Supportive

"It appears you're body's going to be going through some more changes," the scientist said.
Meanwhile, I was still completely naked from the latest round of tests and checkups. I could feel my nipples hardening in the cool air of the exam room. This happened every time, and it was increasingly frustrating, just like this man's casual tone while delivering such bad news. "But I thought you said that my transformations were over," I said, my feminine voice making the complaint sound more whiny than I intended.
"Well, that's what we thought," he said, looking over his notes, "but the latest test results have uncovered something pretty incredible. It's actually a huge step for our research."
This too was delivered so calmly that it took me a moment to realize that he might actually be saying something positive. "You mean you found a way to fix it?" I said excitedly, my breasts jiggling as I bounced up and down on the exam table. "You're going to be able to change me back?"
It had been three months since the accident. I was an intern at a bio engineering research company. I was just delivering coffee orders in one of the labs when something weird happened. One of the researchers started up a motorized machine for one of their experiments. The floor started shaking, and suddenly the shelf I was walking past shifted and fell right on top of me. I was caught in an avalanche of tumbling vials and petri dishes that covered me in mixture of slimy, gooey fluids. The whole place went berserk as scientists tried to figure out what happened. Other than a few bruises, I didn't seem hurt, but they wanted to keep tabs on me. And it's a good thing too. Within a week, I had lost twenty-five pounds, two inches, and most of my body hair. The next week, the hair on my head was growing triple speed, and I had budding breasts. After a month my penis was gone and there was a soft pink vagina in its place. After six weeks, all the changes had slowed to a stop, and I was left as a big-breasted dark haired vixen. They told me I would be stuck like this until they found some way to reverse the process, and it sounded like they finally had!
"No, no, no," the scientist replied, casually dashing my hopes. "We're still MONTHS away from even understanding the exact conditions that transformed you, let alone finding a way to reverse them."
"Then, I don't understand," I said, feeling my soft, plump lips form an involuntary pout. "What's the incredible discovery? Why am I going to be transforming?"
"Tell me," the scientist said, giving me a hard stare, "how have you been feeling?"
"What? Fine I guess."
"And how have you been adapting to your new situation?"
I rolled my eyes. This guy was supposed to be fixing my situation, not giving me a therapy session. But I simply sighed and explained, "It's been weird, you know. I've got a backache from lugging around these giant tits – I don't think I could handle going up another cup size. I get headaches now and then. And I've had to buy a whole new wardrobe, which is a hassle. But at least my friends have all been very supportive."
The scientist chuckled – his first sign of emotion. "I bet they have!" he said sarcastically.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"What it means, my dear," he said with a snide grin, "is that you are pregnant."