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Wednesday: 5’2”

I opened my eyes the next morning to see the sunlight filtering in through the blinds, casting the room in a gentle glow.  I had that pleasant feeling that I was at just the perfect temperature; half a degree warmer or colder wouldn’t feel quite as perfect.  I laid still in bed for the better part of a minute.  That was the high point of my day.  Then, as I shifted my weight, I felt a sharp pain in my rear and remembered the spanking from last night.  Everything came flooding back to me – my shrinking stature, my new position underneath Kyra, her horrible punishments.  It was impossible to argue that I was still head of the household.  I looked with trepidation on my next encounter with my daughter.  The one relief I had was that she was already off to school and I wouldn’t have to see her until this evening.   I weighed myself, with the faintest hope that I was still 122 lbs like yesterday.  Nope, I had shrunk to 111 lbs.  Just over half of my former weight.  No wonder Kyra was able to manhandle me so easily.  I remember hearing that she was around 150 lbs, although probably a good 5-10 lbs more than that considering how girls like to lie about their weight.  I would rapidly continue to be even more helpless against her with each passing day.

I went to the bathroom, rinsed my face, and shaved, although it seemed like I barely had to shave anything.  I thought this was odd but didn’t think much of it since I never kept a mustache or beard anyway.  As I took my shower, though, I noticed a surprising amount of hair was falling to the tub.  I rubbed my head and didn’t notice much difference, but I felt around the rest of my body and realized that my chest, normally rather hairy, was now markedly less so.  And even my pubic region was looking more sparse.  Hmm.  I’ll have to monitor this situation.

After the shower, I went to my desk and booted the computer.  I was eager to check my email to see if the test results were in at the doctor’s office.  I found no email from them, unfortunately, but I would still call once I got to work.  I checked my other messages, paid the electric bill, and checked my bank statement.  There were several fairly large charges recently that I didn’t recognize.  Clicking on them, I saw Dress Barn, JcPenney’s, and several other clothes stores.  Oh, these were from shopping Saturday.  Then I looked again at the amounts; they added up to around $450!  Just to be sure, I got out my receipt for the clothes I bought myself, and just as I remembered I had spent only $110.  That girl!  She had spent $340 when I expressly forbade her to spend more than $150!  Oh, she’s gonna get it, I thought.  Then I thought again, and to my dismay I realized I couldn’t just punish her like I used to.  I decided to still take matters into my own hands, though.  I would take most of the clothes with me to work, then return them during my lunch break.  Good plan, I thought.  This way I could take away some of the sexier clothes that she decided to buy.   If she got upset, I could hopefully avoid punishment by explaining to her that I was just returning some of the clothes to keep it under $150, without having to say that I also didn’t want her wearing some of them.  I knew how she disliked me telling her what to wear.

I ventured out into the hallway.  Just to be sure, I looked down the stairs but she was nowhere in sight.  Not surprising, since her bus would have arrived half an hour ago.  I opened her bedroom door and entered.  What a mess.  She obviously hadn’t cleaned it in some time.  Her bed was unmade, and strewn all about the floor were papers, books, CDs, dirty clothes, and even clean clothes for cryin’ out loud.  I didn’t worry about not moving things around since I didn’t think she would notice in this mess.  I looked around for the bags and finally found them in the corner.  Looking inside, I saw that most of it was still in there; she had only taken out what she had worn so far.  No wonder they cost $340, I thought; there were still several full outfits’ worth in there.  I pulled them out one by one to inspect them.  Somehow, I wasn’t surprised that all of them looked just as revealing as the ones she had worn already.  She had some nerve.  After looking at each article, I set it on the bed.  I picked up the Victoria’s Secret bag next.  I didn’t really need to see this, I thought.  Well, maybe on second thought, I should take a peek just to be sure …

I pulled out some fairly plain, standard panties and bras.  Well, standard except for the size, that is.  She’s lucky they even make bras big enough for her, I mused.  Well, big enough to hold her in front while still having a small enough band to fit her skinny frame.

