A

 Mother's

 Love

By K.T. Leone

(Little Katie)

Author's note: I posted this maybe two weeks ago and took it down because 1. It works better as a stand alone, and 2. I didn't think I was going to finish it in a timely fashion and didn't want people to suffer on my account. This is a shorter story, which I am hoping gets my juices flowing for writing my epics that I am known for. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

Once again, Tonya woke up in her bed alone. It had been this way for the past two years, but at least she could finally wake up and not be overcome by tears. Two years had past since her spouse, Sam, had died while on duty as a firefighter, and finally the pain was waning. Still, the large California King seemed eerily empty and, though she had never ventured to roll over and occupy the side where Sam once lay, she was keenly aware of the vast, empty space. As she eyed the empty terrain of the bed, it appeared to go on for miles and that distance seemed a perfect metaphor for how far Tonya felt from her beloved.

“Two long years,” Tonya spoke to the empty pillow beside her in a small, whisper of a voice. “Two years without seeing your smile when I wake up.”

Tonya's long fingers that still had most of the red nail polish from the day before gently stroked the pillow as if it were Sam's face. Life was so different without her spouse by her side and the dreams that she once had were pushed to the side. Sam was the perfect balance in her life. A firefighter, rugged and strong, in many way considered a 'man's' man who died a hero.

Tonya could still remember that night. Sam was working one of the 24 hour shifts that was the custom. A house fire had trapped a family inside and it was Sam who volunteered to go in after them. The family was saved, but while ushering the last member out, a beam collapsed and the damage was too severe. Sam had died instantly of a broken neck and life became more about survival than prosperity for quite some time.

She sighed deeply and knew that if she would continue that she could fall into a depression. A depression was something that she didn't need on this Saturday when she had so much planned and a rambunctious four year old to keep in line.

“Come on Tonya,” the brown haired woman spoke to herself firmly. “Pull yourself together. Think of better things.”

Better things, Tonya mused. On a day like this those better things became increasingly difficult to grab a hold of. But she must, she couldn't ruin the day or the weekend.

“You do have a date with Brad,” Tonya said to herself. There was a warming thought. She had been dating Brad for several months and things were becoming more and more serious. It was her first real relationship since Sam's death. But there were certain obstacles to overcome before things could progress to the next stage. For one, there was her child, who seemed adamant to not accept another person in her life and until Samantha was ready, things would have to stay in a holding pattern.

Ah, Samantha, Tonya thought. So much like Sam, and such a handful. Being a mother to a daughter was never Tonya's plan in life, but she reasoned fathers had sons and mothers had daughters and though there were some reservations about such a drastic change, she felt it was for the best. Samantha was so young, she figured the change would go seamlessly, but so far, it was a battle.

“Maybe today will be different,” Tonya spoke out loud wistfully. “Perhaps Samantha will realize that Sunday is Mother's day and just maybe, maybe she will give me a break.”

Tonya shook her head, knowing that nothing came easy when it came to her child. Maybe too much had changed and even though the child was young when Sam died, maybe the lingering memories of how life use to be made it difficult to accept life for what it had become.

Tonya swung her feet off the side of the bed and sat up. The long, silky nightgown did its job of keeping decency intact in case a small child once again forgot the rules and came barging into the room unannounced. Tonya ran her hand over the cool material, enjoying the texture but wishing it were someone else's hand doing the touching. She ran her hand down her creamy leg, satisfied that she didn't need to shave. For a while after Sam's death she didn't keep up her appearance at all, but since Brad came into her life she paid more attention to those feminine details such as keeping her body smooth and stubble free. It was amazing how much work went into being pretty and how much she took for granted when Sam was alive.

“That's enough reminiscing,” Tonya scolded herself. “Time to get the day started.”

Tonya slipped her feet into an awaiting pair of pink fuzzy slippers and stood up. Her flowered housecoat was neatly laid over a chair and she put it on. She took a glance in the mirror, noticed that she would have to spend some time on her hair later on if she planned to dazzle Brad during their date tonight, but settled on a quick brush through for the morning. After her hair was sufficiently out of her face, Tonya adjusted her breast that seemed to always need a little poofing in the morning and then made her way to the door.

The house was strangely quiet for a morning. Usually she could hear her four year old Samantha ransacking through the house as soon as it was first light. But last night the child had one of her ever increasing tantrums and perhaps all that extra assertion wore her out. At least there was an upside to the child's misbehavior as of late.

