By FoxFaceStories

A kid wishes for his stepdad and bio dad to get along better, a genie forces them into a couple. And why not add a few siblings along the way?

Original Mini-Story Here

Extension: My Dads Get Along Better Now

Viewpoint 1: Dustin

I still feel a little bad about this, especially since my stepmom is pregnant again. I’m sixteen now, but at the time it all went down I was only five years old. Five. That’s the thing you have to remember about this story, because five year-olds don’t have a full understanding of every situation.

What you have to understand about my story is that my Dad is head over heels in love with my Stepmom. Really, totally in love. Utterly gaga. There's a reason I've got seven younger siblings, all of whom are just awesome. They can't help themselves. And my Stepmom - Selina - is just the best. She's kind, witty, makes awesome meals and takes me on great trips, and at the end of the day she's as much of a mom as my actual Mom is. She really cares for me, and my Dad, and she's been a central part of healing the rift on both sides of my family. 

The only problem is that Selina used to be Samuel, and Samuel was my Stepdad.

It all started when I was four. I didn't really understand it at the time, but Mom and Dad weren't happy with one another, and so they split apart. It tore my world apart. How could two people who loved and cared for me, their only son, not also have that same love for each other? I didn't know how to handle it, and while they tried to be as amicable as possible and share me week to week, it crushed my little soul. I just couldn't understand it.

Things got worse when Mom got a new boyfriend, Samuel. Looking back, I realise he wasn't a bad man at all, quite the opposite, but it was still confusing to have to have a new father-figure in my life, and see him as an authority, and try to get along with him. He was harder to get along with than Dad, and he was so much more serious. Apparently, Mom loved him precisely because he was responsible. He was successful, and ambitious, and didn't stumble through life like Dad. But I didn't have that context, which made it all the harder when Samuel and Harold - my Dad - clashed. It got more and more constant, particularly after Samuel became my official Stepdad, and this was despite Mom wanting them to stay civil. Samuel always got on Harold's case to be more responsible, to find a better job, and to get out of his rut (and looking back, Dad was definitely feeling the squeeze). But Harold hated having Mom's new man pushing in on his turf, and so he pushed back. It really sucked for me, because I was trying to get along with Samuel, and we were having our moments, but every time my two dads were in the same place, they fought.

And then it all changed when I found that strange shell on the beach. We were on a family trip with Samuel and my Mom, and there was this cool conch shell. I had run down the beach a little, and they were chilling on the sand, keeping me roughly in view. But Dad was also there, since Mom wanted them to try and get along for a whole family trip, and once more an argument was starting. I turned away and focused on my find. When I blew into the conch shell, something amazing happened: a sort of silvery mermaid, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, emerged from it. No one else reacted to the sight, it was like she was invisible to anyone but me. But I was entranced.

"Well done, young one," she said in a strange voice, "you have found a Genie of the Sea. Few have the pure heart to find one such as me, and so I shall grant you three wishes."

"Really?" the then-five year old me asked. "Three whole wishes?"

I couldn't believe it.

"Three wishes," she said, smiling. "But word them well, young one, for they cannot be turned back once made. They are forever."

Little, simple, naive me thought and thought, humming and umming and tripping over my words, but the genie had infinite patience. I get the sense still that she wasn't a bad person, even if my wishes ended up causing some mischief. Perhaps she just didn't fully understand humans. Either way, I finally realised what I wanted.

"Okay, so my first wish is that Dad can find a really well-paying job that makes him happy."

"Granted."

"And I also wish he can be married again. I really want Dad and Mom together again, but I know that's wrong because they explain it to me lots, so I just want him to have a wife he loves and who loves me."

"Another selfless wish. Granted."

"And, um, I guess I wish that my Step-Dad and my Dad can get along super well too, like super duper well.”

"This wish will fit well with the previous one. Well done."