Next, I reached in and pulled out some frilly, skimpy black lingerie.  Jesus, I told her not to get lingerie.  She had no reason to wear it, and it was inappropriate at her age.  These panties would hardly cover her ass, from the looks of them.  And the bra!  It was so sheer that it was practically see-through.  I tried to recall just how big her breasts were and I imagined how they would look encased in this bra.  They would probably barely cover her nipples, I reckoned.  My finger traced a small circle in the fabric where I imagined her nipple would rest.  My imagination was running wild, picturing how the bra would look on her.  As if possessed, my hand reached out and cupped the underside of the bra as I fantasized about how small my hand would look holding her breasts, and how soft yet firm and heavy they would feel…

I snapped out of it and put the bra down on the bed.  Jesus Christ, I had to get a hold of myself.  There were a few more panties and some socks, but that was it.  I was about to gather them up and put them back in the bags when I realized my conundrum: I didn’t have the receipts.  They wouldn’t let me return them without receipts, would they?  Maybe if the tags were still on they would, but I wasn’t sure and decided to look around for the receipts just to be safe.  As I was stepping around the obstacles on the floor, I saw that black dress again, laying on the ground.  It struck me how huge it looked.  Did she really fit into that?   I picked it up and held it out.  Good lord, it was enormous.  I couldn’t help but walk to the mirror next to her bed and size it up.  I held it against my torso to compare with my body.  Holding the straps up to my shoulders, I saw that it dropped down to my knees, whereas I remembered it had barely covered the very top of Kyra’s thighs.  I tried to gauge how loose it would fit me, holding it to my waist.  It looked like there would be plenty of room to spare.  I was about to put it down when I caught a whiff of something.  It was Kyra’s unmistakable scent.  Hardly realizing what I was doing, I pulled the dress into my face and inhaled deeply through my nose.  Powerful visions of being smothered by her bosom came back to me.  I drank it in for a couple more breaths, then lowered it from my face.  That’s when I noticed through the mirror something looming in the doorway.  Or someone.  Shrieking, I spun around to see—No!  It couldn’t be!  She was at school!

Kyra’s face was bright red with rage.  Her fists were clenched, and she was exhaling loudly.  Sheer terror took hold of me.  I panicked, dropping the dress and bolting for the– the—damn it, I had nowhere to go.  She was blocking the only exit.  Acting on pure adrenaline, I looked around wildly then dove into her closet.  I tried to back as far in as I could, pushing clothes out of the way.  Of course, it was no use as she yanked hard on my feet, pulling me straight back into the room.  She grabbed me by the front of my shirt and I tried to pry her hands away but I felt myself being lifted right off the ground, higher, higher, then I felt my back slammed into the wall.  I was staring straight ahead into her face and I realized she was holding me a foot off the ground.  She might not have been able to hold me up in midair for long, but by pinning me against the wall she had no trouble.

I was already shaking uncontrollably when she screamed right in my face, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM!!”

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.  “AND WHAT WERE YOU DOING WITH MY CLOTHES, YOU FUCKING PERVERT!?”  Oh God, I wondered how much she saw.  Surely at least me sniffing her dress, probably even me comparing sizes with it, and maybe feeling up her bra.  I couldn’t muster any words yet.  “Speak, now!” she barked.

I babbled on about how I had seen the credit card statement and was going to return some of her clothes to save money and was just putting them back in the bags.  She was pressing hard into my chest and I was starting to have difficulty breathing.  Kyra didn’t say a word, just glaring at me inches away.  She held me up for another minute, probably thinking of what she was going to do to me.  The tension was absolutely excruciating.  I started to break down under her unwavering stare, and began sobbing.  I tried to help my case by saying, “Kyra, honey, I’m so, so sorry.  Please, I’ll never do it again, I swear.”