Tonya walked down the hall, passed a picture of Sam dressed in firefighter gear, and made her way to the child's room. The room was a mess, showing proof that even though Tonya had sent the girl to bed, that her command was once again disobeyed. Dolls were strewn about, all face down and naked across the floor. The dollhouse had been ransacked, the furniture that should've been neatly inside was haphazardly placed around the room. A doll bed sat on the dresser, a sofa sat under the child's bed, and various other bits and pieces were God knows where. The only toys that appeared to be safe from the child's tyranny were a pink Barbie Corvette and a matching pink Barbie Volkswagen Bug.

Tonya looked down at the toy cars in dismay. They were not the cause for the dissension, but they certainly didn't help. With all the money that was spent on typical girl toys that Samantha treated so shabbily, the only ones that survived maltreatment were the ones more closely appropriate for boys.

“Stay the course, Tonya,” the mother said to herself. “Fathers have sons and mothers have daughters, that's the way things work. Samantha will come around and will start behaving like a young lady and everything will work out fine.” It was a common pep talk that she was giving herself as of late, but it helped get her through. Of course her child was having difficulty, losing a parent wasn't easy, and with the change in gender, things had to be a little confusing and unsettling. Tonya's hope was that when the gender change happened, the child might've been to young to realize it. But things have been set in motion and it was both too late and too early to change things now. “Mothers have daughters,” she said to herself once again as she made her way across a minefield of toys.

Samantha was a pretty little child, and while she slept looked almost angelic. “See, she is such a pretty girl,” Tonya said to herself as she noticed the long strands of sandy blonde hair drape across the child's face. She knew she was doing the right thing with the current arrangement, she just wish the little girl would get with the program. But at four, the child was probably just testing boundaries and trying to come to terms with who she was.

The mother never knew what behavior to expect from the child. Last night was a disaster and it seamed that the disasters were happening at greater frequencies, but sometimes Samantha could be a pure joy. Tonya had yet to unlock the key to the behavior she wanted out of the child and tried her best to push the right buttons. Maybe the behavior was a result of Sam dying. Not the actual death of her spouse, but after Sam had died, the child was given far greater leeway than Tonya was currently willing to give. “Here goes nothing,” Tonya said as she reach towards the sheet covered child.

Tonya vigorously shook the child's shoulder. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she said just above a whisper. “It's time to play the day away.”

Samantha stirred to wakefulness, kicking the sheet off of her tiny frame in the process.

Tonya looked down at the mostly naked child in disappointment. The only stitch of clothing on the four year old was a pair of white panties, not at all what she had been dressed in when sent to her room. “What happened to your pretty nightie,” Tonya asked casually, trying not to sound angry or appear to be scolding.

Samantha sat up in bed and put her back against the white wooden headboard. “I don't like it, it's icky.”

“It's not icky, it makes you look very pretty.”

The child's face tensed as her lips became thinner, a sure sign she wasn't at all pleased with the idea of the nightgown. “I don't want to look pretty.”

Tonya sighed. The battle from the night before was about to begin anew and she doubted she had the strength. “You can't go downstairs or out to play with Cynthia wearing nothing but your undies, so for now you will just have to wear it, whether you like it or not.”

The child opened her mouth in protest, but Tonya gave a stern look and pointed her finger at the child in a warning. That look meant only one thing to the child, a spanking was looming if she continued down the path she was on. Instead of risk a reddened tushy, Samantha hopped out of bed, found the nightgown that was thrown haphazardly into a corner and put it on.

Tonya watched the child's every move to insure compliance. Why did the day have to start out the way it did? Things would be so much easier if Sam was still around, Sam had such a way with their child. But, Samantha was doing what she was told and even though the nightgown was wrinkled and looked a tad disheveled, at least it covered the child's body.

The pink and white Hello Kitty nightgown looked precious on the little child. Pretty enough to be in any fashion show or, God-forbid, one of those little kid modeling pageants. With such a beautiful face and soft, smooth skin, it was a shame that the child didn't embrace being a girl more wholly. Hopefully in time Samantha would realize all the benefits of being a girl held for her.

“See, you are such a pretty little girl, Samantha,” Tonya praised, hoping that the combative behavior was over for the morning.

“My name is Sam,” the child said, stomping her feet when she said the shortened name. “Not Samantha!”

Tonya took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Sam is a boys name,” she explained calmly, “but Samantha is a pretty name for a pretty girl like you.”

Samantha turned red and crossed her arms tightly about her chest. “My name is Sam, like Daddy's.”