I beamed, incredibly happy with myself. The genie flicked her hands, and a silvery light cascaded around me, and then she was gone. I was pleased as punch . . . until I suddenly heard yelling and screaming.

I ran across the beach to see what was happening, only to witness the strangest sight of my life. Samuel's body was twisting and shifting and changing. His height was reduced from around six feet tall to only 5'5 at best. His hips cracked wider, and his shoulders slimmed down. He moaned out something rude while his clothes changed, shrinking as the rest of him shrank too. His dark hair grew out long, and his face became a woman's - a really pretty one's! His chest grew, and though I was just a boy I was still pretty intrigued by boobs it seemed, because I couldn’t look away a he grew a pretty big pair. I later learned they were Triple-D’s. His waist drew in, and his legs became soft and hairless. He was wearing a blue bikini suddenly, and a see-through blouse around his shoulders - her shoulders. A ring suddenly appeared on his hand - a wedding ring, and an engagement one also. The new woman was horrified, and so was Mom and Dad. My jaw dropped, realising that somehow my wishes had done this.

"Oh my God, what's happened to me!?" Samuel cried.

"I have no idea, Selina," Mom said. "I mean, S-Selina. I mean, Selina. Why can't I say your name?"

Dad was equally flabbergasted, but he acted differently. He drew close to Samuel to comfort her, but without meaning to his arms encircled her, and he wrapped her in a loving hug. Samuel - Selina - looked up at my Dad, who was now the taller of the pair.

"I - what's wrong with me - I really need to kiss you now, Harold."

"I feel the same need."

"Please, hurry up. I need to kiss you right now."

"What is happening!?" Mom exclaimed.

But already my Step-Dad and Dad were kissing, and she was pressing her new bikini body against him, placing her soft arms around his neck. 

Now there's no beating around the bush, so I'll say it straight now. Even my five year old self saw it: Samuel had become a very, very good looking woman. Busty, with lovely hips and an hourglass figure, silky brunette hair, cute face, the works. The kind of gal that my Dad went gaga for, and, appropriately given I'm his son, the kind of gal I hope to marry one day too now that I'm a teenager with those kinds of urges. I can't imagine how Samuel/Selina felt at that moment, but there's no doubt in my mind that, with the benefit of hindsight, she was struggling against being really, really into my Dad.

The whole thing took a while to work out. I came clean, and the wishes were decoded until the results were obvious: Dad now worked as a highly-paid contractor in his electrical engineering field, enough to support him and his new wife, and me. He now had a new wife in Selina, and Samuel had been turned into her in order to make the two really 'get along.' The end result was that Samuel was stuck as Selina, and while she knew she was meant to be a man and had all her memories as a man, she was compelled at all times to be Harold's gorgeous housewife, be totally attracted to him, and yes, sleep with him. I'm not going to dwell on that part for obvious reasons, but suffice to say that in the coming years they had to soundproof their room because of their daily, and nightly, 'activities.'

Mom was saddened, of course, and Dad felt very guilty. Selina, as my new Stepmom, continually warred with her feelings, but always she lost. She was simply too into my Dad, and got a hit of dopamine and pleasure when she acted the part of his wife. She was still able to talk about her old life and complain, but only to the three of us who were there when she changed, and no one else. Only we knew who she used to be: as far as the world was concerned, she was a gorgeous woman named Selina who had married Dad on the day Mom had actually married Samuel originally.

It took a while for us all to accept this new reality, Selina most of all. Mom was morose for a bit, but gradually moved on, and she found a new husband two years later that she is still with. Greg is an awesome step-dad, by the way. And while Dad, being the perfect gentleman, did his best to make Selina comfortable, and crack a beer with her on the deck so she could feel like a man at times, it was undeniable that he was happier. He now had a gorgeous wife to share a bed with (gross to think about, but it’s true), and she was a great cook, wonderful company, and . .  well, yeah, the other bits I won't dwell on. 