“Shut up!” she snapped.  After another unending pause, I saw a glint in her eye.  She dropped me to the floor, causing me to topple to the ground.  “Go fetch that dress you love so much.”  As I started to stand, she commanded, “Crawl on all fours, you pig.”  I didn’t hesitate in the slightest.  Picking it up, she snapped her fingers and held her hand out.  I understood that she wanted me to bring it to her.  Oh no, was she going to wear it again?  It was definitely the sexiest of her dresses, and I just couldn’t help but gawk at her when she wore it.

I returned the dress to her as she snatched it from me.  “Stand.”  I stood.  “Clothes off.”  I hesitated, caught off guard.  She just glared down at me.  In her heels, which she was wearing yet again, she towered over me by 16 inches.  My eyes were level with the underside of her breasts (not that I dared look at them).  Not sure where this was going, but scared shitless, I quickly tore off my shirt and pants. 

“All of them,” she declared.  What!?  She wanted my boxers off, too?  I looked up pleadingly into her eyes.  Her stare was as determined as ever.  Reluctantly, I began slowly pulling them down.  “Hrrgh,” she gave an annoyed grunt.  She bent over and yanked my underwear down around my ankles.  I covered up my privates, hoping she didn’t have a chance to see.

“Raise your arms above your head,” she commanded.  I shook my head no, not wanting to remove my hands for anything.  Her eyes widened in fury.  “I’m going to count to three.  One, Two, --“  I darted my hands up in the air.  Before I realized what she was doing, she had raised her black dress up and slid it down onto my body.  No!  She couldn’t!  For the first time that morning, she smiled, but it was a vicious smile indeed.  She pushed me across the room in front of her mirror.  Looking into the mirror, I could see just how embarrassing I looked, a grown man wearing a dress that was many sizes too big, standing only as tall as my daughter’s chest behind me.  I started sobbing as she adjusted the straps to raise it as high as it would go.  Even still, the low cut just barely covered my nipples, and the bottom of the dress hung down to my knees.  It wasn’t quite as loose as I had expected, but probably only because Kyra had a much more slender physique than I did.  I guess I got the chance to find out how loose it was on me after all, I thought with dismay.

Done with her adjustments, she stated, “My shoes would never stay on your feet, so you’ll just have to walk around barefooted.”  Beats wearing women’s shoes, I figured.  Besides, I was just going to take this off once she left for school anyway.  But until then, dear God this was humiliating.

She grabbed my arm and looked at my watch.  “Great, Dad, just great.  You’ve already made me late for school.  Come on!” she yanked my arm and dragged me out the door and down the stairs.  Stumbling, I had difficulty keeping up with her long legs.  At the bottom, she said, “Where are the keys?”

“Oh, uh, in my pants.  They’re upstairs.”

“Agghh,” she grunted furiously.  “You had better run.”  She shoved me towards the stairs and I scampered up.  “Hurry the hell up, Dad!” she threatened.  The loose spaghetti straps kept wanting to fall off as I tried to hold them on.  I darted into her room, fished out the keys, and sprinted back, somewhat hindered by the straps.  Practically jumping down the stairs, I put the keys in her hands, put my hands on my knees to catch my breath, and said, “Have a good day at school, Kyra.”

I looked down and realized that leaning over like that had opened up a direct line of sight down to my junk.  I raised myself up sheepishly, but she made no indication of noticing.  Instead, she wagged her finger and told me, “Oohh, no, Daddy, you’ll say goodbye when we get to school.”

WHAT!?  No, she wouldn’t make me go out in public like this, would she?  I was going to protest vociferously, but before I got the chance she wrenched my hand along with her out the door.  She opened the passenger’s side door, which now seemed to be my door from here on out, and more or less threw me in.  Walking briskly around the car, she got in and peeled out of the driveway.  “You had better hope traffic’s not bad.”  Yeah, for two reasons, I reflected: so she would get there earlier, and also so I didn’t have to sit there in slow traffic where other drivers could notice my attire.

I buckled in as she drove like a banshee.  “Honey, please, you’ll get in an accident.”

