by Maren Smith
“Call him. If he gave it to you, that means he wants to talk. I also know you're not the most peopling person, so the phone call would be perfect.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying you know. Get off the phone with me. It's four AM here, your father is getting up soon, and I want time with him before I send him off to work.”
“What are you doing up so early?”
“One of my couples needed help, and we scheduled a video appointment.”
“Go spend quality time with Dad and call me later in the week. I can never get the time difference right.”
We said our goodbyes and I disconnected the call, turning off the soup to let it cool before putting it in containers. I took my soda and went to the living room to curl up on the couch. I scratched my bare chest with the small patch of hair in the center and looked down at fading scars. The hair under my navel had thickened and darkened disappearing into my sweats, and under those, I had a thick bush, and my clit was bigger.
The changes were subtle at first, but then I'd noticed the facial and body hair changed, the pattern more masculine. Every new difference had excited me. I was still slender, but muscles were more defined, and I had a small belly. There was only so much that hormones could do. I'd thought about having children one day, so delayed my hysterectomy until I made a definite choice, and still, that wasn’t a guarantee.
I turned my phone over in my hands and decided to take Mom's advice. I searched for his contact and connected the call before I changed my mind. The ringing sounded in my ear and I set the phone away so I couldn't hit the end call as my nervousness grew.
“Hey, boy. I was wondering if you'd call.”
His voice was deep, with just enough husky notes to make it perfect. I could get obsessed with him talking to me. I bet he'd be amazing reading me a bedtime story.
“I debated it all day.”
“Why is that?”
“I don't know. You make me nervous.”
“I don't like that.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You don't apologize for how you're feeling. I was surprised by you.”
“Why?”
“I didn't expect Bell to show up with a beautiful boy I couldn't stop looking at.”
I felt my face heat, and I couldn't help smiling. I was glad he couldn't see it. Something I'd never been able to do is take a compliment.
“I'm not beautiful.”
“You very much are, boy, and I'll tell you until you believe it.”
“What are we doing?” I wanted to hear him say it. I needed the words. I didn't want to assume his intentions. I wasn't someone who liked dating, but I also wasn't a hookup type. I'd had four, maybe five men I'd dated over the years. I'd loved sex, I missed it, but I was also looking for someone who'd accept my Little. Most of the time, I thought I was setting my expectations too high, but I'd ignored my needs, and I didn't want to do that anymore.
“What we're doing is…I'm going to ask you to come to my place for dinner Friday night. I'll pick you up. Bring you here, and we'll see if we like each other. If we do, maybe your Little can come out to play for Daddy.”
I groaned and tried to break it off, hoping he didn't hear it, but my luck had never been that good.
“I see you like that idea. Say, yes.”
I wanted to answer right away, but I held back—keeping my expectations in check needed to be maintained. One dinner, a single night couldn’t hurt, and I wanted it. “Yes.”
“Good, I want you to be comfortable with me. And the only way that can happen is if we spend time together. I noticed I made you nervous, and I need to earn your trust. Then maybe you'll tell me why, but until then, I want to see you.”
“I'd like that. I haven't dated in a long time and, well, my Little has also been solo. I have play days where I give him time.”
“No one has been your Daddy before?”
“No.”
“I haven't had a Little in years. I hope you'll be mine sometime in the future when you're ready. How about I pick you up at seven on Friday?”
“That's good, I get off work at five.”
“Then it's a date. Do you have something to do right now? I'd enjoy talking to you more.”
“No, I just finished talking to my mom and meal-prepped for the week. I'm just waiting for stuff to cool to put it in containers. Sundays are always my days to do all the cooking. Sometimes it's just not worth making meals for one every night.”
“That's why I always end up with takeout.”
I settled into the thick cushions of my couch as we talked. It was more like twenty questions. I continued the call because I just wanted to listen to him talk. I didn't care about what.
Time passed, but I didn't check the clock or worry about it. I had a date with him, and for the first time, I wasn't dreading the small talk, and I was looking forward to spending an evening with a man who thought I was a beautiful boy.
Chapter Four
Anderson
Damn, I was sweating bullets and didn't understand why. We'd talked for hours, almost every night on the lead up to our date. All about his hippie mother who was a sex therapist, and his dad who was career military. I knew what foods he hated, and he'd only dated a handful of people, and that he worked as a social worker since he'd graduated college. I'd told him I was bisexual and hadn't dated seriously since my divorce.
We'd gotten all the small talk and getting to know each other portion of the dating process out of the way already without even seeing each other. I sensed he was more comfortable talking to me over the phone first. His trust was going to be hard to earn. It was going to be worth it, though.
I shouldn't get too ahead of myself. He could spend time with me face-to-face and decide he didn't want to try. I was a forty-eight-year-old man, and I was as nervous as a teenager going on his first date.
The GPS kept throwing out directions, and I turned into a small neighborhood of older one-story houses in bright colors and beautifully landscaped. I couldn't help smiling as I checked them out. I heard your destination is on your right from the speaker. His house was a dark purple with black shutters, flowerpots lined the eaves, and ivy crawled up the porch railings on one side of the house. I parked and got out. I made my way up the pavers of the walkway and stepped up on the porch.