Selina took a lot longer, for obvious reasons. I can imagine being a woman would be weird. But she never took it out on me. I suspect she literally couldn't, but in truth, it opened my eyes to the fact that Samuel had been a good man, and Selina was now a good woman. She made it known I wasn't to blame, and that she still wanted to be part of my life, and in the months that followed we became a lot closer. She relaxed, no longer governed by ambitiousness and the pursuit of success, and she took me to the zoo, and to the park, and to theme rides and mini-golfing and swimming and playdates and all sorts of stuff. 

And, while she was horrified and nervous initially, she also gave me a younger sibling, and Dad a new child. Birth must have been so strange for her, being compelled to push a baby out when once she couldn't imagine ever doing that, but I could tell when she fed my little brother Ben that she loved him. And the other six babies she's had since have been loved just as much. I’ll say this for my wishes: they were potent! When I wished for Samuel and Dad to get along ‘super duper well’, I guess the super duper part included a lot of spontaneous babymaking. It’s cool. I get to be the awesome older brother to all my little siblings.

Like I said, I still feel guilty. There are times when Selina admits that she wishes she was still a man, and could just be a better Stepdad to me. And it's clear that always feeling compelled to be the cook in the kitchen, and often to be barefoot and pregnant in it also, does occasionally weary her. But the fact of the matter is, my 'Dads' get along a lot better now, and the change is permanent besides. As far as I'm concerned, I've got the best step-mother in the world, and I make sure each day that she knows it.

I know it brightens her day. Hopefully one day it makes her happy that she became my Dad's wife, and my Stepmom. 

Maybe, secretly, and with a little bit of embarrassment, she already is. But who would know?

***

Viewpoint 2: Selina 

It’s hard to believe that it’s been eleven years. I’m thirty nine years old now, which means I was just twenty eight when this all went down. My name was Samuel back then, but that’s a name I haven’t heard applied to me in a long, long time. I can’t even call myself that in the mirror. It’s enough to make a grown man cry, but I’m not a grown man either. There will come a point where I will have spent exactly half my years as a man and the other half as a woman, and the very next day will be the one that tips the scales and means I shall have lived more of my life while female, and I’m sure that will trigger quite the mid-life crisis.

I am getting ahead of myself, however. This story is one that involves magic, and my wife, and my husband, and a stepfather and a stepmother who both turn out to be me. And it also involves Dustin, my imaginative stepson who is growing up to be a fine young man who I am so very, very proud of, even if he is the reason my life was derailed onto another set of tracks entirely.

My name was Samuel Atkins. I was actually a lawyer and yes, I’ve heard all the jokes about what you think of that profession. Suffice to say, I was very good at it. I knew the law like the back of my hand, and I was exceptional at laying out clear, concise legal arguments. I didn’t have a lot of friends, perhaps due to my ambition, but perhaps also due to my general seriousness. I still get a bit brooding from time to time, usually whenever I fall pregnant, which is more than I’d like. I’m getting ahead of myself again. I’ll lay out the facts right now, just like a lawyer, though after spending eleven years as a doting wife and mother of seven children (and stepmother to one more), some sentiment is inevitably going to creep in.

The facts of the case, summarised:

1. I was a twenty-eight year-old male, six-foot-two in height and with dark brown hair, and reasonably attractive looks. I was a lawyer specialising in civil lawsuits for plaintiff clients, and I was very good at it. 

2. At a dinner charity event, I met Deborah Lees, a woman with red hair who I found very attractive, and was similarly ambitious to me. She was a real estate agent, and we got along immediately. I was taken with her, and while I was initially hesitant upon learning that she had a four year-old child she shared custody of with her ex-husband Harold, I decided to give things a shot.

3. Said shot snowballed into my first marriage (technically I am still on my first, see further notes below). Deborah and I fell in love, and the two of us wed just nine months later, having moved in together already by that point.