“Shut up, Dad!  It’s your fault I’m late.”  For the first time, I noticed she had on another spicy little number, a frilly red blouse and a very revealing skort.  I was too terrified earlier to pay attention to what she was wearing.  But the terror and humiliation I was now subjected to quelled any stirrings of arousal I would have otherwise felt from looking at her.

We made it in record time, miraculously unscathed.  She pulled in front of the school and got out.  I was starting to climb across to the driver’s side, not wanting to leave the car.  Seeing this, she reached back in and took the keys out of the ignition.  “Ladies don’t climb over seats.  Walk around to me.”  Oh my God.  There was no way she would let me have the keys unless I got out.  Cautiously, I glanced around.  Fortunately, since school had already started, there were only a few people in sight, and none within throwing distance.  “Hurry up.”

I got out and sheepishly walked over to her.  I heard someone a ways off burst out laughing; I prayed that it wasn’t on account of me.  As she dropped the keys into my hand, she grabbed my watch again.  “9:19,” she stated.  School started at 9:00.  “Completely unacceptable.”  As she turned away, she looked over her shoulder and said, “I expect you to be wearing this when you pick me up today.  And that’s BEFORE 4:30 this time.”  She walked off briskly, her heels clacking, her ass bouncing side to side.  I stood watching for a few seconds, but then a cool draft reminded me of what I had on.  I quickly got in and pulled away.  I had to stop for a second to adjust the seat, which was way too far back for my short legs.  As I pulled onto the street, a woman at the corner looked my way.  Shit, hopefully the windows were tinted enough?

I headed for work, but halfway there I realized how stupid that was.  Wearing an oversized woman’s dress was not exactly proper workplace attire.  I changed my course, deciding to take as many back roads as possible on my way back home.  Already a half hour late, I reached down to my pocket to get my phone and tell work that I was running late.  My hand touched the thin silky material of the dress.  No pockets, and no phone.  I would have to wait until I got to the house. 

I rushed inside and yanked off that God-forsaken dress, throwing it on the ground.  Reconsidering, I picked it up and hung it over the chair.  I didn’t want to anger Kyra by getting it dirty or wrinkled.  I went into her room again to retrieve my clothes.  As I picked them up, I noticed that the clothes I had laid on the bed were still there.  I had better put them back where I found them.  I carefully laid them in the appropriate bags.  My hand lingered on the lacy black bra.  I noted that my hand was smaller than each cup, with room to spare.  I shuddered.  Remembering what happened last time I fooled around in her room, I snapped out of it, put the remaining clothes in the bags, and set them down in the closet.  Pausing, I remembered my goal to return those clothes to the mall.  I wavered for a minute, but then decided that Kyra would not be pleased that I took her clothes away without her permission.  I decided it was safer to wait until I could ask her tonight.  I absolutely did not want to upset my daughter.  Looking one more time to make sure everything was where it should be, I turned out her light and shut the door behind me on my way downstairs.

Since I would be an hour late anyway, I just decided I would call in sick.  My boss wasn’t pleased, particularly about me waiting an hour to call, but I put on my best sick man act and convinced her that I had passed out after throwing up and just now woke up again.  Next I called the doctor’s office.  Surprise, surprise, the results wouldn’t be in until tomorrow, they said.  I chewed the receptionist out, upset at the doctor’s office and with how my morning had gone.  She snapped that there was nothing she could do about it and hung up on me.  ‘Grrrhh.’  I punched the wall, not making a dent but making me hold my knuckles in pain.  Everything was going wrong for me today.  Damn you, Murphy, and damn your law!

I decided I just wanted to get out of the house.  Whereas once it was a pleasant place where I could put up my feet after a long day, gradually I started to associate it with dark times and evil doings.  Since I finally had some free time, I wanted to put all this out of my mind as much as possible.

