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Story Notes:
Disclaimers: Scarecrow and Mrs. King is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Production Company. I have borrowed the characters without the permission of WB & Shoot the Moon.  This story is for entertainment purposes ONLY, and I do not wish to use this story to profit off of the borrowed characters.  This story, however, is copyrighted to the mentioned author.  Author’s note:  Thanks to Cheryl for letting me adopt her Leatherneck and Francine from her chapter in the story Romantic Dreams.  This short was written for the Friday Challenge; the prompt line was “What are you wearing?”  Many thanks to Amy for beta’ing this for me.

I never would have thought I would be so happy to be fat.  I actually enjoy looking at myself in the mirror these days and trying to see how much bigger I’ve become.

If anyone would have told me this time last year that in just one short year I would fall in love, get married and be heavily pregnant I would have laughed in their face.  I can’t believe how much I’m enjoying it.  Oh I don’t enjoy the frequency that my bladder demands to be emptied, or the fact that I get tired so easily, but everything else is such a joy.

The first time I felt her kick.  The first time I saw her on the ultrasound.  And let’s not forget what pregnancy hormones do to my sex drive.  Making love to Tony before I was pregnant was amazing but now it was mind blowing.

I looked at myself in my cheval mirror again, turning to the side and running my hands over my abdomen, tightening my blouse and outlining my ‘bump’.  Mrs. Francine Nelson.  I still can’t quite believe it.

I could hear the front door open and went down the stairs to greet my husband.

“You’re late darling, you’ve got five minutes to get ready, we’ve got a birth preparation class,” my voice was husky with desire as I mumbled against his lips before kissing him.  I knew what I was going to want later this evening!

“It’ll take me less than that, honey.  I’ll be back down in a couple of minutes.”  With that he took the stairs two at a time, and I enjoyed the view of his derriere disappearing upstairs.

True to his word he was back downstairs in two minutes.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.  He looked eight months pregnant.

“What are you wearing?”

“Oh, it’s one of those false pregnancy belts, so I can empathize better with you when you find it difficult to do something.”

“Tony, I love you, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep a straight face if you keep wearing that.”

And at that my husband just grinned like a little kid.








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