You're a guy! ... but it doesn't matter.

"I'M A GUY!" you scream out just before you cum, and the world dissolves in ecstatic release, pleasure rippling out from between your thighs.

It takes a while to come back down from that. As the orgasm slowly subsides, you can feel the racing of your own heart. It's in your ears. In your temples. The double-tap of your pulse. You can feel the sweat on your body, a drop making its way down your belly to your navel.

You open your eyes, and she's there - Gemma - with a cheshire grin. "Apparently not," she says.

You feel weight of your breasts. A distant soreness in your pelvis. Your rounded hips against her sheets. The delicious fullness of her strap-on still inside you.

You're still a girl. You didn't change. That should have been enough to change you. It should have, and you didn't... Maybe, maybe you just couldn't change because the strap-on was still in you? You cling to that hope.

Gemma presses her lips to yours, her tongue darting into your mouth, and you don't resist her, your mind still reeling in shock. Is this it? Are you pregnant? Oh God... She breaks the kiss, looking down at you possessively, and pulls out. When you don't change upon the strap-on being removed, you shiver involuntarily.

The afterglow is fading. Maybe you're not pregnant yet. It takes a while for sperm to do its business. It has to get past the cervix. Find the egg. Fertilize it. Surely it hasn't been long enough for Chet to have knocked you up. ... No, you realize: for GEMMA to have knocked you up. Chet might have been the sperm donor, but it's Gemma's child you're carrying.

She strokes your lower abdomen with her left hand, and you know. No amount of denial will change things now: You're pregnant.

You wanted to take her by **** and knock her up to cure your curse, and now your curse is gone, but not the way you wanted. You're pregnant, and there is a look of triumph in her eyes.

"There," she says. "All gone. You see? I'm a woman of my word."