I drove around the countryside on the outskirts of town, with the windows down and the radio blaring.  I lost track of time and, for the first time in days, didn’t have a worry in the world.  Eventually, I headed back, happening to pass by the mall.  I remembered that my clothes had gotten extremely baggy again, me being 8 inches shorter than when I had bought them.  I pulled into the parking lot and went inside.  I went to the food court and had a nice, leisurely meal.  Then I went to JcPenney’s.

The same attendant who measured me last time was there again.  “Hey there, cutie.  Say, you look kinda familiar.  Have I seen you before?” she asked.  It was unnerving having to look up at her now, as I distinctly remember myself looking down at her last time.  I didn’t want to say I was here this weekend, in the off chance that she would remember a taller me and start asking questions.  “Um, I don’t think so.  Can you measure me, please?” I asked politely.

“Sure thing, sweetie.”  This time she lifted my arms up herself and went about her work, keeping up the banter.  I would say she was flirting with me, but I had been flirted with plenty over the years, and this felt somehow … different.  I couldn’t put a finger on it, but I wasn’t quite used to the way she was treating me.  “There you go!  Here are your measurements,” she said, handing me a piece of paper.  “I bet it won’t be long until you’ll need to come back and get re-measured,” she winked at me.  Did she know I was shrinking?  No, why would she believe that?  I realized she must have thought I was young and still growing, since I wouldn’t need all my measurements again if I was fully grown.  Whew, that was a close one.  But wait … could I really pass for a teenager?  Seriously?  That sobered me up.

I had some difficulty finding clothes small enough for me in the men’s section.  My waist was only 29 now, which was in the S to XS size range, and few of the pants were short enough.  Eventually, I picked some clothes out that I didn’t particularly like, but again I wasn’t picky when it comes to clothes shopping.  They did fit pretty well, at least for now that is.  I got about two or three outfits and headed out.

Back home, I went upstairs and put one of my new outfits on.  That felt much better.  As I walked down the hall, though, I found myself pausing by Kyra’s door.  What was I doing?  I wanted to go on, but my feet didn’t budge.  I stood facing her closed door for quite some time, knowing I couldn’t go in there but at the same time unable to pull myself away.

Eventually, I told myself, ‘Well, I should probably double-check that I left everything in the right place earlier.’  Against all reason, I convinced myself to enter her room.  As I was passing through the door, my eyes anxiously darted downstairs, as if to make sure there was still no one there.  I tiptoed quietly into my daughter’s room, careful to avoid brushing anything with my feet, careful not to leave the slightest sign of my presence.  My heart started beating faster.  I slowly looked around the room again, paying more attention this time to everything that was lying around.  My eyes occasionally flicked back to the door behind me.  I crept forward to the bed to make sure I hadn’t left any of my things lying around.  I didn’t see any.

But a navy blue bra on the floor caught my eye.  A very big navy blue bra.  Maybe I should put this in the hamper for her.  I reached down and picked it up gently, almost with reverence.  My eyes began to dart back to the doorway more frequently now, as for some reason I was feeling paranoid.  Calm down, she’s still at school, I told myself.  Looking down at the treasure in my hands, I saw the tag sticking out.  I pulled it closer to read the size: 34DD, the same as I remembered hearing on Saturday.  It smelled like Kyra.  My hands began to tremble.  I glanced back at the doorway.  My God, the cups were big.  I found that I wanted to get a better reference for their size.  I looked in the mirror and a thought occurred to me.

Should I really do this?  I was both frightened and exhilarated.  I glanced back to the door, then to the wall where she held me off the ground this morning.  But I shook it off and told myself again that there was no way she would walk in now.  I pulled off my shirt and put my arms through the bra straps.  Pulling the tabs behind my back, I tried to fasten the clasps.  It was difficult with my shaking hands, but they eventually latched together and I looked up at my reflection in the mirror.

