girl. I wonder if I can get child support from her. But that means that she or he might want to take Emma from me. Or maybe Dad and Mom would insist that Angela, or maybe it's Andrew now, would have to marry me and make an honest woman out of me. As if I need that.

The rents have decided that I can go back to regular high school in the fall, at least on a part time schedule of some sort. They think that being around other girls will be good for me. They must be talking to Uncle Barney and Aunt Helga.

I will have at least one friend in school though. Now that I do not look like a swallowed a parade balloon, Torrey has been visiting again. He apologized for not wanting to be around right before I was due to pop. It sounds like he was confused about things and scared at the same time. I don't think it was because he thought that I had some disease that might turn him into a girl. I think that it might be because he did not know what to say to a friend that used to be a boy but had turned into a pregnant girl.

I did give him one important piece of advice though. He should stay away from Angela Cassidy. He said that would not be a problem. I guess Angela and her family moved away last year.

The subject of school got me thinking about some things though. I won't be trying out for the cheerleading squad, because Emma needs me. But prom will be coming up. Will someone ask me to be their date or should I plan on going alone? Maybe I should plan on staying home though. With my luck, Emma could end up with a little brother or sister. For all I know, I could catch pregnancy like some people catch cold.



The End



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Very Interesting Story

jengrl's picture

Although, we know the moment it happened to Ricky , I think it would have been interesting to find out where and what gave Angela the power to do what she did and what happened to her afterward? She told Ricky that he would have more to worry about than not using protection, so she knew what would happen . I think the questions I have are: Is Angela some kind of witch?

What was her motive for doing it to Ricky?

Was Ricky the only one?

What happened to her after she left town?

That would be an interesting foundation for a backstory,


Do we know ...

That Angela was actually human? Could have been an extra-terrestrial entity of some kind.

- Leona

Agree with jengrl

Dee Sylvan's picture

It would be interesting to know why Ricky was chosen. We assume it was bc he was the hero of the day but that doesn't really explain turning him into a pregnant woman. Has this happened before with Angela? Has she also given this gift/miracle to anyone else? Where can I sign up? :DD



Rikki don't lose that number...