This day was not starting well and if things weren't set right the misbehavior may last all day. But things also had to be handled delicately, or the day would be shot, there would be no dropping Samantha off to play and spend the night with Cynthia and no date with Brad afterward. “If you don't stop contradicting me, you're going to get a spanking. Do you want that?”

Samantha shook her head no vehemently and covered he nightgown clad behind with both hands.

“Then I suggest you start behaving young miss.”

Though Samantha didn't say a word, Tonya could see the wheels of the young mind turning and was wondering what the child was saying under her breath. It wasn't worth undressing, now was the time for damage control.

Tonya waited a few seconds, just to insure that the child kept her thoughts to herself. “That's better,” the mother praised. “Let's go get some breakfast in the tummy of yours and then we can get dressed and go by Cynthia for the day.”

Samantha pouted. “Do we have to?” she asked in a whine.

“Yes, we have to,” Tonya mimicked the child's whine. “You'll have so much fun with Cynthia and her mommy.”

“Can't we go by Timmy's house?” Samantha made sure she wasn't too contradicting.

“Why would you want to go by Timmy's house? He's just a yucky boy.” Tonya made a yucka face at the child that at least elicited a smile.

“Timmy just got a new remote control car and he got army men and guns and wrestling guys. Tonya just got dolls and baby stuff like me.”

Samantha's desire to play with typically boys' toys hadn't waned like the mother had hoped. That too was Sam's fault. Sam would never dream of bringing their child a doll or a baby carriage or jewelry or anything else feminine, but instead lavished the child with pretend firefighter gear and die-cast firetrucks.

“Or we can go to the park instead,” Samantha continued when her mother didn't reply. “I can play baseball or go on the monkey bars.”

Tonya smiled and shook her head no nonetheless. The idea that the child wanted to play baseball reminded her how much like Sam the child still was. Sam loved playing softball and Samantha would sometimes find some of the younger kids at the park playing with an oversized plastic bat and ball. Though the memory warmed her, she still thought it was best to steer the child away from such masculine pursuits. “You don't want to get so messy playing baseball,” she said as a way to dissuade the child, “but maybe another day we can go to the park. Today, however, is our day to go spend with Cynthia and her mom and you get to have a sleepover and everything.” She tried to said as upbeat and perky as possible.

“Okay,” Samantha replied, not matching her mother's enthusiasm.

“That's my girl,” Tonya praised. “Now lets get some breakfast, I can hear your tummy all the way up here.”

Samantha giggled. “No you can't,” she said joyously as she rolled out of bed and then ran past her mother.

Tonya walked behind the child in a leisurely fashion. Crisis diverted, she hoped as she heard the patter of little feat smack against the wood laminate floor. Theirs wasn't a big house, but it served their purpose. It was just a tiny two bedroom house with a living room, eat-in kitchen and a small office that afforded Tonya the ability to work at home and earn a little extra money to make ends meet. The large fenced in back yard was an extra bonus, because when Samantha had a little too much energy, she could be sent out back to play without having to worry about traffic or strangers.

Samantha crawled atop her chair in front of a Strawberry Shortcake place mat. When the child was younger, the place mat use to be that of a firefighter child squirting his hose at a house fire. That was one of the first things to go when Tonya put her plan into motion. It wasn't that the place mat was too masculine, but was such a reminder of Sam that she couldn't take looking at it without falling to pieces. It was as soon as that place mat was removed that Tonya decided on the gender change. It would be easier on everyone that way and “Fathers have sons, mothers had daughters,” became the mantra of the house. Though she knew the transition would be rough, she thought that after two years it would've at least been easier on Samantha than it had been.

Tonya sighed as she thought how rough things had been, but also had hope things would get better as her relationship with Brad grew. Though Brad knew about the gender issues in the house, would that keep him from making a long term commitment? Tonya thought as she pulled a pink and white bowl from the cupboard. Would he encourage masculine behavior from the child if he decided to be a more permanent part of their lives? That would be something to be discussed because Tonya was unsure if she was willing to have her child behave even less feminine than she already was.

“Just let things work out on their own,” Tonya said to herself in a whisper as the pulled out the child-sized pink and white spoon that matched the bowl. “Don't get so ahead of yourself.”

Tonya placed the bowl in front of the child, poured a bowl of Cheerios and added some milk. The child was often so wound up naturally that she didn't dare give Samantha any sugar laden cereal. Instead she cut up half a banana and added it atop the Cheerios and then poured some apple juice into a Strawberry Shortcake spill-proof cup.