It fit me very loosely.  But it was enough to give me a good sense of the size of her jugs.  The cups were almost comically large on my small body.  If a girl my size had tits like these, she’d have back problems for life.  I looked down in awe at all the empty space inside the cups and my mind pictured Kyra’s chest jutting out from her dresses.  As I continued to examine her oversized bra on my body, I found my hand slowly reach down, unzip my pants, and start to fondle myself.  Oh God, I was so aroused.  I brought my other hand up to her cup and closed my eyes, imagining feeling the weight of her bosom in my hand.  They were so soft, yet so firm …

I was completely lost in ecstasy, not realizing that I was now masturbating with full speed ahead.  I continued to get closer, and closer, and … SHIT!  I returned to my senses just as I was starting to come.  I immediately threw both hands down on my member, trying to contain as much of my man-juice as possible as I erupted violently.  When the dust finally settled, I found myself with sticky hands and sticky pants, with much of the front of my pants covered in wet spots.  Whew, that could have been worse, I reflected.  I carefully made my way to my bathroom to clean myself and my clothes up as much as possible.  I ended up having to change underwear and pants, throwing the brand-new but already-stained clothes in the hamper.

Then I went back to Kyra’s room to check that there weren’t any stains anywhere.  I was immensely relieved that I didn’t find any.  I realized that I still had her bra on, so I undid the clasps and slid it off.  As I was holding it to go put it back, however, I felt a large wet spot on the underside of one of the cups. 

My heart pounded in my rib cage.  No, no, no, no!  This wasn’t happening!  I turned it over and saw a visible stain at least an inch across.  Oh God!  There was no way in hell I could play this one down if she saw it.    What would Kyra do to me if she found out?  I didn’t want to think about it as I rushed out of her room.  OK, it’ll be fine, don’t panic, James, don’t panic.  I’ll just throw it in the wash and it’ll be done by the time I have to leave.  I looked at my watch.  4:14.  Holy shit!  How did it get so late?  I realized I never really paid attention to the time all day, and what with the driving around, eating, shopping, and, well, uh, my activities in Kyra’s room, the time had flown by much faster than I had thought.  Damn it, I had to leave NOW if I wanted to be on time to pick Kyra up.  And boy, did I want to be on time.  Should I run the washer now and hope I can get it out while she’s not looking?  Or should I wait, risking that the stain will set in?  I had to choose now.  I decided that it would take too long to get the washer started, so I flung her bra in my hamper, shoving it under my stained pants and making sure it was out of sight, then I hastily put my shirt back on.

Running downstairs, I saw the black dress hanging over the chair.  Oh, hell, I had completely forgotten about that.  Thank God, at least, that I saw it before leaving.  The last thing I wanted was to anger Kyra any more after this morning.  Well, then how could I have been so stupid in her room just now?  I had no good explanation for that.  Quickly, I threw off my pants and shirt, keeping my boxers on, then pulled the dress over my head, glad for once that the dress was loose enough to slip on easily.  I got the keys and ran out the door.

I drove possibly even more recklessly than Kyra had this morning.  I guess I felt like I had more to lose than she had.  I prayed that she wouldn’t notice my tardiness as I pulled up to the gym at 4:32.  Fortunately, she was not out from practice yet.  Remembering what I was wearing, I decided to pull around to the fat end of the parking lot and wait.  I went to a spot a good distance from the other cars in the lot so I would have a lower chance of being seen, and watched the gym doors like a hawk.

5 minutes later, Kyra emerged in her basketball clothes.  I was about to drive up but I saw she was chatting with a teammate.  Oh no.  I saw her looking around the lot as she listened to her friend.  Then she spotted me.  She continued to talk to her friend as she put her right hand on her hip and started tapping her foot impatiently, all the while staring straight at me.  She was clearly indicating to me that she didn’t like to be kept waiting.

Jesus, what should I do?  I couldn’t bear the shame of stepping out of the car in front of anyone, Kyra’s friend especially, dressed like this.  I waited it out for a minute or two.  I saw Kyra take her cell phone out of her purse and look at the time.  She put it back, looked back at me, and cocked her head as if to say, “You’re going to get it, mister.”  I was really starting to worry.  Soon my fear of Kyra overcame my fear of being seen, and I was started to put the car in gear.