4. I did my level best to get along with Deborah’s ex-husband and to keep the peace. However, in my estimation he was a lazy, unambitious man who barely managed to stay afloat taking the occasional electrician job. I didn’t approve of his failure to step up for his family, and he detested how serious I was, and thought I had a ‘resting bastard face.’ We argued often.

5. Despite this, I found myself warming to Dustin, Deborah and Harold’s son. He was only four, five when the incident occurred (see below for elaboration). He loved drawing and creating stories, and I did my best to try and play with him because it was important to Deborah, and because he was a pretty good kid. I never imagined having kids, but I could see myself being a solid stepfather to this young boy.

These are the facts leading up to the case in question. The actual incident itself occurred at North Lake Beach, which is about a thirty-five minute drive from Deborah’s residence, which at the time was my residence, too. It was to be a family date, with Harold along so we could all be one blended family. I tried to bite my tongue, but in truth I was quite embarrassed by how well Harold played with Dustin, how he could be silly and ridiculous and not get embarrassed and self-serious in response. As a result, I became quite short with him, making comments about how he clearly had the time to goof off, so why didn’t he have the time to find a proper job? Suffice to say, we got to arguing fairly quickly, and he called me an absolute bore and too career-minded, and even dared to say that Dustin didn’t like me. That last part enraged me, since I had been trying hard even though stepfatherhood didn’t come naturally to me. We nearly came to blows.

This is when the incident happened. My transformation. I consider it rather sardonically as the moment I had a ‘sudden career change and alteration to my life trajectory.’ Lawyer-speak, you understand. What actually happened was right in the middle of the argument, Harold suddenly froze and stared at me in shock.

“What are you staring at?” I demanded of him

“Your face! Your face is changing! Hell, what’s happening to your clothes, Samuel?”

I looked down, only to yelp in shock, because I truly was changing! My clothes were shrinking on my body, and the rest of me was shrinking too. Deborah squealed out loud, and I joined her, but my normally deep voice was rising in pitch by that point. My insides were squirming all about, and my flesh warping and changing right before my eyes. I held up my fingers, only to see my hands shrinking and becoming dainty. Dustin ran back to our group, having been away for several minutes while Harold and I had been arguing, and the poor kid looked at me in shock. I’ll never forget, even if I live a million years, what it felt like to have the body I had been used to for twenty-eight years suddenly and magically change into the form of a highly attractive woman. My shoulders slimmed down. My waist shrank. The bones of my pelvis pushed out, giving me a pair of childbearing hips. I could even feel the central area of my pelvis change, opening up in the middle so that it was a distinctly female pelvis, the kind that can push babies through (seven times, as it would turn out). I cannot even describe this event in clinical detail. I have tried to employ my lawyerly skills more than once to set it down in a clinical manner, but in this, I simply cannot. I remember the feel of my hair growing down my shoulders, of my lips becoming fuller, my face changing shape and losing its stubble. Of my body hair pulling back inside me. Hell, of my penis and balls pulling back inside me. I shrank more and more, and suddenly I felt a twin pair of pressures on my chest right as my clothing shrivelled into a little blue bikini. The top nearly fell off, until vooom! I grew a pair of very large triple-D breasts. I hadn’t even known that DDD was a sizing until that moment, but now I had a large pair of tits that easily outsized those of my wife Deborah, who was a healthy C-cup. I squealed in my new female voice as I looked down, cupping my boobs and observing (and feeling) the jiggle of them, and how I had an impressive line of cleavage when I pressed them together. I was now completely a woman, one with very nice proportions. I didn’t know it yet, but they were my proportions for life.

"Oh my God, what's happened to me!?" I remember crying.

"I have no idea, Selina," Deborah told me, and the way she said my new name so easily sent a chill down my core. "I mean, S-Selina. I mean, Selina. Why can't I say your name?"