I rang the doorbell and waited, and the muffled sound of the deadbolt unlocking warned me the door was opening. He appeared wearing a pink button-down shirt and gray slacks. His shoulder-length blond hair was a fall of loose waves around his face—when he'd come over to help me move, he'd had it tied back.
“Hi.”
“Hi, you look gorgeous. Are you ready?”
“You do, too. I’m almost good to go, come on in.” He stepped back.
I couldn't resist. I raised my hand to cup his jaw and lowered my mouth to his and kissed his full soft lips. When I would've deepened it, I pulled back slightly. “I hope that was okay.”
“Yes, yes, it was fine. I've never been really good at this dating thing.”
“Relax, we got all the hard stuff out of the way with the phone calls. All we have to do now is enjoy our time together and see if we'd like to repeat it.”
He nodded. “Would you like a tour? There's not much to see, though.”
“I'd love a tour.” I dropped my hand to my side and looked at the interior, which was just as colorful as the outside. “I noticed there's a theme in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, it's the first thing I noticed when the realtor showed me the house. Everyone knows everyone. If someone’s sick, a neighbor shows up with soup or does the yardwork. It's strangely like a family. I think that's the reason I put in an offer on it. She’d had a list of other places, but to me, this was it.”
He showed me around. The kitchen had vintage-looking appliances, and the hardwood floors were scuffed and scarred, giving the dark wood character.
“I like it. It's very much you.”
“Thanks. I've been se
ttling in slowly. I'll find something I like at an antique store or thrift shop…bring it home. This is the most stuff I've ever owned.”
“Are you always this neat?”
“Yes, everything needs a place. Chaos makes me anxious.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I'm the same way. Are you ready for dinner?”
“Yes, just let me grab my phone and stuff.”
When I followed him into his room, I noticed it was orderly and the bed was made. Not a wrinkle in sight. I'd tried remaking my bed the next morning after he'd done it, and it looked nowhere near as perfect. He put his wallet in his back pocket, keys in his front, and kept his phone in his hand. He walked toward me and I backed up, letting him go first.
Ten minutes later, we were on our way home. I wanted this too badly, so I attempted to take my own advice and forced my body to relax. I liked the man, and I wanted to meet the boy. When I wanted something, I went for it. I was finally settling into the life I wanted, and there was only one thing missing, and I wanted him to be that final piece.
“I have everything prepped for dinner. You can sit there and watch me cook.”
“Do you like to cook?”
“Love it and didn't realize how much until I moved in. Being single, sometimes it’s just easier to order something or pick it up on the way home. Traveling makes it worse, though.”
The trip home seemed quicker than the one to his place, and I turned into my driveway. I'd left the lights on inside. I parked, got out, and went out to unbuckle him. Daddy had missed having someone to take care of. My ex-wife hadn't liked it, so I'd locked it away.
He looked up at me from under his long lashes as I lifted him out of the seat. Letting his slender body slide down mine, I didn't miss the touches to the sides of my belly.
“You have a thing for Daddy's belly?”
“Maybe. You tick all my boxes, actually.”
“Good, I want to. Let's go inside so I can feed you. It's probably past your dinner time.”
“Not by much.”
I laced our fingers together—his hand was soft and I wanted to find out what his touch would feel like on my skin. Those were directions my brain didn't need to go yet. I was already too occupied with what he'd look like spread out on my bed.
“Unacceptable. Did you at least snack while you waited?” I asked as I led him to the door, unlocked it and motioned him inside
“Yes, I had organic gummies and juice.”
“I guess that's okay.” I released his hand reluctantly.
We went to the kitchen, and I sat him on one of my barstools at the large island. I'd gone with a simple pasta and a light, roasted vegetable sauce, fresh bread, and a marbled cheesecake I'd picked up from the bakery.
“How did you learn about your Little?”
“That's easy, Mom. She had a couple that was a Daddy and a little girl. I overheard a session. Mom works from home, or when she has to move, she does remote ones. The woman had some intimacy issues due to trauma. Touch aversion. While Mom worked on their intimacy, I learned some stuff. And then in my early twenties, I had an epiphany.”
“But never had a Daddy or Caregiver?”
“No, I obviously grew up in a very sex-positive home, and when I went to hang out with friends at their houses…it felt oppressive. They had rules. And curfews. No drugs or alcohol, my parents believed that experimenting in a safe environment taught you to be responsible. I felt free in my home, yet stifled in the outside world. I guess you could say I lived two lives.”
I didn't like he'd felt trapped. He had an amazing personality. I liked his snark and eccentric view on life.
“I can understand that. We conform to fit, and those things about us that make us unique are pushed aside.”
“Yeah, Sunflower was so upset that I did that. She felt like she failed at fostering my safety and self-worth.”
“Sunflower, I can't get over that, but I think she did an amazing job.”