Once the child was served, Tonya made herself her own bowl of cereal, making sure she used a measuring cup to not give herself more than one serving. With her growing more and more serious with Brad, she started worrying about her figure and though she wasn't at all overweight, she wanted to shed a few pounds in case a wedding dress was in her future.

Tonya looked over at her child. Everything was pink and white; the nightgown, the cereal bowl, the place mat, the spoon, the sippee cup. She took a bite of cereal as she watched Samantha do the same. Perhaps she was enforcing femininity too strongly, Tonya thought to herself as they both ate in silence. Maybe this was why Samantha was so resistant to embracing being a girl. Perhaps I am going a little overboard with things and should reel it in a little bit, the mother continued to muse. With all the changes in life, maybe I'm pushing too hard. The real question is, though, where does one draw a line?

Tonya had this conversation with herself often, but never did act upon it. This was now a house of girls and certain things were expected. “Mothers have daughters,” Tonya reminded herself as a way of staying the course and though things were difficult, they were better than at the beginning, where as a two year old, Samantha didn't at first take to the idea of the gender change at all and would cry and cry. At least that stage was over, Tonya said to herself as she reminisced.

Waiting for a four year old to finish eating seems to take slightly longer than an eternity. Each spoonful the child ate contained no more than two Cheerios and sometimes didn't contain but a few drops of milk. But Tonya practiced patience, outside of visiting Cynthia and her mom, nothing else was planned until that evening and that was something the mother was going to do without child in tow.

“Good girl,” Tonya praised as she put the child's bowl, cup and utensil inside her own bowl. Instead of cleaning the dishes right away as was the routine, she simply placed them in the dishwasher to be dealt with later. Though with just the two of them she rarely used the appliance, she knew enough to run it at least once a week.

Samantha hopped out of her booster on the chair and stood, waiting for instruction. Though it was common for her to simply run off back to her room or to the television, she knew that when her mother said they were going somewhere, that meant a change in routine.

“Let's go make ourselves pretty for our day with Cynthia and her mom,” Tonya said, trying to relay some enthusiasm.

Samantha made a sour face, being made pretty was not something she looked forward to. Normally she could get by with wearing a jumper and that was at least bearable. Being made pretty always meant wearing dress, which the child almost despised.

“Please,” Tonya pleaded. “For me.”

Samantha paused and looked like she was giving the option some serious thought, even though she really didn't have a say in the matter.“Okay, mommy,” she finally answered in compliance.

“Good girl,” Tonya again praised. “Go to your room and change your panties and then I'll come in and help you dress.”

Samantha ran towards her room to do as her mother said. For the longest time it was practice that the child would change her own undergarments. Tonya was very deliberate in that, she would never see the child naked, never have to be reminded of their differences in gender and in turn, the mother hoped, the child would never have the curiosity to see her mother naked in return. Tonya shuddered at the thought of what might happen if Samantha saw that their anatomy didn't quite match up, there would be hell to pay then.

Tonya didn't ruminate on the idea for long. The child did what she was told and in a short while called out that she was ready. The mother walked slowly to the room, just to make sure the child had a few extra seconds to ensure decency.

Tonya walked into the child's room. Samantha stood in front of the foot of her bed wearing a pair of plain white panties. Though there were plenty of prettier colors to choose from, and some with pretty flowers or hearts on them, the little child always opted for plain white when the option was available. Tonya never raised an objection though, it seemed to be a moot point anyway, after the child was clothed the panties weren't meant to be seen anyway.

The mother smiled at the child for a second and then went to the closet. Though there were fancy party dresses available, today was not a day for something so fancy. Instead, Tonya pulled out a plain white cotton sleeveless dress that had a purple sash around the waist. It was light and airy, perfect for a summer day. She turned around and showed it to her daughter.

Samantha was less than thrilled at the choice in outfit. “Do I have to?” the little girl whined.

“Yes you do,” Tonya stated simply.

Samantha pouted. “Oh, okay,” she said submissively to the pleasure of her mother.

Tonya instructed the child to raise her arms and then gingerly slid the dress into place. The one good thing about having a daughter was that dressing the child didn't take so long as it would take dressing a boy. There were less buttons and zippers, it seamed, and dressing took no longer than a few seconds on occasion.

Samantha took a step back away from her mother once the dress was properly in place. It was evident that she was uncomfortable in the garment, to her it felt as if she was hardly wearing anything at all. As her mother gave the cue, she did a slow twirl, feeling the skirt of the dress flair away from her thighs made her even more conscious of what she was wearing.

