Taller
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Sometimes I wish I was shorter than him, but he says that he loves me the way I am. I am wearing heels in this shot, so he looks shorter than he is. But he says that he likes me to wear heels – they make my legs look even better.

“What the hell, Babe. Even without heels you are taller than me, so what do I care? Just be as beautiful as you can be.” That’s him. That’s my man.

We were friends when I was a man. Well, more rivals I suppose. I was always just a little bit better than him at a whole host of things – a little stronger, a little faster, and taller than him. But for some reason, it was him that I chose to speak to first about who I really was and what I had to do.

“If I go through with this the field will be clear for you,” I joked, trying to make light of what for me was a very difficult decision.

“You have to be the person you are,” he told me. “You just get on with it. I will support you from the sidelines on this one. Just get on and win this one on your own.”

Hormones don’t change your bone structure. I am still tall and broad in the shoulders. But I have lost a good amount of muscle and I have soft bits that he liked to watch develop. He liked to say - “the view is good from the sidelines.” What girl doesn’t love to hear things like that?

It was not my intention to make him my boyfriend when I told him, but now it seems as if it had to be that way. He really understands me, and he has been there throughout my transition.

I wanted to pleasure him as a woman pleasures a man. I can do that with my soft hands and with my mouth, but I look forward to the day when I can do it with a pussy that I have told him - “will be made just for you.” It feels great to talk about it.

I know that sometimes people talk to him about me and ask him why he has chosen to be with a transwoman, but he says that he jokes that it was the only way to beat me at anything. Very soon he will have the biggest cock and that is what I want for him.

He now knows that my body might be tall, but it is like soft putty in his hands. I will do anything for him, and he knows it.

When he puts his arm around me, I feel small and weak, and to me he will always be the dominant one. I just happen to be a little taller.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2023