“I told her she did. I promised her I was okay. So it took me a little longer to come out of my cocoon, so to speak. I didn't have Mom there to tell me it was okay, that I'd be safe, and I changed, conformed when I started college.”
“You did tell me moving around all the time in a military family set you apart, so you got used to not fitting in or making friends. It's understandable that you'd try something different.” I put the finishing touches on the quick sauce, which was breaking down the tomatoes and cooking off the white wine. The pasta water needed a few more minutes to boil. The pasta was fresh and wouldn't take long. Then I could feed my boy and fully focus on him.
“What about you? You said you were ready to settle, what happened?”
“That’s a long boring story.”
“Don't care, I want to hear it.”
“Well, my parents were strict, old-fashioned and nothing less than perfection would do. I never missed a day of school. It was A-plus or nothing. I played every sport. Joined every extracurricular that I could to pad that university resume. I never had control over my life, even when I went away to college and then law school. Every moment of my life was planned out. I got the best job. The most expensive penthouse. Everything had to be the best. It gets tiring trying to be perfect.”
“No one's perfect.”
“And I would completely agree, but I had that mindset for a long time. Yet it took me until my divorce and a few years after that to break that mentality.”
“What about your parents? You didn't talk about them in our talks.”
“They passed away years ago. They were older when they had me. Dad went first from cancer, and then Mom a few years later, just went to sleep and didn't wake up. Her housekeeper found her the next morning.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. Like I said, they were older, in their forties and here I came as a surprise.” I dropped the pasta in the water. “Almost time to eat, you want to set the table?”
“I can do that.”
He hopped off the stool, and I told him where everything was. He had the small kitchen table ready as I finished the sauce with a bit of the pasta water and then added the noodles to toss. I carried the pan to the table and split the contents evenly, then set the pan back on the stove for the time being.
I pulled out one of the chairs for him, and he sat down, and then I joined him. He reached for his fork. “No.”
He lifted his gaze to mine, and I smiled at him as I took over.
“You don't have to feed me,” he told me even as he accepted the first bite.
“I don't have to do anything. I want to. I've been thinking about what I'd do to and for you all week.” I ate between bites I fed him and helped him drink.
“What did you want?”
“To be your Daddy. To have you in my bed.” His eyes widened with every word that passed my lips. “Phone calls weren't enough. Do you want to be my little boy, Whisper? Have Daddy take care of all your needs?” I raised my free hand to stroke his soft cheek. “You're so perfect.” I let him have a sip of wine, and he never broke eye contact. It was almost as if he were looking for a lie or a motive.
Fuck the food, I grabbed his hand and pulled him from his chair to settle him on my thigh.
“I'm not playing with you, Whisper. I knew the minute I saw you, you were mine. The talks made it so hard to stay away. I wanted you on my lap cuddled up to me on the couch as we shared all of it.” I brushed my lips to his, gently, and teased him until he started following me.
“All you have to do is say yes.” I stroked his soft hair, and with my other hand, I drew my hand from his knee to hip. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
That single word meant everything. I tangled my hand in his hair and pulled until my mouth was on his. My tongue traced the plump curves. When his arms wrapped around my neck, I tugged him closer. My dick was pushing at my briefs and zipper. How could a kiss make me that hard?
Then he was pulling away, fighting my grip but not like he wante
d to run.
“Anderson, we…we have to talk for a minute. If this ends up in bed, is me being trans going to be an issue?” He asked the question with a natural frankness that didn't shock me. It was just him.
“No. Were you scared it would be an issue?”
He nodded, and I quickly brought my hand up to brush my thumb across his cheek
“Is that why you were nervous about my interest?” He nodded again, and that wouldn't do. “In this house, we use our words.”
“Yes, this is my first date since I transitioned. I've been out, clubs and things like that, but never a date.”
“You don't have to worry about it. I understand your uncertainty, and I'm sure feared that it would bother me, but rest assured, I want you, Whisper. All beautiful pieces of you. Even the snarky ones.”
He gave me the brightest smile, and he hugged me so tightly that I could barely breathe. I wrapped my arms around him and held him just as tight.
“Do you want to finish dinner or go in the living room and cuddle on Daddy's lap? We can eat later. We have all night.”
“Cuddle, please.”
“Please, what?”
I heard his heavy sigh. “Please, Daddy.” He held my neck harder, and I stood with him in my arms, carrying him to the living room.
I got us settled on the couch with him cradled on my lap. “You feel just right.” He nuzzled my chest where his head was resting. My cock was hard at the feel and weight of him, his slim form perfect on my lap. I stared down at his adorable face. He had a small contented smile. I hadn't realized until that moment how much telling me he was transgender was going to free him. He was drawing a figure eight around the buttons that covered my stomach.
“I love that you have a belly. Are you hairy too?”
“Yes. A lot of hair.” I smirked as he hummed and trembled a bit in my arms.
“What is a corporate lawyer doing with tattoos?” He traced the quarter-inch tattooed sleeve that peeked out from under my rolled-up sleeves.
“Daddy always wanted one. It was a part of that settling thing. Doing all the things I didn't think were appropriate. Does the way Daddy looks please you?”
