*This story contains incest and transgender identities. All characters are over the age of 18*
I was in my office, working on a new project that had taken up much of my free time when I heard drawers slam and then stomping coming from the master suite in the home I shared with my wife of 20 years and our only child, a beautiful daughter.
I rushed down the hall only to be met with my wife, red faced, hair going wild, dragging a huge suitcase. "Honey, what's going on? Are you ok?" I asked.
"I'm done, so fucking absolutely done! I can't pretend like we're a normal family, it's just sick!" she raged while struggling to descend the large staircase to the first floor. I heard a soft click and saw my daughter peering out of her bedroom door, her silken blonde hair and baby blue eyes filled with tears making my stomach clench for a moment before I hurried down the stairs after my wife.
I caught her by the front door, keys in hand. I grabbed her arms to make her stop for a moment and begged her to just "please tell me what's going on!" She spit in my face, "our son is a sick pervert and you are too! I can't enable this behavior any longer, it's him or me!" Her red rimmed eyes stared defiantly into mine.
A muffled sob caused us both to turn and there was my daughter, tears streaming down her face. My heart ached, thinking about the choice I would have to make.
I should back up and explain. We don't have a son, rather...we did. He was a beautiful baby, so sweet and small. Growing up, he was never quite like the other boys. Always more sensitive, preferred sitting alone and reading to rough housing with other boys. He hated masculine clothes and many a fight was had between him and his mother over his preferences for a feminine look.
We were still surprised when at 15, he came to us and said he was not our son, but our daughter. Rachel was the name she picked. She always took after her mother but after starting her transition it was all the more obvious that she was meant to be a woman. She barely brushed 5'2", with a petite frame and a little bubble butt. Pale blonde hair that she grew down her back and always wore loose. I felt so hulking next to her, at 6'2" with dark hair and stubble that never seemed to disappear no matter how many times a day I shaved.
I had never met someone who was trans, at least as far as I knew. I did research that night alone in my office while my wife laid in bed loudly sobbing. After reading about surgeries and hormones and clothing to aid in "passing" I stumbled upon a darker side...porn with trans women. Dating sites for what they call "chasers." Tops. Bottoms. Switching. Every link led to something more. I was intrigued but never thought I would start to be turned on by these images. Quickly though, it was all I could get off to. My sex life with my wife no longer interested me and when I did manage to get it up for her, I could only cum fucking her from behind while imagining she had a cock.
I fully supported Rachel's choices and over the years, while my secret obsession grew, she too grew into a beautiful woman. Over time I realized that I was watching her, not as a proud father, but as a man with a crush. It wasn't a sudden moment where it all changed but a gradual process. I saw how her hair flicked across her lower back while walking around the house, how her soft, shiny lips moved when she talked to me, how her eyes lit up when I brought her special presents back from my business trips.
Anytime I saw her in a tiny crop top, her puffy nipples pushing against the fabric, or in a swimsuit, her small soft bulge gently outlined in fabric, I would count down the minutes until I could escape to my office and release the pent up feelings. I would masturbate, thinking of her lips tracing the line of my cock, kissing her neck, hands wrapped around her thin waist. I knew it was wrong, to want to fuck your own child. But to me, she was the ultimate perfect woman. Even just saying her name felt good in my mouth.
My wife never accepted Rachel, even after 4 years had gone by. She tried to put a stop to every moment of transition. If she spotted any girl clothes in the laundry, into the trash they went. I got my daughter a lock for her room to keep her mother from trashing anything in there. I corrected her every time she misgendered Rachel or used her deadname. Eventually she stopped referring to Rachel at all and then they completely avoided each other. They were never in the same room at the same time. We were at a stalemate or so I thought but now I knew better. She was making an ultimatum. Her or our child, who yes I absolutely wanted to fuck. But beyond that, I loved Rachel. I loved her as a man and as her father both, I could never abandon her.
My decision was quick. Easier than my wife expected I'm sure. She probably thought right up until the end that I would choose her but it was never going to happen.
"Her."
The light faded from my wife's eyes and she went limp, like all the air had gone out of her. "I see. You'll be hearing from my divorce lawyer," she said as she opened the front door and stepped out with the heavy suitcase. She tossed over her shoulder at Rachel, "I hope you're happy. This is all your fault, you ruined my life." With that last jab, I slammed the door shut behind her.
I turned to Rachel who was sobbing quietly into her hands. She looked so small and fragile, standing in the foyer in an oversized sweatshirt and shorts that barely peeked out from underneath it. She was so beautiful, my angel. I walked over and gathered her in my arms while gently making consoling sounds.
After a moment, she looked up at me and said, "Daddy, did I ruin your life? Is she right?"
My breath hitched a moment looking into her eyes, closer to her than I'd been in years. I had avoided hugs for so long, worried my body would betray my lust for my daughter. I reassured her, "No. You have always been the greatest thing that happened to me. I love you more than anything, your mom is just angry and doesn't understand. But it's ok, from now on it's you and me. You'll never have to worry about me choosing anyone over you."
She buried her face in my chest and wrapped her arms around me while I kissed the top of her head. "Thank you daddy, I love you too...so much."
