For Daddy

He called me "Daddy" in the emails and text messages I received from him. I guess I thought that it had been so long since we had been together as father and son, that he would still think of me like that. But really, that makes no sense. My son was now over 18. He seemed be acting as if he was still the child he was when I left.

I had good reason to believe. My wife, his mother, was cold and distant. I sought comfort elsewhere. I broke my vows, that is true, but what of her vows to me? A child changed everything. She was obsessed by being a mother. She ceased to be a wife as far as I was concerned.

We never spoke on the phone, my son and I. After my lawyer told me that he had received contact details, I tried to call the cellphone number. My calls were declined but my son always responded with a friendly text message soon afterwards. He was looking forward to seeing me after so long apart.

I was surprised that I had received anything at all from Miriam, my ex-wife's sister and the executor of her estate. My ex-wife had appointed Miriam as guardian of our son, and after a brief exchange between lawyers I agreed not to upset things. I was told that the interests of the child would favor him staying where he was. The opinion was that if I had wanted custody after my wife's death 5 years ago, I would need to prove that I was a better parent than my sister in law. It seemed too great an effort. I just needed to wait the few years until he was 18 and then, if he wanted to be with me, nobody could stop it.

He did want to see me. It was clear from everything that he wrote. He said that the love of father was important to him, especially after he lost his mother. He said that his aunt had never been able to offer him the love that he craved, perhaps because she saw too much of me in him.

There can be no doubt that Miriam hated me. She blamed me entirely for her sister's suicide. I think that both of them were mentally unstable, and what I blame myself for is not seeing that at the outset. My only hope was that my son had not inherited this mental fragility, something that I did worry about reading some of his letters.

He asked after Laura, my girlfriend at the time. Laura had been a moment of weakness for me, as she was not the kind of woman I was usually attracted to. She was bubbly but frankly a bit stupid. She posted lots of pictures of us together. She loved retro clothing and hairstyles and she was strictly old-fashioned in her attitude as well. She was happy to be a kept woman. She could cook and clean if required but preferred to devote herself to looking pretty and keeping me happy. At least that was how it seemed. It did not last.

Anyway, I arranged to meet my son on a visit to Miami. I wondered how he would look 9 years after I last saw him. He suggested that I meet him at my hotel and I gave him the details. When I checked in, I was told that my visitor had already gone up to me allocated room, and I should go on up.

When I opened the door and walked in there was a young woman there. She looked a little like Laura. The same hair and style, but younger and much prettier. She was sitting on the chair in the corner and she was wearing very little. A black bra, white panties, and black stocking and patent leather high heels.

"You have the wrong room, I think Miss," I said.

"Oh no, Daddy," came the reply. "This is your room."

I was confused and she knew it.

She said: "Oh Daddy, I have been waiting so long for you to come back to me. Auntie has told me what I needed to do to get you back, and I have followed all her instructions."

I felt sick. What kind of perversion was this? Surely this could not be my son?

"Aren't my legs pretty, Daddy. Auntie's been showing me how to make myself pretty all over since you've been gone." She seductively raised a leg and ran her hands up and down it. "What's the matter? Don't you like me being all pretty dressed up in my new undies, Daddy?"

I had to approach. I could see that the body of this girl was entirely female, with ample breasts showing atop the bra, smooth feminine limbs, and underpants with no bulge.

"Is that you, Robert?" I hoped that it could not be.

"Bobbi is better," she said. "But as you like it."

"What have you done to yourself?" I asked. "Or what has Miriam done to you?"

"She has told me what you love, Daddy. I have even had my hair done in the style you like, just like Laura. Isn't it pretty. It's the very same color as hers now, Daddy. And I know that she always has her hair done in retro updos like this style. Don't you adore it like this? I want to be as attractive as she is so that you will love me as much as you do her."

It was unbelievable. Now I was more angry than sickened. I said: "This is too much. You come in here looking like that. Was your intention to give me a heart attack?"