But just then a van pulled up in front of the two girls.  I saw the other girl get in and Kyra give a wave.  Whew, disaster averted.  Well, actually, maybe that was premature.  I drove up apprehensively.  She walked around and opened my door.  I looked around to confirm that no one else was around and stood under her.  I handed her the keys and started walking to the other side.

She grabbed my arm.  “What time is it?”

“4:41,” I said reluctantly, looking at my watch.

“What time did I tell you to pick me up?”

“4:30,” I said quickly, wanting to get back inside ASAP.

She watched me squirm under her grasp.  I believe she was drawing this out just to savor my predicament.  “Did you see me standing at the curb?” she asked deliberately.

“Yes, dear.”

“What time did I come out?”

“4:37, I think.”

“So you saw me yet made me wait 4 minutes until you came by?”

“Y- Yes.”

“Why did you disobey me?”

“B-Because I didn’t want to interrupt you talking with your friend.”  I was pleased with my quick thinking.

“Are you lying to me, Daddy?”

Oh God, I just wanted to get moving.  “Um … Yes, dear.  The, uh, real reason was I didn’t want anyone to see me dressed like this.”

“Do not lie to me again, understand?”  I nodded vigorously.  She finally released my arm, which now hurt from her grip.  I quickly went around to the other side and tried the door, but I hadn’t unlocked it.

“Kyra, honey,” I said anxiously.  I saw someone approaching from down the sidewalk.  She pretended not to hear me as she slowly opened her door and got in.  Instead of unlocking the door, she adjusted her seat back and fiddled with the rear view mirrors as the person on the sidewalk kept coming closer and closer.

I frantically knocked on the glass.  “Oh, sorry Dad, I forgot to let you in.”  She mercifully unlocked the door and I yanked it open, darting inside.  She smiled broadly as we pulled away from the school.

Back home, I begged, “Can I please take this off, honey?”

Looking me over again, she replied, “Daddy, you look so adorable though, wearing my big girl clothes on your tiny little body.”  My eyes pleaded with hers.  “Well, I suppose you’ve learned your lesson.  But I won’t be so lenient next time.”

“Thank you, Kyra.”  I picked up my clothes that I had left in my haste to pick Kyra up, ran up the stairs two at a time, and went to my room to change.  I heard her following behind me, going to her own room.

As I was putting my pants back on, I heard her call, “Daddy, come here please.”  Uh oh, what was this about?  I thought of my little accident this afternoon and hoped I had gotten rid of all the evidence.  I threw my shirt on and came over.  She stood inside her room with her hands on her hips.  “You came into my room again.  You had better have a good explanation for this.”

I almost panicked.  But I saw that she was standing next to her closet, where I had put the bags back this afternoon.  Whew, that seemed to be all she found.  “I had left my clothes in here when you, uh, made me change this morning, so I came back in to retrieve them.”

“And …?” she said, nodding towards the bags in her closet.

“… And I realized that I hadn’t put your clothes back where they belonged, so I did.”

She walked closer.  “Daddy, is that all you did in my room?”

“Yes! … I mean, yes dear, of course,” I said eagerly -- hopefully not too eagerly.

She looked down at me, gauging my reaction.  Convinced, she said, “OK.  You were just doing what you thought best; you didn’t know any better.  But,” she laid one hand on my shoulder, wagged her finger at me, and lectured, “from now on, you are not to enter my room for any reason.  Do you understand, Daddy?  Not for ANY reason whatsoever, unless I specifically ask you to.”

Even if my clothes were still in there?  I thought that was a bit extreme.  But I didn’t argue.  “Yes, Kyra, I’m sorry.  I won’t enter your room again.”  She gave a satisfied smile.  “Oh,” I added, remembering what I had wanted to ask her earlier, “can we talk about maybe returning some of your clothes?”