Tonya smiled at the child, seeing that the dress came down to the girl's knees and didn't reveal anything it wasn't suppose to as the skirt flared. Samantha was so beautiful that it was almost a shame she didn't fully embrace the joys of being a girl. “In time that will change,” Tonya mused to herself as she sat on the child's bed holding a brush.

Samantha didn't need to be instructed as to what to do next. She submissively sat on her mother's lap and had her hair brushed.

Tonya ran the brush through her daughter's long locks. It was amazing how much the child's hair had grown in two years. Just before Sam had died both her child and her spouse had matching crew-cuts, a look that Tonya never did appreciate. When the mother decided that it was in the best interest for the child to behave more femininely, she wondered if the hair would ever grow back; it was almost as stubborn as the child was. Now the hair was well past the child's shoulders and the options were endless to the styles available to them. But since today was a play day, Tonya simply brushed the hair back and put in a purple hairband to keep to strands out of Samantha's face.

“So pretty,” Tonya praised.

Samantha didn't appreciate the compliment.

Tonya matched the child's pout. “Well, you are. Now Mommy will go and hopefully make herself as beautiful as you. Now, don't get messy.”

Samantha nodded in agreement and stood on the floor as her mother got up and left the room.

Tonya walked to the master bedroom and closed the door firmly before her. She made sure to latch the door so the child wouldn't inadvertently walk in on her as she changed. For two years she had reinforced the idea that they were mother and daughter and to have Samantha walk in and see that what was between her legs didn't match what was between her mother's would be disastrous and probably cost thousands in counseling sessions when the child was older.

Feeling safe from the prying eyes of the child, Tonya disrobed and quickly got naked. She looked at herself in the mirror on top of the dresser, her long hair dangled down to her breast. She smirked at her reflection, “It'll be a while before Samantha has to worry about these,” she said as she cupped her b-cup sized breast.

Knowing the child wouldn't stay occupied and out of trouble for long, Tonya put on a pink cotton bra. Though she had a date with Brad later on, she didn't feel the need to go with something silky. If things progressed as far as Brad seeing her in her bra, she figured she wouldn't be in it for that much longer and knew a man wouldn't appreciate the garment, only what they were restraining.

Where Samantha chose the plainest of panties, Tonya opted for a pink thong that appropriately matched the bra. Even though her boyfriend might not appreciate it, it never hurt to coordinate. One day maybe the child would be interested in wearing such a thing, but as a four year old it would not be appropriate, no matter what the Baby-Gap was selling.

Tonya went to her closet and found a dress that matched that of her daughter's. Though they didn't dress alike that often, the mother couldn't resist. When Brad showed up to pick her up for her date, hopefully he would appreciate the pair. Eventually, however, Brad would have to be informed of the situation and about the gender differences, but their relationship didn't progress that far. She barely allowed Brad to first base, and though she hoped for more, she didn't think it prudent to let out all of the family's secrets.

Tonya slipped the cotton white dress over her and let it fall into place. It seemed she was much more comfortable with her femininity than her daughter, but she hoped time would change all that. Though she had a date that night, she decided to forgo putting on makeup at the moment. There would be plenty of time for that later and she didn't want to keep her daughter waiting. Who knew what trouble the child could get into if left alone too long.

It was time to get on with the morning, with the day, and with life, Tonya thought to herself as she grabbed her car keys and was ready to fetch her daughter.

“Just what do you think you're doing,” Tonya said as she entered the child's room.

Samantha was on the floor and playing with a toy firetruck that was one of her few mementos from when she had two parents. It always pained Tonya to see her child playing with this particular toy. First off, it brought back memories of Sam. The gift was the very first thing Sam bought their child once fire training was completed and was by far Samantha's most favorite toy. Secondly, it seemed that no matter how many feminine toys that Tonya bought for the child, Samantha always gravitated towards masculine toys. There were lengthy debates inside her own head if she should just beat the boy out of the child, but that seemed a bit drastic when Samantha was just doing what came naturally. The other option she had, and she employed a few times, was to simply hide the toy for a short while, hoping it would use the allure. Whenever Tonya did that, Samantha would simply grab a doll and pretend it was a car, complete with 'vroom-vroom' sound effects and all.

“Playing, mommy,” the child said innocently.

“Why don't you play with your dolls, or your toy stove, or your makeup?” Tonya asked desperately.

“Those are for girls,” Samantha said emphatically.

Tonya stomped her foot and furrowed her brow at the child. “How many times do I have to tell you that you are a girl?” She said, trying to control her frustration.

“I don't want to be a girl,” Samantha whined.

