It was dad’s ‘rebirthday’, marking 7 years since he first came out to the world as trans and began his journey of self-discovery, and a month since the surgeons had put the final cherry on that particular cake. The rebirthday was to mark and celebrate the start of dad’s new life. Friends and family were all there, as well as Doctor Rupert Bains, proudly declaring himself dad’s ‘father’.

“After all, it was I who brought you into the world,” he joked, admiring his creation. Dad looked incredible - his curvaceous body squeezed into a black cocktail dress intentionally chosen to show off the incredible work done. Mom, infinitely supportive as ever, humbly received compliments for a husband who now more resembled her daughter.

“You made me the woman I am today,” dad laughed back at his surgeon.

Like any other birthday, it was a party atmosphere. Drinks flowed freely. Perhaps too freely. A DJ had been hired and the dance floor soon began to fill with inebriated uncles and their wives. I sat at the edge, minding my own business, until a slender hand took mine and pulled me towards the dance floor.

I’d like to say I didn’t recognise who I was dancing with, or that I was blind drunk, but the truth was I didn’t care. All that mattered was the heat of her body as I slipped my hands around her ass and pulled her close. Deep down I knew that she was a 50 year old man and my father, but it was deep enough to bury with a beer or two. She let her hair down, enjoying herself like the young woman she appeared to be, grinding her tight body against mine in time with the music. Towards the end of the night, as the music turned slow and intimate, only we remained on the dancefloor, as she whispered in my ear a slurred invitation. She wanted me to be the man who broke in her new womanhood.

I vaguely recall catching a blur of mom’s face in open-mouthed shock out of the back window of the taxi, as we headed for the closest motel. We fell into bed together, fucking through the early morning hours. She was tighter than any woman I’d ever known. We went slow, filling her with lube to ease her into it as her virginal holes were stretched to fit me perfectly, picking up the pace as she grew comfortable in her new role. Her high cries of pleasure sang like music in my ears.

"Nobody has touched me in so long. I just need-aaah, just need one m-mooore..."

She was voracious, like an animal. Even as I lay back, exhausted, she mounted herself atop me, riding me even as I slipped into a satisfied sleep, until at long last she acheived the satisfaction mom had been unable to provide for so long, fucking herself to sleep nestled against my chest.

It was the afternoon before we woke, tangled in the sticky sheets and each others arms, burdened with realisation and regret. I made coffee to ease the hangover and get my head together. Mine and dad’s phones, discarded on the floor along with our clothes, took turns vibrating.

She emerged, clutching the dress to her bosom, pushing back her tousled hair. With a look of a condemned man approaching the gallows, she picked up her phone.

“Has your mother been texting you too?” she asked quietly.

“Uh huh…”

Dad closed her eyes and groaned, no longer in pleasure, in horror. “... we are so fucked.”