Maria and Guadalupe Stay Virgins Chapter 4 Final
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Cruelty free porn video
Cruelty
A Short Story
By Maryanne
Diary Entry 1
I cannot talk to anybody about these feelings that I have. I know that
they are wrong. Not wrong for others perhaps, but just wrong for me.
How can I tell people about things that I don't understand myself?
I never thought of myself as gay. I had relationships with women. I had
sex with women and I enjoyed it. I never looked at men with any lustful
thoughts. But that all changed when I fell in love with a man. How can
that be?
But, after all, who understands love? Not even science can explain
attraction like this. All that I knew is that I have to be with Scott,
and I need to make him love me back.
I must have always been gay. I know that now. It must have been deep
inside me - repressed - just waiting for a trigger to open it up. He was
that trigger.
But he is not gay. He can never love me the way that I need to be loved
by him. He wants to please me. I am not just his boss. He wants
something of all the skills that I have. The truth is that he will never
be a great chef, but he could be a very good one. But I cannot tell him
that. I just cannot afford to lose him. I can never blurt out the way I
feel. He would leave in terror.
Until he came into my kitchen my life was so normal, but now it is in
pieces. There is that sense of joy that love can bring, but how can you
be happy when you face the impossible?
Diary Entry 4
It is done, and I am still alive - but only just.
I had the opportunity to talk to him about the feelings that I had for
him. We went to my herb garden together this morning.
Of course, he has not so foolish that he cannot see how I look at him.
That is why he started our private chat by confirming that he was not
gay. It was a friendly way of saying that he wanted to keep his job and
stay on as an under-study provided that I understood that he was not
interested in men.
I told him that I had no experience of homosexual activity at all, and
that I would not wish him to engage in any such thing. I just wanted to
know what he found attractive in a woman.
It really did not cross my mind that I was suggesting that I could become
some kind of sissy, but I did not want him to change. I wanted him to
stay the man I desired. That would mean that I would need to change. I
told him that I was ready to do that.
I could see that he was in a state. It was not that he needed the job -
he wanted the job. He wanted to work with me. He did not want to walk
away because his boss had suddenly discovered that he was perverted.
I told him that I would never use my position as his employer and his
mentor to take advantage of him. I said that my ambition was to win his
favor. That is the word I used, but what I really wanted was his love.
But how could I say that?
Diary Entry 8
I had to tell him that his work was not up to standard. He could see
that I did not want to. But as I said to him, my standards must be high.
Otherwise I would not be the chef everyone expected me to be, including
him.
The worst thing is that I could see that he knew that he was only keeping
his job because of my feeling about him. I could see him thinking about
what he could do if he thought that I could not bring myself to dismiss
him. The fact is that I would have dismissed him. Not that he is a bad
cook, he just not the standard that I require.
I have to tell myself that he can get better. So, I told him that this
was what I wanted. I wanted him that I wanted him to be closer to me,
but that he could not expect me to compromise on my expectations in the
kitchen. If he was serious about being a top quality chef he needed to
respect my expertise, and learn.
He agreed to respect me for my skills, but he told me that if there was
to be a relationship, he would be the man, so I would need to be the
woman. So, I needed to become more feminine.
So, what would that involve? He had some ideas. No hair cut for a
start. Maybe some color in it. Some more flamboyant clothes outside the
kitchen, and hormones.
Now as a chef, I can put long hair in a net and wear any clothes I like,
provided that I dress as a chef in the kitchen - and that is the same
outfit for both men and women. But hormones?
God know where he got them from, but he presented them to me. Daily
tablets and patches to go under my arm and be replaced weekly.
Diary Entry 14
Two weeks ago I went to the beauty shop and paid for the treatment he
wanted for me. Some golden color for my hair, complete removal of my
beard and plucking my eyebrows.
Already the hair has grown so that the dark roots are visible. I put
that down to the hormones. I swear that those drugs make my hair grow
faster.
Still he says that I am too manly and unattractive to Scott. I am
trying. I have practiced looks in the mirror. Little upward glances
across the kitchen with a little smile, as if to say: "Hi there, I'm a
silly little girl just like the kind you might fall in love with".
Sometimes I think that I am getting somewhere, and then he puts me down.
Then I think that he must hate me. He seems to enjoy making me cry. I
never used to cry, when I was a man. Now I just blubber like a baby
whenever he is nasty to me.
I just accept it. I hope and pray that tomorrow will be better - that
tomorrow he will appreciate all that I have done, all that I have given
away, to be his.
Diary Entry 20
He barely notices me, but other people do. I used to see my staff in the
kitchen talking about me and maybe giggling, as if saying: "There is the
chef who is trying to be a woman". Now I don't see it that much. People
I don't know have started calling me "Miss", or "Ma'am" or "Lady". It is
hard to get used to, but I like it because it seems all that I am doing
must be working.
I could see my shape change regardless. There is no mistaking what is
growing on my chest. Little tits. I can see them. Others can too. Why
can't Scott see them? Why can't he say something about them? I am doing
this for him.
I was invited to join a tasting table at my restaurant this week. I took
off my whites and I wore a white dress with a cowl neck. White because I
still wanted to identify myself as a cook amongst those critics who seem
poorly qualified to judge our work. The cowl neck to show off what was
growing, assisting by some soft inserts and a bra designed to push a
little flesh into the illusion of a good bosom. I wore earrings too -
not just studs. My hair has grown a bit and I thought that I looked
good.
Everybody at the table was very nice. They talked about me making good
progress with my transition, and "finally achieving my dreams". They
have no idea what I am going through - the pain of being invisible to the
man I love.
Then, just when I was giving up hope, Scott came out to present some food
and he whispered in my ear: "You look fat". It was a lie and it was
offensive and hurtful, but all I could think was: "He saw me. He is
looking at me. He cares about how I look. I am getting there".
Diary Entry 28
I just try to keep working. I am good at my job and everybody knows it.
I guess I have come to grips with being a woman chef, or more correctly a
transwoman chef. I have learned how to smile again.
I was worried about my hair and my breasts getting in the way. I have
learned how to tie up my hair in a practical top knot that I think looks
quite nice. I have a new tunic which has made room for my expanding
chest, and I have discovered the advantage of having a fitted bra with
room for expansion into the cups. I have spoken with my doctor about
what size I might grow to be, and with the senior lady at the department
store about how to fill the cups until they are filled. I am quite
looking forward to not having to stuff my bra, even though I have come to
realize just how clumsy a large pair of breasts can be.
I would never put up with them if I did not think that Scott did not
notice them, but now I know that he does. I like to jiggle them when he
is around. Just like at the end of service I might take my hair down and
shake it free right in front of him, while jiggling my tits at the same
time. What man cannot be affected? Instead he just seems to notice a
pimple or a whisker, an put on a face to show his disgust.
Diary Entry 30
Why world has changed. I have been a fool. Silvio the wine merchant
called me yesterday and told me that he had arranged a picnic. I didn't
know that it was just him and me.
"No cooking," he said. "Wine, salami, cheese and cherries, with freshly
baked bread. Wear something nice.
I have never felt more like a woman. His kisses sent me straight to the
moon.
What did I ever see in Scott. He might even be interested in me now, but
I am not interested in him. I might lead him on a little, before I tell
him where to go. I think that I am entitled to be a little cruel?
The End
© Maryanne Peters 2019
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