Tonya took a deep breath and calmed herself down. “You are what you are,” the parent said simply, with an air of compassion.

“Why?” Samantha continued to whine.

“Because I'm your mom and I said so,” Tonya stated strongly, hoping to put an end to a debate that had repeated itself far too often. “Now let's go over to Cynthia's.”

Though going by Cynthia's house to play the day away wasn't among the child's list of favorite things to do, Samantha didn't put up much of a fuss as was oft the case. The child had learned that there were some battles that couldn't be won and this was one of them. Samantha simply walked towards her mother and held onto Tonya's hand as they made there way to the family minivan.

The drive was amazingly quiet, Tonya thought as she glanced in the rear view mirror to check on her child. Sure enough, Samantha was pouting while sitting in the car seat. The question the mother had was if Samantha was pouting over being restrained or because the child would have to endure hours of playing with a girl.

The drive was really too short to dwell on such questions and Tonya wound up pulling into Amanda's driveway before anything was resolved inside her head. She could've driven around the entire globe and still wouldn't have any answers in making her child behave more like a girl. The mother was just hoping that in due time, the child would accept the role that life had given her and be happy with it. There was still a year left before Samantha had to begin school and the mother was holding onto hope that things would be resolved by then. Certainly there would be enough questions about the family and gender, Samantha bucking against behaving like a girl certainly wouldn't add to Tonya's argument that things were better as they were.

Tonya shook her head to escape her own thoughts and got out of the minivan. She smoothed her skirt and made her way around the other side to the sliding door of the van. Though newer vans had doors on both sides and would at times be easier, this vehicle was at least paid for and Sam's pension didn't allow room in the budget for a new car.

Samantha waited for her mother to unfasten her out of the restraint. The child gave a strained smile as she was lifted and set on the ground. Samantha was at least going to try to salvage this day in some way, even though she wished that there were some boys around to play cops and robbers or freeze tag with.

Tonya was pleased that the child was at least being compliant, but wished that there was more anticipation of being able to play with a friend all day and an upcoming sleepover. When Tonya was a child, a sleepover with her friend Amanda was always a cause for celebration, but this had the feeling like Samantha thought she was an inmate heading towards the electric chair.

“It won't be that bad if you just give being a girl a chance,” Tonya said to the child as they made their way up a flower lined path to the door. “You might even discover that you like doing girl things if you just give it a chance.”

Samantha made a sour face that she hoped her mother wouldn't see.

“Couldn't you at least try,” Tonya pleaded. “For me?”

Samantha looked up at her mother. “Okay, mommy,” she said quietly, as if it would be a chore done at great pains.

Tonya cracked a small smile as she reached the front door and rang the bell.

“Ding-dong,” the child said in a sing-song voice that mimicked the doorbell.

Amanda took hardly a few seconds to open the front door and greet her old friend and the child.

“Hello, stranger,” Tonya said as she hugged the woman in the blue dress with white polka-dots.

“And hello to you,” Amanda said as she returned the hug. “You are looking quite beautiful today, like usual.”

Tonya smiled all the more, she and her friend always enjoyed a love of fashion, ever since they were little. As preteens, they would spend hours going through fashion magazines, discussing what looks worked and what were absurd. “And so do you, I like what you did to your hair. Back to being a red-head I see.”

“Back, forward, these days I can barely remember what my natural color was.”

“I think we use to call the color poop-brown,” Tonya teased.

Amanda let out a giggle, remembering some old times. “And who is this little munchkin?” she said as she got down on one knee.

“It's me, Aunt Mandy. It's Sam,” the child responded shyly.

Tonya cleared her throat loudly.

“I mean Samantha,” the child quickly corrected herself.

Amanda played off as if the exchange between mother and child didn't even occur. “So it is,” she side in wide-eyed enthusiasm. “I almost didn't recognize you in such a pretty little dress.”

The child looked down and almost pouted, but knew not to show any displeasure even if she wished she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. “It matches mommy's,” she finally responded.

“That it does and you are both very beautiful girls. Why don't you run off and find Cynthia, she is in her room. You know the way.”

Tonya found the child's lack of enthusiasm unsettling as Samantha schlepped her way through the house.

Amanda rose back to a standing position. “Still the same battles,” she said sympathetically as she invited her friend into the house.

Tonya sighed. “Yep. Same battles.”

Amanda led the way to the kitchen where a tea kettle and two cups were already prepared. “Must be difficult on you both,” she said as she sat down.

