Forgive Me
From an AI image by Priscillamcminnar on Deviant Art
By Maryanne Peters

I was approaching fifty and I was alone. I had been with a succession of women so I spent time on dating sites looking for the right lady. That means not the sites that are there for sex, but relationship-based sites. I was not looking for a slut but somebody closer to my age and somebody who favored the style of dress and presentation that I always preferred in a woman. I like women to be very feminine.

Because of the response – or the lack of it - I started to wonder if I was just plain weird. That was when I decided to find out whether there were other men like me. I decided to post another profile with another email address, and put myself online as a woman. I described myself as - “An ultra-feminine woman with a pretty face and a fulsome figure who seeks a masculine man to share interests in beautiful things”. I added – “Those who expect sex to follow immediately should not respond”. I favor a woman with self-respect and that was who I wanted to present.

I was surprised by the deluge of responses I got. It seemed like so many mature men wanted a woman just like the woman I was pretending to be. Perhaps some of them had a mother like mine, who always dressed in a feminine way, often in pink, and who always ensured that her hair and makeup were perfect and wore heels even around the house. Or perhaps it was just that they were recalled the time when men were men and women put beauty above all else.

I was inundated with proposal of various kinds, but some were extremely generous and none of them were requiring sex. Several of them asked for photographs and, just so I could keep the correspondence going, I decided to send something.

I suppose that I could have just used photoshop or one of those apps that turns a man’s face into a woman’s face, but I did try it and I was not happy with the response. It was clearly not me, and although you might say that claiming to be another sex is the greatest lie, I just felt it was wrong to deceive people about your appearance. So I decided to go to one of those feminization boutiques and have a makeover and photoshoot. I sent my photos out to about a dozen highly eligible men.

One of those who came back to me really got me thinking. His name was Trevor, and he said that recovering the sense of true beauty from the past required a partnership between the beautiful creature and her adoring admirer. He also mentioned that he was extremely wealthy and more than willing to pay the price of beauty whatever that may be. He said that he wanted me “on his arm”.

He sounded so perfect. Here was a man who could give a woman everything. I, on the other hand, really had nothing to offer. I had reached the conclusion that I did not deserve the women I craved. Instead, something that I was told by the lady at the feminization boutique kept ringing in my ears – “You really do make a very pretty lady, in the traditional way.”

Could I achieve my desires by being the woman I was looking for? Would that be the final form of the partnership with me being my feminine dream and Trevor being my wealth admirer?

I sent him a message to explain that the image that I sent was not doctored but did not reveal all my imperfections. I apologized to him for my deceit and told him that I would accept his rejection of me.

Instead, I had a call from a plastic surgeon’s office explaining that Trevor had underwritten the cost of a consultation and any work that I needed done, and that the bill would be the only information that he would receive. Trevor did not want to know anything about what I was having fixed. He only wanted me – the beautiful me.

Just in case you thought that I might have booked in a sex change on the spot, that would have been ridiculous. I also resolved that I would keep my fulsome figure, augments by a pair of breasts to scale. I also spent money on my scalp and through the surgeon I accessed powerful female hormones on slow release into my body. I also had my voice modified a little. I would need time to heal, as I explained to Trevor.

When we finally met, I was not sure how things would go, but I suppose the image explains something. I appeared to be the woman I had always dreamed of and she was 100% mine, and just a mirror away from me. I think that Trevor has the look of proud satisfaction as he clutches my hand.

I suppose that I imagined that he would admire me and that was all – across the dining table or glancing at me in the passenger seat, with me smiling back to reassure him that this was that partnership he spoke of. I had a slight dread of physical contact more than holding his hand or his arm or accepting a kiss or his hand in contact with my cheek, but as time went by, I found myself craving more.

I wanted him to play with my breasts. Of course, penetration was impossible, but intimacy seemed to me to be the natural consequence of admiration. It was me rather than him who first invited a kiss on the lips and then a cuddle on the couch.

Then I wanted to share a bed with him. I had always intended to keep my panties on, with a special latex strip underneath to cover any wayward hands in the night. I suppose that I had assumed that Trevor was of an age where sexual activity was no longer possible, as had been the case for me even before the hormones. But in bed one night I reached across and found the solid proof that was not the case. I used my hand to please him, but he whispered something about consummating our relationship with marriage and then marital rites … or is that rights?

Forgive me, Trevor, I have been deceiving you this whole time.

Or, I could tell him that I need to have a hysterectomy and head back to that plastic surgeon to finish the job?

The fact is that I love this life. Why just look like the perfect woman when you can be the perfect woman? But of course, she is not quite perfect … at least, not yet.

And I think that I might love Trevor too. How can you not love a man who looks at you the way he does?

I never intended to hurt him. Do I have to?

The End
1160
© Maryanne Peters 2024