Life 2.0: mostly sweet short M2F TG stories

Daddy's Little Girl

While deftly weaving between all the strangers meandering like zombies through the crowded airport, I stole a glance at the little girl sleeping in my arms.

"No," I thought to myself, "that's just the kind of thinking that lost me custody in the first place. He's my son, not my daughter."

Even though I knew Nicola -- no, Nicholas -- was very serious when he said he wanted to be a girl, the judge seemed convinced a five-year-old couldn't make that kind of a decision, even before Theresa's lawyer's presented their argument.

Attempting to show that he'd been living as a girl for a year and still hadn't changed his mind had only made things worse. The judge said that only proved I had been mentally abusing, grooming my son for an entire year.

"Arrival gate for AeroExpress flight 183 has changed. Flight 183 has just touched down and will be arriving at gate 16C," announced a disembodied voice, sounding much too chipper for five o-clock in the morning. "Oh sh--."

I shifted Nick higher on my hip, did an about face, and trotted in the other direction. My son lifted his head from my shoulder and squinted up at me.

"We at Mommy's plane yet?"

I brushed a few fine strands of his auburn hair from his face to behind his ear.

"Not yet, pumpkin," I answered as I put on what I hoped was a reassuring smile to hide my all of my worries. It was hard to do when I thought of how he'll probably react when he finds out about Theresa's plans to give him a 'decent' masculine haircut.

A shudder passed through me as I started imagining what else might happen in the month he'd be with her before we saw the judge again. Even though I knew without a doubt that she'd never do anything to physically hurt our child, I also wondered how far she'd go to try to 'help' Nick, to convince him he wasn't a girl, to scare the feminine thoughts and feelings out of him, and "undo" what she saw as something I did to him.

Yes, I enjoyed dressing as a girl in my teen years and into my 20's. Theresa knew I had that history, and she didn't approve of it. She told me just before we were married that if I couldn't put that completely behind me and man up, she wouldn't marry me. I loved her so completely I would have done anything for her, so I did.

We got married and I didn't touch a female garment for two years, other than what she was wearing. Around that two year mark, I began to be consumed with thoughts of dressing again. I tried to resist the urge, but during her pregnancy Theresa refused to have any sexual contact with me and I gave in. Once I was back into it, I couldn't stop. Every time I told myself, "just this one last time," but it never was.

After the third time she caught me, she'd had enough and filed for divorce.

The first time she caught me was just before Nick was born, she came home early, found me wearing her clothes and trying to test out the breast pump on myself. The second time, six months later, I had been careless with how I rehung her dress (she was very particular about her closet). The third time was the last straw for her. It was three weeks after the dress incident. I had a pair of hose on under my jeans and she happen to see the edge of those black lace hose peeking out of my waistband when I reached up to retrieve a plate from the cabinet.

Due to her police record (she had turned to shoplifting, and passing bad checks during a period when we were separated) and the fact that she didn't have a job of her own, I was initially awarded custody. But after just over four years of jail time, restitution, community service, and her getting back on her feet (to include landing a great job and a new husband), she got a lawyer and filed to take him away from me.

Following our court date, it had taken a lot of thinking and soul searching before I'd decided running away with Nicola, I mean Nick, would probably cause more harm than a short-term shift in custody arrangements. The judge decided it would be better if Brian was with her rather than me until our next court date.

Nick blinked sleepily, but I could still see both the curiosity and worry behind his eyes. "What she like?"

"Oh, she's the most wonderful woman I've ever known."

Aside from her brief period of poor judgment, that was the truth, which made her blindness to what was really going on with our child even more maddening.

I knew I was going to get angry again if I brooded about it too long, so I desperately grasped at the next thought that floated by.

"Jack seems like a pretty nice guy."

He gave me a much more serious look than a child his age should be able to manage.

"Mommy told me he could be my new daddy."

I quickly swallowed the lump threatening to choke me. "I'm sure he'd make a wonderful father."

"That mean ya ain't gonna be my daddy no more?"

I froze, ignoring the angry muttering of those trying to pass me. The pain in Nicholas's -- no, f that. The pain in Nicola's voice and the lost look in her eyes broke my heart.

"Sweetheart, he may be a part time father, but I'll always, always be your Daddy."

My assurance was rewarded with a tiny, brave smile.

"You know what else?" I asked as I brushed a tear from her delicate cheek.

"What?"

"No matter what, you'll always be Daddy's little girl."