Tonya followed her friend's suit. “I think more so on Samantha. Takes after Sam so much. Sometimes it's painful see. Sam was the epitome of a man's man, and Samantha was following suit, but what do I know about raising a boy?”

Amanda laughed. “We were both so girly-girl growing up, I guess it would've been better if one of use learned about baseball or getting dirty. I know I wouldn't know what to do if Cynthia was a boy.

“I still hope that if I reinforce femininity in Samantha now, it will make life easier when she's older. I would've thought it would be easier though, but she still has a bit too much Sam left inside her.”

Amanda placed her hand atop her friends porcelain like forearm. “It's still early, give it time.”

“I just wished we could bond like my mother and I did,” Tonya lamented. “But it's like Samantha is blaming me for Sam's death.”

“I'm sure that's not it.”

“That's what it feels like.”

“Sam decided to be a firefighter, there were risks with that. You both knew that going in. Samantha might just not understand everything right off the bat. Plus changing genders got to be hard on her, it did kind of happen over night.”

“I didn't feel I had a choice. Mothers have daughters, Fathers...”

“I know,” Amanda cut her friend off from repeating a mantra she had heard dozens of times. “I'm just trying to put things into Samantha's perspective. All at once, she loses her father and a kid that wore pants and played rough and tumble games her whole life was suddenly thrust into dresses and told to play with dolls; can't be easy on her.”

Tonya frowned as she poured some tea in her cup. “I know. But I still think it's for the best.”

Amanda followed her friends lead and poured her own cup of tea, added a spritz of lemon juice from a bottle. “Only time will tell.”

“It's just been so hard,” Tonya said and then took a sip of tea, allowing a tear to fall from her eye.

“I know,” Amanda attempted to comfort.

“At least you get bonding moments with your daughter. I can't even take Samantha into the tub with me and I've wanted to for so long. But if she saw what was between her legs and how it didn't match what was between mine; I couldn't begin to fathom how to explain that one.”

“There's always surgery,” Amanda tried to offer an option even if she knew it wasn't one that would likely be obtained.

Tonya tried to pull herself together. “I would have to take Samantha out of the country for that, and the cost, it's astronomical. Maybe when she is older we can think about surgery, but for the time being things are stuck the way they are.”

“It's just a few trade offs that's all. Besides, taking a bath with a toddler isn't all it's cracked up to be. Too much splashing and God-forbid if you want to soak, they see there skin begin to raisin up and they freak. Count your blessings.”

Tonya took a hard sniffle and smiled, Amanda had a way of making her feel better. “Anyway,” she said to change the subject. “I do thank you for watching her tonight, wish she was more into having a sleepover.”

“I'm sure she'll warm up to it. I rented Cars 2 for tonight, that'll keep them busy and I thought I would let them make there own little pizzas.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Tonya replied. “It'll be nice to go on a date where I don't have to be home by 9.”

“You might even get to stay the night at his place.” Amanda raised her eyebrows at her friend.

“Oh, stop.” Tonya could feel herself blushing.

“So which date is this,” Amanda pried.

“This'll be number 6,” Tonya said. “So odd to be back to dating. After I married Sam I thought that part of life was over.”

“Number 6, hmm, so I take it you already have kissed.”

“Twice, so far, but nothing further.”

“But you want it to go further,” Amanda continued.

“It's nice to be held by strong arms again, and Brad is a great guy.

“Does he know?”

“Does he know about Samantha, yes. Does he know about the gender thing? Not yet, but things are becoming serious and I suppose I should tell him before things go too far.”

“That might be a deal killer,” Amanda said and frowned.

“I know. But it's the way things are and I don't see them changing.”

“What if he wants to take the relationship further? What if he doesn't approve with how you're handling Samantha?”

Tonya sipped her tea and thought for a moment. “I suppose I could allow Samantha to indulge in her boyish behavior, if that is what Brad wants. But he'd better be real committed for that to happen. I mean, ring on the finger committed and I don't think we're at that point quite yet.”

“Just giving you something to think about.”

“I know,” Tonya said and then expertly changed the subject again.

The hours spent in the company of another adult refreshed Tonya and with the two children playing quietly by themselves she was almost relaxed. There was little fuss raised when she left Samantha with her little friend and made her way home to freshen up.

“Date number six,” Tonya said to herself as she sat in front of her vanity mirror. When she went over to her friend's house she didn't bother with makeup or the like, but for a date with Brad, she wasn't at the point where she could allow him to see her face naked.

She looked intently in the mirror and applied some mascara. It was something that she learned to do when she was seven when she and Amanda broke into her mother's stash of makeup. In a few strokes she was finished, her eyelashes now looked longer and fuller.