I didn’t know why, only that I was thinking of myself as Selina too. I knew my name was Samuel, but trying to think that made my mind all sort of muddled. I was Selina. Somehow, I was Selina Atkins. No, I was Selina Gardner . . . a woman with the same last name as Harold, for some reason. I clutched my body in fear, trying to keep myself centred. Harold drew close to me, clearly concerned, but something strange and magnetic happened to us. We were pulled together, his arms encircling around my much smaller body. He seemed so much bigger now, and so protective. I was wrapped in a loving hug and it soothed me. I recall scowling at this, trying to maintain my broody self and think of a solution, but I couldn’t stop pressing myself against him (even my rear, which is very well-proportioned, was something I pressed up against him. I confess that even at that very moment I felt an inner warmth and excitement at pressing my ass against his crotch. I’m much more used to being okay with that now).

It was then that I looked up at Harold, my breathing still panicked, my new tits rising and falling with each breath like buoys floating on the waves. They were heavy, yet pert and round, and I could feel Harold’s gaze upon them, and then upon my pretty eyes.

"I - what's wrong with me? - I really need to kiss you now, Harold."

Those were the words I said. I felt such a strong need to be not just embraced by him, but to have my lips on his.

"I feel the same need,” he told me, but we both held out as long as we could. Deborah looked on in shock. I don’t remember what she was saying, if anything at all.

"Please, hurry up,” I finally begged in my new female voice. “I need to kiss you right now."

"What is happening!?" Deborah finally exclaimed.

I had no idea. But it was too late. Harold and I were already kissing, and I actually turned and pressed my bikini-clad body against him, my arms around his neck. It is embarrassing for a former man’s man like myself to admit, especially when I was a handsome hotshot lawyer, but I even raised up one dainty leg in a deeply feminine manner, all while savouring his lips upon mine, and the sensation of my large breasts against his muscles. 

I apologise if this account has gotten too steamy. This memory is very vivid in my mind, so please think of this as a piece of testimony, and in such matters, emotion and even matters of sexual arousal can be crucial pieces of evidence. My point in writing this recollection is to establish that I was immediately aroused by Harold, finding myself drawn to him and even compelled to kiss him passionately, and my new unasked-for body delighted in the feel of him. I will also admit that simply writing this down still excites me. It’s been eleven years, and it feels as if this memory is as arousing as it is traumatic. Suffice to say, I am still processing it, but the passion I felt then is something I have embraced many times since.

But I digress. We were all in a panic. I now had a wedding ring and sparkling engagement ring (sapphire, by the way. Yes, I have become quite a fan of jewellery now that I am a stylish and good looking woman). My poor wife was panicking, trying to call the police, but then she noticed that her background picture no longer showed the two of us at our wedding, but instead her as my bridesmaid . . . for my marriage to Harold. We started arguing, and despite the fact that Harold and I started getting into it again over whose fault this was, I still clung to him and he kept his arm around my thin waist.

It was only when poor little Dustin raised his voice and started crying that we all stopped and rushed to comfort the boy. I felt an attachment to him that was far greater than before, and so I was there, trying to ignore that I was a woman in a blue bikini and see-through blouse. 

“It’s my fault!” he cried. “I think it’s m-my fault! I made wishes, but they ended up all weird! I’m sorry!”

We comforted him. How could we not? Perhaps the male me would have been more angry, with more testosterone in his system (I still snark that I had more than Harold before I was pumped full of estrogen), but I felt such a strange maternal instinct to comfort the boy, especially because he was Harold’s. Once he was calm, Dustin explained everything. It was a series of events that a pragmatic lawyer such as myself might never have believed: he had found an odd seashell, and as he held it, he accidentally summoned a sea genie right before him. She told him that he was innocent and pure, and so could have three wishes. Again, I shall state the facts of the case as they pertain to his wishes:

"My first wish is that Dad can find a really well-paying job that makes him happy."

"My second wish is for him to be married again. I really want Dad and Mom together again, but I know that's wrong because they explain it to me lots, so I just want him to have a wife he loves and who loves me."

