The Things We Do for Our Daughters

Being a single father was never easy, but Mark had always done his best for his daughter, Emily. So when she came home from school one afternoon, practically bouncing with excitement, he already had a feeling she was about to ask for something big.

"Dad, I need a favor!" she said, her eyes wide with hopeful anticipation.

"Okay… what kind of favor?" Mark asked warily.

"My school is having a mother-daughter event, and I really want to go," she said sweetly, then paused before adding, "And I really want you to come… as my mom!"

Mark blinked. "Emily, I’m not your mother."

She immediately pouted. "But all my friends will have theirs! I’ll be the only one there alone!" she whined, sticking out her lower lip in a way that he knew was completely calculated. "Please, Daddy?"

He sighed, already feeling his resolve slipping. It wasn’t like he could just let her feel left out. "...Fine," he muttered.

Emily squealed in delight and hugged him tight. "Yay! We’re gonna have so much fun!"

That "fun" started bright and early the next morning. Emily wasted no time getting to work, starting by making him shave. Mark groaned but obeyed, and once she was satisfied, she pulled him over to sit in front of her makeup kit.

She started with foundation, blending it in smooth, then dabbed concealer under his eyes to brighten his face. A bit of powder set everything in place, and soon she was reaching for the eyeliner. With a careful hand, she traced a soft, feminine shape around his eyes, then added a few coats of mascara to darken and lift his lashes. A dusting of blush brought some warmth to his cheeks, and finally, she applied a glossy pink lipstick.

She stepped back, admiring her work. "Almost perfect," she said, picking up the wig. It was long, silky, and platinum blonde, cascading past his shoulders. She adjusted it on his head, brushing it out until it framed his face just right.

Now, the fun part. She handed him the outfit—a white lace crop top and a denim miniskirt, just like hers. Mark hesitated, but one look at her expectant face had him sighing and pulling it on. The skirt was way too short, and the top clung in all the wrong ways, but Emily wasn't finished yet.

She handed him a matching blue purse and then slid a pair of heeled mules in front of him. "Put them on," she instructed.

Mark groaned but obeyed, slipping his feet into the shoes. The added height made him wobble slightly, and Emily giggled.

Now, he was perfect.

The drive to school was long, and Mark tried to remind himself that this was all for his daughter. But the moment they walked in, he knew something was wrong.

Parents were everywhere—mothers, fathers, even grandparents. It was not just for mothers.

Mark leaned down, voice low. "Emily… what is going on?"

She put a finger to her lips, tilting her head innocently. Then, with exaggerated surprise, she gasped. "Oops! I must have been confused! Oh well, too late now!" Before he could respond, she eagerly looped her arm through his, practically dragging him forward. "Come on, I have to introduce my mom to everyone!"

Mark barely had time to process before he was surrounded by a group of giggling girls.

"Wow, Emily, your mom is so pretty!" one of them gushed.

"You’re so lucky!" another added. "My mom would never wear something this cute!"

Mark forced a smile, nodding stiffly as they showered him with compliments. But while the girls admired his outfit and hair, his attention was drawn to something far worse—the growing number of fathers in the room clearly checking him out. Their eyes lingered a little too long, their smirks far too suggestive.

Mark exhaled sharply. The things he did for his daughter…