“I wish Samantha was more into makeup,” Tonya spoke out loud as she applied some lavender eye shadow. “We could have so much fun playing beauty queen.”

Tonya let out a wistful sigh. Things would be so much easier if her child was compliant.

“Now stop thinking about Samantha,” Tonya chastised herself. “Tonight is your night, you think about her enough as it is.”

With her mind firmly set on not focusing on the child, Tonya completed her makeup by adding some blush and lipstick.

It was seven PM and like he always was, Brad was right on time.

“Tonya,” the burly man with broad shoulders covered by a tight fitting t-shirt said enthusiastically as the door was opened up for him. “You look wonderful.”

Tonya smiled and blushed. She remembered hearing such compliments from Sam, but that was so long ago. Though she didn't want to keep picturing Sam whenever she heard someone say something kind, it was always an ongoing struggle. “Thank you, Brad. And you're looking handsome, like usual.”

Brad gave his date a winning smile, one that was well practiced but never failed to make a woman swoon. “I know how important it is for women to accessorize, can't have a knockout like you being seen with some smuck.”

Tonya gave a feminine giggle. “So what do you have planned for tonight?”

Brad looked past his date and into the house. “Is the little rug-rat around,” he asked.

“No, I dropped her off at a friend for the night,” Tonya admitted.

“No babysitter?”

“No babysitter.”

“No curfew?”

“No curfew.”

“I have you all to myself for a night?” Brad said hopefully.

“It seems that you do,” Tonya said with a smile that said she found the idea appealing.

“Then heck, who says we need to go anywhere?” Brad said with a hopeful look in his eye.

“You mean, as in, my place or yours.”

“I could mean that,” Brad said, hedging his bets. “When was the last time you were intimate with a man.”

“It's been longer than you can imagine,” Tonya replied, but was a bit reserved about the whole situation.

“I'm not saying we have to do anything, but we could see where things lead. Worst case scenario, we can just talk about things and get to know each other more intimately.”

Tonya could see that Brad was sincere about the relationship progressing, one way or another. “Maybe we should talk.”

That was invitation enough and Brad walked into the house. “Talking is good,” he said in a light manner, hoping that he showed himself to be a true gentleman and not some horny middle-aged man looking for a quick score.

Tonya led her date to the living room and sat on the couch.

Brad sat down directly beside her and wasted no time in putting his arm around her shoulder. “Comfy?” He said, though he wished he said something more manly.

“Very,” Tonya replied as she leaned back into Brad's shoulder.

“So we should talk,” Brad said. “I'm taking it that you don't want to discuss the weather, though it has been very nice out lately. Hasn't it?”

“It's been absolutely lovely,” Tonya said as she quickly debated with herself if she wanted to go through with a conversation that was eventually going to be had.

“So what's on your mind?”

“Samantha,” Tonya said silently.

Brad smiled as he rubbed Tonya's arm. “Ah, the princess. How is she doing?”

“Doing pretty good, I suppose. You know, considering.”

“Is she having a problem with you dating again,” Brad said as his hand left Tonya's arm and rested on her hip.

“Not really, which is a little surprising. But maybe she figures she can have a man in her life again.”

“I wouldn't mind that,” Brad said as his hand found it's way to Tonya's thigh and he found it encouraging that she didn't impede his progress.

“I didn't think you would. But there's something you need to know about Samantha, it's something important.”

Brad rubbed Tonya's thigh as he saddled up closer to her. “What about her? Does she have some sort of disease?”

“No,” Tonya let out a nervous giggle. “Nothing like that.”

“Then what?” Brad asked even though he seemed more occupied to what his hand was doing.

“Samantha and I aren't mother and daughter,” Tonya blurted out and figured there would be some more explaining to do.

“I already knew that,” Brad said.

Tonya whipped her head around and looked Brad directly in the eye. “You knew what?”

“This,” Brad said as he slid his hand under the skirt of Tonya's dress and gently cupped her penis.

Tonya's eyes grew wide, but in the course of two seconds her fear of being found out subsided. “It seems you don't mind,” she said with a faint smile.

“I find a mother's love attractive in a woman,” Brad said as he reached over and turned off the lamp.

Author's note: This is my second attempt at misdirection. My first attempt The Dress Punishment went over incredibly well, but this story actually predates that one in concept, just not in execution. This one was a little more involved and I had to be careful in not letting the surprise out too early. In my original posting, some had figured it out, but I think they were making guesses.