Her face turned sour.  “You’re not still hung up on me dressing too sexy, are you Dad?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“No!  No, of course not, not at all dear.  You can dress as … as … well, you can dress however you want, honey,” I blabbered on, trying to avoid angering her at all costs.  “It’s just that, I saw the credit card bill, and, well, I’m sure that it was just a mistake,” I laughed nervously, “but it turns out you had spent $340 instead of the $150 that I had asked.  I mean, it’s not a big deal or anything, but the thing is, I … uh … can’t really afford to spend that much on clothes for you, especially since I have to buy myself new clothes every few days on top of that.  So I thought I might take a few of them back tonight, if that’s OK with you?”  Seeing her cold stare, I quickly added, “Or tomorrow if you’d rather.”

She frowned.  “Daddy, you know how important a girl’s appearance is.  And you know how good my new clothes look on me.”  I gulped.  I did have to admit, she had damned good taste when it came to clothes.

“Well, OK dear, I guess you can keep these.  But, if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind not buying new clothes for a while?  And maybe could you pay me back the $340?”

She gave a wry smile.  “We’ll see,” she said dismissively.  Then she squinted down at my well-fitted clothes and said, “Wait a second.  Did you get yourself new clothes today?”

“Yes, Kyra, I took the day off from work and went shopping.  My old clothes were much too big on me.”

Kyra put her hands on her hips and glared at me in indignation.  “Daaaddyyyy, after that whole long rant about me buying too many clothes, you go and skip work and buy even more clothes for yourself?  How is that fair?”

“But Kyra, you’re not the one who’s been shrin-“

She snapped her finger to cut me off.  “To your room, mister.”  She turned me and pushed me towards the door.  Entering my room, she said, “Now, where are they?”  I walked over and handed her the JcPenney’s bag.  She peered inside and took out the receipt.  “$117.  Unbelievable.  Just fucking unbelievable.”

“But Kyra, honey, I really needed them.  Please, can I keep them?  I promise I won’t buy any more until you say so.”  I was learning that the only way to get my way around here was to ask my daughter really, really nicely.  And even then, it often didn’t work.

She eyed the outfit I had on.  “Turn around,” she said as she inspected my clothes on me.  “Hmm.  I don’t particularly like these.  But … since you won’t be using these long I’ll allow you to keep them.”

“Thank you!” I said, pleasantly surprised.

“Now, let’s take a look at your other outfit,” she said, seeing that my receipt listed two pairs of pants.

“It’s in the –“ I choked, looking at the hamper.  Jesus Christ monkey balls.  I remembered that my other new pants were in the hamper, and boy I did not want her to see them.

She followed my gaze, walked over, and lifted them up.  There it was, a huge cum stain all over the front of my pants, held up in plain sight.  “What did you spill, Daddy?  You need to be more careful wearing brand new clothes.”  Ah, the innocence of a child; hopefully she wouldn’t put 2 and 2 together.

“I … uh … it’s nothing, dear,” I mumbled, looking down.

She thought my reaction was peculiar, and took a closer look at the pants.  Suddenly, she shrieked, “Ewww!  Oh my God, Daddy, did you cum on your pants?”  I turned beet red and couldn’t bear to look up at her.  I nodded my head in shame.

“That’s so gross!  Is that what you were doing at home today, when you should have been at work?”  As she turned to put them back in the hamper, she scolded, “And besides: what the hell Dad, you’re 41!  Don’t you know better by now than to get it all over your pants?”

As she reached down to drop them in, she froze.  Her hands dropped to her sides, my pants falling to the floor.  Slowly, she reached down and pulled a black object out.  It was Kyra’s bra.

I gasped loudly.  I had totally forgotten that I had put it there.  I hardly had time to grasp the severity of my situation when her right hand grabbed my throat and choke slammed me to the bed.  Before I knew what had happened, she sat down on top of me, pinning me down along the entire length of my body.  She tightened her grip on my throat, shoving her bra in my face.  “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!  WHAT IS MY BRA DOING IN YOUR ROOM, COVERED IN YOUR CUM!!!”

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