"My third wish is for my Stepdad and my Dad to get along super well too, like super duper well.”

Good wishes for a child, but any lawyer like myself can find the loopholes in them. To the sea genie’s credit, she gave Harold a great job in electrical engineering, one that pays him very well (and now helps pay for our whole family, more on that to follow). But the second and third wishes were mingled together by the sea genie, and so Harold did end up married to someone who loves him . . . me. I was now transformed into his wife, and only myself, Harold, Deborah, and Dustin knew I had ever been a man. I had become Selina Gardner, Harold’s gorgeous wife, all because of a child’s wish to a magical sea entity.

This wasn’t the sort of thing I could bring a lawsuit forward on, especially since something about the magic made me act like a totally devoted wife and loving partner to Harold. It was truly humiliating at first: I couldn’t resist him, and not sleeping at his house, in his bed, it was all wrong. I couldn’t view Deborah as my wife anymore, no matter how much I loved her. Now I loved her as a friend, and a friend only. I found myself dressing in cute dresses, even quite a few that showed off my large breasts, all because it pleased Harold, and of course I had a desperate need to have sexual intercourse with him. This was clearly part of the wish loophole abuse; part of this new contract to which I was a party affected but not a signatory party meant that I would participate in sexual congress with my new husband on a regular basis of at least twice a day, and often more.

Oh, to hell with all my old lawyerisms, it’s not like Dustin or any of my other children will read this. Harold and I fucked and we fucked hard. I couldn’t resist him. I wanted to ride him, so I did. I wanted his big prick in me as he bent me over the kitchen counter late at night, so we did. I wanted him to squeeze my big, perfect breasts and make love to me, until finally I cried out in my new female voice while he ejaculated into my incredibly wet pussy.

God, even now, eleven years on, just writing it down makes me all flustered.

Harold felt guilty, of course. I’m so glad he did. I don’t think I would have truly fallen in love with him if he hadn’t. He tried to resist me, but the magic went both ways. It wasn’t just sex either (as frequent and passionate as that was). It was also how we told each other how much we loved one another, and how he squeezed my butt playfully when I walked past, or how I felt a desire to cook for him, and Dustin too when it was our turn with him. I did my best to support him, to be there to hear his frustrations after work, and he in turn was endlessly patient with all my annoyed ramblings about having to wear bras, going through periods (not that I’ve experienced all that many, come to think of it - see below), and generally being a dutiful wife and stepmom to Dustin. I loved the boy more than ever, but I didn’t want to be his stepmother!

Of course, things settled. They had to. The thing about trying cases is that even when they don’t go your way, you have a stiff drink, you put your finances in order, and you move on. I’ve seen clients do it, I’ve seen lawyers do it, and as Selina Gardner, housewife and stepmom, I had to do it. I had to be strong for myself, for my new husband, and perhaps most of all for little Dustin, who felt so terribly guilty.

“This is not your fault, okay?” I told him. “I was your stepdad, and now I’m your stepmom. Things have changed a lot for me, but I’m adapting and getting better at it. Look, I even knew how to put on my dress and jewellery properly, isn’t that neat?”

“Are you happy though, Selina?”

His question was a piercing one. I’d asked many a question like that to a witness on the stand and made them crumble, and now Dustin had done the same for me. I gripped that boy in a strong embrace and held him against me.

“I am,” I said. “And when I’m not, I know I will be. And hey, your father and I do get along better now, don’t we?”

At that, we both had to have a laugh. I probably chuckled even harder. He was too young to know, but I was boning his dad like there was no tomorrow.

Which was how baby number one arrived just thirteen months after being turned into a woman. And then baby number two just fourteen months after that. And so on, and so forth. ‘Et al’, to use the Latin lawyer speak. Used for when the number of clients exceeds the limit of characters on documentation. Well, I went on to have a lot of ‘clients’ in the last eleven years, if by clients I mean babies that Harold put into me.