"Auntie wanted me to surprise you by making me look exactly like Laura so that you would be sure to love me. You should love me even more now Daddy. Auntie says I should just learn to look like this instead of a plain old scruffy boy that you decided to leave behind all those years ago when you ran off with your secretary. Won't you please say that you love me now, Daddy, please."

I looked at the face and I realized that this was not my torturer. This boy in stockings honestly believed this. He had somehow been persuaded that this was how he should win my love.

I said: "You poor child." She stood up and we hugged. "I am so sorry that this has happened to you."

She smelled of exotic perfume and I could feel her breasts against me, so that It was hard to think of this as my son. But the shivering and sobbing was undoubtedly genuine. She just kept saying "Daddy. Daddy. Daddy."

We stood for some time in that embrace, in that hotel room, in the city I used to call home, holding my child after such a long time apart.

Then she said: "Are we going out? I have clothes to go out."

"Would you like to?" I asked.

"I will iron your shirt. She said. She had the ironing board already up and waiting, and with a colorful dress just done.

I opened my case to get a shirt and when I brought it to her she had changed bras to a more revealing white item, and she was freshening her lipstick and check the earring she had put on, using the iron as a mirror.

She looked like she had living as a woman for a long time.

"I love ironing men's shirts," she said. "We have no men but Auntie has had me practice anyway."

"Do you really want to go out" I asked.

"I want to hang off your arm tonight, Daddy," she said. I want to be all that you love tonight. I want to be pretty so that you are happy to be with me and never want to leave me."

"Maybe we should just stay in tonight," I said. "We can go out tomorrow night." I had arranged to nights and then I was to be off, but the child was fixated. I needed to get him help. But first I needed to understand what had happened.

"So, your Aunt suggested that for me to love you, you needed to become a copy of my girlfriend?" I said.

"I am not sure what happened," she said. "I told them that I could not do it, Maybe Auntie and her friends have done something to me to make move and act just like a pretty girl. Do you think I'm like a pretty girl Daddy? Do you?"

"I think that you are very pretty, Bobbi." She was. She is. "But I think that she did this to you to punish me. Miriam always hated me."

"No Daddy, this can only be good for you. It's me that Auntie Miriam hates. She knew that I knew about your affairs. She says that I lied to Mom and covered for you and that I must make amends. She told me that all men cannot be trusted, and boys are just the same -- men in training. I could only be a girl living at her place. What kindness I got from Auntie I got when I was girly. She said if I wanted love only a parent could give it. But she said that you were not interested in family. Only in pretty girls. Pretty girls like I am now."

"That's not true," I exclaimed. "Surely you know that now. I love you. I always have loved you."

"Really," she said. There was a truly childlike expectation on her face. "Say it again Daddy."

"I love you," I said. She came up to me and kissed me. It was not a child's kiss of her father, or any kind of family kiss. It was a lover's kiss. Our lips slowly parted. But before she could pull away I pulled her back, and kissed her again. A man kissing a woman. A beautiful young woman.

Before I knew it I was on the bed. She had my belt undone and my pants and underpants down and she was licking my cock. Within seconds it was full of blood to the point of bursting.

She said: " I have another surprise for you Daddy. I can never be Robert anymore." And with that she straddled my raging cock and took me inside her. She had a vagina. "Made just for you," she said.

We fucked like no two people have ever fucked.

In the morning she put her hair up again, in the same style, with some tools she had brought and plenty of hairpins. I watched her do it, and I was fascinated. This person was so unbelievably feminine. Even more than Laura was.

We went downstairs, walking past the pool, to breakfast. She wore huge white sunglasses.

"Did I please you last night, Daddy," she asked.

"Last night was fantastic," I said. "And you know, despite the fact that we are close family, you and I, I don't feel weird about it. Maybe I should."

"You're a man Daddy," she said. "Now I'm a woman. We love each other."

"Yes, we do Bobbi, yes we do." I could barely believe that I was saying it, but here was a person who I knew would never lie to me.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2018