Suffice to say, my career trajectory did not have me becoming a highly paid partner in a legal firm, complete with stock options. Instead, I’m the wife of my ex-wife’s ex-husband, and a housewife at that. I was barely able to form words when that first pregnancy test came back positive. Me, Samuel Atkins, pregnant. Harold did his best to comfort me, but I still couldn’t help myself thanks to the way the sea genie had granted Dustin’s wishes. I held him and kissed him passionately.

“We’re going to have a baby. Oh, Harold, I’m having your baby. We’re finally making our little family bigger. God, this is so wrong. I need to fight this, but I can’t. The wishes are making me want to keep this baby and give you another baby, honey.”

“I know, darling,” he told me. “It’s not your fault. I promise, I’ll be the best husband possible for you. I know this is all strange, but I won’t be the slacker that I was. I’ll do everything I can, and I’ll even lose this damn beer weight. After all, the only one growing a big belly should be you, right?”

Those jokes. Those ridiculous jokes. I hated them even as a woman, but in the years since I’ve grown to love them, just as much as I’ve grown to love our ever-growing family. I had hoped that I would only fall pregnant with one child. I considered this just another contract; an agreement foisted upon me by a higher-up authority - a magical court, if you will - that ensured I would show my newfound love for Harold by giving him one child. It was quite the ordeal already to go through hormonal upsets, fatigue, food cravings, and morning sickness, let alone when I was so big and round I needed to beg my husband for help, with breasts sore as they became ready to make milk (a prodigious amount, as it turned out). I still cooked for my husband and acted like his perfect wife, and I was an adoring stepmother to Dustin, who had come to love spending time with me, and me with him. Birth was another great ordeal; I was in labour for eleven hours, clutching my husband’s hand as I bore down and pushed my way to the finish line. I will never forget how it felt to push a child through my vagina for the first time. Harold distracted me with all sorts of corny jokes. I wanted to kill him. I also loved him, and felt like in giving him this child, I was truly fulfilling my contract to both him and sweet Dustin.

Not so, as it turned out. Little Annabelle was just my first child. I’ve had seven in total, and it’s very likely that I may just be pregnant with another one at this very moment. My period is late, and I’m only thirty-nine, and still quite fertile. My large, milk-filled breasts are solid evidence to this testimony. Dustin’s wish made sure his ‘Dad’s would get along so much better that I’ve birthed seven of his father’s children into the world. Naturally, I have been unable to continue my work as a lawyer, and for a long time that was a great hindrance to me. I was frustrated by how I had become little more than a housewife, pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen, and I was reminded of my state when I caught up with my wife-turned-best friend Deborah, who is happily married to a man named Greg Matthews now. We went through a pregnancy together, actually. But while she is satisfied with two children, I have been a lot more productive thanks to Dustin’s wish.

And yet still I do not blame him. He is not the guilty party. I cannot proceed with any mental lawsuit against my stepson. He is sixteen now, and in truth I am so, so proud to be his stepmother. He views me as his second mother, in fact, no ‘step’ about it. I enjoy cooking with him, and hearing about his artistic passion, and we both enjoy rolling our eyes at his father’s corny jokes. I think I’ve been a very good influence on him, and perhaps that makes it all worth it. Because as much as my life changed, I am very glad it did. Oh, I could do with not being quite so fertile and stereotypically feminine, and my breasts are now full F-cups thanks to all my years of endless breastfeeding. But all my ambitions as a lawyer never gave me so much happiness - or endless work! - as raising all of my children, Dustin included, or so much contentment as being Harold’s wife. We really do get along better now.

I think I might go update this contract of ours, in fact. We have a little joke between us whenever we wish to begin intercourse, and it came as a result of Dustin’s wishing all the way back when he was five years old.

“Hey honey, do we have time to get along super duper well?”

The End